by Gayle Buck
Mr. Hawkins looked down into Miss Dower’s lovely face, his gaze both searching and hopeful. “Miss Dower, I find you in pleasant surroundings, indeed. It is a fine day to be out of doors in all nature’s new splendor.”
Evelyn sniffed but did not deign to reply. At the last moment she had fled to the garden, preferring to receive Mr. Hawkins there rather than in the small parlor. She had thought she would burst with her seething emotions, and even though she had ignored the beauty of the garden, it had nevertheless provided a soothing balm to her exacerbated spirit.
After throwing her daughter an anxious glance, Mrs. Dower said hurriedly, “Yes, indeed! The garden is already giving promise of the fine flowering to come. I am sure the good reverend has mentioned to me a score of times his opinion that it is to be an excellent year for his roses.”
Mrs. Dower threw another glance at her daughter, taking particular note of the mutinous light smoldering in the girl’s eyes. It obviously would be for the best to have the matter done with as quickly as possible, and she rushed on. “But we shall not spend another moment idling on about gardening, if you please, Mr. Hawkins, for I know that you are anxious to speak to dearest Evelyn on a particular topic. I shall step aside for just a few moments to give you privacy.”
Mr. Hawkins looked faintly surprised and even a shade disapproving. “I am sure that is not at all necessary, Mrs. Dower. What I am come to say is most properly directed to Miss Dower in your presence.”
Evelyn lifted a delicate brow, murmuring, “Come, Mr. Hawkins. Surely I am not so intimidating a personage as that.”
Mrs. Dower uttered a soft murmur of distress.
Mr. Hawkins appeared taken aback. “Why, I had no such feelings at all, Miss Dower. Of course I would not think anything so disrespectful of one whom I hold in the most reverential regard.”
“Very prettily said, Mr. Hawkins,” said Mrs. Dower. Hidden from the gentleman in the folds of her skirt, she twitched her hand at her daughter.
Evelyn ignored her mother’s urgent signal, and with a bright, brittle smile, she said, “Mercy, Mr. Hawkins. I am overcome, indeed, at such an exquisite compliment.”
Mrs. Dower uncertainly eyed her daughter. All too readily she recognized the danger signals flying in her daughter’s manner, and her heart bled for the poor unsuspecting gentleman. She wavered in her intention to leave the young couple alone. “I suppose—perhaps I shall do better to speak to the gardener another time.”
“Pray do not put off your intention on my account, Mama,” said Evelyn cordially.
Mrs. Dower sighed in defeat. “You shall call to me when I am needed, Evelyn dearest.”
“Of course, Mama, though perhaps it will be Mr. Hawkins who shall feel in need of succor,” said Evelyn.
Mr. Hawkins smiled. It was a smile of great charm, creating the tiniest quirk at one corner of his firm mouth.
Evelyn had once thought his to be the most fascinating smile in all England, and even now, at the height of her wounded pride, she found that she must harden her susceptible heart against it.
“You have a droll sense of humor, Miss Dower. I had not appreciated it before, I am sorry to say.”
“Hadn’t you?”
There was something in Evelyn’s bright eyes and flippant voice that strongly reminded Mrs. Dower of her late husband when he had been in the throes of a towering temper, and that finally spurred her to action. With a hastily murmured word, she retreated in a most cowardly fashion.
“May I presume so far as to share your bench, Miss Dower?”
Evelyn inclined her head, still maintaining her haughty air. With magnificent indifference, she said, “As you wish, Mr. Hawkins.” He seemed impervious to her snub, and to her fury seated himself beside her. Evelyn gave a faint sniff and lifted her nose as though she scented something faintly obnoxious. She stared straight ahead, presenting him with only her profile.
Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat, then said with a grave air, “Miss Dower, I am fully cognizant of the maidenly confusion a young lady of delicate sensibilities must feel upon entertaining an interview such as this. If your father had been alive, I would certainly have applied to him and therefore spared you the awkwardness of our present meeting. Indeed, that happy conclusion is what I had hoped for when Lady Pomerancy approached Mrs. Dower.”
“Pray do not give it another thought, Mr. Hawkins. My mother persuaded me of the necessity of receiving you. I am quite resigned to it, I assure you,” said Evelyn, bestowing upon him an artificial smile.
Mr. Hawkins appeared insensitive to her heavy insult. Instead, an expression almost of relief crossed his face. “I am happy to hear you say so, Mrs. Dower. I was afraid of offending you with my boldness.”
Evelyn positively stared at the gentleman.
The thought crossed her mind that he was an idiot, but it was almost as instantly dismissed. Intelligence and humor enlivened his handsome countenance, while his vivid blue eyes regarded her with a smile in their depths. That left her with the uncomfortable suspicion that he was making game of her. “I assure you, Mr. Hawkins, I am not offended by your boldness,” she said warily.
Mr. Hawkins’s mouth quirked in its beguiling fashion. “I am glad of that.” He gently took one of her hands and lifted her fingers in tender, reverential salute.
At the touch of his lips, Evelyn felt a tingling sensation that sped from the tips of her fingers to her heart. She snatched free her hand. Pink flags flew in her cheeks. She was furious with herself. How could she be so affected by this mawkworm, this handsome pattern card!
Of course, it was true that she had thought herself in love with him for years, and particularly in the past twelvemonth. Mr. Hawkins was everything a young lady could desire in a gentleman. He was tall and well set-up, with a breadth of shoulder and an athletic build that were the envy of lesser men. His countenance was pleasant and his voice was pleasing to her ears. Whenever they had chanced to converse, she had been struck by his thoughtful intelligence.
If Mr. Peter Hawkins had applied to her under any other circumstances, she would gladly have accepted his suit and counted herself fortunate above all others.
However, that had not been her happy fortune. Instead, he had offered for her hand at his grandmother’s bidding, thus killing any romantic standing that he had once held with her.
Mr. Hawkins apparently mistook the outward signs of her fury for maidenly blushes, for he said contritely, “I have presumed too much. I apologize for my forwardness, Miss Dower.”
Evelyn all but ground her teeth. She did not look at him for fear he would read the contempt in her eyes too soon. She pleated her skirt between her fingers. Her voice trembled. “Mr. Hawkins, may we please come to the point of your visit?”
“Of course, Miss Dower. I understand completely your wish to be done with what must be a most uncomfortable business,” said Mr. Hawkins. He gently recaptured one of her hands, forcing her to raise her eyes in a quick glance. “Miss Dower, I have conveyed a formal offer for your hand to Mrs. Dower. Your delightful parent has given me encouragement to hope that such an offer is not entirely distasteful to you.”
Evelyn faced the gentleman seated beside her, intending to reject him without mercy. But when she met his eyes she found she could not be as brutal as she had intended. There was a shyness in his hopeful expression that made him look very much like an expectant puppy. Evelyn hesitated, then said quickly. “Mr. Hawkins, I do not think I can accept your suit.” She drew back her hand and laced together her fingers in her lap. Despising herself for cowardice, she yet glanced up to gauge his reaction.
Mr. Hawkins appeared so crestfallen that she took even greater pity on him, though she did not understand why she should do so after being the recipient of such an insult. “Actually, I am not interested in anyone’s suit at the moment. I—I am just come out of the schoolroom, you see, and I have not been presented yet...”
Evelyn let her voice trail off, wondering at herself. She had not meant to excuse her
rejection in any way, and yet she had done so. She frowned, worrying at her lip as she reflected upon her inexplicable behavior.
“I understand you, of course.”
Her eyes flew to his face. “Do you?” she asked, startled. How he could do so when she did not understand it herself was beyond her comprehension.
Mr. Hawkins smiled down at her, a little wistfully, she thought. “Your honesty does you much credit. Miss Dower,” he said. “You have enjoyed a most sheltered existence. It is only natural that you should wish to try your wings and see a bit more of the world before entertaining such a serious suit. I should have thought of it myself. I respect your wishes, of course. Nothing more need be said at present. I shall take my leave of you now in hopes that I may call again at another time.”
He had risen as he spoke and now he bowed formally to her. Mistaking her astonished expression, his mouth quirked a little. “Never fear, I shall not press you.”
Mrs. Dower, who had been hovering anxiously in the background, took Mr. Hawkins’s rising as her cue. She rushed over, already speaking before she reached the couple. “Oh, Mr. Hawkins! Surely you are not leaving us so soon. Why, I had quite hoped to be able to offer you some small refreshment.”
Mr. Hawkins turned the charm of his smile on the older lady. “Perhaps another time, ma’am. I shall wait on you and Miss Dower again, I assure you.”
He bowed to Mrs. Dower and the silent young lady who was still seated immobile on the bench. Then he walked away rapidly across the chamomile lawn to disappear behind the green hedges that separated the house from the gardens.
Mrs. Dower turned with a hopeful expression to her daughter. She asked hesitantly, “How did it go, Evelyn dearest? Am—am I to congratulate you?”
“Pray do not be such a pea-goose, Mama. Of course I did not accept Mr. Hawkins suit,” said Evelyn, more sharply than she had intended.
At the hurt in her mother’s eyes, she relented. “I am sorry, Mama. I am in a beastly mood and all due to that mawkworm.”
“Mawkworm! I would never describe young Peter Hawkins in such terms. Why, he is quite the handsomest gentleman in the neighborhood,” said Mrs. Dower in liveliest surprise.
Evelyn shrugged her shoulders in scorn of such a frivolous assessment. “I do not know how else one would describe a gentleman who allows his grandmother to approve his bride! No, Mama, I have not the least feeling or respect for Mr. Peter Hawkins, and so I let him know.”
“Did you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Dower doubtfully. “The gentleman did not appear in the least put out of curl, as one might have expected if he had been so abused. And he did say that he would call again.”
“Mr. Hawkins is merely all that is polite,” said Evelyn dismissively.
“Really, Evelyn. I am not used to such pertness in you. One would think you had a score of suitors, all as good or better than Peter Hawkins.”
“Perhaps I shall have, Mama.” Evelyn tilted up her chin in an unconsciously challenging pose. “Why not, indeed? I am considered to be passing fair and I am possessed of a respectable dowry. Why should I not attract a few eligible offers once I am out in society?” She curled her lip, casting a glance in the direction that had been taken by Mr. Hawkins. Under her breath, she muttered, “And offers that are not urged by the gentleman’s grandmothers, either.”
“You are in a rare mood and no mistake. However, I shall not say another word on that head as I suspect that it would be of not the least use to do so! How like your father you have become, and not once did I ever suspect it!”
Mrs. Dower sighed, but her next thought brightened her eyes at once. “Though I must say, I am happy to hear you say that you wish to be brought out. I had not thought you cared overmuch for the notion before but perhaps now it will be just the thing. Oh, I am persuaded it will be. Bath is not London, of course, but it is a fair society nonetheless.”
Mrs. Dower sat down on the bench, already beginning to enumerate the pleasures in store for a young lady embarking upon her first Season. She was soon quite happily resigned to the disappointment of the day, especially as she tucked away into her memory the promise made by Mr. Hawkins that he would call again. Perhaps once her daughter was exposed to other gentlemen she would come to see just what a pearl Mr. Hawkins was among his peers.
Evelyn could not quite enter into her mother’s plans for her. There was something about the interview with Mr. Hawkins that left her disquieted.
She had hoped to convey her displeasure and contempt for his proposal through an exaggerated hauteur that was in reality foreign to her nature. Indeed, she had intended to offend him so greatly that he would be so emboldened as to refuse to comply with his grandmother’s wishes and abandon any further pursuit of her hand.
However, she had the distinct feeling that she had missed an important nuance and that she had not come off from the meeting in quite the way she had wished. Nor, she suspected, had she conveyed to Mr. Hawkins her absolute and irrevocable rejection of his unflattering suit.
Chapter Three
Miss Dower’s suspicions were correct.
On any other gentleman, her concerted effort to convey her displeasure and contempt would have served remarkably well. Any other gentleman would have realized his humiliation and mistake, and gone away with such a disgust of her that all notion of a suit was abandoned.
However, as Mr. Hawkins returned home, it was not disgust or humiliated anger that he felt.
Contrary to what Miss Dower had hoped, Mr. Hawkins was not at all affronted by the Turkish treatment he had received at her dainty hands. In fact, if anyone had expressed the opinion that he had been ill-used by the lovely lady, Mr. Hawkins would have been amazed.
He had had little experience with young ladies. He assumed that Miss Dower had behaved with quite proper reserve and diffidence upon receiving his declaration.
He did not dwell, therefore, on the manner in which Miss Dower had received him, but rather her rejection. He was deeply disappointed, naturally, but his disappointment did not encompass any sharper feeling of resigned discouragement such as might have been felt by a less-infatuated gentleman.
Instead, he gave a mental shrug and wondered how best to make an impression upon Miss Dower’s as-yet untouched heart. Her desire to become comfortable in society before entertaining any suit was certainly not unreasonable, he thought. A lady had to have a certain amount of self-assuredness in order to play hostess to a new husband, and to carry it off well she needed first to learn how to deal with society.
He did not begrudge Miss Dower that experience; but rather, he approved of her farsightedness. Miss Dower was sensible and intelligent, both of which were qualities that he valued.
Yet he had the disquieting notion that he was about to enter the lists in order to win his lady, and for that he felt the slightest sense of anxiety.
Mr. Peter Hawkins was still deep in thought when he returned home and gave over his hat to the butler. He picked up the few missives on the tray in the hall and flipped through them. One commanded his attention, pulling him out of his preoccupation, and he immediately broke open its seal. As he read its contents, a smile touched his lips.
His pleasant reflections were cut short when the butler informed him that Lady Pomerancy awaited him in her private salon.
Sighing, Mr. Hawkins nodded his acknowledgement and mounted the stairs. He would have preferred to have put off the visit with his grandmother after returning from his unlucky errand, but he knew that it was best to humor her ladyship.
He knocked on the door to his grandmother’s apartments, and at a command to enter, he opened it.
“Peter, my dear boy!”
Lady Pomerancy peremptorily dismissed her maid. She was seated in her wheelchair so that the light from the window was cast behind her, leaving her sharp features partially in shadow.
“Grandmama.” Mr. Hawkins advanced to catch hold of Lady Pomerancy’s hands. Lady Pomerancy suffered to have her cheek kissed.
As he had
anticipated, however, her ladyship’s greeting was impatient. “Well, my dear?”
Lady Pomerancy indicated that he was to sit in the wing chair beside her.
Mr. Hawkins settled into the chair assigned to him. He knew quite well the subject of her abrupt query, and briefly, without elaboration, he said, “Miss Dower declined my suit.”
Lady Pomerancy stared at her grandson for a long moment. Then she snapped, “What ails the girl? Is she simple?”
“On the contrary. Miss Dower is highly intelligent,” said Mr. Hawkins.
“Then what is this nonsense about refusing your offer?”
“Miss Dower indicated a wish to be entered into society before she bound herself to any particular suitor. She felt that to go about in society would grant her a wider experience upon which to ground her decision,” said Mr. Hawkins.
“Errant nonsense!”
Mr. Hawkins brushed a nonexistent speck of lint from his coat sleeve. “I thought the lady’s reasoning quite sound.”
“Do you indeed!” Lady Pomerancy said irascibly. “The girl sounds a perfect nodcock to me. Indeed, if she is anything at all like the mother, she undoubtedly has more hair than wit. She could not do better than to accept an offer from you.”
Mr. Hawkins smiled at that. He regarded his grandmother with fondness, saying gently, “You are biased, ma’am. Admit it. You grudge me nothing in this world, and it annoys you when others do not do the same.”
After a moment, Lady Pomerancy’s fierce expression reluctantly lightened. She reached over a gnarled hand and briefly caught his fingers. “Aye, you are the light of my life. Of course I wish you to possess all that you desire.” She let go of his hand and pounded the arm of her chair. “Drat the girl! Does she not realize that you are besotted with her?”
Mr. Hawkins was fairly certain that Miss Dower did indeed lack that perception. He said slowly, “I do not think the fact has any bearing at all on the matter. It is more a question of where Miss Dower’s sensibilities may or may not lie.”