Cousin Cecilia

by Joan Smith

  "Let me tell you, I am so far from caring for you that I do not at all approve of Martha's taking an interest in you. She could do much better for herself, and so I have told her and shall continue to tell her. As to marrying you myself, I would as lief marry your groom. You are the most vain, foolish, arrogant, stupid man I have ever met. And now to come to a public assembly inebriated, to make a fool of yourself and me! I suggest you go home and sleep it off, Mr. Dallan. When you wish to apologize, I would prefer that you do it in writing, for I do not wish to meet you in person again, ever."

  Mr. Dallan stared at her as if she had struck him. His first flare of anger turned to confusion, then embarrassment, for he had some breeding, hard as he tried to conceal it. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am."

  "Well you might be, sir!"

  On this she turned and swept from the room before the curious eyes of the onlookers. Dallan realized he was the object of their stares, and felt more foolish then ever. His pride was all that got him out of the room without bawling. He had never felt so humiliated before in his life, and to add to his chagrin, he knew perfectly well he deserved that lecture. But really it was too bad of Martha not to give him the first dance.

  He went outside and walked down the High Street, trying to clear his head. What had possessed him to offer for Miss Cummings? In his private thoughts, she was still Miss Cummings. He knew perfectly well she would never have him when she had rejected Wickham. His intention had been to play the heartbroken lover, along with Wickham. He envisaged a month or two of mutual pining over a pint at Jack Duck's. But Wickham had said rather brusquely that he did not plan to frequent Jack's place in future, suggesting that it was beneath a gentleman. There was no point going if Wickham wasn't to be there. And now with Andy engaged and George as well as caught in parson's mousetrap, he would be alone.

  The whole village seemed to be mourning for him. Lights were dim in most of the saloon windows, with everyone at the assembly. He stopped in front of Meachams and gazed up at the bow window where he had often sat in former times with Martha, conning the street and quizzing everyone. If Miss Cummings had her way, Martha wouldn't have him. That London swell hanging on to Martha's arm as though he owned her... Martha, who had never refused him anything before, had refused to stand up with him. Something like panic seized him. He felt a deep urge to hasten back to the assembly—but besides being bosky, he feared what he would do if that popinjay had his arms around Martha.

  With nothing else to do, he rode north to Jack Duck's Tavern, to initiate a life of dissolution and heartbreak—then she'd be sorry she had rejected him. Without George and Andy and Wickham, the place was so dreary he hardly wanted to stay. Peg sat with him, trying to cheer him up, so he bought her a bottle of wine. For himself, he ordered brandy, knowing it to be the quickest path to ruin. He had two glasses and went outside to cast up his accounts. After such an ignominious occurrence, there was nothing to do but go home to bed, which he did, with only one detour back to the assembly. He saw through the window that Martha was standing up with another of the London swells. How they loved her! She would cut a wide swath in London society. Would she ever remember him? Would she recognize him ten years hence when she dropped a coin in his beggar's hand? "That looked a little like a gentleman I used to know in Laycombe. I wonder whatever become of Mr. Dallan," she might say to her husband. Cruel world!

  Things were hardly more pleasant at the assembly. The draper's wife had overheard an extraordinary thing in the refreshment parlor and took her tale to the most appreciative set of ears in town, the Gardeners'. Before long the story was around that Mr. Dallan had offered for Miss Cummings, and she had treated him shockingly. Henley was a little toplofty to be sure, but to call him stupid and vain was doing it a bit brown. As to saying he was not good enough for Martha, well, they would like to hear Martha's opinion of that!

  Sally went whispering in Martha's ear and created as much mischief as even she could desire.

  Martha burst into noisy tears and fled to the coat-room, where Sally Gardener was quick to lead Cecilia and stay gaping to overhear the exchange of abuse.

  "Why did you tell Henley I would not have him?" Martha demanded through her sobs.

  "It wasn't you he was offering for," Sally pointed out helpfully. "It was Miss Cummings herself."

  Martha lifted a moist eye from a sodden handkerchief and said in a weak voice, "It cannot be true! You have stolen him from me, Cousin. All your pretense of trying to help me! It was a wicked stunt to steal Henley for yourself. Oh I shall never forgive such treachery. Never! And to think, we invited you into the bosom of our home, never suspecting..." She could say no more and gave herself over to uncontrolled tears.

  Cecilia leveled a glare on Miss Gardener. "I hope you're satisfied, miss. Pray leave us alone. You will hear no more tales to carry abroad this night."

  Sally tossed her curls and hastened off to carry those already heard.

  "Martha, control yourself," Cecilia said. "Dallan meant nothing by his offer. He was disguised."

  "He wasn't that disguised that he couldn't tell you from me."

  "He didn't know what he was saying. He didn't mean it."

  "Yes, he did. I knew how it would be. It's not fair, your coming to compete with us. And if you must have a husband, why could you not accept Lord Wickham? I wish you had never come here. I wish you would go home and leave us alone."

  Cecilia was still trying vainly to comfort her cousin when Mrs. Meacham came running, alerted to the situation by Sally. Martha threw herself into her mother's arms and begged to be taken home.

  "Oh dear, Martha," the mother said, "can you not pull yourself together? Just stay here a spell and have your cry out. There is no saying, Dallan might very well return after he has walked the drink off."

  "Yes, return to her!" Martha said, lifting her head and pointing an accusing finger at Cecilia.

  "Perhaps we had best all go home," Cecilia said helplessly. "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Meacham. It was none of my doing I promise you. I was as shocked as could be when Dallan blurted out his offer."

  "I'm sure you did your best," Mrs. Meacham said, but in no kind way. "This is no reason to drag Alice away, though I doubt she will want to remain with this on our heads. Perhaps you should speak to her. Now hush, Martha. It isn't the end of the world."

  Alice was sorry to have to leave such a lively assembly, but could not remain when Martha was in such dire straits. She would go home with the family as soon as she had a word with George.

  Staying at the dance was impossible for Cecilia, going home in the carriage with the Meachams equally unpleasant, so she asked Nigel to drive her home. Cecilia heartily wished she had never come to the dance. Her head was throbbing, and on top of it all, Wickham had not even made an appearance. At the door of the house, she begged Sir Nigel to return to the dance and inform her in the morning how much commotion the affair had caused.

  "And I'll tell you if Lord Wickham comes, too, and who he stands up with," Sir Nigel added, with a laughing eye. "Are your matchmaking visits always so hectic, Cousin?"

  "Indeed no. This one outdoes all the rest. And on top of it all, Dallan is the most worthless groom I have ever tried to commandeer to the altar. I am not entirely sorry I failed, though it is a pity Martha is so unhappy."

  "Perhaps this taste of true love will change your mind about Wickham's offer. A marriage of convenience doesn't seem such a bad thing, eh?"

  "It is not love that has caused this brouhaha, but bad manners, including my own. Perhaps I was a little hard on Dallan, but he really is the outside of enough."

  "He's a handsome enough devil. I daresay there aren't many to touch him here in the country. At least he seems the sort ladies like."

  "Not ladies of common sense. Peagooses is more like it."

  She fled into the house and was extremely relieved to see that the ladies had already gone upstairs. Another set-to with Martha was more than she could face. It was obviously impossible to remai
n at Laycombe. She must leave as soon as possible. As the next day was Sunday, however, there was still one day to be got in.

  Her thoughts turned to Wickham. One more day when she might possibly see him. She might send a note to the abbey thanking him for the use of the mount... But that was paltry behavior, all but begging him to come.

  She turned the lamps down low and sat on alone in the semi-darkness of the saloon, looking out at the familiar street, because she could not face her bed. The street looked strangely romantic by moonlight. There half a block down was the shop where she had first met Wickham, and he had picked up the box she dropped. Was that when she first began to fall under his spell? She had been attracted from the first in any case. Love at first sight. How often she had scoffed at the concept.

  The simple fact of the matter was she didn't know the first thing about love. How had she passed herself off as an expert all these years? How had she managed to get everyone but herself to the altar with the gentleman of her choice?

  It hardly seemed possible that two hours had passed, but when she saw the carriages begin to appear in the High Street, telling the end of the assembly, she knew it must be quite late. Soon Sir Nigel and the others came in. Woodhouse and Teale exchanged only a few words before going upstairs. Nigel stayed behind to give his report.

  "Are we utterly disgraced?" Cecilia asked fearfully.

  "You were a nine-minute wonder. It ceased to be spoken of as soon as Mrs. Empey caught her feather in the hanging lamp and created a new riot."

  "And did—was Lord Wickham... ?"

  "He arrived just after dinner."

  "That's very late! I wonder he came at all. Did he stand up with anyone?"

  "Yes, he had a dance with two local girls. Miss Daugherty and a Miss Gardener, who accidentally dropped her shawl in front of him."

  "Ah yes, she drops things to great advantage." Neither Kate nor Sally could give her any fear of competition. It looked as if Wickham had gone to the assembly for no other reason but to show he was untouched by her refusal.

  The two hour vigil had calmed her nerves, and after a glass of wine with Sir Nigel, she went to bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Martha was too overwrought to go to church on Sunday. Cecilia didn't see her at all, but was told by Alice that her swollen eyes were as red as a ferret's. Mrs. Meacham remained at home to solace her elder daughter. Alice, having left the assembly early, wanted to try for another glimpse of George at church and donned her bonnet to go. Cecilia hadn't the heart to urge Martha out, though it would have done Dallan no harm to see her again with a new beau.

  Of the guests, it was only Sir Nigel who was up in time to accompany Cecilia and Alice. Nothing had been said about bringing a guest for lunch, but it was unlikely Mr. Wideman would be turned from the table if he escorted Alice home. Cecilia's main wish was to get herself and her guests out of Meachams' as soon as possible. She knew how unwelcome they were at this troubled time.

  They arrived at church early. Alice remained outside chatting to friends, but Cecilia and Pincombe went immediately to the Meachams’ pew. With her mind full of her own troubles, she hardly noticed who was attending the service. As the hour for the beginning drew nigh, she glanced at the people flocking into their pews and saw Mr. Dallan. That was a surprise. She made sure he would sleep till noon after last night's dissipation. Some evidence of it still hung about him. His cheeks were pale and his manner subdued. Movement in other seats caught her attention. She saw Wideman was there, and Andy Sproule went to sit with Kate and her mother. Alice came in with them, but darted to her own family pew.

  It had not escaped Cecilia's notice that the Wickham pew was empty. A pity Lord Wickham controlled the best seat in the church, since he so seldom occupied it. With a mental sniff she lifted her chin and looked away. Reverend Daugherty was just approaching the altar, and a respectful hush fell over the gathered throng.

  Into the hush came the measured tread of footsteps approaching unhurriedly. Someone has a good opinion of himself, Cecilia thought. He doesn't hasten his pace when he sees the Vicar is waiting for him. She didn't turn her head to look at the late arriver. It was not necessary. Lord Wickham continued his journey to the front pew where he nodded his thanks to the vicar for his forbearance and sat down.

  She felt a jolt on her elbow and looked to see Alice grinning at her, to point out Wickham's presence. That open smile carried a world of meaning. It said Wickham was only here to see her, but Cecilia was undeceived. If she had anything to do with his being here, it was only that he wanted to show her what an excellent, upright fellow she had turned off. She had accused him of leading youngsters astray; he would show her that was not his character. The more likely explanation, however, was that he wanted to listen to the organ again to convince himself it didn't need replacing. All through the service her head was full of worldly thoughts. When she noticed it, she was sorry and tried to pay attention to the service.

  Mr. Dallan also found it hard to keep his thoughts on the sermon. What had struck him most forcibly, as he went to his seat, was that Martha had not come to church. Already her smart friends were leading her astray. Having become a heartbroken, unrepentant wastrel himself, he had no right to be there, in God's house, but try telling Mama that! As he had been roused out of a sound sleep and nagged into his Sunday waistcoat, there was nowhere else to go but to church. He had thought he might catch a glimpse of Martha.

  Having failed in that, it was his intention to get all the details of the assembly from Wideman as soon as church was over. To this end, he sauntered up to George as he came from the door and asked in a voice of the utmost disinterest, "Anything interesting happen last night at the assembly?"

  "Henley, you gudgeon! How did you come to offer for Miss Cummings? You must have been disguised! Martha was a regular waterfall of tears. Her Mama took all the girls home early, and Alice missed half the dance."

  "A bit cut up, was she?" Dallan asked, with undiminished boredom.

  "Of course she was, and so was I! Why should Alice and I have to miss the dance, only because you were drunk as a Dane?"

  Dallan examined his York tan gloves and said, "I meant Martha. Crying a little, did you say?"

  "No, she was bawling buckets. If you have any hope of winning her, you'd best get your tail over to her house before she accepts an offer from Mr. Teale in spite."

  Dallan looked nobly into the future, which for the moment was concentrated on the old oak tree in front of the church, and said, "A bit late for that, I fear." Then he looked a hopeful question at his friend.

  "The sooner you patch it up, Henley, the better. The only other dot of fifteen thousand pounds is Alice's, and I mean to speak to her mama today. Not that the money has anything to do with it. I mean to say—"

  "Quite. So you, too, have been caught in parson's mousetrap, George. All the old crowd is breaking up. Andy, you..." Noble desolation sat on his brow.

  "There's always Sally Gardener. She might have you."

  Dallan gave a chilly stare, followed by an incredulous little smile, and left to speak to Wickham. Sally Gardener! Good God, next he would be suggesting Peg, from Jack Duck's Tavern. Fear nibbled at the edges of his mind, but at least he had a noble companion to suffer with.

  "Wickham," he said, with a bow. "What brings you to church, you old sinner?"

  Wickham nodded. "Dallan. I was surprised you weren't at the assembly last night."

  "I didn't hear you were there!"

  "I dropped in for a moment."

  "Then no doubt you heard of my disgrace."

  "I pay no heed to rumors." His eager eye belied this claim. "Some little misunderstanding arose between you and Miss Cummings, I believe?" he prompted.

  Aware that there was also difficulty between Wickham and Miss Cummings, Dallan was happy to throw himself into such exalted company. No disgrace in being turned down by her, when she had jilted a lord and owner of an abbey as well. "We were out-maneuvered by the London beaux," he said,
with a worldly laugh. "Pincombe, I believe, is Miss Cummings's choice. Sir Nigel Pincombe."

  "Is it a serious attachment?" he asked, hiding his concern as well as he could.

  "It must be, or she would have had you. I mean to say, Sir Nigel Pincombe, whoever heard of him? But in affairs of the heart, you know, ladies don't know where their best interests lie."

  Wickham's eyes traveled across the yards to where Sir Nigel stood with Cecilia. The name Pincombe wasn't familiar to him, but he thought the handsome gallant must be a great favorite in London. "As you say, it must be a long-standing attachment. Miss Cummings could do better, from a worldly point of view."

  They were joined by Mr. Wideman. "G'day, Wickham," he said, then turned to Dallan. "Are you coming along to Meachams with us? Alice says she thinks Martha would see you."

  "Martha?" Wickham asked in surprise. "I thought it was Miss Cummings you had offered for, Dallan?"

  "Oh, as to that," Dallan said, blushing like a green cow, "I was a little disguised, if you want the truth. I always meant to have Martha."

  "How very odd that you should offer for her cousin! I never heard you say a kind word about Miss Meacham."

  "I didn't really appreciate her till..." He frowned, trying to recall just when his love life had gone so wildly astray.

  "Till Miss Cummings came," Wideman told him. "It's a great secret. You must not say a word, but I had it of Alice that Miss Cummings came for the express purpose of getting husbands for her cousins. It's a kind of hobby, which is very odd, for she has no interest at all in getting married herself."

  "What about Pincombe?" Wickham asked. It didn't occur to him that he was gossiping like a youngster, and was very much interested in what he was hearing, too.

  "They are old friends. Well, are you coming or not, Henley? Miss Cummings won't be there. She is dining out with her London friends. Someone invited them all to lunch."

  With the last obstacle removed from his path, Dallan said, "If you're sure I wouldn't be imposing."