The Miser's Sister

by Carola Dunn

  “Nothing sensible!” Mr Pardoe had ordered. “I give them their Christmas bonuses for that. Children need a bit of frivolity now and then.”

  Parents might groan and cover their ears as Johnny appeared with a whistle and Sue with a tambourine, but Johnny and Sue were certainly satisfied.

  The dancing continued. Ruth found it did not matter if she did not quite remember the steps of the Eightsome Reel or which direction to go in the Barn Dance. Her admiring partners were blind to all faults and steered her kindly and tactfully to the right spot.

  “This way now, m’lady!”

  “That’s right, dearie, keep going!”

  Gradually all but the most energetic dancers dropped out. One by one the musicians gravitated toward the huge bowls of mulled ale, until a lone fiddler remained. Then he, too, put down his instrument, and the carollers paraded in.

  “Mary and the Cherry Tree,” “Three Ships a-Sailing.” “The Wassail Song,” “Past Three O’Clock,” and “The Coventry Carol,” all the old favourites were as new to Ruth as the old dances. As she helped to wrap the little ones against the cold, she wondered how she could have lived so many years in ignorance of all the traditions and customs of her country. With a shiver she dismissed memories of bleak Christmases at Penderric and joined the Pardoes in wishing the departing guests a very merry holiday.

  Chapter 10

  Christmas was over all too soon for Ruth. She and Letty had each received a fur muff from Mr and Mrs Pardoe, a luxury she had not even dreamed of possessing.

  “I am quite overwhelmed by your parents’ kindness,” she said to Rose. “It was generous of them to offer their hospitality, but they have gone far beyond that and made me feel one of your family.”

  “Because you seem to us one of our family. I could not ask for a dearer sister.”

  “I hope I shall be able to repay the debt a little when my uncle and aunt return. You must come with us to all the tonnish parties, and we’ll soon find you a congenial husband.”

  “Oh, Ruth, I so long to fall in love and marry and have a family of my own! I daresay I am too choosy, for it is not as if I have had no offers.”

  “With a wider circle of acquaintances, anything may happen. Though if I were in your situation, with a loving family, plenty of pin money, few responsibilities, I do not think I should be in such a hurry to leave it!”

  “There is no romance in your soul,” protested Rose, laughing.

  Letty bounced into the room. “Are you two whispering secrets again?” she enquired.

  Ruth looked guilty. She was sorry that Letty did not share her close friendship with Rose, though Letty did not seem to notice the lack. Now she was too interested in the news she had to resent the intimacy from which she was excluded.

  “Oliver says he’ll take us to see the Tower of London. I suppose it’s just more history, like those stupid Roman walls, but if we cannot go shopping, it’s better than doing nothing all day.”

  “I expect you’ll enjoy the Tower,” Rose told her. “The menagerie is worth a visit, and perhaps we will be able to see the Crown Jewels.”

  In the days that followed, Oliver escorted the young ladies on a number of excursions to see the sights of the City. Letty was most impressed by a tour of the Mansion House, which had been Mr Pardoe’s official residence during his term as Lord Mayor. She listened open-mouthed as Rose and Oliver described the magnificent processions and banquets celebrating his inauguration.

  St. Paul’s, being just around the corner from home, was left for a miserable wet and windy day when they did not wish to venture any farther afield. When they did go, Ruth was as impressed by the interior of the huge dome as by its exterior, which dominated London’s skyline. Oliver explained how the two were actually not the same, the outer one being supported by a hidden cone of brick.

  “Don’t spoil my illusions, Mr Pardoe!” she retorted with a smile. “Which reminds me, I have not yet seen the workshop you mentioned to me in Cornwall.”

  “Do you truly wish to? I must warn you that I am liable to grow excessively talkative on the subject of inventions.”

  “I should like it of all things, and I must warn you that I have some questions to pose about inflammable gas and why it is produced when water passes through hot iron filings.”

  “I can see you have been talking to Bob Polgarth,” said Oliver, considerably startled by her clear recollection of the details and her sincere curiosity. “I’ll take you to my laboratory this afternoon, if we can tear Letty away from the Whispering Gallery now.”

  So that afternoon, leaving Rose and Letty with novels, which were the favourite reading of both, Ruth followed Oliver along corridors hitherto unvisited, down stairs and through doors, until they came to a large room with a skylight.

  “It is an addition constructed especially for me when one of the adjoining buildings was torn down,” Oliver told her. “Pray excuse the disorder and the dust. The maids used to tidy up in here, but those who were not terrified always managed to break something, so I banished them.”

  Ruth gazed in awe at tables loaded with strange machines and apparatus. Books and pamphlets lay everywhere in apparent confusion.

  “How do you ever find anything?” she asked.

  “Oh, I know exactly where to lay my hands on everything. No one else ever comes in here. Father is interested only in results, and Mama and Rosie are curious only about when I am going to blow them up. I sometimes bring scientific friends here, but they know better than to touch things.”

  He demonstrated a miniature steam engine, a copy of one of Trevithick’s with improvements suggested by George Stephenson. Ruth was fascinated to see the tiny pistons move up and down and the gears rotate.

  “I had a slightly larger one,” said Oliver, “but I added my own improvements, and it exploded. Only a very small explosion,” he added quickly. “Do not tell Mama, I beg of you!”

  “I shan’t,” Ruth promised. “What is this?”

  Oliver was explaining the purpose of a series of retorts linked by rather crooked glass tubing, when a knock sounded at an exterior door that Ruth had not noticed. Oliver opened it and admitted a good-looking young man.

  “Michael! I am very glad to see you,” he greeted him. “I have a guest who would be interested to see what you can do with my Voltaic Pile. Lady Ruth, this is Michael Faraday, who assists Sir Humphrey Davy at the Royal Society. Michael, Lady Ruth Penderric is staying with my mother while her uncle is abroad.”

  Mr Faraday made a clumsy bow.

  “Pray excuse me, my lady,” he stammered. “I was just passing. No business of importance. I’ll be on my way...”

  “Do stay, sir,” Ruth urged. “I have discovered that Sir Humphrey is Mr Pardoe’s hero, and some of his glory must transfer to you. Will you not show me your experiments?”

  “Nothing Oliver can’t do,” the young man muttered, looking harassed, but he was soon put at ease when he found Ruth’s interest was genuine. He demonstrated an Electric Arc, and described the huge battery at the Royal Society and what he and his mentor were discovering with its aid.

  “They expect daily to produce a twitch in an elephant’s leg,” said Oliver with the solemn face that Ruth had come to associate with his teasing.

  “Nonsense! We have better things to do.”

  Ruth requested an explanation and was told a great deal more than she wished to hear about Signor Galvani’s experiments with frogs’ legs.

  “It sounds excessively nasty,” she commented, “but if electric current can make frogs’ legs move, can it not make other things move, as steam does in Mr Trevithick’s engine?”

  Mr Faraday looked thoughtful.

  “That is worth thinking about,” he said. “My lady, may I one day have the pleasure of demonstrating the huge arc we can produce at the Society?”

  “I should like it of all things, Mr Faraday,” Ruth assured him warmly.

  He bowed and took his leave.

  “Michael becomes quite ci
vilised,” said Oliver. “He was a bookbinder’s apprentice when Davy took him up, you know, and his mind is too full of electricity to concentrate on learning polite behaviour. He is a genius, though, I am quite certain, and Davy expects a great future for him. You made a strong impression on him, Lady Ruth.”

  “I fear it is very unladylike in me to be interested in such things,” Ruth apologised shyly. “I expect he was shocked because I asked so many questions.”

  “Not shocked at all, but delighted. As am I. It is rare enough to find a man with such a curiosity about science. I hope you will visit my humble laboratory again soon.”

  “May I, please? Perhaps if I get to know more about what you are doing here, you will allow me to dust and tidy for you.”

  “Ah, who is the tease now? I’m afraid I am teaching you bad habits, Lady Ruth.”

  Ruth laughed but did not answer, and, carefully locking the door, Oliver led her back to the main part of the house.

  They found the place in turmoil. Maids were scurrying here and there with beaming faces, the housekeeper was sitting on the stairs with her apron over her head, weeping, and as they entered the entrance hall they heard Bartlett giving orders to a trio of grinning footmen.

  “Of course Mr Oliver is in the house,” he scolded with uncharacteristic vivacity. “If he’s not in his room, nor the library, one of you run quickly to the laborority and see if he’s there.” The butler turned and saw Ruth and Oliver standing amazed. “Oh sir!” he cried, “your Pa... no, I mustn’t tell you, he’ll want to himself. They’re in the drawing room, Mr Oliver. Hurry now!”

  Totally bewildered, they obeyed.

  The scene in the drawing room was no more restrained. Mrs Pardoe did not have an apron, and was seated in a chair, but otherwise her posture was indistinguishable from the housekeeper’s. Only the smiling face she raised to her son persuaded him that some tragedy understood only by the two of them had not overtaken the household. Rose and Letty were holding both hands and swinging around in a wild dance. Mr Pardoe, grinning as widely as any of his servants, rushed to Oliver and attempted to embrace him upon both cheeks, no easy matter as he was a good foot shorter.

  “I’ve done it!” he crowed. “At last I’ve done it, my boy. You are now looking at Sir Edward Pardoe, Baronet!”

  “Father! A baronet! That is magnificent! And you were hoping for a mere knighthood.”

  “Did I not tell you that a large loan to the Prince Regent would wipe out his memory of years of contributions to Whig coffers, hey, Oliver? And the joke of it is that as a baronet I’ll have far more influence for Whig causes.”

  “Oh, Prinny cannot see beyond the end of his nose, Sir Edward. Mama—Lady Pardoe, I mean—you always knew he would do it.” Oliver bent to kiss his mother, and Rose stopped dancing long enough to give him a hug.

  “Oliver,” said Lady Pardoe, drying her tears, “the best is that of course you will inherit the title, though I expect your papa to become a baron as soon as the Whigs come to power.”

  Meanwhile, Ruth had offered sincere congratulations to the new baronet, who kissed her soundly on each cheek. It was much easier than doing the same to Oliver, and, as he told her, much pleasanter.

  Ruth exchanged hugs with Lady Pardoe and Rose, and with Letty for good measure. Oliver seized the opportunity of the general confusion to kiss and hug her himself. His first thought on hearing the news had been that as heir to a baronetcy he was several steps closer to being an eligible match for an earl’s daughter.

  There was a knock on the door and Bartlett, restored to his usual solemnity, appeared with a bottle of champagne and six glasses.

  “Permit me, Sir Edward,” he requested ponderously, “to offer the congratulations of the entire staff upon your elevation. It is very gratifying, sir, most gratifying I might say, to see a worthy gentleman and good master come by his reward. Begging your pardon, Sir Edward.”

  “Thank you, Bartlett, thank you very much. I hope you will all drink my health in a glass of port.”

  “Thank you, Sir Edward.” The butler bowed profoundly, poured the champagne and departed.

  “I expect it raises his stature no end, to be employed by a baronet,” Oliver declared. “Father, will you not now purchase an estate in the country?”

  “No, no, my boy. I am too old to learn to play the country squire. There is nothing to stop you, however, Oliver. I did not ‘lend’ the Regent so much that I cannot afford to indulge my family.”

  “Indeed, Oliver,” said Rose, “I think it would be an excellent idea. You may blow up a hundred workshops in the country, and no one will even notice. Mama and I might sleep easy once more.”

  “I shall consider it seriously, Father,” Oliver avowed, with a swift glance at Ruth that did not escape his mother’s eye. “Not too far from London, of course. I do not mean to abandon my present occupations, I should simply prefer to live amid trees and fields. Kew or Richmond, perhaps, or Hampstead. There is no hurry, however.”

  He was thinking that though he might now aspire to Ruth’s hand he should certainly not declare himself before her uncle’s return. Her situation was so unsettled that he had no intention of pressing her until her affairs were in order.

  But she had not mentioned the abominable Walter since her original refusal to flee to London, had not tried to bid him farewell when she changed her mind and left Cornwall.

  Was it too much to hope that she had broken her engagement? He wished he dared ask.

  There was her brother to be considered also. It seemed unlikely that he would give his blessing as it would mean losing control of her inheritance. Oliver realised that he was anticipating. Suppose Ruth did not wish to marry him?

  His mother was speaking.

  “We might all drive out some fine day,” she suggested, “and take a look at Hampstead and Kew. Whichever seems pleasantest in midwinter will certainly be delightful in summer.”

  “I should enjoy that,” agreed Ruth eagerly. “London is very interesting, but when one has grown up in the country, one misses the wide spaces and the open sky.”

  “Not I,” Letty objected. “I vow I should be happy never to set eyes on Bodmin Moor again. It is the dreariest place, no shops and no amusements. I am persuaded you would very soon miss London if you returned to Penderric, Ruth.”

  “I expect you are right, my dear, though I daresay Richmond is not at all like the moors. Only think of the varied scenery we passed through when we came here. I should like to travel to every part of Britain, to see the mountains and lakes and forests, and to go down a coal mine and see Mr Trevithick’s pumping engine and Sir Humphrey Davy’s lamp.”

  “I see you have infected our guest with your enthusiasms, Oliver,” said Sir Edward drily.

  “One day I’ll take you,” promised Oliver, “and Rosie shall come with us to play propriety.”

  “I will not!” declared Rose hurriedly. “You must find yourselves another chaperon. Wild horses would not drag me down a mine! Indeed, I have never felt any desire to go farther from home than Richmond Park, so Mama’s excursion will suit me very well. And if Oliver settles there I may even be prevailed upon to visit him.”

  Chapter 11

  Lady Pardoe’s outing was not destined to take place that winter. The very next day she came down with a putrid sore throat and retired miserably to bed.

  The doctor pronounced miasmas from the river to be the cause, aided, he said severely, by excessive excitement. Sir Edward began to wonder whether they should not remove, if not so far as Hampstead, then at least to Holborn, away from the Thames’s noisome exhalations, which had never troubled him before.

  Rose was forbidden to enter her mother’s room for fear of infection. Ruth, however, did not consider herself subject to such decrees.

  “I have very often nursed Letty,” she pointed out, “and I am never ill myself. If Lady Pardoe will have me, I insist on nursing her. I am sadly in need of an occupation.”

  Lady Pardoe was feeling too sick to ar
gue, and gratefully accepted Ruth’s ministrations, while Rose took over the management of the household.

  Ruth found that caring for her patient took most of her time, but she dined with the rest of the family and spent half an hour in the drawing room after dinner.

  “You are a superb housewife,” she congratulated Rose on the second evening. “I quite thought that choosing pretty clothes and reading romantic novels were your only accomplishments.”

  “Wretch! Mama made sure that my practical education was not neglected, though in general I rarely need to display my abilities. I am out of practice, and everything takes twice as long as it should.”

  “The establishment runs perfectly smoothly, even with sickness in the house. I’m sure I cannot guess how you manage to direct so many servants. I should not know where to begin.”

  “Everyone is too busy to do the things I want to do,” complained Letty. The charming effect of a new gown of pink taffeta was ruined by her sulky face. “It is too bad. I daresay Lady Pardoe is not half so ill as you pretend, Ruth. It is very selfish in you to leave me on my own so much.”

  “Lady Pardoe is not at all well, Letty, and anything I can do to make her more comfortable is a small repayment for her hospitality. I must go back to her now. I promised I should not be away long.”

  “You see, there you are running off to look after a stranger and leaving your own sister to fend for herself.”

  Ruth cast a harried look of apology at Rose and left the room without attempting further remonstrances.

  “My mother would not go on half so well without Ruth,” Rose said coaxingly. “We are all very grateful to her. Come, tell me about the book you are reading.”

  “It is amazingly dull. I expect I shall not finish it. Rose, let’s go shopping tomorrow. I need a shawl and some new gloves.”

  “I doubt I shall have time, Letty, but I will try.”

  Oliver, following his father into the room, heard this last exchange and decided it was his duty to entertain Letty. That evening he taught her to play casino. She picked it up quickly and was lucky in her cards, winning from him a large pile of buttons scavenged from his mother’s workbox.