Mary Balogh - A gift of daisies

This was not quite such a moment, but it was very welcome, nonetheless, the unexpected interval of quiet peace. The little stream bubbling over the uneven ground was the item that finally took her mind completely away from the garden party and her dreadful infatuation for a man who should be no concern of hers whatsoever.

Two minutes after spotting the stream, Rachel was sitting beside it, her hat discarded on the ground at her side, her dress pulled safely up to her knees, so that it would not get wet, and her slippered feet resting on a large rounded stone over and around which the icy-cold stream gurgled its way to the river below. Her weight was braced on her hands behind her. She was humming a tune and watching her tapping toes.

***

David had indeed been detained on the upper lawn. He had deliberately stayed with his godmother for a while, taking her arm, leading her to a chair in the shade, and scolding her for putting herself to the trouble of arranging such an entertainment for him.

"Nonsense!" she said. "You know you are the son I never had. Or the grandson, rather. It is no compliment, is it, Davy lad, to be told that you might have been my son? Now, to business. You are to come to live with me immediately, my boy, and we will find genteel employment for you."

David smiled down at her. "I told you when I called on you, Godmama," he said, "that my cousin has given me the living of Singleton. I am most fortunate. And I shall be starting my work there at the beginning of summer."

"That is nonsense, of course," she said. "You would die of boredom in such a life within a month, Davy. I have been thinking about the matter, and I have decided to bring you to the attention of my friend Bishop Haines. He will find something more suitable for you here."

It took David many minutes of patient talk to persuade his godmother that indeed he had no wish for the appointment that she was convinced she could make possible for him. She seemed still not to believe at the end of their conversation that he really wished to begin his work in a country parish, longed to make a start, in fact.

"You are a proud and stubborn boy, Davy," she said at last, laying a gnarled hand on his arm. "You always were, I remember. I had forgotten that. But enough. This is a party. Let me introduce you to some people who might be useful to you when you do decide to settle in town."

And David had to be content to leave her unconvinced. And he was forced to spend another half-hour conversing with the people who she deemed would be useful to him. At the end of that time his face was stiff from smiling and he felt weary from the unaccustomed social activity. He longed to see a familiar face. Where was Algie? he wondered. But even greater than the desire to see someone he knew was the need for peace and quiet.

There was a thicket running down the eastern side of the grounds, and if he remembered correctly, there was a small stream trickling through it down to the river. He could imagine no more pleasant diversion at the moment than to go and find it. If only no other guests had decided to stroll that way! He slipped among the trees when he thought no one was observing him, feeling only a slight pang of guilt. No one would miss him for half an hour.

David almost did not disturb Rachel. He recognized her instantly despite her dishabille and despite the fact that she was more than half turned away from him. He had no wish to exchange any more bright social chatter with anyone for a while that afternoon. Certainly not with this particular beautiful little widgeon. But something held him to the spot when his mind told him to turn and make his escape before she spotted him.

She looked so amazingly out of character. He had seen her always as a creature of society. He would not have expected the girl to have an original thought in her head. She should be out on the lawn, taking dainty bites out of a sandwich, flirting discreetly with Stanford and every gentleman who glanced her way, not sitting hatless on the grass beside the stream. And with her dress above her knees, displaying very shapely legs. And toes tapping in time to the tune she hummed.

And it was the tune that intrigued him most. "A mighty fortress is our God," she hummed. "Da da da da da dum de da da." And after the flourish of the second line she resumed the humming. A hymn tune. Martin Luther, no less. Most out of character, he would guess.

Amusement finally got the better of discretion. "Da da da da dum de dum de da da," he finished with her, and grinned as she turned sharply in his direction. "Are you not afraid of getting your slippers wet, Lady Rachel?"

"Oh," she said, "you did startle me. I had quite forgotten where I was. No, I am afraid I have not spared a thought to my slippers. They are quite dry, though." She blushed hotly and edged her dress over her knees and down her legs, hoping that their bareness had not been too noticeable from where he stood.

Rachel felt immediate guilt. It seemed that she was not to win that victory over temptation after all. But, she thought determinedly, she was going to behave herself. She was not going to use her charms on Mr. Gower or chatter brightly in order to entrance him. She was going to be her own more sensible self and there would be no danger whatsoever that he would succumb to the general male tendency to worship her.

Almost against his will David crossed the space that lay between them and looked down at the bubbling stream. "I knew this was here," he said. "I came in search of a moment's peace. Did you?"

"No," she admitted, "but I recognized it immediately when I found it. I like being alone. Just thinking and enjoying nature. Sometimes one tires of having to be gay all the time."

He looked down at her in some surprise. "It is the smiling that tires me," he confided. "One becomes afraid that the expression will become habitual and one will be doomed to go around for the rest of one's life grinning like an idiot."

Rachel laughed. "But you are always smiling anyway," she said.

He grimaced to give the lie to her words. "You mean it has happened already?" he asked in mock horror.

"Oh, no." Rachel laughed again, in delight. "I did not mean a social smile." She regarded him for a moment, her head to one side, "It comes from inside, I think. Even when your face is in repose, as it is now, there is a smile behind your eyes. And on your lips. I cannot explain exactly."

He stooped down on his haunches beside her. "You terrify me," he said with a more open smile. "Can you read my mind too?"

"No," she said, embarrassed suddenly. "But I think you are a happy man. Are you?"

He did not answer for a moment. He looked at her with close scrutiny. "Yes, I am," he said quietly. "Strange. My godmother has just been telling me how unhappy I must be to be going to a parish in the country. Perhaps she has not looked as deeply into my eyes as you have."

He wished he could have recalled that last sentence even as it came from his mouth. He had not meant it to sound the way it did. It sounded flirtatious and provocative. And she obviously thought so too. She blushed deeply.

And their eyes became locked. Neither seemed capable of looking away.

"How could she not?" Rachel said after a tense pause. "They are beautiful and compelling eyes." And it was her turn to hear with dismay the words she had spoken.

The little thicket suddenly seemed very quiet and very secluded, and the distance between them uncomfortably close. David swallowed noticeably and got hurriedly to his feet.

"This party is in my honor," he said. "I must not disappoint my godmother by staying away any longer."

Rachel scrambled to her feet beside him and caught at his sleeve. "Please," she said in a rush, "I did not mean anything by what I said. I believe you do not approve of me. I have sensed it ever since we met, and I regret it. You think me silly, do you not? And forward. And you are quite right. I am very often both when I am with other people. But I did not mean anything just now. I was not really flirting with you."