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Authors: Joan Smith

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I love helping ladies choose their bonnets,

he said.

I, being nothing else but a fashionable fribble, shall advise you on all the latest London modes, and you shall help me choose some marchpane for Mrs. Swann.


I recommend the one with nuts and cherries. It

s  lovely! Harriet

she

s my friend at Bath

bought me some for my birthday.


It won

t do for Mrs. Swann. She has difficulty in chewing,

he said discreetly, for it seemed rude to say she was missing half her teeth.


Then you already know what you must buy. You don

t need my help.


I didn

t invite you to come with me because I need help, Miss Lonsdale, but because I enjoy your company,

he said, and tucking her hand under his arm, they set off down the High Street.

They stopped at the first milliner

s shop they came to and looked in the window.


That one is rather pretty,

Jane said, admiring a navy glazed straw bonnet with a low poke.

Fenwick shook his head. “You’re out of the classroom now, ma’am. Let us go for something a little more dashing. This is a shop for older ladies. Why, it doesn’t even have a French name,” he said, pointing to the sign that read
Miss Daly, Purveyor of Millinery to the Quality.

All the better milliners pretend they

re French, you must know.


Yes, and charge twice the price for the honor of being able to say the bonnet came from Mademoiselle Dubois, instead of Miss Wood.

“But one is also allowed to call the bonnet a
chapeau.
That is worth something. A bonnet is like perfume. One pays for more than the actual product. It should make you feel feminine and alluring. What price can be put on that?


About a guinea, I should think. Bonnets are double the price in those pseudo-French shops. I like value for my hard-earned money.


Actually, that was a rhetorical question. I see I must watch my words with you. You are literal minded. I meant that no price is too high to pay for the satisfaction of knowing you look your best, being in style. You have two hundred pounds in your hot little hands. Don

t be such a skint.

When he saw her staring at him, he stopped.

God, I sound a fool!


You are the one who said it,

she chided.

Jane didn

t think he sounded foolish; only rich, and spoiled. Perhaps she would splurge and try a more stylish shop. They strolled along, stopping at various windows to look at the goods. Fenwick bought an enameled snuffbox from France, decorated with a copy of a Fragonard scene of a lady in a swing, because she reminded him of Jane. Its cost equaled a week of Jane

s wages at the academy.


I

ve never seen you use snuff,

she mentioned.


I don

t,

he admitted sheepishly,

but I happen to adore Fragonard. And it will make a handy container for headache powders or some such thing.

He had a weakness for snuffboxes. A dozen of them sat on his toilet table at home, empty.

They stopped at the confectioner

s, where Fenwick bought a box of plain marchpane for Mrs. Swann. While Jane chose some sweets as a present for Fay, he also bought a box of cherry and nut sweets for Jane, and had them both put in one parcel to keep hers as a surprise when they parted.


Shall we get your bonnet next, or shall we pay our duty visit to the church first? Let us visit the church. Duty before pleasure, and I shall be carrying a hatbox once you have made your purchase. That is not a complaint, by the by.

“We don’t
have
to visit the church,

she said.


Very well, let us save that treat for another outing and go to see the river instead.

The River Colne was hardly more than a stream, but it was pretty, with a couple of picturesque stone bridges spanning it. Across the bridge, the Arlington Row almshouses and the mill, built of stone like most of the local buildings, were the main features. The young couple strolled along in the sunshine, with a light breeze fanning their cheeks. As they returned, they stopped midway across the bridge to look at the water.


Oh, look! There are fish!

Jane exclaimed, as the silver bodies flashed in the stream.


Trout. By Jove, I wish I had my fishing rod. We would have fresh trout for dinner. But then that would spoil Mrs. Swann

s menu,

he added with a teasing laugh.

You are in for a rare evening, Miss Lonsdale.


What do you mean?

“I shan’t spoil it by telling you, but I have a feeling Miss Prism would approve of how things are done
chez
Swann.


How provoking you are! Do tell me.


No, no. It

s to be a surprise.

Jane gave a sigh.

If Miss Prism would approve, then I daresay we are having minced mutton and bread pudding.

Again Fenwick felt the familiar stab of pity.

Good Lord! Is that what she fed you?


Yes, and she charges such shocking prices. Imagine, feeding the daughters of gentlemen such wretched food.


Imagine feeding Miss Lonsdale such a diet,

he said, squeezing her fingers consolingly.

At least the gentlemen

s daughters can eat properly when they go home.


I, too, am a gentleman

s daughter,

she said with a rebukeful look.

He said hastily, “I was not implying otherwise. The
other
gentlemen

s daughters, I should have said. I meant the students.

He wondered at her leaping on his little slip, until it occurred to him how tenuous her hold on gentility had been, when she was left alone in the world. She guarded it fiercely, for without it she would be sunk beneath social redemption, reduced to some menial labor.

She accepted his explanation and said,

I shall never eat bread pudding again, as long as I live. I don

t care if I starve, I shall never eat bread pudding again.


You will not be offered it tonight, at any rate. It was not the food I meant, but
—”
She looked at him expectantly.

Never mind batting your long lashes at me, minx. I

m not going to spoil the surprise. Now, let us go and choose your bonnet.

They went to the other millinery shop in the village. Jane held that

long lashes

to her heart as though it were golden.

“Miss White’s,” he said, peering in the window. “Bibury is a decade behind the times. This should be Mademoiselle Blanche, for I see the
chapeaux
are a cut above Miss Daly

s wares.

The prices were higher than Jane was accustomed to paying, but they were not exorbitant. She quelled down the urge to try on the more dashing bonnets Fenwick suggested, and chose a bonnet with a medium poke and a small rim, which just suited her modest style of beauty.


It is you,

Fenwick conceded, with more resignation than pleasure, as his eyes flickered over her plain serge pelisse.


In other words, you think it

s dowdy,

she said.


Don

t put words in my mouth! I think it is eminently sensible, yet with a touch of distinction. Not a bonnet to turn heads, but a close examination shows its quality.


I expect you mean well, but I would have preferred a flattering lie,

she said, with that artless candor that he found amusing.

I

m tired of being sensible.


Always happy to oblige, ma

am. That is the most ravishing bonnet it has ever been my privilege to set eyes on. It puts London bonnets to the blush.

“Thank you for the effort, but a compliment is no good when you have to
pry
it out of a gentleman.


It really looks very nice,

he said uncertainly.

She gave
a tsk
of disbelief, although he did think it looked nice.

Let us go back now,

she said, when Miss White handed Fenwick the hatbox.

I want to make sure Aunt Fay takes some exercise. She

s too idle, and she eats more than she ought, out of boredom. She

ll fall into flesh if I let her.

Fenwick just shook his head.

Still a schoolteacher at heart, eh, Miss Lonsdale? You can take the teacher out of the schoolroom, but you cannot take the schoolroom out of the teacher.


Since you have discovered my tendency to didacticism, then I might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb. I think it was rash of you to buy a snuffbox when you don

t take snuff.

Fenwick delved into his bag and handed her the box of marchpane.

Here is salt for the wound, shrew! I not only squandered a whole guinea on a snuffbox, I also bought you this

and it isn

t even your birthday. Go ahead, tell me it will ruin your teeth, or your complexion, or your figure. It

s clear I can do nothing right.

Jane stared at the box, while a soft smile stole across her lips, and rose to lighten her eyes. She felt the most lowering fear she was going to cry. No gentleman had ever bought her bonbons before. She had to pinch her lower lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling.


Thank you, Lord Fenwick,

she said in a choked voice.

I hope I am not so ungracious as to say any of those things. That was very thoughtful of you.

She peered into the box.

And it has cherries and nuts, too! You remembered.


You

re welcome,

he said, embarrassed at her lavish praise.


The snuffbox is very pretty,

she said, with an air of apology.

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

You don

t have to patronize me. My feelings are not so delicate as that.


Is that what I was doing? I was trying to apologize for putting my oar in where it didn

t belong.


You were right. When you don

t have to work for your money, you don

t watch how you spend it. You

re good for me, Aunt Jane. You will be reforming me if we aren

t careful.

With a brash but charming smile, he took her elbow and accompanied her out of the shop. “Aunt Jane.” She would not put that in her letter to Harriet. It cast a shadow on the afternoon’s pleasure. So that was how he saw her, as a maiden aunt. And here she had thought he rather liked her.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

By the time Jane returned to Wildercliffe, it was too late to go out for a walk. Her Aunt Fay had ventured into the garden at least. Jane found her taking the sun on the west terrace, which gave a view of the gardens, with rich fields behind, and in the distance the hazy green of trees. Strange to think all this vast estate belonged to her aunt. Almost impossible to believe that a working lady could end up a countess.


I

m sorry we were so long,

Jane said.

We went for a little walk. Lord Fenwick helped me pick out a new bonnet.

Her aunt looked at her askance. A glance showed her that Jane still wore the glow of pleasurable excitement. Fay was sorry to have to do it, but she felt she must disillusion the girl.


I can see why any lady would be attracted to Fenwick, of course. He has that air of glamour.... But it would be foolish of you to expect anything to come of it, Jane. I don

t want to see you hurt. Swann is your man, if you

re on the lookout for a husband.


I

m in no hurry, now that you and I are settled so comfortably here,

she replied.

But her blush told the story. The foolish chit was  becoming too fond of Fenwick.

Nor am I in a hurry to lose you. Swann will be here long after Fenwick runs back to his London friends. We shall see if anything comes of it. Swann is a nice, comfortable fellow. If he had a wife to see he brushed his jacket and combed his hair, he would not be bad looking either.

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