Working Man, Society Bride. Mary Nichols

big,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder how far the Viscount’s land stretches.’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Just think, you will be mistress of it.’

      ‘Only if I marry Mr Gorridge, and then only on the demise of the Viscount.’

      ‘Well, you are going to marry him, aren’t you?’

      ‘I don’t know. He hasn’t asked me yet and perhaps he won’t.’

      ‘Of course he will. That’s what this stay is all about, isn’t it? For you and he to come to an understanding.’

      ‘But I am not sure I do understand. I do not know why Papa and Mama are so keen on him. If a man can leave his house guests to go and get drunk…’

      ‘Oh, you are not going to hold that against him, surely? All men get drunk sometimes. Why, I have known Papa to get a little tipsy on occasion and Mama thinks nothing of it. Perhaps he was a little nervous of the future. It must take courage to propose, especially if the poor man has no encouragement from his intended.’

      Lucy laughed. ‘You are probably right. Let us turn back. It must be nearly time for luncheon.’

      They turned and made their way back to the house, which was just as imposing from the side as it was from the front. It was perfect; there wasn’t a window that did not gleam, not a step that did not dazzle with its whiteness, not a blade of grass out of place nor a weed in the flower beds. It needed an army to keep it like that.

      When they arrived they discovered more guests had arrived and luncheon would be taken in the large dining room at the front of the house. Lucy and Rosie went up to their rooms to tidy themselves.

      

      The atmosphere of an intimate family gathering disappeared during lunch. The company consisted of Sir Edwin Benwistle and his wife and daughter, Ursula, distant relatives of Lady Gorridge; Mr and Mrs Ashbury, Victor’s parents, who evidently knew nothing of the previous evening’s escapade, for Mrs Ashbury continually commented on the fact that her son did not look ‘quite the thing,’ to which he replied irritably that he was perfectly well. Others of the party were friends of Viscount Gorridge who were there for the fishing and shooting and who had brought wives and daughters, so that the party numbered twenty.

      ‘The lake is well stocked,’ his lordship told them as they enjoyed a sumptuous luncheon. ‘I propose a little competition to see who can bag the greatest weight. A magnum of champagne for the winner.’

      ‘Supposing the winner is a lady,’ Rosemary asked.

      ‘A lady?’ he queried in surprise.

      ‘Why not, my lord? I shouldn’t think the fish are particular whose bait they take.’

      ‘Well, I suppose a lady could take part.’ He beamed at her in a condescending manner. ‘A separate prize for the winning lady, then. A new bonnet, eh, what?’

      ‘Silly idea,’ Edward murmured to Lucy, who was seated beside him.

      ‘What, that a lady can fish or that she should win a new hat?’

      ‘Neither—the idea of fishing as a pastime.’ He was feeling decidedly under the weather, but to have absented himself from luncheon would have been unforgivable in his father’s eyes and he was already in trouble as it was, having to beg the price of a barrel of ale because a gambling debt was a debt of honour and he had spent his monthly allowance. But he’d be blowed if he’d let that navvy have the last laugh. He didn’t remember being brought home, but Victor had furnished the details and said his mother had put it about that he had been taken ill and Mr Masters had asked the navvy to drive him home in the gig. But, damn it, the fellow did not have to carry him into the house.

      ‘You do not care for it?’

      ‘No, I would rather go for a ride. What about it, my lady, shall you leave them to their fishing and allow me to show you the countryside on horseback?’

      ‘If Mama agrees, I would like that.’

      ‘Lady Luffenham, will you allow me to take Lady Lucinda for a ride this afternoon?’ he asked.

      Lady Luffenham looked at her husband, who gave a small nod. ‘Very well, but take someone with you.’

      ‘Victor will come, won’t you, Cousin?’

      ‘I meant a lady,’ the Countess put in quickly. ‘For appearance’s sake. Perhaps Rosemary.’

      ‘Oh, Mama,’ she protested. ‘I want to go fishing.’

      ‘Then you have been nominated, Dotty,’ Edward told his sister before Lady Luffenham could insist. ‘We shall be four. That should satisfy the proprieties.’

      

      As soon as the meal was finished, everyone dispersed. The fishermen and women went to select their rods and bait and to be shown their stations round the lake, others who preferred to stroll set off down the drive and the elderly went up to their rooms to take an afternoon nap. The four riders went to the stables, where Edward made a great fuss about choosing a mount for Lucy.

      ‘Cinder is a good lady’s mount,’ he said, pointing to a horse with a mottled grey coat. ‘Will he do?’

      ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, realising that calling him a lady’s mount probably meant he was docile to the point of sluggishness. She was a good rider and would have preferred an animal with a little spirit, but decided not to make an issue of it.

      Dorothea had her own horse, which was only slightly more lively, and the two men had big bays. Once they were all saddled and mounted, the four riders set off at a gentle trot across the park. ‘We’ll go up on to Gorrymoor,’ Edward said. ‘It has some spectacular views.’

      He led the way, skirting the village and trotting through the wood that lay behind it. The path was narrow and there was little opportunity for conversation, which Lucy was glad of. She was studying Edward’s back and was obliged to admit he sat a horse very well. It reminded her that she had promised herself to concentrate on his good points, so, while they walked their horses through the leafy shade, she began to list them. There was, of course, his obvious wealth and prospects. He was handsome in his own way, had a slim figure and was well turned out. The cost of clothes would not be an issue with him. He was educated, but how well she had no idea; his manners were polite and he did not appear to be governed by temper. Perhaps she had been unkind to call him a cold fish, because any show of passion would not have endeared him to her.

      And then she came to a stop. She had no idea of his likes and dislikes, whether he would be a loving and affectionate father to his children, what his plans were concerning the life he meant to lead. Surely not one of indolence, which appeared to be the case at the moment. No doubt Lord Gorridge was grooming him to take over the estate and that was no mean task. Could she learn to love him? Was love something that could be learned? According to her mother, it was. But her mother belonged to another generation, when young ladies were expected to obey without question, to marry from a very narrow selection of gentlemen. Society was changing and changing fast and the old ideas were dying, but not quickly enough to help her.

      They emerged from the trees, trotted up a narrow lane past a single cottage with a few chickens pecking in the yard and a dog on a chain, which barked ferociously as they passed the gate. Then they were on the moor and Edward urged his horse to a canter, followed by Victor, then Dorothea. Lucy kicked hard, hoping to find Cinder had a little life in him. He obeyed after a time and she realised his sluggishness was habit; he had never been given his head before. Once urged into a canter, he went well and she soon caught the others as they reached the highest point and stopped.

      ‘There!’ Edward said, waving his crop about him. ‘All that is Gorridge land—the farms, the village of Gorryham and goodness knows how many smaller hamlets and farms. There, on the far side of the lake, is Luffenham land. See the river—it’s the same one that flows past Luffenham Hall.’

      ‘What are