Page 19 of A Landscape of Love

Fidelia sighed and returned her attention to the beautiful illustration of the tiger lily. A smile touched her lips, and she reached for her paints.

Chapter 5

To the Hon’ble Cat Mau,

Thank you for your letter and your enquiries as to my wellbeing. I am in excellent health and spirits. I hope you too are well, and that Leo is not causing you too much aggravation. He is rather a handful and takes a good deal of looking after so you have my deepest sympathies for the trouble he must cause you. I pray his escapades have not diminished your enjoyment of Goshen Court.

I too, am partial to pheasant, a pity you had to relinquish your trophy, but it’s always best not to upset one's host.

I am glad you think of your time at Trevick with fondness. However, I find my recollection of the tangle you made of my embroidery silks is one of less appreciation. I believe I also made my feelings known to you, regarding the presents. It is unkind and ungentlemanly for a fellow to press his attentions on a lady when she has made her sentiments clear.

I do not enjoy dead mice or rats, and most especially not birds – except for pheasant, providing it is roasted with a wine and mushroom sauce.

Despite all the above, I do think of you fondly, Mau, and hope we meet again one day, providing your manners have improved.

―Excerpt of a letter from the Hon’ble Miss Violetta Spencer (cousin and adopted daughter to The Right Hon’ble Kitty and Luke Baxter, Countess and Earl of Trevick) to The Hon’ble Cat, Mau.

10th February 1850, Thistle Cottage, Hardacre Hall Estate, Hardacre, Derbyshire.

Hart glowered at his reflection in the small looking glass and sighed. He disliked getting dressed up, but his mother would be displeased with him if he did not go to church on Sunday and it set a poor example to his men. So, he’d put on his Sunday best and even attempted tying a half decent cravat. He stared at it critically. Not half bad, though Ash would have a fit, he thought with amusement. Ashton Anson took such details seriously and had been trying for years with no success to reform Hart’s wardrobe and curb his offenses to fashion.

Picking up his gloves and shoving his hat on his head, Hart left the cottage and began the walk to church. It was a lovely bright morning but bitterly cold and he picked up his pace, hoping to keep himself warm. The sound of hooves on the road behind him made him turn to see an elegant equipage coming towards him. Two beautiful greys trotted towards him, stepping high, sunlight glinting on shiny tack as they drew nearer.

Hart stepped to one side to allow the carriage to pass him on the narrow path and was surprised when it came to a stop. The window slid down, and Lord Alex stuck his head out.

“Mr De Beauvoir, here’s a lucky thing. Come, get up with us. It’s a perishing cold day for walking.”

Hart hesitated. It was bitter, but he did not wish to become too familiar with Lord Alex or Lady Fidelia… and yet he could hardly refuse such a kind invitation.

“Thank you,” he said, removing his hat and thanking the footman who let down the steps for him.

“Lady Fidelia,” he said, nodding a greeting at her.

“Good morning, Mr De Beauvoir, and how smart you look,” she said, and then blushed.

Hart hid a smile. He suspected she had not expected him to dress so elegantly, and the sight had surprised her into making a tactless comment. Not that he minded, for he knew she had not meant it with any sly double meaning, inferring perhaps that he was aping his betters.

“Thank you,” he said, holding her gaze for the delight of watching her colour deepen.

“We were wondering if you would care to come to dinner with us,” she said, blurting the words out so hurriedly Hart wondered if she’d thought about it or had just panicked. Perhaps she believed she’d offended him and wished to make amends.

He opened his mouth to refuse, albeit with as much tact as he could muster, when Alex exclaimed.

“Oh, capital! Yes, Mr De Beauvoir, do come. I told Lia to ask you, but I wasn’t sure she would, but now… Please come. We don’t stand on ceremony when his grace isn’t home, you know. It will be quite comfortable, just the three of us.”

That’s what I’m worried about, Hart thought, groaning inwardly, but he could hardly say so.

“Please come,” Alex pressed, looking so crestfallen at the suspicion he was about to receive a refusal that Hart wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it.

“We would be so happy if you would come,” Lady Fidelia added, her voice soft. “We get very little company.”

She glanced at him and away again and Hart sighed. There was no escape.

“I would be glad to come,” he lied, wishing fervently he’d left the house five minutes later.

“Wonderful!” Alex said, beaming at him. “Shall we say tomorrow night? Mondays are always such dreary days; it will be nice to have something to look forward to.”

“Certainly,” Hart said, amused and rather touched by the lad finding his company something to brighten the day. Still, from what he could tell, Hardacre was not a place that welcomed visitors. There were no parties, no entertainments apart from occasional shooting parties. He doubted either Fidelia or Alex enjoyed such events.