Before retiring, he found a chance to whisper to Laura, “Have you answered my cousin?”
“No—not yet.”
“But it will be in the affirmative?”
“You need not fear, Edward,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.
CHAPTER 23
IN THE MORNING, MRS. BELL came downstairs for breakfast, to the alarm of her new friends. She insisted she was quite well, and valiantly bit on a slice of toast. There was but one topic that aroused her from her lethargy.
“What think you of my banners, Mrs. Bell?” said Sir Richard.
“Oh,” she said. “I think them wonderful.”
“They are very old,” the baronet said.
Elspeth came to his assistance. “From their condition, one can see that they were, at times, used as weapons. Our ancestors were so very practical!”
“Surely not!” said Mrs. Bell.
Sir Richard said, “Nay, my cousin is teasing. The banners were treated with greatest respect in early times.” He turned to Mrs. Bell. “The damage you see is due to their antiquity.”
Mrs. Bell silently gazed at the venerable tapestries.
“There have been attempts at repair,” said Sir Richard.
Mrs. Bell saw fit to give her opinion. “Such endeavours can do more harm than good.”
“Just as I always fear!” said Sir Richard.
“My sister believes it is time to bring the banners down,” said Laura.
“You would not destroy my banners, Cousin Elspeth?” said Sir Richard.
“Never!” Elspeth laughed. “I would have them carried with the greatest respect—to the attics.”
Sir Richard looked at her in reproach, and Spotty waddled over to nudge him.
“You know my sister still teases you, Sir Richard,” said Laura.
“Oh!” he said. “Yes, indeed.”
Mrs. Bell cast a look of awe on the pennants.
Sir Richard noted her expression. “They are more than a little shabby,” he said.
“The genuine articles?”
“The very pennants carried out in defence of the Queen of England!” said Sir Richard, putting his hand to his heart.
“The very same?”
“We are of the one mind, I see. Some day I shall commission copies.”
“And these …?”
“The originals! You may be sure they will not reside in the attics. They will be preserved in a display case.”
Mrs. Bell soon retired to bed again, in the care of a chamber maid, and the family separated, to their own occupations.
Laura went for a long walk all around the park and gardens, with Jonathon trailing behind. She visited the home farm, resting on a seat outside the manager’s cottage, and enjoying the childish pleasure of a glass of fresh milk. If Jonathon hoped to return to the house, he was disappointed. He had no time to ask for a second tankard of ale, before he had to follow his charge over field and stile to the far edge of the estate, where the ground dropped away into the valley. Only the pine forest was neglected in the tour.
Laura returned with barely time to dress for the celebration.
“What have you done to Jonathon?” said Elspeth, coming into her sister’s room. “He is good for nothing.”
Sarah turned her head away to hide her smile.
“I did not ask for his company,” said Laura.
“You have made sure it was necessary.”
“I am sure the exercise is healthful. Pray let me dress.”
Tuesday 30th September, 10 p.m.
It was a relief to dine at Lewton Hall, with the Woodruffs all in an excellent temper. Evalina’s portrait was on display in the dining room. Her family’s pleasure in it gratified me.
On our return, I entered my cousin’s carriage, finding Elspeth had spread her small self in the middle of her seat. There was no choice but to sit with Richard—Edward was on horseback. It was near dark inside the carriage. I was too much aware of my shoulder bumping against Richard’s with every sway of the carriage. Elspeth was silent, feigning sleep, and I could barely make conversation, for awareness of our interesting situation.
The question hangs heavily between us. I knew the answer must be “yes”, and he did too, for all his modesty. The silence between us expanded, filling out like a blanket of mist. I cannot speak it—not yet.
On our return, Elspeth spoke to my brother in the hall, and Edward drew Richard aside and they all went into the library. What are they up to now? I was only happy to escape them.
On Wednesday, Laura faced Mrs. Bell across a deserted breakfast table.
“The captain left at first light to attend to his business affairs.”
Mrs. Bell nodded.
“Sir Richard has gone shooting with the colonel and Mr. Woodruff, I believe.”
“Oh.”
“How would you like to occupy your time today?”
Mrs. Bell looked as though she had no way to determine such a thing.
“Shall we take a short walk?”
“I would be delighted.”
“When you are completely recovered, I can offer a fine view of Dartmoor crags. It is quite steep, you know, up through the pine forest, but worth every step.”
“I would like that very much.”
They wandered out in the flower gardens.
“Let me know if I outpace you with my great limbs,” said Laura. “How my mother despaired over their ferocious growth.”
“You knew her?” There was a glimpse of wistfulness in Mrs. Bell’s eyes.
Laura indicated a bench, and they sat there, among the fading foliage of autumn. She said, “My mother died when I was a child, but I remember her very well. Did you not know your own?”
“She did not survive my birth.”
“Were you the only child?”
Mrs. Bell nodded.
Laura did not like to ask who had remained of the family, but Mrs. Bell surprised her by volunteering the information.
“My father was much attached to his classical studies.”
“One can learn much from a scholarly parent,” said Laura.
“The day would pass and I would see him only at meals.”
“My father too withdrew himself from his children—from grief, I believe. We fell to the care of our aunt.”
The other lady smiled, as fellow feeling lit her expression with softness.
“Then you married Mr. Bell!” Laura said, attempting to shake off the glum mood that seemed to threaten them.
“My father arranged it all, and appointed Mr. Bell as his curate.”
“Oh?” Laura began to doubt the poverty of this parson who could afford to pay a curate.
As though she read those thoughts, Mrs. Bell said, “There was no money. We lived with my father, who was Mr. Bell’s good friend. They were closeted together all day over their books.”
What an odd business marriage can be, thought Laura.
“They died within six weeks of one another,” said Mrs. Bell.
Like a devoted old couple! Laura thought, amazed.
“You are very kind to listen to me,” said Mrs. Bell.
“It is no hardship, I assure you.”
“I have never spoken so much about myself in my life.”
“Can you not confide in the countess?”
Mrs. Bell gave a small laugh of self-deprecation. “I … try to amuse her but still … she finds me tedious, I know.”
After a quiet morning, the three ladies gathered in the drawing room before dinner, awaiting the appearance of the baronet.
“Sir Richard is never so unpunctual,” said Laura.
“He will be down shortly,” said Elspeth. “He has not long been home.”
Five minutes later, the baronet hastened in.
“How late you are, Sir Richard,” said Laura.
Sir Richard blushed, bowing several times. “I do beg your pardon, Cousin.”
“It is of no great matter. If you enjoyed the colonel’s compan
y, I am happy.”
“What? Oh, yes.”
“Tell us of your achievements today.”
“What!” he said, his eyes sliding away from her.
“How fared you in the game of strategy and chance?”
“What do you mean, Laura?”
Elspeth sighed. “My sister asks you how many birds you shot in the colonel’s woods today.”
“None.”
“You poor love! Let us go into dinner,” said Elspeth, rising from her seat.
“How did your host fare?” said Laura.
“I … didn’t go to Lewton Hall today.”
“I thought it was a settled thing.”
“Laura, can you not leave the subject alone?” said Elspeth, giving the baronet a gracious nod as she took his arm.
“I am sorry if I appear to pry,” said Laura, trying not to feel offended.
“Not at all,” said Sir Richard, turning his head towards her, but not meeting her eyes. “I will explain myself in due course.”
“You need do no such thing, Richard. It is no affair of mine. I was merely making conversation.”
Even the back of Elspeth’s head had a self-satisfied look, Laura thought.
Day succeeded day in slow procession. On Thursday morning, the three ladies sat together in the solar.
Mrs. Evans had expressed delight on seeing Mrs. Bell so much recovered.
“How sorry you must be to have missed visiting her ladyship’s uncle,” she said.
“I am passing my time perfectly pleasantly here, I thank you,” said Mrs. Bell.
“This is not so fashionable as some of the places you visit with the countess—but we are family and accustomed to its defects.”
“Your sister showed me the principal rooms this morning and I am delighted with their preservation.”
Elspeth looked surprised and moved to a new topic. “We are very dull at Oakmont; it is ever so.”
Mrs. Bell was silent, for the only answer that occurred to her was that she liked dull places but that did not infer a compliment.
There came the sound of wheels on the drive, not rumbling upon it so much as scattering the gravel. Elspeth rose and looked out of the window.
“I am seized by the headache,” she said. “I shall go to my room.” Laura followed her to the window and saw Mr. Woodruff’s curricle bowling up to the front door.
“You might overpower the sensation, Elspeth. It is your fault, surely, that he is here.”
Elspeth blew her a kiss from the doorway and hurried away. In her room, she reclined upon her sofa, quickly becoming engrossed in a novel detailing an adventure in Poland. Despite having read the tale several times over, Elspeth found that it exerted greater fascination upon her imagination than the visitor just arrived.
Laura did her best to entertain Mr. Woodruff, but the young man was difficult to provoke into conversation. He did express a concern that Mrs. Evans was prone to ill-health, and Laura comforted him by pointing out that her sister was in mourning, her husband having only passed away within a twelve month.
“Already I see signs that my sister rallies a little,” said Laura.
This pleased him to an unwarranted degree. “Mrs. Evans has an affectionate nature, I believe,” he said.
Laura, wanting to laugh, said, “She was of great comfort to Mr. Evans in his declining years.”
“He lived to a ripe old age—near ninety, they say.”
“He always said his wife kept him young.”
Mr. Woodruff may have been provoked into thoughts that did not bear expression in the company of ladies, for his mouth opened and closed again in silence.
He sat there, with his hat upon his knee, and filled the occasional silences with the flapping of his gloves upon its crown. No other subject seemed capable of eliciting much speech from him. He jumped up and departed as soon as fifteen minutes had passed, and politeness was satisfied.
“Think you that the gentleman came to see us?” said Laura.
Mrs. Bell thought over this question seriously. “He cannot have intended to call upon me,” she said.
A note arrived for Laura from her sister, and she excused herself.
She found Elspeth at the window of her bedroom. “He has gone out then,” she said.
“Did you send for me to confirm what you see from your window?”
“That odious boy!” Elspeth shuddered. “No, I want to know where Richard has gone.”
“I believe he has gone with his steward to Oakridge Farm. They will look at a tree that his tenant wishes to cut down.”
“You cannot mean that ancient oak? It lends the lane a picturesque look.”
“That is true—I have often enjoyed its gnarled appearance.”
“My cousin must refuse. These tenants begin to think a place their own.”
“The Gothic charm of a diseased tree is of little use to a farmer. It casts such heavy shade that he can scarcely use the garden for vegetables. It cannot survive much longer in any case.”
“These people never cease to impose upon my cousin with their complaints.”
“Richard is not the species of landlord to care more about the artistic appearance of a small corner of his estate, than about the welfare of a farmer with eight children.”
“George Browning has sons enough to cut down every tree in the neighbourhood.”
Laura laughed. “Fortunately my cousin is not so indulgent as that!”
Elspeth returned to the sofa and arranged herself attractively.
“Have you answered him, Laura?” she said.
“If you do not leave this matter to me, I will refuse him. There! I am decided.” Laura turned on her heel and went to the door.
“Dearest, you mistake me. It is only care that caused me to interfere.”
“We shall quarrel, Elspeth, if you harass me in this matter.”
“How could I quarrel with my own beloved sister?”
“It seems impossible, yet you will do it.”
“I insist that you accept his offer this evening.”
“Then the answer is no.”
Laura left the room, and spent some minutes on her own, walking up and down to work off her irritation.
When Laura returned to the solar, she found Mrs. Bell in a pensive state. Leaving her guest to her thoughts, Laura opened her workbasket and took out her embroidery, a long piece of white silk, the border of which she was ornamenting with a Grecian pattern in emerald green.
“That is a lovely pattern, Miss Morrison.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bell. I certainly liked it very much at one time. Familiarity has somewhat robbed it of its charm.” For the first time, Laura was gratified to hear Mrs. Bell’s laugh.
Laughing herself, she said, “Would you like to copy the pattern?”
This offer was happily accepted, and Mrs. Bell copied the design into the notebook she took from her basket. That done, she put the book away and resumed her own work.
In a few moments, Laura became aware of Mrs. Bell’s eyes on her and looked up.
“You seem agitated, Mrs. Bell. Has something upset you?”
“No.”
Yet Laura saw that her companion was oddly excited.
“I wish,” said the lady. “I would like … to be granted the honour …”
“You have only to ask,” said Laura.
“Thank you.” The next words came out in a rush. “The honour of working … the new banners.”
“The Morrison pennants?”
Mrs. Bell nodded, her eyes filled with desperate hope.
“It would be the work of many months, madam.”
“I would take the greatest care.”
“You are not to feel you owe Sir Richard any recompense for his hospitality. He delights in being of service.”
Mrs. Bell’s eyes opened wide in her surprise. “Recompense? No! It is for my own enjoyment. How selfish that sounds.”
“It is a strange style of selfishness,” said Laura. “You must te
ll Sir Richard at once!”
Mrs. Bell blushed. “I—address the baronet myself?”
Gracious! thought Laura. There exists someone who is afraid of Richard!
“Shall I ask him?” she said.
“Might he allow me …?”
“I can safely say he will be delighted.”
Laura was perfectly correct. On hearing of Mrs. Bell’s wonderful offer, the baronet was in transports of joy, and hurried into the solar. Standing before her chair, he said, “My dear lady, am I to believe what I hear? You will honour me by beginning the new banners?”
“I … honour you?” said Mrs. Bell, her cheeks reddening.
“It is not I who does the favour.” He drew up a chair close to her. “You are not to feel sorry for me. I can find accomplished needle-women for the work.”
“They have not my veneration …”
“For Medieval times?”
She nodded.
Sir Richard jumped up, upsetting a little table. “Oops!” he cried, and caught the edge of it just in time.
He sat down again, his shoulders suddenly sagging. “It will be too great a task.”
“I can barely begin before the countess returns.”
“I can collect it from you—if you must leave.”
She nodded.
“You must promise me to send the work unfinished if you tire of it.”
“I will not tire of it.”
Laura found them in the dining hall, watching as two footmen lowered one of the banners to a table placed beneath it. The family Bible was brought from the library, that the exact colours of the crest might be ascertained, the pennants being sadly faded. Mrs. Bell began to take careful measurements, and counted the stitches in the bottom row.
Sir Richard met Laura’s eyes. “Veneration, like my own!” he said.
“We will not be able to match the wools in the village,” said Laura.
“No! We must go to Exeter tomorrow.”
Mrs. Evans entered, having recovered her spirits, and expressed amazement at the proceedings.
“Do you not fear the ghost—she might visit us in displeasure,” she said, with a sidelong look at Laura.
The Imaginary Gentleman Page 20