Enlightening Delilah (11 page)

Sir Charles ignored Delilah’s fulminating look and turned his attention to Miss Pretty-Follip and Lady Devere and proceeded to show Miss Delilah Wraxall a lesson in the art of flirtation. While Miss Pretty-Follip and Lady Devere wriggled and pouted and giggled, Delilah sat ignored by all.

There was a flash of lightning, followed by a terrific crash of thunder. The rain began to drum down outside.

‘We are going to be trapped here for some time,’ said Sir Charles cheerfully.

‘I am tired of all this,’ said Delilah. ‘I wish to go home.’

‘I do not have a closed carriage, so you will just need to have patience and wait until the rain has stopped,’ said Sir Charles sweetly.

Delilah glared at him and walked out.

He waited, amused, for her return. But after a quarter of an hour had passed and there was no sign of her, he made his excuses to the two ladies and went to look for her, only to find that she had rented a closed carriage and left for London.

Miss Pretty-Follip and Lady Devere wondered what had happened to their gallant cavalier. A handsome, flirtatious man had left the room in search of Miss Wraxall, and an angry, stiff, and formal gentleman had returned. Sir Charles tried to console himself with the thought that he had done what he had set out to do. He was very sure that Delilah would not speak to Lord Andrew again.

He could now get down to the business of looking for a wife for himself. He thought the thundery weather must be affecting his spleen, he felt so low and bored at the very thought of wife-hunting.

Say what you will, ’tis better to be left, than never to have been loved.

William Congreve

Although Effy was dismayed when Delilah confessed to having written an express to her father, demanding that he come to Town and give her an immediate explanation as to why he had placed her with the Tribbles, Amy was delighted. She would see the squire again. The sisters had received a polite letter from Mr Haddon saying he expected to be back in London soon. Amy wanted to secure her triumph before his return. It was only just that Mr Haddon should be brought to a speedy appreciation of the prize that he had missed securing for himself.

Delilah continued her lessons on the pianoforte. She was now a passable dancer of the quadrille. She begged the Tribbles to dispense with the Italian and French tutors as she could not bring herself to follow the fashion by speaking in either of those languages. Delilah considered such a practice affected and would have none of it.

Amy dismissed the Italian teacher, but Effy insisted on retaining the French tutor, saying she wished to become fluent in that language herself. The French master, Monsieur Duclos, was quite attractive, a fact that the squire-besotted Amy failed to notice. He was a slim man in his early forties, with a sallow face, only slightly pock-marked. He had a good figure and a sparkling pair of liquid brown eyes in a thin and clever face.

Effy justified the luxury of French lessons by hiring him for only two hours a week, thus being able to persuade herself it was not a very great expense.

She had just finished one of her lessons when the squire was announced. Amy was out walking with Delilah. Effy soothed the squire’s troubles by explaining that Delilah had initially been most upset to find they, the Tribbles, were not old friends at all, but merely earning their living, but that, once the initial row was over, Delilah appeared to have settled down.

The squire’s face cleared. ‘Then I can count myself the happiest man in England. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Miss Amy. I am to be married.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Effy faintly. ‘Does my sister know of this?’

‘I am looking forward to telling her,’ said Mr Wraxall.

Effy felt quite sick. So Amy was to be married. What on earth would she do now? She would be very lonely without Amy.

‘Are you sure you are making the right decision, Mr Wraxall?’ said Effy. ‘Surely no one can take the place of your beloved wife. And then, would it not be better to wait until Delilah has set up her own household?’

‘Delilah will understand. I thought I should never feel at ease with a lady again,’ said the squire, ‘but Miss Amy changed all that.’

Effy felt like crying. Amy would not care. Amy would be so happy and excited she would leave the house in Holles Street without a backward glance. It was terrible that Amy, plain Amy, should be the first of them to get married after all these years.

Delilah and Amy entered the room at that moment. Delilah flew into her father’s arms. Amy and Effy tactfully withdrew to leave them alone.

As Effy had already explained, Delilah had lost all her initial fury at finding the Tribbles were being paid for their services, but she could not help asking plaintively, ‘Am I so very bad, Papa?’

‘No, my chuck. But I am deeply concerned for you. I would like to see my grandchildren before I die. I cannot help feeling your continuing independence is in part my fault. I should have encouraged you more to find a suitable partner.’

‘It has been borne in on me I am judged to be a heart-breaker, Papa. My only quarrel with you is that you might have told me sooner what everyone was saying about me.’

‘What people say about you does not matter to me,’ said the squire, ‘and I confess, for a long time I put such gossip down to jealousy. But if you are content with your home life and if the idea of marriage is really repugnant to you, then you may return with me this day.’

Delilah found to her surprise that she did not want to return . . . yet. She was enjoying her life in London. Besides, she had not seen Sir Charles since the day of the picnic, and it was important that she see him again to show him how indifferent she was to him.

‘Perhaps another month,’ she said. ‘Who knows? I may find a beau yet.’

‘Have you anyone in mind?’

Delilah laughed. ‘I thought I had. There is a certain Lord Andrew Bergrave who was courting me, but it appears he is a hardened gambler and so I have been trying to keep out of his way. I suppose he
is
a hardened gambler, but I cannot help feeling that it was Sir Charles who went out of his way to make him appear so.’

‘Perhaps Sir Charles was concerned for your welfare.’

‘Not he.’

‘I think you do him an injustice. It is not that he is enamoured of you, rather that he feels a loyalty to someone from our village. I, too, would feel compelled to step in if I met a young lady from Hoppleton and thought she was about to plunge into a bad match.’

‘I detest Sir Charles. He has too high an opinion of his attractions.’

‘People might say the same about you.’

‘Why do you always defend him?’

‘I think you are too hard on him. He is a level-headed and sensible young man.’

‘Hardly young!’ exclaimed Delilah.

‘You will soon be wearing caps yourself,’ pointed out the squire brutally.

‘Pooh! There is no need to try to
frighten
me into marriage,’ said Delilah.

‘Now, listen to me,’ said the squire. ‘I have great news. I am to be married!’

‘Well, it is not so much of a surprise,’ said Delilah. She had grown to like Amy, but she had to admit she did not relish the idea of surrendering the reins of household government to anyone else.

‘You knew of my affection?’ cried the squire. ‘It is only I who was blind. It took Miss Amy to open my eyes.’

‘Does Miss Amy know?’ asked Delilah. ‘Have you . . . ?’

‘Not yet,’ said the squire.

‘Then I shall fetch her.’

Delilah soon returned with Amy. ‘But bring Miss Effy here as well,’ said the squire. ‘I want everyone to hear this.’

Looking surprised, Delilah went to fetch Effy. Amy curtsied to the squire, blushed slightly and went and sat down, trying to look demure and modest.

Effy came in. She had a sudden premonition that Amy had made a terrible mistake and went to stand behind her sister and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘I have great pleasure in announcing my forthcoming marriage,’ said the squire. ‘It is thanks to you, Miss Amy, that I have found happiness.’

Effy relaxed her grip on Amy’s shoulder. But it was an odd sort of way of making a proposal.

‘You may be assured, Mr Wraxall, that the lady is delighted to accept you,’ said Amy.

‘Well,’ laughed the squire, ‘that was indeed the case, but I did not expect to be so lucky. I had long enjoyed the company of Mrs Cavendish without being aware of it. I was frightened and shy in the company of ladies. Then I met you, Miss Amy, so direct, so honest, such a good chap that somehow it put my fears to rest. Yes, I proposed to Mrs Cavendish, a widow in our village, ladies, and she accepted.’

Delilah looked at Amy’s stricken face. She had been about to cry out ‘Mrs Cavendish!’ but that look on Amy’s face stopped her. For Amy’s sake, the news must be accepted without surprise.

Amy rose to her feet. Effy put an arm around her sister’s waist. ‘I am pleased and I congratulate you,’ said Amy. ‘I wish you and Mrs Cavendish well. Pray excuse us. We are sure you have much to discuss.’

Effy and Amy walked from the room.

Delilah listened until she was sure they were well out of earshot and then she rounded on her father. ‘Men!’ she cried. ‘Did you or did you not tell Miss Amy she had made you think of marriage?’

‘Of course I did. Have I not explained? It was she who made me feel at ease with women again.’

‘And you call
me
a heart-breaker!’ said Delilah bitterly. ‘You led that poor lady to believe you meant to propose marriage to her.’

‘I could not,’ said the squire. ‘Oh, if that is the case, I must apologize to her directly.’

‘No, you must not,’ said Delilah. ‘That would be even more humiliating. Did you not think she had feelings?’

‘I thought of her as a good friend,’ said the squire mournfully.

‘I will try to comfort her as best I can,’ said Delilah. ‘Now to talk of your marriage . . .’

The squire was only too eager to forget about Amy and talk about Mrs Cavendish. Before he left, he said he would stay the night at Limmer’s Hotel and return to the country in the morning.

After he had gone, Delilah sat deep in thought. She was very fond of Mrs Cavendish and thought the marriage very suitable. On the other hand, Mrs Cavendish was an excellent housekeeper. Delilah would be left idle. All her tasks – tending the vegetable garden, making jams and pickles and cordials, visiting the poor and sick – would all be taken over by Mrs Cavendish. For the first time in her life, Delilah began to find the idea of an establishment of her own attractive.

She went upstairs to look for Amy and met Effy on the landing. ‘Silly woman,’ said Effy, meaning Amy. ‘She will not let me comfort her but sits there, drinking brandy, and saying she knew all along about this Mrs Cavendish and had only said the squire was going to marry her to tease me.’

Effy went on downstairs and Delilah ran up to Amy’s room and went inside.

‘Hey, ho!’ said Amy, her eyes bright and feverish. ‘Have some brandy.’

‘Thank you,’ said Delilah. Amy handed her a glass. ‘To the happy pair,’ she said. Delilah drank the toast and then refilled her glass and raised it. She looked at Amy. ‘To me and you, Miss Amy,’ she said, ‘and all poor, broken-hearted rejected women everywhere.’

Delilah suddenly put down her glass and her eyes filled with tears. It came back to her in a rush, all the feelings of humiliation and sadness that Sir Charles’s rejection of her had caused. She had never cried over it, but now she did and felt she could not stop. Tears began to pour down Amy’s leathery cheeks as well, and both women cried unchecked for a long time.

‘That’s better,’ said Amy at last. ‘Much better. Thank you for making me cry, Delilah.’

‘And thank you, too, Amy,’ said Delilah, dropping the title of ‘Miss,’ for she felt she and Amy were sisters in affliction.

Amy refilled the glasses. ‘A pox on all men,’ she said.

‘Confusion to ’em,’ said Delilah, knocking back her drink in one gulp.

When Effy entered sometime later, it was to find both of them fast asleep in their chairs, with the empty brandy decanter between them. Clucking with dismay, Effy summoned the servants to help her get both somnolent drunks to bed.

Monsieur Duclos wondered whether to inform Miss Effy Tribble that she would never master his language. Effy had not been taught French in her youth, and it looked as if she would never be taught now. But most of the ladies he instructed murdered his language. All they really wanted were a few phrases with which to lard their conversation, as was the fashion. He liked the Tribbles and did not want to cheat them in any way, but they paid well and he needed the money. Also, there was one of his countrywomen in the house, Yvette, the dressmaker. She had entered the room once when Effy was having her lesson, carrying a roll of silk to ask Effy’s opinion on the colour. Monsieur Duclos had addressed her in French, starting to ask her questions, but before she could reply, Effy had dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

The French teacher now often wondered where the seamstress had her room and whether she was ever allowed any time off. He took to haunting Holles Street in his free time, but never once did he see Yvette leave the house. He tried to befriend the servants in the hope of finding one willing to carry a message, but the servants distrusted him because he was French and shied away from him.