“Good morning, Sir Andrew.” She came forward and he swung the gate open for her. He offered her his arm, and Charlotte took it. He had done so before, and she liked the feel of his arm beneath her hand. They walked briskly toward their path.
“I understand that the occupants of the parsonage have been invited to dine again on the morrow,” he began. “I feel I should warn you that Lady Catherine is being particularly unbearable today.”
“What has her in a dither?” Charlotte asked curiously.
“Apparently, she has learned that Mrs. Collins may be with child. She is offended that the lady has not sought counsel from her patroness yet.”
They arrived in the clearing and Sir Andrew took his customary spot straddling the log. Charlotte sat next to him, turning to angle his body to look at him.
“Jane only confided her suspicions to us two nights ago.” Charlotte suspected the maid carried tales to the great lady. Did this confirm those suppositions?
“How did Lady Catherine manage to learn the information, then? If Mr. Collins knew, I am certain it would have been he who brought the information to her ladyship.”
Charlotte considered the shadow outside the parlor door that evening. “I believe Mrs. Collins has a nosey servant,” she said, quickly relating what she had seen. “Elizabeth saw it as well. We did not voice our concerns, but I could tell she shared them.”
Sir Andrew considered this. “Such knowledge could be used to our advantage in the future,” he murmured. “Now, tell me, has Miss Bennet been meeting with Mr. Darcy? He walks out every day after he has completed his work.”
“She has not mentioned anything since Saturday. We… exchanged words, and I believe she does not wish me to know when she encounters him on her rambles.” Charlotte glanced away. She did not wish to tell Sir Andrew of Elizabeth’s words. They still hurt.
“I am sorry to hear that.” He paused. “Today is April first.”
“You had best not attempt to prank me. I despise such antics.” She shuddered.
“Oh? And what, pray tell, could cause such a fearless, strong, poised lady to despise pranks?” Sir Andrew’s words were not mocking or censorious, but curious and kind.
“My brother John has an affinity for causing mischief. April first is his favorite day because he knows as long as he performs his pranks before noon, he will not be punished for them. He takes great pleasure in causing his sisters to scream. I will never forgive him for dumping spiders in my jewelry case or for replacing my hand cream withrealcream.”
Sir Andrew laughed, his form shaking with mirth. “A child after my own heart. Shall I tell you the best prank ever pulled on me?”
“Not by you?”
“No, for I could never come up with something half so devious as this. Do you wish to hear it?”
Charlotte nodded at him to continue.
“When I first inherited the baronetcy, I confess, I did not have the assurance and confidence I now possess. I was eager to please my peers, and as such, I became a target for pranks, jests, teasings, and more. One day in the spring, I received in the post an invitation on heavy, expensive paper. The card’s edges were gilt, and the embossed seal at the top appeared official.Tower of London,it read.Pleased to admit the bearer and friend to view the annual ceremony of the washing of the lions on Tuesday, April first, 1794. Visitors only admitted at the White Gate.Thrilled, I asked my closest friend to attend with me. He had another engagement, or so he claimed, and I went alone, only to find out that I had been pranked by several peers whom I called my friends. It was a manner of initiation, they claimed, and now that I had been welcomed to their group, I could do the same to other new heirs.” He shook his head. “I have never done anything of the kind, for I did not wish others to feel my mortification.”
“You do not seem one to be easily dismayed at a paltry trick.” Charlotte hoped to reassure him. Anyone might have fallen for such an elaborate ruse.
“I was not always as I am now. Most heirs to great estates and fortunes are taught all they need to know over long years of childhood, adolescence, and sometimes even into adulthood. I did not have that opportunity. I inherited a few short years after my father did, and in consequence I floundered. My dear grandmother helped; she kept those who would take advantageof me away, and I am forever grateful for her aid. It took many years for me to be comfortable in my life, and I am as you see me now.”
“You hide, still.”
Charlotte’s words caused a look of surprise, and he looked at her questioningly.
She tried to explain. “You do not behave around company as you do me. I would wager that the Sir Andrew I know is similar to the one Lady de Bourgh knows, though I cannot claim such intimacy with you as she. The Sir Andrew Lady Catherine sees is different. What of the other gentlemen at Rosings Park? Who do they see?”
His serious gaze caused her to shift uncomfortably until it devolved into a cheeky grin. “There is more to you than meets the eye,” he said. “The plain spinster possesses depth!” His tone mocked, and she bristled despite knowing his words were an attempt at deflection.
“I believe I shall return to the parsonage,” she said cooly, rising to her feet. “Thank you for your company, Sir Andrew.”
“Same time tomorrow, then?” he asked. She paused. She faced away from him, attempting to hide the hurt his words caused by standing tall and appearing sure of herself.
“No, I am otherwise occupied on the morrow.” She needed a day to sort her emotions and properly lock them away. She knew she could easily love Sir Andrew. Not the mocking man, but the gentleman she understood existed beneath his protective demeanor. He would not marry her, and she could not allow her rebellious heart free reign.
His reply sounded uncertain. “I am at my leisure, Miss Lucas. We can walk when you are free to do so.”
“I shall be free on Friday.” Her firm reply brooked no argument, and she walked away before he could reply further.
