He breathed in fire; his lungs burned with each inhale.The young man answered as they heard a thundering roar.
“I hate to say this, but I do not believe there is a bend in the river.
The paddle tore from his grip and flew in the air.His hat took off in the spiraling wind.
He yelled. “I believe we are about to encounter a waterfall.”
His eyes widened, and he felt the sting of the crashing waves slam into his face.
The lady bowed her head, and tightly closed her eyes.Her cries drowned in the spray as the force of the raging water swallowed them up.
“OH NOOOOOO!”
* * *
“I got one,” Harry exclaimed to his friend, Percy, as he gave a swift yank on the rod and began reeling in the large trout. Percy reached for the net and prepared to capture the fish, as Harry brought it close to the bank of the stream, although the fish bucked and struggled.
“Damn, that is a nice one,” Percy said, as he held up the net with the snagged fish for Harry’s examination. “What fly are you using?”
“One I made myself.” Harry unhooked the fish and showed Percy what he had made—a hook tied with an assortment of brightly colored feathers.
Harry Buxton, the Earl of Creassey, was a handsome young man of seven-and-twenty, with dark hair that was prematurely graying at the temples. But his youthful face with dark eyes, a generous smile, and a strongly defined face was what attracted admiring glances from both ladies and gentlemen. And, as he was an active manager of his estate, he was not shy when it came to doing the hard work required. As a result, he had broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, and his skin was tanned by constant exposure to the sun.
“You are a much more dedicated fly fisherman than I am,” Percy said. “I would not have the patience to construct my own flies.”
“It relaxes me. Working on the estate all day, I like to have some quiet time to reflect and think and working on my flies does that for me.”
Percy Garvey was the youngest son of the Duke of Crauford, who held the neighboring estate of Billingsford. But the young Percy seemed to have no direction, and after a few years at Cambridge University was sent down for misbehaving and never returned.
The young Percy and Harry had been friends since childhood and often spent time together for fun and sport and confided in each other over any personal matters that might be troubling them.
Percy was nearly the same age as his friend, at four-and-twenty. But he was slight of build, shorter and with blond hair, a fair complexion and no sign that he ever contemplated hard work let alone did any. His family despaired for his future, but so far, Percy had no discernable direction for his life other than enjoying it however he could.
But the two young men’s friendship overrode any reservations Harry might have about Percy’s lazy character.
“Do you want to take any of the fish with you?” Harry laughed. “Even though you caught only one. Maria does not like trout, so it is just Mother and I who shall dine on it this evening.”
“No thank you,” Percy said, as he untethered his horse from a nearby tree. “I do not much care for fish of any kind. I just fish to accompany you mostly.”
“What a heathen you are, Percy. You have no taste or refinement.”
Percy punched Harry in the arm and assumed a boxing stance. “I challenge you on that point, Harry. There is no one more refined than I am. Ask all the ladies. They will tell you.”
Harry scoffed. “Yes, I have seen some of the ladies with whom you keep company. I hardly think they are the arbiters of the best taste. I do not see, what you see in those tavern wenches, my friend.”
“Just a dalliance from time to time. Nothing serious. Papa will arrange the perfect bride for me. One with great beauty and with a great deal of money.”
“You are a scoundrel, my friend, but I love you nonetheless.”
Percy mounted his horse, tipped his hat to Harry and said, “Give my best to your dear sister… and your mother, of course. But you can giveMariaa kiss for me.”
“I am certain my sister will be delighted with that, as she hardly pays you any attention at all.”
“Liar. She adores me,” he added, and then he rode off.
* * *
Creassey Manor was set at the far end of a fertile valley that comprised the Earl’s estate near Aldbourne in Wiltshire. The manor house was surrounded by low wooded hills and spread out, before the sixteenth century house, were lush formal gardens, hidden secret gardens, and expansive walks through woods and fields where Maria, Harry’s sister, loved to walk, book in hand, or with her dearest friend, Anna Hoskins, the daughter of a near neighbor, the Viscount Repington.
