embarrassing,” agreed Thomas, as they strolled across the lawns.
Lydia stopped in her tracks and looked at Thomas squarely. “Lady Thorndike has a reputation that I do not envy,” she told him brusquely. “You saw the way she spoke to poor Sir Henry. His first wife died five years ago and his only son, the year after. He married that woman to produce an heir for him. There is no love lost between them.”
Sensing he had touched a raw nerve, he backed off. “I shall bow to your judgment, my love,” he replied diplomatically.
They walked on, skirting the large muddy bowl of the lake. Deprived of adequate rainfall, its banks were cracked and dry and it contained no more than a very large puddle. It was so hot that they were glad to see a folly up ahead and made straight for it.
Nestled among tall pines at the top of a gentle slope, the Temple of Daphne, with its classical colonnades, looked cool and inviting. Lydia hurried into its shade, but remained agitated. She threw back her head, sighing. “I am sorry, Thomas. I should never have brought you here,” she began.
He looked at the careworn expression that was all too familiar to him. He must bring back a smile to her lips, he told himself.
“I’ll not hear of it,” he mocked her. “Oh, how charming! Do dine with us,” he mimicked. “Do not let them trouble you,” he told her, smiling wryly. “You managed well enough without them when you were married to the captain. I suspect he did not ingratiate himself with most of your polite society around here, either.”
After a moment she returned his smile. “You are right, as usual,” she said. And at this, Thomas bent forward and playfully pecked her on the lips.
“Of course I am right. I am a doctor,” he teased her and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she did so.
It was only then that Thomas noticed something most peculiar. As he put his arm around Lydia, he gazed down and saw a large brown rat crouching in the corner of the folly. Instinctively he looked around. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the dense undergrowth nearby. He could not believe what he saw; not one or two, but at least a dozen rats were scuttling in the bracken. He could even hear them squeak.
“What’s that noise?” asked Lydia suddenly.
Thomas held his tongue, remembering her deep-rooted fear of rodents. He knew he must act quickly but calmly. Stroking her hair as her head rested on his shoulder, he turned around, taking her with him, and began walking out of the folly.
“Thomas, what are you doing?” she protested, as he led her down the slope onto the main lawn.
When they were safely away from the undergrowth he told her the truth.
“I spotted a rat in the folly,” he said.
She heaved a sigh of relief and gazed up at him. “Thank you,” she replied. “You know how I hate rats.”
He had no intention of telling her that there was an infestation of the creatures. For some reason—he wished he knew what—they had sought higher ground. Normally they would do that in the case of a flood, but water levels in streams, rivers, and lakes were exceptionally low. There had to be some explanation for such behavior. It was yet another piece in the puzzle that both baffled and worried him.
Chapter 7
L ydia was anxious to reach Hungerford by the late afternoon, so the following day Lovelock made the carriage ready before dawn. As they rumbled down the drive of Boughton Hall and out into the lane, Thomas could sense her nervousness. She said little at first, choosing to stare out of the window as the sun rose over the hills.
They skirted Oxford and in a village toward Abingdon stopped at the inn for refreshment and to water the horses. Choosing a seat in the corner, where prying eyes would find it harder to stare, Thomas reached for Lydia’s hand. He could only imagine the mixed emotions she was going through and he knew that the next few hours could bring joy and elation or disappointment and
Lydia stopped in her tracks and looked at Thomas squarely. “Lady Thorndike has a reputation that I do not envy,” she told him brusquely. “You saw the way she spoke to poor Sir Henry. His first wife died five years ago and his only son, the year after. He married that woman to produce an heir for him. There is no love lost between them.”
Sensing he had touched a raw nerve, he backed off. “I shall bow to your judgment, my love,” he replied diplomatically.
They walked on, skirting the large muddy bowl of the lake. Deprived of adequate rainfall, its banks were cracked and dry and it contained no more than a very large puddle. It was so hot that they were glad to see a folly up ahead and made straight for it.
Nestled among tall pines at the top of a gentle slope, the Temple of Daphne, with its classical colonnades, looked cool and inviting. Lydia hurried into its shade, but remained agitated. She threw back her head, sighing. “I am sorry, Thomas. I should never have brought you here,” she began.
He looked at the careworn expression that was all too familiar to him. He must bring back a smile to her lips, he told himself.
“I’ll not hear of it,” he mocked her. “Oh, how charming! Do dine with us,” he mimicked. “Do not let them trouble you,” he told her, smiling wryly. “You managed well enough without them when you were married to the captain. I suspect he did not ingratiate himself with most of your polite society around here, either.”
After a moment she returned his smile. “You are right, as usual,” she said. And at this, Thomas bent forward and playfully pecked her on the lips.
“Of course I am right. I am a doctor,” he teased her and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she did so.
It was only then that Thomas noticed something most peculiar. As he put his arm around Lydia, he gazed down and saw a large brown rat crouching in the corner of the folly. Instinctively he looked around. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the dense undergrowth nearby. He could not believe what he saw; not one or two, but at least a dozen rats were scuttling in the bracken. He could even hear them squeak.
“What’s that noise?” asked Lydia suddenly.
Thomas held his tongue, remembering her deep-rooted fear of rodents. He knew he must act quickly but calmly. Stroking her hair as her head rested on his shoulder, he turned around, taking her with him, and began walking out of the folly.
“Thomas, what are you doing?” she protested, as he led her down the slope onto the main lawn.
When they were safely away from the undergrowth he told her the truth.
“I spotted a rat in the folly,” he said.
She heaved a sigh of relief and gazed up at him. “Thank you,” she replied. “You know how I hate rats.”
He had no intention of telling her that there was an infestation of the creatures. For some reason—he wished he knew what—they had sought higher ground. Normally they would do that in the case of a flood, but water levels in streams, rivers, and lakes were exceptionally low. There had to be some explanation for such behavior. It was yet another piece in the puzzle that both baffled and worried him.
Chapter 7
L ydia was anxious to reach Hungerford by the late afternoon, so the following day Lovelock made the carriage ready before dawn. As they rumbled down the drive of Boughton Hall and out into the lane, Thomas could sense her nervousness. She said little at first, choosing to stare out of the window as the sun rose over the hills.
They skirted Oxford and in a village toward Abingdon stopped at the inn for refreshment and to water the horses. Choosing a seat in the corner, where prying eyes would find it harder to stare, Thomas reached for Lydia’s hand. He could only imagine the mixed emotions she was going through and he knew that the next few hours could bring joy and elation or disappointment and
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