Chapter 27: A Proposal

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        Four of the party that left for Richmond on Tuesday morning were ensconced comfortably inside Lord March’s well-sprung carriage, followed by a curricle driven by Mr Beaumont. Caroline was perched beside him, wielding a frilly parasol over her dark head and chatting excitedly about the al fresco luncheon in which they were invited by the Viscount’s aunt, Lady Dawning.“What does her ladyship look like?” she asked. “She’s not often in town, is she? Otherwise I would have seen her in an occasion or two.”

      Mr Beaumont glanced smilingly at her eager face. “Let’s see… She’s a plump little lady with a pleasant face and lilting voice. No, she’s not often in town on account of her husband’s frequent indisposition. They make such an odd pair, you know, his husband being a crusty old fellow while she’s very amiable and loves to entertain.”

        “She sounds like Lord March!”

        “Certainly, and she dotes on him so much. If anything, I dare swear he’d cajoled Lady Dawning into this al fresco luncheon!” 

        Miss Davis smiled rather abstractly and said that it was just like the Viscount to make them this delectable treat. In truth she could almost believe that Lord Stokeford had first put the notion on his friend’s head. That afternoon when they drove down to Richmond, Caroline remembered that she’d told the Earl how very much she’d love to go to a picnic… She sighed. It seemed so long ago now. Upon hearing Lord March’s invitation her spirits, which had not been at its best these days, soared instantly, only to be dampened by his next tidings. Lord Stokeford had unfortunately left the town already, and therefore could not come with them. The thought of not seeing him again made her heart twist — but it was too silly of her to indulge in a fit of blues when the view was so charming and the weather so glorious. The very least she could do was to appear cheerful!

       Dawn Hall was perched atop a low hill overlooking the sweeping Richmond Park, and surrounded by well-trimmed lawn and gardens with colourful flowerbeds. The party arrived at around eleven o’clock, and the ladies were instantly delighted by the charming prospect before them. Hurrying from the great house was a plump lady in the lighter shade of fifty, short in inches with remarkably youthful, beaming countenance, who instantly pounced on Lord March and gave him a smacking buss on the cheek. Not embarrassed by this display of affection, the Viscount returned the embrace and embarked on introductions. Her ladyship was already acquainted with Miss Carstairs and inquired pleasantly after her dear papa, the Viscount Mislington. This had brought a strained look on the young lady, but she nonetheless summoned a bright smile and said that her papa was in the town at present, and was enjoying a customary good health, as always.

        Next presented were Miss Winscott and Miss Davis, on whom her ladyship’s eyes had lingered for a while. Not impervious to handsome young men, she was very charmed to make Mr Cedric Milborne’s acquaintance, and made him flush a little by patting his cheek, saying: “Why, but you’ve a face of an angel, my dear!” At the end of it all, Lady Dawning embraced the company with her winning smile and exclaimed ecstatically that she didn’t know her nephew had such lovely young friends. 

        Entering the house, the buoyant hostess drifted alongside Mr Beaumont. The young man gallantly offered his arm, and her ladyship, smiling appreciatively, asked: “And where is that errant cousin of yours, Mr Beaumont?” 

        “Rusticating in the country, ma’am,” he replied with a grin, knowing very well that her ladyship had a soft spot for the Earl. “I suppose you’ve heard his latest, er, contretemps?”

        Her ladyship’s cheerful face shadowed fleetingly. “I have. With Wickham, yes? Heavens, but that stupid boy’s always anxious to court trouble! Stokeford, I mean. Not that I don’t believe young Wickham’s as blameless as a lamb, for everyone knows he most definitely isn’t! Dawson told me your cousin was shot in the arm. I hope he’s on the mend now. Such a great pity he couldn’t come, for I would dearly love to ring a peal over him.” The twinkle returned to her merry hazel eyes. “And how about you, my dear? Am I mistaken in believing that you have your eyes on that black-haired young lady? Is she the reason why you’d rushed down here and snipped off my beautiful flowers from their beds a fortnight or so ago?”

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