Chapter 8
January 9
A very small layer of ice covered the stream. Christopher tied his horse's reign to the branch, and walked around the ground, searching. It took him only a few minutes to find what he was looking for, a sturdy stick that he used to break the ice... Both horses were thirsty and greedily satisfied their thirst. Henry was leaning against a tree, his back braced against it. They had ridden hard and fast, despite the cold. Their scarves were rolled into the neck of their coats, their cheeks reddened by the brisk wind. They would let the horses rest a while, before heading back to the stables. The sun was dark, the clouds were low.
"I think it will be colder this night and there might even be snow in the morning", stated Christopher coolly, with a small smile.
Henry simply nodded in acquiescence.
"I like the snow, I miss it. There is never enough snow in this country." He added.
This time, Henry shook his head in disagreement.
"No, I don't miss it. Our house was never warm enough; the morning were the worst, the fire having died at night" he reminisced.
"In our village, the families would move into the long house. Children would huddle together. I had a friend, Rain Cloud." Christopher left his sentence hanging, noticing Henry's reticence.
The silence fell between the two men.
Henry's horse neighed and it broke the strand; Christopher asked "I would like to invite Angelica to father's house in London. I could have him organize a ball; I believe father would like it if I asked him".
"Unless I am mistaking, you like her a lot more than your father does?" Henry was glad of the change of subject. As long as Christopher was acting like he always did, as the heir of Lord's Dunsmore, as his old friend, Henry was relieved.
January 12 – Oxford
Christopher had sent his card to her aunt and had received a letter granting him permission to call on her next Friday, for tea, at 3 pm. He made arrangement immediately for a rented coach to pick him up at 2; for his coat to be brushed clean by the lady who was cleaning Henry and his' room. He even made sure to have his favorite piece of cloth around neck well ironed out. This was an afternoon depleting a month's worth of expense. He wondered idly if he should ask his father for a higher stipend – if he intended to become one of her regular suitor, he wondered how his budget would fare.
Henry told him not too worry, he had a little more to spend every month and was willing to cover the extra expenses.
At five minutes to 3, the driver of the coach pulled in front of Lady Oswell Oxford's cottage; Christopher stepped out eagerly.
He pulled a pence from inside his pocket.
"Here my good man, for getting me on time", he said, as he handed him the coin with a slightly shaking hand.
The liveried man bowed, lifted his reigns and went away.
Left to his device, Christopher took a deep breath, and then a second one. He stared in the clear blue sky, took a step forward and went to the fenced in yard.
He walked up the steps, three steps, a little icy on the right side. It was a clear cold day, brisk and humid as England could be before January left. Time was ticking. He raised his glove right hand, checked his coat one last time, touched his hair, and then vigorously grabbed the doorknob and tapped strongly on the thick oak door.
He didn't have to wait long; Mister Hammond came to the door. Lady Oswell's butler and manservant was an fine elderly man, smart grey eyes in a thickly wrinkled face.
"Mister Dunsmore, may I take your coat", he asked soberly, noticing and harrumphing on the lack of a hat. "Lady Oswell and her niece are in the parlor."
As soon as he had hung the fine woolen dark blue coat on the hanger by the door, Mister Hammond lead the young man toward the second door on the left.
Angelica was sitting in a small chair, a piece of tissue in her hand, a needle in the other. As Mister Hammond walked into the parlor, she started to blush. Christopher Dunsmore had sent his card last week, requesting to visit and she hadn't sleep well, thinking of meeting him as a suitor at last. Her aunt was sitting by the window, a book of poetry in hand. The nice smell leather of the cover, the brisk turning of page, had been the only constant in the afternoon. Sun was streaking from the large window, the thick golden drapes having been opened to let the sky and light flowed through.
Mister Hammond announced the young man arrival.
Christopher walked in, formally bowed to Lady Oswell, addressing her in a smooth voice "My lady, I am charmed to be here. I hope you had a good Christmas with your family and friend."
He didn't look at the charming green-eyes young woman and wouldn't until Lady Oswell decided to allow him to.