Page 6 of A Winter’s Romance
Men are often delighted to explain their own interests, irrespective of whether they think you will comprehend the details.
—Advice to Young Ladies
K ate and Jane followed Major Paynton to the next cabinet, displaying marble and bronze statuettes.
“These items were brought back from Greece by the fourth viscount on his grand tour,” he explained, unlocking the cabinet and removing a bronze statuette. “That was before he came into the title, of course. This is a genuinely old item, but these others are copies, as his funds didn’t run to buying more antiques.” He handed the statuette to Jane, and another to Kate.
Kate watched as the major turned to answer a question from Jane. Jane had said she wasn’t looking for a husband, but did the major know that? If he had taken a liking to Jane, intelligent conversation seemed to be an attraction rather than a deterrent.
Might that be the case for his brother, too? Mr Paynton had seemed to enjoy explaining his design to her, and she had been fascinated by the details. Perhaps there were other men like them, so finding a husband who had thoughts beyond gambling and sport—and who had no need of her inheritance—might not be impossible, after all.
The major reached for another object to show to Jane, recalling Kate to her surroundings. The goddess she was examining held something in her arms—did the lettering on its base give a clue? That was the letter pi, then epsilon… “Persephone?” The goddess of spring, and those must be flowers.
“You can read Greek?” asked a voice from behind her.
She started, to her irritation, and spun around to see Mr Paynton regarding her with an amused smile. Had he crept up on her deliberately? “Mr Paynton, I wish you would tread more heavily when you enter a room!”
The other two looked around at her sharp tone.
“You startle easily, Miss Ardley,” Mr Paynton said.
No apology. It was her fault, then, was it, that he kept surprising her? He had not deliberately startled her when she fell in the snow, surely, but for this to happen for a third time in a single day could be no accident.
“You did approach quietly, Ben,” the major noted.
Kate gave him a smile of thanks, then turned back to Mr Paynton. “To answer your question, I recognise the letters and can sound out names.”
“You were spared the tedium of learning the language, then.”
“Indeed.” That was one way of describing a lack of opportunity. Not that she’d ever had a burning desire to learn Greek, but that wasn’t the point. Papa had ensured she was taught French and Italian, as they were considered suitable accomplishments for young ladies. “As you were spared the tedium of learning… embroidery.” She’d almost said painting.
He was still amused. “I had no wish to learn embroidery.”
“How fortunate!” She put Persephone back in her place. “Major Paynton, I believe there is a cabinet of fossils. Are they from this country?”
“Oh, they are Ben’s,” the major said. “I’ll let him explain them to you.” He took a brooch from the Greek cabinet.
That wasn’t what she’d intended by her request. Not at all.
“I will be happy to show you, Miss Ardley,” Mr Paynton said. “I am sorry I startled you just now—it was unintentional. You have an admirable ability to concentrate closely on what interests you.” Kate opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand. “I said ’admirable’, Miss Ardley. The ability to focus so deeply is something I envy.” He did look contrite.
“I accept your apology; thank you.”
“The fossils are in the next room.” He led the way. “Did you wish to learn Greek? I seem to have distressed you with my remarks on that as well.”
“Irritated, rather.” She glanced at his face, wondering how much to say. But it would do no harm to explain. “No—but Papa would not have engaged a tutor for that if I had wished to, as it is deemed more appropriate for women to learn Italian or French.”
“And I congratulated you on your lack of opportunity.” He gave a rueful smile. “My apologies—I can see how that could be annoying. Now, here are the cabinets—three of them, as you can see. You must stop me if I prate on too long about them. ”
Kate peered closely at the labels in the first cabinet. “Did you collect all of these yourself?”
“Most of them. My family used to spend part of every summer in Weymouth, and I pestered Father to be taken to Lyme Regis, which is well known as a source of fossils.” He picked out what looked like a coiled stone shell. “This is an ammonite. It was fossils like this, and similar present-day shells, that led me into architecture.” He turned it over, showing a flat, polished face that displayed the internal structure. “The way the creature expands its shell by growing these little cells gives it strength, and made me think about the way buildings are put together.”
“I like the shapes,” Kate said, tracing the curves with one finger. “The shape of buildings interests you, as well as the construction, I think?”
“Yes, indeed.” He chuckled. “Between us we have an artist’s eye, and an engineer’s. Neither of us is a naturalist, I think?”
“I do love looking at flowers, and butterflies—even beetles—but I don’t wish to study their habits.”
“Colour as well as form, then?” He moved to the next cabinet and took out a hemispherical lump of rock. “This is a geode.”
Ben kept the geode in the cabinet with its cut and polished face down because he enjoyed the gasps of astonishment when he showed the inside. Miss Ardley did not disappoint, gazing at the vivid blue banding and the crystal-lined central hollow with widened eyes.
“That’s beautiful! Did you find it?”
“Unfortunately not. My father bought this as a present for me.” He held it out .
Her fingers brushed his hand as she took it, turning it so the crystal facets caught the light. “I’d love to be able to paint this.”
“Can you not? I would find it simpler to draw than buildings.”
She lifted her gaze to his for a moment. “I can draw it, certainly, but to reproduce that deep blue accurately… I think that could not be achieved with watercolours.”
“Hmm, yes, I think you would need oil paints.” He saw a brief grimace, quickly gone. “I suppose your father thinks that painting in oils is not appropriate for women.”
“Something like that, yes. What are these other fossils?”
Ben took the object she was pointing at from the cabinet and handed it to her, enjoying the brief contact as their fingers touched again. “Barnacles. They are similar to those found today on rocks by the shore; unlike the ammonite, which has no extant equivalent.”
He realised he was in danger of giving her another lecture. And that wasn’t the only reason he should cut this discussion short. “There are some books about fossils in the library, if you are interested. I’m afraid I must leave you; Mother will expect me to spend some time with her other guests.”
“Thank you for showing me.”
“You are most welcome, Miss Ardley. Do inspect anything that takes your interest. Foster can provide the keys to the cabinets, if they are locked.” He bowed and left her examining the barnacles.
The hour he spent in the parlour was as awkward and tedious as Ben had expected, despite his best efforts. He asked Miss Cecelia Ardley about her home and her interests, thinking to set her at her ease, but only learned that she enjoyed embroidery and watercolours—as most young ladies professed to—and that the countryside around their home was very pleasant. And no, she didn’t enjoy riding; horses were so… big. However, that was more conversation than he’d managed the previous evening at dinner. When Lady Ardley took pity on her daughter and drew her away, her place was taken by Miss Farrell. That experience was just the opposite; she was all too happy to describe her home, her gowns, her much-admired singing and painting. She even asked him about his interests and made a good attempt at appearing fascinated by his answers, although she couldn’t quite hide the somewhat vacant expression that said she was no longer listening. Perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed, or minded so much, if he didn’t have Miss Ardley as a contrast. With relief, he escaped to the billiards room until it was time to dress for dinner.
That evening’s meal went better than the first, from his point of view. Miss Neston was seated next to him once again, but without Arthur on her other side she had more to say to him. Mother had abandoned her usually strict rule about not talking across the table, and the discussion turned to passing the time until the snow melted.
“You must have planned for some bad weather, Lady Paynton,” Lady Neston said, her tone coming very close to criticism.
“Indeed, but I intended to take you to visit Lord Challan, who has a magnificent orangery and loves to show it, and a trip to Amersham. I had not anticipated being confined to the estate.”
“The weather is set to be sunny, though, is it not?” Miss Neston said, with a sideways glance at her mother. “So some outdoor activity should be possible. ”
“So Foster says,” Mother replied, with a grateful nod at Miss Neston.
“We could skate on the lake,” Miss Farrell suggested. “It must be safe enough.”
“I’m afraid not,” Ben said. “The surface would have to be swept clear, and the snow is likely to be frozen to the ice by now. It would be difficult to make the surface sufficiently smooth. However, the terrace could be cleared.” He looked around the table. “Does anyone enjoy archery?”
“We cannot stand around in the cold, Ben,” Mother said doubtfully.
“That’s the advantage of doing it on the terrace,” he said. “Only the person shooting needs to be outside. If we have the targets set up suitably, everyone else can watch from indoors.” And if that went well, he had an idea for the following day.
The discussion after that was quite animated; it seemed he hadn’t been the only one not looking forward to several more days cooped up indoors with the same few people. When the ladies retired to the parlour, they were busy discussing the best way to play croquet in the ballroom.