really cannot accept the gift. I did no more than any other human being would have done in exactly the same situation. Anyone would have done as I did. Your jewels are far too expensive a reward. It is not possible for me to accept them. I hope you will understand.’
Mr Berkeley’s face fell. He certainly did not understand at all .
‘You disappoint me,’ he said. ‘I had thought that you would look nice in them. I wish you would change your mind and take them.’
‘I am a married woman, Mr Berkeley. Whatever would my husband say if he came home to find that I had accepted such an expensive present from another gentleman?’
‘Perhaps he would feel proud of what you had done?’ he asked, hopefully.
The suggestion was so preposterous that Kathryn had to laugh.
‘I am afraid not,’ she said, eyeing him sheepishly. ‘He is more likely to throw them out of the window – aye, and me after them, as like as not. No, Mr Berkeley – it will not do. Keep your jewels. I appreciate the thought but I really cannot accept them. But please,’ she continued, seeing that he was about to argue with her once again, and taking his hand shyly for a moment as she placed the little box back into it, ‘please don ’ t feel affronted by this. I should feel most sorry – grieved, in fact – were this to place a barrier between us. I know you meant well, and I should love to have been able to accept the gift. The jewels are most delightful and would look very pretty with an emerald gown of mine. But it is quite impossible for me to accept them, much as I might like to do so. Come – say you will still be friends with me and that you will accompany me into the garden to find Bob – I’m sure that he will not be too nice to accept a gift, even if I cannot say the same for his mama.’
Seeing that she was determined, though still not fully agreeing with her, Mr Berkeley decided to make the best of a bad job and seek out his young friend in the rather windswept garden instead. ‘Garden’ is perhaps too fine a word for the grounds surrounding Sandsford House – rather, the house was totally surrounded on three sides by some rough hummocky grassland, save for a small area of cultivation by a sunny south-facing wall, with the g ravel pull-in from the trackway forming its western edge. It was here that they immediately found Bob, who was in the process of trying to persuade Mr Berkeley’s tiger to allow him to try out the curricle’s credentials for himself.
Mr Berkeley immediately swept him off his feet and threw him into the passenger seat.
‘Come on then, Master Bob,’ he bellowed, the delight on the young lad’s face providing a sharp contrast to the regret on his mama’s. Mr Berkeley leapt up into the curricle beside him. ‘Let’s go for a drive, shall we?’ – and, much to Bob’s evident immense delight, in a single flick of the long whip the horses set off at a sharp trot, with Mr Berkeley shouting to Kathryn that they should only be gone for a moment, and that he would be sure to take care and not drive too quickly.
Kathryn could not help but smile, despite her annoyance with him. She had been right about him remaining a child himself. He had certainly not yet grown up sufficiently to know what would do, and what would not. In a contrary sort of a way it was this child-like naivety that she was finding so compelling about him. He was spontaneous, warm, generous, unfettered, doing whatever happened to come into his head at the time. It certainly had the effect of drawing her unconsciously towards him and, perhaps not for the first time, she realised that it could also make him a very dangerous gentleman for her to befriend .
But at least he was true to his word, for within the space of a very few minutes he was back, laughingly lifting Bob from the carriage and setting him down on the gravel at the front door once again.
‘Now, you go inside and see your mama,’ he urged him. ‘She may have something
Mr Berkeley’s face fell. He certainly did not understand at all .
‘You disappoint me,’ he said. ‘I had thought that you would look nice in them. I wish you would change your mind and take them.’
‘I am a married woman, Mr Berkeley. Whatever would my husband say if he came home to find that I had accepted such an expensive present from another gentleman?’
‘Perhaps he would feel proud of what you had done?’ he asked, hopefully.
The suggestion was so preposterous that Kathryn had to laugh.
‘I am afraid not,’ she said, eyeing him sheepishly. ‘He is more likely to throw them out of the window – aye, and me after them, as like as not. No, Mr Berkeley – it will not do. Keep your jewels. I appreciate the thought but I really cannot accept them. But please,’ she continued, seeing that he was about to argue with her once again, and taking his hand shyly for a moment as she placed the little box back into it, ‘please don ’ t feel affronted by this. I should feel most sorry – grieved, in fact – were this to place a barrier between us. I know you meant well, and I should love to have been able to accept the gift. The jewels are most delightful and would look very pretty with an emerald gown of mine. But it is quite impossible for me to accept them, much as I might like to do so. Come – say you will still be friends with me and that you will accompany me into the garden to find Bob – I’m sure that he will not be too nice to accept a gift, even if I cannot say the same for his mama.’
Seeing that she was determined, though still not fully agreeing with her, Mr Berkeley decided to make the best of a bad job and seek out his young friend in the rather windswept garden instead. ‘Garden’ is perhaps too fine a word for the grounds surrounding Sandsford House – rather, the house was totally surrounded on three sides by some rough hummocky grassland, save for a small area of cultivation by a sunny south-facing wall, with the g ravel pull-in from the trackway forming its western edge. It was here that they immediately found Bob, who was in the process of trying to persuade Mr Berkeley’s tiger to allow him to try out the curricle’s credentials for himself.
Mr Berkeley immediately swept him off his feet and threw him into the passenger seat.
‘Come on then, Master Bob,’ he bellowed, the delight on the young lad’s face providing a sharp contrast to the regret on his mama’s. Mr Berkeley leapt up into the curricle beside him. ‘Let’s go for a drive, shall we?’ – and, much to Bob’s evident immense delight, in a single flick of the long whip the horses set off at a sharp trot, with Mr Berkeley shouting to Kathryn that they should only be gone for a moment, and that he would be sure to take care and not drive too quickly.
Kathryn could not help but smile, despite her annoyance with him. She had been right about him remaining a child himself. He had certainly not yet grown up sufficiently to know what would do, and what would not. In a contrary sort of a way it was this child-like naivety that she was finding so compelling about him. He was spontaneous, warm, generous, unfettered, doing whatever happened to come into his head at the time. It certainly had the effect of drawing her unconsciously towards him and, perhaps not for the first time, she realised that it could also make him a very dangerous gentleman for her to befriend .
But at least he was true to his word, for within the space of a very few minutes he was back, laughingly lifting Bob from the carriage and setting him down on the gravel at the front door once again.
‘Now, you go inside and see your mama,’ he urged him. ‘She may have something
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