My Dear Jenny

by Robins, Madeleine

  “Not my place?” Jenny blinked.

  “No. I should be Miss Pellering to you, or Miss Emily, or—”

  “When we banished such formality with each other some three months ago at Mrs. Hatcher’s?”

  “And you have been interfering with me ever since!” Emily cried quickly, afraid that her sense of ill-use would desert her.

  “Only at your request, in most cases. Would you rather have married Adrian Ratherscombe?”

  “No, but I—that’s not the point. Always interfering with Mr. Teverley, and saying things—l’m sure you must have said things to turn him away from me, because you wanted him yourself, and were too plain and old and—and you had to say things about me which—”

  “Emily, never in my life!” Jenny cried, stung. “My God, child, what have you been thinking, nay, imagining, these months? I admit I thought the gentleman had very little partiality for you, and felt it a kindness to hint as much to you—but as for discouraging him ... my God!” She began to laugh. “Oh my God, what a thing to say to me!” She went off into a fit of laughter, more than a little hysterical. Emily, startled from her own hysterics by Miss Prydd’s far more uncharacteristic ones, stared. Jenny regained herself. “All right, then. What other crimes have I done against you?”

  “Telling Lady Teeve that I was foxed. And starting a shouting match in the middle of the room just now. Yes, and making me the villain for that fall you took, when you had to ride that stupid horse, and Domenic hated me, and Lord Teeve hated me, and Sir John ... and Teverley hated me!”

  “Nonsense! I told you, as I told Teverley—if it come to that!—that I was to blame for my own stupidity. As for telling Lady Teeve that you were foxed—”

  “I believe it was my aunt who informed Miss Prydd of your condition. And, as it seems to be still very much the case, I suggest that you quit the party for this evening, Miss Pellering, and retire to your room.”

  Both women looked up. It was Peter Teverley.

  Jenny was the first to recover. A picture had formed in her mind of how they must appear: Emily, disheveled by dancing, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red and her mouth unbecomingly twisted in anger; and herself, gown creased and stained with tears, still shaking from hysteria. She began to giggle.

  “No!” She held her hand up to stop him as he approached her. “No, I am quite all right, really, only it just seems a trifle—a little ridiculous. My aunt Winchell would never credit this if she heard the story!” She chuckled a moment Ionger.

  Emily seemed unable to find any humor in the situation. “I have no doubt that she will hear the story.” She glared.

  “And who will tell it to her?” Teverley asked easily. Emily quailed before that look. “I rather think that you should follow my suggestion, Miss Pellering, and as soon as possible. Can you stand?” he asked Miss Prydd.

  “I am perfectly myself again,” she assured him. “Please, if you would only see Emily to her room, and make sure that her maid—”

  “That’s what you always do!” Emily spat angrily. “Act as if you were the kindest, most sacrificing, person in the world, and then steal another person’s—” She stopped, hand over her mouth, realizing what she had almost said, and in whose presence.

  “Another person’s what?” Teverley asked casually.

  “No matter.” Emily stammered. “I’ll go now.”

  “No, no.” He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “I am all attention. What new crime is Miss Prydd credited with now? After defending you against my aunt, not only here but in London; after making up a large part of your rescue from Ratherscombe; and after contributing largely to your comfort these last few months, as well as defending your name against the scandal when you committed the asinine foolishness of going to meet Adrian Ratherscombe in Hyde Park—yes, I do know about that.” He nodded calmly. “What new ‘crime’ are you laying at Miss Prydd’s door? Perhaps the disaffection of a lover? Or a hoped-for lover? It could not have been myself, could it?” He smiled grimly. “Certainly it could not have been myself, Miss Pellering, since I was never attached in the first place—”

  “I beg you, Mr. Teverley,” Jenny began.

  “No, damme, Prydd, it’s time the chit understood. My dear Miss Pellering,” he began formally. “I must regret to be the one to inform you of this, but it appears that I must. You are, certainly, a pretty chit. You are on occasion pretty mannered, as well. You are often amusing, in the inconsequential way of a kitten or a small, spoilt child. But you are hardly the sort of woman I would wish to wife.”

  Emily looked at him piteously.

  “Come now, child,” he said, more kindly. “Dom is waiting in the hall to see you to your room, and your maid will bring you a cup of warm milk to make you sleep; you’ll have a devilish head in the morning, but you’ll be right enough by tomorrow evening, and on your way, returning to your parent’s house, if I recall rightly. Ah yes, my aunt rarely likes her victims to linger when she has done with them. And in two weeks I will only be that dreadful Teverley fellow, and in a month you will have a new beau, or several beaux, to occupy your time more fully, and to much better effect, than ever I could.” He strode to the door and opened it to reveal Domenic Teverley, looking sober and somewhat alarmed.

  “Dom, your charge. Make sure you tell her maid to bring her a cup of warm milk.” He transferred Emily to Dom’s arm gently and stood in the door.

  “Warm milk, like a baby!” Emily cried, disgusted. “I hate you!” She glared at Peter Teverley but did not look at Jenny at all. Domenic took her from the room.

  All was silent.

  At last, with a great sigh, Jenny righted herself. “Well, now I must figure what I must do.”

  “Do?” Teverley asked.

  “Good heavens, sir, that poor child is upstairs, probably in tears, and I have as much as told your aunt that I would be gone from the house by daylight, and—”

  “You needn’t worry about Aunt Teeve; my uncle is seeing to her. He asked me to make his profoundest apologies for the disgraceful scene she embroiled you in—neither of us foresaw such a thing.”

  “But Emily—I admit that she has behaved very foolishly, but—”

  “Foolishly!” He gave a great bark of laughter. “Your patience is greater than mine, Jenny. I have put up with that child’s airs and notions, have watched her tyrannize over you—”

  “Hardly tyrannize! I suspect that you know very little of tyranny—from the aspect of the ... the tyrannee.”

  “Probably true.” He smiled again, and her heart gave a lurch. “But do you seriously propose that I go after that child and tell her that I lied? That I do cherish some unlikely passion for her despite her ninnyhammer ways and selfishness, and that she was altogether wrong in her fancies that I harbored some feelings for you?”

  “Well, the last, at least...” Jenny said thoughtfully. “No, I don’t suppose that you ought to go after her; she has been unconscionably froward and stupid tonight, and I’m really rather—embarrassed—at some of the things she has been imagining, although your aunt—”

  “Planted some of those thoughts in her mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if they were correct?”

  The words were spoken in a level, even tone, hardly one calculated to make Miss Prydd execute the sudden, startled turn back in his direction.

  “But she isn’t, of course,” she said, with almost a match to his evenness.

  “I said the child was selfish, and a ninnyhammer, and had allowed her jealousy to overrule her affection for you. I did not say that she was wrong on every count.”

  “Just what are you saying? Or are you saying anything at all?” Jenny asked, just a little breathlessly.

  “At the moment? That I am tired of beating around the bush. And I have hoped to remove from you some of your original, very patent dislike of me. And that now, since Emily has obligingly opened the subject, I would like very much to know what my success has been. Do you think you could learn to c
are for me, Jenny?”

  He stood across the room from her, his back to the door, light from several dozen candles illuminating his countenance, yet Jenny found that she had trouble clearly seeing him. “Care for you, Mr. Teverley?” She repeated blankly.

  “Confound it, if you are going to talk with a man in this sort of vein you ought at least to use his Christian name. Even if it’s only to let him down easily. You know it, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know it,” Jenny answered indignantly. It has been singing inside of me these three months. But she did not say that aloud. She wished desperately that this were not happening; it was almost as if he were testing her. The whole thing was absurd, a strange conceit on Teverley’s part, and he had no idea how he was wounding her.

  “Well, then, do you need coaching? You have only to say ‘Peter, I might try.”’ He looked at her ruefully, and she saw that his color was high. “Of course, you might prefer to say that nothing in the world could persuade you to make the effort.”

  “But why? That is, what are you asking?” Jenny asked stupidly, feeling wildly as if there were some segment of the conversation she did not understand. “Perhaps it is only that idiotic knock on the head, but I cannot think straight—I—”

  “Dammit, woman!” He scowled. “They don’t school you to make speeches of this sort in the India trade.” He crossed the room and took her by the shoulders, facing him squarely. “I want you. I want to marry you. I love you. Do you understand?” He looked at her anxiously.

  “Yes, of course I understand.” Jenny murmured. “But why? I mean, you cannot be serious, you cannot mean that—Oh, God, I have never been such a ninnyhammer in all my life.” She sank away from him onto the sofa behind her and sat staring at her hands. “The problem is that while I understand your words, I don’t understand it, I can’t believe—I’m not the sort of woman—and Emily was only being stupid and fanciful, so there is no reason to be gallant about—but that makes no sense, for you aren’t the gesture-making sort of man. I simply—”

  “Don’t believe a word that I have said? I should have thought that my willingness to put up with Miss Emily’s simperings of the last few weeks would have indicated that no sacrifice was too great,” he said lightly.

  She simply could not believe what he had said. He was, she felt, far above her touch. Jenny sank further into the sofa and dropped her gaze again. “This is a very strange interview,” she murmured after a moment.

  “Damn it, Prydd,” he muttered through the silence. “When I first saw you at the Green Falconer I thought you were simply what you appeared to be: a poor relation, who might as well have been the chit’s governess. The sort of woman who is referred to as ‘excellent’ or ‘worthy’ and is never invited to dine with the family. But—I don’t know what it is: You’re damned argumentative, provoking, commonsensical at the most inconvenient times ... and it has been some while since I have been able to look at you without thinking you the most exceptional woman I know. Good God, on the other hand, why should you look at me? I was never what you call handsome, even in my younger days. I come out raw and rude at the most awkward times, and sometimes I hardly know I’ve done so. To be sure, I’m wealthy enough, but you’ve never struck me as the sort of woman to marry only for an establishment. What Miss Emily sees as romantic in me you might well, as a woman of sense, shudder at.” He set himself beside her and stared out the darkened window. “Damn it, how do you feel about me?”

  “Why,” Jenny said slowly, not fully believing that it was she who spoke, “I’ve been in love with you since the Green Falconer.” She turned to him in amazement, as if she had just startled herself beyond bearing. Teverley was not one to let such a disclosure go by; he gathered her to him strongly.

  “Then why the devil,” he murmured tightly into her hair, “have we been making each other so miserable these ten minutes?”

  And kissed her.

  Jenny had experienced the kisses of her cousins, her uncles, and her father. She had even, once long ago when she was home on a holiday from her school, been kissed by an interesting young man who was nephew to the curate. Nothing in all her life had prepared her for Teverley’s kiss. And nothing had prepared her for her response to him. When at long last they drew apart, somewhat shakily, to laugh and regard each other with new eyes, she smiled and remarked that kissing him felt so natural she was surprised, in retrospect, that they had not discovered it before. Teverley gave a shout of laughter.

  “Jenny, you madwoman! How I ever saw past those impossibly prim clothes and your schoolmistress manner to find the astringent witch that lurked within, I cannot say. I suppose I can only thank my stars.”

  “I don’t believe there was such a woman until I met you,” she said. “I think you must have created her from whole cloth, for, to be quite frank with you, I have never in all my life behaved in the way I have behaved in these last three months. And always around you. I believe that is how I first knew that you were special—you brought out such extraordinary things in me! I can recall sitting at Mrs. Hatcher’s table in the coffee room wondering what had come over me to quarrel with a perfect stranger!”

  “Not a quarrel, my love. Merely a quibble.”

  “See, you do it again! And how was I to answer but in kind? Only, I never had before—I don’t think that I even knew that I could before. You keep surprising me with myself. Unless you simply create the things, and leave them for me to discover.”

  “Very fanciful,” Teverley approved, gathering her into his arms and kissing her ear. “Sweet Jenny. Darling Jenny. Pretty Jenny.”

  Miss Prydd drew away. “I am aware of your partiality, Peter—”

  “I should hope so, minx.” He continued to nibble on her earlobe, unperturbed.

  “But calling me pretty goes beyond everything—into the realm of fairy tales, and—”

  He forced her face up to meet his eyes. “Enough of that nonsense. No, my love, I am desolated to inform you that you are not a nonpareil. You will never be written into the Gazette as one of the great beauties attending Almack’s. But as for anything else, I beg leave to inform you that once you leave off your servant’s gowns and schoolroom air, you are a very handsome woman. Pretty. And just at this moment—” He smiled into her eyes. “You are very beautiful. I realize that this is just a transitory enchantment, but nonetheless, I will not have you abusing yourself because you cannot rightly interpret the image your mirror gives you.”

  “Peter, I love you.”

  “For telling you that you are pretty? A fine love, that.” He pulled her into the curve of his arm contentedly.

  “For telling me that I am pretty in such a fashion. As well as for a million other things. Particularly your smile.” She was rewarded by that smile at very close quarters.

  A few minutes later she roused herself from his embrace. “Peter, you know that I have only just recalled that we are still at your aunt’s fête? At any moment—”

  “No one will come to disturb us, love. I made certain of that. However, it has been a rather—uhm—taxing day for you, on top of your injury—I swear I was never so ready to kill anyone in my life as I was Domenic that morning! And dearly as I would love to stay here with you forever—” his smile underscored the words— “I think it is the better part of valor that I send you to your room with a cup of warm milk as well as Miss Pellering.”

  “Am I supposed to tell you that I hate you? It won’t wash, for I am a great deal more stubborn than Emily is.”

  “I fervently hope so,” he agreed.

  “But Peter, what are we to do? I mean, immediately? I must get Emily back safely to her parents, for her mother specifically asked that I watch out for her. And my aunt Winchell—”

  “Damn it, there you go, sinking Jenny in lphegenia.”

  “You must admit that I have spent seven and twenty years being Iphegenia, and only three months as Jenny. Try as I will, the strain will show through now and again.”

  “It is only for me to
keep a very close watch on you and help you overcome your impulses to sacrifice all your comfort for someone else’s convenience.”

  “Even yours?” she teased.

  “Especially mine,” he said seriously. “I know I can be a dictatorial sort, and you must keep a watch on me.”

  “Oh, I will keep a very close watch on you,” Miss Prydd assured him.

  “Prydd, my very dear Prydd,” he laughed. “If you smile at me that way you will never see your warm milk, and both our reputations will be gone by morning. What I propose, love, is that in the morning you will depart for London—with Miss Pellering, and with my escort. And we will dispatch your Emily to her family, and I will have a talk with Lord Graybarr, so that no—uhm—misunderstanding is possible about her conduct or yours here. After which I will take you to your friend Lady Bevan. And as soon as I can procure a special license, I will wed you from there.”

  “Peter, the whole of it sounds like heaven. And it is lovely to give the management of things over to someone else for a while, although I will probably give you a fight for it in another situation.”

  He accepted her challenge and asked: “And shall you mind—shall you dislike it very much if I do, no, if we do have to return to India sometime?”

  “I shall like it above all things. Had you not realized that I am incurably fascinated by the glimpses of your travel and business you have given me? I shall be a sore trial to you, for I will quiz you on every move you make.”

  “And make more of your eminently practical suggestions, as practiced in Dumsford-parish church work?” he teased.

  “Certainly,” she agreed. “And I shall love you very much. Will you mind?”

  He rose and took her hand. “My dear Prydd, I shall like it above all things.”

  Copyright and Credits

  My Dear Jenny

  A Regency Romance

  Madeleine Robins

  Copyright © 1980 Madeleine Robins

  ISBN: 978 1 61138 070 5