“If that would be agreeable to you.”
“Most certainly.” He had gone this far. Why not venture further? He cleared his throat. “If you are in need of an escort, perhaps you would consider me?”
“Indeed I would.” She looked down upon the nearly empty dessert plate she held in her lap.
Averil could barely contain his delight. First, Cecily had extended him an unexpected dinner invitation, and now this. He could hardly conceal his eagerness, although as a gentleman, he knew he must. “Are you sure your parents won’t mind? After all, your mother didn’t seem too pleased with me this afternoon when I soiled her rug.”
Cecily giggled, although her mirth seemed a bit shaky. “She’ll recover. And I’m sure Father won’t mind.”
Averil wasn’t so sure, but he knew if he didn’t seize the opportunity, he would lose any chance of seeing Cecily in the future. “All right. I’ll go. In fact, I’d be delighted.”
And why not? He had every intention of compensating them for the rug. And no one seemed to mind his presence at the dinner table.
Cecily took a bite of pie as her cheeks flushed pink. “Of course, you will mention our date to Father, won’t you?” she asked after brushing the cloth napkin against her full, pink lips.
Averil swallowed. First, he had to make payment on the rug. Now, he had to ask permission to take Cecily to the Celebration of Spring event. He’d be packing his bags before sundown. “Certainly I’ll mention it,” he assured Cecily with more bravado than he felt.
In response, she averted her eyes to the last bit of apple pie remaining on her plate. A shy smile crossed her lips. Taking the risk would be worth it, after all. She rose from her seat. “I suppose we’d better take these things back inside.”
Averil regretted seeing their time on the verandah come to an end. He set his plate, cup, and saucer on the tray. “Here. Let me help you with that.”
He followed Cecily back into the house, down the hall, and into the dining room.
“An excellent meal once again, my dear,” Mr. Eaton was saying to his wife.
“Thank you.” She looked pleased with herself. Averil wondered why, since she had done little but rave throughout the meal about how she had the best cook in the city. It wasn’t as though she had prepared the dinner herself. Yet, his mother always behaved in the same manner. He supposed that was the way of all women.
Hattie seemed to appear from out of nowhere to take the tray from Averil. His murmured thanks seemed to attract Mr. Eaton’s notice.
“There you are, Mr. Kingsley. I suppose it’s time for us to tend to our business.” He sent Averil a knowing look, and then set his gaze in the direction of the foyer. The time of reckoning had arrived. Wordlessly, Cecily, her parents, and Averil proceeded to the area where the damage had been done. He was thankful the foyer was large.
“Where’s the rug?” Averil asked. “Has it already been sent out for cleaning?”
“It’s been hung out on the clothes line to dry,” Mrs. Eaton said.
“Mr. Kingsley, would you mind showing me which electrical wall sconce you used to demonstrate your pneumatic carpet renovator?” Mr. Eaton asked.
Averil pointed to the one in question.
“That’s what I thought.” He nodded. “Mr. Kingsley, that sconce doesn’t work properly. I’m sorry my wife and daughter weren’t aware of that fact. If they had been, this whole unfortunate incident could have been avoided. That is why I won’t hold you or the Capital Duster Company responsible for the fate of our rug.”
Averil wanted to hear Mr. Eaton repeat the verdict, just in case he had misheard. “You won’t?”
“No, I won’t.” He extended his hand to seal the agreement.
Accepting his hand, Averil felt as though the weight of the Capital Duster Model 1045 had been lifted from his shoulders. “So you mean to say that my pneumatic carpet renovator works just fine?”
Mr. Eaton chuckled. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise you it almost certainly wouldn’t have worked with this sconce.”
Cecily rocked back and forth excitedly from heel to toe. “So you can buy a Capital Duster for Mother, after all?”
“I didn’t say I wanted one yet,” Mother said. Her doubtful words belied the pleading expression she sent her husband.
Mr. Eaton rubbed his chin. “I suppose, under the circumstances, I will allow you to demonstrate your machine.”
“I’d be delighted, except I don’t have it with me at the moment.”
“That’s understandable. Would you be willing to stop by on Monday morning?”
“Would I!” Averil realized he sounded like a schoolboy being offered a lollipop. He composed himself before he spoke again. “Yes, I would. Thank you for extending me another chance, Mr. Eaton.”
“Certainly. I’m obliged to you, since our faulty sconce was partly to blame for the mishap.”
Averil wanted to ask about the Celebration of Spring as he had promised Cecily, but he had the feeling he’d better not press his luck. Instead, he bid the family farewell. As soon as his feet hit the walk, he whistled a happy tune.
❧
“Augusta!” Cecily said excitedly to her sister the next morning. “Did you see the morning mail? There’s a letter from Professor Tobias!” She crooked her finger, motioning Augusta to follow her into the kitchen.
“A letter? But he sees us every week. Why would he be writing to us?”
“I don’t know,” Cecily answered as they approached the kitchen table, where the mail had been left unattended. “It’s addressed to Father.”
Augusta lifted the letter in question out of the pile and studied it before handing it to Cecily. She took in a breath with such gusto that a one-note tune escaped her lips. “What do you think it’s about?”
“I have no idea, but it looks as though he used formal writing paper. It must be important.”
Augusta took Cecily by the hand and led her to the music room. “I can’t wait until Father reads it!” Augusta nearly jumped with joy. “Maybe he’s asking if he can court me! Wouldn’t that be just wonderful?” In her excitement, Augusta sat at the piano and began playing a lively tune.
Cecily watched her sister’s fingers move across the keys, stopping now and again when she stumbled over the notes. She wondered what her lovely sister saw in Professor Tobias. He seemed to cultivate his image with precision. Apparently he wanted the world to think of him as the careless intellectual. Often he arrived for their lessons without the proper sheets of music. While rummaging through a stack of papers to look for them, he could still manage to deliver a delightful biography of one of the masters of classical music.
A lock of blond hair was forever hanging loosely over his spectacles so that he was in constant need of swiping it away. His wardrobe appeared haphazard. Though always clean and with his shirt collars properly starched, the pieces did not always match well, and his suit coats had the look of garments whose owner economized by using them as pajamas. Nevertheless, if Professor Tobias was the man of her sister’s dreams, Cecily wasn’t about to discourage her. If she were to assess him with kindness in mind, Cecily supposed Professor Tobias offered a certain kind of charm, in his way.
“Yes, that would be wonderful, Augusta.”
“Just think,” Augusta said, “we will begin courting almost exactly the same day.”
Suddenly chagrined, Cecily nervously twisted a loose strand of hair with her forefinger. “What do you mean?”
Augusta stopped playing. “Mr. Kingsley, of course! I overheard you invite him to the Celebration of Spring.”
Cecily’s forefinger immediately journeyed to the front of her puckered lips. “Shhh! No one is supposed to know that. Mother would be appalled if she knew I invited him. She wouldn’t think it proper for a lady.”
“Then I suppose a proper lady sits at home alone,” Augusta noted. “He’s new to the city. If you hadn’t told him about the celebration, how would he have known about it?”
C
ecily hadn’t thought of that. “Father is bound to suspect something when Averil asks him about it.”
“On a firstname basis, I see.” Augusta’s eyebrows shot up.
“Only in my mind. We really don’t know each other at all.”
Augusta put her hand on Cecily’s shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about Father suspecting anything. He’ll never think twice about it.” Augusta sighed. “I do so admire you, Cecily. I would never have the nerve to ask a man to escort me to the Celebration of Spring.” She began playing once more.
“You wouldn’t?” Doubt colored Cecily’s voice. “Yet you have enough nerve to tighten your corset when it’s time for Professor Tobias to give us a voice lesson.”
Augusta straightened herself, then gave Cecily a sideways glance as she continued to play. “Do you think he notices?”
“I doubt he notices much of anything. But if that letter says what we think it does, then you’ve been successful in garnering his attention.”
Their mother called from the kitchen. “Augusta! May we see you a moment?”
“Yes, Mother!” Augusta answered. She turned to Cecily. “I wonder if they’ve read the letter?”
“I’m sure that’s why they want to see you.”
“Come with me. I don’t want you to miss this!” Augusta clasped her hands just underneath her chin and looked at the ceiling dreamily. “Imagine! Me, Augusta Eaton, one day being called Mrs. Osmond Tobias!” She let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Let’s see how the courtship progresses first.” Cecily laughed.
When the girls reached the kitchen, neither of their parents looked happy. Father was lingering over a half-filled cup of coffee, and Mother was still nibbling on a slice of toasted bread. Usually this was a pleasant time for the elder Eatons. With their children pursuing their own weekend interests, the couple spent this time in solitude, renewing their relationship and relishing each other’s company. For them to summon Augusta, or any of the children, was highly unusual. When she saw her father’s sour expression, Cecily knew the letter’s contents could not be good.
“We only called Augusta,” Mother reminded them when she saw Cecily.
“I told her to come with me, Mother.”
Father’s eyebrows shot up. “So you were expecting some news?”
“Not especially.” Augusta cast her gaze to the table as though she were taking great interest in the nearly empty pitcher of juice. Yet the Eaton children were never successful in keeping secrets from their parents. “Cecily did tell me that a letter from Os—Professor Tobias—arrived by post this morning.”
“I see. And you think it contains good news?”
“I hope so.” Augusta looked at Father with hopeful eyes.
“No doubt,” Father observed. “Would you like to see what your instructor has to say, Augusta?”
As her younger sister nodded and took the letter from Father, Cecily clenched her teeth in worry. If Professor Tobias wanted to court Augusta, why would their father be so agitated? Cecily looked at Augusta as she read the letter to herself, hoping to see a glimmer of happiness on her face.
Instead, Augusta threw the letter on the floor and ran out of the room.
Four
What could Professor Tobias have written in his letter to vex Augusta so much? Cecily wondered. She could see how besotted her younger sister had become with the music teacher. She took special pains to look her best on music lesson day. An hour before the lesson was to begin, Augusta donned one of her best day dresses and then positioned herself in front of her vanity mirror. She assessed herself with care and then pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring the blood to the surface for color. Even though the result of such efforts was short-lived, Augusta didn’t seem to mind punishing her poor face.
Cecily shuddered whenever she witnessed Augusta’s actions. Her own cheeks looked nothing like fresh apples, nor did her lips resemble robust pink roses. Still, she couldn’t imagine imposing such voluntary torture on her own features. Not for any man. Not even for Averil Kingsley.
Averil Kingsley! Whatever was she thinking?
She returned her thoughts to her sister and her strange music lesson day rituals. On every other day of the week, Augusta whooshed her hair into an indifferent bun, but Saturdays brought about quite a fuss. Each Friday evening, Augusta pored over Mother’s ladies periodicals and studied pictures of new hairstyles. Then she would do her best to imitate them. The result was a muchimproved look. Cecily thought to suggest that her sister should style her hair with as much care every other day of the week, but thought better of it.
Cecily rooted for her sister, hoping Professor Tobias would recognize her efforts. While in Cecily’s eyes, he wasn’t the most attractive man on earth, apparently her sister saw him in a different light. Cecily shook her head as she recalled his features. Sparse blond hair and black-rimmed spectacles accentuating an anemic countenance did nothing to make Cecily swoon. Yet his presence pleased Augusta. Their parents couldn’t object to his lineage, even though Cecily speculated that he could barely scratch out a living on the money he made from teaching music. Why, Professor Tobias should be honored that Augusta cared a whit about him. Augusta would have cherished a love letter, giggled over it, read it and reread it, kept it in a special, secret place. No, this was no message of love.
Then what was it?
Cecily rushed to retrieve the abandoned letter, but paused when she remembered propriety. “May I read the letter, Father?”
He hesitated. A sigh escaped his lips. “I suppose you may as well. You’ll find out soon enough, anyway.”
Cecily unfolded the plain white stationery. Professor Tobias’s handwriting appeared as she expected it would, with perfectly formed, small letters:
Dear Mr. Eaton,
This past Friday morning marked the second anniversary of the first day I began teaching your daughters the joys and challenges of performing song. Our lessons have been my privilege and pleasure.
Allow me to compliment your elder daughter. Miss Cecily’s voice is a delight to the ears. Not only is she blessed with a wide range, but also she is successful in the execution of any song I present to her. I must say I am pleased with her continued accomplishment on the piano as well.
Miss Augusta is another matter. While she is a delightful girl, her lack of progress indicates that she fails to take her lessons, either in voice or piano, as seriously as Miss Cecily. I understand you are free to disagree with my assessment and seek to employ another instructor for her. However, unless Miss Augusta undertakes a dramatic increase in practice, she has reached the pinnacle of her accomplishment with the piano. Because of its limited range, I cannot anticipate that her voice will develop into one of an accomplished and talented singer. Please accept my assurances that if she continues to keep in practice with the occasional song, Miss Augusta should enjoy years of singing as a pleasurable enough pastime among close friends and family.
Because it is my belief that it is beyond my capabilities to impart any additional knowledge or skill to Miss Augusta, with much regret I have reached the unfortunate conclusion that for me to continue lessons with her would be an unwise use of your resources and her talents, which might better be applied to the pleasurable and ladylike skills of needlecraft or the arrangement of flowers. May this letter serve as a formal dismissal of Miss Augusta.
However, it would be my great honor and pleasure to continue instructing Miss Cecily. I expect to see her next Saturday.
Thank you for your indulgence and understanding.
Yours,
Osmond Tobias
Cecily gasped. “Father, no! Now I can understand why Augusta is upset!”
“No wonder,” he agreed. “Although I must admit, Augusta’s talents with song are limited.” He winced.
“How heartless of Professor Tobias, all the same.”
“I agree,” Mother added.
Cecily placed the letter on the table. “I must console her. May I?”
> He nodded. “Please do.”
“It is quite distressing,” Mother agreed. “Please, Cecily, see if you can help.”
“Yes, Mother.” Without another moment’s hesitation, Cecily hurried up the stairs to her sister’s room. She wasn’t surprised to see that the door was shut. She turned the knob and found it was locked as well. She knocked. “Augusta?”
No answer.
“Augusta! I know you’re there.”
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to anybody. Especially you, Cecily.” Icicles seemed to hang from her words.
Cecily half choked and then muttered, “That awful man! I’ll never let him come between my sister and me!”
She stepped quickly to her own room and made her way to her vanity. She hadn’t used her skeleton key in awhile, so it took a few moments to retrieve it from under several pairs of silk stockings. She rushed back to her sister’s room and knocked again.
“Open the door,” Cecily commanded. “This is your last chance.”
“You are not my mother,” Augusta answered. “I shall open the door when I’m good and ready.”
“Very well then. I warned you.” Cecily used her key to enter.
As soon as she saw her sister, she regretted her action. Augusta was lying in a heap on her bed, her beige cotton dress blending with the down comforter. Her face was buried in a pillow, which was partially concealed by unfettered blond locks. Augusta’s slim frame shook with sobs.
Cecily strode over to Augusta’s bed and knelt beside it. She placed a loving hand on her sister’s shoulder.
Augusta turned her face in Cecily’s direction. “How did you get in here?”
Cecily held up the key.
Augusta sneered and then buried her face back into the pillow. “I told you I don’t want to see anybody,” she mumbled into the cloth-covered goose down. “Especially not you.”
“What did I do?” Cecily sat on the edge of the bed.
“Didn’t you read the letter? He still wants to keep you. Apparently he thinks you’re far superior to me in both voice and piano.” Augusta broke out into fresh sobs.
Loveswept Page 4