An Unreasonable Match

by Sylvia Andrew

  They had reached the Percevals. She greeted the parents with a friendly smile, and exchanged a few words with Hugo. Then Robert said, "Aunt, I'd like to introduce Miss Hester Perceval...and Mr Lowell Perceval." The lady curtsied, the young man—and what a personable young man he was!—bowed.

  She studied them with interest, while Robert joined in general talk with the family. At first sight it seemed that all the good looks in the family had gone to the male line. Hester Perceval was almost as tall as her brother—too tall, perhaps, for a woman. She was rather thin, and fashionably but quietly dressed in a pale muslin evening dress with a somewhat limp fall of lace round the neckline. Her hair was fair like that of her brothers, but its natural curls were smoothed down at the front and drawn into neat bands behind. If the girl had set out to make herself as dull and inconspicuous as possible, she could not have done better! Her brother, on the other hand, was every bit as good-looking as Hugo, but with a more immediately charming manner. In contrast to Hugo's air of calm assurance, there was a reckless air about him, and laughter seemed to hover round his mobile mouth and deep blue eyes. He was still young—younger, perhaps, than his years—but when he once grew up... A real charmer, though essentially a lightweight young man. It was obvious that the two younger Percevals were devoted to each other, though she suspected that the sister had the stronger character.

  When Hugo and Sir James and Lady Perceval started to move off Lady Martindale took a step back, but Robert gave a slight shake of his head and looked briefly in the direction of Miss Perceval. Lady Martindale was as quick as the next woman at taking a hint.

  Chapter Six

  "I hear you come from Northamptonshire," Lady Martindale said, turning back to Hester. "Tell me, do you know Lord Yardley and his delightful family? I don't believe I saw you at the ball the Yardleys gave for their daughter's come-out. That was a splendid affair..." For the next few minutes she chatted with the sister while Robert held the brother in conversation. Hester Perceval was polite, if rather colourless in her manner. But she was noticeably uneasy. She kept looking towards the two men as if anxious to know what they were saying, and her sigh of relief when they turned back to the ladies was almost audible.

  Lowell Perceval was looking ruefully guilty, rather like a small boy caught out in some mischief.

  "Hester, I'm afraid it's all up! Lord Dungarran has flushed me out. I've had to confess that I was at the lecture the other night."

  "I am surprised Lord Dungarran is so interested," said Hester coolly.

  "I hate mysteries, Miss Perceval," said Dungarran with one of his charming smiles. His aunt's interest quickened. Robert was dangerous when he smiled like this.

  "What is mysterious about my brother's attendance at a lecture?"

  Lady Martindale decided to take a part. "A mystery? A lecture? Robert, what is all this about?"

  "I'm sorry, Aunt. I'm being very rude. Forgive me. Mr Perceval was at a lecture at the Society last Wednesday, and when I quite mistakenly thought he was denying it, I was puzzled—and, yes, a little put out, too. It was one of the best I've heard."

  "I see. But where is the mystery in that?"

  "Mr Perceval claims he has no interest in mathematics. So what puzzles me is why he was there at all!"

  For a moment Lowell looked at a loss, and the girl next to Lady Martindale stiffened. Then she said with a laugh, "I can see you're going to have to tell them about your wagers, Lowell!" She turned to Lady Martindale, and with the first sign of vivacity she had shown she said, "You must know, Lady Martindale, that my brother cannot resist a wager. Have you heard of his exploits in Piccadilly?" She went on to explain in some detail how Lowell had ridden his horse at full gallop down one of London's main thoroughfares. She omitted no detail, describing the horses he had startled, the wagons he had narrowly missed, the carriages, the personages... Lady Martindale listened while she watched her nephew from the corner of her eye. Miss Perceval was making a brave effort to distract attention from the subject of Lowell's attendance at the lecture, but Robert, she knew, would not be put off. For all his relaxed air of someone who is enjoying an amusing anecdote, he was only waiting for the end of the recital to repeat his original question.

  When Hester finally ran out of breath, he said, "And all without real injury to anyone! You must be quite an accomplished horseman, Perceval! But what sort of a wager could entice you into the lair of the New Scientific and Philosophical Society?''

  Lowell once again hesitated, and his sister once again came to his rescue.

  "It was probably because of something I said, Lord Dungarran. I...er... I could not believe that Lowell would survive a lecture on such an uninteresting subject for more than half an hour. Oh! Forgive me, I mean no offence. I merely meant that it seems a dull subject to those who do not understand it." She paused. "To those who do, I am sure it is fascinating." Her words were innocent enough, and the tone was obviously meant to convey that Miss Perceval was not to be counted among them. But Lady Martindale sensed something more than this about it. Was it irony? Or mockery? There was certainly a thread of amusement. She looked at her nephew, but he appeared not to have noticed. His eyes were on Lowell Perceval.

  He said with a smile, "And was it such a penance? The young man who was with you seemed to be an enthusiast. I have seldom heard such impassioned words in defence of the subject! It can't have been Mr Gaines, surely?"

  Mr Perceval was now on his guard. "Why not?" he asked warily.

  "You told me yourself. He's in Devon with his godfather. And someone told me—can that have been you, too?—that he left London well before that Wednesday evening."

  The two Percevals exchanged glances. Lady Martindale was now in complete agreement with her nephew. These two were playing some game of their own. She could see that Robert was intent on challenging them. There was steel behind the amusement in his voice, and" he did not take his eyes from Lowell's.

  "Lowell! That's too bad of you!" Hester's exasperated exclamation cut into the pause. "My wager was that you should go alone, without other distractions. If you had the company of another young man to keep you amused, then I consider that you have lost!"

  "Lord Dungarran is mistaken, Hester, I swear. I wasn't with another man! It's true that someone next to me made a speech. He seemed to get a bit burned up, but I thought the whole thing very boring. You still owe me."

  Two pairs of eyes turned to Dungarran. Lady Martindale could see Hester's clearly for the first time. They were as deep a blue as those of her brother, and had the same limpidly innocent look in them. Her mouth twitched as she heard her nephew say, "So you cannot help me, after all. How very annoying! I shall have to think again."

  And she wondered if the Percevals were as little deceived as she was by these words. They might well be congratulating themselves on winning the first round in this war of wits, but she would venture a considerable sum on her nephew to win the match—and, unlike the Percevals' so-called wager, the bet would be genuine!

  Lady Martindale had derived considerable amusement from witnessing this exchange. She had no doubt that her nephew would be the victor in any battle of wits, but she suspected that he had at last met a worthy opponent—and not in the person of Lowell Perceval! She spent the next week or two watching the young Percevals closely and found nothing to cause her to change her mind. Hester Perceval was an enigma. When she said as much to her nephew he laughed at her.

  "My dear aunt! In what way can Hester Perceval possibly interest you? What on earth is enigmatic about her?"

  "You are very scornful of Miss Perceval, Robert. But in my view she must be unique! Young ladies enjoying a Season in London usually take endless pains with their appearance. Every skill known to their mamas, their dressmakers and their maids is employed to enhance their charms."

  "With varying success," said Robert with a grin. "And in Miss Perceval's case, very little."

  "But that's just it! She doesn't try for success, Robert! That is what makes her unique
! I have never before met a girl who appears to make every effort not to improve, but to minimise her looks."

  "Oh, come! That cannot be so."

  "I mean it! Her aim seems to be to disappear into the background. Her manners are well-bred, but they lack any personality. Her clothing is so un-noteworthy that five minutes after leaving her one has difficulty in remembering what she was wearing—''

  "But that's because she is a very dull girl!"

  "You think so? I don't believe I can agree with you. It surely did not escape you that it was the sister, not the brother, who found the excuses for Lowell's behaviour at your famous lecture? And I suspect she put herself forward in a most uncharacteristic manner to do so."

  "So you didn't believe in Lowell's reasons any more than I did?"

  "No. But did you not notice that it was Hester's quick-wittedness which saved him each time?"

  "And frustrated me." He thought for a moment. "I must confess I was concentrating on the young man. I didn't notice his sister's efforts. Are you sure it was so?"

  "Yes, Robert!" said Lady Martindale firmly. "And if you have not seen Miss Perceval when she is unaware of being watched, then I have. She is a different creature altogether. Altogether livelier and much more attractive."

  Robert Dungarran's tone revealed his continuing scepticism. "I cannot claim to have watched her as assiduously as you apparently have, but in my experience Hester Perceval could be described as neither quick-witted nor lively, and, though I'm sorry for the girl, I simply cannot imagine she could ever be attractive!"

  "You belong to the wrong group of people, my boy! With Lowell Perceval's friends, where she is perfectly at ease, she is a delightful creature—she laughs and teases, and is clearly popular with them all. It is only when she comes into Society with a capital 'S' that she is suddenly subdued."

  "You're imagining things!"

  "I assure you I am not! As soon as Hester Perceval comes into contact with anyone who could be described as 'eligible' she freezes. I have seen her!"

  "Then why else is she in London?"

  "I have heard that she is here most unwillingly. Her parents more or less insisted on it."

  He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "It would not be surprising if the poor girl was reluctant to venture into society again. Her first attempt ended in disaster... And if she finds amusement with Lowell Perceval and his friends then I am glad for her; though I am surprised. They seem very immature with their tricks and wagers. But my dear aunt, let us now talk of something else. I confess that I still find Miss Perceval a very boring topic of conversation!"

  Lady Martindale gave up "and talked of other matters. But she did not change her mind about Hester Perceval, and unobtrusively cultivated the girl's acquaintance. To this end she invited the Perceval family to one of her dinner parties.

  She invited her nephew, too, and though he was still preoccupied with his translation of the French documents, he agreed to come. He was less than pleased, however, when he discovered that his partner for the evening was Hester Perceval. But since his manners were impeccable, apart from casting a speaking glance at his aunt, he saw Miss Perceval to her place and sat down beside her with every appearance of pleasure. There was a short silence while he considered what the devil he should say to the girl.

  "Are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Perceval?" he finally asked.

  She looked at him thoughtfully as if debating what to reply. He wondered irritably what on earth the problem was. Surely a purely conventional "Very much!" or "Naturally" or even a noncommital "Sometimes" would do? Then they could safely go on to discuss the latest balls and concerts. That should last through several courses.

  "I didn't at first, Lord Dungarran. But now I am enjoying myself very much." He was so surprised at this that he threw her a quick glance. She looked down immediately, but not before he had caught a hint of mischief in the blue depths of her eyes.

  "Oh? Why is that?"

  "I... I have discovered that an old friend of mine is here," she said demurely. "Someone I have known for several years, but have not till now met in person."

  "Ah! Do I sense a romance?"

  "Oh no! Nothing like that. Our friendship is based on a meeting of minds. But it is very... interesting, nonetheless, to meet him."

  Dungarran nodded but sighed inwardly. He was doubtless about to hear of some worthy lady or elderly gentleman from the north, a missionary, or a reformer or something of that sort. He braced himself for a dissertation on the virtues of some undoubtedly very boring person.

  "I don't suppose I know him, do I?"

  "He is not known to society in general," she said somewhat evasively. "His talents are not ones which are commonly valued by the Ton."

  It was as he had thought. A preacher, or possibly one of the new radical thinkers, earnest in manner and depressingly dull in appearance. He persevered. "And are you happy with your new acquaintance? Are his appearance and conversation as you imagined them?"

  "They are radically different! In fact, I even occasionally find myself disliking him. But then I remember my former admiration and then..." She shook her head. "To tell the truth, I am not yet sure what I think of him. It is...most interesting." She glanced at him, and he was once again surprised by a gleam of amusement, mockery almost, in her eyes. What the devil was Miss Perceval up to? Her eyes were lowered again as she asked, "But may I ask if you have yet traced your elusive mathematician?''

  There was no doubt this time. Miss Perceval's manner was conventionally polite, the question harmless enough, but Robert Dungarran was nobody's fool. All his instincts—instincts which had served him well in the past—confirmed his suspicion that Miss Perceval was somehow making fun of him. A most unaccustomed flick of temper gave his next words unusual sharpness.

  "Not yet. But I will." His eyes rested for a moment on Lowell, seated further down the table. "And I am quite certain that your brother knows more about Euclid than he will admit, Miss Perceval." Keen grey eyes locked on to hers. "Moreover, I strongly suspect that you are in his confidence. Am I right?"

  Her eyes did not waver as she stared calmly back at him. "Are you suggesting that my brother is Euclid? I assure you that he is as ignorant as a swan on mathematical matters."

  "I accept your word for that. Besides, it agrees with what I have discovered. Your brother's talents did not lie in the sciences in Cambridge. I am sure, however, that he knows Euclid, and was with him at that lecture. The signatures in the register for the evening are both in his handwriting."

  There was a pause. Then she said with not the slightest trace of amusement in her voice, "I do not quite understand why you are pursuing the question of Euclid's identity with such determination, Lord Dungarran. But if you think Lowell knows more about Euclid than he has admitted, then you must talk to him—at another time, perhaps. I do not think Lady Martindale's dinner table a suitable place for...for such an inquisition. Excuse me." She turned to her neighbour on the other side, who happened to be free, and began a conversation with him.

  She had at least stopped laughing at him, he thought, with a certain amount of satisfaction. Really, what his aunt had said was perfectly right. Hester Perceval was an enigma, and would repay further observation. But not tonight—the girl was right, of course. His aunt's dinner table was not the place for serious investigation. And, to anyone who did not know how important it was to decipher the French papers as quickly as possible, his pursuit of Euclid must seem illogical, against the conventions of good society. But he would tackle Lowell Perceval very soon on his own ground and, meanwhile, he would watch Miss Perceval more closely.

  Dungarran could observe without being observed when he chose to. And for the next week he observed Hester Perceval. He saw with surprise how animated her conversation with Lowell Perceval's young friends could be, what a teasing, laughing relationship existed among them all. He saw her dancing, obviously enjoying every minute, and displaying a marked grace. But not with anyone who could be cl
assed as "an eligible young man". Her partners were members of her own family, friends of her parents, friends of her younger brother. As soon as she was asked to dance with anyone who had been in London six years before, or anyone who could be regarded as husband material, she stiffened and went silent and unresponsive. The transformation was amazing.

  A few days later he was with his godmother being driven along Piccadilly when they saw Miss Perceval entering Hatchard's bookshop. "Robert, look! Here's our chance. Biggs! Stop here! I wish to get down. Come, Robert. Let's find out a little more about our young lady. Is she buying Sir Walter Scott's latest offering? Or is Byron her choice? Or what?"

  "She doesn't like poetry," said her godson grimly, as they entered the shop, "but I can see one thing—Miss Perceval is once again walking out with neither groom nor maid to accompany her. And in Piccadilly, too!"

  "Shocking. But never mind that. I want to see what she does. Come!" They saw Miss Perceval had walked past the tables displaying novels and poetry, and was standing in front of a shelf holding a variety of scientific works. Even as they entered she started talking earnestly to an assistant there.