A quiet ride

The leasurely ride to Saint Theresa’s took only about twenty minutes, with the three young riders enjoying the clear skies and pleasant temperatures. Both Priscilla and Jason were looking forward to the outing based on their own personal expectations; Charlotte on the other hand was full of anxiety. Would the stranger by the brook be waiting at the chapel?

She wondered what Jason Worthington would think of the quiet gentleman. He would not care for him she guessed, a poetry reading dreamer would have little in common with someone like Jason whose three great joys were hunting, gambling and drinking. Not only did the two men have little in common, but the tall handsome stranger could be a competitor for her hand in marriage – no, Jason would not be happy to find a gentleman waiting there for her. Charlotte hoped that Jason would not be too unpleasant to the blond-haired stranger. On more than one occasion she had seen her guest mocking other men’s clothing and seat, insulting them with his sardonic comments and contemptuous looks in an attempt to impress her with his standing. Charlotte doubted that the passionate man she had met by the brook would put up with these slights.

Perhaps it would be best if he were not waiting there. Charlotte was only too well aware of the number of gentlemen killed and wounded each year in duels. Some debutants kept count of these affairs as a measure of their desirability but Charlotte saw them as nothing more than the posturing of immature boys. Mr. Worthington was no stranger to these early morning encounters, she was sure he had participated in quite a few either as the main participant or a second. Jason's reputation with both pistol and sword was well known even out here away from London society. Charlotte dreaded the thought of her gentle stranger being goaded into challenging Jason and being shot or stabbed just so Worthington could preen like a peacock as he recounted his triumph.

Of course it might be worse if he wasn’t there. Jason expected to spend some time alone with her, and the thought of him trying to kiss her after what she had experienced yesterday was more than she could endure. She could only hope that her plan to wait in modest prayer until Priscilla could tempt Jason away would work. Behind her she could hear Miss Dunning giggle girlishly at something Jason had said; Priscilla at least could be counted on to do her best to divert Mr. Worthington’s attentions.

Charlotte led the riders through the commons and into the lightly wooded hills overlooking the village below. Less than a mile into these gently climbing hills they came upon the outer wall of the old chapel, the dark stonework was overgrown with lush green vines of morning glory but this late in the day the blossoms were all tightly closed. She’d love to return sometime soon in the morning to take in what must be a glorious sight of pink, blue and purple in the background of forest green. Great evergreens towered above the chapel but the afternoon sun shown down on the quiet ruins through the gently moving foliage and the dappled lighting dancing on the stone arches was enchanting.

“Oh how lovely!” Exclaimed Priscilla. “It’s like a fairy-tail come to life.” Jason said nothing as he dismounted but he too seemed to be taken by the ruin's charm. Before he could offer her his hand Charlotte slipped from her saddle onto the soft carpet of moss that had covered the old courtyard. Priscilla though was more than happy to have Mr. Worthington help her from her saddle and even rested her delicate white hands on his chest as he lifted her to the ground.

“If this were a fairy-tale, then you must surely be the prince.” She offered as Jason hesitated a split second too long with his hands around her tiny waist, and Charlotte saw his chest swell at Priscilla’s flirtatious flattery. She wasn’t jealous, but she did feel a slight irritation at how easily Miss Dunning was able to attract and hold a man’s attention. Why couldn’t she capture a man’s heart like that?

Charlotte looked around hopefully for the owner of the book of sonnets, had she perhaps captured that strange gentleman’s interest?