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  I feared some heavy-handed gallantry from the man but was surprised. His aim was to talk business, in the middle of a dance. “When will your brother be home?” he asked.

  Taking it for mere chit chat, I said only that he would be back soon.

  “You are having a difficult time of it without him,” he said, in a sympathetic way.

  “My brother has never taken much interest in the farm,” I condescended to tell him.

  “No doubt that is why it is in such a shocking state.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No offence, ma’am. No offence intended. But you know I take a great interest in that stretch of country near Wingdale. I have my eye on you,” he said jokingly. Oh, but there was truth under the little sally. “Things cannot go on much longer in such a state. I’ll tell you, Miss Barwick, I am ready to talk business any time you are.”

  “I am not ready to talk business at an assembly, sir!” I declared haughtily.

  “We both know I don’t get many chances to talk to you. Now be sensible, do. A lady cannot run a sheep farm, and your brother don’t want to. If you’re wise, you’ll sell up while the place is still worth something. Another year of sinking deeper into debt, and a sale won’t bring enough to break even. I want the land, those acres between your house and Barwick Pike behind. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Miss Barwick.”

  “Captain Wingdale, I do not wish to discuss it.”

  The steps of the dance (a cotillion it was) determined that we separate. No sooner had he twirled back within ear shot than he was at it again. “Here’s the bargain, and no money changes hands at all. You give me your holding—keep the heaf if you like, it is of no use to me—turn over your house and lands, and in exchange you and your family get one of my tidy new cottages. All the extras and luxuries you could want. More than you have now.”

  I accepted Mr. Gregory’s hand, with a glare over my shoulder at the merchant. When we met again I was still glaring, and he was still bargaining. “Throw in a fence around your place, an iron fence, and space in the back for a garden. The other cottages won’t have so fine a place. Only right the Barwicks have some extra distinction. One of the finest old families in the district.”

  “No!”

  “And a closed stove,” he tossed back at me, as he advanced to his next partner and to the next step of the dance.

  This is how the dance proceeded till its termination. A carpet for the stairs and a years’ free subscription to the assemblies here at Wingdale Hause were thrown in before it was over. I was still saying no.

  “She’s a hard bargainer,” he said to Gamble when he brought me back to our table. Then he spoke to me, in a low voice. “If you’re wise, you’ll accept my terms, Miss Barwick. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “You’ll find Ambledown does not burn easily, Captain!” I shot back, in a voice a few notches louder than his own.

  He flashed a dangerous glance at me, clamped his common lips tight, and walked away, straight-backed, fast, angry.

  “Mr. Gamble, I wish to go home now,” I said, with my chin in the air, and possibly a dangerous sparkle in my own eyes. Jack gave me no argument but offered his arm to Emily, and the three of us strode out the door. Wingdale did not come to make his adieux, as I half feared. Neither did Tom, but I don’t think he saw us go.

  “What happened?” Gamble asked, as we waited for the carriage to be brought round.

  “Wingdale wants to buy Ambledown, to tear it down and throw up eight or ten cottages in the meadow.”

  “What price did he offer?”

  “He is not so fast as you, sir. He didn’t actually name a figure.”

  “I take it you’re not willing to sell?”

  “I cannot sell my brother’s estate, and would not if I could.”

  “Might not be a bad thing,” the unfeeling creature said, very offhandedly. “What I mean is, it is a shame to see the place go to rack and ruin. If Edward cannot keep it up, it would be well to see it in the hands of some caring family who would do so, but I do not mean Wingdale, obviously. Its historical associations add some charm to the district.”

  There was very little conversation as we went home. Emily made some yawning remarks about the assembly. Just before I was left off at the door, Jack said, “If Edward does sell, I would like to arrange to purchase his heaf. Wingdale won’t want it, and I need feeding acreage for the herd I am purchasing.”

  “You must get together with Wingdale and help him set a torch to the place then, as he implied he meant to do.”

  “You can’t mean he said that!”

  “Not in so many words. It was a veiled threat, but if we have any more broken fences, killed dogs, or particularly any fires, I mean to bring in the authorities from outside the parish, if the local ones do not act. In fact, it seems to me it should be reported to someone that our Deputy Lieutenant is inactive, and has sold his prerogative to maintain law and order to a felon.”

  “That is dangerous talk, milady.”

  “The Captain is not the only one who can threaten. As he is such a great and good friend of yours, you may feel free to tell him what I have said.”

  “I have overestimated your intelligence,” he said with a weary sigh. “I might have known a woman ...”

  “I am intelligent enough to wish I had stayed home, in any case.”

  “And foolish enough to have forgotten why you went. This was our opportunity to feel out the enemy, remember?”

  “It seems to me I learned a good deal more from him than you did. I cannot think the female calling herself Lady Trevithick, who is a mere tourist, provided you with any useful clues in the matter.”

  “Oh but she did! Only the tourists know what the tourists want. Wingdale is not providing anything to the higher class tourist—those who wish to blend a little culture with their entertainment.”

  “I think he is providing the sort of culture she wants. And in any case, we are not in the business of entertaining tourists. My own wish is to be rid of them.”

  “You can’t turn the calendar back. Our little paradise here amidst the lakes has been discovered by the world. Someone is going to exploit it—the Wingdales, or someone with better taste.”

  “You sound as If you plan to join in the activity.”

  “Hurry up, John. I’m tired,” Emily called from the carriage.

  “Sorry you did not enjoy your evening,” he said, bowed, and left.

  Chapter Eleven

  With so much on my mind, sleep proved impossible. At three o’clock I went downstairs to sit on the front porch in my nightgown and not a stitch else, it was so hot. It was so oppressively muggy I wished I had one of those punkah wielders Gamble had spoken of. The moon hung low in the sky, a fuzzy moon, due to the haze and moisture in the air. No stars were visible. A little breeze was blowing up from the lake, enough to cause an impression at least of coolness.

  I sat alone in the darkness thinking, plotting to discover a path out of our financial difficulty. If I paid the fence menders and Ritson (for Becky), our mortgage could not be met. The bank had extended it before, but I did not like to ask it at this time. They might use it as an excuse to sell it to Wingdale, who would certainly foreclose. I was sure he had arranged the trouble with our walls and Scout’s death—had done it to force us to renege on the mortgage payment.

  It was a difficult decision to make, but at about four in the morning it was suddenly very clear. It was inevitable. I must sell my dowry, and use the proceeds to pay our bills. I do not refer to anything so grand as money when I speak of my dowry. It consists of a little jewelry, a silver tea service, and some plate left me by my mother. With the tourists coming to town, there was a good market for such items. The tea service, for example, would fetch a fair price, enough to pay for the wall and Becky. The other things would go, too, in bits and pieces. And then what was left to sell? Myself. I would marry Tom in the end, very likely, but not without a good fight first for my freedom.
/>   It was extremely unpleasant, having to sell this part of my heritage. Not the least humiliating was to see the treasured items sitting in the window of the used articles shop not ten minutes after the bargain was struck with Oldham, the proprietor. They would be recognized by the tabbies of Grasmere, the fact of their having been sold discussed over tea. Never mind, they were not the first local silver to decorate Oldham’s window, and they would not be the last.

  The sale had one unforeseen consequence, whether for good or ill I do not know, but I know it was very distressing. I sold the set at eleven in the morning, deposited the money in the bank against the bills soon to be coming in, and went home quickly to Ambledown to mourn their loss. It was not much later than half after two when Tom’s carriage came rattling up the road. When he alit, he carried not his customary meal but a large carton. I was angry with him after the preceding evening’s performance. Not entirely happy with myself either. He set the box at my feet, placed his hands on his hips in a simulation of offended anger, and said, “You might have told me, Chloe.”

  “What’s in the box?” I asked, though I had a very good idea.

  “Your tea service. Chloe, why did you not tell me? You know I would have been honoured to lend money—any sum you need. Within reason, I mean. You are welcome to what I have.”

  “Oh, Tom, I wish you had not.”

  “Chloe, my dear!” He sat on the chair set aside for Nora and seized my fingers in his, sending a pair of sox in the process of being darned to the grass. “It is all clear to me now. Your friendship with Gamble, your going to the assembly with him. I hope you have not borrowed much from him. I shall redeem your note at once, of course.”

  “I have not borrowed from Gamble! Why should I have sold the tea service if I had?” I suppose he was trying to make some sense from my sudden freakish starts.

  “Thank God!” he said, weak with relief. “I own I was hurt that you should turn to him before me. Oh, Chloe, if I acted badly last night, that is the reason. It was jealousy, pure and simple, at seeing you there with him.”

  “Tom, you ninny! I was acting chaperone for Emily.”

  “But why did you do it if ...” He stopped, frowning. After a few seconds his brow cleared, as he thought he had my reason worked out. “It is because of Edward you do it. You wish to stop any gossip that Gamble and Emily are to make a match of it.”

  This was no new idea. I think it had more than a little to do with Gamble’s having asked me, in fact. I did not mention it amidst the more exciting concerns of my evening at Wingdale Hause, but Gamble had dropped a few favourable remarks about Lady Irene. I felt his interest in Emily was waning, while his admiration for the older cousin waxed. “I was surprised to see you there, Tom.”

  “I drop in once in a while. Everyone does. It is pretty dull when one is a bachelor, you know. I would not go if ... Chloe, marry me! This is nonsense, you selling your few treasures to make ends meet, when you know I want to marry you. Let Edward marry Emily. Your Aunt Nora can come with us or stay with them—it is all right with me, either way. Things will be arranged just as you like. And Gamble must do something for Emily if she and Edward fall into hot water. He’ll look nohow if he don’t.”

  There was some merit in his speech. It was the sane, logical way out of our dilemma. To lead him on was unconscionable. I sat debating, not finding it in my mind to refuse and not finding it in my heart to accept. In the meanwhile, the large carton at my feet posed a serious problem, for I would not accept it unless I accepted Tom too, and he had no thought of taking it home, for his mama to discover what he had done. I expressed some regret that I could not purchase it back from him.

  “Keep the twenty-five pounds, and keep the silver,” he insisted.

  “Twenty-five pounds? Oldham only gave me twenty. Tom, we have been cheated.”

  “Man has to make a profit. He ain’t in business for the fun of it.”

  “He does not have to make his profit on us. Fleecing the tourists provides him a very good living without robbing the local gentry into the bargain. Take it back and get your money.”

  “I shall do nothing of the sort.”

  “I am not taking that silver into the house. It is yours, and if you leave it here it will sit out in the wind and rain till someone steals it.”

  “Stubborn woman,” he complained, but he lifted the carton from the ground back into his carriage. “It will be in my attic, waiting for you to change your mind,” he warned. It was clear Tom meant to stay for dinner, and likely the evening as well. After about half an hour it became equally clear I had no intension of inviting him, so he left, once again in a fit of pique. I expect the evening would find him at Wingdale’s once more, dancing with Cora Mandrel. I half wished he would offer for her, to save me the bother of coming to a decision. I’ll wager she wished for it, too, for while I poke fun at Tom, he is really very nice, and eligible.

  Over the next week the men got our stone walls repaired, I paid them and Ritson, Ulrich introduced Becky to her chores, Nora finished her green shawl and began a blue sofa rug, and Mr. Gamble offered marriage to Lady Emily. This latter detail came to our attention through the courtesy of Hennie Crawford. She did not often come to call on us, but she made a special trip over, with Emily in tow, to make the announcement. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I made sure Lady Irene had the inner track. They were not long seated in the saloon, the duenna reeking of onions and flexing her sausage-like fingers in her black mittens, till she puffed her breast up like a pigeon and said, “Have you heard the news from Carnforth Hall, ladies?”

  There was always such a deal of news circulating about the place since Jack’s return that we did not know whether she referred to the Indian pavilion under construction, the matter of Gamble’s setting up as a sheep farmer, the Indian female who had given birth to a baby, or something to do with the menagerie. Before she could stun us with the announcement, Emily said shyly, “Cousin John has asked me to marry him, Chloe.”

  I felt a great urge to laugh. I don’t know why. It was a shabby, underhanded trick for him to ask her while Edward was still away. I own it came as a shock to me, for I consider myself to be rather a dab at spotting romances, and I had been so sure this one was declining. “I hope you will be very happy,” I said.

  “I have not accepted yet!” she exclaimed, looking with a guilty glance to Hennie.

  “She is playing hard to get,” Mrs. Crawford told us. “Of course, she will accept, after a discreet time for consideration. It does not do to rush into things pell-mell, but as I told Emily the night John made his offer, if she does not have him, Lady Irene will not be long in snapping him up. She has written asking them both to spend a month with her, saying at the same time she can come to us if we cannot go to her. He is an excellent parti, and so very considerate. He goes to any length to please Emily. A lady would be foolish to refuse such an offer, when there is no one else of her acquaintance who can offer half or a quarter so much.” This angry tirade was directed full at myself, as Edward’s representative, I assume.

  “Quite true. You will not do better than Mr. Gamble, Emily,” I agreed, mostly to disconcert the Tartar. She did not know what to make of my agreement, and went on to point out, herself, a few of Edward’s advantages, which was surely not her intention.

  “Just because you have felt some attraction to Mr. Barwick, my dear, is not to think your feelings are unalterable. He is younger, of course, and his poetical nature perhaps seems more closely attuned to your own. I’m sure he is an excellent fellow in his way, but he will never be Lord Carnforth, and never possess worldly goods to match John’s.”

  “A lady cannot overlook material considerations altogether,” I agreed blandly, seeing that Emily was not at all impressed by these persuasions.

  “Cousin John is so dark, almost like an Indian,” she protested, becoming sulky that Edward’s spokesman did not make a stronger push to attach her affection.

  “Pooh, he is ten shades lighter
than when he came home,” Hennie averred. We had had such a hot summer he had not paled at all, though the darkening of the other males tended to make him less conspicuous.

  “I shan’t make up my mind till Edward gets back,” she insisted.

  “Don’t think your cousin will wait forever,” Hennie warned.

  “Edward will hardly be gone that long,” I pointed out. “He is due home shortly now. I wonder Mr. Gamble did not await his return, as he knew of the affection between Emily and my brother.” As I considered this naive speech, it occurred to me his wish might very well be to get her engaged to himself before Edward’s return.

  “He does not insist on an answer at once,” Emily assured me. “He just wants me to know Edward is not the only man who wants to marry me. Perhaps you will tell him so, Chloe.”

  I was fast falling out of charity with the minx. She would not have had an offer from Gamble without some encouragement of her own part. Of that I am certain. He is a proud man, one who would not enjoy being rejected, especially by a chit scarcely out of the schoolroom. It looked wonderfully as though her only reason for encouraging him was to work Edward up to an offer. Seventeen years old, and she knew every trick in the book where men were concerned.

  “I imagine you will tell him yourself, Emily,” I answered curtly.

  “I will if he calls,” she admitted frankly, her face the picture of innocence. She plainly saw nothing wrong in using all her wiles to win a husband, the husband of her choice.

  Hennie sat on for some time, puffing up Gamble’s merits to his cousin. It occurred to me she would welcome a cup of tea on this occasion. She was not offered one, as our silver tea service was in Tom’s attic, and I had no intention of pouring from a china pot with a chipped spout. She took very well to this snub, as some strange people do, mistaking rudeness for breeding. Before she herded Emily out the door, she said, “We look forward to seeing you ladies. You must come and see all the innovations Mr. Gamble has initiated.”