Chapter 3
Despite Jane and I laughing about it, I still felt the sting of Mr Fitzroy’s insult and couldn’t help but feel offended. I wasn’t vain like some women, far from it. But for some reason, him not thinking I was attractive irked me severely. Who did he think he was? I longed to make him eat his words and thoroughly choke on them.
Leaving Jane to converse with Harriet, I went in search of Samuel and eventually found him leaning against the wall in the supper room, consuming a plate of ham.
‘Miss Blackburn.’ He started to bow, but I cut him off.
‘Forget that. I want you to dance with me,’ I said impatiently.
Confusion crossed his face. ‘But I thought we weren’t going to—’
‘Do you want to dance with me or not? If not, I’ll find Mr Hayes and flutter my eyelashes. I’m sure he will be glad to dance another ...’
Samuel quickly deposited the remainder of his plate of ham on a nearby chair. ‘No need for that,’ he said, proffering his arm. ‘If you require a dance partner, I’m happy to assist.’
Relief flooded through me. Why I was so desperate for Samuel to dance with me, I hardly knew. But I supposed it was something to do with not wanting to be a wallflower after Mr Stonyface’s insult; it would be like he was right. I needed him to see that I was desirable and desired no less by the handsomest man there (excluding himself). As Samuel and I walked into the main room, I couldn’t resist a surreptitious glance around but did not see Mr Fitzroy. Maybe he’d left, having found the occasion too beneath his contempt to bear any longer.
Harriet and Jane were looking on from the sidelines with undisguised curiosity as Samuel and I lined up. But then something extraordinary happened—Mr Pringle swooped in and asked Harriet to dance again. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I saw Aunt notice it too and nudge Papa. Mr Pringle asking Harriet to dance once was polite, but twice, and of his own accord, meant that he was obviously taken with her.
Harriet moved into place beside me, and as the dance began, the look of pleasure on her face as she was twirled by Mr Pringle signified she was immensely flattered at being singled out by him. Even better was the look of displeasure I caught on Mr Fitzroy’s face as he appeared in my line of sight. Hah, he had not left after all !
At first, I thought his glower was because Mr Pringle had partnered Harriet. But after several turns, I realised his unwavering disdainful stare was firmly centred on me . It was petty, but I felt a small thrill and was sure to make the most of Samuel’s attention by gazing at him adoringly and acting like I was truly enamoured. It was extremely satisfying.
***
Yet as much as I despised him, try as I might, I could not get those penetrating blue eyes of Mr Fitzroy’s out of my head for several days afterwards. They appeared without warning, such as when I was idly brushing my hair at the dressing table or looking out the window. They even appeared once when I was stirring my cup of tea. I had to blink twice at the sudden image of unyielding eyes staring back at me in the swirling brown liquid. It was most disconcerting. What could it mean? I had no interest in forming a connection with the man. After what he’d said at the dance, I could hardly bear to be in the same room with him. Indeed, being within five steps of him made my skin prickle.
Harriet had no such issues with his likeable friend. It was all “Mr Pringle this” and “Mr Pringle that” for days afterwards. To be fair, Mr Pringle was far superior to Mr Stonyface, and he’d asked her to dance twice. So I didn’t begrudge her speaking of him so emphatically. It was nice to see her happy. However, as a week or so passed and she didn’t receive a letter with his intention to call, I wondered if he did indeed have as much admiration for her as we’d all thought. Even Jane was surprised at his lack of communication and declared it most odd. We conjectured that he must be preoccupied with some business matter or have gone away to London. She said she had been awakened by a fast-moving carriage in the early hours of the morning three days past, and perhaps it had been him? It was all presumption on our part.
Meanwhile, poor Harriet bore his slight well and stoically as I knew she would. Never let it be said that a Blackburn girl crumbled under the pressure of waiting for a gentleman to write!
But after another week passed without seeing hide nor hair of the fine gentleman, it was too much, and she cracked.
‘Let us go into Overton for ribbons,’ she said to me rather brightly one morning at breakfast. ‘I need some new ones.’
Now walking was one of my favourite pastimes. But it was a two-hour round trip, and with the hotter weather we’d been having lately, Overton was a destination best reached by buggy. However, George would be a horror to manage if a journey of that length was foisted upon him without due preparation (namely a large bag of oats and much mollycoddling).
‘Can we not visit the haberdasher’s here in Steventon?’ I asked. ‘It is so much closer.’
To my dismay, Harriet’s bright manner faded, and she looked ready to burst into tears. ‘But it is such a lovely morning.’ She glanced at Papa, obscured behind his newspaper, and said in a low voice, ‘I need to walk, Fliss. Otherwise, I shall go positively mad.’
Surprised at her forcefulness but understanding from whence it stemmed, I readily agreed to go. I hated to see her becoming so strung up over Mr Pringle. If a gentleman had to bear the same misery he inflicted on a woman with his silence, would he do it in quite so carefree a manner? I wondered. Then again, we did not know the reason for Mr Pringle being quiet. Perhaps he had been called away on business with only a moment’s notice to prepare for his journey. Furthermore, he may have had a carriage accident and be now lying in a hospital with broken bones, unable to send word or worse. It was not unheard-of for such a thing to have happened. Aunt’s husband had died in just such a manner when his horse bolted and the carriage overturned. So while I did not mention this to Harriet, it must’ve been on her mind, hence her imploring us to go for a long distracting walk.
After breakfast, I sought out my sturdiest boots and readied myself for our excursion. Papa urged us to take his umbrella for ‘It may rain excessively, girls!’ But it was a cumbersome, heavy thing; and I, for one, didn’t want to carry it in the off chance of more than a light shower. Neither did Harriet as she replied, ‘We will shelter under a tree, Papa. Do not worry.’ Impatient to be away, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and strode outside, with me tailing after her.
Fifteen minutes later, we were on the outskirts of Steventon and walking along the main road to Overton. Having had to jump into the ditch to narrowly avoid two carriages, we were now at a stile and contemplating going cross-country.
‘It is a more scenic route and faster certainly,’ I said, putting up a hand to shade my eyes against the sun. ‘But it goes right past Ashbury Manor.’
‘Does it?’ said Harriet innocently.
‘You know very well it does. Is this your motive for dragging me out on a two-hour walk—to spy on Mr Pringle?’
‘Of course not!’ said Harriet, sounding suitably horrified. ‘ I would never suggest such a thing.’ She lifted her skirt and proceeded to clamber over the stile. ‘Though if we did happen to run into one of his servants, it would be only polite to ask about his health.’
‘Hmm,’ I muttered, not really wanting to be anywhere in the vicinity of Mr Stonyface if I could help it. But Harriet, it seemed, was determined to seek answers to Mr Pringle’s whereabouts.
The path took us on a pleasant amble across green fields and several more stiles. Despite a small blister rubbing on my heel, I was enjoying being out of doors, breathing the fresh morning air and watching the swallows swoop in the clear blue sky. It was indeed a glorious day. Not the slightest hint of bad weather.
Before too long, we could sight the chimneys of Ashbury Manor in the distance. Edged by trees, the path wound around the back of the grand house, which, although we peered through the trees for a number of minutes to determine any movement, showed no signs of life.
‘We could always knock on the servants’ door for a cup of water,’ suggested Harriet. Her forehead was bathed in light sweat from our exertions, and her expression was one of consternation.
‘I think not, dearest,’ I replied gently. There was a good chance of bumping into Mr Fitzroy the longer we lingered, and I didn’t have a ready excuse for why we were snooping around. He wasn’t a fool either, I’d give him that. No, much better to be on our way.
I looped my arm through Harriet’s and tugged her along the path.
‘I know it’s difficult to wait, but I’m sure Mr Pringle has a reason for his absence. You will just have to be patient. It is a good test of character.’
‘Oh, but I enjoyed his company so much!’ she blurted.
‘It was just two dances,’ I reasoned. ‘You shouldn’t hang any hope of marrying him upon that.’
‘’Tis true,’ she said gloomily. ‘And it’s not like I have any great fortune to entice him.’
‘If Mr Pringle is a man of worth, he won’t care about that.’
I sounded confident to my own ears, but inside, I sorely doubted that Harriet’s looks and personality were enough to secure a man of his stature. Our position was in fact somewhat precarious. If anything happened to Papa, our house was entailed to go to our cousin and heir, one Mr Percival Humbleton. We’d met him once; he was the son of Mama’s sister, a little older than us and now, by all accounts, a respected clergyman in Hertfordshire. But despite being our cousin and a man of God, he still had the power to turn us out of our home if he decided to sell it. Aunt said she’d heard of such things happening, and the stories were truly distressing, hence why she was so eager for us to make good matches. But I preferred to stick my head in the sand and not dwell on it.
By the time we reached Overton, I was hot, parched, and perspiring like the proverbial piglet I’d been accused of resembling. Leaning against a pillar outside the haberdasher’s, I urged Harriet to go in without me and said I’d join her presently when I’d collected myself. Blotting my forehead and upper lip with my lavender-scented handkerchief, I took in the various sights of the main street.
Overton, being a larger town than Steventon, was much busier, dirtier, and noisier. Carriages swung by, and horses’ hooves kicked up clouds of dust. Small children squealed as mothers tugged them out of the way before they got mowed down. Clerks hurried past, carrying leather satchels bulging with papers, and then there were the crowds of general passers-by stopping to converse loudly with friends.
Through all this mayhem, I spied the face of someone that I wished to avoid at all costs. My heart started galloping in my chest as Mr Stonyface came striding down the street towards me. He was far enough away that he was still quite unaware of my presence as I was half hidden behind the pillar. I eyed the shop door; if I were hasty, I could sneak inside without an awkward encounter. But to do so, I should have to reveal my position. Perhaps he would stroll right past without me needing to acknowledge his presence. I didn’t want to snub the man, but I was willing to feign ignorance and get away with it if I could.
Carefully, I opened my handkerchief and used it to shield my face, thus further obscuring me from his view. The pretence, I believed, was entirely successful until I heard a deep male voice intone dryly, ‘Good day, Miss Blackburn.’
I lowered my handkerchief to find the gentleman himself gazing directly at me with a brooding expression. My throat contracted. ‘Oh, g-good day, Mr Fitzroy,’ I stuttered.
He touched his hat briefly and made as if to continue on but then paused and said, ‘Are you in town for business?’
I was surprised that he seemed to want to converse. Perhaps he deemed it only polite.
‘A business of sorts. My sister, Harriet, is purchasing ribbons.’ I gestured towards the haberdasher’s.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Ah.’
Although I didn’t wish to prolong the conversation, it now occurred to me I could press him for information to put Harriet’s mind at ease.
‘I trust you have settled into Ashbury Manor?’ I asked.
Mr Fitzroy made a grunting noise, which I took to be assent. ‘As well as can be expected.’
‘Are the rooms not to your taste?’ I asked, deadpan .
He stared at me suspiciously, unsure if I was teasing him. Oh I was!
‘They are adequate,’ he replied after duly considering my straight face to convince himself that I was serious. ‘But the rooms, though spacious, have rather low ceilings. Being tall, one does tend to feel constricted in such surroundings.’
I nodded in feigned sympathy while thinking of my own house with its decidedly unspacious rooms and low ceilings. Oh dear, he’d positively hate it. But I needed to get him off the topic of houses.
‘Is Mr Pringle, by any chance’—I looked beyond his broad shoulder down the street—‘with you?’
‘Unfortunately not. He had to go to London for an urgent family matter. I decided to take the spare carriage to town. But now that I’m here, I find that there is nothing particularly charming to look at.’ His nose wrinkled, and I instantly took offence. It appeared he was including me in the uncharming sights of Overton. Oh, his manner was so disagreeable!
‘I see,’ I said coldly, and he shot me a glance.
‘Present company excepted, of course,’ he murmured and bowed, which I returned, my ruffled feathers somewhat smoothed. However, I didn’t believe him in the slightest—it was all poppycock. I had heard well enough what he thought of me. But no matter !
‘Will Mr Pringle be returning soon?’ I asked innocently, determined to get the information I needed.
‘I expect to see him tomorrow evening,’ he replied. ‘Depending on the roads. It looks like we’re in for a spot of rain.’ I glanced at the sky along with him and saw a large black cloud, born from the humidity, heading this way.
I nodded in agreement but, not wanting to get into a yawn-inducing discussion about the weather, edged towards the door front. ‘Please excuse me. I should go and assist Harriet.’
‘By all means. Don’t let me keep you. Ribbons are, of course, most important.’ A small smile appeared on his well-formed lips as if he were amused by his statement, and I couldn’t help staring. Why, he looked actually human when he smiled. But at the same time, I found myself wanting to kick him in the shin for making fun at my expense. My feelings towards him were most disconcerting.
Before I could utter anything else, he doffed his hat and strode off back the way he’d come, no doubt to locate his carriage and get home before it rained. Bother, maybe I should have lugged Papa’s umbrella to town after all. With another glance at the sky, I hurried into the haberdasher’s, eager to soothe Harriet’s angst now that I’d discovered Mr Pringle’s return was imminent.
To say that Harriet was overjoyed at the news I imparted was an understatement. She gripped the glove display table tightly with one hand while the other fluttered to her throat.
‘Well!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was worth coming to town to hear that! Tomorrow night, you say? And an urgent family matter? I hope all is quite well.’
I absently stroked a pair of white silk gloves, the colour of which matched Mr Fitzroy’s necktie perfectly. As I’d been standing on the shopfront, I’d been taller than usual and directly in front of his cravat. I’d seen it bob a bit as he’d swallowed before speaking.
‘Fliss?’ Harriet was looking at me, and I roused myself.
‘All must be well if Mr Pringle is coming back. Otherwise, he’d stay in London,’ I replied. ‘Have you chosen your ribbons? It may rain, so we need to make haste.’
Harriet dutifully completed her purchase, and we began walking home. But no sooner had we reached the outskirts of Overton than the first fat drops started falling. With so much of our journey still to be undertaken, I feared we would be wet through within five minutes. I tugged on Harriet’s arm to slow her. ‘Perhaps we should shelter in town and wait for it to pass?’
She readily agreed, and we turned around. But a carriage was headed at a fast clip towards us, so we stood back from the road to let it pass. To my surprise, the driver slowed the horse as it drew near, and the window lowered. Mr Fitzroy’s face appeared, and we all bowed accordingly.
‘Excuse me, ladies, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re about to get drenched. Can I offer you a ride to Steventon?’
I hesitated, weighing the options: being stuck in a carriage with Mr Fitzroy for the next twenty minutes or walking over fields with a sodden dress. It was a difficult decision. But before I could reply, a crack of thunder sounded in the distance; and Harriet jumped and said hastily, ‘Thank you, sir! We’d be much obliged!’
The carriage door swung open, and a large elegant hand with neatly manicured nails extended, which she took; then she hopped up inside. There was nothing I could do but follow suit, but I declined his hand, being able to fend for myself. Although he’d called it “the spare”, the carriage was still finely upholstered and much grander than our old buggy. However, it did feel rather small with Mr Fitzroy’s large frame taking up most of the space. I had to take particular care that my knees did not knock against his. He rapped on the red-silk-lined roof, and we set off.
Harriet attempted to make polite small talk, to which Mr Fitzroy gave curt one-word replies. But I was content to watch the rain now falling in sheets across the green fields from a slate-coloured sky.
‘Do you walk often to Overton, Miss Blackburn?’ he asked suddenly, directing the question to me.
‘Not if I can help it,’ I said. ‘I prefer to ride George, though he needs some convincing if the distance is over a mile.’
‘George is our buggy horse,’ supplied Harriet helpfully. ‘He’s a stubborn brute. Only Fliss can manage him.’
I smiled at that. ‘Yes, he’s a man that certainly needs a firm hand, but I’m up to the task.’
One of Mr Fitzroy’s eyebrows quirked, and I flushed a little when I realised what I’d said. ‘Er, I mean, he usually toes the line if you give him some extra oats in the morning before setting off.’
‘Extra oats indeed,’ replied Mr Fitzroy with a smirk. ‘I know I’m always more amenable with a full stomach.’
It was on the tip of my tongue to enquire exactly how much more amenable when, fortunately, there was a ‘Whoa, boy!’ from outside. My remark could have been construed as flirtatious, and the last thing I wanted to do was flirt with Mr Fitzroy.
The carriage slowed considerably, and the gentleman lowered the window and stuck his head out to see what the issue was.
‘Just a couple taking up too much of the road,’ h e said, wiping the rain off his face with a handkerchief. ‘They didn’ t hear the carriage.’
As we passed the ‘couple’, I caught a glimpse of who they were: Samuel and a young woman. He was holding his jacket over her head; and as she tilted her smiling face up towards him, he took the opportunity, at that very moment, to lean down and place a kiss upon her pouty lips!
I drew a shocked breath, not believing what my eyes had seen. Samuel had professed his interest in me ; and yet here he was, in broad daylight, carrying on with a floozy. My face grew hot as humiliation burned and tears pricked my eyes. Harriet had seen the display as well but could do nothing to comfort me being seated directly opposite.
‘Maybe we could speed up a little now,’ she murmured worriedly, seeing my pained expression.
Mr Fitzroy was looking at me curiously. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Blackburn?’
I nodded my head mutely as embarrassment turned to rage. How could Samuel do this to me? The two-timing lout!
I had permitted him to be amorous with me because I liked him despite his lack of fortune and he was the handsomest man in the village. But it appeared that Mr Green’s attention was now wholly given to another. And I was a fool for believing the words of affection he’d whispered to me in a dark hay barn.