An Unlikely Suitor. Nicola Cornick

refused to look back. There was no doubt that Barney Hammond had disturbed her. He had disturbed her very much indeed.

      

      ‘I cannot believe that you have managed to foist two repellent strays upon this household, Lavender,’ Lewis Brabant said testily, as he disentangled one of the kittens from his trouser leg at breakfast the following morning. The little creature, a bundle of ginger fluff, hung on tenaciously. Lewis put his newspaper down and picked it up with a gentleness that belied his words. The kitten started to purr immediately and Lewis pulled a face.

      ‘See how she likes you,’ Caroline offered with a smile. She was feeding the other kitten on her lap and it was eating ferociously. ‘Poor little scraps—I believe they are half starved!’

      Lewis made a noise indicative of disgust. ‘Well, they had best start to earn their keep! The kitchen will be the best place for them, not the drawing-room!’

      ‘Yes, my dear,’ Caroline said soothingly. She gave him a winning smile. ‘They will surely be warm and well fed if we keep them indoors!’ Her smile broadened. ‘You cannot cozen me—I know you think them delightfu1.’

      Lewis gave a non-committal grunt and got up from the breakfast table. He bent to kiss his wife. ‘I shall be in the estate room if you need me. If I find any mice, I shall know what to do!’

      Caroline was still smiling as she watched him out of the room. She turned to her sister-in-law. ‘I do believe your new pets are a success, Lavender! Lewis is quite smitten!’

      Lavender raised her eyebrows. She knew that her brother’s disapproval was partly feigned but she had been hard pressed to explain her rescue of the kittens in a convincing fashion. To go out for a walk and return with two new pets in a sack was somewhat singular, especially as she was claiming simply to have found them.

      ‘Is it not strange,’ Caroline was musing now, ‘that the kittens were wrapped in a sack from Hammond’s store? The sort of sacking used to bind up reels of material and the like? I wonder if they have lost them? Perhaps we should ask, for they may wish for them back—’

      Lavender jumped, spilling some of her hot chocolate. She had not thought of that.

      ‘Was it one of Hammond’s sacks? I did not notice,’ she said, as casually as she was able.

      ‘Which reminds me,’ Caroline continued, ‘that you promised to go to Abbot Quincey for some purchases for me today. Some embroidery thread, and I find I need some ribbons as well. I have made a list. Is that still convenient, Lavender?’

      Lavender sighed. It was unfortunate that Caroline should have a commission for her today of all days. She did not wish for a walk this morning and she certainly did not want to go into Abbot Quincey and into Hammonds drapers shop. Having paid the shop too many visits in the past month, she now felt a distinct inclination to stay away from Barnabas Hammond, a need to avoid all those puzzling and disturbing feelings that he had brought to the surface. She had tossed and turned for a good hour before she had fallen asleep the previous night, and most of her thoughts had centred on Barney Hammond.

      She realised that Caroline was watching her with bright hazel eyes, and that she had not yet replied.

      ‘It is perfectly convenient, Caro,’ she said hastily. She pushed away her plate of ham and eggs. Suddenly she did not feel so hungry.

      ‘I must send a message to Lady Perceval as well,’ Caroline said. ‘Now, where did I leave the writing box? In the library? I have become so tiresomely forgetful of late…’

      Lavender smiled. ‘Nanny Pryor says that that happens to ladies who are increasing!’

      Caroline looked offended. ‘What arrant nonsense!’

      ‘Then why are you wearing your thimble for breakfast, Caro?’

      Caroline looked down at her finger and tutted. ‘Gracious! I could have sworn that I left that in my sewing bag!’ She caught Lavender’s eye and smiled reluctantly. ‘Very well, you have proved your point! Now, what was it that I was looking for?’

      ‘The writing paper.’ Lavender got up hastily. ‘I will fetch it for you, Caro! I do not wish you to become lost on your way to the library!’

      Chapter Two

      The walk into Abbot Quincey was one that Lavender knew particularly well and normally she enjoyed it immensely. She loved the sound of the wind in the tall trees, the shadow patterns of the clouds as they raced across the fields and the sting of the fresh air in her face. Her walks always gave her ample time to think about her painting and her reading and any number of other delightful and intellectual pursuits that had always filled her time until now. But this morning—Lavender paused to tie the ribbons of her bonnet more firmly under her chin, for the wind was tugging the brim—she was aware of feeling decidedly out of sorts. In fact, she admitted to herself, it was worse than that. She felt blue-devilled.

      Her mother, the Honourable Lavinia Brabant, had always maintained that a lady had no excuse for idleness or boredom. An informed and educated mind would always provide resources for solitude, and if that failed one should just remind oneself of the good fortune that had placed one in such an enviable position in life. Lavender felt very strongly that her mama had been quite right and would not approve of her daughter’s current indisposition.

      Lavender sighed. She knew that some of her restlessness sprang from the thoughts she had been having the previous day about her place at Hewly and her future plans. She felt unsettled, unfulfilled. Something was missing…

      She went first to the church and laid some fresh flowers from the Hewly gardens on the grave of her father, Admiral Brabant. The graveside, in a quiet corner of the churchyard under a spreading oak, was peaceful and somehow comforting. Lavender sat down on a wooden seat nearby and rested her chin on her hand. Perhaps her father could help her sort her thoughts into some kind of order. He had always been a stickler for method and regulation during his lifetime.

      It occurred to her that he had left her a considerable sum of money, and that that would enable her to leave Hewly if she so desired and to set up in a respectable house elsewhere. She could engage a companion—certainly she could afford to engage several—and if she were to find someone as amenable as Caroline, she would count herself lucky. Perhaps Lady Perceval could help her, for that matron was so well connected and well informed that she would know of any suitable persons seeking employment. The idea held some appeal but it also held some drawbacks. Lavender acknowledged that she liked living at Hewly and she liked the Abbey villages, and indeed, no one was trying to drive her away. Lewis and Caroline would no doubt be mortified if they even suspected her thoughts. She sighed again. Her musings did not seem to be getting her very far.

      Lavender looked at the neat mound of her father’s grave. She could imagine him addressing her, puffing out his chest in the imposing manner in which he used to lecture to his sailors: ‘Action, not inaction is the solution to any crisis. Cease this foolish wool-gathering, my girl, and get about your business!’

      With a faint smile, Lavender got to her feet and picked up the basket.

      She could always marry. The thought popped into her head as she was walking back around the church and heard the clock strike the hour. She had always been accustomed to thinking of herself as at her last prayers, but Caroline was nine and twenty, a good five years older than she. Perhaps there was a chance—although not much a chance of finding a husband as good as her brother.

      Lavender considered the idea idly as she walked into the town. Her bridegroom would need to be an intelligent man who would appreciate a bluestocking wife and enjoy discussing weighty matters with her. He would encourage her sketching and her writing and would have plenty of interests of his own. He would not be at all the sort of man to want a pretty ninnyhammer, for she was well aware that her looks were no more than ordinary. He would need to be possessed of a reasonable competence, to live in the country and to shun the society pursuits that she had so detested when she had visited London. Lavender started to laugh at her own absurdity, but the thought persisted. As for age, well, she