Page 93 of Not Quite a Lady
‘Well, yes. Or is it all entailed?’ Lily was not quite certain what an entail was, but she knew it was some sort of legal device to prevent one generation from selling their descendants’ inheritance.
‘Some of it is.’ He was still treating the suggestion as ludicrous. ‘But I could not sell land.’
‘Why not? Is it not worth much?’ Lily had gone beyond any attempt at tactfulness in her need to understand.
‘An acre here is not worth as much as an acre of, say, Suffolk, grazing, but it has a reasonable money value all the same. But this is not about money. You do not understand, Lily.’
‘No. I do not. Explain it to me.’
‘I do not know if I can. The land is what we are, where we came from. Blood and bone. I sell this land over my dead body.’
That was plain enough, if still incomprehensible. Was land not just another asset? If she wanted to sell parts of the business to improve another section, then she would do it happily, even if it was something her father had bought and built up. That was how things worked.
Lily caught her lower lip between her teeth to stop herself saying as much. To do so would be to blunder, she could tell that.
She had come up hard against the heart-deep source of that pride that was so blatantly displayed by Adrian and which ran, like a seam of coal, through Jack. He had all this land, but the mine had his intense interest, took most of his time and energy.
Yet he would not sacrifice an acre to save the mine. She shook her head. This then was the gulf between the landed classes and the new rich: no amount of money could purchase the elusivecachetof ancestral lands.
‘Given up trying to understand me, Lily?’ Jack was smiling at her so at least she had not blundered too much.
‘I did that almost as soon as I met you,’ she retorted with an attempt at lightness. ‘My goodness, look, Lady Philpott.’
‘Where?’ Jack stood in his stirrups and stared round. ‘And who the devil is Lady Philpott?’
Lily pointed with her whip at a Roman-nosed sheep which was regarding her stolidly. ‘The nose, and that ridiculous clump of curls on top of its head. Lady Philpott is very much given to turbans.’
Jack snorted with laughter and urged his mount closer, scattering the sheep. ‘One hopes she is not as dim-witted as a sheep, or one must be deeply sorry for her husband.’
Despite his words Lily could see he was checking the animals, running a knowledgeable eye over them.
‘They’re in good fettle this year.’
‘What is that?’ Lily pointed to a plume of grey smoke rising over the edge of the moor.
‘The smoke from the engine house at the pit head.’ Jack wheeled round and began to head back towards the valley. ‘And no, Lily, before you ask, we are not going to look at it.’
‘Why not?’
Because you do not want me interfering in your precious mine. Because I blundered once and I have not been forgiven.
‘Because it is dirty, rough and dangerous and no place for a lady.’
Lily urged Chaffinch up beside the grey. ‘I have ridden through Indian hill country and camped out in dacoit territory. I have sailed half way around the world. I have been in more factories than I can count. I am not one of your conventional ladies, Jack.’
‘No?’ He twisted in the saddle to look at her, his expression bleak. ‘Then I think it will be safer all round if you become one.’
Chapter Twenty Two
Lily and Jack arrived back at the castle to find that the informal dance had become the ideal opportunity to announce Caroline’s betrothal to the world.
Caroline was looking radiant, Susan and Penelope were hugging themselves with glee, Lady Allerton was viewing the happy couple tolerantly and only the prospective bridegroom appeared to be suffering any apprehension.
‘Caroline, I really feel I should have spoken to Lord Allerton before we announced this.’ His earnest face was anxious and did not lighten when Jack swung down from his horse and came over.
‘I imagine you had every intention of doing so before you said anything to my sister,’ he said, shaking Willoughby by the hand. ‘But ten minutes alone with her and she had undermined every very proper resolution you had formed.’ He added, straight-faced, ‘The girl is a minx – I am amazed you are prepared to take her on.’
Ignoring his betrothed’s highly vocal protests Willoughby cleared his throat and responded earnestly, ‘I will not have it so! I am afraid that the merest suggestion that Miss Lovell was not indifferent to my suit was enough to undermine every principle on my part and I most improperly spoke my mind.’
