Putting on Airs (3 page)

     
"Second, is purity.  You have been—again, to my limits of understanding—pure and undefiled, unless there is anything you have not yet admitted to..."

     
"How dare you!" Imogene cried.  "You have no right to suppose—"

     
"I did not accuse you of anything, Ms. Cartwright.  Why are you so anxious, as if I have accused you?"

     
"It was the tone in which you said it; it was most offensive!"

     
"I was merely suggesting that I do not know the whole of your history.  Now, may I continue?"

     
Imogene remained silent, her eyes refusing to meet Mrs. Barton's. 

     
"The third and fourth virtues are my greatest concern: I have yet to see any humility or domestic quality in you, Ms. Cartwright.  Such a display as you just now created proves to me that you desperately need lessons in those virtues.  But I will begin with humility, for you can only begin the lessons of domestic quality once you have learned to be humble."  Mrs. Barton was silent for a moment, trying to think of how to go about teaching Imogene such lessons.  "Here is your first lesson: For the rest of the day today, you may not speak, except to answer ‘yes' or ‘no', or to escape rudeness by ignoring.  Should you speak out of these boundaries, this lesson shall continue tomorrow, and as long as it takes." Imogene gaped at such a request.  For fear of her protestations, Mrs. Barton added, "This is only the first step, so the sooner you learn it, the sooner you may progress.  Do you understand?"

     
"Yes," Imogene sighed.

     
"Good.  I think Mr. Campbell will be quite pleased.  I will be monitoring your progress through the day, then."

     
Imogene was unexpressively grateful when her sister walked into the room:  "I am sorry for interrupting, but Mr. Butler and I were going to go for a walk across the estate, and were wondering if you would like to join us."

     
"Yes," Imogene replied, joining her sister immediately.

     
"Mr. Campbell would like some exercise too, I imagine," Mrs. Barton suggested.

     
"Oh..." Emmeline looked to her sister, waiting for her to make an excuse, but nothing came.  "I will be sure to invite him along with us."

     
"And would you mind if I joined you as well?"

     
Again, Emmeline turned to her sister with no results.  "No, of course you may join us."  As they left the room to group everyone together, Imogene clutched her sister's hand, pleading for her not to leave her alone with Mr. Campbell or Mrs. Barton.

     
"Dark skin is a very unattractive thing, madam."

     
"I will fetch a parasol for her, sir," Mrs. Barton suggested.

     
"Thank you, Mrs. Barton."

     
As soon as Mrs. Barton was gone, Imogene thought to take the opportunity to rebut her cousin.  But if she went too far, he would certainly tell it all to Mrs. Barton, then she would find out anyway.  Although, if she made a remark that was not so brazen, maybe she would be safe to speak up.  "My sister has no parasol," she finally remarked.

     
"She does not stay outside as long as you often do.  She hardly resembles you as a sister."

     
"Tell me, sir, if we are married, will I be allowed to go outside, or will I be detained indoors?"  There was hint of sarcasm in her tone, but Mr. Campbell did not hear it.

     
"Not too often, but a brief, shaded walk once every day is refreshing exercise."

     
"The air inside does get rather stale after sitting in there for hours balancing accounts."

     
"Yes, it does.  But you will not have to worry about those money matters; that will be my responsibility."

     
"No, indeed.  I will be sitting in the drawing room reading the Bible with the curtains drawn."

     
"Reading to the children, yes."

     
Imogene halted rigidly in her tracks, feeling instantly ill.  She had always known about marrying Mr. Campbell, but had never come to realize that marrying him also meant having children with him.  She was not even sure how she felt about having children at all, much less having them with him.  Not that it mattered how she felt about it, anyway.  Her duty as a wife to anyone would be to produce an heir.

     
Mr. Campbell noticed her sudden shock and turned to her.  "What is the matter?"

     
Imogene put her hand to her head, trying to still the dizziness she felt.  "I am not feeling well."

     
"It must be the sun.  Here comes Mrs. Barton with the parasol."  Taking the parasol from Mrs. Barton, he opened it and held it to shade Imogene.  "Perhaps we should head back.  It is nearly time for luncheon, anyway."

     
Mr. Butler heard their conversation and intervened.  "Miss Emmeline and I were thinking of going into town for lunch.  We would be happy if you all joined us."

     
"Certainly.  That is, if Imogene feels well enough."

     
"Yes," Imogene absent-mindedly answered.

     
"Mrs. Barton, would you be so kind as to send for a carriage?"

     
"Of course, sir." Once again, Mrs. Barton was gone.  But Imogene was in no humor to even think of rebutting her cousin—not in humor to think of her cousin at all.  She was completely silent all through the carriage ride and halfway through lunch.  She was hardly even listening—all words were just soft, buzzing sounds in her ears as she heavy-heartedly imagined her life married to Mr. Campbell. 

     
Her thoughts were interrupted when her sister leaned closer to her to whisper, "Look, Imogene!" 

     
Following her sister's eyes, Imogene was surprised to see Mr. Archer and Clarice dining at a table not far from their own.  She was tempted to invite them over to their table in an attempt to resolve the differences between their acquaintances, but the dark look she received when he caught her staring made her think the better of it.

     
"Were you told of it, Imogene?"  Mr. Butler's voice brought Imogene's attention back to their own table.

     
"Pardon?" she asked.

     
"The ball."

     
"Oh, no."

     
"Your father and mother are throwing a ball tomorrow night to welcome the new neighbors."

     
Imogene was instantly suspicious; her parents would never throw a ball.  Her mother would especially not think of it while her children's suitors were visiting.  There had to be a scheme in it.  Just then, Mr. Archer and Clarice rose and began toward the door, passing by their table.  Imogene decided to speak up, "Good evening, Mr. Archer, Ms. Archer."

     
With stiff cordiality, Mr. Archer stopped to return the salutations.  Clarice did as well, with a polite smile, then they both left.

     
"Were they invited to the ball?" Emmeline asked quietly, embarrassed to ask but curious to know.

     
"I think I may safely say they were not," Mr. Campbell replied, "not after their last visit.  The breach of betrothal is being settled today; they would not be wanted at the ball."

     
Imogene opened her mouth to speak, but remained silent after a reminding glance from Mrs. Barton.

     
"This ball is a very important part of your lessons," Mrs. Barton told Imogene that night as she was choosing the right gown.  "Remember: piety, purity, and humility.  You did well today, and as tomorrow is the ball, you will be free to speak as you please, but with good judgment.  In conversation, keep to the subject, and only speak if spoken to.  Also, be sure to..."

     
Her words were soon ignored as Imogene stared out the window at the moon, thinking again about the betrothal that trapped her future behind iron bars.  There was only one way to break the betrothal, and that was a mutual agreement to do so.  Therefore, she had to do everything in her power to persuade Mr. Campbell that the betrothal was a grievous mistake, and the ball would be a perfect opportunity.

     
"Thank you, sir."

     
"Are you looking forward to it?"

     
"Yes, sir."

     
"Good." In an attempt to bring in more conversation, he changed the subject; "I heard the breach of betrothal is settled for your brother."

     
"It is."

     
"It is fortunate that it was settled so quickly.  He may meet someone at the ball."

     
"I dare say he shall."

     
To her relief, that was their only conversation together all day, as Mr. Campbell seemed to busy himself with ball preparations.

     
That evening, Imogene playfully suggested to Mrs. Barton that she allow her servant to help dress her for the ball.  It had been Mrs. Barton's duty thus far, but Imogene expressed a wish to surprise her governess.  Delighted, Mrs. Barton allowed Imogene to have her way.  Imogene bid the servant to take it a bit slowly so that she would arrive in the ballroom after about half the guests had arrived—she wanted to make an impression.  When she did finally enter the ballroom, her mother and governess were aghast to see red-haired Imogene wearing the ruby red ball gown.  She smiled in triumph, glad that she managed to hide the gown away before Mrs. Barton had the chance to dispose of it.  Unfortunate to her scheme, however, Mr. Campbell offered his arm with a smile and remarked that she looked quite well.  Stunned that her gown did not produce the desired effect upon him, she accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her to the punch bowl. 

     
As she sipped her punch—making sure to slurp a great deal—she looked around the room for anyone of particular interest.  Her brother had already made his way into a company of young women, all giggling flirtatiously at his ridiculous remarks and compliments.  Her sister was obliging the requests of the crowd by plucking fine strains of music on the harp as only angels knew how, and Mr. Butler stood enchanted by her side.

     
"Your sister is exceptionally accomplished with music," Mr. Campbell observed in an uncharacteristically impressed tone.

     
"She is indeed," Imogene replied, beaming proudly at her sister.

     
"Do you play any instrument?"

     
"I have been instructed in the violin."

     
"The violin?  Then you must play for everyone."

     
"If you insist, then of course I shall."

     
As soon as Emmeline finished her song, Mr. Campbell publicly expressed his desire to hear Imogene play her violin, and her excellent reputation with the instrument led all the other guests to encourage her.  Taking the violin from its case, Imogene was struck nervous.  She dreaded what she was about to do, but was convinced it was necessary.  She placed the violin under her chin and firmly gripped the bow like a sword hilt.  Whispering an apology to her dear stringed companion, she pressed the bow down hard against the strings, winced, and began to play.  Sour notes and piercing scratches silenced all chatter in the room as, grimacing, everyone stared in surprise at Imogene.  Emmeline and Mr. Cartwright frowned with concern; Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Barton gasped in horror; and Anthony laughed openly at his sister with his new female friends.  Imogene closed her eyes to it all and bit her lip, praying for the one reaction she was aiming for.  After putting away her violin, the silence was devastating, and she immediately implored for her sister to play again, which she did without question.