Madcap Miss

by Joan Smith

  As soon as she stopped, Grandma tapped sharply on the glass to indicate she should continue. The gnarled hands, whirling in circles, suggested that the pace ought to be accelerated. It was impossible.

  Grace skipped on, panting, her throat aching from dryness. At last she spotted Whewett returning from his rounds and looking as fagged as she felt herself. He stared in consternation to see what she was being forced into. She used his arrival as an excuse to stop.

  “Poor Gussie! How did you get drawn into this cruel and unusual punishment?” he asked, but there was no ignoring the laughter in his voice. His sympathy was mixed with amusement, to see Miss Farnsworth with the perspiration standing in beads on her brow while she gasped for breath.

  “A present from Grandmama ... watching to see I make good use of it... at the window.” Her breath gave out, and she had to wait to recover it. “Whewett, I think I am having a heart attack. If I die, use my pay to see I get a decent Christian burial. My blood will be on your hands.”

  “My day has been as bad. No nag at the inn. I have carried Dobbin back from the west acres. How did the Bible quiz go?”

  “Short,” she said, still panting, “I took your advice. If you need help in managing your stables, I can tell you exactly what ration of feed you should be giving your cattle and anything else you want to know.”

  “Did you get a good lunch?”

  “A coddled egg. And I shan’t have the strength to lift a fork at dinner.”

  “I’ll feed you.”

  “Good. I’ll need all my energy for this strenuous work, which you foolish grownups call play. I got in some supplies for tonight’s incarceration.”

  “So did I. I brought you a meal from the inn. My groom will smuggle it to my valet, who will smuggle it to me, who will smuggle it through the door to you.”

  “Who will gratefully smuggle it to my mouth. What did—”

  “I’d best go in. She’s peering out at us.”

  “I’m going with you! I’ll have an apoplexy if I must skip another skip. If she tries to send me back, protect me, Papa. You know my frail constitution.”

  “How thankful I am that my Gussie is safe in Ireland.” Grace looked sulky at this thoughtless statement. “That was gauche of me. Come, I’ll protect you.”

  They entered together. Lady Healy made no move to put her favorite out for more air and exercise. She asked Whewett many questions about the estate, which he answered briefly.

  “It sounds as bad as my worst fears. I shall be lucky to get thirty-five hundred for it. It should bring five thousand easily.”

  “It will,” he assured her. “Prices are up since you were last here.”

  “The agent mentioned thirty-five.”

  “Then he quoted a sum that would allow him to sell it in a day. He must be anxious for his commission. Don’t take less than five thousand. It’s a warm day,” he said, mopping his brow. “Is there any ale?”

  “An excellent idea. We’ll both have one,” Lady Healy said.

  “I am thirsty, too,” Grace chimed in swiftly.

  “Pity I hadn’t thought to have Mulkins make you more lemonade, but there is plenty of milk. Milk is good for you.”

  The beverages were brought. Grace was handed a glass of lukewarm milk. “It’s warm,” she said, looking with envy at the ale. Beads of condensation had formed on the glasses, lending the ale an appetizing look.

  “That’s good,” the hostess said. “You should always drink your milk warm. It is easier to digest. You don’t want to go putting cold drinks into your stomach when you are het up. They will give you cramps.”

  “You’re having a cold drink,” Grace pointed out.

  “We are grown-up. Once the system is developed, it can handle anything. Now drink up your milk, and stop whining.”

  Whewett looked as if he would like to object, but he said nothing. The milk was unappetizing. Grace feared she would actually be sick to her stomach if she drank it. She set it aside while the others drank their ale. Lady Healy soon observed her trick and commanded her to drink it up. Grace took a tiny sip.

  “All of it. Finish it off,” Grandma decreed. Grace drank, turning pale with the effort.

  “That will be enough for her,” Whewett said when she was half-finished.

  “She wants physicking, that’s what ails her,” Lady Healy decided. “Travel always destroys the digestion. Her appetite was excellent yesterday. When a girl goes off her feed, she wants physicking. Lucky I have my blue pills with me.” She pulled the bell cord and ordered Molly to get the blue pills from Mulkins.

  “I don’t want a physic!” Grace insisted, but was talked down.

  Whewett mentally weighed the warm milk against the pill, and thought the pill the lesser of two evils, so he said nothing. When it arrived, it was seen to be only slightly smaller than a plover’s egg, but it was soon being forced down Grace’s throat. Grandma rattled on about Gussie’s poor health.

  “The child needs exercise, Alfred. She has no wind. She was gasping like a fish on land after only half an hour with the rope. I used to skip all day when I was her age and never got winded. I knew how it would be and gave her the rope to build her up. You shall have an hour a day with the rope, missie, and see if we don’t get some roses in those cheeks. Don’t let her mope around the house all day playing with dolls, Alfred.”

  “I wish I had a doll,” Grace exclaimed in a fit of defiance. “I would rather have had a doll than a rope.”

  “Sauce! The chit has no manners. You want to take a switch to her shoulders. It is clear you never punish her as you ought. She does just as she pleases with you. My papa would have warmed my backside if I had ever spoken so rudely.”

  “Augusta is a little out of sorts,” Whewett said, with a warning look at Grace.

  “And another thing,” Lady Healy ranted on, “she don’t know her Bible stories as a Christian should. We shall put her on a regime. An hour with the rope, an hour with her Bible, a good nap in the afternoon, plenty of milk, and early to bed. We shall administer a stronger physic, too, if the blue pill don’t work.”

  “Papa!” Grace said, looking to Whewett for protection. He sat on, nodding his agreement.

  “Your grandmother is right, dear.”

  She held in all her spleen, but she looked ready to explode. If it had been for longer than one more day, she would have rebelled, but for one day more she could stand it. A hundred pounds, she repeated silently to herself. Three hundred and sixty-five days of Mrs. Bixworth. It was worth it.

  “There, she is in the sulks,” Lady Healy declared. “Run along to your room, missie. If you cannot control your temper, you have no business sitting with adults. Your manners are so poor, you shall eat in your room tonight.”

  It was not yet five o’clock. This sounded as if she was being sent there for the entire evening. She opened her mouth to object.

  “Quite right, Grandma,” Whewett said. “Her manners are sadly wanting. Let her stay in her room till she has had dinner. If she is good, we shall let her come down and play to us later.” As soon as the speech was out, he fell to wondering if Miss Farnsworth could play.

  Her reply reassured him. “May I? I was looking at the music on the pianoforte earlier and would like to try it.”

  “If you are good,” Grandma said, then dismissed her.

  As soon as she was gone, the old lady turned to Whewett with a twinkle in her rheumy old eyes. “She has bottom, the rascal. Wanted to cut up at me and at you, too. I like her excessively, Alfred. If she were not my granddaughter, I would adopt her. You have taught her a little something about stable management, I am happy to see.”

  For Lady Healy to admit that anyone but herself knew anything about a horse was an admission of no small magnitude. He was happy Miss Farnsworth had passed this important test. “She is fond of riding,” he said.

  “But she ain’t a tomboy, and that is all to the good. She is cross with me. I shall buy her a present. She wants a doll. You must do it for me
, but let her know it is my present. Take her to the village tomorrow and get her one.”

  “That is not necessary,” he said, wishing to avoid the village, especially in Miss Farnsworth’s company.

  “Do it, I say!”

  “Gussie has dozens of dolls.”

  “She does not have one from me, and she hasn’t got one with her.”

  “I should finish assessing Willowcrest tomorrow, Grandma. I cannot stay much longer.”

  “Pshaw! I never see you for years on end. Take your time about the estate. It will all be Gussie’s one day. We don’t want to gyp her by undervaluing it.”

  Whewett was so cheered to hear the estate was destined for his daughter that he agreed to stay, though he knew it would be hard on Miss Farnsworth. She was having a worse time then he had ever envisioned. A break, a trip to the village, might please her. There was no real danger in it.

  When he went to his room to change for dinner, he tapped on her door and was admitted. She had been fed early and was just setting aside her tray. “I hope a full stomach puts you in a good mood,” he said.

  “When my stomach is full of pig’s cheek and bread pudding, it is not likely to do so. The adults’ dinner was not ready. I have been fed the servants’ meal. Even at Bixworths’ I never had to eat bread pudding.”

  “It won’t be for much longer. Only a few days,” he said placatingly.

  “A few days! Surely we leave tomorrow! You said two days when we began.”

  “I’m dashed sorry, Miss Farnsworth. Something’s come up.”

  A worried frown flew to her brow. “Have I ruined everything? Oh, I am sorry, but to have to drink warm milk, nearly sour, and that enormous blue pill!”

  “I am the one who should apologize. I am really damnably sorry. You haven’t ruined anything. Quite the contrary. She likes a show of spirits. Actually ...”

  He blushed to mention giving a doll to a grown woman and said vaguely, “There are a few estate matters to tend to, but the whole is to go to Augusta, and I cannot be too abrupt with her.”

  “Is it indeed? I am happy for you. Not so happy with the regime she is setting up for me, but—”

  “It won’t be so bad. We are to be allowed into the village tomorrow afternoon. We’ll make a long stay of it to give you a respite. We must be cautious, but no one there knows us, so there can be no harm.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “I know you’re having a devil of a time. I didn’t think it would be this bad, but really, you are doing a marvelous job. A professional actress couldn’t do half so well. She was mighty impressed with your knowledge of stable management. And I was a fool to ask you to play for us before learning whether you could.”

  “Lord Whewett, all ladies play the pianoforte. Badly, most of us, but we must have the rudiments, you know, or we may not call ourselves ladies. Perhaps you don’t think I really am a lady?” she asked, and scrutinized him closely.

  “You were at pains to make me believe you were a child,” he answered, which told her nothing. “I must wash and change. Lord, I’m bushed. There is nothing so tiring as dragging along on a glue pot.”

  “Try skipping for an hour in the sun.”

  “The early nights won’t be so hard to take after all.” He went to the door, waggled his fingers, and left.

  Grace sat on, thinking. He hadn’t answered her question. Did Whewett think that, at bottom, she was nothing more than an adventuress? She had capitulated too easily to his bizarre request to play his daughter.

  And what did it matter what he thought of her anyway? He would pay her salary; of that she had no doubts. But still she wished he would not think ill of her after the charade was over.

  Chapter Five

  It was after seven before Grace was called to the saloon, by which time she had already eaten an apple and three bonbons and was curious to discover what food Whewett had brought her from the inn.

  As soon as she entered the room, she was ordered to the pianoforte, where she acquitted herself as well as could be expected on an instrument that had not been tuned for fifteen years. She had a pretty voice, not outstandingly beautiful, but more than acceptable to a slightly deaf grandmother and a very grateful widower.

  “You play well, Augusta. There will be something else to add to your regime,” Lady Healy told her. “You shall have an hour a day to cure you of that habit you have picked up of racing ahead with the right hand. I believe you left out some sharps and flats, too, for some of the notes sounded very odd, but it was a genteel performance. A lady ought not to play too well.”

  This addition to the regime was welcome, and Grace smiled her satisfaction. Whewett pointed out that the piano’s being out of tune was to blame for the sour notes, which incited the dame to inform him the piano could not be held to blame for the wrong notes sung.

  Their little altercation was interrupted by a caller at the door, which caused Grace to suffer a tremble. It was only the estate agent, Bronfman, come to tell them he had a party interested in looking at Willowcrest.

  “Daugherty is the name, from Kent. They have been on the lookout for something in the neighborhood, so I called them. They can be here in four days, if that suits you, milady?”

  “Excellent, it allows time to have the girls give the place a good scouring,” Lady Healy agreed.

  “I cannot stay that long,” Whewett mentioned, but saw no reason why his presence should be necessary.

  The hour for inspection was set, three o’clock in the afternoon; then Bronfman left. Lady Healy discussed what must be done to the house. “Some girls hired from the village to wax and polish, to smarten us up.” When Whewett politely declined the furnishings of the house, she decided to sell the place furnished.

  This settled, she next turned to Augusta, to begin a series of impertinent questions regarding her studies. “Do you know how to add, subtract, multiply?” When told that Augusta was an accomplished mathematician, she fired off numbers that a lady of two and twenty had no difficulty in answering. An old French text was discovered on a shelf and pushed into Grace’s hands for her to translate. This also was successful.

  “She ain’t a complete ignoramus, I am happy to see. This Invers must be a decent creature.”

  All too soon it was eighty-thirty. Already Lady Healy had glanced thrice at the long-case clock in the corner. Her third look made clear the clock had stopped, but she was too proud to admit her sight was failing.

  “Time for bed, Augusta. Don’t forget the teeth and your prayers. Body and soul, you see. Come and kiss me goodnight before you go.” Grace kissed the aged cheek. “Your papa, too,” she was reminded.

  As she advanced to Whewett, she noticed he was wearing that smile she was coming to know well, half laughing at her, half pitying her predicament, and half-admiring of her performance.

  When she leaned toward him, he kissed her just at the corner of her lips. “Good night, Doll,” he said. There was no roughness of a day’s growth of beard. Had he shaved before dinner? How odd. He hadn’t bothered last night.

  When Grace went to her room, she wondered if Whewett planned to sneak out after Grandma retired. Was that why he had shaved? Had he met some lightskirt in the village while he was at the inn? He didn’t seem that sort of gentleman, but then he was a widower and away from home. Perhaps she’d tease him about it.

  In the Purple Saloon Lady Healy smiled her satisfaction. “She is a lovely lass, Alfred.”

  “Yes, I am proud of her.”

  “I have been thinking, as those Kent people are coming so soon to see the place, you might as well stay.”

  “It is not at all convenient for me. I told you so when Bronfman mentioned four days.”

  “It would be in every way better if you would ride about the place with Daugherty. Must be Irish, eh, with a name like that? Bronfman will try to take advantage of me. He’ll point out the worst features.”

  “He’ll hardly do that. He’s trying to sell.”

  “What I mea
n is, Daugherty will mention them, and Bronfman will make it an excuse to lower my price. I need a man to protect my interests. It may make a thousand difference in the price.”

  Whewett frowned. “I have things I should be doing at home.”

  “Surely your daughter’s welfare is of equal importance!” she pointed out curtly.

  “Of course, but--”

  “You’ll stay, then.”

  “Yes, Grandmama. I’ll drop my man of business a note tonight.”

  “Good. Now we must discuss the Scotland properties. I have promised five thousand to the Hunt Club there. My Willie started it up, you know. It is to be endowed in his name. The balance of what I possess is for Gussie. I mean to remain in Scotland till I die. It is my home. Once I am gone, however, you will want to dispose of the property and get the money. It is the sensible course. Bruce MacKinnon, a neighbor, has dropped hints he is interested. Don’t give it away. It is worth ten thousand.”

  “Yes, I’ll arrange it. Gussie would have no use for a Scottish property.”

  This innocent remark caused his companion to turn querulous. “It seems not, as she was never once allowed to visit Scotland in twelve years. She should have come at least once. She ain’t sickly, and she ain’t shy. Why did you keep her from me?”

  “I couldn’t send her alone, and you know I am busy.”

  ‘‘You could have sent her with Invers. I have an excellent opinion of Invers. She has trained Gussie well.”

  Of course he could not tell the truth, but he must say something. “Gussie is pretty young yet.”

  “I ain’t! If she is ever to come, it must be soon.”

  “Yes,” he said, to have done with the subject.

  “Good, I am glad you agree with me. I shall have Mulkins prepare my posset and bring it to my room. I am for the tick, Alfred. I ain’t much company for you, I fear. Help me out of this demmed chair. The chairs are all too low in this house.”

  He hauled her up, called Mulkins, then helped her upstairs. Within minutes, he was tapping at Grace’s door. Her room was cheerier with more candles to relieve the heavy shadows. She was happier, too, with a copy of Richardson’s Pamela open before her.