Proposals And Disposals

16

Proposals And Disposals

    The big excitement in Lower Nettlefold at the end of June was the wedding of Polly Burden and Arthur Golightly: outweighing, at least momentarily, the prospect of the Prince’s ball, which was not to be until late July. The bride looked glowingly lovely; the bridesmaids glowed as lesser stars in the firmament; the groom looked both manly and happy; his brother, as his best man, comported himself with dignity and looked sufficiently handsome to cause Mrs Waldgrave, dabbing her eyes in the vicarage pew, to wonder if perhaps Amanda needed a tonic; and the Dean, to the great disappointment of some of those present, did not assist, but merely sat at the groom’s mother’s side. The groom’s mother was not observed to weep, and opinion was divided as to whether it showed that she truly had accepted the fact of Polly as her daughter-in-law or that she was as stony-hearted as all the Wyntons. The bride’s mother wept copiously but even the most uncharitably disposed heart present—of which there were few, for Polly was loved by all who knew her—could not interpret this with much conviction as sorrow that she was losing her little daughter to a dark-visaged clergyman twice her age.

    Polly had, of course, wished to invite everyone she knew to her wedding breakfast, and as she was Mrs Langford’s only daughter this had seemed an entirely reasonable wish. The reception was held in the ballroom of Kendlewood Place; it was a glorious day, and the long windows stood open, letting in the scent of roses. Polly had decided she did not want anything very formal, so the food was set out on several long tables and the guests, provided with an assortment of smaller tables at which to sit, were free to wander about and help themselves, or ask to be helped by the Kendlewood Place servants, augmented for the occasion by Hawkins, in a new broderie Anglaise cap and apron (threaded with black ribbons by the sympathetic Janey), by Mrs McVeigh, also in new broderie Anglaise (the which Mrs Langford had privily assured her might well be made over into collars and cuffs if she so wished), by four of the Maunsleigh footmen and, no-one was enquiring exactly how or why, by a beaming Mr Hutton. In one corner a string quartet that the Colonel had hired from Nettleford as a surprise for his stepdaughter did its best to fill the room with pleasant airs, above the din of polite persons making polite conversation.

    “I did not realise that the neighbourhood held so many persons,” said the Earl to Miss Burden, as Mrs McVeigh helped her to a steaming dish of savoury chicken.

    “Did you not? Well, they are very largely within your fief, so in your place I should make a push to get to know them,” replied Miss Burden coldly. “Thank you, Harbottle—I’m sorry: Mrs McVeigh!” she amended with a smile. “What is this?”

    “I don’t roightly know, Miss Burden. I don’t think it’s one of Mrs Jackley’s receets.”

    “Poulet Marengo. It’s one of Fermour’s, I’d know it anywhere,” said the Earl heavily. “I sent him and a selection of chafing dishes over to help Mrs Langford’s cook.”

    “That’s roight, Miss Burden,” said Mrs McVeigh brightly.

     “Oh,” said Midge limply, staring at her plate. “Marengo?”

    “Napoleonic, quite.” Jarvis took her firmly by the elbow before she could recover from this. “Come and sit down, Miss Burden, you should not be wandering around helping yourself.”

    “That is what we are supposed to do. And I was not helping myself: Harb—Mrs McVeigh was helping me.”

    “Yes,” he agreed calmly, steering her back towards his table. “If you resist, it will cause the entire room to gape at you,” he added.

    “I suppose this is what in Napoleonic parlance would be known as force majeure!” said Midge crossly.

    His shoulders shook. “Exactly!”

    “I don’t even know those people you are with, and I do think at my niece’s wedding I might sit where I like!” she hissed, as he propelled her onwards through the throng.

    “Of course you know them: it is Churton from Charles’s regiment, and the Bishop of Winnsby and Nettle and his wife.”

    “What?” gasped Miss Burden in horror. “Why are they here?”

    “I would say, because the groom’s family felt it would have been improper not to have invited them. Oh, and the handsome younger couple are Lady Paula and Mr Cunningham. He is a clergyman, and the younger clergyman is his brother, Aloysius Cunningham, the Bishop’s chaplain. –Do you really not know any of them?” he murmured.

    “No.”

    “Then it is time you did.” He led her firmly up to the table and effected introductions.

    “Good,” noted Lady Judith in her husband’s ear.

    The Dean looked at Miss Burden smiling palely as the Bishop’s wife broke into what was, even from a considerable distance, clearly a harangue. “She does not look as if she is enjoying the experience.”

    … “Did you enjoy yourself, Midge?” asked Mrs Langford, as the last of the guests departed in the wake of the bride and groom. The honeymoon would be in Kent—the Earl was lending Cresswell House again: Polly had never seen the sea, either.

    “No. I was perfectly happy sitting with Janey and Miss Humphreys, but Lord Sleyven made me go and join his table and make forced conversation with the Bishop and his wife. And a very grand young couple in wonderful clothes who looked bored stiff to be there: I cannot imagine why they came!” she said crossly.

    “Er—I think that was Lady Paula Cunningham and her husband: he is an old friend of Dr Golightly’s,” said Lettice feebly.

    “Then it is a great pity he could not have looked as if he were enjoying his wedding!” retorted Midge. “Though at that table, with the frightful pair from the Palace, who seem not to realise that it might be their Christian duty not to refer slightingly to dear, kind Mrs Newbiggin as ‘that encroaching tradesman’s wife—’” She broke off with a gasp as the Earl reappeared.

    “It might, indeed,” he said courteously.

    “I thought you had gone,” replied Midge, very red.

    “No. I was waiting in case you and Miss Janey might require a ride home.”

    “Janey has gone with the Somertons,” returned Miss Burden ungraciously.

    “Good, in that case we shall be less of a squeeze in the curricle,” he replied calmly.

    “Thank you, but I think Letty might need my services,” said Midge grimly.

    “No, no, Midgey, dear: you go along: I, frankly, am going to lie down for the rest of the afternoon,” said Mrs Langford, leaning heavily on the Colonel’s arm, “and the servants will tidy everything up, you need not worry.”

    Miss Burden found she had no recourse but to yield to force majeure again. She allowed the Earl to assist her into the curricle. They trotted gently down to the gate and turned for Lower Nettlefold in silence.

    “Shall we go through Turpen’s Way?” he suggested.

    “I was under the impression that your friend General Sir Michael Garrity had enclosed it,” replied Miss Burden grimly.

    “He is not my friend, and I ordered him to un-enclose it quite some months back, as I think you must be aware. Shall we? It is prettier, that way.”

    A certain section of this meandering road was known locally as “Lovers’ Lane”. Miss Burden was not sure whether the Earl knew of this. And on reflection, did not dare to ask. “Very well,” she agreed grimly.

    “It went off well, I thought,” he said placidly as they jogged on into the shade of the trees.

    “Yes.”

    “Polly looked delightful.”

    “Yes. Thank you.”

    “It was most thoughtful of her to invite Mrs Fendlesham,” he murmured.

    “Polly has known her all her life, Lord Sleyven. And she, I am glad to say, is not a snob,” ended Midge through her teeth.

    “No. –Forgive my saying so, but it would not have looked well, I thought, for the bride’s side to pay no attention at all to the Bishop and his lady,” he murmured.

    “So you voted unanimously to sacrifice me? Thank you very much!”

    “There was no-one else,” he murmured.

    “No, well, I am sure the Bishop and his lady were highly gratified to be given the opportunity to tell me that my friends Mrs Newbiggin and Mr Bottomley-Pugh are respectively encroaching and an impossible cit!”

    “Largely, Mrs Bishop, I think,” he murmured. “She is a nasty woman.”

    “Uh—yes.”

    There was a short silence.

    “What a—a nullity he is, isn’t he?” said Midge in a stunned voice.

    “Mm. I apologize for both of them, and in particular for her slighting of your friends and for his harping on pike. And for inflicting them on you. But—er—had I not done so, I think unkind remarks might have been circulated about Polly’s family, in the town.”

    “Yes, but Letty and the Colonel do not care what the Bishop’s wife’s circle may say of them, sir!” she cried.

    “No. But I think Polly and Arthur Golightly have to live in ecclesiastical circles, do they not?” he murmured.

    “Oh,” said Miss Burden, going very red.

    There was another short silence.

    “Thank you,” she said, swallowing hard. “I hadn’t thought.”

    “No, well, I own it did not occur to me until I saw the disposition of the tables.”

    Jarvis drove on in silence for a while. Then he said levelly: “Miss Burden, my sentiments have not undergone a change since I spoke to you at the strawberry picknick at Verne Lea. –No, please hear me out.” he said as she opened her mouth.

    Unaccountably Miss Burden’s heart beat very rapidly. She said nothing.

    “I think it is generally considered any man’s right, to be allowed to get through his piece, at such a moment, is it not?” he murmured.

    Miss Burden swallowed hard and did not speak.

    “I will not disguise from you that when you turned me down, I was at first very angry and then somewhat relieved,” he said steadily. “We hardly knew each other, of course, and I was too precipitate.”

    Miss Burden said nothing, but her cheeks had flamed. The Earl glanced sideways at her: he could not see all of her face because of the new black bonnet, but he could see the blush, and was not wholly discouraged. “I do not feel exactly tepid about you, as I think you must be aware,” he said steadily.

    Miss Burden licked her lips uneasily.

    “But we are not children, and I do not wish you to think that I am proposing in the heat of passion, without having thought the thing through and considered what would be best for both of us.”

    Miss Burden’s blush had faded: she gave him an amazed look, but he was staring at the road ahead, and did not notice.

    “If I was plain Colonel Wynton still, I should not hesitate,” he said. “Although, to be sure, there are certain duties that are expected of a colonel’s wife; but I am sure you would have no difficulty in carrying them out. But we are not speaking of such a situation,” he said, frowning suddenly.

    “No,” replied Miss Burden in a strange voice.

    “If you were to agree to become my wife—as I very much hope you will, when you have had time to consider the proposition,” he said levelly, “there are several important points to be considered.”

    “I am sure there are,” said Miss Burden, still in the strange voice.

    “Good; I am glad you can see it,” he said with a sigh. “After all, you are a sensible woman, and not a giddy young girl.”

    The words “harum-scarum” and “sadly wanting in conduct”—not to mention “no notion whatsoever of the conduct befitting a woman of gentle birth”—that he had used of her at the ball at Verne Lea seemed to ring in Miss Burden’s ears. She had much ado not to push the insufferable man bodily from his own curricle. But she sat very still, gripping her reticule tightly in her lap, and managed to say: “No, I am certainly not that.”

    “Mm. Well, in the first place there is the point that I am not sure that you could be happy in the sort of life you would have to lead as Lady Sleyven. Life at Maunsleigh is somewhat formal, and—er—well, the household has a certain routine, I suppose. And then, I shall have to take my seat in the House. I am afraid the town house is nigh as large and uncomfortable as Maunsleigh.”

    “Really? Where is it?” asked Miss Burden in a strangled tone.

    “Er—the address? It is in Blefford Square.”

    “Indeed? That is a very good address, I think?” said Miss Burden in a strangled tone. “Janey’s papa owns a house in Green Street: I think that is nearby?”

    “Er—yes, not far,” he said, glancing at her uncertainly. Miss Burden had not hitherto struck him as the type of female who concerned herself over such matters as good, bad or indifferent addresses in town.

    “It might be possible to make it reasonably homelike. Whilst still preserving a certain necessary formality,” said Miss Burden, still in a strangled tone.

    “Indeed; I am glad you think so,” he agreed in some relief.

    Miss Burden’s bosom swelled. She glared at the road. The Earl did not notice: he was frowning at his horses’ heads.

    There was a little silence. The horses trotted on steadily in the dappled shade of Turpen’s Way.

    “Obviously I should have to learn to adapt myself to your sort of life, sir,” said Miss Burden dulcetly.

    “Yes, but supposing you had done so, could you be happy in it?”

    She suppressed a desire to give an airy titter: that might render the insupportable man suspicious. “Why, I think so. After all, as you say, we are not children,” she said mildly.

    “No,” he agreed in a flattened tone.

    Miss Burden waited, but as he did not speak, she said affably: “I think you mentioned there were other points, Lord Sleyven?”

    “What? Oh—yes. Being the mistress of Maunsleigh,” he said, taking a deep breath, “will entail not only adapting yourself to a more formal life, Miss Burden, but also understanding and undertaking the duties pertaining to the position.”

    “Oh, yes, of course, sir: I quite see that. And being your hostess in town, too. Actually, I have never been a hostess at more than a tea-party for my friends from the neighbourhood,” said Miss Burden artlessly.

    “No. of course you have not. And—well, we can be frank with each other, I think,” he said, essaying a smile.

    Miss Burden allowed her lashes to flutter down, and said into her lap: “Of course, Lord Sleyven.”

    “Er—yes,” he said. giving her a dubious look. “Well, then, let us admit that you were not born to the life of—of a great lady,” he said, clearing his throat and wishing to God he could have thought of some more felicitous phrase.

    “No, very true. Maunsleigh,” said Miss Burden dulcetly, “is the biggest house I have ever seen, let alone set foot in; and of course, as you so rightly pointed out. I should not have set foot in it when I did. It was most improper.” –This last sentence came out a trifle grim, but there was always the hope that he was so insufferably obsessed with his poisonous family name that he would not notice.

    And, indeed, he appeared not to: for he replied politely: “It was improper, but also most courageous, Miss Burden.”

    Miss Burden was rendered almost incapable of speech by this piece of outrageous impertinence. However, she did not shout that she had been under the impression that for him the impropriety outweighed the courage; but merely croaked: “Thank you.”

    “Um—well, as I was saying, there are certain duties that you would have to learn. I know that my cousin, Lady Judith, will be very glad to take you under her wing, and assist you in any way she can.”

    Midge’s ears rang disbelievingly. After an appreciable pause she managed to say: “Have you discussed this with Lady Judith?”

    “Yes. She came to see me, but I—I think I might have asked her advice, in any event. One of our concerns,” he said, gnawing on his lip, “—and I hope this will not put you to the blush, but I think we are both old enough to face facts—er, one of our concerns is that the title should not pass to my late cousin Josiah Wynton’s eldest son. As it must do, if I do not marry.”

    All was now sufficiently clear to Miss Burden: his insufferable Lordship’s lordly fancy having fixed upon her insignificant and highly unsuitable self, he had decided to gratify his whim at the same time as he ensured the succession, by getting his horrible relatives to train her up into the semblance of a grand lady! Whether it was killing two birds with one stone, or having his cake and eating it, Miss Burden was by now too angry to have said: but certainly both phrases whirled in her brain at this moment.

    “Miss Burden,” said the Earl hoarsely as she still did not speak: “please believe me when I say I have thought very deeply upon this, and it is not my intention to hurt your feelings in any way. But a competence in—in dealing with pigs who break out of their sties and scrawny chickens due to be made into soup and—and all the other many duties which have been yours in the life you have known so far, will not fit you to occupy a great position. And if you had not been taught the duties pertaining to the position, I think you would find yourself at a loss on taking it up, and—and very unhappy,” he said in a low voice. “In short, my proposition is, should you consent to become my wife, that you should allow Lady Judith to take you up to town, perhaps for the Little Season in the autumn, as the House will be sitting then—if your period of mourning for your friend and benefactress might appropriately come to an end by that time; and then at Christmas to bring you to Maunsleigh, where my cousin’s aunt, Lady Caroline Grey, will be playing hostess for me; and thus teach you what would be expected of you.”

    The curricle jogged on for an appreciable distance before Miss Burden, having taken several deep breaths and changed her grip several times on her reticule, managed to say: “Lord Sleyven, I am fully sensible of the honour you have done me.”

    “I realize it is not the most romantic of proposals.” he said uncomfortably. “But then, as I said, we are not a pair of children, and there is more to be considered than that, is there not? But you know my own feelings; and it has seemed to me in the past that you are not wholly indifferent to me; and in short I—I hope that you will be able to reciprocate.”

    “I shall have to—to think it over.”

    “Please do. Perhaps I might call tomorrow to hear your answer, if that would not be too soon?”

    “Oh, no, my Lord,” said Miss Burden dulcetly, her eyes in her lap: “that would not be too soon.”

    “Thank you.”

    They drove on in silence.

    Eventually the Earl made some light remark about the perfection of the day, but Miss Burden replied on a desperate note: “If you would not object, sir, I would prefer not to indulge in conversation just at present. I—I need to think.”

    “Of course,” he said courteously.

    Neither of them spoke the rest of the way to Bluebell Dell.

    “I shall call tomorrow afternoon,” he said, drawing up by the gate. “Can you get down?”

    “Yes, of course.” She dismounted nimbly.

    “Please believe me,” he said hoarsely, bending down to her, “when l say that it is not my wish for an heir that has prompted me to speak. As I said, my sentiments have not undergone a change; indeed, they have not done so, from the very first moment of setting eyes on you.”

    “I think I understand,” said Miss Burden faintly, not meeting his eye. “Indeed, I—I think I feel the same.”

    “Really?” he said as his heart gave a great leap.

    “Yes, but that,” she added, licking her lips nervously, “is not, as you so rightly pointed out, the essential consideration in persons of our age.”

    “Er—no, of course,” he agreed stiffly. “I shall see you tomorrow, then.”

    “Yes. Goodbye. And thank you for the ride,” said Midge quickly, hurrying indoors.

    The Earl, sad to say, sawed horridly at his horses’ mouths in an effort to turn them in the narrow lane: Tonkins would most certainly not have approved. He thought there was reason to hope, but... Well, she had not received his declaration with cries of joy, precisely, had she? Or—or any intimation that it was truly welcome, really.

    He was unable to eat his dinner that night, but M. Fermour put it down to the amount he had consumed at the wedding breakfast and genially promised the kitchen another Poulet Marengo very soon.

    Miss Burden had managed not to slam the front door. And managed not to shout or scream until the curricle had disappeared, but only by dint of some very deep breathing.

    Then she shouted at the top of her lungs: “OH! How DARE he! Monstrous! I shall teach him a lesson, or die in the attempt!”

    It was fortunate that Janey had elected to spend the rest of the day and sleep over for that night at Plumbways, for Miss Burden would have been quite incapable of making polite conversation. As it was, Hawkins charitably put her inability to face her dinner down to the amount of wedding breakfast she had consumed, and kindly prepared a draught for her, which Mrs Cartwright had always declared infallible. Midge did not need it but she drank it anyway: possibly it would calm the nerves as well as the stomach. The evening and most of the night that followed were spent in scheming out exactly how best to pay his Lordship back for his monstrous impertinence and conceit.

    Miss Burden’s resolution was very nearly overset the following afternoon by the sight of the Earl leaping down from his curricle with a great bunch of pink and palest yellow roses in his hand and an excited look on his face. But she repeated to herself various phrases such as: “harum-scarum”, and: “duties pertaining to the position” and: “sadly wanting in conduct” and was able to face him with her decision unaltered.

    Hawkins showed him in with the appropriate polite bob but a beaming smile that was perhaps not so appropriate in a proper parlourmaid.

    “Good afternoon, Miss Burden,” he said politely.

    “Good afternoon, Lord Sleyven,” returned Midge. “Please sit down.”

    His Lordship would have preferred to stand to hear his fate. One usually did so, in a court martial. “Thank you. May I offer you these? They are not,” he said, with an attempt at an easy smile, “the ones that Potts is preparing for the Horticultural Fair.”

    “No. Thank you. They’re lovely,” she said, a trifle lamely.

    “I like them when they are in that full-blown state, but Potts tells me they will not last so long. –May I sit here?”

    “Yes, please do,” said Midge feebly as he sank onto the wooden settle—the most uncomfortable seat in the room. “I like them, too.”

    “Mm. The tight buds are delightful, but rather like little untried bits of girls—like your little Miss Janey, in fact: there is the promise of sweetness there, but not that beckoning glow of the rose in full bloom.” He looked at her, and smiled.

    Miss Burden went as pink as the roses and did not quite dare to say, was his Lordship sure that he was talking about the flowers?

    “May I say, that although I quite understand that you possess only a few summer gowns, I am very glad that you have worn that one for me, instead of one of the brown and yellow print ones?”

    Miss Burden was wearing the gown with malice aforethought. Nobody could have taken exception to it, precisely, or said it was not the sort of thing that a gently-born woman who aspired to be the mistress of a great house should wear in the afternoon. It was the dark green silk that Mrs Cartwright had given her, and despite Miss Humphreys’s almost tearful pleadings, she had had it made up in a very severe style, with long sleeves and a high neck. As Miss Burden did not possess any lace, the neck was not adorned with a lace trim, which in Miss Humphreys’s expressed opinion would much have improved it, but only with a tiny pleated edging of the stuff. Even Lettice, though agreeing that Midge needed a good afternoon dress, had said the style was far too severe for her.

    Miss Burden, therefore, frankly goggled at his Lordship.

    “That dark green shade makes your skin glow,” he murmured. “And if you would care to pin some of the roses to your shoulder, the effect would be even more delightful.”

    “I do not have a brooch,” she replied flatly.

    “Not at all?” he said in a shaken voice.

    “No.”

    He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. Er—will you not sit down, Miss Burden?”

    Miss Burden sank down onto a chair opposite the settle, gazing at him unwinkingly.

    “Have you considered my proposal?” he asked hoarsely, going very red.

    “Yes. I think we need to discuss several points before I give you an answer.”

    “Er—yes, if you wish,” he agreed numbly.

    “My lack of a brooch, not to say of summer gowns, may as well introduce the first point. It was most generous of Lady Judith to offer to sponsor me into Society, but I think you do not realize, Lord Sleyven, that I have no clothes and no money with which to purchase them.”

    “I will take care of that. Surely that is not a consideration which would weigh with you?” he said, staring.

    “Most certainly. A lady cannot ask her affianced to buy clothes for her. And I could not possibly shame you by appearing in London in my old rags. Or at Maunsleigh,” said Midge primly.

    “No—uh—for God’s sake!” Jarvis passed his hand over his forehead.

    “There is also the not inconsiderable matter of a trousseau befitting an earl’s bride. Lettice and the Colonel have just spent an incredible sum on things for Polly, even although there was a deal of linen put away for her.”

    “Miss Burden, you will not need to bring household linens to Maunsleigh!”

    “No. But I am sure your servants will expect me to have silk stockings and petticoats and such stuff. But I,” said Miss Burden, suddenly recalling a vow to flutter her lashes a great deal and doing so, the meantime lowering her eyes modestly, “have scarce a rag to my back.”

    “I will buy you bride-clothes,” he said through his teeth. “May we discuss something more sensible and germane, please?”

    “But this is both sensible and germane, for it relates to your consequence,” said Midge briskly, giving up on the eyelashes for the nonce. “It is most generous of you to offer to supply my bride-clothes. But I fear you may have to persuade Lettice and Colonel Langford of it as well as myself. I fear they may insist on providing them. The which they of course have no obligation to do, for I am not a relative.”

    “If necessary, I shall speak to Charles. Miss Burden, may we—”

    “Thank you so much. I have been awake half the night worrying over the point,” she said earnestly.

    “Oh,” he said lamely.

    “Then there is the matter of carriages. The Maunsleigh barouche is horridly old-fashioned: both Mrs Somerton and the Bishop’s wife told me so yesterday—”

    “Miss Burden, I will buy you CARRIAGES!” he shouted. “Can we please not talk of worldly possessions?”

    Miss Burden had been prepared for either of two responses to this point. She cried in an agitated manner: “No, no: you are missing the point! I wish you to promise me that whatever such cats may say, you will not give in and throw your money away on frivolous inessentials, merely to afford your wife the pleasurable sensation of being in the forefront of the fashion!”

    “The forefront of the— We may discuss all this at a later date,” he said grimly. “And I apologize for shouting.”

    “Oh, no,” said Miss Burden, looking soulful. “It was entirely understandable, my Lord. Oh, and that brings me to another point, though I fear you will say it is a trifling one: would you wish your wife to call you Sleyven?”

    “No,” he said, flushing darkly. “Call me Jarvis.”

    “But will not persons such as Lady Caroline Grey and—um—well, I am not sure, but Mrs Patterson, I think she is well-connected, and—um—oh, yes: Mrs Somerton: she always calls him Mr Somerton—will not they think it unsuited to persons of great position?”

    “No. Miss Burden, these are scarcely points which—”

    “I think I ought not to mention settlements,” said Miss Burden, fluttering the lashes again, “but there is no-one to do it for me. But perhaps you could speak to Colonel Langford about that.”

    “Yes,” he said flatly.

    “But actually,” she added, fluttering the lashes yet again and giving him a look from under them which two days since she would not have considered using in her wildest dreams: “please could you explain precisely what they are? For I know persons of—of a certain standing in Society talk of them, but—but no-one has ever explained them to me. And I do not think Letty ever had one. Or are they always plural?”

    “Y— N—” He passed his hand over his forehead again.

    “Would it be more appropriate for me to ask Lady Judith?” asked Midge innocently.

    “No,” he said with a wince. No doubt Lady Judith could explain most competently—but that Miss Burden could think of asking her—! “Very well, I shall explain.”

    He went into considerable detail. Miss Burden was rather horrified to learn that his widow would be a very wealthy woman, but comforted herself with the thought that it would not be she. “Thank you,” she said when he had run down.

    “Not at all. Now will you give me an answer?”

    “Well, not as such. I think you said,” said Miss Burden, blushing in spite of herself and not looking at him, “that your sentiments have—have not changed.”

    “No, indeed!” he said eagerly, leaning forward.

    “Yes. Um—as I said yesterday, it is not the essential consideration in persons of our age.”

    “I assure you I do not wish for a marriage of convenience,”

    “Well, no, I think I did understand that, but you did not give the impression,” said Miss Burden, managing a soulful look, “of a man carried away by passion, yesterday.”

    His jaw hardened. “I thought that I had done enough of that, earlier. To little effect.”

    Miss Burden placed a hand to the tight bosom of the dark green silk gown and allowed herself to speak in a fading voice. “That is not quite true. I—I was very... taken aback.”

    “Shocked and horrified?” he suggested grimly.

    “Well, yes. But—er...”

    “Yes?” he said, the nostrils flaring.

    At this juncture Miss Burden’s stout heart very nearly failed her. She shot him a quick glance and murmured: “I have thought about it... since.”

    “So you— Do you think you could bear to marry me, or not?” he said huskily.

    Possibly if, at this point, he had fallen to his knees and confessed he loved her—as, it might be remembered, Lady Judith had advised—Miss Burden’s aplomb would have deserted her.

    “I am not absolutely sure,” she said, using her lashes again but gazing fixedly into her lap.

    “Oh.”

    “It was not merely that I was shocked... I was a little frightened.”

    “I see that, now. I—I did let my feelings run away with me, and I apologize for it. It was ungentlemanly.”

    Midge scarcely heard this, and certainly did not remark the tremor in his voice: for she was now carried away with the brilliance of her own plot. “Ye-es... I was thinking, would it be acceptable if we did not have an actual engagement, until I had learned some of those things from Lady Judith and—and until we had determined if I should truly suit?”

    The Earl’s jaw sagged.

    “Really, I do not know you,” she said, fluttering the lashes wildly.

    “Could we not get to know each other better while we are engaged?”

    “No, um— The thing is, you would then be unable to withdraw with honour!” she burst out artlessly. Managing to open her eyes very wide and look very innocent as she did so.

    “Oh.” He was silent for a moment. “Believe me, Miss Burden, I will not wish to withdraw.”

    “That is very flattering. But I know I am very unsuitable, and if I cannot learn all those things, then I think I should allow you a way out, sir,” said Miss Burden in a small, childish voice. She could not manage a tear, but she blinked artistically, and sniffed.

    “I see!” he said with a smile in his voice. He rose, and before the startled Midge could move, knelt by her chair and took her hand gently in his. “That is entirely honourable of you,” he said in a low voice, kissing the hand.

    Midge trembled very much, and almost wished it all unsaid, and very nearly admitted she was meanly leading him on—but did not.

    “Chota memsahib, you are irresistible,” he said in a very low voice, mumbling kisses into her hand. “We may have an understanding, if that is what you wish for. And I shall ask Cousin Judith to call very soon.”

    This last was an unfortunate note, in that it recalled to his beloved’s mind the fact that he had discussed her with his cousin. Nevertheless, all she managed in reply was: “Mm.”

    “So how long might it be?” he said, looking up with a smile.

    “What?” said Midge dazedly.

    “Darling, before you decide you can stand the thought of marrying me, and agree to become engaged!” he said with a laugh. The slanted eyes that were that odd pale sherry colour looked right into hers. His colour rose: he drew her forward very gently and just touched his lips softly to hers. “Dear heart,” he said on a breath.

    Miss Burden might have given in wholly, then, and cast herself on his shoulder and sobbed out the whole, but suddenly she seemed to hear Kitty Marsh’s voice saying: “In private Jarvis can be so terribly charming and... persuasive.”

    She went very red and sat up very straight, saying confusedly: “Yes— No— What?”

     He laughed and pulled her towards him. “Yes, we shall be engaged very soon; No, I don’t want a marriage of convenience; and ‘What’ is this!” With that he kissed her.

    Midge’s heart thudded wildly and she was incapable of resisting the embrace, but when he looked at her with a triumphant light in his eyes and said gaily: “So! I was right, was I not? You are not indifferent to me?” she replied disingenuously, fluttering the lashes terrifically: “Oh, no, Lord Sleyven. But you are so right: in persons of our station it must not be the deciding factor, of course.”

    “Of course,” said Jarvis, biting his lip. He kissed her hand formally, and rose to his feet. “So—an understanding, then?”

    “Yes. And you must absolutely promise me,” said Miss Burden, looking soulful and not quite achieving a pout, “that if I do not perform creditably under Lady Judith’s tuition, you will agree that we will not go on with it.’

    “I absolutely promise!” he said with a little laugh. “But there will be no question of that!” He looked at her slyly. “Indeed, this very proper and extremely charming gown is indicative, I think, of your determination to adapt yourself to new ways very quickly.”

    It must have been: for she did not slap the smirk off his face for him but instead simpered, fluttering the lashes yet again, and breathed: “Oh...”

    He gave a satisfied laugh, bowed formally, said: “I shall see you very soon, then!” And left.

    “You presumptuous, self-satisfied, arrogant pig,” said Miss Burden very slowly and clearly to the small front parlour of Bluebell Dell. “If ever a man deserved his come-uppance, it is you. And it shall not be my fault if you do not receive it!”

    Towards dinnertime that evening she was extremely taken aback to receive a small package from Maunsleigh, which when opened—the interested Janey, who had returned from Plumbways in time for dinner, breathing heavily at her elbow meanwhile—proved to be a small ring brooch.

    “Diamonds and emeralds?” gasped Janey.

    “They cannot be,” said Midge limply.

    Unceremoniously Janey grabbed the brooch and ran over to the window to examine it in the light. “They are,” she said definitely, handing it back.

    “How on earth can you tell?”

    “Uncle Umberto taught me. If only I were a boy I might have persuaded Papa to let me go into the family business,” she said on a regretful note. “—Ah! Look, there is a card!” Before Midge could stop her she had read out: “‘Pin the roses on with this, my pink rose. Jarvis.’ Well!” she gasped, her eyes starting from her head. “You will be a countess! Will not that that cat Mrs Patterson look sick!” she cried, dancing in triumph.

    “Janey, it is not what you think!” cried Midge desperately.

     Janey laughed and shook her head at her and continued to dance.

    “Janey, it’s all a trick! I am not going to marry him!”

    Janey stopped dancing. “A trick?”

    Midge was very red. “He has insulted me beyond bearing. He is insufferable, and I am going to teach him a lesson!”

    “Tell me!” she gasped, pulling her down onto the sofa.

    Still very flushed, Miss Burden somewhat disjointedly revealed the whole.

    Janey Lattersby, sad to relate, was not shocked. “I am wholly on your side!” she cried fiercely. “That will serve him out!”

    “Yes, it will,” said Miss Burden sourly.

    “Indeed! Poor Miss Burden! What an insult! Why, you cannot help it, if you are in a position where there is no-one to mend the pigsty!” she cried sympathetically.

    Miss Burden reddened: she had not meant that detail to creep into the story. “No,” she replied sheepishly.

    “I think it will dispose of his pretensions utterly!”

    “Yes. He will find that under his relatives’ tuition,” she said grimly. “I develop into something entirely ladylike and quite unbearable.”

    “Yes!” shrieked Janey, going off into a gale of laughter. “Dearest Miss Burden, I adore you!” She kissed Midge’s cheek with great enthusiasm.

    “I—I suppose it’s setting you the most frightful example.”

    “No!” she scoffed. “For I was pretty frightful to start with, you know! And if you suppose I need a stern parent, Papa will soon be home, in any case. Besides, my French grammar is improving greatly under your tuition. Added to which, you are the bestest, nicest chaperone in all the world, and any horrid old earl who does not think so deserves to be made to look a ninny. And I shall do everything in my power to aid you!”

    “Thank you. But I think you had best not be involved,” said Midge, swallowing.

    “Nonsense! –May I tell Katerina?” she asked eagerly.

    Midge was aware that Katerina and Janey had become fast friends. She did not think there was any risk of Miss Bottomley-Pugh’s betraying her; nevertheless she bit her lip a little and said: “Well, I had rather thought that the fewer people to know the truth, the better.”

    “Oh, but please! For I shall burst if I cannot talk it over with someone.”

    Midge thought that she would not burst, but she might let it out to Lacey, and that would never do: if Lacey’s mother got it out of her— “Very well, then: Katerina, but no-one else.”

    “I promise!” she said ecstatically. “Oh, is it not the most famous joke ever? –And diamonds and emeralds!”

    Midge came to herself with a start. “Oh, my goodness, yes. I shall have to send it back.”

    “On the contrary: I order you to wear it and to blush like a peony when he sees you doing so! –You know,” she said thoughtfully: “it must be a part of the Wynton family jewels, there is no other way he would have something like this about him.”

    Midge gulped.

    Janey held it up and looked at it carefully. “Not very old. English work: I would say, dating from the middle of the last century.” She pinned it on Midge’s shoulder, smiling. “There!”

    Limply she admitted: “I suppose you are right: I must accept it with a good grace. But of course I shall return it when I reveal the truth to him.”

    “For myself, I would not: the spoils of war,” said Janey very drily indeed. “But it is as I say: you are much too good for him! –Is it nearly dinnertime? I own, I am starving.”

    That, concluded Miss Burden limply, disposed of the brooch, then.

    “I see,” said Katerina slowly.

    Janey looked at her, very bright-eyed. “What do you think?”

    “What do you?”

    “No, I asked first!”

    “Well,” said Katerina very slowly. “although dear Miss Burden doubtless believes herself to be interested only in—in depressing utterly the Earl’s pretensions—”

    “And in punishing him for his unbearable condescension and conceit!” she cried.

    “Yes. I think that although she believes that to be the cause of her decision to enter into the understanding, she is more affected by him than she has as yet admitted to herself.”

    Janey clapped her hands. “Exact! You should have seen her blush at the card he sent with the brooch! And you remember the day of the charades? She was all of a tremble.”

    “Yes,” agreed Katerina, smiling at her.

    “I knew you would agree with me! –Katerina,” she said earnestly, “we must make a solemn pact that we will not let her break with him!”

    “Ye-es... If she turns herself into the sort of simpering, heartless fine lady that she evidently envisions, he—he may be really furious with her, Janey.”

    “But you are with me, are you not?” said Janey anxiously.

    “Yes,” she said, squeezing her hand. “Of course. He has been very silly, and gone about it all entirely the wrong way, but I think he truly loves her. And she him.”

    “Yes. We shall see her the Countess of Sleyven,” predicted Janey grimly, narrowing the hazel eyes, “before another year is out! –Do not worry: if she goes up to town, I shall go, too. I shall demand Papa open up the town house!”

    Katerina nodded, a trifle limply.

    “And listen: you must come with me! Do you think your father would agree?”

    Katerina thought that Pa very probably would agree to let her go to stay with a gentleman’s daughter in a house in one of the best parts of London: yes. She did not, however, phrase it in just those words, and Janey, very satisfied, clapped her hands and laughed.

    “And—and who else has she told the truth, Janey?”

    “Oh, no-one at all. Not even her sister-in law is to know!”

    Katerina nodded slowly. That was good: it would make it all the harder, once everyone who knew them had become aware of the understanding, and once Miss Burden had spent several months in the Earl’s relatives’ pockets, for the two of them to break it off.

    Midge was very nervous about having to deceive Letty and the Colonel. But, having nerved herself to break the news to them, she found she did not have to: the Earl had already done that. Somehow or another this strengthened her resolve to teach him a lesson and never to let on to Letty that she was doing so.

    “Midgey, we are so glad!” smiled Mrs Langford, holding both her hands tightly.

    Midge pulled away. “Do not rejoice too soon. I am not at all sure it will work out.”

    “Dearest, what can you mean?” she faltered.

    “It is an understanding only, not an engagement,” said Midge grimly. “We shall see if Lady Judith and her relatives can manage to ladify me. I personally am of the opinion that it will not work, but I let him talk me into it. I do not think I shall ever be the mistress of Maunsleigh. And to be frank, I do not think I want to be. But it seemed only fair to agree to give it a trial.”

    “But— Don’t you love him?” gasped Lettice, her cheeks aflame.

    “I would not call it that,” said Midge dispassionately. “I feel his attraction, as I am sure you have realized.”

    “Y— But Midgey—!”

    “However, I have to confess that I do not particularly like him as a person.”

    “Midge!” she gasped in horror.

    “Well, I did not say so to his face. But I intend to use this period of the understanding to find out whether I could truly support the idea of spending the rest of my life with him,” she said in a hard voice. “And at the moment I am inclined to say that the answer will be No, I could not. So I shall beg you not to spread the news all round the neighbourhood, Letty.”

    “Of course I shall not, if you do not wish me to,” said Mrs Langford, looking very distressed. “But Midge, my dear: this—this is not like you. To agree to—to this understanding, if—if you do not think you can truly love him—”

    “He talked me into it,” she said, going very red. “He is very persuasive when one is—is private with him. Perhaps you cannot see it, but I assure you that it is so.”

    Lettice looked at the red cheeks and drew precisely the conclusion that Midge had meant her to. Though the cheeks did not indicate maidenly modesty, but were, on the contrary, on account partly of the huge lie she was uttering and partly of her conscious reflection of Mrs Marsh’s words.

    “Charles, I cannot like it,” said Lettice later that day.

    “Oh, pooh. I dare say he did charm her into it—yes. It’s better than bullying her into it, ain’t it?”

    “Er—well, I suppose...”

    “Darling, does it truly matter how he talked her round? The point is, she has agreed, and during the period of this understanding. or whatever they like to call it, she will come to see what a truly good fellow he is! And if, as you claim,” he said with a little smile, “she is not completely in love with him now, then I guarantee that by the time they agree they’ve had enough of the understanding, she will be!”

    “Ye-es... Charles, it—it is just so unlike Midge! You did not see her: she was... odd.”

    “Maidenly confusion!” he said with a laugh.

    “No, it was not that. She seemed... hard.”

    “Well, my darling, I dare say she felt a trifle embarrassed. After all, she’s been giving him the cold shoulder for a year, now. It’s a bit of a turn-around, isn’t it?”

    “Ye-es... Well, perhaps you are right and she will come truly to love him when they get to know each other a little better.”

    “Of course!” he said, kissing her cheek.

    “And at least she has the option of not agreeing to be engaged if they do not suit,” said Lettice limply.

    The Colonel just laughed, and said that he was very sure they would suit. And to stop worrying, or Baby would be born with a wrinkle in the middle of his forehead!

    Mrs Langford laughed a little, and agreed to stop worrying. But she did not, entirely. Midgey had been so very odd. And, yes, hard: definitely hard.

    Mr Bottomley-Pugh had greeted Katerina’s news with stunned amaze. On thinking the thing over, however, he had come to very much the same conclusion as had his daughter: Miss Burden might not be admitting as much to herself, but she had fallen for the Earl with a thump. Now he said: “So, what happened at the Deanery: weaken, did she?”

    “No!” said Katerina with a naughty gurgle. “At first Janey was afraid she would, for she found her pinning the brooch on for the visit with tears in her eyes. But evidently when she arrived at the Deanery she found that Lady Judith has her formidable aunt, Lady Caroline Grey, come to stay, a-purpose to look Miss Burden over and lend her aid in the—the reformation process! At which of course she was instantly mad as fire, all her resolution coming back. For Lady Caroline is apparently the most dragonish of dowagers one could possibly imagine! And so horridly high in the instep that she has signalled her intention not of calling at the Palace, but of being ready to receive the Bishop’s wife, should she care to call!”

    Mr Bottomley-Pugh gave a delighted snigger.

    “But,” said Katerina, biting her lip, “Miss Burden spoke of the Earl with as much—as much obdurate hardness as ever, I fear, Pa.”

    “Well, it’s early days, yet.”

    “Yes. Um—there is more, unfortunately. Jenny Marsh is having her summer holidays now, but she is bored, I think, so she has volunteered to continue to come to Miss Burden three mornings a week. And—um...”

    “Well, don’t stop there, Kate, me dear!”

    Katerina swallowed. “She let it out to Miss Burden that the idea that she should give her her lessons was Lord Sleyven’s in the first instance. She—she was very much shocked. Janey said that after the little girl had gone home, she cried.”

    “Oh, Lard!” After a moment he said cautiously: “Not that that’s all bad. Well, shows she cares about the man, don’t you think?”

    “Well, yes. But Pa, from what Janey tells me, she has got it into her head that he must have spoken to Mrs Marsh himself!”

    “Eh?” he croaked.

    “Mm. It does not seem likely to me,” she said cautiously.

    Mr Bottomley-Pugh scratched his chins. “From what Jim Hutton says, it ain’t likely, no. But then, any man moight— Well, never moind that, me dear. And the last I saw her, Mrs Marsh spoke bitter enough of ’is Lardship.”

    “That may have been a ruse, Pa.”

    “Didn’t sound loike it!” he said with a fat chuckle. “No, well, it ain’t a laughing matter. I’ll tell Sid he’d best make ’is move when ’e ’as this blasted ball, eh?”

    “I think that would be best, yes, Pa. The sooner the woman can be got out of the district, the better.”

    “Aye,” he said, nodding and sighing.

    “And if there is anything you can think of, that might help Miss Burden to—to take his Lordship’s proposal seriously—?”

    “Hm. Well,” he said, scratching his chins again, “that moight be best left up to Nature, me lovey.”

    “I thought it was ever your opinion,” said Miss Bottomley-Pugh primly, “that Nature could now and then do with a nudge?”

    Mr Bottomley-Pugh shook all over with laughter, kissed her cheek and informed her proudly that she was a One! But owned that that was his opinion, aye, and if he could help the two of ’em, he would.

Next chapter:

https://thepatchworkparasol.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-princes-ball.html