Sophie, he noticed, listened intently through it all. Did she know the matchless peace that came from God’s merciful grace—sending His Son to die to pay the price for mankind’s sins, so all might live with Him, forgiven, forever?
He hoped and prayed she did.
chapter 13
The day of the picnic arrived, and Stephen found himself both anticipating and dreading it at the same time. He doubted he had the courtly manners to eat dainties on his lap without spilling and help ladies with their parasols over rough ground, all the while keeping up a pleasant flow of polite conversation. His ideal day out-of-doors would be spent fishing or hunting, stopping to drink water from a stream when he was thirsty, and when he felt hungry, to eat a pie wrapped in waxed paper begged from Mrs. John’s kitchen. Stephen sighed, dressed himself in trousers and tweed, and decided to make the best of it.
The weather was fine and the wood not far off, so the party gathered in the hall to walk to Norcombe Wood together. Stephen looked forward to the exercise, which would no doubt rouse their appetites. Mrs. Hill, however, arranged for a horse and wagon to carry the hampers of food and drink, and a footman to serve it.
Together, the five of them walked beneath the entrance gate and strolled down the lane into the open countryside. Daffodils bloomed among the trees, and birdsong punctuated the peaceful silence. Newborn lambs cavorted in the meadows while bored-looking ewes chewed and bleated. Stephen relished every sight. Perhaps no artist would be eager to paint this landscape, but to him it was a beautiful scene. It was home. He was proud to think his family owned a great deal of the land stretching in all directions.
He hoped Sophie liked what she saw as well, that she would come to love this place as he did. He glanced at her, noticing she wore an elegant lilac dress and white spencer, her gloved hands clasped behind her back. Honeyed strands of hair escaped her bonnet and gleamed in the sunlight. He swallowed, and shifted his gaze.
Angela Blake also looked stylish in a green and buff dress and bonnet, her parasol wavering in the spring breeze. He saw scant vestiges of the reedy girl with red plaits who had shadowed him and Wesley growing up, sometimes beating them at their own races and games. Lieutenant Keith, Stephen noticed, remained near her side.
After about a mile, they crossed a stone bridge and turned into Norcombe Wood. They halted at the edge of a clearing bordered by a stream—one of his favorite spots to fish. In fact, there was a man on the bank now, casting a line into the water. The figure turned, and Stephen recognized young Mr. Harrison.
“How delightful!” Kate beamed and called a greeting. Mr. Harrison waved in reply.
Miss Blake sent Stephen a sidelong glance, eyes innocently wide. “What a fortunate coincidence.”
Stephen doubted it.
Kate hurried ahead, and Angela called after her, “You must invite him to join us, Kate!”
Stephen did not miss the mischievous slant of her smile.
“Are you acquainted with Mr. Harrison?” Sophie asked, looking from him to Miss Blake and back again.
Stephen nodded, eyes narrowed. He knew Mr. Harrison, of course, but not well. With his mother’s disapproval in mind, he did not wish to encourage the man where his sister was concerned.
Sophie’s hand on his arm surprised him. She whispered, “You’re not going to send him away, are you?”
Stephen met her hesitant gaze with a wry grin. “I am not so ill-mannered, I assure you.”
“Good.”
She dropped her hand, the feathery warmth of her fingers disappearing. He should have reacted more quickly—laid his hand over hers—but it was too late.
The groom helped carry over the hampers and spread the picnic blankets, then returned to the horse and wagon while the footman remained behind to serve.
Keith offered to hold Miss Blake’s parasol while she sat down and arranged her skirts. Then he dispatched a trespassing insect from the blanket as though a sworn enemy. Stephen studied Angela’s reaction, trying to gauge if she minded the man’s attentions. His former lieutenant could be overbearing at times, especially when drinking, but it was early in the day and he had yet to start. Angela’s expression remained benign as she regarded Keith, apparently tolerating his attentions as one tolerates warm licks from an overeager pup.
Stephen sat near Sophie, feeling awkward, unsure what to do with his long legs. Sophie tucked hers beneath herself with enviable ease. Mr. Harrison looked awkward himself, standing there with his fishing rod and empty pail.
“No luck, Mr. Harrison?” Miss Blake asked with a smile.
He shook his head. “Not today.”
“He’d finally hooked one,” Kate apologized, “but it got away when we interrupted him.”
Mr. Harrison shrugged. “A small sacrifice for the pleasure of your company.”
Miss Blake patted a spot on the blanket between herself and Kate. “Do sit down.”
With a questioning look at Stephen, Mr. Harrison set aside his gear and complied. “Thank you for inviting me to join you.”
Kate motioned to the feast before them. “We have plenty to share.”
