Elizabeth Mansfield (9 page)

***

Roger was rather silent on the walk back to their lodgings, so Lady Denham took the bull by the horns and broached the subject in a direct assault. “I trust you made some headway with Miss Glendenning this evening,” she said candidly.

Roger, who had been in a brown study, started. “What did you say, Mama? Headway?” he asked abstractedly. “Oh, you mean to ask if I encouraged her to look upon my suit more favorably. No, my dear, I’ve made no headway at all.”

Lady Denham sniffed disgustedly. “Nonsense, you
must
have. Why, you spent over half an hour with her. Everyone remarked upon it.”

“Did they?” Roger asked drily. “How very delightful. Shall all our encounters be clocked and
watched like that—as if we were a pair of racehorses?”

“Roger, I hope I need not remind you that I’m your mother and will brook no disrespect. You needn’t get on your high ropes with me. And you can’t disappear with a refined young lady for over half an hour without having it remarked upon.”

“I have often disappeared with a young lady—and for much longer than half an hour—without any ill consequences,” he insisted.

“In London, perhaps, in that fast set with whom you choose to hobnob. But here in Bath, with the daughter of Lionel Glendenning, no, my dear boy, no.”

Roger snorted. “Fast?
My
set? Really, Mama, you can’t mean it. Denny Wivilscombe and Stosh St. John and Marmaduke Shackleford
fast
?” He laughed loudly.

Lady Denham was not amused but regarded her son with skeptical disdain. “If you think to put me off my question by this obvious irrelevancy, you’re off the mark,” she told him curtly.

“I thought I’d answered your question,” Roger said with false innocence, “but, to repeat, I saw no sign—in our over-half-an-hour
assignation
—that Miss Glendenning was any nearer to accepting me than she’d been when I asked her before.”

“But
something
must have transpired between you. You’ve been completely abstracted since you restored her to her aunt.”

“Have I been?” Roger asked. “If I have, it’s because I’ve discovered some surprising facets in the girl. I’ll admit to you, Mama, that she is not at all mousy, as I’d first supposed. She’s hidden herself behind a rather thick wall of reserve, but when she reveals what lies behind it, she is quite—”

His mother looked at him keenly. “Quite what?” she prodded.

He grinned down at her boyishly. “Quite enchanting,” he admitted.

“Well!” sighed his mother in satisfaction. “That is a remarkable discovery to have made in a half-hour tête-à-tête.”

Roger laughed. “I know. You needn’t say it. You told me so.”

“So I did. Over and over. I’m delighted, though, that you’ve discovered it for yourself. It’s not the sort of thing one wants to take another’s word for—even one’s own mother’s word.”

“I’ve made another discovery, too, that proves I have a very shrewd mother,” Roger said, his smile fading.

“As if that needed proof,” she retorted quickly. But, seeing his changed expression, her own smile disappeared. “Oh, dear, what now?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m afraid you were right about my having offended her. She hinted as much to me.”

“I knew it! What had you done, you scoundrel?”

“I don’t know. She won’t speak of it.”

“Won’t speak of it? Why, Roger, it sounds as if you’ve done something rather dreadful to the girl!” she said, aghast.

“It does, doesn’t it,” Roger muttered, rubbing his chin ruefully.

“She gave you no clue at all?”

“No, none. She was completely immovable in her refusal to reveal the circumstances to me.”

They had, by this time, arrived at the house, and their conversation was interrupted while the butler took their wraps. Roger requested a brandy to be brought to the study, but Lady Denham chose to go directly to bed. With a hand on the banister, she turned to her son. “Roger, it’s incredible to me that you could so offend a young lady and not realize it. Think! Try to remember everything of your courtship. What could you have said or done to her?”

Roger sighed. “I’ve tried, Mama, truly. I’ve gone over it and over it in my mind. I tell you, our
conversation was made up of the most trivial of commonplaces. I paid her compliments, which she answered in monosyllables. I made little pleasantries, to which she smiled wanly. I can think of nothing—nothing!—at all out of the way.”

“But the girl is neither stupid nor mad. She cannot have
imagined
a slight!”

“I agree completely. I must have done
something.
But what? The only thing I can think of is my offer itself. You said I was by far too precipitous.”

Lady Denham rejected the idea. “An offer of marriage is not
offensive,
even if it
is
precipitous. Unwelcome, perhaps, but not offensive.”

Roger could only shrug helplessly. Lady Denham shook her head, sighed, and went up the stairs. Roger retreated to the study, where he sank into a comfortable chair and sipped his brandy thoughtfully. But brandy offered no answer, either, and in due time he gave up the puzzle and went wearily to bed.

***

Letty, too, found herself being subjected to close questioning by her family when they returned home that evening. First, Aunt Millicent asked her what she and Lord Denham had talked about for upward of half an hour. Getting little satisfaction from Letty’s evasive answers, she gave up and retired. Then Katie came in to help her into her nightclothes and asked a number of questions that clearly indicated that the perspicacious abigail had already learned—from what source heaven only knew—that Lord Denham had been present at the concert and had spent some time with Letty. Letty refused to answer. She dismissed the girl, telling her to see to Prue and leave her alone. But just as she was brushing her hair, the last chore before she would blow out the candles and retire for the night, her door opened and Prue, dressed only in a muslin nightdress, tiptoed in. “Oh, you’re still awake,” she observed cheerfully. “Good. I want to talk to you.”

“Not tonight, Prue, please. I’m worn to the bone. Go to bed.”

Prue ignored these remarks with such complete indifference that her sister could not be sure she had heard them. Prue perched on the bed cheerfully and tucked her legs up under her comfortably. “I think you must be mad,” she said. “He’s everything Aunt Millicent said he was—handsome and charming and kind. And he likes you. Really. I could tell by the way he looks at you.”

“Prue, go to bed,” her sister pleaded wearily.

“Did he do something dreadful to you?” Prue persisted. “Did he fondle your breast or some such thing?”

“Fondle my breast!” gasped Letty incredulously. “Good God, Prue, wherever did you get such an idea?”

“Well, promise not to tell anyone, but I read all about such things in a most shocking book called
Pamela.
Neddie’s friend, Tom Vanleigh—do you remember him? The one with the spots—well, he gave it to me. All eight volumes. And I’ve had a terrible time hiding them, especially from Gussie, I can tell you! Well, anyway, in the story, poor Pamela is pursued by a Mr. B. who loves her but doesn’t want to offer wedlock. So she refuses his advances, but he keeps attempting to seduce her, and he always comes up behind her at the most unexpected times and puts his hand—”

“Prue, that’s enough!” cried Letty, horrified. “Such a story is too shocking to
read,
much less to repeat, and—”

“It’s a
wonderful
story to read,” Prue said defiantly. “I loved every word of it!”

“For shame! If you were a lady, instead of a brazen little hoyden, you would not admit to being the least bit interested in such a tale! And to suggest that a gentleman like Lord Denham would
even
think
of behaving in such a monstrously rude fash—” But a sudden recollection of an embrace, in which she had been held so closely that a hand on her breast would have seemed tame by comparison, brought her up short. She fell silent and colored to her ears.

Prue did not fail to note her sister’s embarrassment. Her eyes opened wide, and in an awed whisper, she gasped, “Oh, Letty!
Did
he—?”

“No, he did
not
!” Letty almost shouted. “And I’d be obliged if you’d remove yourself and your vulgar suggestions from this room at once!”

“Very well,” Prue said, tossing her head proudly and getting up from the bed. “I’ll go. But I’m not too far off the mark, I’m sure of that.
Something
made you color up like that.” She went to the door and paused. Looking back at her sister, she said in a knowing tone, “I wouldn’t let myself be too angry with Denham if I were you. He
did
ask you to marry him, which is more than Mr. B. did for poor Pamela—until the end of the story, that is.”

“Prudence Glendenning—!” her sister muttered warningly.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Prue assured her. “But if you continue to behave like a prudish old cat, you’ll
never
get married.” And by darting quickly out the door, she managed to escape being struck by the hairbrush that her infuriated sister had thrown in her direction.

The altercation between the sisters could not be classified as more serious than a squabble, and since squabbles between sisters are quite frequent in occurrence and petty in nature, the irritations they generate are not likely to be lasting. So it is not surprising that the following morning, Prue and Letty greeted each other with smiles of perfect amicability. The clear, bright day had lightened Letty’s spirits, and with Prue wisely refraining from any reference to the subject of the night before, they entered the breakfast room hand in hand, greeting their aunt with high-spirited warmth.

All three were agreed that this lovely day was to be spent outdoors, and soon they were happily engaged in making plans for a morning stroll through the famous Sydney Gardens. This was interrupted, however, by the announcement that a morning caller—none other than Lord Denham himself—waited below. Lady Upsham instructed her butler to show him up immediately. As soon as the butler left the room, Letty mumbled an excuse and made for the door, but Aunt Millicent ordered her to resume her seat and to refrain from such skittish behavior. “It’s time you learned to behave like a lady, my dear,” Millicent said implacably. “You should count yourself fortunate that Lord Denham bears you no ill will and is willing to seek your company.”

“But why should he
want
my company?” Letty asked in desperation. “What purpose could there be—?”

But her question was not to be answered, for Lord Denham entered at that moment. With a charming smile for each of the ladies, he wished them good morning and delivered a message from his mother, inviting Lady Upsham to take luncheon with her. As for himself, he would be delighted to have the companionship of the Misses Glendenning for a ride in his curricle.

Letty opened her mouth to refuse, but Lady Upsham broke in before Letty could utter a sound. “How thoughtful of you, Lord Denham,” she said effusively. “It is quite the perfect day for a drive. And although I’m afraid I cannot spare Prue this morning—I require her assistance on an errand of some urgency—I’m sure Letitia will be happy to accompany you.” With that, she turned to Letty with a look that brooked no opposition and said with a meaningful smile, “
Won’t
you, Letty dear?”

Letty met her aunt’s eye with a rebellious flicker in her own, but realizing that an unpleasant scene would undoubtedly follow if she disobeyed the unspoken command, she submitted. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she nodded and said meekly, “Yes, of course, if Lord Denham can wait until I change into something more appropriate.”

“I’ll wait as long as necessary, of course,” Denham said promptly, “although I think you look charming just as you are.”

Letty glanced up at him distrustfully but met a look of such sincere sympathy that she was quite disarmed. Nevertheless, it was with a great deal of trepidation that, a few minutes later, having put on a fetching bonnet of natural straw and a camlet shawl, she permitted herself to be handed up into his lordship’s curricle.

Prue and Aunt Millicent watched their departure from an upstairs window. “There,” Aunt Millicent said with a relieved sigh when the curricle had disappeared from view, “that’s done.”

“What do you mean, Aunt?” Prue demanded forthrightly. “Are you making a game of poor Letty?”

Millicent frowned at her niece quellingly. “Never mind, Miss. Your manners are sadly in need of mending. For one thing, I don’t like your tone when you address your elders. For another, I don’t like your asking questions about matters that are not your concern.”

Prue, never one to quail before an attack, remained undaunted. “I beg your pardon, but if you’re going to tell whiskers involving me, then perhaps I’d best be in on the plot.”

“Whiskers!” her aunt exclaimed furiously. “Prudence, do you accuse me of telling a
lie
?”

“Well, didn’t you?” Prue asked reasonably. “You don’t
truly
need me for any errand, do you? You only said that so Denham would have Letty to himself.”

Millicent Upsham fixed Prue with a level stare and, drawing herself up to her full height, declared with dignity, “I do
not
tell whiskers, young lady. And I
do
need you for an errand. I need your help to … to …” She hesitated, waiting for some inspiration to assist her.

Prue grinned mischievously. “To do what, Aunt?”

“To help me choose a gown to wear for my luncheon with Lady Denham,” Millicent responded, without so much as a flicker of her eyelashes to indicate that she knew Prue would not be taken in by such a ridiculous answer.

“Oh, Aunt Millicent, really! As if Miss Tristle would permit
me
to—”

“Never mind Miss Tristle. I say I need you, and I do. And I don’t intend to stand about bandying words with a jingle-brained snip of a girl who has more tongue than manners.” She marched firmly to the doorway. “Now come along. We have a great deal to do this morning.” She left the room without a further word.

Prue made a grimace at her aunt’s retreating back that managed to combine annoyed impatience with saucy amusement. “Huh!” she snorted under her breath. “Jingle-brained snip, am I? Well, not so jingle brained that I don’t know a whisker when I hear one.” And making one last, disrespectful face, she followed her aunt out of the room.