There was something about the little brook on the edge of her father's property that brough her peace and tranquillity.
The scenario was certainly inviting. Dried leaves littered the ground in hues of red, orange, yellow and brown, while the small course of water flowed on a quiet grumble. However, that was not really the reason why she liked the place.
When Susan was just a little girl, her mother and her grandmother did not get along very well, especially just after her grandfather passed and the command over the household was still up in the air. Whenever Lady Mary felt as if she would explode, when she was mumbling profanities in Breton under her breath, she would whisk away her two children for a walk around the property.
Before her brother Harry was sent off to boarding school in Eton, some five years ago, she would often take autumn walks with her family, even on occasion her father would join in the promenade. It became a tradition to spend at least one day every week out in the forest or at the garden, where the leaves crunched beneath their feet, the chilly wind blew through their figures and they could have a meal out under the sky.
It was one of her fondest memories and one thing she missed the most while staying alone in Edgewater. Her father found it to be unnecessary for her to debut in London society, but would often take her mother with him to the capital while the Parliament was in session. Her grandmother would be left in charge of the property administration and of Susan, but no matter how well she did on her lessons and how well-mannered she became, Dominique had no patience for her granddaughter, and would often send her away.
Taking those walks alone felt lonely. For the past few years, she enjoyed her autumn walks alone, or at least tried to. After the third year, she had grown accustomed to the feeling of loneliness but such acquaintanceship with the sentiment did not remove its sting.
Going on walks during the Summertime with Harry cracking jokes and her mother singing and her father smiling softly as he carried a basket full of pastries, that was what she missed. However, she was a smart girl and she quickly realized that she would have to settle for those walks. It was better than sewing in silence at the drawing room, having to listen to every disparaging comment her grandmother proffered at her.
Susan felt herself to slip just a little sadness into her heart whenever she started to walk, as she passes through the kitchen door under the accustomed but still judgemental gaze of the servants, wishing for someone to magically appear and join her, but, naturally, it never happened. She could only dream.
The trees were bare and the air was becoming cooler with every passing day. Winter was getting close, which meant she had limited time to enjoy the autumn weather before snow would pack down. Soon, her parents would be back, and she would be entertained with preparations for the Yule celebrations.
This afternoon, Susan took the same path as she always did. She walked through the elaborate hedges, away from the main house, towards the toiled fields. If she walks far enough, she would eventually reach the garden pond, where her mother keeps her pet swans and exotic fish.
Before she reaches the middle of the garden, however, she turns to her left, towards the servants' lodge. Her destination was a narrow path behind the stablemaster's tiny cottage which, after a few twists and turns, would lead her to a wider walking trail lined with tall trees.
The area was beautiful, even more so during the autumn season. The tiny brook had a shallow bed, filled with smooth gravel, and was surrounded both sides by tall, leafy trees. A large rock of about three meters stood by the water, on the Edgewater side of the body. A calming atmosphere surrounded the place, filling her lungs with fresh air, relaxing her nerves.
Susan climbed up the rock, sat down and opened a bag she usually brought along on her walks. Inside laid a copy of Practical Education and a piece of bread. Letting out a heavy breath, she cracked open her book and began reading quietly, enjoying the rustling sound of the water.
An hour into her reading, the young noble girl hears a rustling noise coming from the other side of the brook. Debating on whether she should turn around to leave or stay to find out who it was, she eventually chose the latter and quietly walked towards the source of the noise.
As Susan creeps besides a tree, she sees a figure running away through the neighbouring property. She picked up a gravel stone on the floor and, with a perfect shot, threw it on the intruder's head.
"Ow, Goddamnit!" A man's voice resounded through the forest. He stopped on his tracks, kneeling over and rubbing his head.
Susan gasped and raced ahead. "Oh my God, I'm really sorry."
She kneeled next to the man, hovering her hand on his shoulder, discussing whether she should touch and try to help him. The brunette girl noticed that he was a tall man, finely dressed with a blue overcoat, and a curly, light brown hair.
"Are you okay?" The aristocratic girl asked once more when the man would not respond, now standing in front of him with a concerned expression.
He looks up, blinks twice in what seems surprise, and nods. "I am alright. You have a good shot, miss."
The brunette smiled shily at the comment. Looking more appraisingly at the mysterious figure, she had felt like she had seen him before but she could not exactly pinpoint when. There was just something about his grey-blue eyes that seemed so familiar to her.
Her expression darkened. "What were you doing here? It is private property."
"Indeed." The blue-eyed man grumbled. "It is my private property. I am Ernest Sinclair, the master of Ledford Park."
Susan gasped once more, placing both of her hands at her mouth. She threw a rock at an esquire, on his own land.
So that was why he seemed so familiar. The Sinclaire family owned the property next to hers since the days of the Interregnum. The Earl had many good words to say about the family, especially the young heir.
She also remembered that, no more than three years ago, the old esquire passed away and his son, Ernest himself, had inherited the estate. The young man would spend many afternoons at the study with her father discussing administration, business and politics.
It was a wonder how she has not recognized him sooner, even if they have never been formally introduced. She had spied his figure from the staircases of her stately home, or a few pews behind on Sunday sermons.
"My name is Susan Foredale." She replied hastily as she managed a sloppy bow, underwhelming from someone of her standing. "I am the daughter of your neighbour, the Earl of Edgewater. Please, accept my most earnest apologies for hitting you. My actions would deeply shame my parents."
"It is I who should offer you my excuses, Miss Foredale." He said, a deep voice used to disguise his nervousness. "You should be on guard while walking unchaperoned in such empty trails."
The young lady approached the esquire. "Even so, it is more than a slight to attack a man at his own estate."
"It is all correct, miss." He dismissed. "Do not let me keep you from enjoying your afternoon."
"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Sinclaire." She bowed, more gracefully this time, and turned away from him.
"Wait." The man called her. She turned around once more. "Would you be opposed to my company?"
"Excuse me?" She asked, confused.
"I would love to take a refresher by the brook, too. Afterwards, I could walk you back to Edgewater, too." He responded, smiling meekly.
Susan softened her gaze in kindness. "Of course, Mr. Sinclaire. I would love it."
They walked back to the small course of water in silence, with Susan reassuming her position on the rock, while Ernest took off his boots to wash his feet on the icy brook.
"How did you find this place?" He asked her suddenly.
She looked up from her book. "My mother did, when she married my father and moved here from London. She liked to take a breather from the home every once in a while. When we were old enough, she showed the way to me and my brother. How about you, Mr. Sinclaire?"
He shrugged delicately. "I have seen it on the maps of the property when I was a boy. I come visiting every once in a while."
"How have I never seen you here?" Now it was her turn to ask the questions. He had mentioned that he came often, yet she came every day and never has she ever seen him before.
"I come in the mornings." He responded, simple. "I assume you come in the afternoons?"
It was a lie, of course. Having lost his mother at childbirth and his father not being much of a caring man, Ernest was left to his own devices ever since he was young. One day, walking the property, he came across Lady Mary and her children on one of their visits to the brook, and he was enchanted with the atmosphere of family bliss.
For years now, he had crept into the woods to observe the Foredale family whenever he had the chance, first the four of them, then just the Countess with her daughter, and finally just Susan alone. Over time, he came to realize how much of Mary's and Vincent's qualities blossomed on their daughter, and slowly and steadily he fell in love with her.
He hoped to woo her when she debuted in London, but she never did. The Earl kept his daughter under lock and key in Grovershire, even if he praised her accomplishments to any willing ear in their circles. Alas, the young esquire did not lose hope, he patiently waited for an opportunity to be acquainted to her, while fighting tooth and nail to avoid any betrothal contract his father might have forged and hoping the Earl would not have the same idea, and if he did, that he would consider the boy next door.
By a stroke of chance, it would appear, his waiting was over. He did not mean to give away his location, perish the thought, but he got distracted and made some noise. He was glad he did, though, because now he had the chance he had been hoping for.
Even if she did not know any of that.
"That is correct. I have lessons in the morning." Susan responded with a soft smile. "What brings you here?"
"I was busy with my tenants today, so I neglected my walk." He lied with surprising ease.
She shook her head with a chuckle. "No, I mean, what brings you here? What do you like about this place for you to come every morning?"
"I like that I get to be alone in here, that I get to listen to my thoughts attentively and without disturbance." Was his answer and a wave of realization washed over her.
"Oh God, I am so sorry! I must be a terrible nuisance to your reflexive moments, Mr. Sinclaire. I can leave if you would like." She offered with a weak and nervous smile.
Perhaps she should not have decided to investigate who the person behind the bushes was. She certainly should not have assaulted them. Jesus Almighty, she was an idiot.
"No, no, it is all correct." The man assured her with an amused smile. "I do not mind your presence, Miss Foredale. You seem to blend into our surroundings quite harmoniously. It is quite pleasant to have you here, too."
Feeling self-conscious, the young lady searched his face for any sign of lying, but she found none. He genuinely did not seem to mind her presence here when he could have been alone and despite only having met him five minutes ago, she did not mind having him here either.
In pleasant company, the hours soon passed them by, and the Autumn sun was setting on the horizon before they could take notice of the time.
"Should we go, Miss Foredale?" Ernest asks with a heavy heart, offering her his arm. "Your grandmother must be in search of you."
With an equally heavy heart, Susan shut her almost-finished book close nodded and wrapped her hand around the offered limb. It was surprisingly cold. She wonders if he does not feel the chills of the season.
"We shall, Mr. Sinclaire." She said, with a voice resembling Christmas bells. "I should show you the way. It is quicker than to turn around through the main road."
He tipped his head. "Of course. After you."
They made their way to Edgewater in companiable silence, remarking ever so often on the cry of a bird or on a species of tree.
When they reached the front door to her estate, nor her grandmother nor any of the help were to be seen. Her absence was certainly not felt at all that afternoon, just as it was not any other before, but she had other concerns on her mind to dally on such happenings.
"Thank you, Mr. Sinclaire, for the most enjoyable day." Susan said, a happy expression gracing her face.
"It is I who thank you, Miss Foredale. It has been a wonderful day to me, too. Your company is most appreciated." Ernest politely responded, a rare sincere smile on his face.
She bowed. "Good evening. Have a nice journey back to Ledford Park."
As she turned away to enter the manor, the esquire calls back. "Wait!"
"Yes?" The brunette asks, turning her sights back on him.
"If I may be so bold to ask…" He began, stuttering lightly from nerves. "May I have the privilege to call on you tomorrow? We can go walking again, or… Or perhaps you would prefer to stay indoors. I can offer you my company, and I can distract you with conversation. I suppose…"
Susan chuckled lightly. "I would love to have you again tomorrow. Come whenever you like, I will be waiting."
"S-Sure!" Ernest nods enthusiastically. "I will be back tomorrow."
With that, she slipped into the house and the esquire skipped his way home with a large smile on his face.
The next day, like clockwork, he appeared on the Edgewater's door just after lunch, ready to walk. He came every day for the rest of the season.
Months later, when Vincent and Mary arrived from London, Ernest was waiting with his request. Their daughter's hand in marriage. Much to the bafflement of them and even Lady Dominique's.
Of course, the overprotective father denied fervently at first, shouting at full force at him, accusing him of being a bad influence and swearing his mother was responsible for such atrocity and she would never be responsible for his horse, much less his daughter, ever again.
The esquire knew, however, that if he could wait out fate, he could wear out his neighbour's resistance, and he counted with the assistance of Susan, who worked her bases with Mary and Harry over their blessings.
Come Spring, Vincent relented and gave his consent to a private courting under his watchful eye, preferably in London. Ernest and Susan abided to every demand, and so were free to pursue their relationship.
Over the Summer, their love blossomed over the exciting social season in court, something the young man never cared for but had newfound joy over the opera and the society dinners, if he happened to be accompanying his beloved betrothed.
They had a beautiful Autumn wedding, eventually settling on Ledford Park. Every sunny day, they would make their way down to that lonely brook on the edge of the property. At first, they would go by themselves, but eventually they showed their own children the way.