The Nonesuch

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “I have no expectation of being married, ma’am, and you know it is customary for a gover—”

  “No, and nor you will be if you don’t prettify yourself a bit!” interrupted Mrs Underhill tartly. “If you aren’t wearing that old, brown dress, too, which is enough to give anyone the dismals! I declare you’re as provoking as Tiffany, Miss Trent!”

  So Miss Trent went away to remove the offending cap, but she did not change her dress, or come downstairs again until the guests had all arrived, when she slipped unobtrusively, into the drawing-room, responding to greetings with smiles and slight curtsies, and sitting down in a chair as far removed from Sir Waldo as was possible.

  She was seated at dinner between the Squire and the Rector, and with these two uncritical friends she was able to converse as easily as usual. It was more difficult in the drawing-room, before the gentlemen joined the ladies. Mrs Mickleby talked of nothing but the waltzing-ball, and contrived, with her thin smile, to plant quite a number of tiny daggers in Miss Trent’s quivering flesh. Miss Trent met smile with smile, and replied with a calm civility which made Mrs Mickleby’s eyes snap angrily. Then Mrs Chartley, taking advantage of a brief pause in these hostilities, moved her seat to one beside Ancilla’s, and said: “I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Miss Trent. I have been meaning for weeks to ask you if you can recall the details of that way of pickling mushrooms which you once described to me, but whenever I see you I remember about it only when we have parted!”

  Ancilla could not but be grateful for the kindness that prompted this intervention, but it brought the colour to her cheeks as Mrs Mickleby’s barbs had not. She promised to write down the recipe, and bring it to the Rectory; and wished very much that she could retire to the schoolroom before the gentlemen came in. It was impossible, however: Mrs Underhill expected her to pour out tea later in the evening.

  A diversion (but a most unwelcome one) was created by Tiffany, who suddenly exclaimed: “Oh, I have had a famous notion! Do let us play Jackstraws again!”

  Since she had broken in not only on what Patience was saying to her, but on what Mrs Mickleby was saying to Mrs Underhill, this lapse from good manners made Miss Trent feel ready to sink, knowing that Mrs Mickleby would set the blame at her door. Worse was to come.

  “I was hoping Miss Chartley would give us the pleasure of hearing her sing,” said Mrs Underhill. “I’ll be bound that’s what we should all like best, such a pretty voice as you have, my dear!”

  “Oh, no! Jackstraws!”

  “Tiffany,” said Miss Trent, in a quiet but compelling voice.

  The brilliant eyes turned towards her questioningly; she met them with a steady gaze; and Tiffany went into a trill of laughter. “Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean to be uncivil! Patience knows I didn’t, don’t you, Patience?”

  “Of course I do!” replied Patience instantly. “I think it would be much more amusing to play Jackstraws. But Miss Trent will beat us all to flinders—even Sir Waldo! If you and he engage in another duel, ma’am, I shan’t bet against you this time!”

  Miss Trent could only be thankful that at that moment the door opened, and the gentlemen came in. She was able to move away from the group in the middle of the room on the pretext of desiring one of the footmen to open the pianoforte and to light the candles in its brackets, and she remained beside the instrument, looking through a pile of music. After a minute or two she was joined by Laurence, who came up to her, and said very politely: “Can I be of assistance, ma’am? Allow me to lift that for you!”

  “Thank you: if you would put it on that table, so that the instrument may be opened—?”

  He did so, and then said, with a winning smile: “You must let me tell you how delighted I am to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, ma’am. With one member of your family I’m already acquainted: I believe Bernard Trent is your cousin, is he not?”

  Miss Trent inclined her head. It was not encouraging, but Laurence persevered. “A first-rate man! The best of good company! We are quite old friends, he and I.”

  “Indeed!” said Miss Trent.

  He was not unnaturally daunted, for her tone was arctic, and the look in her eyes contemptuous. He wondered what the devil was the matter with her, and felt aggrieved. Anyone would have supposed that she would have been glad to meet someone who knew her cousin, but instead she had snubbed him! Pretty well for a governess! he thought indignantly.

  She realized that she had spoken curtly, and added, with a slight smile: “I daresay you are better acquainted with him than I am, sir. He has never come very much in my way.”

  She turned away, to adjust one of the candles, and as she did so looked up, to find that Sir Waldo was standing within easy earshot. Her eyes met his, and saw that they were alight with amusement, and involuntarily she smiled. It was only for an instant, but Laurence caught the exchange of looks, and was so much pleased to find his suspicion confirmed that he forgot his indignation. If ever two people were head over ears in love! he thought, and tactfully moved away.

  Sir Waldo strolled up to the pianoforte, and picked up the snuffers. As he trimmed one of the candlesticks he murmured: “He meant well, you know! Of course, I ought to have warned him.”

  “I’m afraid I was uncivil,” she owned.

  “No, no, merely quelling!” he assured her.

  She could not help laughing, but she was aware of Mrs Mickleby’s eyes upon her, and said: “That was very bad! Excuse me—I must speak with Miss Chartley!”

  She walked away immediately, and contrived to remain at a distance from him until the tea-tray was brought in. She was ably assisted by Mrs Mickleby, who kept him at her side, and maintained a flow of vivacious small-talk until Patience had been persuaded to sing. After that, Tiffany renewed her demand that they should play at Jackstraws, which enabled Miss Trent to retire into the back drawing-room, where she became busy, finding the straws, and settling the four youngest members of the party round the table. Sir Waldo made no attempt to follow her; but when she was obliged to return to the front drawing-room, to dispense tea, he came up to the table to receive his cup from her, and asked her quietly if he had offended her.

  No, but people are saying that I have set my cap at you!

  Unthinkable to utter such words! She said: “Offended me? No, indeed! How should you?”

  “I don’t know. If I did, I should be begging you to forgive me.”

  Her eyes smarted with sudden tears; she kept them lowered. “How absurd! To own the truth, I have the headache, and should perhaps be begging your pardon for being cross and stupid! This is Mr Chartley’s cup—would you be kind enough, Sir Waldo, to give it to him?”

  He took it from her, but said, “If that’s the truth I am sincerely sorry for it, but I don’t think it is. What has happened to distress you?”

  “Nothing! Sir Waldo, pray—!”

  “How intolerable it is that I should be forced to meet you always in public!” he ejaculated under his breath. “I shall drive over tomorrow—and hope to find you, for once, alone!”

  That made her look up. “I don’t think—I mean, it is not—that is, I cannot conceive, sir, why—”

  “I wish for some private conversation with you, Miss Trent. Now, don’t freeze me with Indeed! as you froze poor Laurie, or tell me that you can’t conceive why I should hope to find you alone!”

  She forced her lips to smile, but said with a good deal of constraint: “Very well—though it is true! But you must know, sir, that it would be quite improper for me—in my situation—to be receiving visitors!”

  “Oh, yes! I know that. But mine won’t be a social call!” He saw the guarded look in her face, and his eyes twinkled. “I have a—a certain proposition to lay before you, ma’am! No, I shan’t tell you what it is tonight: I can see you would bite my nose off!”

  Chapter 11

  But when Sir Waldo called at Staples next day he entered upon a scene of disorder. He did not see Miss Trent at all, but he did see Mrs Underhill; an
d when she had explained why he should have found them all in an uproar, as she phrased it, he made no attempt to see Miss Trent. He had clearly chosen the wrong moment for declaring himself.

  Miss Trent, withdrawing from the party as soon as she had poured out tea, had gone upstairs to find Charlotte looking flushed and heavy-eyed, and obviously suffering a good deal of pain. Her old nurse was ministering to her; and she made it plain that while Miss Trent was at liberty to instruct her nurseling, neither her advice nor her assistance was required when Miss Charlotte was feeling poorly. She had several infallible remedies for the toothache to hand; and although she was sure it was very obliging of Miss Trent to offer to sit up with Miss Charlotte there was not the least need for her to put herself out.

  Correctly understanding this to mean that any attempt on her part to lend Nurse her aid would be regarded by that lady as a gross encroachment, Miss Trent retired, not unthankfully, to her own room, and to bed.

  But not to sleep. She was tired, but her brain would not rest. The evening, which was fast assuming the proportions of a nightmare, had culminated in a brief exchange with the Nonesuch which provided her with much food for thought, and was open to more than one interpretation.

  It was during the small hours that she was roused from a fitful doze by the creaking of a floor-board. She raised herself on her elbow, thrusting back the curtain round her bed, and listened. A heavy footfall, which she instantly recognized, came to her ears, and the creek of the door that led into the servants’ wing; and without troubling to light her candle from the tinder-box that stood on the table by her bed, she got up quickly, groping in the dim dawn light filtering between the blinds for her slippers, and shrugging herself into her dressing-gown. She saw, when she went out on to the broad passage, that the door into Mrs Underhill’s room was open; and she went at once to Charlotte’s room, where, as she had feared, a most distressing sight confronted her. Charlotte, having stoutly declared when she bade her governess goodnight that she was better, and would be as right as a trivet by morning, was walking up and down the floor in her nightdress, her cap torn off, and tears pouring down her face. Nurse’s infallible remedies had failed; Charlotte’s toothache had grown steadily worse, until she had been unable to bear it with fortitude any longer. She was obviously almost crazy with pain; and Miss Trent, perceiving that the glands in her neck were swollen, and recalling a hideous night spent in ministering to her brother Christopher in just the same circumstances, had little doubt that an abscess was the cause of her agony. Nurse had tried to apply laudanum to the affected tooth, but Charlotte screamed when she was touched, and behaved so wildly that Nurse had taken fright, and gone away to rouse her mistress.

  Mrs Underhill was a devoted parent, but she had very little experience of illness, and could scarcely have been thought an ideal sickroom attendant. Like many fat and naturally placid persons, she became flustered in emergency; and as her sensibility was far greater than her understanding the sight of her daughter’s anguish upset her so much that she began to cry almost as much as Charlotte. An attempt to cradle Charlotte in her arms had been fiercely repulsed; her fond soothings had had no other effect than to make Charlotte hysterical; but thankful though she was to see Miss Trent come into the room she was quite indignant with her for showing so little sympathy, and for speaking to Charlotte so sternly.

  “However, she did it for the best, and I’m bound to say she made Charlotte sit down in a chair, telling her that to be rampaging about the room, like she was doing, only served to make the pain worse. So then Nurse set a hot brick under her feet, and we wrapped a shawl round her, and Miss Trent told me she thought it was an abscess, and not a bit of use to put laudanum on her poor tooth, but better, if I would permit it, to give her some drops to swallow in a glass of water, so as to make her drowsy. Which it did, after a while, but such a work as it was to get Charlotte to open her lips, or even take the glass in her hand, you wouldn’t believe!”

  “Poor child!” said Sir Waldo. “I expect she was half mad with pain.”

  “Yes,—and all through her own fault! Well, I hope I’m not unfeeling, but when she owned to Miss Trent that she had had the toothache for close on a sennight, and getting worse all the time, and never a word to a soul, because she was scared to have it drawn,—well, I was so vexed, Sir Waldo, after all that riot and rumpus, that I said to her: ‘Let it be a lesson to you, Charlotte!’ I said.”

  “I should think it would be, ma’am. I own I have every sympathy with those who dread having teeth drawn!”

  “Yes,” agreed Mrs Underhill, shuddering. “But when it comes to letting things get to such a pass as last night, and still crying, and saying she wouldn’t go to Mr Dishforth, no matter what, it’s downright silly! Well, I don’t mind saying that it put me in a regular quake only to think of taking her to him, for I can’t but cry myself when I see her in such misery, and a nice thing that would have been—the pair of us behaving like watering-pots, and poor Mr Dishforth not knowing what to do, I daresay! Not but what I would have gone with her, only that Miss Trent wouldn’t have it, nor Courtenay neither. Miss Trent took her off first thing, and Courtenay went along with them, like the good brother he is. And just as well he did, for they were obliged to hold her down, such a state as she was in, and how Miss Trent would have managed without him I’m sure I don’t know. So then they brought her home, and Courtenay’s ridden off to fetch Dr Wibsey to her, for she’s quite knocked up, and no wonder!”

  Decidedly it was not the moment for a declaration. Expressing an entirely sincere hope that Charlotte would soon be herself again, Sir Waldo took his leave.

  He was not to see Miss Trent again for five days. Charlotte, instead of making the swift recovery to be expected of such a bouncing girl, returned from Harrogate only to take to her bed. Her feverish condition was ascribed by Dr Wibsey to the poison that had leaked into her system; but Mrs Underhill told Sir Waldo with simple pride that Charlotte was just like she was herself.

  “It’s seldom I get a screw loose,” she said, “for, in general, you know, I go on in a capital way. But if there’s the least little thing amiss, such as a colicky disorder, it throws me into such queer stirrups that many’s the time when my late husband thought to see me laid by the wall for no more than an epidemic cold!”

  Sir Waldo called every day at Staples to enquire after Charlotte, but not until the fifth day was he rewarded by the sight of Miss Trent, and even then it was under inauspicious circumstances. The invalid was taking the air on the terrace, seated in a comfortable chair carried out for her accommodation, with her mother on one side; and her governess, holding up a parasol to protect her from the sun, on the other; and with Mrs Mickleby and her two eldest daughters grouped round her. When Sir Waldo was ushered on to the terrace by Totton Mrs Mickleby had already learnt from her hostess that he had been a regular visitor to Staples. She drew her own conclusions, rejecting without hesitation the ostensible reason of his daily visits.

  “So kind as he’s been you’d hardly credit!” Mrs Underhill told her, not without complacency. “Never a day passes but what he comes to enquire how Charlotte goes on, and it’s seldom that he don’t bring with him a book, or some trifle to amuse her, isn’t it, love? Well, Charlotte hasn’t any more of a fancy for reading than what I have, but she likes Miss Trent to read aloud to her, which she does beautifully, and as good as a play. Well, as I said to Sir Waldo only yesterday, it isn’t only Charlotte that’s very much obliged to him, for Miss Trent reads it after dinner to us, and I’m sure I couldn’t tell you which of us enjoys it the most, me, or Charlotte, or Tiffany. Well, it’s so lifelike that I couldn’t get to sleep last night for wondering whether that nasty Glossin would get poor Harry Bertram carried off by the smugglers again, or whether the old witch is going to save him—her and the tutor—which Tiffany thinks they’re bound to do, on account of its being near the end of the last volume.”

  “Oh, a novel!” said Mrs Mickleby. “I must confess I am an enemy to
that class of literature, but I daresay that you, Miss Trent, are partial to romances.”

  “When they are as well-written as this one, ma’am, most certainly!” returned Ancilla.

  “Oh, and he brought a dissected map!” Charlotte said. “I had never seen one before! It is all made of little pieces which fit into each other, to make a map of Europe!”

  The Misses Mickleby had not seen one either, so Miss Trent, feeling that she had a score to pay, advised their mama, very kindly, to procure one for them. “So educational!” she said. “And quite exceptionable!”

  Then Sir Waldo arrived, and although he did not single Miss Trent out for any particular attention Mrs Mickleby, who was just as quick as Mr Calver to recognize the signs of an affaire,was convinced that if she had not outstayed him he would have found an excuse to take Miss Trent to walk round the gardens, or some such thing.

  “And it’s my belief, sorry though I am to think it, that she would have gone with him,” she told Mrs Banningham later. “I was watching her closely, and I assure you, ma’am, she coloured up the instant his name was announced. I never saw anyone look more conscious!”

  “It doesn’t astonish me in the least,” replied Mrs Banningham. “There was always something about her which I couldn’t like. You,I know, took quite a fancy to her, but for my part I thought her affected. That excessive reserve, for instance, and her airs of gentility—!”

  “Oh, as to that,” said Mrs Mickleby, a trifle loftily, “the Trents are a very good family! That is what makes it so distressing to see her showing such a want of delicacy. All those rides! Of course, she was said to be playing propriety, but I thought at the time it was very odd, very imprudent!”

  “Imprudent!” said Mrs Banningham, with a snort. “Very sly, I call it! She has been on the catch for him from the outset. A fine thing it would be for her, without a penny to bless herself with! If he makes her an offer, which I don’t consider a certain thing at all. A carte blanche, possibly; marriage, no!”