Part 6 (1/2)

One moment she found herself favouring William, the next Lionel, and she knew that because they were both on their best behaviour, because they were wooing her, and because she was seeing them always to their advantage, it was very difficult to asp them accurately.

Now as she walked in the shadow of the trees she asked herself frankly whether she really wished to spend the rest of her life with either of them.

What did they have in common with her?

She found that for instance neither of them was particularly interested in books.

This was something that she told herself she had no right to expect; for Sir Roderick was not a great reader except where the Financial columns of the newspapers were concerned.

He could also become immersed in doc.u.ments which arrived daily from his office in London and which she told herself were as difficult to understand as a foreign language for a person who was not knowledgeable in monetary matters.

But because she loved books, because they meant so much in her life, she wondered if she would find conversation entirely on day to day subjects, which of course would include the local gossip, somewhat restricting.

She realised that William moved in far more important and naturally more scandal-loving society than did Lionel.

The latter was deeply connected with the affairs of his Regiment, and Astara found it interesting to talk to him about Regimental life and the soldiers he commanded.

She was quite certain that if he remained as he obviously wished to do in the Life Guards he would eventually end up as a General, and she questioned whether from her own point of view that was what she would enjoy.

One thing puzzled her and that was why Vulcan Worfield had not replied to his uncle's letter.

She had the feeling that because he had ignored it Sir Roderick had completely dismissed him from his mind and no longer considered him to be an applicant for the 'Golden Apple”Has there been no message from your third nephew?” she had asked Sir Roderick last night before dinner when she was alone with him.

Sir Roderick shook his head.

”I imagine he has gone abroad again, or else he is just not interested in seeing me,” he replied.

She heard the sharpness in his voice.

”Perhaps he did not receive the letter.”

”I questioned the groom who took it,” Sir Roderick retorted. ”He told me he put it through the door and there was therefore no possibility of it being lost in the post, or mislaid in any way.”

He looked at Astara and added : ”I think we can write Vulcan off as a non-starter.” Astara however was looking up at the picture she so admired.

”There were three G.o.ddesses,” she said. ”Hera, Athene and Aphrodite. It does not seem fair somehow that we should forget Vulcan.”

”He obviously wishes to be forgotten, ” Sir Roderick replied.

There was no mistaking now from the tone of his voice that he was annoyed.

Astara was not able to reply as at that moment William and Lionel had come into the Salon.

She found the meals they had together were very amusing.

Each young man vied with the other to be charming and witty and she had always enjoyed Sir Roderick's dry humour.

She knew he was watching her, wondering all the time which she favoured, and there was no doubt if the choice were his who would be the winner.

The weather was warm for April, and walking through the wood Astara slipped off the light shawl she had worn over her gown.

She had deliberately put on a very simple one that she had bought in Italy.

It was deceptively simple because it had been in fact exceedingly expensive and so had the chip-straw bonnet ornamented only with a wreath of wild flowers.

'The path twisted and turned through the trees and after a while Astara found her shawl heavy on her arm.

After a moment's thought she laid it down among the celandines that were in bloom beneath the trees and thought that no-one would notice it if they were pa.s.sing casually by.

Then as she walked back to the path she took off her bonnet and carried it by its ribbons.

Now she could feel what breeze there was on her hair and the warmth of the sun as it percolated through the boughs above her.

There was the scent of spring in the air and she wanted to stop and pick some of the yellow primroses that grew in profusion in clumps beneath the trees, vying in colour with the wild daffodils.

Then she told herself she had no time and a few minutes later she had her first sight of the thatched roofs of the cottages of Little Milden.

At the edge of the wood she stopped and saw in the distance the square grey tower of a Church.

She had expected also to see a Mill towering above the other roofs, but there was none in sight and she wondered as she came from the wood whether she should turn right or left.

Outside the first cottage she came to was a woman tending to a small bby who had fallen down and grazed his knee. Astara stopped at the gate.

”Excuse me,” she said. ”Can you tell me the way to the old Mill?”

The woman glanced _ up at the sound of her voice and saw that she was bare-headed. She obviously did not think she was Quality and therefore not ent.i.tled to a curtsey.

”Ye takes th' left fork where th' road turns,” she answered with her soft Hertfords.h.i.+re accent. ”Be ye a-goin' to Mister Worfield ?”

”Yes, that is right, ” Astara answered.

”Then ye tell 'im our Moll'11 not be a-comin' to him no more,” the woman said.

She spoke sharply. Then as Astara did not reply, she added: ”Ye can tell 'im, if he be interested, that our Moll's took off with a traveller, an' very upset Farmer Jarvis be about it.”

”Why should he be that:” Astara asked interestedly.

She was wondering how Moll, whoever she might be, concerned Vulcan Worfield.

”What wi' th' lambing an' th' calving, they be busy up at th' farm at this time o ' th' year, ” the woman 'explained. -”An' Farmer Jarvis thinks it be too bad o' our Moll t go off wi'out a word. But there, that s girls for ye!”

”Is Moll your daughter?” Astara enquired.

”Aye, me first, an' pretty enough, Oi grant ye that, but wi' never a thought for no-one but 'erself.

What Oi says is that Mister Vulcan just panders to 'er conceit. Ever so proud, 'er be if 'e wants 'er up at th' Mill. But that don't help Farmer Jarvis, as Oi tells 'en ”

Astara was slightly bewildered, but she thought it would seem inquisitive to ask too many questions.