Red Wine For Miss Parker(3)

Now, now. James Crawford, the Earl of Darlington and Viscount Philipp Lackerby only a few hundred yards away and here I sit.

In a tree!

I could most certainly be the envy of all the females in England for being in their company. Not that I care much about such females, I find this ongoing quest for the best possible marriage abominable and I wished there were options for a woman other than marriage (Italian: il matrimonio) or a frustrating life of spinsterhood and poverty, unless one is a wealthy heiress, which I am not.

I feel as if we are constantly in a race with one another for the attention of a worthy catch.

Who is worthy of me anyway?

Who would I want to spend my life with?

Philipp Lackerby? He's a rake if there ever was one. He is dashing, I grant him that. With his sharply cut features and the shining auburn hair, the bright grey eyes, always entertained by something or other... He has that highly attractive though constantly sneering mouth. Tall, muscular and very lean, he reminds me of a racehorse.

The Lackerbies, even if Viscounts only, are one of the oldest families in the country and this Lackerby feels inferior to no one. He actually is one of the closest confidants of our good King George. I should not suspect that their friendship is based on a certain type of amusement, but I know for a fact that Lackerby keeps three different mistresses in London alone. He is constantly infatuated with some opera dancer, singer, or woman of "the horizontal profession".

I'm sure he is excellent at love-making (italian: fare l'amore) and if I married him, I could ask Gigi's father, General Cartwright, to scare him into obedience. Lackerby has served under the General in the war and is notoriously scared of the man.

Oh dear! What am I thinking?

As if he would ever even think of marrying me! He does not even notice me when I enter the room. I met him several times in London yet he did not remember me when he presented himself earlier today. No. I believe "Lady Lackerby" is not going to be me. Not that I ever felt the desire to be her — only because a man is fascinating, witty, good-looking and rich does not make him irresistible to me.

Now Darlington, he's quite a different character. He is smooth. I do not think I have ever met anybody who is as smooth as Lord Darlington. Everything he does is easy. The way he moves, the way he speaks, everything just comes to him effortlessly. Nothing ever perturbs him. Nothing provokes him. The most daring remarks are met with a somewhat weary smile. Oh, and he has the best possible manners! "Miss Parker, it's a pleasure to see you, as it always is, if you will permit me to say so" he had announced lightly with that fine voice of his, in the crisp accents of the highest aristocracy. That is another point. Nobody speaks quite as elegantly as Lord Darlington does. Funnily enough, Darlington is the one who always calls Surrey out for drifting into what Gigi has dubbed "The Aristo Hiss", that almost unintelligible mode of speaking Dominic St. Yves employs whenever he decides he has to let the rest of the world feel his absolute superiority — or in that case "abslit spriorty".

Like Dominic St. Yves, James Crawford, the Earl of Darlington is the product of centuries of exquisite breeding and knows it. Although contrary to his friend Surrey, he would never make one feel how far above one he actually stands. And where Surrey is moody and dark, Darlington is golden. His hair is golden, his green eyes have golden flecks, yes even his skin has a golden tinge to it. He is quite alike in colouring to Eugenia, now that I think of it. But I don't think they are related in any way.

His frame is slightly wider than that of Lackerby, Darlington's more of an athlete, with broad shoulders and slim hips... the ideal of any sculptor. His features do look chiselled and polished to me, so maybe he was not actually born from a mother's womb but sculpted from golden marble, if there is such a thing. I'll have to ask somebody. Who would know? Well, Darlington, I guess.

But he is ever so polished and despises any faux-pas. The first thing he had to say to Clara upon arrival had been "Don't you think this dress is somewhat osé for a girl of your age?" The poor Clara had not known what to say, it was a very thin dress, still nothing outrageous. But with Darlington everything needs to be "comme-il-faut!"

The Earl certainly has his share of female company, I'm sure of it, but he is so discreet that nobody would have any idea who his current favour resides upon. Most certainly it does not reside on me, he hardly..."





SPLASH.

Flora looked up as she heard the noise.

SPLASH.

There it was again. What was it? A fish? Flora peeked through the leaves towards the lake, but saw nothing. She was just about to return to her writing when she heard it again.