“Well, Darrius, Father loaned us a thousand pounds to get our affairs in order and insisted that we re-hire the solicitor. Then he remarked that he was glad he had tied up my inheritance so that George… um, what was the phrase he used? Oh, yes. Could not make ducks and drakes of it.”
“Can you lend me the money for a new carriage?” Darrius asked wheedlingly.
“Oh, darling, you know I would if I could. But my allowance is small. It pays the servants here, and provides victualing and incidentals for the house so that you are spared the burden of it. You could lessen the amount that you add to my household for a few months if you wish. But unless your carriage costs less than forty pounds, I’m afraid a loan is out of the question.”
Darrius knew very well that a new carriage would cost a great deal more than forty pounds. In fact, the least expensive one he had considered cost nearly four hundred guineas. It was an impossible sum, yet for the want of it, he would be forced to ride about in the old family coach or be reduced to hiring a conveyance to go about town. It simply did not bear thinking on.
“Do not pull such a long face, my son. The crops will surely be better this year, and at summer’s end you may very well be able to purchase a new coach before the London season. Look, here is Mrs. Swinton and Mr. Rudge with a fine tea for us.”
Darrius would have been just as happy to do without the cook, but he had to admit that the young woman would never have been able to carry two trays by herself.
Mrs. Swinton was dressed a little differently today, he noted. She was still dressed in black, but instead of the high collared jacket and skirt, she was wearing a gown with a round neckline. Fine linen ruching, edged with black, modestly concealed her bosom, and she had exchanged the black lace cap for a white one with black edging.
She must be giving up strict mourning. Perhaps I will now have a chance to persuade her into my bed. She is quite appealing, and would be an excellent last fling before my marriage. Perhaps I could talk her into becoming my mistress even after I am married.
The thought cheered him immensely, so he put himself out to be pleasant all during tea.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Swinton stuck close to his mother, and gave him not even a chance to brush her fingers with his when she served the tea.
“Would you like for me to read to you?” Mrs. Swinton solicitously asked his mother after the tea things were taken away.
“If you do not mind, dear,” the Duchess requested. “I would enjoy it greatly. I believe we were reading George’s account of walking on the moors.”
“Indeed, we were,” Mrs. Swinton responded.
“Darrius, would you care to stay and listen? It was one of my favorite journeys with your father. It was nearly two years after you were born, and we were hoping that the trip would result in a little brother or sister for you.”
“I’ve heard it before,” Darrius replied ungraciously. “I think I’ll go back to the Main House and see if I can discover some ways to economize.”
“That is the spirit,” his mother encouraged him. “I am sure that you will come up with something in no time. That way you can have the new carriage for when you and dear Blanche are wed.”
This was an unwelcome reminder of his upcoming nuptials, but he dared not let his mother know his true feelings. A great many things, including holding off his creditors, depended on going through with the arranged marriage.
After I am wed, I will have control of her money as well as my own. Then I will be able to get out of debt and to buy a carriage and a perch phaeton if I wish, and even maintain them in London. Then I should easily be able to persuade the stuck-up little companion to become my mistress.
With these cheerful thoughts, he trudged merrily back to the Main House, little suspecting the surprises that lay ahead.
Chapter 12
Mayson cheerfully packed a new willow basket with treats he had purchased out of his own pay. There was a hard sausage smoked by the local butcher, a lovely wedge of cheese, and soft rolls of his own making.
He did bend his principles enough to use a little flour from the common store to make the rolls, especially since he made enough for everyone to have some.
There was also a neat little crate of strawberries, purchased from the estate’s gardener, a covered container of clotted cream, some sweet butter, and a full dozen sweet biscuits. There was a bottle of cold tea and another of sweet, fresh cider. Over it all he tucked a red and white checkered tablecloth, and over that a rough blanket.
He was just beginning to wonder if Mrs. Swinton would actually go picnicking with him when she came down the inner stairs, her outdoor shoes clicking on the stone.
“Oh!” She said, seeming startled. “I almost did not know you. You look rather splendid.”
Mayson gave her a little half bow. “Thank you, Mrs. Swinton. I will own I dusted off my best suit in honor of the occasion. I have just finished packing our feast. Are you ready?”
“Indeed I am!” she replied merrily. “I will be glad to see the out of doors. It has been so long since I went on a picnic. Years, actually. My sisters and I shared one not long before the youngest was married. Now, we are all scattered to the winds.” She sighed a little, but quickly recovered herself. “How lovely it will be to walk out in the sunshine.”
It was a beautiful day. Mayson carried the picnic basket on his right arm, and offered his left to Mrs. Swinton. “I am pleased to offer you a special occasion,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied. “It is so very nice of you to think of me.”
Mayson could think of nothing to say to that, other than, “You are welcome.” They strolled along in companionable silence, soaking up the warm sunshine and listening to the birds sing. The air was scented with freshly mown grass and the clouds of honeysuckle that draped over the picket fences that lined the lane.
