Both gentlemen were dressed in fine, expensive travelling suits, which made them an incredible curiosity in the eyes of the unpretentious, old rags clad Walsinghamians. The lords were quite young (Pastor Glowford, a judge of such things, gave them no more than thirty-five years of age), handsome and dapperly dressed. The peasants gazed at them with rapt attention and whispered, but the pastor called them loudly to return to the service and to sing a hymn of praise to the Lord.
The congregation, as one, rose from their pews. The lords who had arrived did likewise. The poor people had realised that it was unseemly to gaze at the noble lords and now carefully averted their curious glances, but the girls continued to sneak glances at the gentlemen. The three old women looked at the lords shamelessly and frowned, thinking that this must be the way the rich birds dressed, which, of course, they had never seen before.
One of the lords looked round the church and the congregation, scrutinising their faces.
– Who is that grey-haired old man with the stick? – he whispered to one of the young men standing nearby.
– That's Clif, our watchman," the young man replied cautiously, pleased and honoured to be spoken to by such a noble man.
– Watchman? And what does he guard? – The lord asked with a chuckle.
– The old mill," replied the lad.
– And who is that lady surrounded by children?
– That's our laundress Lilith.
– All those children are hers?
– Yes, she has eight children.
Of course, the country lad had no idea that a polite and respectful "sir" was required.
The gentleman smiled and continued looking at the villagers.
– How many children are there in the village? – He asked again.
– God knows. A lot! – The boy replied, shrugging his shoulders. – Ask the pastor, he's an educated man, not like us.
The curious gentleman's companion grinned: it seemed to him that he was in the Middle Ages, for the peasants were so horribly dressed, and the dilapidated church so poor.
– It seems to me, my friend, that with the manor you have become a great burden," he whispered to his noble friend.
– Yes, that's true," he said with a mocking smile.
– But you can change all that. These people seem to be no different from medieval manners.
– That's likely. If not manners, then religion.
Suddenly the first gentleman saw Catherine and Christine Glowfords: they stood almost at the altar, occupying the first pew. Christine's beauty immediately caught the lord's eye, and he turned again to his local informant.
– Who are those girls? – The lord asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the unfamiliar beauties.
– Which ones? – The lad didn't understand. – We have a lot of them in our village.
– The ones standing next to the grey-haired old woman whose head is shaking.
– The ones? They're the Glowfords, our parson's daughters. He's such a good man, our pastor!
– What are these girls' names?
– 'Kate and Chris,' replied the lad, in a rustic manner.
– The one in the white bonnet with the lace, who is she?
– Chris. Pretty, I tell you, but she's got a nose for everyone.
The lord scrutinised the figure of the girl who interested him and the soft, surprisingly beautiful profile of her face. Christine noticed someone's gaze on her and turned to look at the lord, frowning her lovely dark eyebrows at him. Her brown eyes, framed by long lashes, looked straight into the eyes of the noble gentleman, but when she saw that he was looking at her intently, the girl blushed slightly, became embarrassed, turned away hastily, and ducked her gaze into the open book she held in her hands.
"What a beautiful girl. It is amazing that in this wilderness you can find a treasure in the form of such a fresh rose" – thought the lord, still not taking his eyes off the beautiful girl: even in her old, rough dress, Christine was very beautiful. Kate, too, seemed pretty to the lord, but her beauty was pale and commonplace against Christine's.
When the congregation had finished singing the hymn, Pastor Glowford invited the new landlord down the aisle so that his subjects could see him.
The new landlord didn't make the pastor ask twice – it turned out to be a gentleman who had been gathering information about the peasants. Someone who liked Christine. He glimpsed the girl's face once more, but this time she didn't take her beautiful eyes off him.
Like all the girls in the church, Christine thought that the new landlord was very good-looking: tall, stately, well-built, clean-shaven, handsome, young, well-groomed, and his hair was thick, dark and beautifully styled. To the poor village girls, who had never seen such smart, well-groomed men before, he seemed to be a real beauty, a creature from another world beyond their reach, and an ambitious dream slipped into their hearts. All of them except Catherine and Cassie: Kate was too religious to think of such a thing, and Cassie did not understand the meaning of beauty, and besides, she was sleeping sweetly, nestled comfortably on a bench. But while in the hearts of other girls this vicious dream slipped and disappeared, in Christine's heart it took root and grew a flower of ambition: Christine saw that the lord was interested in her, but she feared that others would notice his interest in her and judge her, so she pretended not to notice his admiring gaze on her face.
The Landlord lifted his chin as he always did when he made a speech.
– Good morning, residents of Walsingham. Allow me to introduce myself: I am the Count of Draymore, your new Landlord. The manor of Rivershold, whose lands include your village, was recently inherited by me after the death of my much-loved uncle, who passed away in mid-March of this year. Today I have seen that your village is in a deplorable state. And I will help rebuild it. You can address all your needs to my secretary Mr. Grim, who will come to your village tomorrow. I can also see that you are conscientious, hard-working and religious people, so I will help you with sincere pleasure. But, alas, I have urgent business to attend to, and I must leave your kind society," he said loudly and resolutely.
The peasants listened to him with open mouths.
– But, your Lordship, would you do us the great honour of staying at least until the end of the mass? – The parson, who wished to speak to him about the rebuilding of the church, asked him politely.
The Count hesitated, but, casting another quick glance at Christine, decided to stay. He nodded silently to the pastor and strode majestically to his pew.
The pastor continued the mass, but he found it difficult to interest the excited peasants, who were already whispering about what they could ask of the lord.
– Are you in your right mind? – his friend whispered unhappily to the landlord.
The prospect of another hour in this medieval atmosphere did not please him at all.
– Wait a moment, Dominic," replied the Count of Draymore.
Dominic, Viscount Wilworth followed his friend's gaze carefully and found out that he was looking at Christine Glowford.
– Have you found a new amusement? – he grinned. – But she is the pastor's daughter, I hope you remember that.
– I have no plans for her. It's just that I've never seen such beauties. To associate with a peasant girl would disgrace my name," Colin Draymore replied.
– I'm glad you realise that" his friend said gravely.
As the service came to an end, the congregation began to leave the church slowly. The noble gentlemen were the last to leave and headed for the beautiful carriage that was waiting for them at the entrance to the church.
But suddenly, as if a bright sun bunny appeared in the grey crowd of poor people, making both lords freeze in admiration.
