The next day, the schedule in Sally's room indicated a picnic in the afternoon, and she chose to participate, since Emma and Henry would, too. When the group arrived at the appointed spot, Lady Tarrington's servants had set up screens against the wind, tents against the sun, and tables laden with food and drink. Grooms took the guests' horses to rest, water, and graze, while the party rested or wandered around the old hill fort to which Longford, as the local peer, acted as guide.
Emma had found a vantage point from which to sketch the village below, and Peter Tarrington was sitting close by, clearly content with the closer view. Perhaps something good would come of her fright yesterday, if that interest persisted, and meanwhile Sally had one less suitor to keep at arms' length.
Henry was strolling with her mother, Elf escorting them, carrying the wildflowers Henry kept stopping to pick. She pressed them and made pictures, fitting the petals, leaves, and grass stems into little animals and landscapes, which Sally thought beautiful and terribly clever. Elf looked up and saw Sally watching, but merely smiled and continued in his self-imposed task.
Sally looked out across the plains from atop a comfortable stone. Somewhere far in the distance, perhaps beyond the horizon, was Wellstone Grange, the principal seat of the Duke of Wellbridge. Would Toad come home for Christmas? And if he did, would the Haverfords and Wellbridges celebrate together, as they had for the whole of Sally's life?
She was interrupted by Richard Tarrington, playing the part of host with impeccable manners and a gleam in his eyes that hinted at a regard she could not return. "A penny for your thoughts, Lady Sarah."
They were not for sale at any price, but she pasted on her most pleasant smile and prepared to be civil. "It is a beautiful view, Mr Tarrington."
"Come now, Tarrington," Longford teased as he joined them. "You deserved such a commonplace response to such a low offer. Dear Lady Sarah, what thoughts will you give us for a gold guinea?"
Longford had been flirting with Sally all season, but she was well aware of the ironic edge to his pretended courtship. After all, less than a year ago, he used to pull her plait and call her a pesky brat.
"I think it is time for lunch, Lord Longford." Sally allowed Mr Tarrington to help her to her feet, and she tucked her hand into his arm with a saucy grin at her cousin, who tipped his hat to her and chuckled, saying to his brother Stocke, "Our little Princess is all grown, and harbouring secrets, I'll wager."
If she lifted her chin half an inch higher at the nickname that had haunted her childhood, she gave no other reaction. But she did allow Mr Tarrington to devote his attention to finding a nice shady spot for her to sit, not even pointing out that she liked sitting in the sun. And when he served her a plate far too full of sweets, when her preference was always for savouries, she thanked him politely and resolved to discourage the silly man later, when Longford wasn't watching.
Thankfully, both Tarrington brothers, plus every male in the vicinity, were soon drawn into a game of football organised by Longford and Stocke, with one brother heading each team.
"What are the rules?" Emma wondered, as the two mobs of men charged back and forth across the fort site, detouring into other fields to land the ball on the rocks the brothers had designated as goals.
"To strip to their shirtsleeves and show how muscular they are," Henry suggested, and her mother snorted a hastily swallowed laugh.
Grooms, footmen, gentlemen, and lords all looked much the same covered in mud, Sally decided, as they disappeared behind the carriages to clean up as best they could and don the outerwear they had discarded in favour of free movement during the game. Which had, Sally conceded as Elf helped her to mount her mare for the ride home, been very exhilarating.
Henry and Sally, escorted by Richard Tarrington and accompanied by a groom, joined the party taking the northern bridge, the route through the lands attached to Longford Court. As they passed the house, Longford and Stocke peeled off, but Elf declared, "I'll just join Tarrington to see Miss St James and Lady Sarah home. You've no objection, Tarrington?"
Tarrington glanced swiftly at Sally but smiled politely. "Not at all, Elfingham. You are welcome to join us."
They turned onto the western drive from Longford Court, to the road they needed to take to the Tarrington estate. "Mr Tarrington," Henry said, urging her horse ahead to ride beside the gentleman, "will we be seeing you in town next month, sir?"
This left Sally with Elf and the groom, and when they reached the gate at the top of the hill, Elf waved the groom ahead.
He suggested dismounting at the water trough, slightly off the road opposite the Longford lands. "Windstorm could do with a drink, and your mare, too."
Sally allowed Elf to assist her from the mare, blushing as he slid her down his body, and twisting her head so his attempted kiss landed on the rim of her hat.
"Elf!" she rebuked.
Elf released her immediately. "Lady Sarah, I mean no disrespect, I assure you."
Oh, dear. Her formal name. This could not be good.
"Are you staying in Gloucestershire for long, Lord Elfingham?"
"What? No. That is, I am just here to check on the mare I'm boarding with Longford until the steeplechase in Newmarket. The mare is staying, but I am returning to London. May I call on you back in Town? You are returning there, are you not?"
"I am meeting Mama and Papa there next week." Sally shot a sideways glance at Elf, whose face was set and determined. Oh, dear; oh, dear.
"I will travel by the railway from Cheltenham," Sally chirped brightly. "Papa is sending a private carriage. Isn't it wonderful to be in London the same day I leave? And the railway carriage is so comfortable, I mightn't be travelling at all."
She was prattling. She never prattled.
"I wish to call on you, for I have a particular question to ask," Elf continued, giving her attempted diversion as little attention as it deserved. "I imagine you can guess what it is."
"No!" It was nearly a shout.
"No?" Elf frowned. "You cannot guess?"
"No, I wish you would not, my lord. Truly."
Elf nodded, thoughtfully. "You are young, and your father has said he will not entertain offers for your hand this season. I understand that, Sally. I do, truly. But Miss St James said I should let you know my intentions are serious."
Henry said? Sally shot a dark look after her friend. She would have a word with her later.
"I will wait for you to be ready, Sally. But I could attend a thousand Seasons and not find a prettier girl, or one more suited to be the Winshire duchess; Miss St James quite agrees. She speaks very highly of you. Your loyalty to your friends is to be commended. And we have become friends, have we not? Since I escorted you to dinner before your ball and found my little cousin had become a lovely woman whilst I wasn't watching?"
"We are friends, Elf, and will continue to be so, I hope." Sally remembered a useful phrase from a novel. "And I am very sensible of the honour you do me."
Now. How to say 'no' clearly enough that he would desist.
"Will you give me leave to speak to your father, then? I would have done so first, but Miss St James advised me to consult your wishes."
In that case, Sally owed Henry her thanks. Papa had promised not to force her, but might be tempted to go back on his word given the advent of a future duke of impeccable reputation. Furthermore, a man her father looked on as an honorary nephew, and a favourite step-grandson of his own mother.
"I wish you would not, Elf. I have no—I do not think of you in that way. Please do not be offended. You are a very nice person, and will make someone an excellent husband."
"Ah." Elf focussed his gaze ahead. "Dismissed with faint praise. Am I not to have some hope, Sal?"
"Sally." Only Toad called her Sal, and that name on the lips of another man made her response more forceful. "And no, none at all." A little harsh, but true. "I am sorry, Elf."
"I see." He chewed briefly at his upper lip. "Miss St James will be upset I have distressed you. I should not compound the offense by begetting questions about—We had better catch up with the others. May I help you mount, my lady?"
They said nothing more until they were back on the road, but he leant over to stop her before she could ride off.
"Miss St James warned me I might not receive the reply I hoped for. I am disappointed, Sally, but I have not given up. We have had some wonderful times this year, have we not? You and I?"
"You insult me, my lord." Tears threatened. Sally could not see how to remain friends if Elf insisted on this pursuit. "I may be young, but I know my own mind, and I have said no." She nudged the mare into a walk and then a trot.
Elf caught her up a moment later. "Will you allow me to apologise? I did not intend insult. If my suit is offensive to you, there is nothing more to be said."
His voice was cold, and a glance sideways showed him white around the lips. Sally suddenly remembered some debutantes gossiping about his foreign grandmother, saying even a prospective dukedom could not make his family heritage palatable. Sally would hate Elf to think she was one of those nasty vixens.
"My heart is already engaged," she explained.
He turned to give her his full attention, clearly considering all the suitors who had waited on her this past Season. "Who—? Abersham! Abersham? The tabbies said... But I never listen to gossip."
Sally did not reply.
"I knew you were close as children, but he did not appear for your ball, and you never speak of him. Is he—you have an understanding? But then why is he—? Never mind. Forgive me. It is not my business."
He suddenly noticed that Sally had given up the battle with her tears, and crowded their horses together to put his arm around her, handing her his handkerchief.
"Ah, little cousin, I am so sorry. Here. Dry your eyes and tell Elf all about it. Or talk of something else if you prefer. I am at your service, Sally. If you will not have me for a husband, you shall yet have me for a loyal friend."