A Country Gentleman by Ann Barker

correspondence.
    ‘I take it the letter is from Stancross,’ his mother remarked. ‘Coffee, dear?’
    ‘No, I’ll stick to ale, thank you. Yes, it’s from Stancross, confirming that your goddaughter is coming, but giving us no idea of how, or whether we are to meet her, and if so, when.’
    ‘Give it to me,’ said his mother. He handed the letter across the table and she examined it carefully. ‘Yes, you are right,’ she said. ‘I suppose one cannot blame the man for being flustered, when one considers what he has endured. All the same, this is most awkward. Do you think that perhaps you ought to ride into Stamford and pay a visit to the George?’
    He pursed his lips. ‘Yes, it might be wise,’ he agreed. ‘Any conveyance bringing her from London will be most unlikely to avoid Stamford. I can leave instructions with the landlord to keepher there until he sends word to me.’ He got up from his place. ‘Just to be safe, I’ll send a servant to Peterborough as well.’
    ‘Pray heaven the poor girl won’t have got herself into any kind of difficulty,’ said her ladyship.
    ‘Would you care to wager a small sum on the chance?’ the earl asked ironically.
    ‘You are very unlikely to arrive at the George at exactly the same time as Lavinia,’ his mother pointed out, ignoring his last remark. ‘After you have left a message there, you can go and have a glass of wine with Sir Richard Wallis.’
    The earl laughed. ‘You sound exactly like my tutor, who used to promise me all manner of treats if I finished my Latin exercise. But it would be good to visit Richard. It must be several weeks since we last saw one another.’
    ‘He has been to London for the season,’ her ladyship replied. ‘It would do you good to go.’
    ‘It would be more likely to drive me mad,’ he answered frankly.
     
    The journey from Thurlby to Stamford was a very familiar one to the earl. When escorting his mother in the barouche, they took the road which led them through Market Deeping. Today, on horseback, he was able to take some short cuts across the fields, mostly on his own land. Mercifully, the day was a sunny one, unlike that on which he and his mother had discussed Lavinia’s arrival in his library.
    The dinner club of which he was a member met at the George on the third Sunday of the month, so his lordship was well known there and, as a consequence, was greeted with the utmost cordiality by the landlord. He took the man on one side and confided his errand.
    ‘I’ll certainly look out for the young lady,’ the landlord said, eager to oblige one who, although not so influential with regard to his fate as Lord Burghley, was nevertheless a valuable customer. ‘Do you know in what kind of conveyance she’ll be coming, my lord?’
    The earl grinned ruefully. ‘That’s the worst of it,’ he replied. ‘I don’t know when, or in what she’ll be making the journey. The whole matter has been very foolishly arranged.’
    ‘You can count on me to do the best I can, my lord.’
    ‘I’m obliged. Now, will you add to your kindness by bringing me a pint of home-brewed?’
    ‘At once, my lord.’
    Thurlby wandered into the inn yard, and stood holding his tankard, his broad shoulders propping up the door frame. It was true that he was not fond of London, but he liked the bustle and liveliness of this place. It would not be too much of a hardship to stand in the inn yard of the George with a pint in his hand, and watch the arrivals.
    He had almost drained his glass when he heard the sound of rattling wheels, jingling harness and the clopping of hoofs, and shortly afterwards, the London stage swept round the corner and into the yard. There were two male passengers on the roof, looking as if they were very well satisfied with their lot. Had it been the middle of winter, the earl reflected, it would have been a different story.
    The stage pulled to a halt and two lads ran forward from the stables to take charge of the cattle.