Chapter 8 #2
“It seems I have little choice about my morning,” the duke said, giving a long sigh of resignation but then patting the little boy on the back.
“I do sympathize with Ezra too. I never liked being measured for clothes as a boy either. Needs must, I suppose. Come along, Ezra. I shall only accompany you if I am assured your pants will stay dry.”
Hoisting the boy up onto his shoulders, he walked him out into the hallway in search of the nursemaids.
The weather was beautiful and the paths down to Rosemere village were scenic but Benedict still couldn’t entirely dismiss his frustration at being press-ganged into this domestic outing.
He might have gone swimming in one of the lakes instead, or taken that stallion out for another hack through the woods.
Instead, he was striding through the countryside with a small boy on his shoulders, trying to stay at least a few steps ahead of Lady Louisa Ascot and keep his attention on something else at all times.
It had been hard to sleep after they parted last night and Benedict was glad that he could not remember his dreams today, suspecting that they had not been entirely decent.
“There is Barrow Hall where Sir Arthur and Lady Manners live,” sounded the young woman’s happy voice as the party walked past a old-fashioned house in beautifully kept gardens. “Oh, good morning, Sir Arthur! How well your lilacs are looking.”
“Welcome home, Lady Louisa,” called back a cheery old man from the gardens. “We’re glad to have you back in the neighborhood again, Lady Esher. You must call in and see Lady Manners.”
“Another time Sir Arthur,” replied Lady Esher, raising her hand in greeting. “We are taking our little guests to Mrs. Shaw this morning. Give my greetings to Lady Manners.”
“Shall I introduce you, Your Grace?” Lady Louisa asked, coming to Benedict’s side.
“Later,” he said quickly, nodding politely to the old man as they passed. “As your aunt said, we must get the children to the dressmaker now.”
They could not have been walking for more than twenty minutes but Louisa had already greeted at least half a dozen neighbors and friends, seeming incapable of smiling acknowledgement and passing by as any normal person might - or at least any normal denizen of London.
With the prospect of being introduced to yet another local acquaintance, Benedict began to long to be back in the capital.
We could be on this road all day if Lady Louisa carries on like this…
Yet far from being irritated, everyone of her acquaintance had so far responded with enthusiasm, crossing the road to greet them or coming to their gates to talk with her or with Lady Esher.
Lady Louisa made no distinction of rank either, greeting children from the small laborers’ cottages with as much pleasure as Sir Arthur Manners or the Rosemere rector’s wife, Mrs. Terrence.
Even when there was no one else on the road, Lady Louisa seemed to be ever talking, pointing out interesting features of the landscape, medicinal plants growing in hedgerows and herb gardens, and the best places to see certain birds and animals at this time of year.
Her knowledge surprised Benedict although he could not really say why it should. Lady Louisa had lived in the countryside for most of her life and clearly loved her home and gardens. Why should she not have learned all about it?
While Louisa talked most, presently about chamomile, Lady Esher’s commentary reflected affectionate indulgence for her niece. Fanny was clearly charmed with the walk, chattering effortlessly along with their companions.
“Chamomile like that is the best tea at bedtime, of course,” Lady Louisa was presently remarking to whoever might be listening, her voice sounding some way behind Benedict but still too close to be ignored. “You can brew it with hops and valerian for the most calming affect.”
“You do make the best herbal teas, my dear,” said Lady Esher.
“What’s that plant there?” asked Fanny, presumably pointing to something. Can that one make tea too?”
“Oh, that one is foxglove and should never go in a normal tea. It is only for medicine and the apothecaries give it to patients with bad hearts to strengthen the beat. You must not play with it, Fanny.”
“But I can pick chamomile?”
“Yes, you may pick as much chamomile as you wish, Fanny, and we shall gather some lavender later too. It is good for headaches and tension and I like to make lavender pillows for Aunt Beatrice.”
“I do appreciate those when my eyes ache from reading,” put in Lady Esher with a laugh, “and your willow bark tea too, when my rheumatism comes on. “With you in the house, I almost never need to call in the apothecary.”
Benedict listened, despite all his efforts to shut out Louisa’s cheerful musical voice.
Why are you so hard to ignore, Lady Louisa Ascot?
Ezra’s small fingers tugged in Benedict’s hair again, having been disentangled repeatedly but always finding their way back.
He supposed he would look like a wild man by the time they arrived in the village but doubted it would matter.
Rosemere was not London and there would be no one watching and gossiping.
This reflection crystallized understanding for Benedict on a related point.
Lady Louisa was likely fascinating to him largely because she was so different to London ladies.
She talked with genuine enthusiasm for her subjects rather than to attract attention and admiration, and her sincerity of feeling shone through in all that she said and did.
The simplicity and innocence of the explanation was a relief and Benedict relaxed and smiled to himself.
His peculiar feelings for Lady Louisa were just another reflection of his weariness with London, and he ought to regard her as he did Rosemere – a refreshing break from the metropolis, to be appreciated, but only temporarily, and with appropriate personal distance.
“Are you interested in herbal medicine at all, Your Grace?” asked Lady Esher politely, perhaps detecting the duke’s long silence.
“I know little of it, Lady Esher,” Benedict admitted, “but I do like to learn and would be glad to hear more of it. Do not let me disrupt the conversation.”
“Look, there’s some yarrow on the roadside, Fanny,” Lady Louisa remarked. “That one is good for healing bruises and wounds. I use it sometimes with arnica.”
Benedict chuckled softly to himself. He had been feeling rather bruised and wounded when he left London and hoped that this holiday in Rosemere would heal him as well as yarrow and arnica.