Anna Jacobs (26 page)

“You’ve been making a mountain out of a molehill, Beatrice,” he said softly, his expression tender.

He planted another kiss on her cheek before adding, “We’ll find a way through this tangle without upsetting your aunt, I promise you. I’m not giving you up. And you are going to marry me.”

She stared at him for a moment, then gave in to temptation and leaned against him, putting one arm round him in the most shockingly familiar manner, feeling amazed at how natural that felt. “You keep coming to my rescue,” she said, with a ghost of a chuckle.

“You obviously need me around, then, or who knows what other troubles you will fall into.” He could see her lips curving gently into a smile and put a finger under her chin to make her look up at him again. “We shall be married as soon as possible,” he continued in a voice that brooked no argument. “You can’t possibly manage everything here on your own.” He put a finger on her lips to prevent her from speaking as he added, “I can’t bear to live without you for much longer, my darling.”

Tears overflowed from her eyes. “Oh, Justin, how can I be so selfish as to accept?” she whispered.

‘How can you think I’d marry anyone else? But I do see that you care deeply about your aunt.’

“Especially now.”

“She’s failing, isn’t she?”

“Yes. “

“Blame it all on me. And never forget that I need you, too.”

Her hand stole up to caress his soft, dark hair. “Do you? Do you really?”

“Oh, yes. Life would be unbearable without you.”

“And - and do you really think we can do this without upsetting my aunt?” Hope was growing in her and joy was beginning to sing along her veins.

“I’m sure of it. Will you marry me, Beatrice? You haven’t replied to my proposal and I’m feeling rejected and forlorn.”

“Oh, Justin! I - “ She did not seem able to breathe properly when she was so close to him.

His grip tightened. “No more prevarication. Yes or no?”

She looked up at him with a radiant smile. “Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, dearest Justin.” She was suddenly surprised that she’d even considered any other course of action. A great weight seemed to fall from her shoulders as she spoke.

A cough from the doorway made them both turn round. Eleanor came in, shutting the door behind her and saying with mock severity, “Dear me, Beatrice, a lady should never show her feelings in public! Or allow herself to be alone with a gentleman to whom she is not related.”

Justin wouldn’t allow Beatrice to move from the shelter of his arms. “You may be the first to congratulate us, Miss Impertinence.”

Eleanor squealed and rushed to plant a kiss on Beatrice’s face, hesitated, then hugged Serle as well. “Oh, I’m so glad! I was at my wit’s end as to how to bring you two together!”

Two faces gaped at her and she said airily. “Well, I couldn’t help but see how you both felt. I know Bea too well and your feelings showed sometimes when you looked at her, Mr Serle.”

“Impertinence is not a strong enough word for you, young lady!” He said with mock severity. “And my friends and relatives usually call me Justin.”

She pulled a face at him. “Justin, then.”

“Eleanor, you won’t say anything until we can tell Aunt Marguerite, will you?” Beatrice begged.” Not to anyone. Promise me! The slightest shock could kill her.”

The laughter left Eleanor’s face. “Is that why you were being so noble about Serle and me? Is she - really bad?”

Beatrice nodded. The two of them clasped hands, for the thought of losing the old termagant who’d looked after them both for the past ten years caused a pain too deep for words.

The door started to open and Justin moved away from Beatrice as Mrs. Smeathley sailed in. “I came to see how you were, Beatrice,” she said. “We were worried about you, and it’s not seemly to stay here alone with a gentleman. Surely your maid should have been summoned to attend you by now? In fact, I think you should go and lie down until you have recovered from the shock of your aunt’s illness.”

Eleanor cleared her throat. “You don’t seem to have noticed, Mrs.  Smeathley, but Beatrice is not alone with a gentleman! I’m here, too.”

“You are an unmarried lady.”

“It’s very kind of you to worry,” Justin said, frowning at Eleanor to make her keep quiet, “but I think we can leave Miss Dencey to her niece’s tender care. Allow me to escort you back to the drawing room.”

He held out his arm in so imperative a manner that Mrs. Smeathley obeyed him meekly. At the door Justin turned to smile briefly across the room at his love, his heart lifting at the answering softening of her eyes, then he led the older lady inexorably out.

Beatrice, who was still looking pale, agreed to go and rest for a while, so Eleanor escorted her to her room, left her in Tilly’s devoted hands and then went to look for Crispin. She couldn’t tell him Bea’s glorious news yet, but she wanted to be with him for a while, until she had grown accustomed to the thought of losing her grandmother in the near future.

Instead she met Augustus Smeathley, parading majestically to and fro on the terrace. He hastened toward her. “My dear, my very dear Miss Graceover, how is your grandmother?”

“Sleeping. The doctor gave her a draught and told us to stop her from doing so much. It’s exhaustion, he thinks.”

“She wishes to see you safely established before the Lord calls her to Him. One can see that she knows the end to be near.” He said this perfectly calmly, with no hint of regret or sorrow sounding in his voice.

Eleanor found that by digging her nails into the palms of her hands she could prevent herself from speaking sharply. Taking a deep breath, she managed to say calmly, “Do you think so? She’s said nothing to me about it.”

“A clergyman has some experience of the types of things which cause concern to those whose days are numbered,” he intoned, as loudly as if he were preaching in church.

A passing gardener stopped to stare at them in surprise.

“Pray come for a walk among the roses,” she said hastily. “I want to pick a bunch for Grandmamma’s room. Flowers always cheer one up, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, yes. Flowers are one of our Lord’s most beautiful gifts to mankind.” He escorted her with measured steps to the rose gardens and as soon as they were out of sight of the house, he fell upon one knee before her. “Miss Graceover, I cannot keep quiet any longer. Words cannot express how I feel. Suffice it to say that one glance was enough to show me that you were the one above all others whom I should wish to take as my wife.”

“It was Beatrice you came here to meet,” Eleanor could not resist pointing out.

“I believe that was mentioned as a possibility. But as soon as I saw you, I knew the Lord had destined us for one another. And I could see you felt the same.”

She stared at him in amazement. Did he really think this was the way to propose to someone? Or to speak to the woman he was supposed to be in love with?

“Although our fortunes are not equal,” he continued, hardly seeming to look at her, gazing mostly up at the sky, “I can offer you a high position in the world, for I have every expectation of being offered a bishopric in the not too distant future.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands and giving way to her sense of the ridiculous, “I am not worthy of such an honour!”

He rose from his knee and carefully dusted his trousers. “Have no fear on that score, my dear girl. You may be young and inexperienced, but under my guidance, you will learn all you need to know to support me in life as a wife should.”

He seemed to take it for granted that she’d accepted him and went on to describe the house he currently occupied, a most superior type of residence, though smaller than he liked, and then detailed the glories to be expected of a bishop’s palace. He made no attempt to take her into his arms or even to kiss her cheek, but expounded with immense enthusiasm upon the topic of his own dazzling future in the ecclesiastical hierarchies.

She soon grew bored with this and decided that she couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer. “I must retire to my room. I’m quite overset by your offer, Mr Smeathley.”

“The female mind is easily thrown into turmoil,” he said in a kindly tone, nodding at her. “Fear not! Once we are married, I shall protect you from all problems and guide you carefully through the mazes of life.”

“I haven’t accepted you yet.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She raised her voice. “I said: I haven’t accepted you yet.”

He stared at her through narrowed eyes, and then blinked, as if seeing her for the first time.

She stared back at him and shook her head decisively. “Nor shall I!”

“What did you say?”

“Nor shall I accept you.” She enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “You’re too old for me and far too mercenary. And,” she added, carried away by the pleasure of giving him a well-deserved set-down, “I shall tell Bea about your proposal and beg her not to marry you, either. Well, she wouldn’t marry anyone I disliked and besides, I don’t think she’s taken to you herself.”

When she saw his furious expression, she realized she’d gone a bit too far and wished she’d just offered him a simple rejection. He took a step forward, looking so menacing that she took a hasty step backwards, feeling suddenly afraid of him.

“Why, you little - “

To her relief, she saw Crispin at the other side of the rose garden and fled to his side, calling, “Cousin Crispin! Will you please escort me to my grandmother’s rooms?” She laid her hand on his and nipped his arm imperatively. Taking the hint, he inclined his head to Smeathley and led her away rapidly.

They did not, however, return to the house, but went and walked up and down near the ornamental pool.

“What was all that about, might I ask?” he asked curtly. “What has that damned fellow been saying to you?”

“Well - um, he was just proposing to me,” she said, trying to sound airy, but only managing to sound as nervous as she felt.

Crispin’s voice was so stern she shivered.

“I see. Well, you’ve certainly been encouraging him to think you might favour his suit, so that was only to be expected!” A pause, then, “And did you accept him?”

“Of course I didn’t!”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose.” But his tone was still cool.

“In fact, I not only told him I wouldn’t dream of marrying him, but I s-said I didn’t like him, either, and would tell Beatrice not to marry him.” She was biting her lip as she added, “Only after I said that -well, I felt a bit afraid of him. He’s so very - large.”

“It never pays to tamper with someone’s affections, Eleanor. Even those of a fellow like him.” He eyed her and said firmly, “I’ve been thinking things over and have decided that as soon as the Dowager has recovered, I shall seek an interview with her - and the earlier, the better. I categorically refuse to continue with this deceit any longer!”

She had never seen him in this mood before. All she could think of to say was, “Yes, Crispin.”

“And mind you don’t start flirting with anyone else!” He spoiled the masterful effect by smiling at her as he added, “Until we’re married, you’re only allowed to flirt with me. And after that, I shall expect you to be a dutiful wife.”

“Oh, yes, Crispin,” she said enthusiastically and they both broke into laughter.

As they got to the south end of the water garden, Eleanor couldn’t resist peeping through the hedge at the rose gardens. “He’s still pacing up and down,” she announced.

Crispin leaned forward to look and they saw Mr Smeathley pick up a piece of fallen branch and swish it viciously at a particularly fine bush, sending a shower of blood-red petals fluttering across the path.

“What a despicable thing to do!” she muttered. “That’s Grandmamma’s favourite rose bush.”

“Shh. We don’t want him to see us spying on him.

“I wonder what he’s thinking. He still looks angry.”

Swish! went the stick and another rose bush lost its blooms, then Mr Smeathley’s expression became thoughtful and he tossed away the stick.

“Come away,” Crispin said. “I’ve had enough of looking at that fellow to last me a lifetime.”

Ten minutes later, as they were sitting in a leafy arbour, with his arm round her shoulders, they heard footsteps and saw Augustus Smeathley pass by with a grim air.

“What can he be doing?” she asked in astonishment. “That path leads only to the woods.”

“Whatever it is, you are not to interfere!” he ordered.

She pulled a face at him and subsided against him again. But they didn’t see Mr Smeathley coming back, though they stayed in the arbour for quite a long time. And she couldn’t help wondering what he had been doing. And what he had been thinking about to bring that look of grim determination to his face.

* * * *

Dinner that evening was a brief meal, with little conversation. Beatrice took the foot of the table and begged Crispin to sit at its head, opposite her.

Mrs. Smeathley couldn’t conceal her annoyance, for she felt that, as the oldest lady present, she should have been awarded this honoured position. What was Miss Dencey, after all, but a poor relative? Consequently, she sat in majestic sulks for the whole meal.

As no one else commented on the seating arrangements and everyone treated Miss Dencey as the hostess, she was even angrier with the young woman by the time the meal ended. Consequently, when her son asked for her help, she was quite prepared to do what he wanted. Not that she approved of his plans, but he was her son and she would be glad to help him to a fortune - and anyway, it served that young woman right.

Beatrice begged the company to excuse her immediately after dinner. “I wish to see how my aunt is feeling and check arrangements for her care during the night.”

Eleanor, who was hoping to have a chat with Crispin, went into the drawing-room and began to play softly upon the piano, but Augustus stuck firmly close to the two of them, as if determined to prevent a tête-à-tête. He was insistently affable, as if the incident in the rose garden had never occurred, but he still made Eleanor shiver when he narrowed his eyes and looked down his nose at her in an assessing way.

Justin followed Beatrice from the room and managed to have a word alone with her before she retired by dint of simply pulling her into the library and sweeping her into his arms.