with such exuberant joy that David could not escape the conclusion that she loved him too. And her face was always alight with happiness when she chattered away to his cousin. If she was ambitious, she was not attempting to achieve her goals at the expense of those dear to her. She was not turning her back on the faithful Algie. And she was loyal to Miss Barnes. She always made sure that her less-glamorous friend was included in any entertainment of which she was to be a part.
And there was her exuberance, her silliness, her frivolity. She undoubtedly expended a great deal of energy on trivialities. And her conversation was less than profound. The temptation was to dismiss her as a foolish, empty-headed young girl who was centered entirely on self. And yet he could not be satisfied that this was Lady Rachel either. There was a vibrance about the girl, and some inner force or restlessness that defied explanation.
And he did not even know why he wished to explain her. Was it because she was to be his parishioner and he knew that he must get to know her eventually? Yet he did not feel the same compulsion with her parents, and they would be just as much his parishioners. David would have far preferred to see a great deal less of Lady Rachel. He would have been more comfortable without knowing her.
And now he had a garden party to look forward to. There was nothing very remarkable about that except that the party was in his honor. It was all very embarrassing really. His godmother lived in Richmond, and he had paid a call on her on his arrival in London. He had done so from choice as well as duty, as he had always been fond of her. Indeed as a boy he had frequently spent holidays with her and the late Lord Wexford, and they had always sent him lavish gifts at Christmas and for his birthdays.
She was almost crippled with rheumatism and was a frequent victim of chills and coughs, she had told him. Indeed on the day she had received him David had felt that she should have been in bed. And yet a mere few days later she had sent a letter telling him-not asking him-that she was going to give a garden party in his honor. He had no chance to protest. The invitations had gone out the same day.
And she was remarkably well-informed, he had discovered. The Earl of Edgeley and his family and Algie had all been invited. David felt uneasy about the whole thing. Apart from that one visit on his arrival in London, a visit he had cut short out of concern for her health, he had not seen her for three years. She really did not know him now. He was no longer the sort of person for whom one gave a lavish party.
***
Rachel was wearing a rose-pink muslin dress, its hem scalloped and embroidered in a deeper pink, its sash of a matching shade. Her straw hat was held in place by a wide pink ribbon that passed over the crown, drew the sides of the brim against her ears, and tied in a dashing bow beneath her right cheek. She felt very fetching and had drawn a compliment from Lady Wexford on her arrival at the garden party.
It was an outfit that she had been keeping for a special occasion. And what more special occasion could there be than a garden party in Richmond on a perfect late-spring afternoon? Especially when Algie was going to be there to admire her. He always appreciated fashionable clothes. And more especially when she knew that the Marquess of Stanford was to be there and had expressed his gratification to know that she was to be in attendance too.
Rachel was very pleased with the progress of that particular relationship. He had sent flowers to her the morning after the Simpson ball and visited in the afternoon. He had singled her out for attention several times since. Indeed, she had heard that they had become quite an on-dit about town. The marquess just was not known to show such interest in any lady of the ton.
She was elated. She could not have hoped for any greater sign of success. At the same time, she was cautious. She did not wish to appear too eager to receive his attentions. She did not want to appear foolish if his interest in her faded as fast as it had arisen. Besides, she was conscious of the fact that he was a great deal older than she and that he treated her with a charming indulgence, almost as if he dealt with a child. She was not at all sure yet that she wished to marry the marquess. And she was equally aware of his own caution. Apart from that one visit after the Simpson ball, he had spent only a few minutes at each function in her company.
And the same thing had happened at the garden party. He had greeted her as she strolled with her parents and Celia down by the river, out of sight of the house and the upper lawn, where Lady Wexford presided and the tables were spread with refreshments. He had taken her arm and walked with her for ten minutes, amusing her with a description of a riverboat race in which he had once participated and been tipped into the water. And then he had returned her to her parents, bowed over her hand, and disappeared in the direction of the house again.
Rachel was not disappointed. She did not want him with her all afternoon. Algie was coming toward the river, and she waved her parasol gaily in his direction. He lifted her hand to his lips when he came up with them and complimented her on her appearance, did the same to Celia, drew an arm of each through his, and proceeded to stroll with them back along the riverbank again.
Algernon and Celia talked. Rachel did not. She could not seem to keep her head from turning in the direction of the hidden house and upper lawn. Had Mr. Gower not come with Algie? But he must have. He was the guest of honor. Of course, as such he would doubtless have to stay close to Lady Wexford. He probably would not come down to the river at all. But she could not concentrate on the conversation, and she could not stop her eyes from turning in the direction from which he would come, if he came.
'Shall we cross to those trees?' Algernon suggested. 'I see General and Mrs. Harding over there. I played cards with him the other evening. Very decent sort of fellow.'
Celia turned obediently.
Rachel drew her arm free. 'You two go,' she said. 'I would really far prefer to return to the upper lawn. To tell the truth, Algie, I am starved. I shall follow Mama and Papa up to the house. No, no.' She held up a hand and smiled dazzlingly at the other two, who had both turned back. 'Don't let me spoil your pleasure. I should feel guilty if I dragged you back with me. And the Hardings may think you are trying to avoid them. I shall be with Mama in but a moment. There will be no impropriety at all.'
She whisked herself around and began to stride purposefully up the slope before the other two could make any protest. She smiled brightly at the other strollers she passed.
But she stopped before she reached the top of the rise that would bring the house into full view. What was she doing? The hunger story was, of course, false. She was going in search of Mr. Gower. She was being more foolish than she had thought it possible for her to be. The man had shown no interest in her from that first day on. He treated her with the merest courtesy only, he had shown a marked preference for Celia. And she knew with her rational mind that it was right that it be so. Celia was eminently suited to life as a vicar's wife. The thought of herself in that role was ludicrous.
Why, then, was it that she could not put him from her mind? Why was it that she counted the hours until she might next expect to set eyes on him? Why must she be developing an obsession for the one man who seemed quite uninterested in her? Was that the attraction? Would she lose interest in him if he would just show some in her?
She should be wholeheartedly wishing for an attachment between Mr. Gower and Celia. There was much in favor of such an attachment. She loved her friend. She wanted her to be happy. And she would have her close to Oakland if Celia married the vicar. But she could not wish for such a thing, Rachel thought in an agony. She could not.
Rachel's steps slowed. She must not go on. If she did, she would see him on the upper lawn and she might well begin to make a thorough cake of herself. People would begin to notice that she was pursuing the new vicar of her home parish and that he was in no way interested in her. She glanced back down the slope to the distant figures of Algie and Celia, standing with the general and his wife. She could not return to them. Her behavior would seem decidedly peculiar.
There were trees close to her on the right. They looked to be deserted. Perhaps she could lose herself among them for a while until she could feel sure that Algie and Celia had come back up to join the main party. In fact, Rachel thought as she walked far enough into the thicket to be out of sight of those people strolling on the lower lawn, it was an inspired idea. She had not realized just how much she was missing her life in the country and the frequent opportunities for solitude.
Rachel loved company, it was true. But it was equally true that she loved to be alone, especially when out- of-doors. It was during such times that she experienced her favorite and her most frustrating feeling, that feeling of excitement and exhilaration welling to the surface and sometimes even spilling over so that she was forced to run or to dance, to shout or to sing. The only thing she did not like about such feelings was that she could never explain
