‘
Thank you, Madame,' Mathilde said listlessly, 'but I have
no need of a new gown. I have the one Mr James bought me
for my birthday which I've hardly worn yet.’
Héloïse bore the astonishing reply bravely, realising there
was more to Mathilde's pallor than merely being confined
indoors. For a young woman to refuse a new gown was
evidence of some deep malaise. 'Well, we shall go to York any
way,' she said calmly. 'I need some new gloves, for my white
ones are quite grey; and I wish to speak to Mr Pobgee; and I have some cards to leave. But,' she added with a smile, 'you
need not fear I shall drag you with me to be bored! I shall
drop you off at the Keatings' house on my way to Davygate,
and collect you on my way back. I am sure you haven't
spoken to poor Patience this age.’
Mathilde brightened a little. 'Thank you, Madame. I
should like that,' she said.
The Keatings lived in a new house in Blake Street, and
Héloïse meant to drop Mathilde at the door; but when she
reached the corner of St Helen's Square, where it made a
junction with Blake Street to the left, Davygate to the right, and Stonegate straight ahead, she found the way blocked. A
brewer's dray coming out of Stonegate had collided with a
vegetable cart on the way to the market, and the entrance to
Blake Street was a tangled mess of empty barrels, apples,
cabbages, splintered wood, altercations, vociferous chairmen,
pigs, children, gawpers and trapped traffic, and it was plain
there was no getting through.
‘
It doesn't matter, Madame,' Mathilde said quickly. 'Let
me jump down. It's only a step from here — I can walk the
rest.'
‘
Very well,' Héloïse said, looking at the seething crowd
doubtfully, 'but do be careful,
chérie,
and hold tight to your
reticule. Go straight there; and if they should not be at home,
ask for a servant to walk with you to Mr Pobgee's, where I
shall be for the next half-hour at least. Don't think of walking
alone.'
‘
No, Madame. I shall be all right,' Mathilde said, and
jumped down with a lighter heart, for there was nothing like
a little noise and bustle for blowing away gloom. She crossed
the street with difficulty, and worked her way through the
crowd, listening appreciatively to the rapidly-escalating
quarrel between the two carters as to whose fault it was, inter
spersed with fierce cries from the vegetable man as he saw his
wares being gathered up quietly from the road by passers-by
and removed to places of concealment.
The Keatings' house was half-way along the street, and she
had just cleared the fringes of the gathering when she saw a
tall figure she knew very well come out of the front door and
turn along the street towards her.
He paused in front of her and raised his hat. 'Miss Nordubois!
How do you do? What a pleasant chance! Are you going to
visit Miss Keating? How comes it that you are alone?'
‘
How do you do, Mr Skelwith,' Mathilde said, and
explained the circumstances. Since he had stopped coming to
Morland Place, they had met tolerably often on neutral
ground, at balls and other peoples' houses, and any awkward
ness there might have been between them had passed long
ago. They had even danced together once or twice, and
chatted pleasantly like any slight acquaintance.
As she spoke, Mathilde eyed him with interest. She hadn't happened to see him for several weeks, and she thought now
how well he was looking. His usually grave face seemed lighter;
there was something like a sparkle in his eyes, and a hint
of a smile lurking on his lips, and his carriage spoke of a man at ease with the world. Really, she thought, he is almost handsome — certainly a very attractive man! She had always liked
him, had been deeply flattered in the beginning by his prefer
ence; and seeing him now, it came to her what an excellent suitor she had lost in him. How foolish she had been not to
encourage him more! How arrogant, to assume that she could
have her choice! How profligate, to throw away what was to
hand, in the hope of better to come!
She would be glad now, she thought more humbly, to
receive a renewal of his attentions. A kind, personable, gentle
man of large fortune: she must have been wandering in her wits to let him go. As for that other folly — she shuddered inwardly to think of it. How could she ever have supposed
that he cared for her in
that way?
It was plain to her now that
he had viewed her only in the light of a younger relation,
almost like a niece, and she had deeply offended him by being
too bold, by allowing her preference to shew; embarrassing
him, perhaps even shocking him.
‘
You have just been to see the Keatings yourself, Mr
Skelwith?' she said now. 'Then I suppose they are at home?'
‘
Oh yes, very much at home,' he said with a grin. 'I am
sure you will be the most welcome sight in the world to Miss
Keating — she will have such a lot of things to tell you! I wish
I might walk back there with you, but I must be on my way. I
have several very urgent things to do.' He suddenly took her
hand and pressed it, something between a handshake and a
friendly embrace, and smiled down at her. 'Dear Miss Nordu-bois, I am so very glad to see you! And Patience will be too!
Pray, go up at once, and let her think I sent you on purpose.’
Mathilde didn't quite understand him, but he was certainly
behaving in a very warm manner towards her, and she
wondered if perhaps all was not lost, and that he had a heart
returning to her after all. Well, if it were so, this time she would know better how to value it! She returned the hand
shake cordially, and before tracing her steps to the Keatings'
front door, turned to watch him as he strode away along
Blake Street, looking, had she not known better, every bit like
a man in love.
*
Héloïse often thought that the offices of Pobgee and Mickle
thwaite in Daveygate were one of those places in the world
where, if you sat still long enough, you would one day meet
everyone you had ever known. Everyone in York — everyone
who mattered, that was — seemed to entrust their legal
business to the old-established firm, and sitting in the
comfortable ante-room for an hour or two, one might save
oneself all the trouble of going calling on one's acquaintance.
Héloïse did not rush her business, partly because she liked
Mr Pobgee senior, who always saw her personally, and chatted
to her more like a friend than her man of business; and
partly because she was installed in a very comfortable chair,
with Nicholas beside her, Castor on her lap, and a glass of
madeira in her hand; and partly to give Mathilde time to
reach her, if the Keatings should be from home.
When at last she did rise up to leave, and was shewn to the
door by Mr Pobgee senior, she entered the ante-room at the
same moment as John Skelwith emerged into it from the
room of Mr Pobgee Junior, and they came face to face with
each other. Neither of them precisely blushed, but a strong
consciousness overspread them both. To Héloïse, nothing
could be more productive of pain equally mixed with pleasure
than to come upon this young man with his haunting look of
James. She liked him very much, and wished with all her
heart that there were something she could do for him, or that
it were possible for them all to be comfortable and friendly
together.
‘
Mr Skelwith,' she said now, holding out her hand cordially.
‘What a pleasant coincidence. You have had business with
the Pobgees too, it seems?’
It was only said for something to say, and she didn't really
expect a specific answer, but he smiled his pleasant, poignant
smile and said, 'Yes, ma'am, indeed! I have had a very particular sort of business — the best sort! I met Miss
Nordubois in the street a while ago, on her way to visit Miss
Keating. No doubt she will know all about it by now.’
Will she, Mr Skelwith?' Héloïse said, rather mystified by
his cheerfulness.
‘Yes, ma'am. Can't you guess? I have been consulting Pobgee
about marriage settlements!' For the fraction of a second,
Héloïse's heart jumped, before he continued, 'Miss Keating
has done me the honour of accepting my hand. We are to be
married in four weeks' time.’
Héloïse said what was proper, thinking that Patience
Keating was a nice, sensible girl, and would make him a good
wife, though Mathilde was worth six of her. What had happened
to his evident preference for her ward? Had he simply realised
that Mathilde was indifferent to him? It had taken him a long
time to choose another. No inconstant heart, his! Had
Mathilde really been indifferent? She hoped so, now, or there
would be an awkward interview going on at this moment in
the Keatings' house.
‘
I wish you very happy, Mr Skelwith,' Héloïse said, and
then, cautiously, 'Is your mother pleased, also?’
He actually grinned. 'Oh yes, Mother likes Patience very
much. She can't wait to have her as a daughter.' This, Héloïse
thought, was certainly an exaggeration. 'There's only one
thing she may not like — but no, I'm speaking like a fool,' he
stopped himself with a look of vexation.
‘
What, then?' Héloïse asked. 'Come now, you have intrigued
me. You must finish what you were saying.’
He looked uncomfortable. 'Well, ma'am, you know that
Mother was against my marrying Miss Nordubois?' he said
awkwardly.
‘
No, I didn't,' Héloïse said. Ah, she thought, so that was it,
was it? Mary Loveday put her foot down and said no, and so
the good son took up his pride and left!
Skelwith looked as though he wished he had never
mentioned it. 'It was nothing really, ma'am — I mean, she
had nothing against Miss Nordubois herself, of course. It was
— I can't explain really. It was old history.' Héloïse nodded
kindly. 'Well, Mother's very pleased about me and Patience,
but I happen to know that she — Patience, that is — means to ask Miss Nordubois to be her bridesmaid, and I'm only afraid
Mother might —’
Héloïse smiled at him. 'I think you will find that you are
worrying for nothing, Mr Skelwith. I am sure your mother
will be quite happy with the arrangement. And now I must be on my way. Come, Nicholas. Once again, my best wishes, Mr
Skelwith. I'm sure you will be very happy.’
Out in the street, she hesitated, and then decided to go
straight to Blake Street. She ought to offer her felicitations to
Miss Keating; and she wanted to be sure all was well with
Mathilde.