Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The May Day Fayre; Tygers and Pigs
Two days later
‘What say you, Miss Fairfax?’ Sir Francis queried in his rich tone. ‘Do you believe William Blake celebrates, or condemns, the fiercest of beasts?’
Josephine flushed, as Sir Francis fell into step beside her, on the country lane connecting Knightswood with the heart of the village.
She glanced down at their shadows, one so much larger than the other, and briefly wondered how they would look with the additions of a top hat and wedding veil, before forcing her wayward thoughts forward.
She’d always been the bookworm sister, the dreamiest sister, the lovelorn for a fictional hero sister – not the embarrassingly tongue-tied around a mortal gentleman sister.
‘Are you talking about The Tyger again, Dashton?’ Fred interjected, rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll never understand your incessant talk about poetic jungle cats, when we have feral pigs right here in Knightswood!’
Everyone chuckled.
‘You were so scared at the fayre,’ Matilda teased, hoisting up her muslin skirt as they reached the estate gate.
‘That sow was going to bite me!’ Fred defended himself hotly. ‘And, if you ask me, motherhood makes any beast the fiercer.’
‘And what makes you such a connoisseur?’ she retorted.
‘WelI, I thought you did an admirable job, Fred,’ Josephine placated, finally finding her voice.
She pushed her spectacles back up her nose.
‘The Oxford Sandy is attractive, but the Devon Black is hardier, and Thomas is certain they’re easier to breed.
And in answer to your question, Sir Francis,’ she added, avoiding his gaze, ‘I believe Blake may have been questioning why a creator who made the lamb, made the fearsome tiger too? Of course, he goes on to hint that both are necessary in our world – rather like love and fear, I suppose…’
There was a brief silence while everyone looked at Josephine, turning an even rosier pink in the dappled shade of the old apple tree.
Sir Francis cleared his throat. ‘Most perceptive, Miss Fairfax.’ He reached to open the small wrought-iron pedestrian gate.
‘And I must own to being rather impressed that your personal studies have given you such insight. Best breeding pigs and Blake all in the same breath – there are not many young ladies who can claim such a ready and extensive knowledge.’
He paused to run his fingers through his flaxen hair, the spring sunlight reflecting in his eyes as a smile spread across his face. It was a picture worthy of a gallery and, briefly, Josphine couldn’t help but gaze.
‘You should know better than to try and catch Josephine out!’ Matilda challenged. ‘You and Fred might have degrees from Oxford, but Josephine is the most well-read and versed of us all. You would have to search far and wide to find any lady, or gentleman, as knowledgeable as she.’
‘So I understand.’ Sir Francis nodded. ‘And I’ve always maintained there is something truly noble about knowledge gained through personal study, rather than in discussion with the professors and dons of Oxford.
’ He looked thoughtful as Matilda leapt down from the estate gate into the field of daisies.
‘I say!’ he added with a swift grin. ‘I do believe that was a dismount worthy of an acrobat, Miss Matilda! Indeed, I recall Fred mentioning you once had ambitions for a career in the circus, is that true?’
He chuckled, as Fred reached down to grasp a handful of daisies and toss them at his tall, golden friend. Sir Francis retaliated instantly, grabbing handfuls of the meadow flowers in both hands, before giving chase.
‘Matilda!’ Josephine whispered earnestly as soon as the gentlemen were out of earshot.
‘You must know that most gentlemen don’t like it if we appear more well-read than they!
I’ve had to bite my tongue countless times at soirees and social evenings, even though they talk as though they are quite the authority on everything.
And don’t ask me how many gentlemen have thought it acceptable to quote Byron most imperfectly, as a way of opening a conversation. ’
She stole a sidelong look at her protective younger sister as the gentlemen gambolled ahead, throwing daisies like hapless schoolboys.
‘Well, I think you should be proud of who you are!’ Matilda retorted. ‘And if a gentleman cannot cope with a lady having more knowledge than he, then he is not worthy of the lady! I’d take imperfect Byron over perfect Francis anyway,’ she added cryptically.
‘Pardon?’ Josephine frowned.
‘Oh nothing.’ Matilda exhaled. ‘They are very good friends, are they not?’ she added curiously as they fell in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
‘It’s true I once had ambitions to join the circus, Sir Francis,’ she called out in her next breath, ‘but I’ve since decided more adventure lies with the army. ’
‘Matilda!’ Josephine groaned.
At this latest intrigue, the two gentlemen ceased their play-fight at last and waited for the ladies to join them.
‘And your eldest brother has approved this military life for you?’ Sir Francis quizzed, as Fred snorted his faith in his sister’s chances.
‘Matilda has a great many ambitions,’ Josephine defended swiftly. ‘She also has her first season approaching at the end of the year, which I’m sure will bring many new opportunities.’
‘And what of you, Miss Fairfax?’ Sir Francis smiled. ‘Have you left many admirers languishing in London? It is a little early to be returning to the country, is it not?’
Josephine willed herself not to flush, mortified Sir Francis should remark upon her unusual presence at home while the season was still in full swing. She hesitated, searching for a reasonable excuse not to be in town.
Thankfully, Fred came to her rescue. ‘Oh, Lord, Jo needs Knightswood air for her lungs!’ he exclaimed. ‘And my bookworm sister would far rather be tucked up with all her stories than dancing in Almack’s, wouldn’t you, Jo?’
Josephine nodded, torn between gratitude for his intervention and fresh annoyance that he’d mentioned her lung affliction.
She wasn’t ashamed, but Aunt Higglestone’s frequent mention of it in town had attracted both suspicion and dismissal by several matriarchs, as though she was far too risky for any bridegroom to consider seriously.
‘Indeed, it is true,’ she covered brightly. ‘Yet, what time is there to be thinking of languishing admirers when there is the mysterious tale of an infamous lord’s return from the continent to consider?’ she added, turning the conversation from herself.
‘Ah, you must be referring to none other than Lord Alistair Huntingly of Huntingly Manor!’ Sir Francis grinned, taking the bait. ‘The scandalous lord who disappeared abroad after a murderous duel and hasn’t been seen for six whole years…’
‘Hogwash!’ Fred called good-naturedly. ‘And you know so too, Francis.’
Together, they turned onto the path that wound through Knightswood’s avenue of oak trees, towards the grand house nestling at the top of the formal lawns.
This morning, it was surrounded by a haze of bluebells and, briefly, Josephine wished she had her notebook with her to capture the springtime scene.
‘I?’ Sir Francis reposted, his sea-spray eyes widening so theatrically they all laughed.
‘Was it hogwash?’ Josephine asked shyly. ‘I did so enjoy the newspaper reporting a bloody, murderous duel without a body to show for it.’
‘Ah well, that was the sticking point,’ Sir Francis chuckled. ‘The gossip was rather more fun than the facts, wasn’t it, Fred? Though he was a devilish cavy fellow, even at Oxford.’
‘Cavy? Huntingly?’ Fred frowned. ‘Don’t recall that? I mean, he was more annoying than anything else. The kind of bright, sporting fellow who was as popular with the gentlemen as with the ladies, but quite decent with it too… Anyway, you get the picture…’ He broke off hastily.
Josephine glanced across at Sir Francis and was surprised to find him looking rather less mirthful all of a sudden.
‘You knew Huntingly at Oxford, Fred?’ Matilda demanded. ‘Then you’ll know whether or not he did it?’
‘Or, at least, if he had the potential…’ Josephine amended carefully. ‘And perhaps the identity of his opponent? Do you know what they argued about, or what prompted the duel?’
‘Yes, and why were there no bodies?’ Matilda added impatiently.
‘So many gruesome questions for well-bred young ladies.’ Fred chuckled with a glance at his quiet friend. ‘In truth, it was an age ago—’ he shrugged ‘—and it happened some time after we graduated. I was probably halfway up some impossibly tall chiesa with Francis at the time.’
He glanced again at Sir Francis, who smiled faintly, prompting a tiny flutter in Josephine’s core.
‘Oh, Fred, you must remember something!’ Matilda grumbled. ‘At least what prompted the duel – everyone must have been gossiping about it.’
‘Well…’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘I can’t recall precise details but, as far as I know, there was some dispute over old Lord Huntingly’s will involving his steward’s son.
’ He shrugged. ‘Sounded a damned messy affair, to be honest, and suffice to say we were all a bit shocked when the news broke. I mean, it’s one thing calling out friends over a game of faro, but the son of a steward who’s shot naught else but rabbits his life long?
It just didn’t seem very … Huntingly. Not that I knew him all that well.
He was in with the fast set generally, all boxing and racing, laced with wild nights in between.
Popular on the whole, but when a gentleman is in his cups and provoked…
’ He glanced again at Francis. ‘Francis knew him better than me, but neither of us stayed in touch … must have some flaw somewhere, I suppose.’
‘But what of the duel? Don’t you know why both gentlemen disappeared?’ Matilda complained in a disappointed tone.