“Did your father teach you to play?” he asked her one evening as they set up the board.
“No, he was a cards man. Piquet, principally, but he would play any card game, especially if there was money to be won. My cousin Kent taught me to play chess when his brothers showed no aptitude for the game.”
“It is a slow game that does not suit everyone. Most people prefer cards, I suppose.”
“Too slow for Walter, perhaps. He learnt all the moves, but he never bothered to apply himself to improving. But Eustace — he would have played well, for he has a clever mind, and the patience to let a strategy play out to its end, but board games are not his strength. He confuses left and right, and so he frequently goes wrong. He could never play backgammon at all, for he would keep moving his pieces the wrong way. He can only play cribbage if someone else moves the pegs.”
Lord Tarvin laughed. “Poor fellow! How does he manage? Does he lose himself when he rides, or perhaps he takes a groom with him every time he ventures out?”
“At the end of his drive, he has‘Corland’painted on one gatepost and‘Stokesley’on the other, so he knows which way to turn. After that, his horse knows the way.”
“Truly? That I should like to see.”
“Oh, it is very subtly done, with ivy all round so no one notices, but the signs are there, all the same. Are you going to move, or shall we just sit here indefinitely?”
He laughed again, and moved a pawn briskly. “So tell me, why did your father leave your inheritance in so odd a way? That whole business of marrying a gentleman is rather insulting, as if he did not trust you to marry suitably.”
“And he did not,” she said, moving her own pawn.
“Why should he think so? Have you given him reason to mistrust you?”
She hesitated. That was a perceptive question! But there was no secret about Tom, after all. “There was a man… a woodworker from the village near Corland. Tom Shapman. I have been friendly with him and last year he went to my father and asked for my hand. Papa refused, naturally, but it must have been after seeing Tom that he wrote thisstupidwill.”
Lord Tarvin reached for a knight, then lowered his hand. “One can see his point. A woodworker is hardly a suitable husband for the niece of an earl. But why did he do it? The woodworker, I mean. You must have given him some encouragement.”
“Of course I encouraged him,” she burst out indignantly. “He would never have done anything about it if I had not.”
“But you would never marry him — would you?”
“I would far rather marry Tom than anyone else. At least he is a real man doing real work, not an idle, selfish, overdressed clodpole, like most gentlemen. He is so clever with his hands! He makes some wonderful things, but he spends so much of his life turning chair legs and making coffins and doors. More than anything, I want him to be able to let his artistic nature have full rein, which he will be able to do if he marries me. But unless I can somehow get my hands on my fortune without marrying anyone else, Tom is out of the question.”
She could not quite keep the regret out of her voice, and perhaps he noticed it, for he said sharply, “Then your father has succeeded in his aim of protecting you from fortune hunters.”
“Tom is no fortune hunter!”
“But he is by no means your equal, in rank, education or wealth,” he said dismissively. “Are you going to defend your bishop?”
“Pah!” she said, in annoyance, and was so cross with him that for once she played to win, and trounced him handily. They parted in an atmosphere of mutual dislike.
***
The replies from Lord Rennington, when they arrived, were not encouraging. To Tess he said only that the matter would be considered when she was suitably married, which thoroughly enraged her.
“Suitably married? Who is to be the arbiter of that if not myself? A gentleman, that is all that is required, and Ulric is a gentleman, is he not? And we are betrothed, and therefore as good as married, so why should I not have access to my own house? All I want is to see inside it. Is that so much to ask?”
Lord Tarvin wisely made no response to this diatribe. His own letter from the earl was longer, but no more helpful.
‘Lord Tarvin, While I appreciate your concerns, be aware that my niece will not be of age until May of next year, and therefore there is no urgency in the matter. My sister, while pleased that her daughter is inclined to comply with the terms of her father’s will, is by no means agreeable to granting permission for the match before then. In fact, given the volatile nature of my niece’s affections over the past year, it may well be that they will shift again before too long. For these reasons, I will not agree to any precipitate action. The house my niece has inherited is well tenanted by a respectable widow, and it has been agreed that she need not be disturbed unnecessarily. You will understand, therefore, that I must respectfully decline yourproposal at this time. If my niece’s intentions remain fixed over the next six months, then I shall reconsider my decision. Yours in friendship, Rennington.’
That set Tess off again. “Volatile! He thinks my affections may shift again, indeed! Well! So that is what he thinks of me. I am glad to know of it, but I shall not sully your ears with my opinion ofhim.”
Lord Tarvin laughed. “No, better leave it to the imagination. I confess, I am disappointed. You are officially betrothed, after all, so some discussion of settlements ought to be undertaken. Apart from the house, how much is this fortune of yours?”
“Eleven thousand.”
“That is not insignificant, yet it is what one might expect a chaplain to leave. I suppose this house comprises the bulk of his fortune. Is it a large estate?”
“It is not an estate at all, just an ordinary house in a small town.”
