An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy) (19 page)

Even worse, having not had the opportunity or the courage to tell William directly of her
new
resolve, the gentleman himself seemed intent upon becoming ever more attractive, ever more enticing to her in an effort to make her his. Although she tried not to look at them she was yet acutely and despairingly aware of his dark eyes following her whe
r
ever she
happened to be
, and was just as acutely and despairingly aware of her own wish for, and gratification in, him doing just that. It was actually quite disturbing. Maggie had always seen herself as a particularly resolute individual – someone who could easily get what she wanted, as long as she wanted it badly enough. That was all well and good when gowns or
shoes or
even employments were concerned. But on an occasion w
hen it really mattered – on a question
of
love and lifelong
happiness – she was finding
that
her resolution was simply not up to the job
she was
requir
ing
of it. This was
disappointing
and she was a little annoyed with herself. And yet, in a contrary sort of a way, she was also
just
a little
pleased. Perhaps
Mrs Berkeley had been wrong. Perhaps she had weaved a magic spel
l over her that afternoon in Harvey’s
library and persuaded her that what was actually true, was not. Perhaps she had led Maggie to believe that she was not in love with William, when it was patently
obvious
that she was. What then? Where did that leave her, in her own eyes and
in
those of the rest of the world?

So one afternoon, when
Mr Wright
entered the schoolroom and closed the door behind him as Will and Augusta were taking their bread and milk with their brother and sisters
in the nursery upstairs
, instead of requesting that he open the door once again and avoid being entirely alone with her as she knew she should, she found that she was
blushing uncontrollably, that her heart was beating noisily enough to awaken Mrs Staveley
from her afternoon nap
upstairs, and that instead of a polite little curtsy she was offering him a shy but beaming smile instead.

‘So you smile at me at last, you fascinating little puss,’ was her reward as he stepped close to her and took her hand. ‘I had feared that I had offended you, you have seemed so cold and remote of late. Perh
aps you have been playing a lit
tle game
with me
? But if you were hoping to attract me more than ever you have certainly succeeded. You are making me mad with desire for you – and the more you ignore me, the more it seems to grow.’

Maggie felt lost for words. She had certainly not intended to play with him, though perhaps deep down she had been hoping to attract him still.

Mr Wright
still held her hand and used it to encourage her from her seat and into his arms.

‘
Oh,’ he said, shuddering a
little. ’Oh
, how I have dreamed of doing this – of holding you in my arms
. A
ll t
he time, I
dream of this all the time. Every night I have lain awake
next to Georgiana, wishing that it was you who lay beside me,
knowing that you lie in that little bed of yours in the room next to ours –
so close next to mine
-
not daring, not able to come and caress yo
u and love you as I should, as I
need to. You are so soft, so gentle, so absolutely desirable. You know that I want you, don’t you, Maggie? You know that I want you and that one night I shall come and make you m
y own
.’

Maggie shivered – shivered through being in his arms, where
part of her
felt she belonged, and shivered at the thought of sharing her bed with him, of having him to herself in the darkness of the night.

‘Aye, you quiver – you respond to me, don’t you?
-
you cannot deny it. You cannot pretend to be unmoved by me, just as I cannot pretend to be unmoved by you. We were destined to get together like this, Maggie, you know we were. A
ye
you may resist me for a while – you may resist yourself for a while
-
but after that – eventually, when the passion and desire for
each other
become
just
too much to bear – then we shall get together and share the joys that I can promise we will share together.’

Maggie could hear the nursery door
banging
loudly
above them
, and the sound of children shrieking noisily down the
stairs
. Will and Augusta’s break must be over. In another moment they would be back in the schoolroom. They must not catch their governess e
mbraced
within their father’s
manly
arms.

Mr Wright
must have been sensible of it as well.

‘Damn,’ he muttered, kissing her briefly before letting her go once again. ‘The wretched
twins
will be back directly.’

He stood aside and pretended to look out of the window as his eldest children resumed their disorderly places in the schoolroom.

‘I have come to hear you read to me, Will,’ he said, picking up the first
book that came to hand and pass
ing it to his son. ‘I want to be assured that you are progressing entirely as you ought.’

Unfortunately, the book that he had so randomly selected
from the pile
turned out to be ‘Lessons for Children of Two to Three’ and whilst it would scarcely be fair to say that Will was advanced for his age – far from it – h
is lessons were
yet
so far progressed that he felt totally insulted that his papa should ask
him to read from so juvenile a
work
. And Will, being Will, this unintended insult was sufficient to incense him
to a blinding passion
. Indeed, it incensed him
to such an extent that he
instantly
gave out a great yell of anger, wrenched at the pages with all the strength that he could muster, kicked viciously at his father’s ample shins and catapulted
furiously
out of the room.

Maggie took a deep breath, marshalled her thoughts and allowed
a giggling
Augusta her chalk board while
Mr Wright
chased
his
errant
son
entirely down the stairs
.

Will having been invited to the house of an acquaintance
the next
afternoon, Mrs William finally felt herself obliged to drag a reluctant Augusta to the
premises of the
premier modiste in Weymouth in order to acquire for her the rather inappropriate gown she had identified as being ‘just the thing’ in ‘Ackerman’s
Repository
’ a
couple of
month
s
before.

Knowing her eldest daughter as she did, however, and perhaps recalling the
disastrous
outcome of her previous outing into town with one of the twins, she managed to swallow her dislike of Miss Owens sufficiently to ask her to accompany them as reinforcement on their visit. And so it was that a
month or so
after her previous momentous outing Maggie found herself in the middle of St Mary Street once again, Augusta in hand, walking a few paces behind Mrs William
’s broad back
in their sedate if somewhat erratic progress towards Madame Laplanche’s tailoring establishment in an elegant building quite close to Weymouth quay.

Mrs William, perhaps determi
ning that she should not be outsh
one by any modiste of her daughter, had decided to use the occasion to try out the effect of her ne
west outfit
-
a dark green morning gown with no fewer than five ruffles to the hem, complemented by a matching pelisse à la Mameluk, and
the
most becoming bonnet
that she could readily discover
in her more
-
than
-
adequate collection
-
on an admiring local populace. The outfit in question had been the result of several weeks of hard work by one of the top modistes in Dorchester, necessitating a number of inco
n
venient visits to that town
in the preceding month or two, as well as
not a few strong arguments when the outfit in question had failed to come up to Mrs Will
iam’s exacting standards of fit
. Indeed, an unkind observer might have been tempted to suggest that the modiste in question had been set up to fail from the outset, being required, effectively, to produce a silk purse of the sow’s ear that Mrs William had become, but in the end, and at great personal cost to herself, the modiste had finally succeeded in sending her exacting client away with an outfit whose making had cost three times what she eventually managed to secure for it, and had secretly resolved never to accept any commission from the same obnoxious woman ever again.

And as luck would have it, no sooner had Mrs William rounded the corner from St Alban Street into St Mary Street than she spied an acquaintance, still innocent of her presence, tripping quickly along the pavement towards her, little girl in hand. The acquaintance was no other than Mrs Berkeley, on her way with little Kate to visit the elderly parents of one of her maids, and with the added intention of delivering to them some cast
-
off but
newly refurbished clothing which
the maid had assured her would be most gratefully received.

The availability of so distinguished an admirer as Mrs Berkeley might well have satisfied a lady of even more demanding a nature than Mrs William
-
always assuming, of course, that a more deman
ding lady could possibly exist -
but considering the effort that had been expended in achieving the required effect, it is hardly surprising that it had apparently earned the approbation of yet another devotee into the bargain.
This new admirer, however, was consi
derably less worthy of
impress
ing
than Mrs Berkeley
certainly was,
taking – as he did -
the form of one of the numerous local herring gulls which usually loitered noisily
and superciliously
together
around the quay. Much to Mrs William’s singular misfortune he selected that very moment
of all moments to demonstrate
his appreciation
of her outfit
in the way that
was unfortunately commonplace amongst
Weymouth gulls – that is, in the form of a white, splodgy and particularly fishy deposit which arrived from the heavens without
any
warning
at all. The deposit
ended up exactly on the cusp of h
is target’s
left shoulder
, enabling
its more liquid elements to spread most artistically
down both the front and the rear
of the otherwise prist
ine dark green garment.
Mrs William, who had just at that
moment been peer
ing over her right shoulder at a particul
arly becoming
satin
bonnet in Mr Davis
on’s display window whilst making a bee
-
line towards her victim, was not immediately aware of this disaster and f
or a second Maggie, following along
behind with Augusta, was in two minds as to whether or not to point it out to her. Augusta,
however
, felt a lot less circumspect than Maggie did. Giggling gleefully, she tugged at her mama’s generous skirts and – a little inelegantly – pointed out the deposit which was newly decorating the shoulder of her
stylish
green
pelisse.

Mrs William spotted the deposit at last and emitted a monstrous shriek.

‘Oh, good
grief
,’ she expostulated, standing stock still and twisting her neck awkwardly to ascertain the extent of the modifications to her outfit. ‘Oh good grief. Of all the
...
.whoever allows all these
od
ious
gulls to fly about the place and deposit on everybody? Really, it is the outside of enough. I wonder that the Corporation should allow
it. M
iss Owens – Miss Owens, be good enough to take out your handkerchief and wipe this mess away this instant.’

Sorry to say, Maggie was feeling a little rebellious that day. She did not see why she should ruin a perfectly good handkerchief
of her own
just to pander to Mrs Wright’s
insatiable
vanity. So instead of taking out the silk that she knew full well was residing at the bottom of her reticule she replied, sweetly and not altogether untruthfully: ‘Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs Wright – I had not expected to have the need of a handkerchief this afternoon’, thus requiring her irritated employer to provide her with one of her own instead.