Authors: Persons of Rank
“She must never know what Augustus Smeathley did,” Beatrice insisted. “She’s taken a dislike to him and will never invite him or his parents here again. That must be enough. And she won’t,” she blushed slightly as she looked at Justin, “have any reason to try any more match-making of her own after you’ve spoken to her.”
“Definitely not.” His smile was a caress in itself.
But they still could not agree on the best approach. Crispin was all for being completely honest with her ladyship about who wished to marry whom.
Justin thought they might approach the matter with some delicacy and delay the final announcement of their intentions for a day or two.
The two ladies were trying to work out how to spare their elderly relative any sudden worry or upset.
Before a decision had been reached, Borrill brought a summons from her ladyship. “Her Ladyship requests Mr Serle and Mr Herforth to present themselves at her private sitting room immediately.”
There was a moment’s silence, then, “How did she look, Borrill?” Beatrice asked.
“Somewhat better, I believe, miss.”
“I’m coming with you, Crispin!” Eleanor declared.
“No. Let’s see what she wants first.”
“But I’m best at getting round her! In fact, I’m the only one who can make her do anything.”
He eyed her sternly. “Not this time, my love. This time we shall do things my way.”
Beatrice intervened. “He’s right, Eleanor! You know how she hates it if anyone disobeys her or upsets her arrangements. She must have a reason for wanting to see them. We’ll have to leave her to do things her own way, or we’ll only make matters worse.”
Eleanor scowled at them both, but couldn’t maintain her bad humour for long. “Oh, very well! But do hurry back as soon as you can, Crispin, for I’m dying to know what she wants!”
The two ladies fidgeted around for the next twenty minutes or so, speculating as to what could be happening in the East Wing, then at last the butler came to summon them to join the others.
“Is my grandmother all right, Borrill?” demanded Eleanor, refusing to stand on ceremony with him. “Does she look angry or upset?”
“Her ladyship seems to be in an excellent humour, miss.”
Beatrice and Eleanor exchanged bewildered glances. Did that mean she had agreed to their betrothals, or had the matter not yet been broached?
They entered the Dowager’s rooms to find Justin standing by the window and Crispin sitting on a couch beside her ladyship. Justin shook his head at them, which they took as a warning to say nothing.
“How are you, Grandmamma?” asked Eleanor, bending to kiss the wrinkled cheek. “You look much better today.”
“I’ll be better still when the other two Smeathleys have left. That young upstart of theirs wrote me a most impudent letter, not to mention departing without taking his leave of me! Well, he’ll not be invited here again! None of them will! In fact, I shall cut the connection. They’re only related by marriage, anyway. There must be bad blood in their family somewhere. What’s the world coming to when a clergyman flirts like that? I’ve a good mind to write to the Archbishop to tell him not to do anything for that young fellow!”
“What exactly did Mr Smeathley say in his letter?” asked Beatrice when her aunt stopped to draw breath.
“He had the impudence to tell me that he did not wish to offer for either of the two young ladies - as if I’d have let him marry you, once I’d got his measure! - because he didn’t feel they would make suitable wives for a clergyman. The impertinence of it!”
When she started rapping the cane on the ground to emphasize her point, Beatrice realized her aunt must be much better, and that, far from damaging her health, Smeathley’s letter had quite invigorated her.
“And he said he had taken his leave this way in order to spare the young ladies any embarrassment,” added her ladyship. “As if we could have anything to be embarrassed about!”
“Spare us embarrassment!” exclaimed Eleanor, highly indignant. “Why, that - “
“I must say I didn’t care for him myself,” Beatrice interrupted, pinching Eleanor’s arm, afraid of what her niece might blurt out. “In fact, I found him a great bore.”
“Hmm! And what about you, miss?” demanded the Dowager, turning to Eleanor. “It seemed to me at one stage that you were rather taken with him!”
“Oh, that was just a game.”
“Game, eh?” She nodded in sudden understanding. “And I suppose you told him so - which is why he took a huff?”
“Well, when he proposed to me, I had to refuse him.” Eleanor stared down at her feet, “And - well, I suppose I might have spoken a bit too frankly about my feelings.”
The Dowager nodded in satisfaction that her guess had been correct and cast a regretful look at Serle. She would have been pleased to marry him to her grand-daughter. At least she hadn’t erred there. He was a gentleman of birth and breeding, unlike the other fellow. “That’ll be what upset him, then! Canting hypocrite! And what do you mean by flirting with anyone, miss? You are a Graceover, not a kitchen maid!”
“I was just practising, Grandmamma,” Eleanor said, all wide-eyed innocence. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“Practising flirting!” spluttered the Dowager. “Persons of rank and breeding do not even consider indulging in such tasteless behaviour! If I ever catch you doing something so ill-bred again, miss, I’ll teach you how to flirt, I will indeed!”
Eleanor cast her eyes down, but this didn’t prevent her from looking sideways at Crispin. She got no help from that quarter, for he was displeased with her as well about the flirting.
“Anyway, that’s all over and done with!” Lady Marguerite said, changing tone and addressing the two young women more temperately. “What I’ve decided upon for your futures isn’t what I’d first planned, but it’ll do, yes, it’ll do tolerably well, given the circumstances, and I’ll thank you two chits to do as you’re told about this.” She fell silent and stared round the room, studying them all through narrowed eyes.
“What have you arranged, Grandmamma?” Eleanor asked as the silence continued.
“I have decided, miss, that you had better marry your Cousin Crispin. If you must flirt in future, you will kindly do so with your own husband. Though I personally had rather you behaved in a manner more in keeping with your station in life.”
Eleanor said nothing, only putting her head on one side, as if she were thinking the proposal over.
The Dowager, never famous for her patience, waited only a minute, then snapped, “Well, what do you have to say to that, hey?”
Crispin cocked an inquiring eyebrow at his beloved, grinning openly.
“Mmm,” said Eleanor thoughtfully, “I suppose it might just answer.”
“Might just answer!” The Dowager glared at her. “It’s a perfect solution, given that Serle’s affections have settled elsewhere! Your marrying Crispin will keep Graceover blood at Satherby, even if the name has to change. You’re to marry him at once and no more arguments, miss. Might just answer, indeed!”
Eleanor pouted. “Well, I don’t think that’s fair at all, Grandmamma!”
“Not fair! What’s not fair about it? You just said yourself it might answer. Make up your mind, young lady! Make up your mind! I won’t force you into anything you dislike, but he seems fairly presentable to me and you don’t seem to object to his company. He’s willing, that’s for sure.” She stared at Crispin, and cackled with laughter as he flushed under her open scrutiny.
“It’s not the idea of marrying Crispin which is unfair, Grandmamma,” Eleanor said, all wide-eyed still. “In fact, I quite like it. But I don’t appreciate the way you’re both going about it. How do you think it feels when one’s grandmother does the proposing? Can’t he speak for himself?” She pulled a cheeky face at Crispin. “I don’t think it’s fair at all if I’m not to have a proper proposal, on bended knee and - and everything!”
Crispin had difficulty keeping his face straight and Justin chuckled aloud.
Even the Dowager’s lips twitched. “And is that your only objection, miss?”
Eleanor looked at Crispin, pretending to consider him as her grandmother had. “Well, he’s not bad looking, really, and I should rather like to stay at Satherby. But I do insist on a proper proposal. I’d feel cheated, otherwise, I really would.”
The Dowager let out a rusty spurt of laughter, which she tried unsuccessfully to turn into a cough. “Then you’d better take her away and propose properly, young Herforth! And see that you make a good job of it, too. Bended knee and all.”
“Yes, Aunt Marguerite.” He held out his hand to Eleanor and with a quick sideways glance at him, she placed hers in it and allowed him to lead her from the room.
The Dowager watched them leave, then turned to Beatrice. “I gather,” she said dryly, “that you and Serle have already come to an understanding of sorts.”
Beatrice blushed. “I’m afraid so. I - I hope you don’t mind too much, Aunt Marguerite. I didn’t mean to spoil your plans and become attached to him. It just - happened.”
“I should have known you’d do something like this when I sent you to London without me. If Johanna couldn’t keep her own daughters in order, why should she manage it with you? Still, you’ve done quite well for yourself, I must say. It will be a very good match.”
Justin made her a flourishing bow in acceptance of her compliment.
The Dowager’s eyes were gleaming with suppressed amusement. “You’ve done better than your father did, that’s for sure, Beatrice. Serle is not only a man of breeding, but has enough money, I gather, to make comfortable settlements upon you and your children. I wouldn’t agree to the marriage, else! If things are not done properly, the next generation suffers for it. As you did.”
Beatrice’s face was now bright scarlet. “Aunt Marguerite!” she protested, embarrassed by this businesslike attitude.
“It’s true, miss, as you well know. No use denying the facts.”
Justin came across to take Beatrice’s hand, smiling at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. “I think you can rely upon me to keep matters on a proper footing, your ladyship. Beatrice is, alas, incurably romantic, but at least she has had the good taste to settle her affections on me and not on some lowborn fellow.”
Beatrice barely smothered a laugh as her joy suddenly began to overflow.
“True, true! I brought her up to know what she owes to the family.” The old lady brandished her cane at them. “I suppose she’ll complain as well if I say any more. You’d better take her away and make her a proper proposal, Serle. You and I will sort out the business arrangements later.”
“An excellent idea, your ladyship.”
Neither of them noticed the Dowager’s lips twitching or heard the hoarse little chuckle that escaped her control as she watched them leave. “Who do they all think they’re fooling?” she asked the air around her as she rang for her maid. “I’m not in my dotage yet, thank you!” Still, although the outcome was not what she had planned, she was well pleased with it.
When Lippings came in, she found Lady Marguerite still chuckling, and this developed into such a hearty bout of laughter that her ladyship fell into a choking fit and had to have her back pounded as if she were a common sort of person and not a member of the nobility.
* * * *
Justin shepherded Beatrice from the room with the greatest celerity and pulled her into the library. The minute the door was closed behind them, he gathered her in his arms.
She held him off for a moment, in mock anger. “How on earth did you persuade her to agree?” she demanded. “Yes, and how dare you speak about me like that! Good taste to settle my affections on you, indeed!”
But before she could take him to task, he had drawn her to him and silenced her with an urgent kiss which left her feeling so breathless that she could only cling to him for a moment and wonder that a man’s touch could set her whole body tingling like this. When she had taken a few careful breaths, she demanded weakly, “Well, aren’t you going to propose to me properly, Mr Serle?”
“Justin.”
She smiled. “Justin, then.”
“Dearest Justin, even?”
She blushed, but repeated the words softly, her eyes steady on his, “Dearest Justin.”
“I rather thought I had already proposed, my darling. But if you insist on another...” he paused, smiling down at her in a way that made her heart lurch. “Will you,” he punctuated each phrase with a gentle kiss on alternate cheeks, “marry me - and next week please - if not sooner?”
“Oh, I think I’d better!” she gasped, clinging to him in a very unladylike manner, “and yes, yes, as soon as possible, if you please, for I’m developing a strong desire to embrace you whenever I’m alone with you, and that sort of behavior will never do between persons who are not married!”
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and looked down at her very seriously, still clasping her lightly around the waist. “Dearest Beatrice, are you sure?”
She didn’t try to avoid his glance, but looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m very sure, Justin.” Then her smile returned, for she had never felt so gloriously happy in all her life. “Mind, I’ll only marry you if you promise not to throw me into any more pools.”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter, then pulled her into his arms again to kiss her passionately. “I promise nothing,” he said in a husky voice, “except to love you for ever. And I demand the same promise from you.”
* * * *
In fact, considering they were all persons of the highest rank and breeding, there was an extremely vulgar display of feelings and affection that day at Satherby Abbey, and even the Dowager startled her maid several times by giving sudden cackles of laughter for no apparent reasons.
Copyright © 1992 by Anna Jacobs
Originally published by Random House Australia
Electronically published in 2010 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228