Part 3 (1/2)
”Unwanted visitors,” he said firmly as he removed the road dust from his person at the basin on the marble washstand. ”A young woman, to be precise-or possibly three young women.”
”Indeed, my lord.” Gossett's voice expressed nothing but mild interest as he handed his master the towel.
”Yes, indeed. When-if-they arrive, they are to be received with the utmost discretion and directed to the vicarage....”
”To the vicarage, my lord?” The butler's eyebrows rose a good eighth of an inch.
”To the vicarage. Before her ladys.h.i.+p sees them. They are to be treated with respect, mind.”
”Very good, my lord. Your s.h.i.+rt, my lord.”
As Adam donned s.h.i.+rt, buckskins and a glossy pair of top boots, he realised that he must warn the Meades. However, his cheres amies were unlikely to arrive on his heels. He would wait until tomorrow, to give Sarah's dudgeon time to fade. Though she had in the end agreed to help him, he was aware she was hurt and angry. The knowledge that never again would he have her unqualified admiration disturbed him more than he was ready to admit.
As he tied his cravat, he made a deliberate effort to change his train of thought.
”I shall spend the afternoon in the estate office,” he said. ”Send a message to Mr. Brill to say that I should like to see him if he is not otherwise engaged. I am not to be disturbed by anyone else. Unless Miss Meade should call.”
”Very good, my lord.” Gossett sounded blander than ever.
Adam shot him a suspicious look and quickly added, ”Or Mr. Meade. Or Lord Bradfield, I suppose.”
”Very good, my lord,” the butler repeated, and helped him into his coat.
CHAPTER FIVE.
”Here's the post, miss.” Nellie skipped into the vicarage dining room, laid several letters on the breakfast table at Sarah's elbow, and beamed at her mistress.
”You are in good spirits this morning, Nell.”
”Peter's axed me to walk out wi' him come Sunday, miss. Mrs. Hicks says as I can go if 'tis all right wi'
the reverend.”
Jonathan raised his head from his book.
”Peter?” he asked.
”The groom from Cheve House who fetches the post from Amesbury,” Sarah told him. ”I believe he is a
respectable young man.”
”Oh yes, sir, and ever so handsome.”
Brother and sister exchanged smiles. ”Yes, you may go,” said Jonathan, ”but do not wander beyond the
village street.” ”I bain't no Nan Wootton,” said the maid indignantly. ”You won't see my ap.r.o.n to my chin afore I've aring on me finger.” ”Handsome is as handsome does,” warned Sarah. She picked up the letters. ”Thank you, Nellie. Ask Mrs. Hicks to heat the soup now, if you please. I shall leave in a quarter of an hour. Jonathan, here is a letter from the Bishop, so do not return to your book.”
”A letter! This is more like a volume!” The vicar weighed the package in his hand before opening it.
”Yes, it is fortunate that Lady Cheverell has Peter pay the postage as well as fetch the mail from the
receiving office, or your Bishop would bankrupt us.” ”He is a trifle verbose,” her brother conceded. There was silence but for the rustle of paper as he perused the four sheets while Sarah read a short missive from a relative. ”What it boils down to,” he said at last, ”is that he wants to see me in Salisbury tomorrow.” Sarah set aside her letter. ”You shall tell me about it later. I must be off, for I told Arthur to have Dapple ready at nine and Goody Newman's soup will grow cold.” She kissed the top of his head in pa.s.sing and went to put on her bonnet.
The little pony was waiting between the gig's shafts when she stepped out of the front door. Mrs. Hicks carefully set the earthenware jar of soup on the floor, well wrapped in straw to keep it hot, and a basket of victuals beside it. Sarah took the reins from Arthur, stepped up into the light carriage, and was soon tooling down the village street, waving to her brother's paris.h.i.+oners.
Goody Newman lived in an isolated cottage a mile or so outside Little Fittleton. The widow of a shepherd, she had been an aged crone as long as Sarah could remember. The village children thought her a witch, and lovelorn youths went to her for potions to charm their sweethearts. She was a bad-tempered old woman, and visiting her was one of Sarah's least enjoyed parish duties.
She was just turning off the road to Cheve House onto a gra.s.sy track when Adam hailed her. Glad of company, she was more cordial than she might otherwise have been.
”Good morning,” she responded as he rode up beside the gig. ”You are out and about early for a town buck.”
”I was coming to see you. Don't tell me you are off to call on the wicked witch?”
”You must not call her that, Adam. You are not a child any longer. Do you remember how frightened of her we used to be?”
”Yes. Jonathan dared me to knock on her door and run away, and I would not do it.”
”It must have been the only dare you did not accept. I am a brave woman now and am taking her some soup. Will you come with me?”
”Do I hear a plea in your voice? I think you are as bold as a dunghill c.o.c.k.”
”All crow and no fight? Gammon. She is harmless despite her sharp tongue. However, you could charm a crow from the tree, so if you set your mind to it, you will have her eating from the palm of your hand.”
”A revolting mixed metaphor, and I do not take it kindly that you think my charm is to be turned on and off at will. Stop a moment while I hitch Caesar on behind. I shall sit with you so that you need not crane your neck.”
She reined in Dapple. ”Mind you do not put your foot in the soup,” she advised as he jumped up beside her. ”It would ruin the polish of your boot.”
”I am willing to risk that dreadful fate for the opportunity of being driven in this das.h.i.+ng vehicle by so notable a whip.”
Dapple trotted on while Caesar, with his longer stride, walked behind, snorting in disgust.
”Now you are trying to charm the c.o.c.k from the dunghill, are you?” Sarah asked, smiling. She was still put out with him but he was irresistible in this teasing humour.
”I should not dare.” They rounded a bend and the widow's cottage stood before them. He frowned at the sight. ”It needs rethatching. I shall send some men over with barley-straw as soon as the harvest is over.”
”The roof does look ragged. I had not noticed.” If she could not remain aloof from his teasing, his consideration for a useless old woman was still more difficult to ignore. ”Here, you take the basket, for you are certain to spill the soup.”
”Do you think me so clumsy?” His tone was light, but she heard a double meaning in his words and avoided his eye.