Chapter Eight
P
The dowager had taken Linus’s suggestion regarding the afternoon’s activities.
The east lawn of Lampton Park was set up for lawn games.
Tables and chairs had been placed around the area with awnings erected to provide shade.
In addition to Linus’s family, that afternoon’s gathering included a few neighbors.
The family who had been mentioned earlier, who boasted two socializing-aged daughters, had arrived, as had the second of the Jonquil brothers.
The local curate, whom Linus had not yet met but suspected, based on the tall, slender build and golden hair, was a relative of the Jonquils, attended as well.
He did not spy Miss Hampton. Did she not care for lawn games?
Perhaps she simply didn’t care for crowds.
During their brief conversations, he’d come to suspect she preferred quieter, more personal interactions.
Truth be told, he rather did as well. But his place amongst his family was trivial enough without making himself socially pointless.
He would do well to see to it he was friendly.
He made his way to where Mr. Layton Jonquil and his wife, a lady with a head of shockingly red hair and a brilliant smile, were talking with the dowager.
Layton’s wife held a young child in her arms, one likely not yet a full year old.
Little Caroline stood with her hand in Layton’s, and the mystery of her place in the broader Jonquil family was solved.
“Good afternoon, Miss Caroline,” Linus said, offering a bow.
She blushed and smiled. “Good afternoon.”
“Have you come to play lawn games with us?” he asked.
She nodded. “Papa said I could. He said Olive would be here too.”
Olive? “Do you mean Oliver?”
She nodded again.
Linus hadn’t heard that his nephew would be taking part.
He hoped it was true. Oliver’s quiet disposition coupled with the intimidating nature he had inherited from his father would make friendships more difficult to come by down the road if he were not afforded opportunities to practice interacting with others.
Beginning that practice early seemed a good idea.
“Do you have a favorite lawn game?” he asked little Caroline.
“I like bowls.” She faced him fully, though with her hand still in her father’s.
“I am quite good at bowls,” he said. “I enjoy it very much.”
“As much as making paper boats?”
He thought on it a moment. “Probably, provided I have a fun partner.”
Her eyes dropped, and her mouth pressed closed. Bless her dear little heart.
“Would you be my partner?” he asked.
Her head immediately snapped up. “Really?”
Linus met Caroline’s father’s eye. “Mr. Jonquil,” he said very formally, “might I beg the honor of partnering with your daughter for a game of bowls?”
Layton matched his staid tone. “Are you a reliable gentleman? I do not allow my daughter to play bowls with just anyone.”
“He made boats with me, Papa. And he told Charming they could ride horses together. And he kept Olive from falling in the water by telling him he couldn’t go in the water. And he talked to me even though I was shy when I first saw him.”
Tenderness filled her father’s expression when he looked at her. “Would you like to play bowls with Mr. Lancaster?”
“Yes, please.”
Layton looked at Linus once more. He mouthed the words “Thank you.”
Linus smiled back.
Caroline’s mother entered the discussion. “Should Caroline grow tired”—dropping her voice almost to silent, she added—“or should you”—then returned to her normal volume—“simply bring her back.”
“I will.” He offered a quick bow to the both of them, then held his hand out to Caroline. They walked toward the spot where the bowls equipment was set out, their arms swinging between them. “I should warn you in case we are teamed against my youngest sister, she cheats.”
Caroline skipped alongside him, her hand still in his. “Flip cheats too.”
“Who is Flip?”
“One of Papa’s boys. He lives here. He’s an earl, but he’s still funny.”
Flip, then, was her name for Lord Lampton, whose Christian name was, if Linus remembered correctly, Philip. And Caroline had referred to Charlie as Charming. Oliver was Olive. Did she have odd names for everyone?
“That gentleman just over there,” he motioned to the gentleman he had been told was the curate. “Is he one of your father’s brothers as well?”
She nodded. “That is Holy Harry.”
Holy Harry. Linus had to bite back the snort of amusement that arose at that name. What a horridly perfect moniker for a man of the church.
“He is not a vicar yet,” Caroline continued.
“But Flip calls him the vicar because it makes his face turn red, and that makes Flip laugh. And when Flip laughs, all of Papa’s boys laugh.
Except Chasin’. Flip makes him roll his eyes, though not as much as he used to.
Chasin’s butterfly makes him very happy, so he does not get frustrated like he did before. ”
Most of that made little to no sense. But hearing the little girl speak so eagerly and with such animation did his heart a world of good.
Her earlier quietness had reminded him so strongly of his dear sister Daphne, whom he’d worried about for so many years.
Sharing a friendly moment with this golden-haired version of her felt almost like stepping back into his own childhood and being part of his family again.
They had not yet reached the bowls section of the lawn when Athena, accompanied by two young ladies likely somewhere near Artemis’s age, approached.
His older sister wore the same intent expression she had the night before when introducing him to Lady Belinda.
Apparently her one-at-a-time strategy hadn’t inflicted quite enough misery.
“Linus,” she said, “I do not believe you have yet made the acquaintance of Miss Romrell and Miss Jane Romrell.”
“I have not.” He offered the expected bow.
“And I do not know if the three of you have had the pleasure of being introduced to Miss Jonquil.” He set his hand on Caroline’s shoulder and tucked her up against his leg, knowing she was a little bashful at meeting strangers.
“She is one of my favorite people and has agreed to be my partner for lawn bowls.”
The two Misses Romrell looked to Athena, surprise and alarm in their expression. Had his troublemaking sister promised them his attention? He didn’t know whether to be annoyed at her efforts or amused at how very diverting it was to thwart them.
“If you will excuse us,” he said, “Miss Jonquil and I are eager to begin our game.”
Keeping Caroline at his side, Linus stepped away, moving toward their original destination.
“Am I really one of your favorite people?” Caroline asked quietly.
“You absolutely are.”
She smiled up at him, the brilliance of her expression warming him through. “My mama says that too. She says she liked me from the very beginning.”
“I am certain she did.”
Artemis, practically dragging Charlie Jonquil behind her, arrived at the designated location for bowls just as Linus and Caroline did. Telling his tiny partner about Artemis’s questionable history with bowls had likely fated them to this arrangement.
“Are we to be opponents?” Linus asked.
“How fun.” Artemis’s enthusiasm was as apparent as Charlie’s lack thereof. Poor lad. “I hope you are good at bowls, Mr. Jonquil.”
“I’m not.”
Artemis was not discouraged. “My brother is not very good either, so it should even out.”
“He is good,” Caroline insisted.
Artemis looked down at her, smiling and friendly. “Who is? My brother or your uncle?”
Caroline thought about it a moment. “Both.”
Artemis tossed Charlie a saucy look. “Have you been downplaying your talents?”
To his credit, he set aside his annoyance enough to join in the banter. “A gentleman does not brag.”
“Is it also a violation of the gentlemen’s code to heartlessly trounce one’s competition?” she asked.
“It is when that competition is my favorite six-year-old niece.” He winked at Caroline, and she giggled.
“I believe we can all agree,” Linus said, “that Caroline is the one in charge here.”
Her giggle turned to a full laugh.
Artemis smiled broadly. “Shall you and I set up the game?” she asked the little girl.
Caroline eagerly joined her, leaving Linus and Charlie behind.
“How did my sister force your hand?” Linus asked.
“She asked in front of my mother, who is still put out with me over the milkmaid figurine.”
“Ah.”
Charlie shrugged. He clearly didn’t find the arrangement entirely to his liking, but he was being obliging. “I was only standing there because I had hoped to spy Arabella and ask her to be my partner. We’ve known each other forever. I wouldn’t have been under any pressure to be impressive.”
“Do you often feel that pressure?”
“Jonquils are supposed to be exceptional,” Charlie said. “It wouldn’t do to be the only one who turned out ordinary.”
There was a piece of the puzzle this young gentleman presented. Though his contradictory thoughts that first day had been focused on his schooling, it seemed at least part of his struggles were familial.
Linus could appreciate that worry. His brother had been extraordinary.
Stepping into the role meant to have been Evander’s was only serving to highlight his own shortcomings.
His inadequacy would be obvious once he returned to Shropshire and took up the reins of the estate.
Everyone would see it, and he would have to face it all himself: how ill-suited he was, how empty the estate now sat, how irrevocably and painfully lost to him Evander truly was.
“I should warn you,” Charlie said, “if Arabella returns from her walk earlier than usual, I intend to abandon your sister.”
One glance at Charlie’s face told Linus he was jesting. He had manners enough not to rudely leave, even if he’d been strong-armed into being present.
“Does Miss Hampton often go for walks?”
Charlie nodded. “Every day. She always has, sometimes for hours on end. She’s known in the neighborhood for it.”