Stung, he rasped, “Perhaps you like to have him ogle you."
The toe, of her boot caught him sharply in the ankle. “How dare you say such a thing?”
“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t mean that. But you are young and perhaps proud of your…womanhood, and there are few people to admire you.”
“That’s not admiration!” she exclaimed scornfully. "That's... and I never asked for a large bosom! I don’t like people to stare at me that way. It makes me feel wretched. Oh, go away, Cranford. You make me angry with your pious piddle.” She pulled her arm from his and swung away from him. Belatedly she said over her shoulder, “Thank you for intervening.”
“No, you don’t, young lady.” He grasped her hand firmly and headed for the house. “We are going to speak to your mother about this.”
“Why?” she asked unhappily. “You said he wouldn’t bother me again. There’s no reason to upset Mama.”
“There is every reason, Trelenny. Where are we likely to find her?”
“In the morning room.”
Mrs. Storwood looked up from the list she was making when the young people entered the room. Cranford’s grim expression and Trelenny’s reluctant one immediately alarmed her. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just came upon your daughter in the garden with Mr. Filkins, who was attempting to make improper advances.”
Although her face paled, Mrs. Storwood asked in a chilly voice, “I hope you are not suggesting that there was anything improper in Trelenny’s conduct.”
“No, of course not, but she is not worldly enough to know how to discourage such an old roué."
“He is undiscourageable,” Mrs. Storwood answered, to their mutual surprise. Trelenny flung herself into her mother’s open arms. “Forgive me, my love. I have been so distracted by him that I didn’t even notice your distress. I thought if he was so persistent with me... but, there, that is no excuse. Your father will have to be told. He did not harm you, did he?”
“No, Mama.”
“Thank God.” An agonized sigh escaped her. “This will be very upsetting for your Papa. We will have to make light of it as much as we can and still insist that Mr. Filkins be sent about his business.”
“Did he do this to you the last time he was here?” Trelenny asked.
“Well, yes, but he was not here for long then, though it seemed an eternity.” She looked up at Cranford. “Thank you for your help. I’ll see that matters are taken care of from here.”
“Could I propose a solution which might save embarrassment to you and anguish to your husband, Mrs. Storwood?”
“Certainly.”
“I gather that Mr. Filkins is financially embarrassed. No, Trelenny said nothing to me, ma’am. I have seen a score of Filkins’ type, and I fear it would only put Mr. Storwood in a more difficult position to have to send the blighter away, and at the same time provide him with money, which he would doubtless feel obligated to do. Why not leave him here with your husband and go away ourselves? I have been considering a journey to Bath, a stay of perhaps three or four weeks, and I would be happy to escort you there. After such an annoying experience I dare say you and Trelenny would welcome the change.”
“Go away? To Bath? But we have never been away.”
“Surely this is the ideal time. Mr. Storwood need know nothing about these incidents, and I think it a fitting punishment to Mr. Filkins to leave him here without his prey. He has promised a long stay; let him be useful while he serves his time. Can you convince Mr. Storwood not to give him enough money to leave?”
"I...I suppose so,” Mrs. Storwood said uncertainly.
“Of course you can, Mama,” Trelenny urged enthusiastically. “You have only to tell Papa that you think it will do Cousin Filkins good to rusticate and keep him company while we are gone. And our odious cousin might just receive a whisper from Cranford that no mention will be made if he stays here until we return. Then of course he is to leave immediately and never come back. Oh, I think it a splendid idea, Mama. May we go?”
A dozen considerations flitted through Mrs. Storwood’s mind: to spare her husband the upheaval such a disclosure would cause him; to avoid the unpleasant attentions of that disgusting man; to take her daughter out of his reach; yes, even to punish him for his horrid attentions to the two of them. And an opportunity to introduce Trelenny to just a taste of society. Perhaps then she would realize that Cranford was an unexceptionable match, that her exotic fantasies were merely a dream. “I think, my love, that we might. But, Cranford, I would hate to impose on you. I do have a friend in Bath just now, as it happens, but we would need your escort there and back.”
“There is no imposition, Mrs. Storwood. Shall we plan to leave in the morning?”
“Tomorrow morning?” asked the poor woman.
“The sooner the better, I think. I’ll just have a word with Mr. Filkins before I leave, with your permission."
“Yes, if you would. Can we be ready by tomorrow morning, Trelenny? What will your Papa say to such unseemly haste?”
“He will say that the sooner we leave, the sooner we shall return. I promise you I can have everything ready for the morning, Mama. You go speak with Papa and I’ll see Cranford out.” Trelenny smiled encouragement to her flustered parent, who rose to give her hand to Cranford before she hesitantly left the room.
When they were alone, Trelenny did not speak for a moment, could not even bring herself to look at him. “That was especially kind of you, Cranford. I ... I’m sure I can never repay you, but I shall try. You won’t mind going so very much, will you?”
“With all those antiquities to look forward to, how could I?” he asked ruefully.
“To be perfectly honest with you,” she said miserably, “I am not sure where they may be found. That is, I could find no information on who has them now.”
“Trust me, Trelenny. I shall find them.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I hope you may, Cranford, for I can see no other pleasure for you in Bath.”
“Can’t you? No, I suppose not. Never mind. I’ll come at ten tomorrow if you can be ready by then.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“Good. Now I’ll just have a word with Mr. Filkins.”
Relations between Cranford and his father had been cool, as might be expected, since the incident of the sidesaddle. No mention had been made of it, and the two men had frequently partaken of their meals together, when a desultory conversation ensued between them, but it was not the father’s habit to apologize for his mistakes nor the son’s to concern himself overmuch with being misunderstood. Lord Chessels had some stake in not antagonizing his son to the point where Cranford abandoned Ashwicke Park and his pursuit of Trelenny. For his part, Cranford had his own reasons for continuing his suit, and he was inured by past experience to his father’s uncontrolled temper.
When Cranford returned to Ashwicke Park he sought an interview with Lord Chessels, who was perusing the Shooting Directory in the Lower Saloon, his feet propped up on a stool whose embroidered cover Cranford could remember his mother patiently laboring over.
“I wanted to let you know that I will be leaving tomorrow for Bath. I—”
Lord Chessels flung the magazine from him. “Damn you! You haven’t made the least push to engage that girl’s affections! Now you’re wanting to run off and enjoy yourself at some mushroomy watering hole. Don’t think I’ll stand the blunt, my boy. Not a tuppence will you see from me.”
“Sir, I am escorting Mrs. and Miss Storwood there, and I had not the least intention of asking you for money. You should not let this raise your hopes as to a match, however, as Miss Storwood has in effect told me that she won’t have me. It is nonetheless an opportunity for us to become better acquainted, which may or may not prove beneficial.” Cranford stooped to pick up the magazine which lay at his feet, and straightened it out before handing it to his father.
Lord Chessels grunted. “You should take the traveling carriage. If you go post you’ll not have an opportunity to sit in the carriage with them now and again. It’s well sprung; I had it worked over not six months past.”
“I’ll be gone a month.”
“I won’t be needing it. Take it, and the coachman, too. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let the chit see anything of the world, mind you. You’d do better to keep her here, but I suppose they would go without you. Bath. Hmmm. Not likely to meet anyone interesting there. Place is filled with mushrooms and toad-eaters these days, not like it was when I first went there. Chits, the place is filled with them. At least it’s not London. You can be grateful for that.”
“I am.”
“Yes, well, take the carriage and see you make a push for the girl.”
“I will.”
“You’ll need to impress her. Make a bit of a splash. You can ask Jenkins for two hundred.”
“Thank you, sir, but I won’t need it. If you will excuse me, I must see to my packing.”
a Despite his curiosity as to how his son could afford such trip, Lord Chessels refused to ask. His parting shot was, “Don’t be boring them with your talk of ruins. Nobody’s interested and nothing is surer to make the chit look around for a livelier companion!”
As Mrs. Storwood had predicted, her husband was surprised by the haste with which his family intended to depart, but he was not averse to their going, especially when Mrs. Storwood exaggerated Cousin Filkins’ thoughtfulness in staying to keep him company. “For you know, James, he said practically the minute he arrived that it was a shame that Trelenny could not see a bit of society. Is it not fortuitous that he should be here just when Cranford is planning a trip to Bath? I think it would be wrong of us to pass up this opportunity, don’t you? Perhaps if Trelenny has the chance to see a bit of the world she will be more willing to settle down. It’s not that I don’t expect her to enjoy herself, you understand, but she will find that society is very restrictive and that marriage offers her more freedom than she expects. Shall we go, James? Will you be comfortable here with your cousin?”
“Of course you shall go. You know it is the bane of my life that my weakness keeps us here unendingly,” he said sadly.
“Oh, James, don’t be absurd. I have no desire to be anywhere but with you.” She touched his cheek with gentle fingers. “But Trelenny—it’s different for her. She feels that she’s missing something, that there is a better life to be had elsewhere. I’m afraid she has a restless spirit, which is not to say I think that is wrong, but very unfortunate in our circumstances. Oh, I shall miss you, my love.” She turned away to hide a trembling lip. “It frightens me a little, you know, after all these years to think of taking her to balls and parties. If it were not for Cranford escorting us, and Elsa Waplington being there...”
He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “Courage, my dear. I will only be happy knowing you are enjoying yourself.”
Mrs. Storwood forced a tremulous smile. “I shall get my pleasure through Trelenny. She’s so eager, so lively, so—”
“So incorrigible,” he murmured with a crooked grin. “She’ll be a handful, but I rely on Cranford to see she comes to no harm. He has never put his suit to the touch, has he?”
“No. Trelenny leads him a bit of a dance, James, and I cannot think he fully approves of her. This scheme may be his way of. . . oh, showing her how she should go on. You know I have tried.”
“We have all tried, my love, but I have a great deal of faith in Cranford. For all her whimsical flights and her offhanded treatment of him, Trelenny has a measure of trust in him, which is not a bad starting point for a successful marriage. No, no, I won’t say a word of the matter to her. You are quite right—pressure only makes her stubborn. Go and enjoy yourselves, and don’t worry about me. Cousin Filkins and I will do famously.”
So Mrs. Storwood had left to do her packing, her eyes moist and her throat aching, but with the knowledge that her husband need not suffer the agonies of hearing the truth about his despicable cousin. Trelenny was already in her mother’s bedchamber directing her maid to have a small trunk sent up.
“We shan’t want a great deal of luggage, Mama, for that would simply be a nuisance. Shall I help you choose what gowns to take?” Only when her mother came close did she notice the strangely sparkling eyes. “Oh, Mama, are you all right? If you don’t wish to go, then we won’t. I didn’t know it would make you sad.”
“Nonsense. I am just having my bout of homesickness before we leave, dearest. Your Papa is pleased for us, but I. . . I shall miss him dreadfully.”
“Of course you will. But it is only a month, not so very long after all. Why, he will hardly notice we’re gone, the time will pass so quickly. You do want to go, don’t you?”
“Yes. I want you to see Bath and go to parties and have a little come-out of your own. I want Mrs. Waplington to meet you, and I want to see you stand up at the Assemblies.”
Trelenny experienced a feeling of guilt. “And won’t you be happy to see Mrs. Waplington again, Mama? And you shall dance at the Rooms, too.”
“Silly girl. I’m far too old for such stuff.”
“You’re only eight and thirty!” her daughter protested. “I have every intention of cutting a dash at least until I’m forty. Papa would want you to dance, and I am sure all the older men will see that you are beautiful still. And I don’t care if you cast me into the shade! I don’t want to go if you’re not going to have a good time.”
Mrs. Storwood patted her cheek. “I have every intention of enjoying myself, Trelenny. Run along now and see to your own packing.”
“Do you think Papa would let me have my quarter’s allowance now? It’s only a few weeks early.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s arranging it at this very moment. Don’t forget to thank him for giving his permission when you go to see him, and don’t mention Cousin Filkins at all, or you are likely to say more than you intend.”
“Yes, Mama, and
thank
you.”
Trelenny carefully divided her money into two piles, slipping the smaller into her reticule and the rest into a leather draw-string pouch. From outside came the sounds of arrival, and she took one last hasty look about her bedchamber before closing the door behind her and hurrying down the stairs. Although Cousin Filkins stood in the hallway with her parents, she never gave him a thought as she came up to them, breathlessly exclaiming, “He’s here! I heard the carriage.”