That man," she announced huffily, referring to their host, "can't put two words together without losing his meaning!" Obviously she'd expected better of the quality during the time she was allowed to mix with them.
"He's afraid of us, I think," Elizabeth replied, climbing out of bed. "Do you know the time? He desired me to accompany him fishing this morning at seven."
"Half past ten," Berta replied, opening drawers and turning toward Elizabeth for her decision as to which gown to wear. "He waited until a few minutes ago, then went of without you. He was carrying two poles. Said you could join him when you arose."
"In that case, I think I'll wear the pink muslin," she decided with a mischievous smile.
The Earl of Marchman could scarcely believe his eyes when he finally saw his intended making her way toward him. Decked out in a frothy pink gown with an equally frothy pink parasol and a delicate pink bonnet, she came tripping across the bank. Amazed at the vagaries of the female mind, he quickly turned his attention back to the grandfather trout he'd been trying to catch for five years. Ever so gently he jiggled his pole, trying to entice or else annoy the wily old fish into taking his fly. The giant fish swam around his hook as if he knew it might be a trick and then he suddenly charged it, nearly jerking the pole out of John's hands. The fish hurtled out of the water, breaking the surface in a tremendous, thrilling arch at the same moment John's intended bride deliberately chose to let out a piercing shriek: "
"
Startled, John jerked his head in her direction and saw her charging at him as if Lucifer himself was on her heels, screaming, "Snake! " And in that instant his connection was broken; he let his line go slack, and the fish dislodged the hook, exactly as Elizabeth had hoped.
"I saw a snake," she lied, panting and stopping just short of the arms he'd stretched out to catch her-or strangle her, Elizabeth thought, smothering a smile. She stole a quick searching glance at the water, hoping for a glimpse of the magnificent trout he'd nearly caught, her hands itching to hold the pole and try her own luck.
Lord Marchman's disgruntled question snapped her attention back to him. "Would you like to fish, or would you rather sit and watch for a bit, until you recover from your flight from the serpent?"
Elizabeth looked around in feigned shock. "Goodness, sir, I don't fish!"
"Do you sit?" he asked with what have been sarcasm.
Elizabeth lowered her lashes to hide her smile at the mounting impatience in his voice. "Of course I sit," she proudly told him. "Sitting is an excessively ladylike occupation, but fishing, in my opinion, is not. I shall watching you do it, however."
For the next two hours she sat on the boulder beside him, complaining about its hardness, the brightness of the sun and the dampness of the air, and when she ran out of matters to complain about she proceeded to completely spoil his morning by chattering his ears off about every inane topic she could think of while occasionally tossing rocks into the stream to scare off his fish.
"He's afraid of us, I think," Elizabeth replied, climbing out of bed. "Do you know the time? He desired me to accompany him fishing this morning at seven."
"Half past ten," Berta replied, opening drawers and turning toward Elizabeth for her decision as to which gown to wear. "He waited until a few minutes ago, then went of without you. He was carrying two poles. Said you could join him when you arose."
"In that case, I think I'll wear the pink muslin," she decided with a mischievous smile.
The Earl of Marchman could scarcely believe his eyes when he finally saw his intended making her way toward him. Decked out in a frothy pink gown with an equally frothy pink parasol and a delicate pink bonnet, she came tripping across the bank. Amazed at the vagaries of the female mind, he quickly turned his attention back to the grandfather trout he'd been trying to catch for five years. Ever so gently he jiggled his pole, trying to entice or else annoy the wily old fish into taking his fly. The giant fish swam around his hook as if he knew it might be a trick and then he suddenly charged it, nearly jerking the pole out of John's hands. The fish hurtled out of the water, breaking the surface in a tremendous, thrilling arch at the same moment John's intended bride deliberately chose to let out a piercing shriek: "
"
Startled, John jerked his head in her direction and saw her charging at him as if Lucifer himself was on her heels, screaming, "Snake! " And in that instant his connection was broken; he let his line go slack, and the fish dislodged the hook, exactly as Elizabeth had hoped.
"I saw a snake," she lied, panting and stopping just short of the arms he'd stretched out to catch her-or strangle her, Elizabeth thought, smothering a smile. She stole a quick searching glance at the water, hoping for a glimpse of the magnificent trout he'd nearly caught, her hands itching to hold the pole and try her own luck.
Lord Marchman's disgruntled question snapped her attention back to him. "Would you like to fish, or would you rather sit and watch for a bit, until you recover from your flight from the serpent?"
Elizabeth looked around in feigned shock. "Goodness, sir, I don't fish!"
"Do you sit?" he asked with what have been sarcasm.
Elizabeth lowered her lashes to hide her smile at the mounting impatience in his voice. "Of course I sit," she proudly told him. "Sitting is an excessively ladylike occupation, but fishing, in my opinion, is not. I shall watching you do it, however."
For the next two hours she sat on the boulder beside him, complaining about its hardness, the brightness of the sun and the dampness of the air, and when she ran out of matters to complain about she proceeded to completely spoil his morning by chattering his ears off about every inane topic she could think of while occasionally tossing rocks into the stream to scare off his fish.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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