Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave - Stephanie Barron [45]
I may, I think, declare myself to be no fool. I have looked at my face and figure in the glass these six-and—no—seven-and-twenty years; and neither is of a nature to drive a young man wild. Either Tom Hearst is quite bored with life at Scargrave, and finds in me some amusement; or he hopes to turn my head with flattery for a purpose I have not yet divined.
At his next observation, I felt all the force of my latter conjecture.
“Have you known Sir William Reynolds long?” the Lieutenant enquired, as though to turn the conversation.
I hesitated before replying, wondering what possible interest he could have in the good Justice.
“Since before memory serves,” I replied, picking my way through the snow. I had discarded my pattens in order to ride, and my boots should assuredly be ruined. “Sir William has always been a fond intimate of my father's house. To me, he is as much like an uncle as a friend.”
“He avails himself of your presence to visit Scargrave with greater frequency than in the past.”
“It cannot be surprising,” I said, studying his face. Did Tom Hearst desire to learn of some other reason for the magistrate's attention? “And in winter, one discovers the closeness of one's friends. A call upon an acquaintance may prove more attractive in the tedium of the season, when simpler pursuits are denied us by weather.”
“Certainly Sir William finds it so,” the Lieutenant commented, “though any man might find attraction enough in your presence, summer or winter.”
I could not suppress a smile at his relentless gallantry, and thought it best to seek refuge in a different subject.
“An officer such as yourself must be wedded to his horse,” I said. “Have you been a rider since infancy, Lieutenant?”
“I have,” he replied, reaching up to stroke his hunter's nose. “My father placed me astride at the tender age of two, thereby predestining his second son for the cavalry. It was perhaps his last fatherly act before departing for the Continent, his mistress, and his death.”
“You are very much attached to your profession?”
“I would sooner be an officer in the Blues,”4 he avowed cheerfully, “than a duke. There is all the style of a position at Court, and the elegance of such a set, aligned with the freedom and adventure of military service; the command of men, and the camaraderie of one's fellows—all things which I find delightful. I owe much to my uncle's goodness, Miss Austen, for it was he who purchased my commission.”
“Did he?” I enquired, though it was no more than I had suspected. “Then he served you better than your brother, Lieutenant. Had the Earl treated you both in a similar fashion, he should have made you a clerk, to be shut up indoors in every season—your inclination being so clearly in the opposite direction.”
“And so George has availed himself of your kindness, and poured out his grievances,” the Lieutenant observed, amused. “He is never done lamenting his thwarted hopes, though he knows my uncle thought better of his choice, and has left him a living. It seems to me that George suffers vastly in parting with regret—though he but exchanges it for his heart's desire. Perhaps he has grown fond of the attitudes of blighted youth.”
“Mr. Hearst is to receive a living under the Earl's will?” I exclaimed, in some surprise.
“So I believe, though I have not seen the document,” the Lieutenant replied, “my cousin Fitzroy and his solicitors being too bound up in affairs of the estate to give us all a proper reading. But my uncle informed my brother of the fact, upon his return from his wedding trip; marital bliss had made the Earl even more generous. In amending the will's terms to provide for the Countess, my uncle attended to George's affairs as well. If there is cause for any rejoicing in the melancholy event of the Earl's demise, my brother may justly claim it.”
“Indeed,” I said distractedly, my thoughts in some confusion. Had Mr. Hearst