by Joan Smith
Marndale was to return on Friday afternoon. Victoria was eager to be home to greet him and looking her best. “For he does not usually come alone,” she mentioned with a teasing look. “You must tidy your hair, Jennie, and wear your nicest gown. Perhaps some of his guests will be bachelors.”
There was a place for building character and doing good deeds but that need not prevent a lady from making a push to attach a husband. I did as she advised and was sitting with Victoria in state in the garden with a dainty umbrella to protect our complexions when the carriages rumbled up the drive.
“Only one extra carriage,” Victoria said, peering through the privet hedge. “I wonder who it can be. There is a crest on the door. Let us go out and meet them.”
With Victoria for an excuse I did exactly what I had been wanting to do myself. Who should step down from the other carriage but Lord Anselm, brother to Lady Mary Anselm, an ex-pupil. I recognized his long, lean frame and curly head four yards away, and he recognized me as well.
“Miss Robsjohn, what the deuce are you doing here?” he smiled, and came pouncing forward to shake my hand like an old friend. I had forgotten his chin was so huge. It hung like a beard made of flesh.
“I am keeping Lady Victoria company while her father looks about for a permanent companion.” I noticed from the corner of my eye that Marndale was looking at me, waiting for me to welcome him; but I could not cut Lord Anselm off too abruptly.
“I had no notion you were connected to Marndale,” he continued, “though I realized, of course, you were dashed out of place in that school in Bath.” I flushed with pleasure and admitted I was not connected to Marndale. “Charles, you sly dog,” he continued, turning to Marndale, “you did not tell me you knew Miss Robsjohn. I should have known when you mentioned your guest’s fiery crown.” His eyes slid toward my curls in a knowing grin.
I derived considerable amusement from Marndale’s shocked face. It amused me, too, that he had been giving his guest a description of me. I went forward to shake his hand and make him welcome at his own home.
“Jennie, how has everything been going?”
“Victoria and I have managed to fill our days most agreeably.”
“Jennie has reformed me, Papa!” Victoria laughed.
A flash of interest lit his eyes at our easy rapport and use of first names. “I recognized Jennie as an extremely capable lady from the start, but I had no notion she was a miracle worker.”
“Oh, Papa, surely I was not that bad! Just selfish and spoiled.”
They began walking toward the door together, and I fell into step behind with Lord Anselm. Our conversation was about what was to be expected. He asked when I had left the school, and why, and paid a few compliments to the effect that I must be sorely missed there. His business with Marndale was political. He had come for the weekend to iron out the details of some bill for presentation in Parliament. I made sure to mention I would soon be in London, and he asked for permission to call without blinking an eye. My being at Wycherly put me on a completely different social level, as I had suspected it would.
We all went into the saloon, and Mrs. Irvine came to join us. I have given her short shrift in my account. She did not accompany Victoria and myself on our outings. There was plenty to entertain her in the house and gardens. She liked to sit at a window with a good view, doing her netting. She took many strolls through the park for exercise and struck up a friendship with the housekeeper and the gardener; and, of course, spent time with myself and Victoria as well.
Lord Anselm took up the chair beside me and continued his overtures at friendship while we had our sherry and biscuits. “Fancy Mary not telling me you had left the seminary. Of course, I have not heard from her in a month, but she might have written me the news. You were her favorite teacher, Miss Robsjohn. Her letters were always full of your doings. She is due home herself in the summer for a year’s ripening in the country before I trot her off to the Season. She gave me a detailed account of the nature hikes you took the girls on last year. Once you remained outdoors overnight, I believe?”
“Yes, it was our intention to live off the land for two days—with a little help from a picnic basket and two footmen to build fires and so on. The headmistress had been reading Mrs. Brunton’s Self-Control, and was greatly impressed with the heroine’s ingenuity in the face of hardship. It was the girl’s escaping her attacker in America by floating downstream in a birchbark canoe that particularly impressed her. Rafting was a feature of our great outing.”
“You and I should try camping in the wilderness overnight, Jennie,” Victoria said. I did not realize till she spoke that both she and her father were listening to Anselm and me. She continued talking to her father. “Jennie is making me self-reliant, too, Papa. She is teaching me to drive, and we have been visiting the poor and Mrs. Munson. The twins are beautiful. Oh, and we are taking flowers to the church tomorrow so they will be fresh for the Sunday service.”
“All this in three days!” Marndale asked, laughing, but there was approval in his manner. “I have always heard a leopard does not change its spots.”
“Ho, they would wear stripes or plaid or a monkey suit if Miss Robsjohn told them to,” Anselm said.
“Good gracious! You all make me sound like a tyrant. I hope I am not so bad as that. Can you not come to my aid, Mrs. Irvine?”
“You are looking so pleased with all the attention that I didn’t want to spoil your moment of glory. It’s not often you have two gentlemen hanging on your every word.”
“And one lady,” Victoria said, laughing at my blush.
“Aye, for this one isn’t interested,” Mrs. Irvine said, with a sour look.
“How have you been getting along, Mrs. Irvine?” Marndale inquired, as being ignored had put her out of frame.
“This is Jennie’s canard. I’ll let her milk it. I have been taking it easy and letting her do all the work. I am like a blister. I only show up after the work is done.”
“What work?” I asked, pleased at all the attention. “It is Victoria who has been doing all the good works. I have done nothing but talk.”
“You were always good at that,” Mrs. Irvine slid in.
“I have been lecturing the hoyden for sixteen years,” Marndale objected. “You must be an extremely efficacious talker, Jennie.”
“She could talk the hide off a cow,” Mrs. Irvine informed him.
“By Jove, I like a lady who has some conversation,” Anselm said. “Trying to get a word out of most ladies is as futile as shearing a pig. Nothing comes of it. When may I expect to see you in London, Miss Robsjohn?” he asked eagerly.
“The week after next.”
Marndale’s head slewed sharply toward us. I intercepted a look and asked if he had had any luck in finding a companion for Victoria.
“Truth to tell, Anselm and I have been so busy with government matters that I had time to do no more than put out a few feelers. I’ve also inserted an advertisement in the journals. I hope by next week I may find someone.”
“If it will mean hastening Miss Robsjohn to London, I shall give you a hand,” Anselm said. “I know it is the very devil to find a good companion. There aren’t many as capable as Miss Robsjohn around.” He drew his chair a little closer and began to talk about Mary.
His friendliness was pleasing, but I regretted that he should monopolize me. The meeting soon broke up. The gentlemen wanted to bathe after their trip, and we ladies had to make a grand toilette for dinner.
Chapter Eight
Having Marndale home and a guest besides made dinner special. I wanted to wear my bronze, but again Mrs. Irvine deterred me. “Best save your fine feathers, Jennie. What will you wear to stun Marndale if he has a real party while we’re here?” she asked in her commonsensical way. I wore the citron complexion destroyer again. Anselm praised it to the skies.
“We did not see this side of Miss Robsjohn at the seminary!” he exclaimed after three or four outrageous compliments. I wished he woul
d not harp on the seminary, but he was so complimentary that it is mere carping to mention it.
“I doubt you heard the rough side of her tongue either, as I have done,” Marndale said, and went on to describe our initial encounters with many jokes and much laughter.
“No, surely he did not accuse you of being an abbess!” Anselm expostulated. “It’s like calling a judge a felon. Unthinkable!”
“She called me a rake!” Marndale defended.
“Ah, but that is not entirely unthinkable, is it, Charles?” Anselm laughed.
Marndale gave an uneasy look and sought refuge in French. “Honi soit qui mal y pense.”
I called them to account. “Gentlemen, a little decorum if you please. Small pitchers have large ears.” I glanced at Victoria.
“You’re the one who brought up the abbess business,” Mrs. Irvine reminded me. So helpful of her!
I may be blowing my own horn to say it, but there was a feeling in the air that the two gentlemen were in competition for my favors that evening. As surely as Lord Anselm recalled some incident from the seminary (where else?), Marndale would retaliate with an account of some more recent occurrence. After dinner and after the gentlemen had taken their port, they joined us in the saloon and we discussed how to pass the evening. As there was only Anselm from outside, Lady Victoria was allowed to stay up with the adults. Really she seemed more mature already.
“Shall we take the ladies for a ride to Reigate tomorrow?” Marndale asked with the air of conferring a treat. “A little shopping, luncheon at an inn ...”
“I shall be busy, Papa,” his daughter replied, very high on her dignity. “I have promised Vicar flowers for the church, and I will be taking Mrs. Munson a basket while she is not feeling quite the thing, you know. Then I must have my driving lesson.”
She chose a poor time to insist on her new regime in my view. I would have enjoyed the outing to Reigate, but I could not like to deter her when it was all my own idea.
“Our calendar is full, Marndale,” I joked. “You must make an appointment in advance if you wish to entertain your daughter.”
“Then I shall ask you all to leave next weekend open. I will be bringing a few guests home. We’ll have a dinner party and perhaps some informal dancing.”
My mind flew to my bronze, happy that Mrs. Irvine had not let me wear it before.
“We must have our overnight camping expedition before the weekend, Jennie,” Victoria said. It seemed quite a settled thing in her mind. She was determined to do anything my other girls had done. “Perhaps you could suggest a safe spot for the venture, Papa?”
“I don’t know that I approve of the venture at all,” he said doubtfully.
“Fear not, Marndale,” Anselm told him. “With Miss Robsjohn at the helm, nothing would dare go amiss. The very birds in the trees and deer in the forest rush to do her bidding.”
“But do the winds and rain?” Marndale asked, with a quizzing smile in my direction. That look suggested that they did. He accepted the plan with a joke and discussed a likely location with Victoria. I was not familiar with the territory, but she knew the area he referred to. He mentioned wooded acres with some pond or river or lake for us to take a raft out on after we had constructed it.
Then he turned to speak to me. “You will take a few servants along, I trust? The Hubbards are a good, reliable pair and young enough to enjoy this unusual outing. He works in my stable but would prefer to live in a tree or a hollow log. He goes into the forest as often as his duties permit. Mrs. Hubbard helps out in the kitchen and can help you with the cooking. Be sure you take plenty of warm blankets. I’ll speak to Hubbard myself and see that he is aware of your needs.”
“I am not a child, Papa!” Victoria objected. “You may leave the arrangements to Jennie and me.”
He just shook his head in wonderment. The evening passed swiftly with no special entertainment. We all agreed that cards were a dead bore and settled instead on various childish word games, which involved many wretched jokes and worse puns. Before retiring I had a moment with Marndale to discuss Victoria’s transformation.
“It is almost incredible, the change in her. She is not only in a better mood, she actually looks better,” he said.
“It is being out in the fresh air that accounts for it.”
“Have the Simon girls been to call?” he asked with an air of diffidence.
“No, nor has she been there to meet Desmond. I assume that is what really bothers you?”
“There is nothing particularly amiss with the family, but I would not like her to become intimate with them. It was Miss Clancy who instituted the friendship. She had her eye on Desmond, I expect.”
“And Desmond had his on Victoria. I thought Miss Clancy got married recently? Why would she be dangling after Simon?”
He hesitated a moment before replying. “To make her beau jealous, perhaps,” he said. I felt the name Anselm float in the air between us. There was something in the way he studied me, with a curiously pensive expression. “There is nothing like competition to waken a man up.”
My duty was to fail to read anything personal in this speech. “We met the girls in the village the day you left. I believe I have talked Victoria out of intimacy.”
“How did you manage that, Jennie?”
“Why, I told her it would be unkind of her to lead Desmond on if she had no intention of having him.” When I saw the mischief inherent in my words, I hastened on. “But really it is the driving lessons that distract her.”
“That was well done of you to teach her. How is she doing?”
“Remarkably well.”
“I fancy she has an excellent instructor in the formidable Miss Robsjohn.” This speech was accompanied by a small bow. “Is there anything you cannot do?”
“Yes. I have very little notion how to run a household. Our housekeeper did that when Papa was alive, and I went from home to the seminary. Your housekeeper should give Victoria some instructions.” I had just let slip I’d been teaching six years. Marndale did not look surprised.
“Vickie was never interested before, but since her change of heart no doubt she will give it a try. I scarcely recognize her since I returned. The change, I need hardly say, is all for the better. How did you manage the miracle, Jennie?”
“I appealed to her finer instincts. I tried to make her aware of her privileged position. Noblesse oblige and all that.”
He grinned. “I hadn’t thought of trying guilt.”
“Perhaps you were not so aware of her privileges, as you share them.”
He rewarded my impudence with a wry smile. “Very likely. But I hope you will not chastise me for failing to shoulder my responsibilities. I have been working like a slave these past days and shall burn the midnight oil with Anselm tonight while you rest. You and Anselm are old friends, I take it? Were you neighbors before your father died?”
“Oh no. I only met him at the seminary, where Lady Mary was a student.”
His eyes widened at that. “One cannot blame him for being a slow top. The relationship seemed ... warmer than a merely professional one.”
“We met several times over the years. We are hardly bosom bows.”
“Good,” he said softly, while a small smile played over his lips. Then he bowed, wished me good night, and returned to his office.
I pondered that quiet “good” while I undressed. There was nothing amiss with Anselm’s character. Such things become known at the seminary, and in any case Marndale would not have brought a scoundrel into his own house. So what could he mean? I could not think of any plausible reason for the remark, but the implausible one pleased me greatly.
That weekend passed in a delightful blur of activity. By rushing all Victoria’s good works and her driving lesson into the morning we found time for a drive with the gentlemen in the afternoon. Not to Reigate but along a country road where a riot of wild flowers spangled the meadows and perfumed the air. We got out and took a leisurely stroll. Anselm was atte
ntive. Marndale was unhappy with the attentions, and Lady Victoria watched the show with the curious face of a dowager, not disapproving exactly but not entirely happy either. It was for Mrs. Irvine, who sat bobbin during the trip, to call me to account after we returned home and I was boasting a little of my conquests.
“You were about as subtle as a bull in rut, Jennie,” she cautioned. “You made a cake of yourself, hanging on to Lord Anselm’s arm and laughing your head off at every foolish word he uttered. Only lightskirts are so eager to please men. Marndale is not a fool. He could see you were angling for the man.”
“But did you see how it annoyed him?” I riposted.
“Yes, very likely he wants you to take on his daughter till she marries and nabbing Lord Anselm would interfere with that. I admit you have done good work there but don’t go imagining there is anything personal in his interest.”
Her plain speaking quite took the wind out of my sails. This perfectly logical idea had not occurred to me, but as I reviewed our various conversations I had to admit his kind words centered almost totally on my way with Victoria. Even that quiet “good” that had kept me awake last night took on a less attractive hue.
“Anselm didn’t seem to mind. He would be a pretty good catch, don’t you think?” I said offhandedly, for I would not satisfy her to let her know I was cross.
“He’s so ugly he shouldn’t be allowed out in daylight without a bag over his head.”
“Ugly! Just because his hair is a little frizzy...”
“A little frizzy? He looks like a Hottentot! And it was his chin I was referring to. If it were any longer, he’d need a wheelbarrow to keep it off the floor.”
“What nonsense. All the girls at the seminary called him handsome.”
“Aye, they’d call a ‘rangutang handsome if he had a handle to his name. And never mind avoiding the issue. Did Marndale ask you to remain on longer? You may do it if you wish, but in that case, what the deuce am I doing here?”