George offered her his arm, which she accepted, and they strolled down the length of the walk in the dappled shade of the lime trees. It was deemed acceptable so long as they stayed within sight of Mrs Armitage who taking tea, and dozing they were well aware, in the rose garden. Privacy was hard to come by, and though observed, they could at least converse unheard. Estelle hardly dared to hope that what she had discerned of his intentions was about to be confirmed. The polite exchanges petered out by the time they emerged by the lake and he turned to her. She raised her eyes to meet his. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut short as a little terrier came charging down towards them, barking wildly and closely followed by Estelle's younger brother. The dog bowled past them and then they saw Agnes, the nanny, waddling down the path and shrieking at Bertie to stay away from the water. George smiled ruefully at her and they walked back towards the house.
(Word for my flash fiction A to Z today searched out by me because Xylophone was just not inspiring. Scene inspired by a conversation about Jane Austen during the read-a-thon.)