Page 29 of It Takes Two to Tumble
“We both know that’s impossible.”
“No,” Ben said, his fists clenched at his sides. “We don’t.” This was too close to the central problem of Ben’s life for him to talk about calmly, so he made what he hoped was an apologetic gesture and turned away to watch the children.
Dacre didn’t walk away. Ben had thought he’d surely take any opportunity to leave, but he stayed beside Ben. Several minutes passed before either of them spoke. “Earlier, when they were talking to me,” Dacre said, his voice gruff, “it felt... normal. I think they were pleased with me. Thank you.”
“You did the work,” Ben said softly. “You showed them they could trust you, and now they do. They’re fonder of you than I would have thought, if I’m honest,” he added impishly.
Dacre stomped his boot in the shallow water to splash Ben, and Ben laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean? I inspire fondness in all sorts of people.”
Ben looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can attest to the truth of that.”
When he looked back at Dacre, he found the man blushing.
In truth, Ben was pleased to see that once they realized that their father was not going to ship them off to school or consign them to the nearest tutor, the Dacre children accepted his presence, and later his participation, in their activities. The children had lost their mother and would soon be without their father for another extended sea voyage. It seemed to Ben that what this family needed most was time together, time to remind the children that they weren’t orphans, alone in the world.
The sun began to dip below the hills, and the children splashed barefoot in the shallow water while the dog ran back and forth. Ben perched in a branch of a tree, and Dacre seemed to be having a bit of a sleep against the trunk.
Despite his misgivings about his future, Ben had no doubt about the present. He was content with the Dacres and he knew he had achieved something good. He had restored something important to the entire family. This was why he had endured his father’s scorn and his brothers’ confusion by going into the church. When people needed help, they went to a clergyman. And he wanted to be that person who people turned to for help. Somebody had to fill in the gaps—make sure the elderly had company, the sick solace, the poor food. He had spent his childhood doing that for his family and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of the life doing more of the same.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels, and he turned to see a gig approaching. That was strange, because they were on Dacre’s land and Phillip hadn’t mentioned expecting anybody. He dropped down from the tree and stepped towards the conveyance.
There he saw the last two people on earth he had wanted to see.
Phillip looked up at the sound of carriage wheels to see a strange gig approaching. It was being driven by a man who was dressed at the absolute height of fashion, and by his side was a very pretty young lady whom Phillip did not recognize.
“Hullo!” cried the lady, pulling off her hat to wave it towards the lake. “Is that you looking like an urchin over there, Benedict?” She had hair a few shades darker than Ben’s, more dark gold than flax.
“A sad lack of dignity,” murmured her companion. He had maneuvered the conveyance close enough so that Phillip could see and hear them quite clearly despite being concealed by the shade of the tree he leaned against. “Look, he’s about to come greet us, as if he’s decent. My eyes, Alice.”
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Ben said to the gentleman, shrugging into his coat. “Your letter made it sound like you’d come in August.”
“Well, London got a bit too hot to hold me,” the gentleman said.
Phillip could see Ben frown at this. “And Alice, I’m so glad to see you out of doors.”
“It’s Hartley’s doing. He came to the house looking for you, and only found me instead. And then he insisted on putting me into his new gig—”
“What was the use of buying the thing if not to escort the prettiest woman in Cumberland?”
“And I haven’t even fallen out!” she added triumphantly.
“I should dashed well think not,” the gentleman said. “Would be most unbecoming, and if you expect me to drive around with a woman who’s covered in dust, you can guess again, Alice.”
“And a provincial woman in an unfashionable frock,” the lady added with a rueful shake of her head.
Phillip only understood enough to gather that the three of them were on terms of intimacy. He felt vaguely jealous of their easy camaraderie, and even more jealous when he realized that the lady must be the Alice Crawford Ben intended to marry. He stepped farther away from the little group, wishing he could disappear.
“Captain Dacre,” Ben called, not at all like he was doing a duty but as if he were genuinely eager to have Phillip’s company. “Miss Crawford, this is Captain Dacre. And Captain Dacre, this is my brother Hartley.”
Phillip bowed to each of them in turn. Now that he looked at this Mr. Hartley Sedgwick, he could see a faint family resemblance. Hartley was built on altogether more delicate lines than his brother, but the similarities were there. Phillip had the stray notion that Hartley took great care to prevent his skin from freckling the way his older brother’s did.
He was spared the necessity of attempting conversation by the twins’ loud whoops of laughter as they went careening into the lake. They were both fully dressed, so that was at least something to be thankful for. The dog evidently thought this a great emergency and barked at the top of his lungs.
“I had quite forgotten the bucolic charm of the country,” Mr. Hartley Sedgwick said dryly.
“Take him home and get him some smelling salts,” Ben said to Miss Crawford. “And a cool cloth to put over his eyes.” Then, as if realizing what he was saying, “Wait, Hartley, where are you staying? You can put up at the vicarage, but you’ll have to let Mrs. Winston know.”
“Never worry, brother. I took a room at the George and Dragon.”
