The Heiress Companion (18 page)

“Indeed, ma’am,” Mr. Greavesey began rustily. “Indeed, ma’am,
I have had — that is, I cherished certain — but Miss Cherwood seemed averse — that
is, she seemed to dislike — although I thought — well, perhaps, ma’am —”

“Rowena,” Mrs. Cherwood interrupted definitely, “does not
know what she wants. Why, my dear sir, it takes a man of decision to win a
high-spirited girl such as my niece. And after all, there is her money as well
as herself.”

Greavesey looked up. “Her money, ma’am?”

“Why surely you know, Mr. Greavesey? Rowena has quite a nice
little competence,” Mrs. Cherwood understated happily. After all, she wanted to
attract the man to Rowena, not scare him away completely, and Dorothea Cherwood
doubted that this man would have the gumption to go after a woman with four
thousand a year of her own. “Even if she is not as young or handsome as my
Margaret, she does have her
dot
, and you
must have seen how handily she manages here for Dear Lady Bradwell.” Mrs.
Cherwood’s tone made Lady Bradwell one of her very closest friends.

“O, yes indeed Mrs. Cherwood.” Greavesey gulped. “But do you
think Miss Rowena would — I am, after all, a poor man, and when I last spoke to
her —”

“My dear sir,” she said airily. “No well-brought-up girl
will tell her true feelings on the first application! It goes against
everything that young girls are taught.” She thought that that had got him.

“Why, ma’am, that was what I thought at the time. But Miss
Cherwood seemed so particularly definite...” He trailed off doubtfully.

“Nonsense, sir. Rowena is a girl of spirit, that’s all. Of
course,” Mrs. Cherwood continued, lest he disliked too much spirit in a woman, “it
is only for some good man to take her in hand to have her meek as a lamb in jig
time.”

A golden vision of Rowena Cherwood — and her money — swam
before John Greavesey’s eyes. “If I spoke again, perhaps?”

“Certainly, Mr. Greavesey,” Mrs. Cherwood encouraged. Now,
all she had to do was speak with Rowena, make the girl understand that this was
obviously to be her last chance at an establishment of her own, however meager.
Rowena had appeared more compliant here at Broak than she had at the Cherwoods’
home in London, and Mrs. Cherwood began to see the chance of her scheme’s
realization.

“I’ll go this minute!” Without giving Mrs. Cherwood a chance
to stop him or make him wait until she could talk with Rowena, Mr. Greavesey
made his bow to her and left.

“Well?” Eliza Ambercot reentered the room when she saw
Greavesey leave, and looked inquiringly at Margaret’s mother.

“Well!” Mrs. Cherwood said noncommittally. But her smile
spoke volumes. “Do you think it would be nice to have a double wedding? Or
ought Rowena and that Greavesey to marry first?”

“He asked for her?” Eliza choked.

“Well, not exactly. My niece is her own mistress, you know.”
Mrs. Cherwood complacently began to fold her silks into her workbasket. “But I
imagine he will be doing so in a very short while. It was all very easily
managed, my dear.”

“But do you think that Miss Cherwood will accept him if he
offers for her?” Eliza asked dubiously. “He’s so fusty and old, and —”

“But particularly
worthy
,
child. I warned my niece what would happen if she didn’t take Slyppe when he
offered. If this Greavesey wants her, I am more than willing to support his
suit. And if Rowena has a particle of sense — and whatever else I may say, I
believe she is a sensible thing — she will take him. Even if, as you say, he is
fusty and old.” From her tone Eliza could pardonably have inferred that Mrs.
Cherwood was enjoying herself immensely. She was. “Now, my dear, to that young
man of yours.” Mrs. Cherwood took up the subject of Lyndon Bradwell as if she
had totally settled her niece, and Eliza, liking this topic better than any
other, wriggled happily into a chair to listen to her many thoughts on How to
Catch a Husband.

o0o

“Mr. Greavesey.” Rowena spied the man before he found her.
She had taken time to change into a day dress of sprigged muslin, to wash the
dirt of the garden from her hands, and to repin her hair into a semblance of
order. There was a militant glow in her eye and a combatant spring in her step
that even her work in the garden had done little to mitigate. Only the general
lowness of spirits which had afflicted her since her breakfast with Lyndon
Bradwell kept her from enjoying what she regarded as the fray to come. She kept
her voice to a civil level and her manner polite, at least for the moment.

“Ah, Miss Cherwood!” Greavesey bowed, his long, pale face
flushing with surprise or exertion or excitement — from his demeanor it would
have been hard to judge which. “I was just come in search of you.”

“How convenient,” she said drily. “Have you seen Lady
Bradwell?”

“Why, of course. That is why I was sent for, is it not?” His
tone managed to be defensive and suggestive at the same time. Rowena, looking
away briefly, realized that one of the housemaids was scrubbing in a
determinedly uninterested fashion at one of the brass doorplates nearby.

“Shall we go into the office?” she invited coolly.

Rather meekly, Greavesey followed Miss Cherwood back to the
office, away from the ears of housemaids. He thought that her manner toward him
was improved, that she was a little more conciliatory, as well as somewhat
subdued since their last interview together. Bearing in mind Mrs. Cherwood’s
words of encouragement, he determined to speak his heart and mind again,
spurred on by what he felt to be Miss Rowena’s unlooked-for civility and by the
thought of her money.

When the office door closed behind them, Rowena turned again
to the doctor’s assistant. “How does Lady Bradwell go on today?”

A little startled by what was, given his train of thought, a
change in subject, Greavesey reported that Lady Bradwell, although a little
tired, was in good trim. “In fact, I think that very soon now the doctor will
advise that she may abandon her spectacles in all but the brightest light, and
go about as she was used to do.”

“Well, that’s a mercy at least,” Rowena murmured to herself.
“Please sit, sir.”

With a florid gesture Greavesey indicated that he only
waited for his companion to seat herself. With a sigh, Rowena retreated to the
chair behind the desk, and Greavesey settled in a huge straight-back chair that
dwarfed his narrow frame.

“I had wanted to speak with you, Mr. Greavesey; indeed, I
think it is very good that I should have seen you before Lord Bradwell did, for
I am certain that he would have done more than simply talk to you.” She gave
the man such a meaningful glance that he was inspired with a sudden insight:
Obviously Miss Cherwood was jealous of his attention to Miss Ambercot in the
garden.

“My dear Miss Cherwood,” he began, his voice ringing
fulsomely over each syllable. “I assure you that I have been much
misrepresented in that instance. There was nothing in my manner — nay, in my
intentions —”

“Miss Ambercot seemed to feel that there was, and certainly
Lord Bradwell did. It’s of no matter to me, of course, but I rather thought you
would be happy to avoid another facer if Lord Bradwell encounters you; he
dislikes to have his fiancée importuned by — well, in any case, importuned,”
Rowena continued blandly. “I suspect that it would be a very good thing for you
if in future Dr. Cribbatt could contrive to make calls at Broak himself, rather
than sending you. If you do not care to explain
why
to the doctor, send him to me and I shall make up some sort of Banbury tale
that will satisfy him. My point is, Mr. Greavesey, that you are not welcome at
Broak, and will become increasingly less welcome when Lord Bradwell and Miss
Ambercot are married. Do you understand?”

Certainly, Greavesey believed that he understood. Despite
her disclaimers, Miss Cherwood cared enough to make a push to protect him from
Dr.Cribbatt’s wrath. And perhaps did not want him in Miss Ambercot’s vicinity
for fear that he would be tempted to approach her again.

“Ah, Miss Cherwood, I am overwhelmed by your concern.”
Rowena regarded him with disbelief. “But you needn’t fear that I shall press my
presence upon Miss Ambercot. After all, who would attend her when
you
are near? My dear Miss Cherwood, your aunt, a
very genteel and kindly lady, has assured me that I may hope, and so I shall
not scruple to ask again if you will consider my proposals. I realize that I am
not a wealthy man, nor yet a very young one, but I most ardently esteem and
admire you, and I am sure that we would go on together very well. You would
have your own establishment, and you would no longer be at the mercy of an
employer — however kind the employer might be.”

Rowena stared at him in absolute amazement. Greavesey,
mistakenly encouraged by her silence, continued.

“You are no longer in the — excuse me — the first flower of
youth; it cannot have escaped you that your chances of marriage must slighten
with — again, pray excuse me! — age, and there is much to be said for
contracting a marriage with one who so ardently admires and esteems you....” He
continued on, oblivious to the look of dawning outrage on Rowena’s face.

She was thinking of Lyn’s awkward proposal, so earnest and
unconsidered that they had finished by laughing. The thought made her heart
twist; the pain gave her wrath new fire.

“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Greavesey, stop!” She regarded him as
levelly as she could. Greavesey, stunned by the force of the interruption, sank
back into his great chair, chin waggling emptily. “I have no idea what my
dear
aunt could have told you to make you think
that I was more receptive to your offers now than when you last tendered them,
but I assure you that I have not changed and I shall not change. I do not see
any particular disgrace in growing older; we must all do so, with whatever
grace we can manage. As to growing old unmarried, I don’t think that is a worse
fate than growing old married to a man I cordially detest. I had meant to be as
gentle as possible if you even brought the subject up again, but I see that you
are impervious to the polite No. I brought you in for no other reason than to
inquire after my mistress’s health, and to tell you Lord Bradwell’s expressed
wish that you no longer attend on his mother here. I did
not
bring you here to entertain your proposals of
marriage, certainly not proposals couched in terms of insults! Nor shall I ever
accept your heart, hand, or any other part of your anatomy, under any
circumstances! And if you will not leave now, under your own power, I shall
summon a footman to cast you out bodily.”

Greavesey’s chin waggled on; he made no sign of removing
from his chair.

Miss Cherwood stood and went to the door, calling to the
maid at her polishing to summon a footman; then she returned to the room and
placed herself against the door as if blocking Greavesey’s exit. When a knock sounded,
she stepped forward, saying to the person who entered: “Would you remove this
man, please? He seems incapable of leaving on his own.”

“If that is what you wish, Miss Cherwood,” Lyndon Bradwell
said softly.

o0o

Rowena wheeled about to face him, and Greavesey, watching
from his startled seat, realized that the focus of Miss Cherwood’s wrath had
changed, and took advantage of the moment to slip from the room by the garden
door.

“It’s exactly what I wish, and I hope you do not mean to
imply anything else, Mr. Bradwell,” Rowena managed to say icily.

“You seem to make a habit of heated discussions with —” Lyn
cast a look at Greavesey’s empty chair. “Well, he’s made his escape now, in any
case. But I wonder why the man makes such a determined effort to win you if you
give him no encouragement at all.”

Rowena choked.

“Lyndon Bradwell, of all the horrible, ham-fisted, stupid —”
Words failed her momentarily. “I brought the man in here to find out about your
mamma, since I dislike to air your family’s business in front of the parlor maids!
And to suggest that since your brother is likely to murder him if he catches
the man at Broak, he had as well to send the doctor next time, rather than
himself. And quite unheralded the man broke into his repulsive protestations — if
you please, I am so aged that I had best marry at once, being in imminent
danger of dying an ape-leader. As to encouraging him, I believe it was my
saintly Aunt Doro who egged him on, and were I not a lady — which I begin to
doubt — I would happily throw her from the house as well. Now
you
have the gall to accuse me of leading Mr.
Greavesey into a Fool’s Paradise? Good God! Leaves only for Mrs. Coffee to
accuse me of rifling the silver cabinets!”

Miss Cherwood dropped heavily into the chair recently
vacated by Greavesey. Above all things she would have liked to burst heartily
into tears, but not in front of Lyn Bradwell. Certainly not in front of Lyn
Bradwell. Instead, she fanned her anger again, turning it into a weapon.

“One thing I must say for Mr. Greavesey, however: He didn’t
seem oppressed by the notion of my money. It didn’t seem at all improbable that
I should wish to marry him, even with my
great
wealth.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Even despite the fact that I had made it
very plain to him that I had rather marry a toad. God, I am beginning to detest
men! What a mutton-headed, self-centered —”

“Rowena,” Lyn said quietly.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Renna. Sweetheart —” A warm note was in his voice, almost a
caress. Rowena fought the temptation to look up and see if the caring tone was
reflected in his eyes. No, even if she wanted him to have changed his mind, it could
not be now, with the bad taste of Greavesey’s presence on the hour. “Rowena?”

“I can’t listen now. I cannot. Even if I wanted to...” she
murmured.

“And you don’t?” Now Lyn’s voice cooled.