A Merry, Merry Morning

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

{Tag: Felicity Cadwallader & Nicholas Goulding}

It was a glorious thing to welcome a fresh acquaintance to the neighborhood, and it seemed that Hertfordshire was not to go without her fair share of new inhabitants, even if they were only to arrive so late in the Summer. Of course, while general excitement had overcome many, owing to the letting of Netherfield Park, it was an excitement of a more particular nature that had captivated Mr James Delaford. For it was the arrival of this new face that would be the final nail in the coffin of his dear friend’s good humour and he could finally declare him to be ‘the iciest character in Hertfordshire’ without fear of denial.

He would no doubt still receive it, of course, but he now no longer had to give care that Mr Goulding’s protestations might be arguable.

James smiled gaily at the thought as he approached Haye Park and wondered if he had better wait to have his tea before he commented on the alteration in circumstance. It should be an awful pity to have to return to Hadleigh having had not a drop to quench his thirst on account of his being unceremoniously dismissed. Charlotte would, no doubt, be scandalized in that instance, – though caught delightfully between amusement at her brother’s misfortune and her continuing willful, and entirely practiced displeasure at anything Mr Goulding saw fit to do – it would be a delight to see the conflict contort her pretty features.

Almost so delightful as watching her reaction to having him describe her face in such terms.

It would have done well that she should be here, but Mama had gone about paying calls today and Charlotte could not be spared. He made his way alone then, certain that – in light of the description attached to this new acquaintance – a meeting with his sister must follow. For Mr Goulding was about to become guardian to a vibrant, young cousin and, while James could not be sure of Charlotte approving of the girl on her own merits, he was certain that his sister would approve of her on account of the manner in which her very presence must vex Mr Goulding. Despite all that divided them on some accounts, Mr Delaford and his sister were remarkably of a kind.

That said, he had prepared in every way to make himself agreeable to the young woman – who must be at some difficulty being removed from all she had previously known and having to throw her lot in with Goulding – and he was eager to make her acquaintance. Thus, it was in high spirits that he asked to be presented and mirth could be easily discerned about him, his walking stick in hand and his hat gone as soon as it was polite that he should remove it. He bowed low upon entering the drawing room.

“Good morning, Mr Goulding,” he almost never called Goulding by his full name, but on special occasion, the forms were to be observed, “I trust the merriment of today finds you in as perfect a mood as it does myself.”

[Mr Nicholas Goulding]

Mornings, Nicholas had learned from an early age, were only ‘good’ for doing business upon. It was always more beneficial to catch those one must transact with unawares, and he had found within his own experience that the early bird did indeed catch the worm. Thus he had always been an early riser, and very much settled in the comforting familiarity of his daily routines. He always took a walk before breakfast down to the road and back, before coming in to eat. Then he would settle affairs with Mr. Russell, his steward, and then see to whatever business he had that would keep him entertained until luncheon. But this morning had been different. Just as the morning before it had been, and the morning before that.

There was now a lady about the house. And she could not have made herself more obvious if she had tried.

He had been woken up that first day at what seemed some time during the night only to hear a soft, girlish voice drifting to him through the darkness. At first he had thought himself to be having some kind of deranged nightmare; perhaps he had not gotten enough sleep the night before. But he soon remembered the queerness of his new situation, and the more he tried not to listen the more the voice sounded as though it belonged to Miss Cadwallader. Why should she be singing in the middle of the night, pray? If she could not sleep, should she not read quietly or simply lay awake and consider her own inadequacies like any moral, decent person would?

If it had not been for the rooster crowing a short time thereafter, heralding that the sun was not far off showing its face to the world, Nicholas would have thought her quite mad. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain that he didn’t. By the time he had risen and dressed and prepared himself to take his walk he had discovered that Miss Cadwallader had already left the house for a walk of her own! It was indecent, and overall he was outraged that she had taken such a liberty when they were barely acquainted and she knew nothing of the neighbourhood into which she had come. There could have been roving gypsies about (and were roving gypsies about, for all her knew!) ready and willing to take advantage of a young woman alone. It was unheard of, and he had made a point to bring it up to her once she returned to the house much later in the morning.

She had seemed pleased with the scolding, and he really thought she believed it evidence of some kind of latent concern for her wellbeing on his part. He could tell they were going to have words, before long, and he might have even looked forward to it if he could convince himself that she would heed them.

When Delaford came upon him in his drawing room, Nicholas had been staring out of the window sullenly. She had not yet returned from this morning’s walk, and though odds were in favour of her requiring a cup of the disgustingly sugary tea she doted on before long, he could not help but think it was not healthy for her to prefer such solitude when she was a new lady come into the country. He looked over his shoulder as his friend was announced, remaining stubbornly by the window as the wheels in his mind began to tick over. James Delaford was of that same, idiotically happy disposition as his cousin. Perhaps he would be able to make sense of her strangeness and form an interpretive connection, for Nicholas was entirely at odds as to what to do with the girl.

“Come to gloat, have you?” he fired back, all pretence at pleasantries abandoned in the face of their continued alliance against the world at large. Nicholas had always rather thought Delaford somewhat jealous of the easy solitude with which he ebbed out his existence, and now that liberty was threatened there was bound to be teasing in obsequiously large quantities. He turned his shoulders more fully, regarding his visitor properly as tea was rustled up. His green eyes looked his friend square in the face, his mouth set in that indeterminable line that could not be decipher yet did not bode well.

“Singing,” was all he said, closing his eyes slowly after he said the word so that he could turn back to the window without witnessing the amusement his friend was bound to express at his expense.

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

“Oh come now,” James chastened, coming up with a smile and as much gloating as could satisfy his friend, “I am sure she is a charm and a delight!” She probably was, poor girl, it was not to be counted against her character that Goulding was dissatisfied with her presence. To the contrary, it seemed the mark of any true human being to elicit that response. He fixed the predictable curmudgeon with a challenge to admit that his new guest must be – at least in some small part of him – a welcome change. He was offered instead a truly depressed return, so singularly appropriate for a funeral dirge that James almost wondered if he had quite mistaken the nature of the news.

In truth, it was not the other gentleman that ought to be complaining of the circumstance. In any instance that one is rendered a ward, there must travel before it the most abominable pain. Losing one’s parents was a horrifying business, unbearable for the babe who must awaken one morning to discover that she is without them, worse still for a young woman of Miss Cadwallader’s age, who must have had the time to grow up under her mother’s tutelage and her father’s pride, only to have them too early taken from her. On hearing the tale, James’s thoughts had turned instantly to his own parents, which had summoned the stern but compassionate protection of his mother and the gentle ease of his father. This had travelled all too naturally on to the contemplation of what must then fall to him in their absence and he had remained under the cloud of that thought until Imogen had asked if he was to leave high dudgeon for their outing to the Orchard.

In this regard, singing was rather a blessing.

Thus, Goulding’s charge was in a fixed perspective for James. Of course, he was also aware that change was something he knew his friend did not take to with much ease. He began with what was nearest to them both. Singing to his family had always been a rather pleasant experience, so it was little surprise that it had caused such grief at Haye Park. James allowed his face to show proper concern, “Oh, my dear man, I had no idea.” He approached with somber purpose, “That she should be singing! I dare say you ought to send her back at once…” he placed a hand on Goulding’s shoulder, his hat now held across his chest as was customary of condolences. The shine never left his eye, the illustration of his thoughts on such abominable complaining. There was no doubt that Charlotte would have found something curt to add to the admonition, but James was not here to lecture in the manner to which his sister seemed so accustomed, but rather to help along in his own way what would undoubtedly be very good for his friend.

[Mr Nicholas Goulding]

Delaford’s assurances did not go far with the likes of him. The sidelong glance he spared his friend in response was flat, his mouth set in a line of disapproval so ingrained on his features that would have looked out of place had it not been present. Truth be told, it was not the singing itself which vexed him so, rather what it represented. A man of his pride would also not admit -- not even to his closest friend -- that had not the foggiest idea of what it represented at all! The girl was entirely new to this place, and had recently lost both of her parents in a tragedy that would make a mess of far better people. How was it, then, that she took to singing and squirrelling herself about the countryside as though she had not a care in the world?

It offended him to his core. His life had changed irrevocably (and not entirely for the better) from the moment the carriage had brought her to the doorstep. He had not wanted this -- he was not entirely sure he wanted it even now that she was here -- and her apparent lack of concern unnerved him. For as long as he could remember he had only to please himself, and he knew no better how to care for a young lady than he did how to care for a dog or an extremely resilient and low-maintenance house plant. He allowed himself to remain staring out of the window until he felt Delaford move to stand beside him, diverted by the hand on his shoulder. He looked across at his old friend, and upon hearing the faux condolences offered, simply let out an explosive breath of sheer frustration.

“It is not simply the singing, Delaford! She writes -- her implements are strewn carelessly all over my desk -- and I know not whom she is corresponding with! When I ask her, she simply says ‘Friends!’,” the last word delivered in a high-pitched attempt at sounding girlish. “What friends, I ask you? She ought to be making friends here, in Meryton!” Such an outburst was a rarity indeed for Nicholas, unless he was very much affected by something. He would never have dared be so honest if Miss Delaford were in attendance, and it was a very good thing that Delaford had come on his own because he wasn’t so certain that he wished for Miss Cadwallader to befriend her at any rate. His eyes flashed, then, and it was as though he was remembering that he was only half-way into his tirade.

“And walking! She is up before sunrise and out of the door, though where she is disappearing to is anyone’s guess! She is still yet to return from this morning’s escapade. What is to be done about it, pray? The girl is wholly wild, and there is no care to be taken for a creature who does not care for itself!”

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

Charlotte would have been impressed at the response which followed her brother’s act – a mere prodding, she would have said, though James had not the intent to which she would have mounted – for whatever expectations James had held this morning for Goulding’s feelings on this matter, he was quite surpassed. His hand retracted immediately at the first sign of disquiet and his brow proceeded downward for a fraction of a second. There was a pause as Goulding seemed to regain himself for a moment and James dared not move before he was quite sure. Certainly enough, the rant – for that is all James could think to title it – continued, before a smile, quite ridiculous amongst his friend’s concerns, spread serenely across Mr Delaford’s face.

“That, my dear man, is women, and fantastic creatures they are, whatever you may have to say about it,” he turned, placing his hat on the card table and reclining at his own invitation on a settee that showed the front garden to its best advantage and allowed the warmth of the sun to fall across his face. He crossed his boots at the ankles and placed his hands casually in his lap, “When she has fallen afoul of some idle gossip, or twisted her ankle in order to bring home some rakish fellow, then you may come to me with such concerns.”

The reason for his smile was plain; whatever his earlier amusement at his friend’s potential discontent, it was nothing on James’s delight at the current flow that bubbled out of his mouth. While one sensation had been prompted by a genuine love for Goulding’s eccentricities, the other was entirely constructed on the knowledge that below them rested a gentleman of an altogether different nature. For while the guardian of Miss Felicity Cadwallader now railed at her antics, James could undoubtedly tell that it was because he cared about her wellbeing, whether he understood that or not.

And that, however long the journey would be for them as a new family, was a start.

Of course, he would not put it on such terms for his friend - afraid he might startle the horses -, but placed it instead on a footing of nonchalance that might appeal to the man’s other characteristics. “Or do you mean to tell me that it is your general stance that a girl who writes and takes a walk is a vagabond beyond redemption? Because if that were the case, my friend, I should no longer wonder at your hermitic ways. Perhaps I may finally tell Miss Delaford that I have her answer.”

He looked up at his friend from beneath his brows, all but waggling them at him.

[Mr Nicholas Goulding]

Nicholas was not a deaf man. He could hear himself, railing as though he was a mother hen who had lost one of her chicks and didn’t know where to find them. It was both embarrassing and perplexing, that he should not only find himself in the unfortunate position of being required to care for someone but that he had also brought it about quite of his own damned volition! His scowl had, by this point, deepened to such an expression as was not like to be ever replicated; even the infamously surly Nicholas Goulding could not aim at being that dour twice in one lifetime. After he had done he fell silent, for there was nothing else to be said and there was nothing said already which he could bear apologising for.

He did not turn away from the window to mark his friend’s sage advice, but he did not need to see with his own eyes the smile he could hear in Delaford’s voice. Nicholas supposed that for a man who had been surrounded by women since his birth and unhappily ever after, keeling to their every sentimental whim seemed like the natural course of action for every thing. Having lost his mother young he did not know what it was to have to be understanding of the gentleness required when dealing with women -- perhaps, even, women who pretended not to need that understanding at all -- and as such he was not to recommend himself as a man capable of any sort of generosity of spirit where the fairer sex were concerned.

He had no desire to hear about idle gossip or twisting ankles or rakish fellows, and if his frown could have become any more pronounced then Delaford might have well suspected him on his way to actually morphing into a dragon. Of all the things that he had considered prior to agreeing to take the girl on, the most serious troubles that could come along with her had already been thought of from every angle, and then some. He was not the sort of fellow to give his word idly; if he was, then perhaps he would not have cared so very much that anything could be happening to her while she was out gallivanting the countryside like a sodding gypsy. Because he had given his solemn vow to stand up for her as he kin, he could not allow that promise to go kept in a half-hearted fashion.

Something must be done.

Turmoil clouded Nick’s usually clear green gaze. He was a decisive man used to knowing the state of things, and having the apple cart so utterly upset was bound to put him out of sorts. He refused to look back at Delaford, because his friend would only see evidence of how he was affected. The gardens of his family seat sprawled out around the house as it hunched in the middle of the estate, and no matter where those eyes of his looked there was no sign to be had of his errant ward. Finally, he could stand it no longer and decided that it was time to take drastic action. He spun with all of the decisiveness he usually felt but today could hardly muster, only stopping when he saw the languorous position Delaford had adopted on the settee.

Nick blinked. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing, man? This is not time to be laid out like cold ham and salad! Fetch your things--” he advised, as he strode for the door to collect his own on the way out of the house. “If she will not come in, then we shall go out. She can’t have gotten too far, after all.”

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

Still Goulding’s fears were not quieted and, though James had expected it to be otherwise - predicting his usually immediate want to argue and challenge anything that was said about his person and especially in relation to Miss Delaford -, he rose above himself in a brand new way and chastised James for his nonchalance! Mr Delaford immediately sat forward in his chair, at once feeling the pull of all that was expected of him and felt almost moved to guilt that he was not extremely concerned over Miss Cadwallader’s absence from the house. Had he been of a regimental inclination, he might very well have snapped to attention, standing in place as a rigid board in response to his friend’s undoubtedly commanding presence.

It was the suddenness of Goulding’s eruption that prompted him, the cooler and calmer demeanor of a moment before coming in just too late to completely undermine the instinct to panic that was so rife about the room this particular morning. After a moment, he was inclined to remember that were he to respond so valiantly every time Charlotte was not about the house, the regiment that was supposed to be stationed in Meryton might very well have found new footing at Hadleigh.

On that account, he was soon ready to temper the Guardian’s appraisal of the situation, but equally compelled by the underlying sense of responsibility that had been laid at his feet. He could not very well and in good conscience do nothing. Thus, he did stand and follow the flurry of Goulding from the room, collecting his hat and speaking after his friend with the same steady frame that juxtaposed itself against the rush of care unburdening itself.

“Certainly we can, though were she to unexpectedly return whilst we were-“ he did not finish, because Goulding was beyond the door and James was certain that much like another within his intimate circle, Mr Goulding was prone to doing exactly as he decided as soon as he decided to do it. As they reached out into the morning sunlight, from which James had only just been removed, he simply returned to his standard timbre of teasing truth, appeased by their action into the situation enough to know full well that it should resolve quickly and harmlessly, “Oh, I’ll be so glad of a walk. Idleness is such a fiend when one has been lazing about for a full five minutes.”

Even as he teased his friend, he looked out over the grounds, a cautious frown wondering if that small tree bore next to it a slighter figure, or if that little copse might be dangerous enough to risk a delicate frame.

[Miss Felicity Cadwallader]

Dramatic irony, that wonderful device of sadistic writers everywhere, would rear its nasty head at that exact moment. For no sooner were Mr. Goulding and his esteemed friend to vacate the house, than Miss Cadwallader was to approach it. She saw her cousin step away from the frontage looking every inch a man bent to a purpose, thinking him at first to be alone as usual. She was surprised, then, to see another man following closely behind. When she had thought it was simply Nicholas scowling to himself as he took his morning walk, she had been unaffected. But now that there was someone new to inspect, Felicity owned to being almost unbearably curious. In a heartbeat she had thrown down the small basket of gooseberries she had picked from an obliging bush on the fringes of the woods. Her skirt taken in hand, she moved after the two gentlemen as stealthily as she could manage it.

But it was to prove a difficult thing. Both of the men she chased were quite tall, and their strides much longer than any she could manage. She had to take to an odd, loping sort of canter in order to keep up with them -- giving herself over to short bursts of desperate scurrying -- so that she could take cover close enough to overhear their conversation. It was not that she wished to encroach on her cousin’s intimacy, one must understand. But as he seemed determined that she should not meet anyone in Meryton, it seemed appropriate that she deflect to guerrilla offense tactics in making whatever new acquaintances she could attempt to take hostage. She fixed her sights firmly on a lilac bush which was only just shy of the pair now walking off in the direction of the lane, and gave it her all in order to make it to the safety of its shade unseen. Once there, she could spy at will.

And spy she did. Her cousin, whom she had been amusing herself attempting to make out these last few days, now held nothing of interest to her when there was someone new to be observed. His open countenance seemed to offset Nicholas’ scowl in an almost comical fashion, the ease with which he walked beside her guardian so markedly opposite that she fancied that she immediately thought she should find him perfectly amiable, should bad Nicholas ever deign to introduce her to society at all. Felicity allowed herself to peek out from behind the bush as the men continued to walk, hearing the lightness of the stranger’s tone though she was too far from them now to make out the words.

Oh, but this would never do.

Feeling bolder in her desire for information, Felicity set out for another small shrub a little closer to the retreating pair of gentlemen. Spurning herself onwards she ran, recklessly, for the bush and only stopped behind it just in time to quietly attempt to recover her breath before she heard the stranger’s last comment to her cousin. She found that, to her horror, she very nearly almost laughed out loud and gave herself away. Savagely pressing her lips together to prevent the giggle from slipping, a very silly young girl continued to wait to hear what else her cousin might have to say in her aggrieved absence.

[Mr Nicholas Goulding]

“--the curse of the idle rich,” Nicholas was saying, in that usual manner he adopted when he wished to tease his friend in return. It was no secret between them that Delaford had the larger income, and it had never made one whit of difference to their friendship. It amused Goulding to make light of it, and so he did on a rather frequent basis. “You are all of you so enamoured of your shillings that you lack basic sense.” He smirked, showing that all the regularities of his person were not lost, no matter how he might fall to pieces over the plague that was his new ward. “You would sit about for five minutes now, and panic later. No doubt by this measure you would hope that it would all set itself to rights without your influence, and that there might be nothing for you to vex yourself over, in the end. But that will not do for men of business, dear fellow! Men of business must strike whilst the iron is hot, or else have the risks they have taken thrown back in their faces.”

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

If Mr Delaford had been aware of his power to summon such amiable and lively young ladies at the mere imagining of their arrival, he should have employed it long ago to his undoubted benefit. Of course, since it was a feat that any man need only achieve once in his lifetime – and considering the healthy sense of self-assurance that Charlotte so often attributed her brother – that he had missed his marvel was perhaps a benefit to all involved. At present, he was thoroughly involved in the light his friend was making of their differences, all the more amusing for their absolute lack of force between the two. James had always found a much richer reward in seeking to know a person, rather than simply seeking them out in Burke’s Peerage.

“Oh, I quite agree! It is common knowledge that the delay of one’s reactions is directly proportional to the size of one’s estate, or is that the size of one’s chaise longue?” he grinned, “I am certain also that men of business are intent on being vexed at every turn. In fact, I am not at all convinced that they do not as matter of course enjoy it.” He did not voice what followed on so naturally from his thoughts on this revelation, since to say so would be to upset what he saw as a quite natural proceeding.

Time alone would tell if he was correct.

But it would not be this time, since at that moment, there could be heard a strange sort of rustling – undoubtedly not the familiar movement of leaves in the wind – that piqued his hearing and unsettled the flow of conversation. Mr Delaford thought nothing of it, at first, brushing off the sound as a squirrel or ferret, perhaps, but as the gentlemen continued on there way, another feeling altogether descended upon him. It was not a sense that one might ascribe as any special talent to him, but one that came from years of training amongst sisters and governesses, moving about through an orchard to avoid the problem of sums and dreadfully dull history, followed by the sound of giggling and shushing that would give away a regiment.

It was odd, since he well knew that there was no one about, save he and his friend.

He was almost positive that Charlotte had grown beyond hiding behind bushes. Almost.

[Mr Nicholas Goulding]

Nicholas graced his friend with a small snicker of amusement, though he kept his head looking forward. “Life would be very dull indeed, for such men, if they turned a blind eye to all the injustices laid at their feet,” he replied blithely. It was another few strides before he remembered the reason they had embarked on this little expedition, and he did his best to return to the haughty man who had made it his business to find his errant ward.

“But that is not to say that others ought to give as much trouble as they can! Where in the blazes could she be Delaford? Do you think it very likely she could have walked toward town? Have the layabouts who have taken up by Farmer Lowe’s sty taken their leave of Hertfordshire, yet? I should not like to think that they might have waylaid her!” He quickened his pace slightly, driven on by this fresh horror proudly presented by his over-active imagination.

[Miss Felicity Cadwallader]

The outburst from her stoic cousin actually did extract a giggle from her, for though she was a silly girl by all accounts, she was rather astute in other ways. She had always had a fondness for the observation of human nature, and these past few days had made a study of her cousin. His gruff exterior was not to startle her into flight like a dove suddenly shunned; and she knew his outburst now was evidence of the fact that though he very much wished to seem as though he had taken her on because there was no alternative, he very much cared for her welfare. It was a heartening moment of clarity that spoke to her very core, for all the doubts she had harboured since her arrival (that she would be in his way, that he did not really want her and that it was a matter of time before he admitted such) could not compare to the unspoken knowledge that she was, in fact, welcome.

She pressed a gloved hand to her mouth to cover her error, but it had betrayed her to the breeze (who might very well betray her to others). She gasped soundlessly, eyes widened, as she waited a span of moments with her heart in her throat. When she did not hear a loud ‘Aha!’ thrown in her direction, the girl relaxed visibly. Her hand fluttered to press the buttons of her spencer out of habit, before she bit her bottom lip lightly in contemplation. After a small conference with her conscience, she promised herself that she would be more sensible in her eavesdropping and found that she was satisfied by such a declaration of fortitude. After a quick glance at the pair of men, she took off after them once again.

The more she heard from this unknown man walking with her cousin, the more she was disposed to approve of him (if there was ever any concern for her not liking someone immediately upon meeting them). Not only was he seemingly used to teasing Nicholas in the most amusing fashion, but Nicholas was apparently happy to allow such familiarity. They were great friends, then, she deduced, for her cousin seemed ill suited to joviality and that this young man was capable of drawing it out of him as one might draw blood from a stone spoke volumes about their connection. She allowed herself to stare, her blue eyes peering curiously through the shrubbery to the rather obstructed view she had of the gentleman. She felt herself blush as she owned to herself that he was quite handsome.

Somehow, that Nicholas ought to have an amiable, handsome friend was all the more unlikely!

Forced to abandon her consideration of the young man’s features in favour of staying close enough to hear what they were about (especially now that she knew they were likely to talk about her), Felicity took off for the next bush along the drive. And though she tried her hardest to be nimble, one of her feet twisted alarmingly so that for a moment she thought she might roll her ankle and she gasped in shock, just before she made it to the sanctuary of the bush itself. She was lucky in that she had not injured herself -- nothing would have upset her more than having to call out to them for assistance back to the house -- but she was unfortunate in that the ribbon from her dress had been caught on the breeze and was now very much entwined on a twig in plain sight.

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

Had James not been diverted by the inherent knowledge that something was not quite right in the circumstance, he might have scolded his friend for his harsh judgment of the men who had all too recently been without home or employment, despite the unsettling knowledge that a wariness when it came to the safety of a young lady alone must be at least a little valuable and indeed, potentially greatly so. As it was, however, there was something afoot – not to put to finer point on it – and it was rather daintily afoot until there was a scuffle, undeniable where the sound of giggling on the breeze could not be exactly separated from the memory James had recalled. Had he been less adept at the art of such games, he might very well have dismissed the sound once more, or rather have missed it altogether!

He turned slightly, twisting at the waist and looking over his shoulder very briefly, keeping his hands clasped about the cane he held behind his back as he maintained the stride of a gentleman who was not very cunningly forming a plan. He was grateful for Goulding’s ongoing conversation, for what he had spied would require at least some form of conjured pretence to properly route out. As he looked down, pretending to listen very carefully to his friend’s words – a circumstance at which Nicholas Goulding must by now be very practiced, considering the amount of time he spent amongst the Delaford name – he smiled at the pebbles in front of his shoe.

“Oh no,” he said a little more loudly than he had been speaking previously, “I should not worry too much. Such men are unlikely to waylay a girl who has her wits about her and, given that Miss Cadwallader has thus far avoided your detection, I daresay she is well placed to escape their notice.” His comment served the dual purpose of welcome to the young girl – whom he had undoubtedly identified by the presence of ribbons in the bushes and a lifetime of living with Charlotte and Imogen – with a compliment of sorts and of continued antagonism to his dear friend; and on that train he continued, preparing to go yet further as he looked up, his blue eyes casting themselves serenely over the Park.

“What I should worry about,” he began carefully, suddenly examining a bush off the side of the pathway on which they walked, “is rodents.”

Before Goulding could query the sudden change of track – though he often suspected that his friend already thought him quite mad - he continued with a tone so serious, even Nicholas might have been tempted to believe it. “Yes, they’ve been diving in and out of your plants all the while we’ve been talking. Though, it takes an expert to notice them,” he lectured, holding his cane in a gloved hand and gently tapping its forefinger to his nose. He turned suddenly on his heel, the gravel beneath it crunching as their search for the wayward ward came to a halt.

“Do you see this lavender shrub here?” he gestured, “quite riddled, I assure you. The only thing for it is to pull it right out of the ground, for it will only infest the others. Now that you have a lady about the Park, you would not want her to be pounced upon, now would you?”

If that alone did not prompt Miss Cadwallader to retreat from her position, undoubtedly his next would.

“Of course, you could always administer a sound beating. I know mice are terrified of a good beating,” he walked over to the very bush that housed their young stowaway and lifted his cane, “here, allow me to me demonstrate –“

[Miss Felicity Cadwallader]

Felicity was trying so hard to suppress her amusement that her cousin’s friends next statement about her wits was very nearly her undoing. She felt quite warm from the effort of remaining silent, and would likely be rather flushed upon her imminent discovery. She once again pressed her fingers to her lips to assist her in keeping hidden, and she leaned back slightly against the lavender bush, no care taken for any errant leaves that might become entangled in her already unruly curls. She was so excessively diverted that she really almost missed the gentleman’s last entirely, and had it not been for the timely comment of her cousin, she might not have been sensible to it at all.

“Rodents!?” cried Goulding incredulously ( thinking his friend had at last been driven mad by his sister), though he was silenced the next moment as Delaford continued.

Rodents!? echoed Flick within the confines of her girlish mind, and neither tone nor thought were to be restrained then. All she could think about were dirty great big rats crawling up her hem, and she nearly panicked at the thought of it. She felt almost paralysed to the spot, for she had seen rats in Bath when the carriage had been passing through the less aesthetic parts of the city, and she was horrified at the thought of them being here in Hertfordshire! When there was mention made of them being in the bushes she jumped away from the shrub at once, her eyes wide with horror. Had they been following her! Good heavens!

Unbeknownst to her, her cousin’s shrewd gaze had narrowed with understanding once his friend had let him in on the joke. Any satisfaction at having found his ward was quickly overcome with anger that she had been so unpolitely eavesdropping; had she meant to follow them for hours around the estate while they had looked for her? As Delaford prattled on, warming to his subject and no mistake, Nicholas almost moved to yank her out from behind the bush and give her a very stern talking to. She was spared from that indignity, however, by being imposed upon in another way.

Pull it out? she was thinking to herself in horror. But the lavender bushes were so pretty, lining the drive as they did! She was sure she should not like Haye Park so well as she did, were there no lavender bushes! But she was certain that she should not like awful rodents scurrying about the Park and attacking her every morning upon her walk, either! And then the very next moment there was talk of beating the bush, and that would not do either for she should find it very difficult to explain away the bruises that would undoubtedly ensue! She rushed to move away from the bush, only to find the she was helplessly tangled by virtue of the ribbons on her dress.

Fiddlesticks!

“Wait, wait!” she cried desperately, pulling at her dress in such a ferocious way that she was likely to tear it. She didn’t realise that the back of her dress was snagged on the bush, however. For all she knew, a rat was gnawing hungrily on her hem! “I think one’s got me – oh! Quick, help! Don’t let it bite me!”

Her cousin's smirk, as he stood back, was resounding.

[MR JAMES DELAFORD]

Had Miss Cadwallader been Charlotte, or even young Imogen, James might well have allowed himself to laugh without guilt at her sudden predicament - in fact he was rather known for bringing such exclamations from the mouths of his sisters frequently when they were children - but she was not and he could not help but feel an instant pang of remorse at her distress. That Nicholas smirked at his ploy did not act as its usual enticement to the folly and James, in hearing the sudden desperation in the young woman's cries, resolved at once to rectify the situation.

"Peace, Miss Cadwallader! It was simple jest, I assure you!" he quickly lowered his cane and stretched out a hand to quiet her, finally laying eyes on his new acquaintance and halting in his speech in favour of a bright smile. He could not at all understand what Goulding could be complaining about, she seemed as delightful as he had expected her to be! The bounce in her curls was charming and no doubt heightened by he liberal infusion of green in them. As a gentleman who had been about blonde curls all his life, he was an authority on the matter. That was to say nothing of the colour that had arisen in her cheeks - his final statement was given with slight distraction - "There are no rodents to be found here."

He remembered himself at that point, turning his calming hand to a helpful purpose and offering to help her stand, it might be a somewhat delicate process he perceived, since her scuffle had begun in earnest. "Though there are ribbons, I see! Here, allow me."

At that, he took pains not to impress himself too much on her person as he strove to liberate her from the lavender. He laughed after a moment, almost ready to commend a fine effort when she did not come immediately free. The bush was tenacious - he might suggest it as a friend to Charlotte, for then the pair could pit their stubbornness against the other when sparring partners were not to be found. He offered Miss Cadwallader a little conversation to help smooth the transition.

"You must forgive me a little merriment, when I am visiting with your guardian it is necessary to counteract the lingering gloom," he offered a sideways smirk to Nicholas, a trademark his sisters had inherited, almost as though to say he had not forgotten him.