walk unaided. I promise to release your hand back to your keeping as soon as we arrive on the path.”
I smiled, still not looking at him, and grasped his hand. In this way we progressed, and in a very short time, placing my hand in his seemed natural. Once we gained the path, the walk, though vigorous, was not difficult. At the top, we found a ledge to sit upon so that we might admire the view. We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the vista.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” I said at last.
“Indeed it is. Now you may understand why I delight in spring. The trees are leafing out, gorse is blooming, and green spreads over hills and peaks like a coverlet. Will you not change your mind, Miss Bennet, and say you like spring best?”
I could not help laughing. “No, sir, I will not. I don’t dislike it, though.”
“Charles is a lucky man, to have such a grand estate.”
“But you are content with your own estate, are you not?”
“Very much so. You shall see it next week, and I hope you will find it to your liking.”
I dared to look up at him, and his eyes held mine for a moment. There was nothing there of teasing or mocking, but still, I knew I must not read anything into his remark. He might have said the same to anyone who was soon to visit his home.
“Shall we go? I promised to row your sister around the lake.” A reminder of the excellence of his manners and his desire to please. A climb up High Tor with me meant nothing more to him than a spin around the lake with Kitty.
On the way down, Mr. Walsh asked my opinion of Southey’s biography of Nelson.
“On the whole, it seems balanced, if slightly biased in Lord Nelson’s favor. Have you read it?”
“Yes. A great hero, although the Naples fiasco tarnishes him, as well as the conduct of his personal life.”
“You speak of his . . . flirtation with Lady Hamilton?” My cheeks burned. I knew it had gone much further than a “flirtation,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say “affair.”
“I do. Tell me, Miss Bennet, do you believe we should be judged by the totality of our lives, rather than each separate part?”
“You mean, should we consider the admiral’s achievements over his whole lifetime rather than dissecting it piece by piece?”
“Precisely.”
“I could more easily esteem his illustrious deeds if he hadn’t committed the imprudent ones.”
“You cannot, then, set them aside? He was a great leader of men; his courage never faltered. He lost an arm, and ultimately his life, in service to his country.”
“I do admire him for his accomplishments, and yet those imperfections in him . . .” My words tapered off. I wasn’t sure what I wished to express.
“Is human perfection possible, Miss Bennet? I would hate to have my own faults examined too closely.”
By now we were approaching the others. I wanted to tell him I could forgive his imperfections, but Kitty saved me from saying something so forward by accosting us with her demands. “Sir, I’ve been waiting a horrid long time for you to row me around the lake.” She gave me a disapproving look. “You cannot keep Mr. Walsh all to yourself, Mary.”
I was mortified.
Henry Walsh bowed slightly in my direction. “Thank you for accompanying me, Miss Bennet.”
I stood rooted to the spot while they walked away, staring after them. Him. As they pushed off from shore, a fierce desire to be the one in the boat with him took possession of me. We might have continued our conversation about his . . . faults. Whatever they were, they must be buried in the past, because at present, I could see none. It was just as well, then, that it was Kitty in the boat with him. I might have said something to regret later.
I spied a place to sit by myself with my book. Every so often, the sound of their laughter drifted toward me on the breeze. What Mr. Walsh and I had discussed was more serious in nature. I sighed. Men liked to be entertained by ladies, I thought. They
I smiled, still not looking at him, and grasped his hand. In this way we progressed, and in a very short time, placing my hand in his seemed natural. Once we gained the path, the walk, though vigorous, was not difficult. At the top, we found a ledge to sit upon so that we might admire the view. We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the vista.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” I said at last.
“Indeed it is. Now you may understand why I delight in spring. The trees are leafing out, gorse is blooming, and green spreads over hills and peaks like a coverlet. Will you not change your mind, Miss Bennet, and say you like spring best?”
I could not help laughing. “No, sir, I will not. I don’t dislike it, though.”
“Charles is a lucky man, to have such a grand estate.”
“But you are content with your own estate, are you not?”
“Very much so. You shall see it next week, and I hope you will find it to your liking.”
I dared to look up at him, and his eyes held mine for a moment. There was nothing there of teasing or mocking, but still, I knew I must not read anything into his remark. He might have said the same to anyone who was soon to visit his home.
“Shall we go? I promised to row your sister around the lake.” A reminder of the excellence of his manners and his desire to please. A climb up High Tor with me meant nothing more to him than a spin around the lake with Kitty.
On the way down, Mr. Walsh asked my opinion of Southey’s biography of Nelson.
“On the whole, it seems balanced, if slightly biased in Lord Nelson’s favor. Have you read it?”
“Yes. A great hero, although the Naples fiasco tarnishes him, as well as the conduct of his personal life.”
“You speak of his . . . flirtation with Lady Hamilton?” My cheeks burned. I knew it had gone much further than a “flirtation,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say “affair.”
“I do. Tell me, Miss Bennet, do you believe we should be judged by the totality of our lives, rather than each separate part?”
“You mean, should we consider the admiral’s achievements over his whole lifetime rather than dissecting it piece by piece?”
“Precisely.”
“I could more easily esteem his illustrious deeds if he hadn’t committed the imprudent ones.”
“You cannot, then, set them aside? He was a great leader of men; his courage never faltered. He lost an arm, and ultimately his life, in service to his country.”
“I do admire him for his accomplishments, and yet those imperfections in him . . .” My words tapered off. I wasn’t sure what I wished to express.
“Is human perfection possible, Miss Bennet? I would hate to have my own faults examined too closely.”
By now we were approaching the others. I wanted to tell him I could forgive his imperfections, but Kitty saved me from saying something so forward by accosting us with her demands. “Sir, I’ve been waiting a horrid long time for you to row me around the lake.” She gave me a disapproving look. “You cannot keep Mr. Walsh all to yourself, Mary.”
I was mortified.
Henry Walsh bowed slightly in my direction. “Thank you for accompanying me, Miss Bennet.”
I stood rooted to the spot while they walked away, staring after them. Him. As they pushed off from shore, a fierce desire to be the one in the boat with him took possession of me. We might have continued our conversation about his . . . faults. Whatever they were, they must be buried in the past, because at present, I could see none. It was just as well, then, that it was Kitty in the boat with him. I might have said something to regret later.
I spied a place to sit by myself with my book. Every so often, the sound of their laughter drifted toward me on the breeze. What Mr. Walsh and I had discussed was more serious in nature. I sighed. Men liked to be entertained by ladies, I thought. They
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