Perdita

by Joan Smith

  "It is truly astonishing to me that a gentleman born into a noble family, with all the advantages of education, wealth, and perhaps even a little of native intelligence, should waste his time in such a degrad­ing fashion. Can you find nothing better to do with your time and money than to squander them on the pursuit of fallen women?”

  "I have several equally worthy avocations. I gam­ble, race horses, box, drive up to the bit, dance quite superbly. I shall give you a sample of the last named this evening, if the occasion should arise.”

  "I shall take very good care that it does not.”

  "C'est à vous. I speak French too. I must give April lessons.”

  "I wish you luck of that endeavor.”

  "What, have you tried?” He set his head back and laughed loud enough that the other heads at the table turned towards us. "Good God, I would like to have seen it; the one-eyed leading the blind. As you are so ambitious for her, you ought really to wel­come me, you know. I mean to turn her out in the first style.”

  "No milord, in the Stornaway style, which I am convinced is well removed from the first style of anything but dissipation.”

  "I am not a pervert after all! You won’t do better for her than me. I am quite an adept at pleasing a woman. I am not hard to get along with, am gener­ous and considerate.”

  "A pattern-card of polite behavior. You are ready to do everything for a girl but marry her. Excuse me, for some unaccountable reason, I have lost my appe­tite, but it would not do to suggest you have turned my stomach, milord.”

  He arose and helped me from my chair. There was a self-conscious, almost an embarrassed look on his face. "I don’t need any help,” I said curtly.

  “You are singularly able to handle your tongue certainly, but a lady usually accepts assistance in managing her chair. A tip for you, Molly.”

  I glared hard at him, then strode upstairs to awaken Perdita.

  When I went to her room, she was gone. The bed was unmade, had been slept in. Her evening gown was thrown over the dresser. Her pelisse and reti­cule were missing. She had left, sneaked out. There had been no response when I knocked on her door before going downstairs. Thinking she slept, and that asleep in her bed was the least troublesome place for her, I had not entered. She had not come down while I was at the table. She must have been gone already when I knocked, close to three-quarters of an hour before. I felt a tide of panic well up in me. John—I must see John!

  My hope was that he had not yet gone to the stable with Millie. I encountered Mrs. Grifford in the hall belowstairs. “I don’t suppose you have seen Miss Brodie?” I asked, trying to keep the excitement from my voice.

  “To be sure I saw her before the gentlemen came to pick her up,” she answered in a tone of sweet reason.

  “Gentlemen?” I trembled inwardly at the awful plural sound of it. How many gentlemen had she set up an assignation with?

  “The Manners fellows, Lou and Bob. They are taking her for a spin into the village, Miss Green­wood. You cannot mean she has not your permis­sion? Had I thought it for a moment, I would have had you called.”

  I hardly knew what reply to make. It was a ques­tion of my looking careless, or Perdita dreadfully forward and sly.

  My temper was not assuaged in the least when Stornaway, finished with breakfast, came into the hallway. “Yes, of course I knew she was going, but I did not know exactly what the destination was.”

  “I wager it is Miss Brodie whose destination you are discussing,” he said, strolling up to us, with a conning smile levelled on Mrs. Grifford.

  “It happens it is,” she smiled uneasily, not accus­tomed to having a rakish lord underfoot, but not quite disliking it, either, I think. “No harm can come to her in the village, and the Manners lads are not likely to misbehave. They are only foolish; there is no vice in them. Millicent has driven out with one or the other of them countless numbers of times.”

  “Has John left yet?” I asked her, wondering if I could induce him to bring her back. Two foolish young men and one lady totally lacking in propriety might well fall into a muddle, even without any vice being involved.

  “Why, Miss Greenwood, you must know I am very happy to put my carriage at your disposal,” Stornaway offered at once.

  “John and Millicent left fifteen minutes ago,” she told me, with utter contentment of the fact. “Kind of you to offer your carriage, Lord Stornaway. I cannot think it necessary, but if you want to go after her, Miss Greenwood, there is your answer.”

  I was obliged to thank him, for the looks of it, though I had a fair idea his carriage did not come without its owner, and going with him was not a part of my plan.

  “You are correct. There is no need to go after her. She will be back in an hour,” I said firmly.

  “I hope you were comfortable last night, Lord Stornaway. May we look forward to the pleasure of your remaining with us a few days?” the hostess said, with an ingratiating smile.

  "You are too kind, ma’am. I shall impose on your generosity one day more, if I may? My carriage is repaired, but the company so delightful I am in no hurry to leave.”

  I went up to my room, to return downstairs by the servants’ staircase. I asked a servant to have Mr. Alton’s curricle brought round to the front for me. I had never handled a team of high steppers in my life. The family gig, with one sluggish nag, was the extent of my experience as a whip, unless I ought to include my experience with Ginger.

  When I went out to the front, the curricle was awaiting me. The groom aided my ascent, handed me the ribbons, and I was off. The famous bays set a fast pace. I always assumed John exaggerated a good deal when he spoke of sixteen miles an hour. From the passenger’s seat, it seemed like ten or twelve at the most. I expect it was holding the ribbons that led him astray. The speed was strangely accelerated when it was myself who was expected to lead them. The village, I knew, lay about two miles to the east, but my inexpert yanking at the reins set the animals off in the opposite direction. By drawing hard, I finally got them to stop, but had not a single notion what sign would get them turned around. In desperation, I clambered down from my perch and went to their heads, to try to talk them around.

  When I heard horse hooves behind me, I looked in hopes of a rescuer, but what I saw was Lord Stornaway sitting in a racy curricle of his own, wearing a grin that split his face from ear to ear. He had a tiger behind him. He tossed his reins to this boy, before jumping down to assist me. "Out for a pleasure spin, I assume, Molly? I had a strong feeling you would want air.”

  “That’s it, just taking the morning breezes.”

  "The team are mulish, are they not? Do you think it possible they don’t speak English? It is perfectly clear you will not make the village without crippling Alton’s team. Much as I dislike the fellow, I could not wish such a fate on him, knowing what an inordinate sum he paid for them. Hop into my rig. I’ll take you, while my tiger returns Alton’s cart to the stable. I am going to beat you there, in any case. Would you not prefer to be with me when I abduct her?”

  The face I turned on him must have revealed my terrified feelings. “Don’t worry. I do not mean to endanger my own reputation by doing anything so foolish. It will be arranged much more discreetly than by kidnapping. Come along.”

  A rapid survey of my options inclined me to accept his offer. Certainly he would get there before me, if I ever got there at all, which seemed unlikely, with the team heading in the other direction. I reluc­tantly climbed into his curricle, while his tiger took control of John’s.

  “You know, horses are a little like men, Molly,” Stornaway began, in an avuncular tone, as we darted towards the village.

  “I notice the resemblance,” I said, staring fixedly at the horses’ posteriors as we progressed.

  When he made no reply, I risked a glance at him. He was chewing a smile, trying not to betray any amusement. When his eyes met mine, he gave up chewing and laughed aloud. “Score one for you. What I was about to say was that they are more biddable
to reasonable commands than blind force.”

  “Alton’s pair were about as biddable to reason as you are. I have exhausted argument. What have you in mind?”

  “Consider the carrot, versus the stick. You use only the latter. You have double-crossed me, and had the temerity to lecture me on morals into the bargain. Now isn’t it time we got down to sweet reason? Let me describe my carrot.”

  “Describe away. I am listening.”

  “My offer is generous. Your refusing it can only mean you hope for a better one. Why don’t you just tell me what your price is, and we can bargain from there.”

  “That is where reason breaks down, sir. She is not for sale, at any price. This is not a piece of merchan­dise we are discussing, but a human being.”

  “I see."

  I looked hopefully to see if he did indeed under­stand, or was only devising some other scheme. "Already sold her to someone else?” he asked bluntly.

  “This talk is pointless. If you will let me down in the village, I shall join Perdita and her friends.”

  “She is not averse to my offers, you know.”

  “She must misunderstand them.”

  “I never mentioned the word marriage.”

  “There are girls, of a type probably unfamiliar to you, to whom the word love implies marriage.”

  “Not sure I mentioned love, either. But you are mistaken about my unfamiliarity with that type. They are tediously familiar to me.”

  “You would find any hint that you do the right thing tedious, of course,” I said, in a dismissing way.

  We continued in silence till the village was reached, traversed its length, both looking about for a sign of her. She was not at all difficult to spot. She saun­tered down the street between the two bucks picked up the night before, with an ice cone in her fingers, and a kitten tucked into the crook of the other elbow.

  “Please draw up here,” I asked in a cold but respectful tone.

  I was surprised that he obliged me without a word. I hopped down, thanked him, and joined my charge. “See the sweet little kitten Lou gave me,” she said, holding it out in one hand, with its feet stroking the empty air. I believe one of its claws must have scratched her. She emitted an unlady-like squeal, and dropped it. I picked it up, and suggested we go home.

  “We just got here,” she pointed out.

  “Where were you before you came here? You left the house hours ago."

  “We stopped at a farm to pick up the kitten. I call him Lou, after my friend,” she informed me, with a shameless batting of her lashes at Mr. Manners, who smiled fondly. “And Bob is going to get me a puppy,” she added, ladling out a smile to her other adorer.

  "This is not the time to be picking up a menagerie, Perdita, when we are not quite settled down.”

  "I miss all my pets at home so. We should have brought some kittens with us.”

  “Would you please take us home now?” I asked the elder and saner-appearing of the Manners fellows, the one called Bob.

  “Where is Stornaway going?” she asked.

  “Back to Bromley Hall, I suppose.”

  “What, and did he offer to take you out for a drive? Was he not coming here to see me?”

  “He brought me here to collect you,” I said in a damping way.

  “He might have got down and said good morning. I think you are trying to steal him from me.”

  “You think wrongly. Come along.”

  “My bonnet. My new bonnet. I cannot leave with­out it.”

  “Where did you get the money to buy a bonnet?”

  “Bob had to lend me a little. After I told the woman I would take it, I learned I had not quite enough money, but John will pay him. It is only a crown. Would you mind picking it up at the milliner’s for me, Bob?”

  Bob, with a leery glance at his brother, darted across the street to pick up the bonnet, and soon rejoined us. As the outing was thoroughly ruined with my harping presence, the three agreed to re­turn home very shortly afterwards. The boys let us off at the main entrance. There was a group of young guests playing croquet on the lawn, with another bunch watching them. They made a charming scene, the ladies’ colorful gowns appearing like huge flow­ers against the green of the lawn. I was momentarily entranced with it, till a thorn sprang into view, amidst the flowers. Stornaway was there, advancing towards us.

  "Mission accomplished?” he asked. "I made sure it was safe to leave the matter in your capable hands, Molly. I see you have been shopping, April. What did I buy? And here you swore the money was all gone,” he said, wagging a finger at me.

  “I bought a bonnet,” Perdita told him. "And the money is all gone. I had to borrow from Bob Manners, but John will pay him back. Would you like to see it?” She handed the kitten to me, took the box, and began untying ribbons, there in the open air, in front of a gathering group. Groups of males tend to gather rather quickly when Perdita appears.

  “Later,” I said, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her into the house.

  “We would all adore to see the bonnet!” Stornaway insisted, egging her on.

  “It is very dashing. All the crack, like the one Phoebe wore, Moira, with three ostrich plumes, only mine are white.”

  “I was hoping for red!” Stornaway said, feigning chagrin. “She could not do better than to take Phoebe for a model,” he added aside to me, with a hateful grin.

  I finally got her away, lecturing her at the top of my bent while she posed in front of the mirror, in the most outrageous bonnet ever seen outside of Tuck’s Traveling Theater. The kitten leapt to the bed and began clawing at the counterpane, obliging me to hold it, to save Mrs. Grifford’s bedding. Perdita’s love of animals did not extend to offering them any care. It was I who had to go to the kitchen begging a saucer of milk, and take Lou outdoors before luncheon. I heartily wished it would find its way back to the farm from whence it had come.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  When it was time for the picnic, Perdita remem­bered Lou, the feline Lou, and made a great show of having everyone look for it. "You have lost him, Moira! How could you be so cruel, thrusting a poor little kitten outdoors alone?”

  "I lost my head,” I told her, angry sparks shooting from my eyes, or so I imagined.

  Really the girl was becoming impossible. Every foolish gentleman of the party began running around, looking behind bushes and under the verandah for the animal, while Millicent stood with a patient smile, as Perdita took John’s hand and led him around to the stable to look. When they had found it and returned, Perdita, with her pet in her arm, walked rather quickly towards John’s curricle, de­spite the fact that she and everyone else knew he had arranged to drive Millicent. The only smile on the lawn was Tony Hall’s. Stornaway was there, watching her performance, with an expression that resembled a gathering sneer.

  "You might offer her a drive in your rig, as you are always so eager for her company,” I said sharply to him.

  "I was hoping for the pleasure of driving you, Molly,” he replied, still in his sneering way. He walked forward to invite her, however. “Now I am assured of your company,” he said.

  “I will be happy to join you. And you will hold that curst kitten yourself, Perdita.”

  “Isn’t she mean, Lord Stornaway? How could any­one find my little Lou-lou a curst kitten? Moira has no way with animals.”

  “I know she has no love of horses,” he agreed.

  As Stornaway was looking more at me than her­self, Perdita set up a pantomime for his benefit. The kitten was held up, its nose touching her own, while she gurgled and coo’d of her affection for the crea­ture. When she had his attention, she handed it to me, but I steadfastly refused to have my gown de­stroyed by its claws, and handed it back to her.

  The only pleasure of the trip was that the kitten put several snags in Stornaway’s jacket before we reached the seaside. Our entertainment during the drive was to hear every vulgarity my charge had learned since our leaving home, including some choice
stable terms picked up from the Manners boys.

  “What a bang-up fiddler you are, Stornaway. 1 mean to set up a high perch phaeton one of these days, after I am settled. I would like snow-white prads.”

  “It might be arranged,” he said leadingly. “Mind you, they are shockingly expensive. You would have to be a very good girl to earn such a rig.”

  “He is only teasing,” she assured me. “Stornaway knows very well I am floating in grease. I told him last night Papa is very well inlaid, for I think this joke has gone far enough, don’t you?”

  “Too far.”

  “I told him I am the greatest heiress in Wiltshire,” she told me, in no quiet aside, “for I thought that would let him know I am not to be trifled with. I am no giggle and squeeze lightskirt, like Phoebe and the others.”

  “Nothing like them,” he said, patting her knee, and winking at me. “You are much better, April.” When his hand remained on her knee, I lifted it and set it aside, which was not easy, as I was on the outside of the curricle.

  “Well I am! I am completely innocent, ain’t I, Moira?”

  “White as the driven snow,” I corroborated, but this excess of protestations was surely confirming him of the contrary.

  “I never met one yet who wasn’t, under her sev­eral layers of soot,” he said.

  She playfully pushed Lou at him. The animal obliged her by making a sharp claw at his hands. That was how the drive went. I would make every endeavor to return home by some other carriage. Possibly Mr. Leveson might be smiled into offering us a lift.

  I set myself to the task of attaching Mr. Leveson as soon as I picked him out amidst the throng already assembled at the beach. Before long, I learned he had come alone in his carriage that would hold four. It was my intention for it to carry three on the return trip.

  The seaside was a new experience for Perdita. She had to patrol its border, trotting along at the point where the waves were breaking on the shingle beach, with a squeal and a dash farther inland at each new breaker. Stornaway was not so eager for her com­pany that he added himself to the group of two girls and five gentlemen participating in this game. Nei­ther was Lou-lou. It was I who had the chore of guarding the kitten.