by D. L. Carter
“It is excellent,” said Millicent, in due time, “as you well know. It is cohesive, moderate in decoration, harmonious in color, and altogether lovely, just as you are.”
Beth blushed and folded her hands together.
“I do thank you,” she said. “It was my mother's favorite room when we lived here. I have not changed much, merely moving furniture. I am not here long enough to redecorate. Even though it is not my work, I was concerned. I know not why your good opinion means so much to me.”
“Neither do I,” shot back Millicent.
“She does not believe me when I tell her something is good,” said Shoffer with a pitiable expression on his face.
“That is because you are my brother and you love me,” said Beth. “You would never suggest that anything I did was wrong for fear of hurting my feelings.”
“Yes, Shoffer. Learn your lesson,” said Millicent. “You should be cruel and precise so that your sister will always know you speak the truth.”
“I am instructed,” said Shoffer and bestowed such a smile on Millicent that she needed to turn away to cover her blush.
It was more painful than she had imagined to stand in the same room as him and have him look upon her so warmly.
“I cannot remember why we thought it was a good idea to invite him,” added Shoffer, ignoring Millicent's momentary distraction.
“Neither can I,” said Beth.
“Ah, but more important, you should wonder why I accepted,” said Millicent.
Beth and Shoffer exchanged a glance.
“Well, I shall admit to curiosity,” said Shoffer. “Was it the chance to enjoy the splendor of the ducal manor? I admit it is nothing to your tenant’s home in Wales. Indeed, I am ashamed to show it to you, so mean are the rooms and deficient the planned entertainments.”
“Nothing indeed,” laughed Millicent since the duke’s estate was a massive building of locally quarried stone, blessed with rooms the size of other people’s houses. “I hope you will forgive me, Your Grace, but I came only in the hope of meeting the inestimable Mr. Simpson.”
The corners of Shoffer’s lips turned down in mock sorrow.
“Now I know my true status. I take second place to my secretary, whom you have never met,” said Shoffer. “He is in the study at the moment, hard at work. Why do you wish to meet him?”
“Well, on the day I received your kind invitation, I also received a note from my cousin Felicity. It seems she has been giving the matter of her daughters’ futures much thought and has decided that nothing will do but I take the girls to London for the season. And may God have mercy on my soul.”
Beth clapped her hands together. “Excellent. That is good news.”
“My deepest sympathy, North,” said Shoffer offering a hand to be shaken. “I have but one lady to be married off, but you are burdened with two. The horror!”
“Thank you for your understanding, Your Grace.” Millicent inclined her head and arranged her features in an expression of beatific suffering.
“Oh, what nonsense you men talk,” said Beth. “You have not spoken of your family before, Mr. North. Who will you be launching into society?”
“My widowed cousin, Mrs. Felicity Boarder and her two remaining daughters, Mildred and Maude. The other daughter, Millicent, died last year, but her mother still speaks of her as if expecting her to return from some errand at any moment.”
“Oh, how sad,” said Beth. “I am sorry for it. But tell me…”
“Come now, Beth, you have said hello to Mr. North. Now you must allow him a moment to refresh himself and prepare for luncheon.” Shoffer came to his feet. “Simpson is the ideal person to help. If anyone can give you useful advice, it will be him. Although, it is possible his advice will be that you hie yourself to Scotland and hide for a year or two.”
“A London season is not so very bad,” declared Beth.
Shoffer turned and bestowed a fond smile on his sister. Millicent's breath caught in her throat at the beauty of his face at that moment. Angels from on high coming to bless mankind should look upon their suffering with such love and beneficence as Shoffer did upon his sister. It broke Millicent's heart that she would never have that face, that love, turned upon her.
“I am so glad to hear you say that, Beth,” said Shoffer, and when Beth blushed he caught her hand and continued. “Between the two of us, we should be able to advance the cause of North's cousins. That will be fun, will it not?”
“It will,” said Beth, holding herself confidently. “I look forward to guiding your cousins through the season, Mr. North.” Then she looked concerned. “They are not so very much older than me, are they? I would not want them to laugh at my presumption.”
Millicent paused before answering. “Far be it from me to estimate any lady’s age, whether young or old. Let me only say you are taller.”
Beth laughed at that.
“Very well done. I must remember that one,” said Shoffer and gestured toward the door.
Millicent bowed to Beth and followed him out. In the corridor Shoffer caught her across the shoulders and pulled her sideways into a brief embrace before setting her back on her feet.
“North, you have no idea how this aids me. I was wondering how I should be able to persuade Beth to go back for a season after the horrible experience my grandmother inflicted upon her; and now she is eager to return to the fray.”
“My reasons are entirely selfish,” said Millicent, turning her face away to hide her blushes, “and encroaching, I do admit it. Mrs. Fleming's ill opinion of me is confirmed.”
“No matter if it is,” said Shoffer. “I have to go down, anyway, for Parliament. Squiring three girls about to entertainments will be no deal more difficult than one, especially if we undertake the task together.”
Millicent halted and stared up at Shoffer. “You have not spent much time in the company of young women, have you, Your Grace?”
“I shall speak to Simpson on your behalf.” With that Shoffer struck her across the back and strode off.
Millicent brushed her hand over her shoulder, sighed, and thought herself all sorts of fool. How pitiable was her case if she hugged to herself the knowledge that her loved one had touched her when that touch was a brotherly hug?
* * *
They were gathered together in the hall, wandering toward the informal dining room for luncheon, when Beth returned to the subject of the season.
“When shall you be arriving in London, Mr. North?”
“I hardly know. A week or so before the festivities, I imagine, to permit the womenfolk to beggar me with their purchases,” said Millicent. “That is, if the talented Mr. Simpson is able to find me a suitable house to rent. He informed Shoffer that I have left it far too late, it being a mere four months before the start of the season. All the best houses have been reserved since the year before last. I fear that all that is left is London Bridge, under the last arch, on the right side.”
Beth laughed, then put on a sad face. “I grieve that I will not be able to call on you if you are forced to reside under a bridge. We can only hope that a suitable house will be found; and then I promise I shall call on your cousin and her daughters.”
“Excellent. That is most gracious of you, Lady Beth. Before you arrive, I shall advise them that you have brought bent brim and wilted hats into fashion so that they will be suitably equipped and not be ashamed to greet you.”
“Oh, what nonsense you talk,” said Beth, as her brother choked.
“It is merely the truth,” cried Millicent, leaping to her feet and bowing. “If you were to wear your hat backwards, one sleeve long, the other short, and begin walking down the street sideways, why within a week, we would see a progression of ladies on Bond Street, shuffling sideways like sea crabs.”
Millicent affected a feminine air, her nose tilted toward the ceiling, and began to shuffle sideways, dragging her trailing leg along the carpet. Chuckling, Shoffer made his bow to Millicent, then the two of them shuffl
ed sideways as if in the lines of a country dance.
“The pair of you are the most ridiculous individuals in Christendom,” declared Beth laughing.
“We are only trying to make you aware of your standing in society, my dearest,” said Shoffer, taking her hand and drawing her along.
“Oh, posh,” said Beth sadly. “I am an inconsequential thing. A barely out of the schoolroom miss.”
“Not so,” cried Millicent. With a dip and a twirl she took Beth's hand and paraded back in the other direction, Shoffer matching them step by step. “Why, you have no idea the joy you gave me when you said you would call upon my cousins. Have you no understanding of your power? Why, if my cousins, country misses that they are, are greeted by you on the street, even by the merest nod, then they shall receive invitations. Should you hold out your hand to them and declare yourself ‘pleased,’ they will have men dance with them. But should you raise your nose and glance away, well, I should immediately be seeking out convents, for the girls will never wed, no matter how sweet their dispositions.”
“I shall not have that power until I am suitably wed, so Grand’Mere said.”
“Your grandmother did not want you to know, but young, beautiful, unmarried, wealthy women have more power than any person in the kingdom, and I include the king in that,” said Millicent. “Why, with one lift of your eyebrow you will have a hundred men stampeding to your side. Should you express the existence of thirst, rivers shall be drained to bring you lemonade. In your honor, trees will be destroyed and ink pots emptied to create truly dreadful poetry.”
By this time both Beth and Shoffer were helpless with laughter. Millicent watched them both, his short dark curls bent close over her dignified up-swept coiffure, eyes so similar, dark blue crinkling at each other, and her heart warmed. She loved them both and had the comfort of knowing that each in their way was fond of Mr. North.
“There, dear one,” said Shoffer, when he had recovered his breath. “I know you do not believe me, but shall you believe this polite and indifferent acquaintance? You are the bright star of the ton.”
“And any marriage I should make shall be beneath me.”
Beth looked so downcast that Millicent's heart threatened to break.
“Oh, please, if that must be so,” said Millicent, “have the good grace to marry for love. Then you will not be troubled by rank or its absence.”
Beth fluttered her eyelashes and fan.
“Shall you marry me, dear Mr. North?”
Millicent recoiled in mock horror, her hand clutching at her clumsy cravat.
“Whatever have I done to you, Lady Beth, that you should want your brother to run me through?”
“Silly man. I can no longer deny my feelings and must give them speech. If I cannot wed with you, then I shall wed no one.”
Millicent collapsed to her knees before the snickering Shoffer.
“Your Grace, I do not know of what she speaks.”
Beth held out her hand in a graceful gesture a hundred actresses could only hope for.
“Oh, my love, be brave. Even if he visits a hundred tortures upon you, I know you will be true.”
“Not a bit of it,” cried Millicent, seizing hold of Shoffer's coat tails. “I repudiate you this instant.”
“Abandoned.” Beth pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “There is nothing for it than I must hie me to a river and throw myself in.”
Still kneeling, Millicent rested her head on her fist, then glanced up at Shoffer.
“You would ask me to teach her conversation, would not you? Why did you not warn me that she came over all Shakespearian when crossed?”
“With my last breath I forgive you, Mr. North,” declared Beth in a die away voice.
“And so do I,” said Shoffer, tapping Millicent on the head with his knuckles. “Do get up; there's a good fellow.”
Millicent climbed to her feet and tried to shake the creases out of her trousers.
“One good thing about going to London,” observed Beth. “You may take Mr. North to your tailor.”
“Oh, dear God, protect me,” groaned Millicent.
“What is going on here?” demanded a voice.
An elderly lady, no taller than Millicent's shoulder, descended the main staircase from the upper floor, then swept down the hall. Such a lady as this would never do anything as plebeian as to stand or walk; she progressed! She wore garb of dark blue silk in the current high-waisted fashion which flattered her slight figure, and a frown, which did not. The lady raised her lorgnette to her eyes and regarded Millicent with distaste starting at her barely polished boots and ending with hair that needed another cut.
“Your Grace,” said Shoffer in frosty tones, “I thought you said you would be taking a tray in your room, in protest of Mr. North's presence.”
“It is clear that someone must be here to ensure the proprieties are maintained,” was the reply. “Elizabeth, your color is too high. Have you been permitting your thoughts to be disordered? Calm yourself at once.”
“Yes, Grand’Mere.”
Beth folded her hands together, cast her gaze down, and all sign of humor vanished from her face.
“Grandmother, may I make my particular friend known to you?” Shoffer gestured towards Millicent. “Mr. Anthony North, this is my grandmother, Lady Philomena Shoffer, the Dowager Duchess of Trolenfield.”
“An honor! I am very glad to see you, Your Grace,” said Millicent, with a low bow.
“I cannot imagine why.”
If the duchess's voice were any colder Millicent was convinced all the windows in the great house would frost over. Nevertheless, Millicent cast a smile in Beth's direction and replied.
“Why, but for no other reason than now that you are here, His Grace must escort you in to dine, as he is the highest ranking male and you, the female. Which will leave to me the honor of having Lady Beth take my arm.”
From the shocked look on that lady's face it was obvious she had not thought through the consequences of her appearance.
“You shall not!” she said, at last.
“But it would be discourteous of me to permit her to walk so far without extending her the strength of my arm for the journey.”
Beth hid her grin behind her fan, but Shoffer did not bother and grinned openly at his grandmother's consternation.
“Shoffer, you should…” began the Duchess.
“Oh, no,” interrupted the duke. “You have lectured me at length about rank and precedence. My sister shall take Mr. North's arm and sit beside him and converse with him. To do less would be beneath the dignity of my table.”
Fuming, the dowager duchess took Shoffer's arm in a strangling grip, which only made the duke's smile broader. Millicent made the same elaborate bow she had made earlier to Beth, then extended her elbow toward the girl. With a pretty curtsy, Beth took it and they paraded into the dining room.
* * *
The meal was as miserable as the dowager could make it. She placed herself and Beth as far as she could down the table and addressed her comments exclusively to Shoffer. Whenever Beth would make a comment, the dowager would scowl and grumble until Beth fell silent. By the end of the meal she was barely raising her eyes from her plate.
In such a chilly atmosphere, no one was inclined to prolong the meal and as soon as the covers were removed Shoffer, Millicent, and Beth rose to excuse themselves. The dowager seized Beth's arm before the girl could escape.
“Elizabeth and I have much to discuss this afternoon. I am yet to hear her version of the events at the Harrington's house party.”
“I shall answer any questions you have,” said Shoffer.
“It is Elizabeth from whom I wish to hear.”
And with that she dragged Beth away. The girl cast one pitiable glance back over her shoulder to which the duke responded with a helpless shrug.
“What happened at the Harrington's?” asked Millicent.
Shoffer sighed. “Poor Beth, she was so bright a
nd cheerful when we first arrived. I was well pleased with her. She chatted and seemed on the way to making a few friends; then I noticed that she again was becoming withdrawn. By the end of our time there, she was as silent as ever she was in London.”
“Poor golden kitten,” said Millicent. “She lacks confidence and practice, I suspect. Did you observe anyone snubbing her?”
“Not a bit of it.” Shoffer shook his head, still gazing up the staircase. “She was quite popular at first. It did not last. The littlest thing would cast her down. The smallest look of surprise at her words, or hesitation by her dinner partner to respond to her jests, and she would fall silent for the rest of the day. Each day I saw her withdraw and there was nothing I could say in encouragement that restored her spirits. She only cheered up when she thought to invite you to visit.”
“I will help all I can.”
“Thank you. For now, I am worried what Lady Philomena will say. I hope she will exercise restraint.”
“I had not thought to have the honor of meeting the dowager,” said Millicent.
“Come along, North.” Shoffer draped an arm over Millicent's shoulder and turned her so they could walk together down the hall. “You should not have, except that the dowager appeared with no notice yesterday. I suspect, although I am yet to question her on the subject, that Mrs. Fleming is responsible for her appearance. No doubt a letter was sent once we received your acceptance.”
“No doubt,” muttered Millicent. “I find myself wondering why you keep Mrs. Fleming.”
“I would be rid of her if I could, but she is a very distant relative and has no other home.”
“Ah, empathy. ’Tis a pity she has none for Lady Beth.”
Shoffer led the way to a huge chamber whose function was not immediately clear to Millicent. There were books on a shelf, but not so many as to imply a library. Millicent wandered to the center of the room and turned, trying to figure the place out. It was not until Mr. Simpson appeared through a concealed side door bearing papers that she worked it out. This cavernous chamber was the study.