The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [312]
Certainly, she thought, as the vicar’s carriage slowly climbed the slope of Godshill that led up to the manor of Hale, the place had the most charming views over the Avon valley. As they came up the long drive to the house, she could see that its handsome Georgian façade showed signs of neglect; but as soon as they reached the entrance it was clear from the two smart footmen who issued from the door that Mr West intended to maintain himself in style. And the appearance of the gentleman himself made everything clearer still.
Mr Arthur West was a fair-haired, rather stocky, thirty-five-year-old gentleman whose brisk, masculine manner told you at once that if anyone had an estate that lacked a master, he was equipped by birth and in every way to satisfy the attendant obligations. His inheritance, if it would not quite allow him to set himself up as a landowner on the scale he desired, was enough for him to look any heiress in the eye. No one would think him an adventurer. He deserved the heiress of a fine estate and he meant to have one; and this very self-assurance made him attractive to many women of that sort. At least, such a woman would know, if Arthur West fixed his blue eyes upon her, he knew what he wanted. And that, as every woman sooner or later discovers, is something to be grateful for.
Towards Aunt Adelaide he was solicitous and gallant, which was very pleasing to her. As for Fanny, he immediately made himself agreeable in a quiet and practised way so that she felt both that they had an understanding and that, if she wished it, he would pursue her. Not having encountered such treatment from men before, she was a little cautious, but as his behaviour was, at the same time, impeccable, she could explore the situation safely and found it not unpleasant.
‘My uncle has told me many tales of your father and his travels, Miss Albion,’ he said with a quiet smile. ‘He sounds a most adventurous man.’
‘Not nowadays, I’m afraid, Mr West.’
‘Well.’ He looked at her in a companionable way. ‘Each age has its season. It is probably our turn to be adventurous now.’
‘I’m not very adventurous, perhaps, living down here.’
‘I don’t believe it, Miss Albion.’ He gave her an almost boyish grin. ‘There are always enough adventures in the countryside to satisfy good people like us, don’t you think?’
‘I love the Forest,’ she replied simply.
‘And I quite agree with you,’ he answered.
He entertained them all very pleasantly in the big salon. While he was talking briefly to the vicar, Aunt Adelaide found the occasion to tap Fanny lightly on the arm and whisper audibly that she found their host a very proper man – by which Fanny understood very well that she meant that, having no estate of his own to distract him, Mr West might do very well for Albion House. She was spared the embarrassment of having to reply to this, however, since dinner was then announced and Mr West came to escort the old lady, upon his arm, into the dining room.
The dinner was excellent. Mr West made delightful conversation. He told amusing stories about London, asked, and was kind enough to seem very interested in, the views of both Aunt Adelaide and Fanny upon the great events of the day, was fascinated to learn about the French garrison in Lymington and glad to hear anything they cared to tell him about life in the Forest.
He was also engagingly frank. For when Fanny remarked that their lives were really very quiet, his blue eyes flashed with genial amusement and he replied: ‘Of course they are, Miss Albion. But I assure you I think none the worse of the countryside for that. Our armies fight and our ships patrol the seas precisely to safeguard such quietness.’
It also turned out that Mr West liked to race horses,