The Heiress Companion (13 page)

Miss Cherwood took this all with equanimity, producing a
handkerchief she had provided for the occasion, and mopped Miss Ambercot’s eyes
while clucking comforting noises in her ear. At last, when both women were
about equally damp, Jane found words to explain her distress.

“It was that odious man, the doctor’s helper —”

“Greavesey?” Rowena lifted an eloquent eyebrow in amazement.
“He
was
busy today, wasn’t he?”

“I was sitting in the shade, waiting for Jack and he — not
Jack, your odious Mr. Greavesey — he came by and I said hello. I swear, that is
the only thing that I said to him, and I wish I had never been so civil in all
my life! And what must he do but stand there, holding my hand — and a deuced
lot it hurt, too, with him squeezing it! — and talking of how no one could
spare a thought for poor John Greavesey! And feeling very sorry for himself
too, I can tell you, and telling me how charming I was. I tell you, Renna, I
have never been so eager to kill anyone in my life, only then I felt sorry for
him, he was such a detestable little man. And babbling of tea and refreshments
to his soul — have you ever heard anything so abundantly stupid in your life?
No — I beg your pardon. I was the one who brought up the tea. But it was only
because I thought that perhaps
that
way he
would let my hand go — to come in for some tea. And perhaps then I could have
asked you and Drummey to have him locked up safely until he could be sent to
Bedlam!”

“When was this?” Rowena asked suspiciously.

“Not long after we returned from our walk. I suppose he must
have just left you, and he was —”

“A trifle perturbed?” Rowena suggested mildly. “This all
seems to be my fault, after all. Well, then, let’s have the rest of it. What
finished this little
tête-à-tête
in the
garden?”

“Now you sound like Jack.” Miss Ambercot said in tones of
loathing. “It was
not
a
tête-à-tête
, and that stupid idiotish man —”

“I apologize. But what did Jack say?” Rowena pressed.

“He came upon us just as, I think, I was prevailing upon Mr.
Greavesey to let go of my hand and come indoors. He immediately accused me of
flirting with that odious undertaker of a man, and stood there glaring at me as
if I were the Fallen Woman of Babylon! And adverting to — well, an earlier time
when we...”

“I know the whole of it, Jane. But he thought that you had
set up the flirtation yourself? Lord, then this really
is
my fault. You see, just before he met with
you, Greavesey had been making his proposals to
me
.
And there simply is no way to tell such a man as he is
No
without insulting him. And if you do not
insult him, he thinks you are being coy and maidenly — yes, he even used those
words. Can you credit it?”

“And from romancing you he came upon me and —”

“It would seem he was in search of solace. Well, at least I
can explain that to Jack and —”

Jane sat bolt upright again. “No you will not! Don’t you
dare. Rowena, I don’t want anything to do with that man, and I forbid you to
waste your breath in trying to explain anything to him.”

“I was only proposing that I waste my breath because he is
quite spoiling everyone’s dinner — sulking and pouting in the most alarming
way. It would be a kindness to Lady Bradwell, you know.”

“I tried,” Jane said with the simplicity of the wronged. “I
tried to explain to him, and do you know what he did?”

“Blamed you for blaming him when he had his flirtation with
the other female years ago, and compared the two instances,” Rowena stated
matter-of-factly.

“How did you know?”

“My dear, can you conceive of anything more obvious? It is
the perfect connection for an aggrieved gentleman to make. Not only that, but I’ll
wager that by now, aside from the monstrous fine sense of ill use which he is
nourishing in his breast, Lord Bradwell has very little thought for anything
but how he can apologize to you for being unjust.”

“Then he may nurse that for all he is worth,” Jane announced
solidly.

Rowena was silent.

“I want nothing to do with him.”

Still Rowena kept her tongue.

“Renna, what would you do?”

“That depends, of course, on whether or not you truly never
wish to see him again,” she said consideringly. “I imagine that if I truly
loved him, despite the fact that he had been abominably stupid, I would tell
him what happened, enlist any others — such as myself — who could corroborate
my story, and remind him when I was done that I cared for him. And then — but
this is the hardest part — wait and see if he is truly a stupid, loathsome,
horrid man, or merely human. If he’s human, I believe he would eventually see
reason.”

“But why should
I
apologize to
him
? I’m telling the truth,
aren’t I?” Jane’s voice shook with exhaustion and irritation.

“Of course you are, so you can afford to be a little
generous. When he realizes that he has done you an injustice, he will likely be
extremely penitent. But do you think it’s worth it to lose him over a matter of
pride, Jane?”

This sobering thought evidently carried some weight. “No, I
suppose not.”

“Do you wish me to talk with him? Explain what was what with
Greavesey this afternoon?”

No words, but a mute nod of the head signified Miss Ambercot’s
wishes.

“Very well, then, I suggest that you go to bed now. All this
untamed emotion is very tiring, and I wish you will remember that you are only
lately up from the sickroom.”

“Very well, Renna.”

And Miss Cherwood, conscious of a certain exhaustion
herself, retired to her own rooms to think of the coming confrontation with
Jack Bradwell.

o0o

She had planned to corner him in the office the next day, or
very possibly in the stables, and had spent a good part of her dressing-and-washing
thoughts on planning speeches to make to him. Instead, he took her unawares by
descending earlier than usual to breakfast. He was there, tearing savagely at a
beefsteak and drinking ale and coffee (thankfully from different vessels). He
barely acknowledged her greeting. Lyn Bradwell, also in the midst of his
breakfast, smiled warmly at her, cocked his head in his brother’s direction as
if to say “No luck here,” and offered her the teapot. She was trying to frame a
way to introduce the topic of Miss Ambercot into the conversation, but needn’t
have bothered: Lord Bradwell introduced the subject himself.

“How much longer can we expect to have Miss Ambercot in the
house?” he asked in a deadened voice.

“Why, I think that is as much your mamma’s decision as
anyone’s, sir. She only stayed to keep my cousin company and —” But it would
not be good tactics, at least at this point, to remind the gentleman that he
had specifically asked that Jane extend her stay. Lord Bradwell returned his
attention to his steak, and Lyn’s look conveyed his sympathy at her rout.
Rowena tried another tactic.

“I wish one of you gentlemen might have a word with Dr.
Cribbatt about his man Greavesey,” she began calmly. Lord Bradwell’s head came
up and he glared at her. Rowena continued unheedingly. “That man — I don’t know
what to say of him! Yesterday afternoon he suddenly burst into a string of
romantic nonsense and asked me to marry him!”

Both the Bradwell men looked ready to swallow their spoons
in surprise.

“He did what?” choked Jack, and: “That funereal beanpole!”
Lyn exploded.

“The same. I tell you, he was not easily dissuaded, despite
the fact that I had given him no encouragement, and he left me in such a state
that I truly wondered what he would do when he was gone! If looks could kill, I
should be laid out in the chapel at this moment.”

“Jane told you to say this,” Lord Bradwell broke in angrily.
“By God, why should I believe —”

“What has Jane to say to this? Why, did he disturb her peace
too? Poor child, and she only now recovering her health. If I had had to talk
to the man for another five minutes together, I think I would have hit him.”

“Excuse me.” Lord Bradwell arose from table and stalked out.
Rowena had a moment’s doubt as to the success of her strategy, but put her
trust in the man’s innate generosity, his love for Jane, and his deep lack of
real imagination. Sooner or later, she was sure, the image of Greavesey
pressing his company on Jane would overshadow, by its mere plausibility, the
ridiculous fantasy of Jane enticing the spindly, lachrymose physician. After
all, Rowena thought as she poured another cup of tea, what man would willingly
believe that he and Greavesey were in the same class?

“May I have the scones, please?” she asked the remaining
Bradwell politely. “You know, all this emotion makes one dreadfully hungry.”

“Yes, it does rather.” he agreed.

She offered him the plate.

o0o

What exactly passed between Jane Ambercot and John, Lord
Bradwell is unknown, for neither one would tell any part of the story to anyone
else. Margaret and Rowena both heard raised voices coming from Jane’s sitting
room, but neither interfered. And early in the afternoon, Lady Bradwell swept
triumphantly into the office, cast her blue spectacles from her in an excess of
glee, and announced the betrothal of her elder son and Miss Ambercot.

“Well, that’s a mercy,” said Rowena.

“Isn’t it?” Lady Bradwell sighed and settled herself
comfortably on the edge of a chair. “After all the years of work I put into the
two of them, and then you are here not six months and they are engaged again!
Renna, I believe I was right about you after all.”

“That I’m a matchmaker, Lady B? Never say it, I beg you. I
hate to see my friends miserable, it’s true, and will go to some lengths to
prevent it, but as for seeking out matches —”

“You may be as pragmatic as you like,” Lady Bradwell shook
her head and continued loftily. “I am delighted, and — O, Lyn, Lyn!” She waved a
kerchief madly at the window, and Lyndon Bradwell’s retreating figure stopped,
turned around, and came quickly up the garden path to the door.

“Hullo, Mother. Miss Cherwood. What’s to do, ma’am? And
ought you to be so much in a flutter?”

“I shall be anything I like, boy, and you recall that I knew
you in your diapers!”

“And before, no doubt. Mamma, what is the cause of this
jubilation?”

“Rowena has done it! Jack finally stopped being a pudding
head and has asked for Jane, and they’re betrothed again.”

“I had very little to do with it,” Rowena insisted. “They’d
have quit the quarrel very shortly, I’m sure. I only hate seeing Friday-faces
about the house.”

“A laudable sentiment, I’m sure. And I’m delighted too. But
ought you to be prancing about in the sunlight, ma’am?”

“You are determined to be disagreeable and send me back into
the darkness when I haven’t the least wish to do so. Very well, I shall go, but
I will be down for dinner, and Jack will make a formal announcement of the
betrothal. And about time, too.” Lady Bradwell finished defiantly. “Remains
only you, Lyn.”

“It does look that way,” he agreed, and held the door for
her.

“Well,” Bradwell began as he watched his mother climb the
stairs. “Happy endings seem to be the vogue. If Mamma appears at dinner to tell
us that she and Dr. Cribbatt have decided to make a match of it, I shall not
turn an eyelash.”

“Disgustingly sentimental, an’t it?” Rowena returned to her
desk.

“Disgraceful. I begin to feel very old and sensible, and
shall no doubt spend the entire evening wandering through the halls murmuring ‘Bless
you my children’ to all and any I meet.”

“Well, the choice of words is yours. You probably could go
about muttering in Spanish, or Russian, or gibberish for all of that, and I am
sure your blessing would be gratefully received.”

“In that case, I shall by all means try gibberish.” He
closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. Rowena, who had been
working at the desk when Lady Bradwell had entered to make her announcement,
regarded him with some surprise. Of course, he had been on his way somewhere
when Lady Bradwell had hailed him, and he intended to go out again through the
garden door. “Don’t you find this bridal air a trifle fatiguing?” he asked,
settling on the edge of the chair his mother had briefly occupied, and fiddling
with a bit of pillow fringe.

“If you mean, shall I play the maiden aunt to match your
depressing paternalism, the answer is no. I refuse to do.”

“Refuse?”

“I shall certainly be an aunt soon enough, if the look in
Lully’s eye — and Meggy’s too! — means anything. So I refuse to rush the
season. When the time comes, I hope I will make an admirable aunt, dispensing
favors with sweets and affection in about equal proportion. Until that time, I
am not going to let myself feel maternal toward a group of people nearly my own
age — or in your brother’s case, older. In fact, the thought that you feel like
Lord Bradwell’s father — or uncle or whatever — is far and away the most
Sophoclesian thing I have ever heard.” Conscious of the fact that she was, to
her own ears at least, running on absurdly, Rowena stopped abruptly.

Lyn seemed to consider this. “It would be a dreadful waste,
you know.”

Rowena made of that what she could.

“Meg and Ulysses? I had hoped that you wouldn’t feel that way;
you know you would not have suited each other. Not that that makes a difference
when one has a tendre —”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Rowena.”

With his use of her name the atmosphere in the room changed
from the light-headed froth of Rowena’s teasing to something unsettled and
decidedly disturbing. She found that her heart was beating rather erratically.

“You of all people shouldn’t dwindle to maiden aunt. Not
that you’d dwindle, of course. And you’d certainly make an admirable aunt,
almost as admirable as you’d make a mother. And that, almost as admirable as
the wife you’d make.”