pounds in a good year. “Where I come from, it’s considered unladylike to perform in public.”
“I’ll teach you some of our Manx songs,” he offered. “Till my arm mends, I’m not able to play. But I can lead singing.”
“When you’re stronger,” she replied. “You should sleep now. Later, I’ll read to you from a comic play or a novel.” She always traveled with the works of her literary acquaintances, Mrs. Inchbald and Mrs.
Robinson.
“Ta , I’d like that.”
She smoothed his sheets and fluffed his pillow, and left his chamber in a happier frame of mind.
For two days she’d been confined to the cottage, deprived of exercise, and was eager to resume her explorations. She intended to walk farther up the glen and view more of the natural beauties that had enticed her to make this her temporary home. And she needed to get away before Mainshtyr Dare, as Ned called him, arrived at Glencroft. The less she saw him, the better.
She had strolled only a short distance along the streamside lane when she met a Manxwoman leading a longhaired, sharp-horned brown goat. Smiling, she expressed her admiration of the exotic beast, and was startled when the barefoot crofter handed her the rope.
“I don’t want it,” Oriana protested. “Oh, dear.”
“Croit ny Glionney?”
“Yes— ta . That’s where I live. But—”
“I take her. You keep, Benainshtyr. Good goayr, this one.” The woman held up four fingers. “Foor skillin.”
A milking cow, a goose, and now a goat—the oddest she’d ever seen.
Walking onward, she laughed softly. Her noble cousins and Harri Mellon and the Earl of Rushton would be incredulous to hear that Ana St. Albans was collecting animals in place of admirers.
Chapter 5
Dare didn’t crawl out of his bed until midday, and felt much better for the many hours of uninterrupted sleep. Wingate shaved him, helped him dress, and reported the latest developments in the persistent quarrel between his cook and the local butcher.
“Mrs. Crellin complains again that the kitchen floor tilts, sir.”
“Assure her that all the floors in the villa are perfectly level.”
“Indeed, sir. But she’s sure to ask when you intend to leave this house.”
“I’m damned if I know.” Wingate held up a gray riding coat, and Dare slid his arms into the sleeves.
Crossing to the mirror, he studied his appearance. His need to look his best today was rooted in his desire to secure Mrs. Julian’s forgiveness. She dressed so exquisitely, perhaps the right combination of garments would help him win his way into her good graces.
He was sure she would be impressed by the horse he rode. Envoy was one of the most recognized—and coveted—animals in the island. An aristocrat among equines, the black had exceptional conformation and a showy gait.
His enemy the goose heralded his arrival at Glencroft, waddling and honking, her wings flapping madly.
A shaggy Manx goat tied to the tethering ring began to bray.
“When did that beast take up residence here?” Dare asked Danny Corkhill.
“Mrs. Gill brought it a while ago, saying the mistress offered four shillings for’t. Mrs. Stowell gave her the money.”
Dare found the housekeeper in the kitchen kneading dough.
“Neddy’s much better today,” she informed him. “No wonder, for the mistress spent the morning singing to him.”
“Singing?”
“A voice like an ainle, she has. I didn’t think to hear such sounds till I get to heaven. Maybe it’s because she eats so strange. Won’t touch red meat, only fish and fowl. I’m thinking that’s why her skin is so white and fine.” She wiped her flour-caked hands on a linen cloth, saying, “I’ve made oatcakes, Mainshtyr—tell Neddy I’ll bring them up with some buttermilk, soon as I set my loaves to rise.”
Going to the spare bedchamber, Dare was delighted to find the young miner sitting upright, supported by his pillows.
“Here’s an improvement,” he commented, drawing the armchair
“I’ll teach you some of our Manx songs,” he offered. “Till my arm mends, I’m not able to play. But I can lead singing.”
“When you’re stronger,” she replied. “You should sleep now. Later, I’ll read to you from a comic play or a novel.” She always traveled with the works of her literary acquaintances, Mrs. Inchbald and Mrs.
Robinson.
“Ta , I’d like that.”
She smoothed his sheets and fluffed his pillow, and left his chamber in a happier frame of mind.
For two days she’d been confined to the cottage, deprived of exercise, and was eager to resume her explorations. She intended to walk farther up the glen and view more of the natural beauties that had enticed her to make this her temporary home. And she needed to get away before Mainshtyr Dare, as Ned called him, arrived at Glencroft. The less she saw him, the better.
She had strolled only a short distance along the streamside lane when she met a Manxwoman leading a longhaired, sharp-horned brown goat. Smiling, she expressed her admiration of the exotic beast, and was startled when the barefoot crofter handed her the rope.
“I don’t want it,” Oriana protested. “Oh, dear.”
“Croit ny Glionney?”
“Yes— ta . That’s where I live. But—”
“I take her. You keep, Benainshtyr. Good goayr, this one.” The woman held up four fingers. “Foor skillin.”
A milking cow, a goose, and now a goat—the oddest she’d ever seen.
Walking onward, she laughed softly. Her noble cousins and Harri Mellon and the Earl of Rushton would be incredulous to hear that Ana St. Albans was collecting animals in place of admirers.
Chapter 5
Dare didn’t crawl out of his bed until midday, and felt much better for the many hours of uninterrupted sleep. Wingate shaved him, helped him dress, and reported the latest developments in the persistent quarrel between his cook and the local butcher.
“Mrs. Crellin complains again that the kitchen floor tilts, sir.”
“Assure her that all the floors in the villa are perfectly level.”
“Indeed, sir. But she’s sure to ask when you intend to leave this house.”
“I’m damned if I know.” Wingate held up a gray riding coat, and Dare slid his arms into the sleeves.
Crossing to the mirror, he studied his appearance. His need to look his best today was rooted in his desire to secure Mrs. Julian’s forgiveness. She dressed so exquisitely, perhaps the right combination of garments would help him win his way into her good graces.
He was sure she would be impressed by the horse he rode. Envoy was one of the most recognized—and coveted—animals in the island. An aristocrat among equines, the black had exceptional conformation and a showy gait.
His enemy the goose heralded his arrival at Glencroft, waddling and honking, her wings flapping madly.
A shaggy Manx goat tied to the tethering ring began to bray.
“When did that beast take up residence here?” Dare asked Danny Corkhill.
“Mrs. Gill brought it a while ago, saying the mistress offered four shillings for’t. Mrs. Stowell gave her the money.”
Dare found the housekeeper in the kitchen kneading dough.
“Neddy’s much better today,” she informed him. “No wonder, for the mistress spent the morning singing to him.”
“Singing?”
“A voice like an ainle, she has. I didn’t think to hear such sounds till I get to heaven. Maybe it’s because she eats so strange. Won’t touch red meat, only fish and fowl. I’m thinking that’s why her skin is so white and fine.” She wiped her flour-caked hands on a linen cloth, saying, “I’ve made oatcakes, Mainshtyr—tell Neddy I’ll bring them up with some buttermilk, soon as I set my loaves to rise.”
Going to the spare bedchamber, Dare was delighted to find the young miner sitting upright, supported by his pillows.
“Here’s an improvement,” he commented, drawing the armchair
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