by Joan Smith
“No, no—hardly that bad. Or on the other hand, you might consider it worse. I would be the one to pity you, if you accepted him. He goes in for such an abundance of things. A dozen of them—really!”
“Is he setting up a harem?”
“No, not a harem. Who is to say he wouldn’t go on to try for a baker’s dozen too? There would be no end to it.”
My curiosity soared higher, and to make it worse, the dance was ending. “You must tell me. You can’t leave me like this,” I said urgently.
“I often say that to the ladies. It don’t do a bit of good, Wendy. Don’t ask again. It’s not nice to throw a tantrum at a ball.”
The music ended, confronting us with that embarrassing moment when a lady is in a gentleman’s arms, and more aware of it than when the music is playing. He looked down into my eyes, with one of his satirical smiles forming. “If you feel you must know, ask Ev. He'll tell you without blinking. He’s told everyone else in town.”
“I hate you.” I smiled sweetly, the smile for Althea’s benefit. I disengaged myself from his arms, as he seemed to have forgotten it was time for it.
“I knew how it would be! I have a theory about violent emotions, however.”
“You had better remove yourself from my sight, before that old Grecian theory about the bearer of bad news is fulfilled.”
“You haven’t heard the bad news yet.”
“I know it is bad, or you wouldn’t be smiling. I have a theory of my own as well.”
“I adore theories,” he said, tucking my arm under his to leave the floor. “Please let me hear it.”
“You are making this whole story up to annoy me. Liars ought to be beaten.”
“Severely,” he agreed amiably. “That is a demmed sparse theory, by the by. It wants refining. Are you interested to hear mine, regarding violent emotions?”
“No.”
“Liars ought to be beaten,” he reminded me. “Instead, I shall hit you over the head with my stunning theory, which I developed with only a little help from Lord Byron. It is really quite intriguing. Emotions are reversible, like quilts. The other side of hate is love, and vice versa. It is the absence of emotion that is dangerous. Once you manage to get a lady into a pelter, she is as good as won. Tell me truthfully now, do you hate Everett?”
“Not yet. I haven’t heard why he wants to marry me.”
“You don’t love him, either, and you never will.”
“I never said I did, or would.”
“True, but you said you hate me,” he pointed out, raising one finger to wag at me.
My violent emotion felt not the slightest urge to reverse itself. “I think I am beginning to hate you too,” he added, with a curiously warm smile, just before he turned aside to ask another lady to dance.
* * *
Chapter 18
I could only conclude Menrod had drunk more wine than was good for him. I expected to see him topple over dead drunk before the night was through. Actually I saw little more of him, except his head and shoulders through the throng of dancers. He was being flirtatious with every eligible lady at the ball, except Lady Althea. To show his disdain for her, he did not stand up with her again the whole night. He was the host, and nothing more, where she was concerned.
Mr. Everett was more solicitous of my welfare. He came strutting back for another dance after dinner. “How did you like the ices?” he enquired, as they were his contribution to the party.
“Very nice.”
“It was the pewter pots that turned the trick for the ladies,” he told me. “There is no making a decent un-slivered ice with a tin freezing pot. Shall we stand up and have another jig? I like a country tune. I begin to think I must have a ball at Oakdene. Lady Althea says she would give us a hand with arranging it.”
“I doubt she will linger long in the neighborhood after this ball,” I told him.
“She has indicated she will stick around for a while,” he answered.
“Has she indeed?” I asked, always surprised at his intimacy with her. “I begin to think she is setting her tiara for you, Mr. Everett,” I said, to roast him.
A girlish blush suffused his face. “Heh heh—I would be aiming high, to go for an earl’s daughter. But it is only a thought, after all. In the eyes of the world, I am engaged to you at the present, and very happy I’d be if you said yes, too.”
It was my chance to discover what he had told Menrod, and I was not about to miss it. “Let us skip the country dance,” I said. “Shall we go to the refreshment parlor instead?”
“There won’t be a soul there, immediately after dinner,” he pointed out.
“Precisely.”
I walked quickly toward it, with Everett stiff-kneeing it beside me. Menrod was at the ballroom door. He raised his brows and gave me an arch smile. “The moment of truth,” he said softly as I strode past, ignoring him.
“A dandy party,” Everett complimented.
The parlor was as private as I could wish. “Dare I hope you have brought me here to give your consent to wear my ring at last, Wendy?” Everett asked.
“Mr. Everett, why do you want to marry me?” I asked baldly.
He nodded his approval, or at least consent, to the question. He thought a moment, then spoke. “I can see what may have set you wondering about it, as you are not so young or so pretty as you once were,” he began, not maliciously, but as a reasonable man answering a reasonable question. I stood mute with astonishment, while an incipient fury gathered in my bosom.
“Please continue,” I invited.
“I was about to. The reasons are pretty clear, I think. A man of my age and in my position ought to have a wife. I have a large fortune to leave someone, and would prefer to leave it to my own flesh and blood. My brother Thomas has a daughter, but she would only run through my hard-earned cash. I would prefer to leave it to an Everett, a chip off this very old block, you might say. So first off, you are genteel—you speak well, have good connections due to your sister’s marriage, have a good reputation, seem to manage the cottage well enough, and all that. Second off, and really the most important thing in my eyes, you will make a good mother. I plan a large nursery—eight or nine lads, throw in a few daughters to please yourself, and you are looking at a dozen kiddies.”
“Why not a baker’s dozen?” I asked stiffly.
“The more the merrier. I know you are fond of kiddies; you even find a tender spot for your little backward nevvie. To top it all off, I like you. You are a good, sensible gel, ladylike, without putting on fine airs. I don’t have to point out the advantages of the match to yourself. You know what I have to offer. I’m willing to take your mama along into the bargain, and even your sister’s kiddies if the case goes in your favor, which Menrod assures me it won’t. As well hang for a sheep as a lamb. There’s room for them all. An even fifty bedchambers await you at Oakdene. Wait, I tell a lie. I knocked a wall down between a pair of them, leaving us forty-nine, but one of them is a whopper.”
“Forty-nine should be sufficient.”
“So is it a bargain, my girl?” he asked heartily.
“I am very sensible of the honor you do me, Mr. Everett, but I really must decline.”
“I have left out the best part, the settlement. I am willing to settle a substantial sum on you. What do you have to say to twenty-five thousand in your own right, eh?”
“Very generous, but I still must decline.”
“It is true what they’re whispering, then. You are dangling after the title. You’ll catch cold at that. Lady Althea tells me there is no possibility of your nabbing Menrod. He cavorts with duchesses and princesses in the city, and has no opinion at all of country-bred girls. He would never settle for a minister’s dowerless daughter. You’ll not do better than George Everett,” he told me, prodding his chest with his index finger a couple of times, to make clear he spoke of himself.
“I could do much worse, but my mind is made up.”
"Then we’d best put the notice
into the papers that it is over—or a mistake. Word it up any way you choose, but do it right away, if you will be so kind.”
“You may depend on it, it will be in tomorrow’s paper.”
“Not unless you take the notice to Reading tonight. Let us look for it the day after tomorrow.”
“It will be done tonight,” I answered firmly.
“It is up to you. So I am free, then?”
“Perfectly free.”
“It is an odd world, surely,” he said, pulling out his white box to admire the ring. “I had a notion the ball might put you into a marrying mood, and brought this along with me. She’s a dandy ring. It set me back...”
“You will find someone to appreciate it,” I told him. My anger dissolved. I felt sorry for him, with all his worldly goods, and no one on whom to bestow them.
‘‘We’ll remain good friends. I don’t want to be at odds with my neighbors. It is not as if we had ever been lovers, but only friends, and we won’t let this stand in the way of our relations. I’ll finish up the roof, just as though we were to be married. Though I suppose there will be no harm in letting Menrod bear the expense now, as he wants to do.”
“By all means, let him.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow to do it, now that the ball is over. I think I shall have brandied ices at my ball,” he said. That quickly he put aside the memory of our recent talk.
“That will be lovely.”
“Lady Althea has a receipt for it. If we are finished our talk, I’ll go along and pester her for it now. Unless you want to join in the tail end of the dance?” he asked punctiliously.
“I will just stay here and rest for a moment.”
“I’ll get you a glass of wine. Afraid I cannot offer champagne...” He insisted when I refused.
I sat with an unwanted glass of wine between my ringers, reviewing my disgrace, and my anger with Everett. A female servant came to refresh the ice tray in which the punch sat. She smiled; I smiled back, neither of us speaking. Another form appeared at the door. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the black jacket, and realized it was a guest, to whom I would be required to make some polite speech.
“Is it safe to come in?” Menrod called from the doorway.
“Enter at your own peril.”
He advanced at a tentative pace. “That heaving bosom tells me you have asked Everett the question, and worse, that he has answered, with his usual disarming candor.”
“That man is an outrage!”
“He hasn’t much breeding, I fear, but he plans to do a deal of it. I admire his choice of mate.”
“I am not a brood mare.”
“Think of yourself as a plant, sending out tender shoots. You will make an excellent mama. It would be good for you too, Wendy, to have children to water and nurse, instead of plants.”
“I prefer plants.”
“They’re friendly,” he agreed, taking a chair beside me. “A trifle lacking in conversation...”
“They are not lacking in manners and consideration, at least.”
“I have a well-behaved fern in my study you might like to meet. He tells me he is thinking of getting married. His spores are all in an uproar—it is the season that accounts for it.”
“I have had enough for one night. And the wretch even called Ralph ‘backward’ again. I should have hit him.”
“I was sure you would. I loitered outside the door in case I should have to bolt to his aid.”
“I am going home now. Thank you for the interesting evening, Menrod.”
“ 'Mi casa, su casa,’ as they say in Spain. They have such charming manners there, between brawls. Did you—ah—get the situation straightened out with Everett?”
“Perfectly straight.”
“The next step is to inform the beau monde, or the few beaux ardents that will be interested, at least.”
“This conversation would be more intelligible to me if we both spoke English.”
“I speak in foreign tongues when I am upset—excited.”
“I don’t see what you have to be upset about!”
“I too am interested in the outcome. Coyness and vacillation are all well and good in a maiden, but there comes a time, you know, when we fellows like to know where we stand, and like others to know it too.”
“You can read the retraction in tomorrow’s paper, if you are interested.”
“I am interested, but I shan’t be reading it. I owe myself a holiday, after this sojourn in the country. There is nothing so debilitating as a long rest.”
“Are you going to London?”
“No, the Season is not on yet. I am going to Brighton.”
“Oh.” I digested this for a moment, then discovered a troublesome point. “You’re running away from Gwendolyn’s wrath!” I charged. “You are trying to stick me with the task of calming her down, placating her, while you jaunt about the seaside with Prinny and his rackety friends.”
“You wrong me; every way you wrong me, Gwendolyn,” he answered, shaking his head sadly. “I am not such a paltry fellow as to flee the wrath of a child. I am taking it with me—both the wrath and the child. It is the full-grown woman’s wrath I am fleeing.”
“I would not reward her for her tantrum.”
“Was there ever such a dissatisfied woman as you! You complain that I leave her, then that I take her with me. What would you have me do? Stay? Say the word, and it will be done.”
“I don’t want you to change your plans on my behalf.”
“I already have, to an alarming degree, but I shan’t this time. The Manor will be vacant, except for servants, if you and your mother would like to come while your own cottage is being put to rights.”
“I hope that is not why you are going?”
“Not at all. That has nothing to do with it. It is only that you will not like to go to Oakdene now, after turning Everett off. He is a pattern card of civility and generosity, but even his good nature must be strained at that.”
“We’ll stay home.”
“As you wish. If you change your mind after your first bout of anger with Everett passes, pray feel free to come. I shall leave word with my people you may be coming.”
“Are you taking Ralph with you too?”
“Yes.”
“How long do you plan to stay?” I asked.
“Till my six-weeks’ interim custody period has lapsed. Then I must make a visit to London.”
“There should be no difficulty now. I am withdrawing my suit. They are yours. I shall miss them,” I said, already feeling the first pang of loss. How dull and quiet it would be with them gone. Menrod going too. His visits were not always welcome, but they were a lively diversion. Even Mr. Everett would decrease the frequency of his visits, though he would not stop them altogether.
“You may miss them so much you want them after all. Odd you did not think to accuse me of that trick, instead of inventing a different one. That sets you thinking, I see.”
“Don’t aggravate me. Be firm with Gwen, Menrod. Don’t let her get the bit in her teeth, or you’ll never control her. And about Ralph—don’t be too hard on him. He is only a baby still. Oh, I miss him already!”
“If you find the parting unbearable, come to visit us. My house on Marine Parade is large enough to house us all. Then you can see for yourself I am neither a tyrant nor a fool.”
“It is an odd time to be going to Brighton. You more usually go after the London Season, do you not? It will be chilly there in early April, too early to enjoy swimming.”
“We are not going to swim, but to relax, unwind, do some thinking. There is this great emotional sea roiling all around us that must be calmed.”
“I hope you have a pleasant holiday,” I said, arising to find my mother and go home.
“I expect it will be grueling and unpleasant. My best hope is that it will be effective. You are not rid of us just yet, however. I shall take the children to the cottage tomorrow to take their leave of you.”
He
ordered our carriage, got Mama away from the card room, and stayed with us till we left, chatting at the door. I went straight home and wrote my notice for the newspaper, and gave it to Pudge to take into town that very night. My mother was nonplussed.
“What is the hurry, Wendy? Surely it can wait till morning.”
“They work all night, setting up the paper. I want it in tomorrow’s news. We have left the horses standing ready outside.”
“Sleep on it, dear.”
“I won’t sleep till it is finished, once for all.”
“Commune with your heart upon your bed before taking such a giant step,” Mrs. Pudge cautioned. She and Pudge would not dream of going to bed before seeing us up the stairs, if we stayed up till dawn, and it was not far from it by then.
“I have communed with my heart till I am tired of it.”
“You’ll never get another such offer,” Mama warned.
“I should hope not.”
“Like the daughters of Israel,” Mrs. Pudge told her. “Their daughters were not given to marriage either. A harvest of old maids is what we’ll have on our hands, with a plague and a pestilence thrown in, after this night’s work.”
“You never had a good word to say for Everett,” I reminded her.
“At least he didn’t steal away my Lady, like some heathens we could name. Run along, then, Pudge, and post her notice, if she insists on making a parable of herself. We’ll not get our ears on our pillows till dawn as it is. I hope I’m not expected to have breakfast on the table at eight in the morning.”
“Sleep till noon if you like,” I offered wildly. “I plan to.”
The notice was written and taken to Reading that same night. A good thing it was, too. Everett’s engagement to Lady Althea was printed directly below it in the morning paper. He had taken me at my word that I would free him immediately. What a fool I would have looked had Althea beat me to the paper with her notice. We learned of the two announcements long before noon. The men began their hammering on the roof at eight.
“Like a bottle in the smoke,” was Mrs. Pudge’s obscure comment when she read the two notices. “This will be a wonder unto many. The town will be alive with it. We’ll never live it down. It would take a prince on a white charger, at least, to redeem you from this shameful misery.”