situation.”
“My father taught me that it is a godly duty to take a keen interest in the world,” I said with a pert smile.
“You take rather too keen an interest in worldly things,” Mr. Merrick grunted. “I ask you! How the deuce do you even know that the behavior you so eagerly describe results in the begetting of offspring?”
“Oh, I’ve thought about it a lot,” I said, so happy and so emboldened by how much Edmund Ashfield seemed to be enjoying the conversation that I felt almost invincible. “You couldn’t live amongst livestock for long and not work it out.”
“It’s true, Merrick,” Edmund said supportively. “You merchants and town-dwellers are shielded from the basic facts of life in a way that those of us who work the land and live in proximity to beasts and birds can never be. I’d say there was nothing at all amiss with having an earthy approach to life.”
“You may be nineteen years old, Eleanor,” Mr. Merrick said. “But I’ve a mind to send you to your chamber at once, supper or no. You are too forward by half.”
I hated my guardian then. I hated him for making me appear like a child when I was trying so very hard not to be one. But again Edmund Ashfield leapt to my rescue.
“Oh, don’t send her away, William,” he said in his affable tone. “I beg of you. She’s such delightful company and we would be so dull without her. And I have to say, I don’t think she’s too forward at all.”
Actually, until that day, I’d considered myself rather backward when it came to the intriguing subject of mating. Though when I thought of Edmund when I was out riding it made me shift restlessly in the saddle, I’d been quite disturbed at the idea of men and women doing together what I had watched the bull doing to the cows. But now I did not think I should mind it so very much at all, so long as it could be Edmund Ashfield who was doing it to me.
“Are you on your way back from London,” I asked him, “as you were when last you came to Tickenham?”
“Fancy you remembering that after all this time,” he said.
I blushed, feeling I had given away the secrets of my heart too freely and he would know now that I had been half in love with him since I had been a little girl. That might perhaps be a grave mistake. But then I saw the way he was looking at me, almost wonderingly, and I knew I need not be concerned. He would never use such knowledge against me, never do anything to hurt me. He seemed very straightforward, not the kind of person to appreciate dissembling at all. I did not care if I had inadvertently declared my feelings. In fact, I was glad that I had.
He looked at me as if he could hardly believe I had been that little girl in the drab dress he had first met all those years ago. “I am on my way to rather than from London this time,” he replied.
“And are you going to meet your friend again?” I asked.
“Richard Glanville, yes.”
“I wonder, does young Glanville ever spend any time at Elmsett?” Mr. Merrick asked disparagingly.
“He doesn’t like to,” Edmund said with a glance down the table at the other man. For just a moment the merriment dimmed in his eyes. “You can surely sympathize with him on that score, sir.”
“Or is it just that he prefers the attractions of London?” Mr. Merrick blundered on. “The theaters and coffeehouses?”
“The taverns more like.” Edmund smiled with such fondness and familiarity that I was almost jealous of his friend, for the fact that Edmund clearly had such affection for him. “Though he loves horses and weapons every bit as much as he does canary wine and tobacco. He is an extraordinary young horseman and swordsman.”
“And does he still like to swim?” Mr. Merrick asked.
“Oh, aye. He’s set on teaching me, did his utmost to get me into the Thames with him.”
“Would it be safe for you to learn to swim in the Thames, sir?” I was dismayed by the depth of fear I felt for him, the fact that
“My father taught me that it is a godly duty to take a keen interest in the world,” I said with a pert smile.
“You take rather too keen an interest in worldly things,” Mr. Merrick grunted. “I ask you! How the deuce do you even know that the behavior you so eagerly describe results in the begetting of offspring?”
“Oh, I’ve thought about it a lot,” I said, so happy and so emboldened by how much Edmund Ashfield seemed to be enjoying the conversation that I felt almost invincible. “You couldn’t live amongst livestock for long and not work it out.”
“It’s true, Merrick,” Edmund said supportively. “You merchants and town-dwellers are shielded from the basic facts of life in a way that those of us who work the land and live in proximity to beasts and birds can never be. I’d say there was nothing at all amiss with having an earthy approach to life.”
“You may be nineteen years old, Eleanor,” Mr. Merrick said. “But I’ve a mind to send you to your chamber at once, supper or no. You are too forward by half.”
I hated my guardian then. I hated him for making me appear like a child when I was trying so very hard not to be one. But again Edmund Ashfield leapt to my rescue.
“Oh, don’t send her away, William,” he said in his affable tone. “I beg of you. She’s such delightful company and we would be so dull without her. And I have to say, I don’t think she’s too forward at all.”
Actually, until that day, I’d considered myself rather backward when it came to the intriguing subject of mating. Though when I thought of Edmund when I was out riding it made me shift restlessly in the saddle, I’d been quite disturbed at the idea of men and women doing together what I had watched the bull doing to the cows. But now I did not think I should mind it so very much at all, so long as it could be Edmund Ashfield who was doing it to me.
“Are you on your way back from London,” I asked him, “as you were when last you came to Tickenham?”
“Fancy you remembering that after all this time,” he said.
I blushed, feeling I had given away the secrets of my heart too freely and he would know now that I had been half in love with him since I had been a little girl. That might perhaps be a grave mistake. But then I saw the way he was looking at me, almost wonderingly, and I knew I need not be concerned. He would never use such knowledge against me, never do anything to hurt me. He seemed very straightforward, not the kind of person to appreciate dissembling at all. I did not care if I had inadvertently declared my feelings. In fact, I was glad that I had.
He looked at me as if he could hardly believe I had been that little girl in the drab dress he had first met all those years ago. “I am on my way to rather than from London this time,” he replied.
“And are you going to meet your friend again?” I asked.
“Richard Glanville, yes.”
“I wonder, does young Glanville ever spend any time at Elmsett?” Mr. Merrick asked disparagingly.
“He doesn’t like to,” Edmund said with a glance down the table at the other man. For just a moment the merriment dimmed in his eyes. “You can surely sympathize with him on that score, sir.”
“Or is it just that he prefers the attractions of London?” Mr. Merrick blundered on. “The theaters and coffeehouses?”
“The taverns more like.” Edmund smiled with such fondness and familiarity that I was almost jealous of his friend, for the fact that Edmund clearly had such affection for him. “Though he loves horses and weapons every bit as much as he does canary wine and tobacco. He is an extraordinary young horseman and swordsman.”
“And does he still like to swim?” Mr. Merrick asked.
“Oh, aye. He’s set on teaching me, did his utmost to get me into the Thames with him.”
“Would it be safe for you to learn to swim in the Thames, sir?” I was dismayed by the depth of fear I felt for him, the fact that
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