Like No Other

Chapter 28: Promptings of Friends

        The afternoon was warm and bright, and the golden shaft of sun shone on the colourful flowerbeds of various shapes sprawled on the well-trimmed lawn. Gardeners were busy with their work, as were the masons who were immersed on painstaking restoration of the gazebo overlooking the pellucid pond off the west front of Stokeford Manor. The house itself, an imposing grey mass amidst the lush vista, looked a little less severe as the sunlight slanted across its ornate facade. Elms and beech trees were bobbing in the background and beyond them were the undulated green hills flecked with wildflowers, at the foot of which was the Forest Creek, a small strip of woodland where a gushing rivulet was hidden.

        Pausing on a hillside with Faust grazing beside him, the Earl of Stokeford drank in the fair prospect. For more than a fortnight no other sight had been beheld by his eyes, and yet he couldn’t be wearied of it. Here, enfolded in the tranquility of his home and the glories of nature, he was not preyed by scandals and family obligations; here, he could indulge his time and brain in a more worthwhile pursuits. His elderly steward, Mr Hayes, had already warned him months ago the bulk of work waiting to be uncovered, and was very much gratified to have heard that his lordship was planning to start all the necessary repairs soon. 

        “And you could not have chosen a better time, my lord,” Mr Hayes said. “Since you hadn’t come down here for almost six months, some of your tenants had been wondering if the Manor would ever see the light of the day. But then they were just restless and scraping for information if there were some work available for them here.” He glanced questioningly at his lordship’s bandaged arm. “An accident in town, my lord?”

        “No, a duel.” Seeing the old man’s aghast expression, his lips twitched. “I know, Hayes. You may chastise me for being a negligent landlord. Instead of shooting off people, I should have been down here weeks ago and started the repairs.”

        Mr Hayes smiled and drew his own conclusions. “Now, why should the estate begrudged you of your time in town, my lord? You’re still a young man after all, and crave for some entertainment. I did tell you the extent of work to be done here, but they could have waited all the same.” His silvery bushy brows puckered. He said thoughtfully: “Unless you mean to settle down at no distant date, my lord?”

        “I might. Family obligation, you know,” Stokeford murmured absently.

        “Ah. Your chosen lady will count herself very lucky indeed to become the mistress of so lovely a place,” declared Mr Hayes confidently.

        My chosen lady, Stokeford thought wistfully as he led Faust up to the hilltop where a small mausoleum was perched, surrounded by a thicket. Perhaps by now the lady whom his heart had been so ill-advised as to choose was happily betrothed to his cousin already. A bitter smile twisted on his lips. Dear Laurie, who’d been as good as brother to him all his life — who would have thought that they would one day share a passion for the same girl? Stefan had vowed to cool his own passion for Caroline, but it proved to be an unrewarded task when every waking moment she was always there in the fringes of his mind, her bright face a constant reminder of the might-have-been. 

        Still, he’d given up. Sooner or later we would have to marry, and he’d as lief choose Marianne as any lady whom he had but the slightest acquaintance. He frowned. The thought of being trapped into a loveless marriage made him cringe, but one must have to face the harsh reality, as his dear father did before him. What did Milborne say again? ‘Some of us are dealt a wrong hand when it comes to love, and we shall have to put up with it’. Stokeford did not have the greatest respect for Milborne’s intelligence, but he had to admit that the man could talk sense, if not often. And so he would follow this piece of advice, and perhaps one day, when all was said and done, he would look back at this tumultuous point of his life and laugh at this foolish sentimentality. After all, there’s more to relish in life than to misspend the bulk of it by repining for a love he’d never had. Perhaps the future wouldn’t be so bad as he’d gloomily anticipated.