The Village Spinster by Laura Matthews

a rakish aspect in the glow, reminding her of the young man he had once been.
    The earl grimaced at the rawness of the wound. “It might indeed be wise to shave the hair off around it,” he said.
    Aria’s eyes fluttered to Clarissa, but she said nothing.
    “I’m able to apply lotion through her hair, Lord Kinsford,” Clarissa assured him.
    “But how will it heal with all that hair? At least right at the wound the hair could be snipped away.” He turned to his sister. “Aria, it’s not as though you’ll have a great bald spot, for heaven’s sake. The hair above will cover any little patch we must remove.”
    “I don’t wish you to do it,” she said flatly, tossing her head. “The doctor didn’t say it had to be done.”
    Kinsford suddenly backed off. With a smile he said, “Very well. I’m sure he knows best. Perhaps Miss Driscoll would leave the candle so we can go over your watercolors. I'd like you to tell me about them.”
    Clarissa was amused to be so handsomely dismissed. She placed the candle on a table and handed him the sketch book which lay hidden under the open copy of Evelina. As Clarissa slipped out of the room, she heard the earl make a handsome remark about the uniqueness of subject and spirit in Lady Aria’s work.
    Ready for the pot of tea Meg would have prepared, Clarissa moved to the dining parlor. For a while she could hear a low murmur of voices from the sitting room. As she drank her tea she worked out on a sheet of foolscap just where she would plant the herbs in the kitchen garden next week. The weather was getting finer by the day and the chances of a late frost were low. If the lemon thyme were kept close to the cottage, if would do better; the sweet marjoram and basil could stand more exposure. When the earl spoke behind her, Clarissa started, so deep was she in her plans.
    “Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “I thought you must have heard me come out of the sitting room.”
    She pushed aside the sheet of foolscap. “No, but it is of no importance. Is Lady Aria in need of something?”
    “She’s fallen asleep.”
    He didn’t seem to know quite how to proceed and Clarissa waved him to a seat at the table. When he hesitated, she said, “Please. We should discuss matters. I fear you’re vexed with me.”
    He did not deny it. Meg had set two cups on the table and Clarissa lifted the pot with a query in her eyes. He nodded. “No milk, thank you. We got used to tea without milk on the Peninsula and I continue to drink it that way.”
    After she had poured his tea, she offered him the plate of biscuits that she herself had ignored. Meg had obviously put them out for the sole purpose of tempting Lord Kinsford, and she succeeded. He helped himself to one of the soft molasses treats, tasted it and his brows lifted. “If your maid serves these to the children, it’s no wonder they so much enjoy coming here.”
    “That must be the secret,” Clarissa said, her eyes dancing. “There couldn’t be any other excuse for their enjoying their time in my home.”
    “I didn’t mean to insult you, Miss Driscoll. Merely to praise the biscuits.”
    “I know what you meant.” She forced herself to meet those intense blue eyes. “For a man of your experience, you are sometimes less than successful in dealing with the young members of your family. Both William and Lady Aria seem to expect nothing from you but scolds and discipline. I realize you are unaccustomed to handling such spirited young people, but somehow I think you might manage it better.”
    “This is plain speaking,” he rejoined. “I had no idea we were on such terms as to admit of your dressing me down, Miss Driscoll.”
    His set-down was lost on her. “My concern is not with protocol, nor with preserving your more tender sensibilities, sir, but with the integrity and happiness of my pupils. I am not even concerned with your allowing them to remain my pupils,” she said, forestalling him. “I have already achieved a great