Elizabeth Mansfield (10 page)

Cassie shook her head. “No, Miss Penny, I shan’t let myself faint. But, Papa, I don’t understand you. How can you have taken such a step without consulting me first?”

“I
did
consult ye. In fact, this only came about because you yerself asked me to do it.”

“I?” She blinked up at her father in shock. “
l
asked you to
bribe his lordship to make me an offer
? I would never
dream
of suggesting something so monstrous.”

“What’s monstrous about it?” Chivers demanded, torn between fury and bewilderment. “Ye asked me to ’elp him out of ’is financial difficulties, did ye not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, what better way to ’elp him than this? ’E’ll get every cent ’e needs and a wonderful wife as well.”

“A wonderful wife?” The girl made a helpless gesture with two shaking hands. “How wonderful can a wife be, Papa, if she is not one of his own choosing? If he doesn’t… l-love her.”

“Love? What balderdash! A man choosin’ a wife for love is romantic poppycock. The best marriages are made by interested third parties, not by a man an’ a maid becomin’ infatuated at a ball while executin’ a quadrille. Marriages should be
arranged
, like sensible business partnerships.”

“You don’t understand, Papa.” Cassie’s lips trembled, and she put both shaking hands up to her mouth in an attempt to steady herself. “You don’t remember about love anymore. For someone young, like Lord Kittridge, love is … everything.”

“What?” The bedevilled father glowered at her in irritation. “I can’t tell what y’re sayin’ with your mouth covered up like that!” Sighing helplessly, he sat down on the sofa beside her and took one of her hands in his. “What’s the matter with you, Cassie?” he asked more quietly. “I thought ye’d be delighted by this news. I thought ye
liked
the fellow.”

The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I d-do, Papa, that’s just it. I l-like him too much to wish to
t-trap
him.”

“But, confound it, Cassie, ye’d not be trappin’ ’im! Ye’d be ’
elpin
’ ’im!”

The tears spilled over. Feeling quite incapable of explaining to her father the reasons for her abhorrence of his scheme, Cassie snatched her hand away, turned her back on him and said, quite firmly, “I won’t do it, Papa, so please don’t say any more.”

“What’s that? Won’t
do
it?” He rose from the sofa, impotent rage washing over him again. “Cassie Chivers, ’ow
dare
ye say that to me? I’m yer
father
! I arranged this for
yer own ’appiness
! You will do as I say!”

“No, Papa, I won’t.” She did not look at him, and the words were muffled from behind the hands that covered her face, but there was no mistaking the determination of her voice.

Mr. Chivers’s neck and ears reddened as his blood rose to his head in choleric anger. “I said you
will
!” he shouted.

There was no answer except a firm shake of her head,
no
.

Chivers turned a pair of frantic eyes to Miss Penicuick, as if seeking help from that direction, but the housekeeper could only shrug hopelessly. Then he looked back at his daughter’s bent head. “Cassie,” he pleaded in desperation, “ye
must
wed ’im. I
promised
the fellow. It was a
bargain
. We
shook ’ands
on it!”

“Then dash it, Papa, you must wed him yourself,” his daughter sobbed, jumping up and running from the room, “for I never will. Never!”

“
Cassie
,” her father shouted after her, “come back ’ere! At once, do you ’ear! Damn it, girl, don’t you
want
to be a viscountess?
Cassie
!”

But the girl was gone.

He stalked to the doorway. “Kittridge is comin’ ’ere
tomorrow
!” he yelled, his voice thundering down the corridor. “To dinner. I expect ye to present yerself to ’im all prim and proper, do you ’ear me, Cassie? Tomorrow at eight!”

The only response came from Eames, the butler, who came stumbling up from below stairs with an expression of alarm on his usually impassive face. “Did you want me, Mr. Chivers, sir?” he asked breathlessly.

Chivers stamped on the floor in chagrin. “No, I didn’t want ye,” he growled. “Go away.”

The butler, surprised at this unwarranted display of temper, withdrew at once. Miss Penicuick, quite unaccustomed to such theatrics in this usually peaceful household, threw her employer a terrified glance. Wringing her hands nervously, she came to the doorway and edged round him to follow her charge. “I think I … I’ll just go and see—” she began as she stepped into the hallway.

“Just one moment, Miss Penicuick,” he ordered angrily.

She jumped. “Yes, sir?”

“You ’eard what I said just now. Lord Kittridge is comin’ for dinner tomorrow. See that Cassie is dressed proper an’ is ready to receive ’im.”

“But, sir, you know Cassie. If she’s decided that this is not a suitable match …”

“Not a suitable match? Are ye both
demented
? The fellow is a veritable
thoroughbred
!”

“Yes, sir, I agree. But Cassie must have her reasons. And you know as well as I that she does not change her mind once it’s made up. If she says she won’t come down—”

“Then ye must
convince
her, do ye understand me? That’s an order! She’ll be down for dinner, all beribboned an’ bedecked an’ with a smile on ’er face, or someone standin’ not ten inches from me at this moment will find ’erself
out on the street
! Do I make myself plain?”

Miss Penicuick gulped, nodded, burst into tears and ran off down the hall. “I d-don’t say I won’t t-try,” the poor woman stammered as she mounted the stairs, “but to g-get C-Cassie to face his lordship when she has her m-mind so set against it will t-take a m-miracle. A God-sent m-miracle.”

Chapter Eleven

The next day Mr. Chivers came home from the City three hours early, having been unable to concentrate for a single moment on business matters. His hair was wild, the eyes behind his thick spectacles troubled and his knees shaky. “’As she come down yet?” he asked Miss Penicuick as soon as he set foot in the house.

Miss Penicuick looked haggard. “No, sir,” she said nervously, “not even once. She won’t talk to me or open her door, nor has she eaten a bite since last night.”

Mr. Chivers patted her shoulder. “It’s all right, Miss Penicuick,” he said, feeling contrite. “I’ll take care of everythin’. Sorry I put myself in such a pucker and upset ye.”

He mounted the stairs slowly, tasting the bitterness of defeat in his mouth. Tapping on his daughter’s door gently, he mentally rehearsed his speech of capitulation. “Cassie, my love, open the door. I’ve decided that ye needn’t wed Lord Kittridge after all.”

The key turned in the lock and the door opened, but only an inch. “Do you mean it, Papa?” the girl asked, peeping through the narrow opening with eyes reddened from prolonged weeping.

“Yes, of course I do. I ain’t a monster to force my girl to wed against ’er ’eart’s wishes, although I may ’ave sounded like one last night.”

Cassie opened the door and threw her arms about her father’s neck. “Of course you’re not a monster! Thank you, Papa, for changing your mind.”

Chivers kissed her cheek. “But there’s something ye must do for me in return,” he said, leading her into her bedroom and seating her on the chaise near the window. “Ye must still act the ’ostess for me tonight when Kittridge calls.”

She stiffened. “But, Papa, I
can’t
—”

He perched on her bed. “Is it so much to ask? We shall ’ave a small, polite dinner, over in an hour, and then ye can excuse yourself while I tell ’im we’ve changed our minds. Givin’ ’im dinner is the least I can do after renegin’ on my bargain. Besides, I can’t withdraw the invitation this late in the day.”

“But surely you don’t need
me
at the table, Papa. I’d feel dreadfully awkward, under the circumstances.”

Her father eyed her irritably. “It’d be dreadfully awkward not ’aving ye there, don’t ye see that?”

She clenched her hands in her lap. “Please, Papa, don’t insist. You know how hard it is for me to … to speak to strangers.”

“But the man ain’t a stranger. ’E was yer rescuer at the linendraper’s. Y’re already very well acquainted.”

“I wouldn’t call that well acquainted.”

“Well enough acquainted, I’d say, for a simple dinner. Dash it all, Cassie, why are ye makin’ difficulties for me? Don’t ye see that I need ye to act as ’ostess?”

Cassie felt miserable at having to refuse him, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept. “Miss Penicuick will do very well as hostess. I can’t do it, Papa. I just can’t. Please don’t keep on about it.”

Chivers sighed, defeated again. What was he to do with the girl? He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and got heavily to his feet. “Very well, Miss, ’ave it yer way,” he muttered, turning to the door.

“Papa?” she asked shyly as he was about to leave.

“Yes?”

“I’m … sorry.”

“I know.” He went gloomily to the door.

“Papa?”

He turned. “What now?”

“What will Lord Kittridge do now? About his finances, I mean.”

“Ye needn’t worry yer ’ead about that,” he said impatiently. “I’ll find ’im another heiress to wed. There are a good many girls with rich fathers who’d jump at the chance to snare a prize like Kittridge. I’ll find one of ’em for ’im. I owe the fellow that.”

* * *

Promptly at eight the knocker sounded. Chivers, who’d been watching for the carriage from behind the drapes of the drawing room window, arrived at the door ahead of the butler. He welcomed his guest warmly, shaking his hand with nervous enthusiasm as Eames took his lordship’s hat and cane and disappeared down the hall. “I ’ope you’ve a good appetite, your lordship,” Chivers said, clapping his guest on the shoulder. “My chef is from Paris an’ makes the finest partridge
à
la Pompadour
y’re ever likely to taste.”

Lord Kittridge was elegantly attired in evening clothes and, except for a tightness about his mouth, seemed very much at ease. “I look forward to sampling it,” he said. “If your chef is half as talented as the architect who designed this house, Mr. Chivers, the meal will be splendid.”

“Ah!” Chivers’s eyes lit up. “Ye noticed the design of the façade, then?”

“I did indeed. The lines are superb. Impressive in scale but not in the least ostentatious. You are to be complimented.”

Oliver Chivers beamed, his chest swelling with pride. Nothing Kittridge might have said could have pleased him more. He glanced at his guest with rueful admiration. It would have been very satisfying to have so presentable a son-in-law. Why, oh why, he asked himself, did his daughter have to be so damnably, stubbornly resistant?

It was time, he supposed, to make some sort of excuse for Cassie’s absence. He took a deep breath. “I must apologize, my lord, for the fact that my daughter ain’t—” But at that moment a sound from the stairway above them drew his eyes.

The befuddled father gasped in astonishment. Coming down toward them, her face lit by a shy smile, was Cassie herself. She was dressed modestly in a lavender gown with a ruffled neck and puffed sleeves, and she’d draped a lovely Norwich silk shawl over her shoulders. To her father’s delight, she looked very pretty. She’d even managed to subdue her unruly hair, having pinned it back in a tight knot, so that only little tendrils had escaped to frame her face with an auburn halo. “Cassie!” he exclaimed, unable to disguise his surprise. “Y’ve come down!”

“Yes, Papa,” she said in her quiet voice, “of course I have.” She came down the last step and offered her hand to their guest. “Good evening, my lord. We are so glad you could d-dine with us.”

Lord Kittridge, subduing a vulgar urge to satisfy his curiosity about his intended bride by gaping at
her face, merely gave her a quick glance. About to bow over her hand, he suddenly stiffened. “But we’ve met, have we not?” he asked, peering at her with a puzzled frown.

“Just last week,” she said, coloring painfully. “You saved me from d-dreadful embarrassment at Hollings and Chast.”

The tightness of his lordship’s mouth softened in a charming smile. “Of course. How pleasant to meet you again!”

Chivers, recognizing that Cassie’s shyness had increased at the reference to last week’s fiasco, immediately urged his guest into the drawing room. There Miss Penicuick sat waiting. Her eyes widened at the sight of Cassie in their midst, but she managed to hide her surprise. Chivers introduced her as Cassie’s companion. The introduction was an ordeal Miss Penicuick survived without a gaffe. Only a slight tremor of her fingers revealed her excitement at being an observer of this most romantic turn of events. If it came to pass that her Cassie married this handsome nobleman after all, Miss Penicuick’s dreams for her charge would have come true!

As Eames passed among them with a tray of sherries, Chivers sighed in relief. The evening had been launched without the embarrassment he’d expected. Now all he had to do was keep conversation flowing through the meal, wait until the women excused themselves and tell his lordship that he would find another bride for him in Cassie’s place. The evening wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he’d feared.

Dinner was soon announced, and Kittridge offered Cassie his arm with appropriate gallantry. Chivers, following with Miss Penicuick, felt proud of the graceful polish of his daughter’s acceptance of his lordship’s escort. The girl knew how to conduct herself, that much was plain. Perhaps her years at the Marchmont Academy had been of some use. He noted with a sigh that Lord Kittridge and his daughter made an attractive pair. For the hundredth time that evening he regretted the girl’s stubborn refusal to submit to the arrangement he’d engineered for her.
Damn the chit
, he cursed in his head,
she doesn’t know what’s good for her
!

Chivers found that he had to carry on the dinner conversation almost singlehandedly, for Cassie was her usual quiet self, Miss Penicuick in too dithery a state to add anything substantial, and Kittridge, though he tried to hide it, was too distracted But his lordship ate well and did not fail to praise the partridge, so Chivers did not consider the dinner a complete failure. But the time dragged by slowly, and when the wonderful apple soufflé the chef had concocted to give the repast a final flourish was at last consumed, he felt relieved that the meal was at an end.