Miss Tibbles Interferes

by April Kihlstrom

  “Yes, but, we found him today hiding in that room. The colonel said he had been keeping secrets from us,” Ariel said doubtfully.

  “And so he has,” Mrs. Merriweather agreed. “But if you think over what was said, the colonel appears to know the man for whom Captain Stanfield is working. And he said that the captain has been trying to discover if there have been thefts at the museum. That is honorable, is it not?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “And he regrets Tom’s death and wishes he could help discover who killed your father as well as Tom. That is also honorable.”

  “Yes,” Ariel agreed reluctantly. “But why did he not confide in us? Why did he not confide in me?”

  Mrs. Merriweather began to laugh, much to Ariel’s indignation. After a moment, she drew a breath, however, and said, “You must understand, my dear, that men often feel they must keep secrets. Particularly from us. I have no doubt that the captain felt he was protecting you by not informing you why he was there. And I have no doubt he felt it a matter of honor as well, since he did not confide in the colonel, either, even when my husband gave him the chance to do so again today. No, no, you must not let such a thing as that stop you from caring about the captain.”

  Ariel hesitated. She had so many questions that she scarcely knew where to begin. “Am I foolish,” she said at last, “to allow myself to feel a tendre for the captain? Perhaps he is merely kind to me and feels nothing of the sort himself.”

  Mrs. Merriweather put a comforting arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Oh, my dear! One cannot choose where the heart will care! One can only choose what one will do about it. I cannot tell you for certain how the captain feels. He has not confided in me, and in any event, if he is like most men, he does not even know himself how he feels. I can only tell you that he looks at you as if he cares. And he seems, moreover, to be a good and honorable man. Though I will grant you that he seems a trifle wanting in wits if he did not realize he could trust us and Colonel Merriweather!”

  That made Ariel laugh. But then she paused. “Is that enough?” she asked. “Even if he should return my regard, how would I know whether what I felt was love? How will I know, whether it be Captain Stanfield or someone else, if this is a man with whom I should choose to spend my life?”

  It was Mrs. Merriweather’s turn to hesitate. “If you had to marry, if your father had left no provision for you, I might answer you differently. But as matters stand, you certainly need not settle for just any man who asks for your hand in marriage.”

  Mrs. Merriweather paused and stepped away from Ariel to pace about the room. After a moment, she turned, faced her, and took a deep breath. “I cannot tell you, my dear,” she said, “how to be certain that what you feel is love. What I do think matters as much, or perhaps even more, is how you feel about yourself when you are with a man—whether it be Captain Stanfield or anyone else. Do you feel you must become someone else to please him, or are you able to be who you truly are? Do you like the qualities he encourages in you?”

  “The colonel objects when you try to investigate,” Ariel pointed out doubtfully.

  “Yes, but he knows he cannot truly stop me,” Mrs. Merriweather replied. “He simply worries, as I worry about him. Nor do I let his concerns stop me from doing what I feel I must. If I did, then that would be something to worry about!”

  “Why must it be so complicated?” Ariel asked in evident frustration.

  “I suppose,” Mrs. Merriweather said consolingly, “because we are complicated creatures, men and women alike. Just be grateful that you do have a choice, my dear. Be grateful that your circumstances do not force you to choose between taking a position such as governess or marrying someone you do not love. Now, come. We must finish choosing what you will wear tonight. A bit of Lady Merriweather’s vanity might not be misplaced, on such an occasion as this. Must you, do you think, wear those spectacles?”

  “Yes,” Ariel said firmly, “I must.”

  14

  Ariel wore the spectacles. “My father’s friends wouldn’t recognize me if I didn’t,” she said, as if that settled the matter.

  Lady Jersey greeted them warmly. To Ariel she said, “I used to have a tendre for your father, you know. He was such a handsome fellow in his youth! I daresay half the girls I knew had a tendre for him. But once he saw your mother, there was no catching his eye for any of the rest of us. It is such a pity your father turned his back upon society after your mother died. He was always haring off to strange places, wasn’t he? At any rate, when I heard that he was dead and you were left alone, I knew I had to do something to make his poor daughter feel welcome among the ton. My dear, why on earth did he never bring you out?”

  Ariel didn’t know quite what to say. “I, that is to say, Papa thought it unimportant. He needed my help at the museum, you see.”

  That prompted a cry of outrage from Lady Jersey. “Well, in my opinion,” she said sternly, “your father used you shamelessly! What was he thinking? How did he ever expect you to find a husband there? Although I have heard rumors that you managed to catch the eye of at least one eligible gentleman! But I am putting you to the blush and I never meant to do so, I promise you! So never mind. Come and meet the rest of my guests. I make no doubt some of them are known to you already, but in addition to your father’s friends and colleagues, I also invited a few ladies who may be able to smooth your way in society, if they so choose. Don’t worry. I shall introduce to you everyone who is not already known to you. A pity about the spectacles. I suppose you must wear them? Comes of reading too much, I daresay. Your father wouldn’t have thought of that, either. A handsome man, but one without a dash of common sense about him.”

  Her head slightly in a whirl, Ariel allowed herself to be led about the room by Lady Jersey. The colonel and Mrs. Merriweather came as well, though Lady Merri- weather moved off to greet one of her bosom bows.

  “How did you come to think of this kindness to Miss Hawthorne?” Mrs. Merriweather asked.

  Lady Jersey blinked at her. “Do you know, I cannot recall. I simply remember hearing about Mr. Hawthorne’s death and knowing I must do something for his daughter. Ah, here we are. Miss Hawthorne, I believe you have not yet met Lady Hadwin? Lady Hadwin, may I make Miss Hawthorne known to you?”

  And so it began. It was, as promised, a quiet evening. There was no music or other entertainment, just a chance to talk. Everyone seemed bent upon being kind to Miss Hawthorne, either because of their affection for her father or from fear of incurring Lady Jersey’s disapproval if they were not.

  In spite of herself, Ariel found she was glad she had come. She had not known her father had so many friends among the ton. Nor had she known how highly even those who were not scholars seemed to think of him. Why, then, had he never taken her with him when he was invited to one place or another? It was a question no one seemed able to answer.

  Somewhat to her surprise, Ariel discovered that Captain Stanfield had been invited, along with his mother. Oddly enough, the woman seemed most interested in meeting her. Stanfield seemed equally bent upon helping Ariel avoid her. To that end, he betrayed himself by staying almost a constant companion at Ariel’s side and guiding her about the room so that for most of the evening his mother had no chance to speak to her.

  It was not that Ariel disliked Captain Stanfield’s company. Indeed, she found it more than a little comforting to have him by her side. But it could only result in precisely the sort of gossip he seemed most eager to avoid. If his mother had been interested in her before tonight, she would be far more so after it.

  But Ariel could not bring herself to send Captain Stanfield away. He seemed to know just what to say when the words of these strangers threatened to overset her composure. He seemed to know just how and when to ward them off from even approaching her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked after they had been there for some time.

  Ariel nodded. “Yes, and I thank you for your help. It is not easy for me to be here.”
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  Captain Stanfield looked around. “I cannot understand what Lady Jersey was thinking,” he said impatiently. “But where she commands, few are willing to refuse to go. So we all are here. But I promise you that I shall do my best to shield you from anyone you wish.”

  Ariel smiled up at him wistfully. She wished he could guard her from the weaknesses of her own heart. It was not her grief over her father that she wished he could take away, for that was welcome, if only because it still kept her feeling connected to Papa.

  No, it was this unwelcome tug she felt every time she looked up into Stanfield’s face, every time she felt his comforting hand on her shoulder. Who was going to protect her from this unaccustomed need that seemed to grow stronger each time she saw him, each time he did something that showed his attention to her comfort in a way that no one, not even Mama or Papa, had ever shown before?

  Mrs. Merriweather seemed to think it was a good thing, this feeling, but Ariel was not so certain. It was far too unsettling. There were moments when she felt as though these feelings might overwhelm her. And she did not, when Captain Stanfield smiled at her in such a reassuring way, trust her own common sense. And that was more disconcerting than anything else!

  Still, it was comforting to have him beside her as she talked with those who had known her father. Ariel even learned to accept with something that at least gave the appearance of equanimity, the compliments on her person. She was not accustomed to hearing herself described as a lovely young lady. Intelligent, yes, but except from Papa it had never been meant as a compliment. And any comments about her appearance had more likely been an instruction to change an ink-stained skirt than to applaud her efforts to appear to advantage.

  “William, go fetch Miss Hawthorne a glass of ratafia,” a woman commanded.

  Ariel looked up and realized that this was Stanfield’s mother. He did not seem pleased to see her standing there. Nor pleased to see her then sit down on the sofa beside Ariel, as if she meant to stay awhile. He hesitated, but in the end he did as he was told, while his mother settled her skirts about her and studied Ariel with open curiosity.

  “So you are the young lady who has dazzled my son,” Lady Chadbourne said. “I wonder why.”

  “So do I,” Ariel blurted out without thinking.

  A peal of laughter escaped Lady Chadbourne, and she grinned at Ariel. “I think I shall like you, my dear, which is fortunate—under the circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?” Ariel asked warily.

  “Oh, yes, the circumstances. Given my son’s pointed attendance upon you this evening, I think we may expect some sort of pronouncement from him before much longer. Indeed, perhaps”—she paused as a thought struck her—“the two of you already have an understanding and he has just not seen fit to inform me of that fact?”

  Fascinated, Ariel shook her head. “No. We have no understanding. I do not know what his interest in me might be, other than his wish to carry on the work he was doing for my father and his knowledge that I can be of assistance to him in that.”

  Another peal of laughter escaped Lady Chadbourne, drawing even more interested looks than before. “Oh, my dear, you are a refreshing creature! Perhaps that is why my son is so fascinated with you! No, I promise you, it is not simply your father’s work that interests my son. If it were only that, he would be very careful not to be seen so often in your company that talk must surely arise. He has, after all, been raised with a perfect understanding of the consequences of his behavior and what is proper under what circumstances.”

  “As I have not?” Ariel asked, a hint of defiance in her voice.

  Lady Chadbourne patted her hand soothingly. “You have been raised by a scholar. And scholars are impractical creatures, as we all know. They have not the least understanding, or care, for what the ton might say. I daresay that however a good man your father was, he did not spare a great deal of thought for what might be best for you. Or perhaps he did not wish you to be approved by the ton. After all, if you were, he might lose a valuable assistant. And yes, I have heard how he had you work with him at the museum when he ought to have been seeing to your future instead.”

  “I will not hear a word said against Papa,” Ariel said stiffly. “He was very dear to me.”

  “Well, of course he was!” Lady Chadbourne exclaimed, as though astonished that Ariel might think she believed otherwise. “I should be very disappointed in you if you did not feel such proper affection for your father. But that does not mean you must be blind to his faults. Nor that I should not sympathize at the ways they affected you.”

  Ariel had no notion how to answer that sally. And indeed, she greeted the reappearance of Captain Stanfield, and the glass of champagne in his hand, with far greater warmth than she might otherwise have done.

  “I thought you might prefer this to ratafia,” he told Ariel. Then he looked from her to his mother and said in a warning tone, “Mama?”

  Lady Chadbourne rose to her feet slowly. She looked down at Ariel and smiled. “Come see me tomorrow, my dear. I should like to have the chance to speak with you in private. Have my son bring you.”

  And before either Stanfield or Ariel could protest her high-handed orders, she moved away and they were left staring at each other, the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of their mouths.

  “My mama is, er, a very forceful woman,” Stanfield said apologetically.

  “So I have seen,” Ariel agreed. “What shall I do?”

  “Go see my mother tomorrow. And I shall take you.”

  “You don’t mind?” Ariel asked doubtfully.

  He laughed, but it was a forced sound. “It would not matter if I did. But as it happens, no I do not mind. Let my mother weave her fantasies. I am the one member of the family she cannot command. It does no harm, therefore, to indulge her in these little matters upon occasion.”

  And then he did move away, leaving Ariel feeling bereft, and it was more than the simple absence of his person to act as guard against everyone who wished to speak with her. She could not help wondering whether he considered tomorrow’s visit a little matter because he meant to propose, or because he thought her of so little consequence that it did not matter what expectations might be raised by his attentions to her.

  There was no time, however, to worry over the question, because an older gentleman took the chair opposite her. He reached out and patted Ariel’s hand awkwardly. She tried to smile.

  “I am so sorry, my dear, to hear of your father’s death,” the gentleman said. “I am Mr. Kinkaid. Your father no doubt spoke of me—we were great friends.”

  He looked at her expectantly, and Ariel scarcely knew what to say. Her father had never mentioned this man, but then he had never mentioned most of the people who had spoken to her tonight. She knew of him, of course. Anyone involved in antiquities had heard his name as that of a collector, and not always a scrupulous one. In the end she merely smiled weakly at Mr. Kinkaid and let him draw his own conclusions.

  “What is to become of your father’s papers and researches? I ask, you see, because we were in some sort colleagues and—”

  “And I should be be happy to look over whatever papers Miss Hawthorne’s father may have left behind,” another voice said smoothly.

  Ariel looked up to see Lord Hollis, one of her father’s friends, and felt an immense sense of relief. She was almost tempted to agree to his suggestion, but there was a gleam, an almost predatory gleam it seemed to her, in Lord Hollis’s eyes that stopped her. Did everyone want to take over her father’s work?

  In the end Ariel said, “I believe Colonel Merriweather is going to perform that office for me. You might speak to him, if there was something in particular either of you wished to have or know about.”

  Lord Hollis didn’t answer, but Kinkaid’s gloved hands clenched the arms of the chair tightly, and it seemed there was anger now in his eyes. “Is that wise?” he asked, careful to keep his voice level. “There are certain, er, rumors about the colonel that
might make one hesitate to entrust such an important task to his care.”

  Ariel drew in her breath. She also kept her voice level as she replied, “Perhaps, Mr. Kinkaid. But my father trusted him, and it was his wish that the colonel do so. Surely you would not wish me to contradict my father’s dying wishes?”

  Lord Hollis blinked. “Your father spoke before he died? That is to say, I had heard he was found dead.”

  “He was,” a voice at Ariel’s shoulder said calmly, and a hand squeezed her shoulder in a way that gave her a surprising degree of comfort.

  She looked up to see Colonel Merriweather standing behind her. He smiled down at her reassuringly. To Lord Hollis and Mr. Kinkaid he said, “Mr. Hawthorne was found quite dead, but he had talked earlier of how, should anything happen to him, he wished me to take care of his papers and such. It was almost as though he sensed something might happen to him.”

  “Indeed? Then of course you must do as he asked,” Kinkaid said indifferently.

  “I must say that it is very odd he did not ask for my assistance,” Lord Hollis added stiffly, as though insulted, “but if he did not, he did not.”

  Kinkaid rose to his feet and bowed to Ariel. “Again, my dear, my sympathies on your father’s death. It was a delight to meet you at last. Your father was very proud of you.”

  “Yes,” Hollis agreed, “he was.”

  As both men walked away, Ariel found her eyes filling with tears. Was Papa proud of her? She wished that if he had been, he had been able to say so to her instead of just to his friends. It was the sort of thing she would have liked to know while he was alive.