Elizabeth Mansfield by Matched Pairs Page A

nose.”
    “Yes,” Julie sighed, despairing, sitting down beside him, “I see what you mean.”
    Tris turned to her. The light was now bright enough for him to see her plainly. Despite her plaited hair and shabby robe, she was undoubtedly a lovely girl. “It’s you who must be wed, Julie,” he said, taking her hands. “And quickly too.”
    She snorted. “Now you’re grasping at straws. Who is there to wed me?”
    “I don’t know. Isn’t there anyone in all of Derbyshire who’s caught your eye?”
    “You know perfectly well there isn’t. Except of course...”A picture of Lord Canfield astride his horse, with rain pouring from the brim of his beaver, flew into her mind. “No, no,” she muttered, shaking her head vigorously, “he wouldn’t ... he couldn’t—No... it’s impossible.”
    Tris’s eyebrows lifted in immediate interest. “There is someone? Who?”
    “No one. Nobody. Never mind. I was just jabbering. There’s no one.”
    But he could see her cheeks redden. “Come now, my dear, this is no time to be coy. Tell me!”
    “I’m not being coy,” she declared, wrenching her hands from his hold and turning away. “It was very silly of me to even think of him.”
    He forced her to face him. “Think of whom?” he insisted angrily. “If I agree that it’s really a silly thought, I’ll drop the subject forever. I won’t tease you, I promise.”
    She lowered her eyes. “A gentleman has bought Wycklands,” she murmured. “His name is Canfield. Peter Granard, Viscount Canfield.”
    “Ah!” Tris grinned a wide, eager grin. “Canfield, eh? And you like him, do you?”
    “How can I say? I’ve scarcely met him.”
    “Then why did you think of him in this connection?”
    “Because he’s a new face in the neighborhood. And because he asked me to dance. And because he’s... he’s ...”
    “What?” Tris prodded. “Because he’s what?”
    “Because,” she burst out, “he’s absolutely the most glorious man I’ve ever laid eyes on, that’s what!”
    “Well, well!” Tris chortled. “Will wonders never cease! A glorious man, eh? And he danced with you?”
    Julie lowered her head. “He only asked. Mama didn’t let him.”
    “Of course she didn’t,” Tris muttered. “I should have known.”
    “So you see, it’s all quite hopeless,” Julie said.
    He lifted her chin and smiled down at her. “No, it isn’t. I’m home now. I shall make it my task to meet this fellow and arrange some social events. Then I’ll fix you over, dress you properly and teach you to flirt. And then, my shy Miss Branscombe, we shall see what we shall see.”
    “Oh, Tris, don’t be such a fool. You can’t mean ... I couldn’t possibly—”
    “Yes, you can.” He beamed down at her, his eyes shining in eagerness to meet the challenge he’d set himself. “What do you wager I’ll make you Lady Canfield? I tell you, Julie, we’ll have you wed to him before the month is out.”
     
     

 
     
    9
     
     
    With a head full of plans, Tris left Larchwood and went home to Enders Hall to inform his mother that he was back. Though he intended to return to London sooner or later, he told her, he would remain at home for an indefinite—in fact an extended—stay. Then, despite the fact that it was seven in the morning, he kissed her cheek and went off to bed.
    Lady Phyllis was beside herself with delight. She scurried across the fields to Larchwood as soon as she’d breakfasted. “Perhaps we won’t have to subject Julie to a London come-out after all,” she chortled to Madge Branscombe.
    Lady Branscombe was skeptical. “Perhaps. But let’s see how the two of them get on this time before we become too hopeful. What I’d like to know is why the boy has returned from London so soon. And why he’s here for an ‘extended’ stay.”
    “Yes,” Lady Phyllis agreed, her joyous mood somewhat dampened, “now that you mention it, so would I.”
    Tris spent the next six hours catching up on his sleep. But