Page 29 of The Wordsworth Key (Regency Secrets #3)
Chapter Sixteen
Loughrigg Tarn
T hey arrived home late to find Arthur and Ruby comfortably ensconced in Jacob’s library.
They had made themselves at home and looked like a comfortable married couple putting their feet up after a busy day.
The guests had lit a fire even though it was summer and Ruby was reading to the viscount while he lay, head back on Jacob’s favourite armchair, resting for what, from his air of exhaustion, might be the first time in weeks.
Jacob felt a twinge of guilt. Were there a few extra grey hairs down to him sprouting at his brother’s temples?
Angry at being excluded from the final hours, Jacob had given little thought to– indeed, hadn’t wanted to imagine– how difficult the transition had been for his oldest brother: the weight of expectations of his peers; the scrutiny of his tenants and dependants; the historic responsibilities.
Arthur’s desire to meddle in Jacob’s life might be the way he felt he could exercise a modicum of control over a process which he couldn’t stop.
He was now Sandys and the future of the name rested with him.
Younger brothers were largely allowed to go their own way and enjoy the advantages of being one of the spares in the succession.
Jacob wasn’t going to surrender the one benefit that came to him in the unequal laws of primogenitor, but he could sympathise that his brother’s burden was heavy.
‘All well with you both?’ asked Jacob in a low voice, not wanting to jar the mood.
‘Yes, thank you, Dr Sandys,’ said Ruby. ‘We’re enjoying Gray’s Elegy .’
‘ Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife ’, quoted Dora, taking a seat next to Ruby on the sofa. ‘A very peaceful subject.’
‘And wise: The paths of glory lead but to the grave ’, added Jacob. ‘What every soldier with any sense learns. Better to stick to a country life than find yourself shot to pieces by Napoleon’s armies.’
Arthur opened his eyes. ‘Come now, Jacob, I know you don’t believe that. A country must defend itself, and it is man’s part to take up arms.’
‘True, but not because he expects glory. He should do it because it’s a righteous cause.’
‘The difficulty is knowing if the cause is righteous or not,’ murmured Dora.
The nuances of this debate had sailed over Ruby’s head.
‘You’ve missed the best part in the poem.
’ She changed to her stage voice, letting the line sob with emotion.
‘ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen , And waste its sweetness on the desert air . That’s the real tragedy– the waste of so much talent that deserves to be noticed. ’
Arthur sat forward and lifted her hand from the cover of the book. He kissed it. ‘You are not destined to be unseen, Miss Plum, never you fear. Talent and gentle manners will take you a long way.’
His brother, the gallant. Jacob was amused to see a side of his brother he rarely witnessed.
However, he had his own lady to tend. He went to the dining room next door, hoping to rustle up some dinner for Dora and himself.
As had happened the night before, Arthur had ordered provisions to be fetched.
Ruby fairly sparkled under such flattery. ‘My lord, you are too kind.’
‘Not at all.’ A little embarrassed to be caught in his gallantry, Arthur cleared his throat, got up and paced the library, stretching to drive out the kinks in his neck from having sat so long. ‘Speaking of blushing flowers, I’ve arranged a party for us tomorrow.’
‘I’m not following you,’ called Jacob as he put together a plate from the remnants of the meal on the sideboard. He recognised the cold meats and cheeses from the local inn. The cheddar was particularly fine, so he cut a generous slice for Dora and added some pickle.
‘Lord Furness and the Lady Alice. I’ve invited them to come riding. I thought we could go up Hardknott Pass and visit the Roman ruins. You’re an antiquarian; you like that kind of thing.’
What was his brother up to? He carried the plate back to the library. ‘Arthur, you do realise Dora and I are working?’
‘Nonsense. You’ve lost your client and you’re supposed to be on holiday. Miss Fitz-Pennington would adore a Roman encampment, wouldn’t you?’
‘Dora, you don’t have—’ Jacob began, handing her the plate.
‘It’s no matter, Jacob,’ she interrupted him. ‘I’m very interested in the history of this region.’
‘You are?’
‘Who wouldn’t be? Might I add a few others of our acquaintance to the party, my lord?’
‘I’m not coming,’ grumbled Ruby.
‘Ladies in an interesting condition require rest,’ said Arthur reprovingly, showing he was well aware of Ruby’s growing baby bump and was not scandalised, a point in his favour.
However, he made it sound as though Dora would be heartless enough to drag her friend up a mountain for her own amusement.
Dora did not rise to the bait.
‘Naturally not, but we’ve other friends who would relish the outing.’ Dora made herself a sandwich from the cheese and ham.
‘Who?’ asked Arthur suspiciously.
‘The gentlemen who helped search for Mr Barton. You met them yesterday. I’m convinced it would do their spirits good to have an excursion out of the valley. They are all very gentlemanly, fit company for a lord and his daughter.’
Oh, his clever Dora! Langhorne pined for Lady Alice. It would put a spoke in his brother’s wheel to have a rival for her hand along for the outing. Yet Arthur was likely to be contrary anything Dora suggested. Jacob knew the best way to get his brother to agree was to…
‘Dora, no!’ he protested. ‘I don’t want them anywhere near Lady Alice and Lord Furness, in fact I don’t want this excursion at all. We’re too busy.’
‘Come now, Jacob,’ said Arthur, swallowing the bait, ‘you would be doing these people a good turn, lightening their spirits at this difficult time. Indeed, Miss Fitz-Pennington, the thought does you credit. Do invite your friends. I’m pleased you will have people to accompany you as Jacob will be expected to escort the lady. ’
Dora smiled complacently. ‘Very good, my lord.’
* * *
As arranged by messenger, the party met at Skelwith Bridge, a convenient launch point for their assault upon the fort. Using the parapet as his table, Arthur got out his map like Wellington commanding his army.
‘Gather round, gentlemen. I want you all to know where we are going in case we get separated.’ Obediently Barton’s friends clustered around the viscount, Dora peeking over his shoulder in interest. ‘We’ll take the Wrynose Pass along the River Duddon to Cockley Beck.
Then we take the steep track up to Hardknott Pass– gentlemen, please assist Miss Fitz-Pennington should she find the journey too much for her. ’
Jacob raised a brow at Dora who rolled her eyes.
‘I’ve sent my servants on in advance to set up a picnic at the Roman fort, including a tent should the weather prove inclement. The ladies can shelter in that.’ Arthur folded the map and checked his pocket watch. ‘We wait only for Lord Furness and his daughter to arrive– and then we’ll be off.’
Jacob leaned against the parapet of the bridge, wondering how this outing would go.
It was surprising that Furness countenanced the idea of Dora being part of the party alongside his daughter, considering what a low opinion Arthur had of her and doubtless reported the same to his friend.
He suspected the two peers had agreed to hold their nose to the unpleasant odour of her lower-class presence in the interest of throwing Lady Alice in Jacob’s way again.
He hoped neither of them would offer Dora a social snub.
If they did hurt her feelings, he doubted he would be able to contain his temper.
He searched Dora out in the waiting crowd.
She was talking to Knotte while she checked her horse’s tack.
Hired hacks were never given the best accoutrements and they rarely fitted, but at least the side-saddle looked relatively new.
She looked up and smiled briefly at him.
He had to remind himself that his Dora was a tough lady and was less likely to take a bruise from insulting words than him.
She had agreed to the excursion fully prepared to use it for their advantage and his brother’s schemes did not discompose her.
An added benefit of Dora’s idea to invite Barton’s friends was it gave them another opportunity to observe their behaviour.
Langhorne was on tenterhooks, eagerly watching the road for the arrival of Lord Furness and his daughter.
He’d put on his best riding clothes, neckerchief neatly tied, none of the banditti casualness of the fishing party.
Captain Cooper was in uniform, boots polished to a mirror shine.
Perhaps he wished to attract favour from a powerful local man as military careers were often decided by who was willing to put your name forward for a promotion.
Moss was talking quietly to Lieutenant Crawford and Wright, none of the men pushing themselves forward for the notice of Viscount Sandys.
Luke Knotte had attached himself to Dora.
When Jacob moved within earshot, he found the young man was filling her ears with local tales of triumph and tragedy among the ordinary folk of these valleys.
He wondered if this was the raw material from which Knotte made his poetry: it would fit with the fashion started by Wordsworth if that were the case.
Two smartly dressed riders, one male, one female, approached from the direction of Ambleside.
‘I apologise for being tardy!’ called Lord Furness, waving his riding crop. ‘We stayed at Elleray and Wilson kept us up late last night.’
‘Not at all. Let me introduce our company. My brother you already know.’ The viscount ran through the other members, slipping Dora in between Crawford and Knotte.
‘Langhorne,’ said Furness, giving the man a nod in response to his bow. ‘I had not expected to see you here.’