Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
"You took too much." This was from Vernon, from his superior knowledge.
"I'll learn by practice," avowed Briony.
"Oh no you won't, sis.
Snuff taking is a gentleman's pastime."
"How so?"
She looked to Harriet for guidance. Harriet shrugged.
"One of these incomprehensible customs that prevail in Polite Society and which must be obeyed.
Some ladies disregard the rules, but they are generally elderly duchesses
and not bound by the edicts that apply to debs like us."
A clock on the
mantlepiece
of the marble Adam fireplace chimed the hour and alerted Vernon. "Drat! My tutor will be waiting and I can't delay. I'm having trouble with my Greek—the abominable Aeschylus, you know.
If you will excuse me, ladies."
He turned to leave the small yellow saloon, which was never used by any save the younger members of the household. At the door he turned back. "Briony, do you think you could spare me an hour or so this evening to reinforce what Mr. Keith takes such pains to teach me? You explain things so much better."
"I shall, if you feel it will do any good, but I collect that the language and I shall continue to suffer," Briony teased.
He ignored his sister's banter. "And
cousin
Harriet, may I ask you also to instruct me further in the fine art of snuff taking?"
"Certainly," replied his bemused cousin, still reeling from the discovery that the slip of a girl next to her was a scholar.
The door shut with a click and Briony returned to the subject at hand.
"Harriet, you made those movements so beautifully. Surely I am not mistaken in thinking that yours is a practiced hand?"
Harriet smiled conspiratorially. "I would never dream of doing it in public. It's just not done. But if I take snuff in private, who is to know? Who cares even? Sometimes I have seen a lady take snuff from a gentleman's wrist, but that is as far as she dare go. Try it." She placed a pinch of snuff on the back of her wrist and proffered it to Briony. Briony sniffed delicately. This time, there
Was
no sneeze.
'The
novice always take
too much," Harriet continued. "The trick is to extract only the smallest pinch that you can manage. If one sneezes or grimaces when one inhales, the effect is ruined."
"May I try it?" Briony asked.
"By all means."
Harriet passed the snuffbox to her cousin
thinking that this mild-mannered girl had far more spunk than she had at first given her credit for.
Briony went through the movements several times until she had perfected them. "I like it, and I don't see any harm in it, do you?"
Harriet concurred.
"None whatsoever."
"Then,
cousin
Harriet, in the privacy of the boudoir, perhaps we may partake of snuff together?"
"I should be delighted," returned an enthusiastic Harriet.
Briony proved to be an agreeable companion and Harriet was delighted with her newfound friend, for her cousin, although in no way forward in her own behavior, was not at all censorious of some of the more questionable practices that Harriet indulged in. If Harriet should partake, on the rare occasion, of a glass of wine, Briony declined without giving the least offense. Cards she refused to play on the grounds that she had no wish to deprive her friends and acquaintances of even a farthing, but when Harriet asked her to participate "just for fun," Briony consented. It soon became evident to the
Broomhill
household that as long as their young relative "could see no harm in it," she became as fun-loving as any other girl.
On the question of telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, however, Briony was immovable. In the confines of the Grenfell family, there was nothing objectionable in this trait, since Briony never ventured her views on any subject uninvited. Only those who truly desired a disinterested opinion ever requested Briony to express her sentiments. Few did.
In Society, however, such candor could only be regarded as an unmitigated impertinence, and Harriet, in her role as mentor, used all the charm at her command on more than one occasion to extricate Briony from an awkward situation.
Lady Grenfell kept a watchful eye on her two young charges and observed with pleasure their growing intimacy. She was gratified to see that under her daughter's tutelage,
Briony's
solemn manner had become much more relaxed. Nor did she fail to note that association with Briony was having a beneficial effect on the more wayward Harriet. She felt justifiably proud that in the space of only a few weeks her "cork-brained" scheme was beginning to bear fruit. And since, in her father's eyes, Harriet had "at last" begun to comport herself in the style of a true lady, he waived his objection to her use of the curricle in which she had almost broken her neck.
The
Marquess
of Ravensworth had his rooms on the second floor of Albany House on Piccadilly in Mayfair. Two gentlemen in restrained but elegant costume of black coats and yellow pantaloons were lounging in his study in two comfortable though old-fashioned armchairs on either side of a blazing fire. Each was drawing deeply on his Havana cigar. After a few minutes of companionable silence, the dark-haired gentleman uncoiled his long, muscular torso from the depths of his chair and moved to open the window.
"Bit foggy," he mumbled by way of explanation.
"Quite so," absently observed his fair-haired companion.
Ravensworth returned to his place. It was Viscount Avery who took up their conversation where he had left off.
"It's not as though I wished to break her spirit, but surely a future husband has some voice in the conduct of his betrothed? I merely wished to curb Harriet's wilder excesses."
"Oh, I'm in complete agreement,"
concurred
Ravensworth. "For a delicately nurtured female, Harriet Grenfell's conduct leaves much to be desired." The
Marquess
drew steadily on his cigar. "In a female of a different class," he continued pensively, "such behavior need not damn
her,
one might even find it taking in a provocative sort of way. But in a wife, it would be inexcusable. How did you persuade her to break the engagement?"
"I didn't," the Viscount responded morosely. "It was
her own
idea. I simply told her that she would have to choose between Originality and me. She chose the former."
"You surely don't regret it?" asked Ravensworth, surprised to hear a note of disappointment in Avery's voice.
"Well, of course I do!
D'you
think
I want to shackle myself to any of these spiritless misses whom my mama keeps throwing at my head? Marriage is a life-long sentence, my friend."
"But a gentleman, if he finds his wife not to his taste, can always acquire other Interests," Ravensworth emphasized.
"No, no," said Avery with an apologetic shrug. "The thing is
,
I've completely lost interest in every other woman, even the beauties. So you can see what a devil of a coil I am in."
"My God!" exclaimed Ravensworth. "This is serious! I had no idea, dear boy, that you were completely
bouleverse
."
"Oh completely," responded Avery with a halfhearted attempt to shake off his despondent humor.
A lackey entered and quite unnecessarily banked up the fire with a
shuttleful
of coal. When he had withdrawn, Ravensworth continued.
"But this puts a different complexion on the problem. You did not tell me that you love the lady."
Avery shrugged. "What of it? Harriet won't make the least push to conform to my wishes and I have no intentions of giving in."
"Marry her, then, and
make
her conform to your wishes!"
"Are you mad, Ravensworth?" Avery demanded incredulously.
"No, my friend," said Ravensworth in a superior tone.
"Merely using the gray matter between my ears.
Think for a moment! Why is Harriet Grenfell's behavior so outlandish? Why doesn't she conform to Society's standards?"
"It's inbred. Her father, I hear, was exactly the same."
"You're getting closer. It is because Miss Harriet Grenfell is adept at managing her two doting, indulgent parents. But when Harriet marries, whose authority does she come under then?"
"Her husband's, of course."
"And if
you
were that husband?"
"Ravensworth, what are you getting at?" A hint of impatience edged Avery's voice.
"Only this.
A husband, if he has the will, has it in his power to manage his wife. He can threaten her with all sorts of dire consequences—deprive her of her dress allowance, her liberty even. You can send Harriet to oblivion, if you wish, to one of your northern estates, if she don't conform."
"Harriet wouldn't like it."
"Of course she wouldn't like it, you blockhead. That is the whole point of the exercise. A woman is just like a filly. She must be broken to the bridle, not given her head."
Ravensworth's words revolved slowly in Lord Avery's mind. "Is that how you plan to manage your wife when you get shackled?" he asked doubtfully.
"Indubitably!
If I have the misfortune to marry a wench who thwarts me.
But that day is far off."
"What? Haven't you encountered anyone at all who has taken your fancy?"
"A score or more but no one who has tempted me to offer more than my illustrious—bed."
Ravensworth's smile verged on the self-congratulatory.
Avery laughed wryly. "One of these days, Ravensworth, you are going to meet your nemesis, and I hope that I am there to see it."
Ravensworth's shapely hand, about to bring the stub of his cigar to his lips, abruptly arrested itself in midair.
"What did you say?" He appeared to be startled.
Avery repeated his observation.
His lordship slowly exhaled a ring of smoke which trailed a lazy path to the high-coved ceiling. He watched it for a moment or two before replying.
"I think I have met her." His voice was expressionless.
"Have you indeed?" Avery's eyes were alight with interest.
"And?"
"Nothing!
Just a slip of a girl whom I met at the
Grenfells
' ball.
At least, not at the ball, but in the library."
"What were you doing in the library?"
"I was with Adele."
"That explains it. Go on!"
"Mm?"
Avery's words had broken into what appeared to be a pleasant reverie. "She told me that my kiss made her tingle."
"You must be funning! You kissed another woman when you were with Adele?"
"Of course not!
She got rid of Adele."
"What? Is she a brazen hussy, then?"
"Rather ingenuous, I thought."
"Who is she?" demanded Avery.
"I thought you might know of her. Have the
Grenfells
engaged a new governess or a companion of late?"
"Not to my knowledge. Wait! Harriet has a cousin staying with her.
A Quaker girl from Philadelphia in
Shropshire
."
"Never heard of it."
After a moment's reflection Ravensworth asked, "What's a Quaker?"
Avery considered. "Damned if I know. From what Harriet said, I collect they are dreadfully virtuous."
"
Mmm
. . .
pity
!"
"Why? Are you interested?"
"Only mildly!
Is she the proverbial poor relation?"
"I can't say.
Probably.
But her background is impeccable. Would you care for a peek at her family tree? I can arrange it if you wish." Avery's face was wreathed in smiles.
Ravensworth was rattled. "No need.
I'm
not thinking of getting married."
"No? Then better forget her."
Ravensworth cocked a sardonic eyebrow and Avery chortled.
"I mean it, Ravensworth," he warned. 'This girl is not one that will accept a slip on the shoulder. Don't even think of it. I told you, she is virtuous."
"You forget
,
she let me kiss her. Besides, virtue won't give her all that I can offer."
"She
don't
want anything you have to offer if it comes without the blessing of Mother Church."
"Avery, you are an incurable romantic," said Ravensworth in a deprecating tone.