Sweet Bargain (3 page)

Farre had hoped that a stay in London would show Nick how many men found a woman without having to fight a duel or conquer a city on her behalf. But Nick hadn't lasted a month in town, and now he would bury himself on this property and Farre wouldn't be able to budge him till the fish stopped biting.

The scant foliage of early spring allowed glimpses of the flashing river, and the sound of waters rose to meet them. From the rush of it, like a chorus of whispers, Nick judged the river to be running full and deep, and his impatience to see it grew. Sleek and shimmering trout would be waiting there, where the current could bring them flies and larvae.

Then another sound reached his ears—not a sound of wood dwellers, but the sound of boys yelling, a dog barking, and a great deal of splashing. Someone was in his river, driving all the fish into holes and shadows, from which even the cleverest of fishermen would not be able to lure them.

He stared through the trees but could not see the trespassers. Whoever they were, they had stolen his moment of pleasure. He strode toward a tiny gravel beach at the foot of the hill. Then he was in the open, looking at a wide, shallow pool where the river had carved out a bit of the facing meadow. It ran swift and clear over pebbles and sand. Willows and reeds bent softly down along the opposite bank that stretched away into meadow.

Four youths in breeches splashed in the depths, a tawny dog barking at them from a rock. Two girls sat decorously on a second rock, plaiting reeds, and a mere child, not much out of leading strings, threw pebbles into the shallows. In their midst was a young woman in white muslin, her head tilted down so that Nick could see only the top of her bonnet, her attitude serene and reflective in spite of the noise around her. The sun was so bright on her muslin dress that her skirts seemed to burn with white light. The young woman's hands were at her side, holding the skirts of her dress above the water. Little wavelets from the swimmers washed gently against her white legs.

Nick had a sudden, futile impulse to check the momentum of his anger, but he couldn't. He dropped the rod and gear he carried and waded into the stream. "What are you doing in my river?" he shouted, wishing at the same time that he had come upon the girl silently so that he could watch her unobserved.

At his words the girl in the middle of the pool looked up, startled, and the splashing and shouting stopped. Nick sensed that all the children were staring at him. He felt Farre step up behind him softly and deliberately, but he couldn't look away from the face of the girl. If spring had a maiden's face, it was this face, all blossoms of hawthorn and eyes of blue speedwell and curls as gold as honeysuckle.

Bel looked toward the angry voice. She had been watching a school of silver minnows at her feet, and, looking up suddenly, she was momentarily blinded by the water's glare. Then she saw the man. He looked not much older than she and was dressed like a shepherd—such a shepherd as Paris must have been when the contending goddesses asked him to judge their beauty. Even anger couldn't mar his face, fine and lean, and oddly, she thought, suffused with wonder.

"Your river? Who are you?" she asked the shepherd.

"I am Nicholas Seymour," he said.

Darlington's warning came back to her, and she feared she had landed them all in the briers. "I suppose you are the earl's man come to clear the way for him," she said. There was nothing for it but to apologize and take themselves off before he inquired too closely into their actions. "I assure you we mean no harm. Until now this stretch of the Ashe has been ours to f—enjoy, and we came to say farewell to our favorite places before the earl arrives. Pardon us, please. We will gather our things and be gone, and your master will never be the wiser."

"I am not the earl's man," said Nick, annoyed by the girl's mistaking him for a servant and unready for their conversation to end. "I am Haverly, and by your own admission you are trespassers. Do you not know I can bring you up before the magistrate for such an act?"

Haverly. Bel paused to adjust her thinking. The Earl of Haverly was this … rude young man? "And would you, my lord, bring such as these before the law for their enjoyment of your river?" She gestured with a broad sweep of her arm at the children, who stood still as statues. Even the dog appeared cowed.

"Wouldn't I though. Don't think to excuse your intrusion by citing their innocence. You must see that you and your trespassing band of urchins have spoiled the fishing this day." There was a burst of laughter from one of the boys, and Nick turned to them. They stood in the stream, water dripping from their heads, rivulets gleaming on their arms and chests. Four pairs of blue eyes glared at him without any apparent fear of the law.

When he turned back to the girl, he saw beyond her on the opposite bank the rods and baskets and nets the trespassers had with them. "You're poachers, too, aren't you?" He looked at the boys again. The slim, dark-haired boy who reminded Nick of himself had the grace to look abashed, but the others appeared as maddeningly unimpressed with his power and position as the girl.

"You may think us poachers," said the girl, drawing Nick's attention back to her, "but you can hardly prove it."

"Then you'll show me what's in that net you've got anchored in the stream," Nick said.

The girl's eyes darkened, and she let her skirts fall into the water. "Certainly. Auggie," she said to the sturdiest, most sullen-looking of the boys, "show his lordship your net."

"But, Bel," the boy began.

"Do it," she ordered curtly.

The boy waded across the stream reluctantly, his long, angry strides sending ripples in every direction. Defiantly he seized the net and lifted it out of the shaded pool where it lay.

Inside gleamed four of the prettiest trout Nick had seen in a long time. He waded into the stream past the staring boys and the angry girl. As he passed her, he caught the scent of lavender.

"Not poachers?" he said, snatching the dripping net from the boy. "Still, it's a wonder such an unruly lot managed to take these fish."

The girl turned on him, and he found he couldn't move. He felt the stream's icy swirl at his knees, but his skin felt heated as if with a fever. 'Tell me, your lordship," she was asking, "precisely which portion of the river do you own?"

He didn't think she realized how close they stood. The stream tangled her skirts about her calves, and Nick had a sudden recollection of white sheets tangled about his own limbs. He felt a queer sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that made it hard to think.

"All the river from one end of Courtland to the other," he managed.

"So you own all the water in this pond?"

"Yes, of course, and what's more, Miss Rag Manners, all the fish."

"Though this morning this same water must have been Farmer Elworthy's, and this evening, perforce, it must become the squire's? Unless you can command the stream."

"Your logic only makes you the more guilty, ma'am, since you must have realized what you were about when you brought these children here and led them in crime."

"Crime! You accuse us of crime?"

The girl's outraged hauteur only angered Nick more. She seemed to think he was the offending party. "It is my right and mine alone to take from these waters whatever luckless trout happen to swim in them, and I'll have these fish, wherever you claim to have taken them." He hefted the net with its gleaming catch and started back across the pond.

Standing so close to the girl made his mind sluggish and his limbs weak.

"I hardly think your lordship can claim proprietorship over every trout that swims in the Ashe, and you cannot say with certainty whether these four came from your portion of the river or from another."

Nick stopped and looked at her. "Then perhaps you should take me to court, ma'am."

Bel hardly knew what overcame her in that moment. It was unreasonable to expect a mere stranger to understand the insult he had offered her family, but then she supposed he was the sort of man who held himself above his neighbors whoever they were.

"You provoking, rude, arrogant man! You're so puffed up in your own conceit that you cannot excuse a small trespass in the name of neighborliness. You might have welcomed these boys in friendship and let them in turn show you all they know of the river, for they know it well and can pull out a like catch any day they choose. Now—"

"They'd better not," interrupted Nick. "This is my land now. Disturb my peace again, drop one line into this stretch of the Ashe again, and I will have you up before the magistrate that very day."

"Very well," said the lady. She turned away and called to her charges, who came to her side in silence. While the boys pulled on shirts and jackets, the girl swung the child up onto a rock, dried his feet, and helped him into his shoes, heedless of her own damp gown. When the others had been attended to, she turned her back, squeezed out her skirts, and pulled on her own stockings and shoes.

Nick found he could not look away from this procedure though he could see little more than her angry back and her frowning relations. A few quick motions and the girl stood. She took the child in her arms, and sent the others off along the far shore.

Above the pond where the river narrowed, a great low branch looped across the stream, making a natural bridge. The tallest boy took charge helping them all across. When they reached Nick's side of the river, the girl turned back to him one last time.

"My lord," she said, "we have been remiss in introductions. We are the Shaws, you see." She said it as if she were proclaiming them royalty. "It will certainly interest Mr. Augustus Shaw, the magistrate, to hear what you have to say against his children and grandchildren. Good day."

She turned away, and the little band of children disappeared around the hill. But the voice of the youngest came back. "Was that man the earl, Auntie Bel?"

"Yes, Kit, he was," came the reply.

"But he's not old and gouty as Auggie told us."

"No," said the girl's voice, "but he is rude and haughty."

"Is that worse?" asked the child.

"Much worse," said the girl. Nick heard the confirming laughter of the others at her tone.

"He'll hear us, Bel," said another voice in warning.

"Let him hear."

Suddenly Nick was aware of Farre behind him, a witness to the whole encounter. He returned to the wooded edge of the stream and lowered the holding net into the cool water, anchoring it in place with a few stones.

"Farre," he said, "don't say a thing."

"Wouldn't dream of it, lad," said his companion cheerfully. Nick felt a light touch on his shoulder. Then Farre spoke again. "Beauties, aren't they. Wager you those boys never took that lot out of this hole."

Nick looked at the wide shallow pool that seemed so empty now that the Shaws were gone. He had routed the intruders. Why did he feel as if he'd lost a battle? "There's not a trout will rise again today after the commotion they made. I'll be lucky to get a fish this week."

"Nay, lad. You'll get one this afternoon, though I don't know how many we can eat. Come along. Let's see if we can find where the Shaws poached from you."

"Damn, I'm a fool," said Nick. Farre laughed. "That may be lad, but at least you introduced yourself to a lady."

Monday evening

Dear Tom,

We have met the Earl of Haverly, though I must confess our introduction was not what Mama might have wished.

Having a perfect day and good information that the earl had not yet arrived in Ashecombe, we dared to fish the Lower. Remember that Fanny and Louisa will descend upon us soon to spoil our summer, and forgive us for taking the risk. Auggie assures me you would have done the same.

The earl and a servant came upon us at the low pool just around the bend from the waterwheel. You know the place. You will hardly credit the insults the earl offered us or his arrogance in claiming the Ashe as his own. He threatened in the end to bring us before the magistrate, and you may imagine my satisfaction in telling him our connection to that person.

But, Bel, you will say, could you not find a way to make him welcome and win his friendship? I can only say that he is not what anyone expected and that one cannot welcome in friendship a man who begins by accusing one of misconduct. He used the word "crime" and suggested that I had led my innocent charges into poaching.

The worst of it is I have not the courage to approach Papa as he has weightier matters on his mind, what with the poor folk from Hilcombe coming to trial. He must be told, I suppose, before he attempts to make the earl's acquaintance, but I do not think they will soon meet as the earl is most high-handed and unlikely to take an interest in the neighborhood.

Auggie is hot for revenge, though Arthur and I have tried to dissuade him from such schemes as damming the Ashe at Eldon Barrow or loosing otters along the earl's banks. Still, I think revenge a most satisfying object of contemplation. The haughty earl should be forced to endure a Shaw dinner, he should be subjected to the toad-eating of Louisa and Fanny, he should face you in a regular mill and learn what it is to insult the Shaws. Trust me to think of some just retribution in your absence.

As ever,

Isabel

A WET, GUSTY STORM following close on the heels of Bel's meeting with the earl confined the younger Shaws to the schoolroom for three days, until at last it blew itself out, leaving shining tracks on all the lanes. Bel pulled a faded red pelisse about her shoulders, strapped on her pattens, and escaped.

Despite her teasing letter to Tom, she had dismissed revenge as a petty desire entirely unworthy of Miss Shaw of Shaw House. But a vengeful spirit had wedged itself firmly into some corner of her mind, refusing to be dislodged by the charades and conundrums, spillikins and paper cutouts with which she had occupied her siblings. It had not helped that Auggie referred sullenly and often to the fish he regarded as stolen from him by the earl. Even her parents' company could not distract her. Augustus and Serena Shaw had been absorbed in reviewing the evidence against a group of villagers who were accused of machine-wrecking.