Caroline saw that Lavender was emerging from her shell.
She found the two of them together in the library one morning when Julia had sent her downstairs to choose her a book. The fair heads were bent close together over what looked like an estate map, and Caroline paused on the threshold, reflecting on the strong family likeness and not wishing to intrude. Then Lewis looked up, tossed her a charming smile and rolled the map up.
“Miss Whiston! How are you, ma’am? My sister has just been showing me her sketches—she has been drawing flora over by Steepwood Lawn. Do you know that part of the forest at all from your walks?”
His tone was suspiciously bland, but since Steepwood Lawn was close to where the two of them had met on his first day home, Caroline knew that he must be teasing her. To her vexation, she felt the faint colour come into her cheeks. Lewis’s gaze was bright with amusement as it rested on her face, one brow quirked in enquiry, his blue eyes dancing.
“I believe I know the place a little,” Caroline said stiffly. She saw that Lavender was watching her with a gaze as perceptive as her brother’s and tried to overcome her discomfort. “Will you show me your sketches, Miss Brabant? I should like to see them very much.”
“Of course,” Lavender murmured, gesturing towards the pencil drawings scattered across the table.
Caroline looked, and forgot her self-consciousness. “But these are beautiful!” she exclaimed warmly. “I did not realise that you could draw so well, Miss Brabant!” She leant closer. “And unless I mistake, that is a May Lily! I had no notion that they grew in the woods hereabouts!”
Lavender’s eyes lit up. “Maianthemum bifolium; you are not mistaken, Miss Whiston, though they are rare. They prefer a light acid soil, you see, and only grow in certain parts of the forest.”
“And oxlip, and squill…” Caroline smiled as she drew the sheets towards her. “It is a while since I studied botany, but—”
“You studied botany?” Lavender’s face was eager. She looked animated and very pretty. Caroline, remembering how Julia had always dismissed Lavender’s fair looks as insipid, realised that they had all underestimated the younger girl. She smiled shamefacedly. “Well, my studies were only for my own enjoyment and most amateur! But I have a delightful book inherited from my grandpapa! It contains all the wild flowers and a wealth of detail. If you would like to borrow it—”
She broke off, aware that Lewis Brabant was watching her, a smile in his eyes. It made her feel as though the room was suddenly overheated. She looked hastily away. Fortunately Lavender appeared not to have noticed.
“Oh, Miss Whiston, thank you! That would be most pleasant!”
Lewis Brabant strode forward with a lazy grace. “It will be good for you to have another expert to talk to, Lavender, rather than a brother who is a dullard!”
Lavender laughed. “No such thing, Lewis! You are ridiculous!”
“Well, I assure you I cannot tell a petal from a stamen, but I do know that your drawings are very fine! Now, you must excuse me for I must be about estate business.” He paused with his hand on the doorhandle. “You will not forget the commission at Hammond’s for me, Lavender? Perhaps Miss Whiston might accompany you if she has any errands into Abbot Quincey?”
Caroline agreed readily. “I have some ribbons to buy for Mrs Chessford and a number of small purchases to make. If you do not mind waiting whilst I choose another book…”
She put the two volumes she was carrying down on the table and moved across to the oaken shelves to choose something else for Julia. Lewis picked up the books and perused their spines. He looked at her quizzically.
“Sense and Sensibility and Marmion! A curious mixture, Miss Whiston!”
“Oh,” Caroline felt flustered. “Sense and Sensibility is Mrs Chessford’s choice—”
Lewis raised his eyebrows. “You do surprise me, ma’am! So Julia reads the books on manners and morals, and you read the romance! How singular, when outward appearances would suggest otherwise!”
He put the book in his pocket. “I should like to read Marmion again…” He raised a hand in farewell. “You must join us for dinner tonight, Miss Whiston. No more skulking in your room!” And he left Caroline feeling confused and annoyed, and suspicious that she had glimpsed more than a hint of speculation in Lavender’s eyes.
The walk to Abbot Quincey was very pleasant, though the roads were a little muddy after the recent rain. It was the first fine day of the week, and Julia had roused herself sufficiently to take the carriage and go to visit friends near Northampton. She had dismissed Caroline, telling her that she did not need her when there was other, more congenial company to be had, which left her companion feeling more than ever sorry to be the butt of Julia’s bad manners.
Lavender Brabant was a different matter, however, and there was certainly no faulting her courtesy. They talked of botany and art as they walked, and found that they had plenty of interests in common to make the journey pass quickly. Lavender’s companionship was stimulating after Julia’s trivial gossip, and Caroline felt her spirits lift at being out in the fresh air. They reached Abbot Quincey to find that it was busy, despite not being a market day, and strolled down the main street to pause before Hammond’s general store and admire the new frontage. Lavender giggled over the fanlight and huge bow windows.
“Oh dear, it looks a little excessive for a country town! I understand that Mr Hammond has modelled it on his store in Northampton, and is as proud as proud! Only look, dear Miss Whiston—he has festooned the doorway with his muslin and kerseymere! I do so hope he will not get mud on it!”
They were about to enter the shop when they were hailed from close quarters by a cadaverous gentleman with an eager eye. Lavender gave Caroline a speaking glance, ducked under the swathes of drapery and disappeared into Hammond’s interior. Caroline sighed and turned to greet the newcomer, trying to compose her face into an expression that was pleasant without being too welcoming.
“Mr Grizel. How do you do, sir?”
Hubert Grizel was curate of a neighbouring parish and had recently preached at the church in Abbot Quincey, on the invitation of the Reverend William Perceval. From the moment Caroline had seen him in church, she had identified him as the perfect example of a worthy clergyman looking for a consort. From the moment he had clapped eyes on Caroline, it was evident that Mr Grizel thought that he had found her. He had called at Hewly, not once but several times, and Julia had made sport of his pastoral visits until Caroline was very uncomfortable. She had no wish to encourage the cleric, but equally no desire to embarrass him.
“Miss Whiston!” Mr Grizel’s thin face flushed with pleasure. He removed his hat, gave a gallant bow and looked as though he were about to topple over. “How are you, ma’am? You look very well, if I may make so bold! I had been intending to call at Hewly, but the weather being as it has—” He gestured vaguely towards the muddy road.
Caroline smiled. “I am very well, I thank you, sir, as are all at the Manor. There has been little change in the Admiral’s condition. But you will perhaps have heard our good news? Captain Brabant is returned—”
Mr Grizel had indeed heard all about Lewis Brabant’s return. “I am relieved that the Captain is home safely from the wars,” he observed pompously, “and am more than ever comforted that you ladies are no longer unprotected.
