Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Early Saturday morning, both households and several friends set off for the ruins. Since no one wanted to carry a heavy picnic basket, they talked the hospital gardener into lending his garden cart and pony to haul the various baskets, bottles, and rugs, as well as helping them load, unload, and set up. They even had a small pavilion roof to keep off the sun.

The company was in high spirits, revelling in the bright sunshine and the crisp, clean morning air. When they came to the edge of the ruins, the gardener helped them pick out a spot that was relatively dry and level in which to set up the pavilion. In short order, the boxes, bales, and bundles were unloaded into its shelter, and the gardener departed.

“I’ll come back in the afternoon to collect everyone,” he said. “I don’t doubt it will take a while to see everything.”

“No doubt of it at all,” Dorian agreed, glad that he had thought of employing the man’s help. It would have been a miserable thing to lug all their gear over the quarter mile or more from the town to the ruins.

Lady Temple and Miss Tunstall took charge of getting the rugs spread out and the baskets placed, which is to say that they each pointed and directed while the gentlemen in the party moved things this way and that.

“But Miss Tunstall,” Mr Hooper protested, leaning against a heavy wicker hamper, “Lady Temple told me to place the basket here.”

“And now I want it over there,” Lady Temple said. “I sent Miss Tunstall to tell you so that I would not have to shout.”

“Can someone help me with this?” Mr Hooper asked.

Lenora came over. “I can help,” she said.

Miss Tunstall gave Lord Whitchurch a pointed look, which he ignored. Dorian hastened to assist his friend with the heavy woven hamper.

At last, everything was placed to Lady Temple’s satisfaction, and they all sat down to rest from their labours. The day was warming up nicely, so Lenora passed around a cloth-wrapped bottle of lemonade while Miss Tunstall handed out cups. Emma opened a basket of muffins.

Dorian sat down on the rug next to Lenora, perched on the edge of a box. The position put him somewhat out of sight of the others and (he hoped) perhaps even muffled his voice a little.

“How are you doing with Lord Whitchurch?” he asked.

“So impertinent and nosy this early in the day,” Lenora chided him, even though the sun had climbed quite high up in the heavens. “Is this to be a game of twenty questions?”

“I had not planned it to be,” Dorian replied. “But we can make it so if you wish.”

“I think I’d rather play a rubber or two of whist,” she said. “We can wager grass blades or muffin crumbs if the ants do not run away with them all.”

Dorian forced a laugh that he did not feel. It was not like Lenora to keep things from him, but he was engaged to Emma. He had no right to pry into her affairs. Even so, his friend’s reticence chaffed. For a moment, he felt a sad longing for the old times when they were free and easy with each other.

“I suppose we could play a round or two,” he said. “If only to let our refreshments digest.”

Lenora got a deck of cards from a basket of amusements her mother had packed. Emma and August joined them to make a foursome at cards. Lenora dealt out the cards, taking her time to make sure they were placed just so.

“Are you afraid of losing?” Dorian teased. “I’ve never seen you deal out cards so slowly.

“Not at all,” Lenora retorted, “I am simply making sure that when you lose, you will have no reason to call ‘cheat’, as you used to do when you lost when we were children.”

Dorian laughed. “Ah, but we are not children now,” he said. “I would be sure to exact humiliation and punishment more subtly than I did when you were in pinafores.”

Lenora laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt. I’m also certain you would show me up in front of Lord Whitchurch.”

“I? After all the trouble I went through to introduce you?” Dorian denied. But he felt a pang of jealousy, even so. Why was he upset? He had never disliked Lenora having other friends before. Indeed, he had encouraged her. “I’m simply doing my best to make him jealous. I’m fairly certain I’m succeeding, too,” he added, flicking a glance at Lord Whitchurch.

Indeed, the fellow was staring at them with his eyebrows drawn together in a ferocious scowl.

“You will undo all your work,” Lenora whispered to him from behind the shield of her cards, “If he becomes so upset that he is put off.”

Lady Temple prevented further squabbling. “Let us all proceed to the ruins,” she said. “There is so much of it. We’ll not observe even a tenth of it if we do not get started soon.

Lenora and Lady Temple took Lord Whitchurch with them. “There is a pit house you simply must see,” Lady Temple said. “Emma, you should come, too. With very little work, it could be restored to liveable conditions. It is not so very different from the houses used by many of the tenant farmers hereabouts.”

The four of them moved off together. When he looked around, Dorian realized that Miss Blanche and Mr Hooper had also vanished from the picnic area. This left him with August as a companion.

“Why don’t we go up on the heights?” Dorian asked August. “From there, we can see all the others and spy on them.”

“I’d rather go hide in the maze,” August said gloomily. Then he added, “I’m sorry, Dorian. I’m not fit company today.”

Dorian jammed his hands into his pockets and walked with his friend for a few steps before asking, “What’s troubling you, August?”

“Women!” August burst out. “Wherever they are concerned, it is as if the very Devil takes hold of men.”

“Whew!” Dorian whistled. “You sure are hot about something. Want to talk about it?”

“Tell me about your father, Dorian,” August said, seeming to change the subject. “What was he like? Did the two of you get along?”

“We did well enough, I suppose,” Dorian said. “I was quite young when he and my mother died. Since I was still in the schoolroom, I mostly have an impression of a gentleman in fine evening clothes and a lady equally well dressed. They always came to see me before going out in the evening.”

“I see,” August said. “I can understand why you might not remember them particularly well in that case. What an odd way to run a family.”

“It is common enough, I think,” Dorian said. “You are fortunate that your parents seem to take a more hands-on approach to raising a family.”

“Perhaps,” August said, picking a leaf off the maze hedge and staring at it as if it contained the wisdom of the ages. “Let’s go back,” he said abruptly.

They had not been paying attention to where they were in the maze and so had become turned about. It took them a little while to extract themselves. When they returned to the picnic area, they found only Miss Tunstall, who was sitting on a camp chair reading a book.

August flung himself onto the carpet, as far from her as he could possibly get. Dorian was surprised and puzzled by his behaviour but had no chance to comment because Miss Blanche and Mr Hooper returned, walking a little distance from each other.

Miss Blanch had twigs and grass in her hair, and Mr Hooper had a grass stain on one knee of his trousers.

“Are you all right?” Dorian asked, beginning to feel as if a day in the ruins was more of a disaster than a pleasure.

“Perfectly fine,” Miss Blanche said breezily. “I took a tumble, that is all. Mr Hooper stained his trousers getting me back up an embankment. Miss Tunstall, would you be so kind as to help me put myself to rights?”

While Miss Tunstall helped Miss Blanche get the twigs and grass out of her hair, Dorian tossed a knowing look August’s way.

To his surprise, August returned his look with one so filled with sorrow that it would have done credit to a Greek tragedy. The young gentleman seemed to be coming to pieces before his very eyes.

Dorian turned his gaze away from August, not wanting to embarrass him. As he did so, he saw their other party members come walking back. They were setting a rather brisk pace for a group of people who had been enjoying themselves.

The ladies were clustered around Lord Whitchurch like hens around a single chick, all clucking and twittering. The gentleman had his face set in what seemed to be an expression of polite pleasantness and was carefully setting one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly, he cried out sharply and sagged as if one leg had completely given way beneath him. Lenora hastened to his side, ready to put a shoulder under his arm.

“Get away from me!” Lord Whitchurch screamed at her. “Don’t touch me. I hurt so much all over. I can’t bear your touch, your hands on me.”

He sank to the ground, shouting out incoherently. He gripped his hands together, his cries diminishing into whimpers.

Dorian, Mr Hooper, and August all ran quickly towards the group while Miss Tunstall and Miss Blanche stared at the scene in horror.

Mr Hooper grabbed up a blanket, paying little attention to the leftover sandwiches and cakes that went flying. “I’ve seen this before,” he said. “He’ll not be able to bear anyone’s touch. Lay hold of his coat, then his trouser legs, and ease him onto the cloth.”

The gardener drove up just then with the pony cart and gaped at the scene before him until Miss Tunstall had the presence of mind to say, “Your first duty is to help Lord Whitchurch get to the hospital. He needs medical assistance.”

“Of course!” the obliging fellow said at once.

“I’ll go with them,” August said. “He’ll need help unloading him from the cart at the other end.”

“Be my guest,” Mr Hooper said. “I’m not much of a nursemaid.”

August said, “I’m glad to do it. I think I’ve had enough picnicking for one day.” He glanced towards Miss Blanch and Mr Hooper as he said it.

Mr Hooper stepped back, narrowing his eyes as if seeing something unexpected for the first time, while Miss Blanche turned an unbecoming shade of scarlet and said nothing at all.

Dorian had no thought of attending them, however. Lenora stood alone, wringing her hands, with tears streaming down her face. He approached her cautiously, as one might a nervous filly who has just failed at a jump.

“Lenora,” he said, “are you alright?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she sobbed. “I just wanted to help.”

“It’s all right,” he said, gently patting her shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just . . . I’m really not sure what. But Uncle Jonathan is at the hospital. He will know what to do.”

Lenora twisted away from him and ran away towards her mother. Lady Temple put an arm around her daughter and drew her in closely. “I do hope August will have the presence of mind to send back the carriage,” she said. “Miss Tunstall, will you please begin packing up? Dorian, would you mind terribly assisting her?”

“I’ll see to it at once,” Dorian said, not waiting for Miss Tunstall to reply. “I will be happy to.”

But as he picked up fallen sandwiches and helped the other three to fold blankets and strike the pavilion while Lady Temple comforted Lenora, he wondered just exactly what had gone wrong with what should have been a beautiful day.