Page 33 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

“Miss Ames, how delightful to see you.” Virginia Calvert, the Countess of Annesbury, carried herself with the poise and grace one would expect of a princess. It often startled people to find out she had six children, ranging in age from twenty down to three years old.

“Thank you, my lady. It has been some time since I visited.” Daisy took the chair Lady Annesbury gestured to, prepared to begin her conversation with speaking of the fair. That was the topic most on people’s lips at the moment, after all.

Lady Annesbury spoke first. “I have not been to the vicarage of late, either, but I was planning to send word to you this very day and ask for a visit.” Her deep green eyes sparkled and she leaned forward, almost with excitement. “My cousin, Mrs. Gilbert, came yesterday and told me about your plans for a school. The idea has taken a strong hold on me, and I am terribly envious I did not have it first. I hope you will let me help you.”

It was as though a vice binding her heart loosened with those words. Daisy stared at her ladyship for a long moment, too startled to speak. Finally, she found her voice again. “You think it a good idea?” she asked at last, her question nearly a squeak. Her whole plan for the conversation dissipated. “Oh, I am so relieved, my lady. I have spent the entirety of the last two days trying to decide how to speak to you about the school.”

“Leave it to Christine Gilbert to take the business of others in hand,” the countess said with a gleam in her eye. “My cousin devotes herself to people and causes, and as you have given her both she wasted no time in championing you. If you tell me what I can do to help, I will do it. May I have your permission to speak to others of the idea? I have several friends in the neighborhood who will likely be interested, too.”

Daisy had to clasp her hands together firmly in her lap to keep them from fluttering about like excited birds. “Of course, my lady. Allow me to tell you the particulars of my plan.” She stayed longer than the quarter of an hour expected of guests, and the countess asked several questions. She even retrieved a sheet of paper and pencil to take some notes, making certain she understood the manner in which the girls would be taught and what would be considered essential skills.

“I am impressed by you, Miss Ames.” The countess put the pencil down in her lap and regarded Daisy carefully, her eyebrows raised and her expression most cheerful. “Most young women your age are not thoughtful of the less fortunate. I have but one concern for the whole venture. What will happen to the school when you marry?”

As her own father had voiced this worry, Daisy had an answer. “I have no intention of marrying at present, my lady. If I should change my mind one day, a great deal would depend upon the gentleman.” For some reason, Harry Devon’s crooked grin came to mind.

Daisy tried to put thoughts of him away, but the memory of him holding her injured hand and binding it with his handkerchief added itself to her thoughts.

“Your own children will take precedence over the daughters of others.” The countess rose to return her paper and pencil to the little desk in the corner of the room. She stood still for a moment, elegantly framed by a tall window. “As you say, you have no present plans. If anything changes in that regard, please let me know. I will speak to my friends, and perhaps we could hold a meeting in a fortnight with those who are interested in assisting. When do you hope to start?”

“January,” Daisy answered firmly. “Many of the girls will have nothing to do at home and their brothers will be attending the National School run by Mr. Haskett.”

“It is a shame they cannot all be educated together.” The countess returned to her seat with a sigh. “The old Sunday Schools started out with boys only, but they allowed girls in after a time. I kept hoping our local school would do the same.”

Daisy twisted the strings of her reticule. “Thank you for your time today, my lady.”

“The pleasure was sincerely mine.” Lady Annesbury rose and gestured to the door. “Do you intend to enjoy the fair this year, Miss Ames? My husband has already promised to take our children to look at everything each day. I am not certain who will tire of the arrangement first.”

Daisy laughed. “I remember extracting similar promises from my father. Yes, I hope to spend a little time enjoying the general excitement of the event. It is so important to our farmers and community. Good day, my lady.”

“Good day, Miss Ames.”

After taking her leave, Daisy exited the house with the bounce returned to her step. She took out the leaf she had claimed and twirled it between her fingers again, this time unable to hold back her grin of delight. She would press the leaf between the pages of her journal at home. The day was one to be remembered happily.

When she stepped onto the lane, beginning her walk home, Daisy listened for horse-hooves on the road. Not that she was looking for anyone in particular, but it was near the time she’d encountered Harry before. And if he wished to go anywhere in the county, he would have to start his journey on that very road.

She made it home without sight of him, but he stayed in her thoughts. Was he truly staying at Whitewood? For how long? And why did her heart’s rhythm increase when she thought upon him, or heard others speak his name? It was nonsensical. It wasn’t as if she cared for him—beyond friendship. Yet telling herself that, as often as she had, did nothing to decrease the tightness in her chest, the warmth in her cheeks, when she though about his kindness, the way he listened to her as if what she said was always of great interest and importance.

His esteem meant a great deal to her, his attentions lifted her spirits. At times, when they spoke alone, she wished their conversations needn’t ever end. It was a selfish thought, vain and foolish.

His being here is good for the community.

That was all that mattered.

Chapter Twelve

The somewhat musty smell of sheep wool in the sunshine wasn’t particularly enjoyable, but as Harry’s new steward had informed him they could use more livestock on the property, he stood outside a large pen full of the bleating animals. He wasn’t making the purchases himself, of course, but observed how the process went. After several ewes and a ram had been deemed good enough for his flock by an elderly shepherd, Harry paid the bill. He shook hands with the old man who had possibly more fingers than teeth.

“Thank you, Moore. I appreciate your expertise in this matter.”

“Not at all, Mr. Devon. I’ve been keeping sheep for your family for fifty-three years. I wouldn’t ever lead you astray.” He tipped his cap, then lifted the crook he’d carried with him. He called to his great-grandson, a boy of twelve, who hurried to offer his shoulder for the old man to lean on.

The old shepherd had been pensioned off by Harry’s father and lived with his grandson, the current man in charge of the sheep. Harry watched them go, thinking of Daisy’s opinion on whether those men were sheep-herders or shepherds.

Daisy. Would she be present today? As it was a day dedicated to the buying and selling of livestock more than entertainment, he tried to put his hopes of seeing her aside. He wandered between pens full of animals, not really paying attention to where he was going, except to avoid walking into other people.

He left the animals behind for a smaller field, cleared to showcase plows and the like.

“Devon,” a voice called, pulling his attention out of his thoughts. A tall blond man waved at Harry from beside a shining, low phaeton. “You are just the man to give me an opinion.” It was the Earl of Annesbury, and Harry’s cousin-in-law, if there was such a thing.