Laurie Brown - What Would Jane Austen Do?

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, even though it was a lie. He was just the person she wanted to see. Although she knew which topic she wanted to discuss, she decided it would be better to open the conversation on a general note. “What are you reading?”

“Oh.” He bent over to retrieve the slim volume that had fallen to the ground and looked at it as if it had suddenly appeared in his hands. “I … ah … just picked up this copy of Sheridan’s School For Scandal to pass the time.”

Fortunately, her high school drama class had staged the classic play, so she was familiar with it. “Although the play lacks the cohesion of his earlier work The Rivals, I thought the auction scene quite clever.”

He appeared taken aback for a moment. “Ah yes, as an American you would be familiar with Sheridan, since he sided with the Colonials in Parliament. Quite surprisingly, he was never challenged to a duel, despite using his wit in defense of such controversial topics.”

She hadn’t known that about the playwright, but it gave her a perfect opening. “Speaking of duels …” Over his shoulder she noticed Teddy exiting the house with a man in working clothes. As the other man left, Teddy turned and obviously spied them. From the glower on his face, she wouldn’t have another chance to speak to Shermont alone.

She rushed to say her piece, while trying to ignore Teddy stomping in their direction.

“Lord Shermont, if your intentions toward Mina or Deirdre are anything less than honorable, I beg you to stay away and not lead either impressionable young girl astray.”

He reared back in what appeared to be genuine shock. “I have no interest in either girl, honorable or otherwise. Good heavens, madam, they’re mere children, barely out of the schoolroom. I am insulted.”

“But your reputation—”

“Despite what some may say, I assure you I am not in the habit of seducing virgins.”

“Surely you’re aware of their interest in you?”

He dismissed any anxiety with a casual flick of his hand. “A schoolgirl crush. They will recover soon enough without encouragement. I’m more concerned with what interests you. Lord Digby seems to have laid claim to you.”

“I’m not a piece of property. I’m a person,” she said. Knowing Teddy was within earshot, she continued, “I have no intention of anyone claiming me.”

“It appears I have arrived just in time to forestall an argument,” Teddy said with a pleased smile as he offered his arm to her. “Come, my dear cousin. My sisters await us.”

He obviously hadn’t realized her words were for his edification, too.

She laid her hand on his forearm. “No argument,” she said in a pleasant voice, “just stating a fact.”

“Please don’t tell me you have become one of those dreadful bluestockings?” Teddy asked as they strolled out of the garden and along a terrace. He gave a slight shudder.

“I’m rather in favor of the bluestockings,” Shermont said as he followed several paces behind. “An educated, literate female is a more interesting … companion.”

Somehow she knew he’d almost said lover. Eleanor peeked over her shoulder at him. He grinned in response.

“A lady who verbalizes her desires is more likely to get exactly what she wants,” Shermont said. His statement had the ring of a promise in disguise.

“And is likely never to be quiet,” Teddy added.

“That’s not very flattering,” Eleanor said, her tone chastising.

“I’m not referring to you, my dear. My sisters are always demanding the latest gewgaw or trinket.”

“Fashions change rapidly,” she said. “We all like to remain au courant with the latest trends.”

Teddy sighed. “So I am learning. A guardian’s responsibility is a heavy burden when one carries it alone.” He looked at her with sad, puppy eyes in a blatant bid for sympathy.

She patted his arm. “You’re lucky to have Aunt Patience, Uncle Huxley, and a bevy of servants to share your affliction.”

“Affliction. Yes, that’s a good term for my situation.”

The dig had apparently gone over Teddy’s head, but Shermont’s cough sounded suspiciously as though it covered a chuckle.

The promenade ended at a wide expanse of lawn. The chaperones were seated to the left of the field under a majestic elm. The girls in their pastel dresses practiced their swings with wooden mallets. The pastoral scene brought to mind Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte. She had first seen the pointillism masterpiece as a child, while visiting the Art Institute of Chicago with her grandmother. The large painting, nearly seven by eleven feet, made a grand impression and remained one of her favorites for its sense of harmony. No untidiness, nothing disordered. The bucolic vista before her evoked the same poetic peacefulness.

Eleanor enjoyed the elegant scene for only a moment before Mina spotted them and shrieked her welcome. Although Mina and Deirdre called Eleanor’s name, she was astute enough to know the real object of their enthusiastic greeting was Shermont, who stood directly behind her. Even without touching him, she was aware of his presence, his warmth. Aware that if she took a mere two steps back, she would run up against his body.

The girls came running like a pair of joyful puppies, only to pull up short upon catching sight of Teddy’s disapproving frown. They walked the last twenty feet in sedate propriety.

“We have been awaiting your arrival to start the game,” Mina said with a curtsey.

The entire group strolled toward the wire rack that held the rest of the mallets and colorful striped croquet balls.

“As the guest who has come the longest distance, I think Cousin Eleanor should choose her color first,” Teddy said. His tone implied that he was used to his suggestions being taken for law.

“Excellent idea,” Deirdre agreed. She turned to Eleanor. “Of course, Teddy always plays blue, like his beautiful eyes.”

“And Deirdre always plays green,” Mina said. “I’m yellow.”

Beatrix piped in her claim for white striped ball. And Hazel and Fiona spoke up for brown and orange.

“Then it’s a good thing my favorite color is red,” Eleanor said with a smile.

“And black for me,” Shermont said. “I’m glad the one left isn’t pink.”

As play began, Eleanor realized the countryfolk took their croquet seriously. She hadn’t played since she was a child and concentrated on watching the others so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. Even so, she could tell Shermont’s head wasn’t in the game.

Shermont mentally kicked himself for allowing a female to distract him. He’d hoped to learn something incriminating by listening at the estate office window, but Eleanor’s arrival had caused him to lose focus. Instead of narrowing his list of suspects or finding out where the foreign agents met to pass on military information to Napoleon’s agents, he’d been discussing a play with Eleanor.

Something about that female made him forget everything else. He rubbed the scar on his forehead.

Despite the girls surrounding him and clamoring for his attention, he rededicated himself to his mission. He would not let Eleanor distract him again. From the corner of his eye he noted Digby helping Eleanor apply a proper grip to her mallet. Shermont turned away. To maintain his persona of carefree lord, he busied himself with the girls. He was careful not to show particular attention to anyone.

Beatrix moped at the edge of the circle of friends, and he wasn’t surprised at the venomous looks she shot in Eleanor’s direction. Digby seemed determined to send everyone else back to the beginning to clear a path for Eleanor to win. Shermont felt more than a bit uncharitable toward the man himself.