Feral Park (31 page)

“But Gemma, what I do not understand is why Aunt Quarrels should
not
want Nancy to be married and out from under the roof of Moseley Manor.

Should it not be in her best interest to see
each
of the Misses Henshawe happily wed and blissfully spirited away and out of her hair?”

“One may think so, yet Aunt Quarrels is an odious and evil woman whom I suspect delights in maintaining the Misses Henshawe and their mother under the subjugation of her tyranny. She may also say to those without knowledge of the truth of their situation that she is doing a very good thing by keeping her nieces and sister-in-law from the clutches of impoverishment and la, how commendable! Such a noble and charitable heart! There is also the matter of the revolting monkey parlour. Our cousin Charles, as I have learnt from Bella, wears a most insidious grin upon his face as he gathers Sophia into the carriage each fortnight to take her to London so that she may do her dance before the ogling men in Gracechurch Street. Sophia has told her that the men slap him upon the back and praise his contribution to the evening’s merriment, and he is proud as punch to be the pimp whiskin of the night. He would be prouder still, Bella and I believe, if he owned his own parlour—or at least a goodly part of one, and especially one that was close at hand.”

“Oh, perish
that
thought!” exclaimed Anna in reply, and with a cringe of the shoulders. “Is there reason to believe that he may wish to build one
here
? In Payton Parish?”

“He
does
wish it. Bella overheard it said.”

“And that which lucky Mr. Quarrels wishes—however odious—has a terrible way of coming true. What, by-the-bye, is a ‘pimp whiskin’?” “It is a low-life word for one who procures women for illicit purposes. Whiskin means the top man at the pimping vocation.”

“It is a true repugnance!”

“To be sure. And within a short time—or have you forgotten?—our cousin Eliza will be forced to join her sister upon the stage.”

“Abominable! Abominable! But at least Nancy should never be asked. And
if
Nancy is not needed to wear the monkey fur, then why should she not be allowed by her cousin Charles, at least, to be gone permanently from the house?”

“I do not know, but he must have his own reason for her confinement as well, for he is in total agreement with his mother (and our aunt) that it is better to keep the Misses Henshawe—
all
of the Misses Henshawe—within Moseley Manor and under the Quarrels’ despotic rule than suffer them even one ounce of freedom.”

“It is horrible, Gemma, and something
will
be done about it, mark my word!”

“With regard to our Aunt Quarrels, I think that there is also something else which reeks from the mephitic brew which she and her son have concocted for all to drink: it is the way that she has treated our mother—with such despicable contempt! She is a punishing woman, who derives dark pleasure from hurting those who are most undeserving of such treatment. And I
do
include our mother, Anna, for I have forgiven her for what was done years ago, just as she has forgiven herself and corrected her path.”

“So how shall we succour poor Nancy? What is the scheme that we should present to Mr. Nevers to effect a rendezvous for the two lovers during services on Sunday?”

“I do not know of one myself, but you are very good, Anna, at coming up with such things under your own enginery. My, but I feel warm inside. And the colours within the room—I have never before known them to be so strong and bright.”

“I have made this note to myself as well. Perhaps the room has been cleant recently and all the dust removed. Yet the colours are truer
all
about. Your eyes, for example, are much bluer than their usual shade, Gemma. Perhaps it is the light which sweeps into the room, casting every thing in better tint than that to which we are generally accustomed.”

“But have not my eyes always been striking in their blue look?” asked Gemma with a hint of injury.

“They have always been
very
blue, Gemma, and the one who fashioned the false eye was quite successful in matching the shade of the faux globe to that of the real one. You have beautiful eyes, Gemma, whatever be their composition. In fact, their present azure hue reminds me of the lapis lazuli of the afternoon sky, and this leads me to the perfect means by which we shall bring the lieutenant and our Miss Henshawe together on Sunday!” Gemma clapped her hands together in eager anticipation to hear what would follow.

“And it will be a capital idea, I am most certain! You amaze me, Anna, by coming up with things so quickly. I should have gone away and thought and thought and finally devised something which would have, even after all of that concerted deliberation, fallen short of the goal.” Anna raised her finger in caveat. “Now I cannot guarantee that the plan will work, Gemma, but I do fancy the machinery of it as it comes together now fully within my head. Here is what I have: one of us or the both should go to the vicarage and sit down with the vicar and propose that, this being so beautiful and perfect a season for an outdoor service, Sunday’s should be held not within the church but outside in the parterre garden behind that sacred structure. From there one may commune with God and nature all of a piece! Is there anyone, Gemma, who does not feel closer to our Maker when we are in the midst of the natural wonders of His hand?”

“None that I can think of,” said Gemma, her natural eye opening large and her mouth held agape to hear what Anna would say next.

“And how very often have we all wanted to go outdoors to sing the Lord’s praises under His azure sky—an azure as strikingly blue as that of your own eyes!”

“Quite often! Quite often! And thank you for the repeated compliment upon my eyes. Your eyes are lovely too, Anna. They are a shade of brown with flecks of emerald and gold that season and enhance. They are quite becoming, if one were to take the time to look deeply into them.”

“Thank you, Gemma. See—we may get along royally when we allow ourselves.”

“And it has nothing to do with the absinthe having expanded our generous natures.”

“Nothing whatsoever. Now here comes the pinnacle of our plan: whilst we are all sitting outside, some in pews and folding chairs which we will have had to move out-of-doors (for depend on it, the older worshippers will not sit easily upon the grass), the Misses Henshawe will take their places in the back, near to the shrubbery or a tree or some such limbed thing of nature that may allow for the slipping away of Miss Henshawe, who shall tell her aunt that she must take a wee.”

“Take a wee—yes, yes?”

“For the lieutenant will have slipped off earlier and will be waiting for his sweetheart to join him at some appointed trysting place nearby!” “Because she will
not
, in actuality, be weeing in this place but seeing her lover there!”

With a nod: “And in those precious private moments together Lieutenant Alford will finally win the opportunity to tell his beloved Miss Henshawe exactly what is in his heart, and she will digest it all and hopefully will not transform herself through mortification into a blathering fool.” “Perhaps she will only blather for a moment or two until she gets a good hold upon herself.”

Anna nodded in agreement. “And a confession of affection has been known to snap even the greatest of gabblers to a state of strict attention.” “I have heard that as well!” proclaimed Gemma, with enthusiasm. “Oh, Anna, it is a truly wonderful scheme as I knew that it would be. The only problem exists in getting the vicar to consent to moving his service out-ofdoors, for he has done this only once before and it rained and everyone was made wet and disagreeable, and the following Sunday tithes were down, and he made a vow that he should never do it again.”

“But Mr. Nevers
will
do it, I am most certain, and especially if we are to tell him its true purpose. Ten to one he will do it if for no other reason than that he is most taken with the Alford brothers himself and if circumstances allowed it, he would sit all three of these handsome young men upon the very front pew and direct his pulpit gaze to them and them alone for the entire hour.” “Then mend the foot and mend it quickly!” said Gemma, rising to stand.

Kicking her stiff wooden leg to get the hinges loosened, she continued, “One of us must go to the vicarage and discuss the matter with Mr. Nevers in time to prepare for Sunday’s service, and I would prefer that it be you.”

Anna shook her head and grinned. “We need not go to the vicar, silly girl! For I have just remembered that the vicar will come to
us
on Friday for dinner. Have you not forgotten, Gemma, that you are dining here with my father and me,
and
the vicar,
and
Mr. Waitwaithe
and
Mr. Groves
and
my aunt and her timid companion Miss Pints?”

“I had forgotten it momentarily, but you must acquit me, for it was the green drink that was responsible,” said Gemma.

“As luck would have it, the evening once again has purpose.” “Because its former purpose—the fixing of Mr. Waitwaithe—is no more? But I believe that you are wrong here, Anna.” Gemma smiled. It was a secret, private smile.

“Wrong? You have lost me, Gemma, and your Cheshire cat grin has no purpose that I can discern other than irrelevant whimsy.”

“Here is the thing of it, Anna: who has the key to your father’s library cabinet besides your father himself?”

“Well, I should think that
someone
must possess a duplicate key. If, God forbid, Papa were to die to-morrow, it would be necessary to settle matters pertaining to his estate, and so all of his papers here in Feral Park would have to be retrieved and consulted.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Although surely the most important of them would already be in the hands of his solicitor Mr. Scourby for safe keeping, would they not?” Gemma shook her head. “I should think there would be things that he would not wish his solicitor to see until after his death—things, as well, that he would not trust to one whose offices sit open to public traffic.”

“But if there are papers upon which Mr. Scourby would need to lay his hands after my papa’s demise, he would naturally require a key to that library cabinet,and if I am to understand you,Gemma,that key would reside somewhere within his offices, and perhaps Mr. Waitwaithe may know exactly where it is.” Gemma nodded, the grin still in evidence.

“Notwithstanding the fact that the most
logical
candidate for keeping such a duplicate key should be the loving and loyal daughter—the very same daughter who is nearly two and twenty years old, and as a sensible and thinking adult would make the best custodian of all of the cabinet’s secrets. Again I must scratch my head over my father’s motives in protecting me from things he feels I should not know until after he has left this Earth altogether.”

“But
that
, dear sister, is a matter that at present has no bearing on the situation at hand.”

Anna nodded. Then she said, “But about one thing, my sister, I remain confused.”

“Yes, and what is that?”

“You have admitted on more than one occasion that you already know the one thing that I am most desirous of knowing. And yet you do not tell me. Why, therefore, are you so eager to assist me in acquiring the intelligence in some other way?”

“Because I
want
you to know, Anna. I want very much for you to know the other thing which our repugnant aunt and cousin, when cornered, should use against you and your father. It is your right. But I have made a solemn promise to our mother never to tell you, and so I shall not. I
must
not, and this I have already said. What I
have not
said, however, is that there is another piece to this rather large puzzle which I have
not
been able to acquire, and that is the other thing, which is known to only a very select few—the thing which would put Aunt Quarrels in a very bad light. It lurks out there—the awful truth of it. Mamma says that she knows it, and your father, as well, but they would never tell, nay,
could
never tell, for it would be only an empty charge without proof, and without the proof which remains buried, no doubt, for ever, its disclosure will save no one. And so they keep their shared secret and cannot use it, and they dare not tell it to us for fear that we may
misuse
it. Aye, it is not a fair arrangement, dear sister, yet still an understandable one, for as much as we ache to know of it—to know of any thing that
we
may find of use to deliver the poor Misses Henshawe from their present state of misery—
our
mother and
your
father stand solidly in our path. But perhaps there is something
else
which we may discover to take ourselves out of stalemate with the Quarrels and win the day. We must keep looking, and we must keep looking in close and affectionate concert.”

Anna was so touched with emotion to hear what was just said by her loving sister that she reached out for her and lost her balance upon the divan and fell to the floor, where Gemma dropt down next to her and the two fell into each other’s arms, each fighting the tears of joyful sisterhood and then surrendering fully to them. Anna pulled herself back up upon the sofa and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “I will treat Mr. Waitwaithe most agreeably when he comes on Friday, and you will too, Gemma—with gracious civility and the utmost decorum, and we should each shew a little of our calves to entice the beast in him. (You will, of course, wish to limit your shewing to the real leg and not the wooden one.)”