Carola Dunn Read Online Free PDF Page A

no choice. Papa says I must have someone and that she is as good as the next person, and a relative besides. I let her talk while I think my own thoughts. It is not so very bad, especially when Cousin Gregory is here. He sometimes goes out with me so that I do not need Mrs Daventry.”
    “Do you ride?”
    “Oh yes, often.”
    Angel was about to remark that she was very fond of riding when it dawned on her that her uncle certainly could not mount her, and Lady Elizabeth might think that she was angling for an invitation. Before she could resolve this dilemma, it was taken out of her hands.
    “Do you ride, Miss Brand?” asked Sir Gregory. “My uncle has a great many horses in his stable that are rarely ridden, and I feel sure he would be happy to accommodate you. Do you not think so, Beth?’’
    “Oh, yes,” agreed his cousin, “if you will persuade him.”
    “Catherine, you do not suppose Uncle Clement will object? This is beyond anything great! Only I do not have a riding habit with me. I daresay I can have one made up in Patterdale.” She turned to a discussion of local dressmakers with Lady Elizabeth.
    “Good morrow, Kate,” said Sir Gregory, “'for that's your name, I hear.'“
    “ ‘Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: They call me Katherine that do talk of me.’ And that is Miss Sutton to you, sir. I hope you do not mean to suggest that you find me shrewish?’’
    “‘Oh, Kate, content thee; prithee be not angry.’ Not a shrew, Miss Sutton, but I believe I have found you out for a bluestocking, to be quoting Shakespeare with me. Confess!”
    “Truth to tell, I have read The Taming of the Shrew an hundred times, looking to find all the virtues in my namesake.”
    “And what success had you?”
    “Little,” she admitted, “except that now I could recite you the whole play. But you’ll not find me reading Kate’s homily on obedient wives.”
    “Ah, ‘tis plain to see you are not married. You will change your tune when you are wed.”
    “I doubt it, sir. I do not hold men to be the superior sex.”
    “‘That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.’ Here is the ill effect of too much education, Kate,” Sir Gregory said, grinning; then, as she frowned, “I beg your pardon—Miss Sutton.”
    “I’ll not argue with you, sir, for I see that my best arguments will but prove your point. Here comes Mrs Daventry.”
    Sir Gregory groaned and clutched his ears, but when the lady came up he was all bored propriety.
    “Are you ready to depart, ma’am?” he drawled in a very different voice from that he had used with Catherine. “Cousin, will you take my arm? The path is slippery.”
    Farewells were said, and promises to meet again, and the Grisedale carriage moved off up the lane. Mr and Mrs Sutton were still busy with their parishioners, so Angel and Catherine walked towards the vicarage, nodding in response to the curtsies and tipped hats of the farm folk. As they approached the gate between the churchyard and the garden, a rather stout and florid young man walked up to them, removed his fashionable beaver, and bowed low, dropping his silver-mounted cane in the process.
    They stopped and looked at him in surprise as he picked it up and straightened with a gasp, crimson-faced from the exertion, not, as was soon evident, from embarrassment.
    “Beg leave to introduce m’self,” he uttered with cheerful nonchalance. “Dick Burchett at y’r service. Met the Vicar and his missus just now, y’know. Pa owns Beckside Farm.”
    Neither Angel nor Catherine could think of any suitable response to this revelation. Fortunately Mr Burchett did not seem to expect one.
    “He’s a warm man,” he explained. “Price of wool’s good with the war and all. Sent me away to school and thinks that makes me a gentleman. Keep telling him all I want’s to be a farmer; won’t listen. Wants to send me to London now, find a toff to marry, but I’m courting Betsy down at Meadow Farm in