I smiled. "Not in the least," I said. "But how has Mr. Carruthers become an exalted gentleman?"
"By the death of the cousin. You see, the Earl was the son of Dougal's father's elder brother, so he got the title and the family estates. Dougal's father was just a younger son. I gathered from Dougal that he was rather pleased about that. Like his son, he was the studious type. I am not sure what his obsession was. The Byzantine Empire, I fancy. Dougal takes after him with his Anglo-Saxons and Normans. Alas for Dougal. The present has impinged itself on the past. He will have to tear himself away from Hengist and Horsa and Boadicea, most likely, and think a little about his obligations to the present."
"I daresay he will enjoy it. He will probably have the money to continue with his research in the way he wanted it."
"Great estates are demanding and he may not find it so easy. In any case I thought I ought to warn you that we shall doubtless see little of him from now on. These things change people, you know."
"I do not believe they will change him."
"He's too wise, you think?"
"I do think that. He would never be arrogant."
I looked at him and he smiled. "As some people are," he murmured.
"Yes, as some people are."
"Well, we shall see. But it will mean that he will not be here to enjoy those little picnics in ruined places. I thought I should warn you."
"Thank you."
"It is a pity that the picnics cannot continue."
"There was only one ... in which you shared."
"Into which I forced myself. It would be rather pleasant not to have to do that. Why do we not have a picnic of our own ... you and I?"
"It would be quite impossible."
"Whenever I hear that word I am always challenged to disprove it."
"You are not interested in ruins."
"You could teach me."
I laughed at him. "I don't think you would relish the idea of being taught anything."
"You are mistaken. I am avid for knowledge ... particularly the kind which you can supply."
"I don't quite know what that means."
"Now you are looking like a teacher ... a little severe ... rather displeased with the bad boy and wondering whether to give him a hundred lines or make him stand in the corner with the dunce's cap on his head."
"I am sure I implied nothing of the sort."
"I shall see if I can discover a ruin you have never seen ... and tempt you."
"Don't bother. I am sure I should not be able to come with you."
"I shall never give up hope," he said and added, "teacher."
"If you will excuse me I have several things to do."
"Let me help you."
"You could not really. They are parish matters."
"Which you perform with Mr. Brady?"
"Oh, no ... he has his own affairs. You have no idea what has to be done in a rectory ... and with my father not so well we are very busy."
"Then I must detain you no longer. I will see you very soon. Au revoir."
When he had gone I could not get him out of my thoughts. It made me forget Dougal's elevation to high rank and fortune. Then I began to consider that and to wonder what difference it would make to him and to our relationship, which was just beginning to flower into something deeper.
Colin Brady said to me, "We should be thinking about the summer fete."
"Everyone knows it is to be on the first Saturday in August. It always has been. Most of them have been working for months getting things together for the stalls."
"The rector was saying that it is the custom to ask permission of the Framlings to hold it in the grounds and if it is wet to use the hall. I suppose it's big enough."
"Oh, yes. It's vast. There have only been a few occasions in my memory when we have had to go inside. The Framlings know about it. It's a tradition and Lady Harriet has always granted permission most graciously."
"Yes, but your father says it has to be asked for. That is also a part of the tradition."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, Lady Harriet is in London with her daughter. We shall have to make the request to Sir Fabian."
"I should hardly think that was necessary."
"But he should be asked."
"It would be different if Lady Harriet were there. She is a stickler for convention."
"I think it would be wise to ask Sir Fabian ... just as a gesture. Perhaps you would go and get his formal consent."
"If you are passing ... it would only be a matter of looking in."
"Well, I have to go and see Mrs. Brines today. She has been confined to her bed for several weeks and is asking to see me. Also I have a good deal to sort out ... so if you could see your way ..."
There was no reason why I should not do it, except that I felt uneasy about approaching Fabian. But I could not refuse without explaining, so I thought I would go over, quickly make the request and get it over.
Sir Fabian was at home, I was told. I asked if they would tell him that I had merely come to ask his permission for the fete to be held in the grounds if the weather was fine and in the hall if it was wet. I would not take up much of his time.
I was hoping the maid would come back and say that permission was granted so that I could be on my way. Instead she came back with the news that Sir Fabian was in his study and would be pleased to see me there.
I was ushered across the great hall to the staircase. His study was on the second floor.
He rose as I entered and came towards me, smiling. He took both my hands.
"Miss Delany! How nice to see you. You've come about the fete, they tell me."
The maid went out, shutting the door, and that feeling of mingling excitement and apprehension was with me.
"Do please sit down."
"I shan't stop," I said. "It's a formality really. Lady Harriet usually grants permission for the grounds to be used, and if it is wet, the hall."
"Oh, my mother always deals with that sort of thing, doesn't she?"
"There is nothing to be dealt with really. Framling has always been used for the fete. I just want to get formal permission, so I will say 'thank you' and 'goodbye.' "
"But you haven't got my permission yet."
"It is really taken for granted."
"Nothing should ever be taken for granted. I should like to discuss this with you."
"But there is nothing to discuss. It is the same every year. So I may take it as granted ... ?"
He had risen and I immediately did the same. He came close to me.
"Tell me," he said, "why are you afraid of me?"
"Afraid? Of you?"
He nodded. "You look like a frightened fawn who has heard the approach of a tiger."
"I do not feel in the least like a frightened fawn. Nor do you strike me as being tigerish."
"Then a bird of prey perhaps ... a rapacious eagle, ready to swoop on a helpless creature. You know, you should not be frightened of me, for I am very fond of you and the more I see you the fonder I grow."
"That is good of you," I said coolly. "But I must go."
"It is not good of me. It is an involuntary emotion and one for which I cannot personally take credit."
I laughed with an attempt at lightness.
"Well," I said, "I take it we can go ahead with plans for the fete."
He put his hands on my shoulders and drew me towards him.
"Sir Fabian?" I said in surprise, drawing back.