"I am always recovering from something," Leonora said. "It is a feminine occupation."
Jemima made a small sound that might have been a cough. Pewsey's gaze flicked to her and back.
"I wished to speak to your father. And to you. Privately, if Miss Crowle will excuse us."
"Miss Crowle will not," Jemima said pleasantly. "I am practicing the art of being a difficult witness."
Pewsey's mouth thinned. "Very well. Then hear me in company. There is talk already, Leonora. Not loud. Not yet. A postponed visit. A scene in a carriage court. A stable lad with a torn shirt. I can quiet it by marrying you quickly and taking you to Pewsey Park, where yards are better managed. Or I can let it run, and see what Hampshire makes of an Ashbrook daughter who prefers straw to silver. I am not a cruel man. I am a practical one. Choose the practical road."
Leonora felt Jemima go rigid beside her. She set her embroidery down with care.
"Mr. Pewsey," she said, "you have mistaken me for a person who can be walked toward a cliff and thanked for the view. I will not marry you to hush a story you helped begin. If Hampshire has opinions, Hampshire may air them. I have lungs of my own."
Pewsey looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled again, and this time it was almost sad.
"I had hoped you would be wiser than your mother," he said. "She made a romance of a soldier once, and spent the rest of her life waiting for him to come back from places he never described. Ask your father how well that ended for the household accounts."
"You will leave my mother's name where you found it," Leonora said.
He bowed. "Tell Sir Ridley I called. Tell him practical roads close if one lingers at the gate."
When he had gone, Jemima exhaled hard. "What a soft voice for a threat."
"Yes," Leonora said. "Soft things cut if you sharpen them."
"Shall I write to my aunt in Bath and hurry Sir Ridley's confirmation along? Aunt Crowle loves a packet of truth almost as much as she loves Bath buns."
"Write," Leonora said. "And Jemima—thank you for not leaving."
"I am practicing," Jemima said. "Difficult witnesses must begin somewhere."
VII.
The letter from Bath arrived on the sixth day, carried by the Winchester coach and brought up the drive by a boy with mud to his knees. Sir Ridley took it into the library and read it standing, as if sitting would make the words heavier.