He was the famous garden architect known for designing the landscapes of many prominent estates. He liked smooth grass and clumps of trees or bushes. And, like Sarah’s uncle, Mr. Lancelot “Capability” Brown created many artificial, serpentine-like lakes by damming rivers. The fashionable gardener had once compared the structure of a garden to that of a sentence: “There I make a comma, and there, where a more decided turn is proper, I make a colon; at another part, where an interruption is desirable to break the view, a parenthesis; now a full stop, and then I begin another subject.” Christopher’s father had tried to use Mr. Brown’s philosophies in the creation of his canals. He had wanted them to add beauty to the landscape as well as a convenient way to move supplies and goods over a great distance in a short time.
Sarah spun her parasol. “He believed in improving on nature. I do not think anyone could improve upon Manderfield’s formal gardens, but I will own that Mr. and Mrs. Robinson’s landscapeis delightfully untamed, unlike my poor uncle Oscar’s style of gardening, which is nature at its most pretentious. We will have to explore the grounds of Westbrook Park farther the next time we are there.”
“And when shall we go there?” Deborah asked.
Sarah stopped spinning her parasol’s handle. “I received a note from my aunt this very morning. She has already sent out invitations for a party to celebrate our wedding in a month.”
“Why so far away?” Deborah demanded.
Christopher had wondered as well, but he’d been taught his entire life not to question his betters.
His wife, however, did not seem at all discomposed. “Aunt Venetia wished to invite the entire family and thought some might need a little more time to make the journey. But never fear; she has tasked her cook to begin making different cakes so that the most superior-flavored one will be chosen for the wedding cake.”
Christopher’s hand moved to his collar, but he stopped himself once again from pulling it. He contented himself with rubbing his trimmed beard. He wasn’t sure he was ready to meet all of Sarah’s grand relations. He was just getting used to being married to a lady. He did not wish to be surrounded by lords and ladies and dukes and duchesses. Nor did he want his sisters to see how his grand relations treated him. He expected the same cool condescension he’d received from the Honorable Ralph. He knew that Deborah would fly to his defense and Margaret would be disappointed. He could only pray Sarah’s toplofty family would be kind to his sisters.
Margaret wrinkled her nose. “One would not wish for an inferior flavor of sponge for a wedding cake.”
Sarah grinned. “I don’t know why the flavor matters at all. Aunt Venetia wants to break the cake over Christopher’s headand my own. Supposedly it is a local custom and a superstition for good luck.”
Dropping her parasol, Deborah shook her head. “You are pulling our legs.”
His wife held out her right hand solemnly. “I assure you that I am not. And you will see for yourselves at Nelly and Guy’s wedding in three weeks.”
Christopher thought these names sounded familiar, but everyone in the neighborhood of Eden was still new to him.
Deborah closed her parasol with a snap. “You mean to attend your maid’s marriage?”
Sarah leaned a little against Christopher’s shoulder. “I hope to be asked to be her attendant. Nelly Mills is my oldest friend. I would not miss her wedding for any reason. And I am sure the entire village will come out to celebrate. Both Guy and Nelly are very popular amongst the younger set.”
“The footman,” Christopher said out loud as he realized who the groom was.
His wife nodded against his shoulder.
“We’ll have to give them both a week off with pay as a gift and have Cook prepare a wedding breakfast for all their guests,” he said.
Sarah pulled away from him, but only to look Christopher in the eyes as she smiled up at him in approval. “How very thoughtful you are.”
In that moment, Christopher would have given the pair a year of paid leave.
“I should like to come too,” Margaret said, blushing a little and looking down at her hands. Christopher wondered if his sister was just being polite or if she wished for another opportunity to see the handsome young vicar.
“I suppose I shall as well,” Deborah said, kicking her foot against the seat. “I don’t wish to be the only one left out.”
Christopher hoped neither of his sisters would feel left out at the garden party.
The landau pulled up to the front of Hanford House, and a footman opened the carriage door. Christopher alighted first and then helped his wife and sisters. Sarah thanked the footman by name and again took Christopher’s arm. She led him and his sisters to where the other guests were gathering. Several white tents had been set up on the south side of the house, with tables and chairs. Flowers in vases served as centerpieces, as well as towers of fruit and biscuits. It was lovelier than any tradesmen’s ball he had ever attended.
Mrs. Robinson greeted them with a slight upturn of her thin lips. “Husband, may I introduce Miss Moulton, Miss Deborah, and Mr. Moulton? Lady Sarah you already know.”
At first glance, Christopher did not think Mr. Brian Robinson resembled his father much. Mr. Robinson’s hair was as white as a rabbit’s pelt of fur. He had tired blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and thin lips. His height and form, however, were very like his son’s, if a bit broader from time. He appeared to be near fifty but was still fit. Christopher also noticed that the shape of the man’s face and the line of his jaw was identical to his son’s, as was the man’s smile. “Delighted to welcome you to the neighborhood, Moulton. I have seen your canal from the Dunkerton pits to Bath, a countryside as highly picturesque as any in the kingdom.”
Christopher’s lips twitched at the mention of the picturesque countryside. He was pleased with the comparison, even if his lovely wife did not approve of Capability Brown’s landscapes. “We do our best to make the canals look as natural as possible, sir.”
Mr. Robinson shook his hand warmly and suggested that they go hunting a morning next week. Pleased, Christopher agreed to it on the spot, even though he was not at all handy with a gun.
He watched Sarah speak to each of Mr. Robinson’s stepdaughters: Miss Lake, Miss Olivia, and Miss Lily. They were standing near their mother and helping welcome the guests.
Why wasn’t Mr. Brian Robinson beside them? Christopher spotted the tall vicar speaking to another young gentleman under the shade of a tree near the first tent. The other man was likely Mr. Whitman. His features met Sarah’s description. His sideburns were very red, despite the brown of the rest of his hair. Sarah and his sisters seemed well occupied speaking to the other ladies, so Christopher set off to approach the young men. He meant to follow Sarah’s advice and offer his hand in friendship first.