To Susannah’s relief, Will apparently grasped the central issue: Effington must offer for Della.
“You bring me to my original point,” Susannah said. “The time has come for me to impress the world with my affection for dogs. Effington issued a challenge, and I’m ready to answer it.”
Will tugged gently on Samson’s ears—probably to comfort himself as much as the dog.
“Susannah, you have learned a great deal about how to interact with a canine, but if you had to choose between spending time with Georgette or with your volume of Shakespeare—for you are never without a volume of Shakespeare—which would you choose?”
“What a question, Willow.” Unfair, really, to compare a dog with the greatest talent ever to put pen to paper, though Susannah was without the Bard at that moment. “I’d choose Georgette over Titus Andronicus.” Old Titus was not Mr. Shakespeare’s best work, of course.
“I don’t like the look of that sky,” Will said, rising and offering Susannah his hand. “Let’s get you home, and please consider my suggestion. If Lady Della spent a few weeks in absentia, whoever has taken her into dislike might aim their spite elsewhere.”
Now Will’s tone was reasonable, and Susannah’s mood took on the quality of the sky. Unsettled, unpleasant. Had he really expected her to choose Georgette over the Bard?
“Instead of leaving Town, tail between my legs,” she said as she rose, “I’d like to show Effington that he was in error. I’m entirely comfortable around canines, and I will make him an ideal sister-in-law. The issue isn’t the dogs, it’s my willingness to bend to Effington’s expressed preferences.”
Last night, as Susannah had tossed and turned with anxiety for Della, insight had struck:
Effington was presenting Susannah with another version of the Mannering twins’ challenge: fit in, duck, dodge, avoid the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” such as those that were hurled about by members of Polite Society.
A willow tree could live for decades, through storms that felled oaks, because the willow had broad roots and supple branches. Susannah lacked the roots, but she could be accommodating for a good cause.
Though the notion angered her in a way it hadn’t seven years ago.
Will settled Susannah’s hat upon her head—she would have marched off without it—and was tying the ribbons into a modest bow when Georgette growled. Samson rose from his haunches and aimed a glare at the undergrowth where Susannah had kissed Will only days ago.
“Willow, why are they upset?” Was everybody’s mood unhappy today?
“I don’t know.”
The answer presented itself a moment later, as an enormous mastiff emerged from the bushes, head down, hackles up, a healing gash over its left eye.
“That is Sycamore’s stray,” Will said. “Cam borrows my clothing indiscriminately, and my scent must have attracted the dog from whatever hiding place it bides by day. Stay behind me, Susannah. Georgette, Samson, sit.”
Both dogs sat, slowly, as if coiling for a launch at the intruder.
Susannah understood the male gender as well as any woman with five brothers could. “The poor thing is starving,” she said, picking up Will’s bag of cheese.
“Susannah.” Will’s pleasant tone sounded as if he’d forced her name through gritted teeth. “Please put the cheese down right now. If the dog wants the cheese, he’ll hurt you to get it.”
The mastiff hung back, uncertain and woebegone at the edge of the foliage. “No, he won’t. He’s a good dog, Will. Somebody’s pet fallen on hard times.”
Will slipped leashes on Georgette and Samson, though if both dogs charged at once, even he might not be able to control them.
“Stay,” Susannah said, making the hand sign where both Georgette and Samson could see her. “We’ll share with the less fortunate.”
“Susannah, don’t you dare go near that animal.” Again, Will’s tone was pleasant, while Georgette’s sentiments were more honestly expressed in a low, rumbling growl.
“Maybe you’d like a snack,” Susannah said to the stray, tossing a bite of cheese in the dog’s direction. “I’m easily vexed when I’m peckish. We all are. Willow, mightn’t you lead Georgette and Samson down the path? I’ll follow when I’ve shared our cheese with the hungry fellow.”
The cheese disappeared and the dog looked up, his gaze hopeful. Susannah hated to see a noble creature brought low, and yet the beast was not begging and wasn’t threatening, either.
“Feed him one piece at a time,” Will said, “and make him wait between nibbles. Toss them a few feet from where he’s sitting, so he has to look for each one. When I’ve got Georgette and Samson out of here, toss several bites at once, and leave a few more where he can find them while you follow me to safety.”