Page 31 of To Catch a Husband
‘“Worse” is behaving like a fool. Miss Lound, may we completely forget yesterday?’
‘Yes. I think we ought, though it might be advantageous if you just remembered the bit about moving the wrist.’ She looked at him a little shyly.
‘I shall endeavour to do so.’ He smiled.
Sir Rowland felt his day had suddenly become joyous. She had forgiven him, would, although no day was set, be alone by the lake again with him, and today she would ride with him and show him the estate.
They found Silas tightening the girths on the old cob, which would be his own mount, and with Mary’s hack ready and waiting. He would have thrown her up into the saddle, except that Sir Rowland cupped his172own hands and did it instead. The trio trotted out of the little courtyard, and Sir Rowland relaxed, posing questions that would lead Miss Lound to inform him not only about the estate and its tenants, but also a little about her. There was nothing of the false siren about her today, only the open, straightforward young woman who had taken him about Tapley End, and it restored his faith in her and in his own assessment of her.
Mary was perfectly at ease. The day was fine, it was nice to ride with a companion with whom she could converse, and in a peculiar way it felt better ‘handing over’ the tenants to Sir Rowland than having them dragged from her and thrown at the feet of Lord Cradley. She had no doubt that the new landlord would be fair and considerate, and whether she had the running of the estate or not, these would always be ‘her’ people.
Sir Rowland listened, laughingly said that he ought to have brought pencil and notebook, and watched as the woman who could be rather stiff in a drawing room chatted with tenant farmers about yields of grain and the state of the markets for young stock, and was treated not as some interfering grand lady on a horse, but part of the land as much as every farmer and his wife. He might be the new landlord, but he too saw that these people and acres truly belonged to her. She told him about the woods and the coppicing, who took what and how many generations that family or this had farmed the same fields. She complimented the chubbiness of babes173in arms, commiserated over the loss of an aged parent, accepted a jar of preserve from a girl who had just made her first jam on her own and had the little burn mark from boiling sugar on her hand as proof of her industry. Mary thought she was doing nothing; he saw just how much she did. She was, he felt, an admirable woman. He liked her, her looks, her outlook, and his admiration for her was growing upon every encounter. It was not more than that, but it held the chance that it might become more. For the first time in his life, Rowland Kempsey looked at a woman with the kernel of a question within him, a question which wondered what life might be like as a married man. He was not, he told himself, the sort who succumbed to a pretty face. What he thought he sought was … what Miss Mary Lound seemed to possess. Yet he was not sure, and what he wanted was time to watch, to listen, to explore her character. It was not perfect, as she herself had admitted. She was not patient, other than in fishing; she was frank to the point of being insulting; she lacked the ‘social graces’ that many regarded as the marks of a demure young lady. Life with such a woman would see sparks fly, at least from her, but that, he felt, was part of her vibrancy, which made a pretty face beautiful.
They had toured all the southern part of the estate and were walking, on loose reins, along a lane with Miss Lound telling him about how profitable the land had been in the time of her ancestors, who owned acres up onto the wolds above the scarp when wool was the wearable gold of the shire that had brought prosperity,174and how down below the scarp there was good grazing for the local cattle, which she described in detail.
‘They were common until the cattle plague in my grandfather’s youth, but sadly much reduced in numbers now. But one of the bulls that survived was a Tapley End bull and he sired many of the calves whose descendants you see about you on the estate, both pure bred and crossed with longhorns. The purebreds give milk most suited to our local cheese. Have you tried it?’
‘I have, ma’am. Mrs Peplow was keen that I do so soon after my arrival. A very pleasing taste.’
‘I am glad you—’ Mary stopped mid-sentence, and Sir Rowland thought he heard a very soft groan come from her. Trotting towards them were three horses, one ridden by a stony-faced groom, the others by Miss Madeleine Banham and Lord Cradley. If Mary Lound groaned, Sir Rowland took a deep and audible breath. Cradley was smiling, in as much as his mouth had lengthened and his teeth just showed, but his eyes glittered. He might well smile, for he was next to a girl who possessed the sort of beauty that made her shine like a star in the firmament.
Mary cast Sir Rowland a swift sideways glance and saw the look of ‘shock’ upon his face. Yes, that was the reaction of men to first seeing Madeleine Banham, she was sure. Miss Banham raised a gloved hand and waved, rather childishly.
‘Mar—Miss Lound, good morning. Are we not both fortunate to have escorts to accompany us on our175rides today?’ She made it sound as if they rode every morning without fail. ‘Lord Cradley has been so kind as to offer to ride with me, but you know he is a town gentleman for sure, for he has already pointed out to me an “eagle” that was a buzzard, and a “kestrel” that was a skylark!’ Her eyes danced, and she gave Lord Cradley a look that Sir Rowland instantly recognised as the distant relative of the one Miss Lound had tried on him by the lake. The youthful beauty did not, however, look like a third-rate opera dancer trying to tout for business among the riotous gentlemen in the pit. She looked vivacious, charming, and so innocent he even wondered if she knew what she was doing. ‘You have met Lord Cradley, yes? But do introduce me to your companion, dear Miss Lound.’ Madeleine was not sure that calling her ‘Mary’ in front of these gentlemen was correct, but softened the formality.
‘Good morning, Lord Cradley.’ Mary managed to convey in the first two words that her morning was infinitely the worse for encountering him. Her tone was clipped, and she was as tense as a rod of steel. She nodded, but only very slightly, and in return he touched his hat with his whip and performed not so much a nod as an equestrian bow, very exaggerated and clearly mocking. Mary ignored him. ‘Miss Banham, may I present Sir Rowland Kempsey … of Tapley End. Sir Rowland, may I present Miss Banham.’
‘Your servant, Miss Banham. It is indeed a fine day to be out riding.’176
‘Especially when one has charming company,’ drawled Lord Cradley, looking not at Miss Banham, but straight at Sir Rowland. There was something in his voice that suggested he was the one with the charming company, whilst Sir Rowland was far less fortunate. Madeleine Banham heard only the compliment to herself and blushed prettily, but Mary knew just what his lordship implied, and her eyes flashed. She was not a woman who concealed her emotions. It made Lord Cradley’s eyes glitter the more.
‘Indeed, Cradley, we are undoubtedly both very fortunate. Miss Banham can correct your faulty ornithology and Miss Lound has been educating me upon the estate and its occupants.’ Sir Rowland sounded unaware of the implication, but he had noted it.
‘I can see Miss Lound would make an excellent teacher. Perhaps you will be set an examination afterwards, Kempsey, to test your attentiveness.’ Lord Cradley’s barb was far sharper than he had imagined. After all the problems that her ‘governess-like’ manner had caused, this struck deep.
‘Should she do so, I would strive to attain good marks, Cradley, for her praise would be worth having.’
There was just the veriest hint of an edge now in Sir Rowland’s voice, but Mary was still reeling at being likened to a governess again, for however much it was said to hurt, it had sprung so swiftly to Lord Cradley’s lips that it must have been reactive rather than planned. Her day lost the pleasure as if the sun had been hidden177behind a large, dark cloud. Here was the reptilian Lord Cradley mocking her, already cozening the inexperienced Madeleine Banham, and worst of all, Sir Rowland had encountered her and been as stunned as every other gentleman. He had gasped, he had stared, yes, stared for several seconds at that beautiful face, and there was a tension between the two gentlemen which clearly indicated a rivalry. Lord Cradley was crowing that he was the one with the good fortune to be out riding with the glorious Miss Banham, whilst Sir Rowland had only ‘a governess’. She was disappointed, angry, and felt suddenly as if she was an irrelevance.
‘If we are to complete your rounds of the estate, Sir Rowland, we ought not to linger.’ What did it matter if she sounded dictatorial now?
‘Indeed, ma’am, I think that very true.’ Sir Rowland looked at Miss Banham. ‘I believe you were out visiting a friend when I called, Miss Banham. Do please convey my compliments to Lady Roxton.’
‘I will, Sir Rowland, and it has been very nice to meet you too. I was so wondering what you would be like,’ remarked Miss Banham, naïvely, which made Sir Rowland smile.
The two trios parted, and Madeleine Banham’s gurgle of laughter at some sally by Lord Cradley did not please either Sir Rowland or Miss Lound. There was silence between them for a minute or so, then Sir Rowland spoke.
‘You really do not like Cradley, do you, Miss Lound?’
‘No more do you, Sir Rowland.’178
‘No, I do not. His behaviour is not that of a gentleman. It is most unfortunate that an inexperienced young lady such as Miss Banham should be exposed to a man of his cut when she has no more idea how to go on than a kitten.’
‘Whereas I, “the old tabby” can well take care of myself?’ There was bitterness in Miss Lound’s voice.
‘I neither implied nor thought that,’ he replied instantly, looking at her. She had withdrawn into herself, and he felt it would be unlikely that she would emerge again upon their circuit of the farms and smallholdings. He wanted the Miss Lound that had set out with him, not this one. He consulted his pocket watch. ‘It lacks but ten minutes to noon, Miss Lound. Did you breakfast this morning?’
‘I … no, I did not, sir.’ She had been so caught up in formulating her letter, and then he had arrived and there had been neither time nor thought for food.
