Page 1 of The Trouble with a Dare

Prologue

Nineteen years earlier…

9th August 1820, Thistley House Farm, Sussex.

Sterling looked up at his father as they leaned against the wide gate, pride swelling in him. His Pa was as strong as an ox and could lift him with one hand, as if he was made of feathers. A fine figure of a man, that’s what folk said. At the grand age of seven years, Sterling worried he might never be as big and clever as his sire, but Pa said he wasn’t to worry on that score. His time would come.

“It’s a grand field, Pa,” he offered, seeing the crease of worry between his father’s thick, dark eyebrows.

His warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners, the afternoon sun making him squint whilst he surveyed the new land. He’d paid for it that very morning and had grand plans for the farm. If Pa had his way, it would be the biggest, most successful hereabouts.

“Aye, ’tis,” Pa said.

Pa never said much, but he always made a deal more sense to Sterling than anyone else he knew. Pa had a way of explaining things so that Sterling understood. Ma was different. Complicated. Sterling could never seem to do things quite right for her and she’d as like clip him round the ear for getting beneath her feet as talk to him.

“Who’s that?” Sterling asked, climbing higher on the gate and noting with a surge of indignation that there were folk walking about in Pa’s field. His father chuckled and gave him a wink.

“Courting couples, lad. Don’t you mind them.”

“What are they doing?” Sterling asked, curious.

“Picnic,” Pa said succinctly.

“She’s awful pretty,” Sterling whispered, feeling the need to lower his voice to express such an opinion as he pointed to one of the young women in the field. To his eye, the woman was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen in his life. Her hair was as golden as a field of ripe wheat, with yellow curls clustered about her face, and she wore a dress of sky blue the like of which he’d never seen before.

“She’s a lady.”

His father made this pronouncement as though he’d informed Sterling he’d just seen a unicorn, or some other rare mythical beast.

“Like Ma?” Sterling asked, a little confused. “You married her because she was a lady, didn’t you?”

Pa returned a wry smile which Sterling did not quite understand, but he did not answer the question. Pa crouched down, so he was eye-to-eye with his son, and Sterling knew at once that what he said next would be a secret between them. Pa didn’t talk much to most folk, but he sometimes talked to Sterling. Sometimes he told him things which were important, but which he wasn’t to tell Ma. These were things he needed to remember and keep to himself.

“Your ma don’t approve of my plans, Sterling, so this is between us. But you, my lad, are going to take this family up in the world. Farther than I ever managed.” He laid his large, weathered hand on Sterling’s bony shoulder. “You are going to be better than me, better than my father and all afore him. You’ll have an education, the best I can afford and one day, you’ll marry a lady like that one.”

Sterling felt his eyes bulge in his head, as if they might pop out and roll down the slope of the field. Instinctively, he glanced back to where he could see the lady’s golden head above the gentle swaying of wildflowers and grass.

“Me?” he said, more than a little sceptical.

“Aye,” his father said with a grin. “You.”

“That gentleman is giving her flowers, Pa,” Sterling observed.

“Ladies like flowers,” Pa replied with a nod. “They like pretty things, pretty words. You need to learn how. Have to treat them careful, like.”

“Like a ripe pear, so it don’t bruise?”

“So it doesn’t bruise. Aye, that’s it.”

Sterling nodded gravely as Pa got to his feet.

“Right, this won’t do. I’ve work to do. You run along home now, lad, or you’ll get the switch for not doing your jobs. I’ll see you at supper.”

Sterling watched his father stride out of sight before turning back to climb the gate and steal a last peek at the lady in the field. She seemed to like the man’s flowers and was smiling at him, her cheeks all pink. The scene was like looking at a painting: the beautiful lady in her fine gown among the flowers, with the sunshine and the countryside spread out around her. It made something in his chest expand and fill with a strange sort of happiness that wasn’t just happiness but an ache inside him. It was a good ache, though, not like when he ate too many plums and his stomach twisted and hollered in protest.

Sterling wandered home with his head in the clouds and his feet in as many puddles as he could find. It had rained the day before and was still muddy in places. He liked the way the sun glittered on the puddles, turning dirty water into something sparkling and lovely. Along the way, he noticed the flowers growing in the meadows and by the side of the road. There were pretty yellow flowers and beautiful blue ones, and another, which was a long spike of purple. Sterling picked a big bunch and hurried back home. He’d give them to Ma. Pa said ladies liked pretty things. The beautiful lady in the blue dress had liked her flowers very much. Perhaps Ma wouldn’t give him the switch for dawdling.

He hesitated as he got to the gate that opened onto the farmyard, suddenly shy and uncertain. Ma didn’t look a bit like the lady in the field, and Pa hadn’t replied when Sterling had asked if she was a lady too.