“Because otherwise the sunshine will make your complexion... Oh!”
Mimi laughed merrily. “You see? And anyway, it's cloudy more often than not.”
“It does seem a bit silly when you think about it.” The vicar's daughter sounded doubtful.
“To start with, I shall tell everyone about my tadpoles. That is not so very shocking, is it?”
“Not improper, to be sure, but rather eccentric.”
“That's just what I want Sir Wilfred to think. I shall invite him to come to the scullery to see them.”
“I thought you put the tadpoles in the pond.”
“I took some home so that I can watch how they grow and change.”
Harriet sighed. “Definitely eccentric, but I do thank you, Mimi. Only I cannot help hoping that the man who saw you fishing will not spread the story. I wonder whether he is staying in the neighborhood.”
“I daresay he was just passing through.” Mimi didn't really believe that. She rather thought Mr. Simon Hurst must be staying at Mere House, and she was not at all sure whether she wanted to meet him again or not.
They rode on in thoughtful silence.
Lady Thompson's butler opened the front door to them and Mimi handed him the butterfly net.
“A successful expedition, miss?” he inquired, taking it gingerly between thumb and forefinger.
“Yes, thank you, Baird.”
“If you mean to take up angling, miss, I believe Lord Litton's tackle is in the gun room.”
“I should not dare to borrow his lordship's rod,” said Mimi hastily, remembering the tall, supercilious gentleman, Sir Josiah's sister's son, whom she had met two or three times on his frequent, though brief, visits to his aunt-by-marriage. “But perhaps I shall take up angling. Yes, that is a very good notion.”
“Then I shall endeavor to find Sir Josiah's rod for you, miss, though I fear it is rather an ancient device, quite outmoded according to his lordship.” He ushered them into the sunny, slightly shabby drawing room. “Miss Lassiter and Miss Cooper, my lady.”
“Come in and sit down, my dears,” said Lady Thompson, beaming. “Tea, Baird.”
“And biscuits, my lady?”
“Of course biscuits. Plenty of biscuits. And do stop waving that net about. Was it useful, Mimi?”
“Oh yes, ma'am, perfect.” Since becoming her neighbor, Mimi had grown very fond of Lady Thompson. She confided in her much more readily than she did in Mrs. Forbes, her own well-meaning but dull chaperon. Nonetheless, when she described her “fishing” expedition she omitted all reference to her meeting with Mr. Hurst.
Nor did her ladyship mention having a guest staying at Mere House. Mimi concluded, with a tinge of regret, that she was not going to see the impudent young man again. Guiltily she hoped that he had not had too far to ride shivering in his soaking wet clothes.
A maid brought in the tea tray. Harriet was pouring when the butler came in with a fishing rod and tackle box.
“Good heavens, Baird, have you run quite mad?” inquired his mistress.
His dignity unimpaired, the butler favored her with a look of utter disdain. “I trust not, my lady. Miss Lassiter expressed an interest in angling and I took it upon myself to offer the late master's equipment. Has your ladyship any objection?”
“You mean to take up fishing, Mimi?” Lady Thompson asked with lively interest. “An unusual pastime for a young lady, though not unheard of, and most certainly less peculiar than breeding frogs!”
“It is part of a plan, ma'am.”
“Tell me.”
“If Harriet does not object. She is concerned.”
The vicar's daughter blushed but gave her permission, so Mimi expounded her intention of attempting to give Sir Wilfred Marbury, Mr. Albert Pell, Mr. Blake the lawyer, and the Reverend Lloyd a disgust of her.
“Then they are bound to return to their pursuit of Harriet,” she explained. “It is not at all fair that they have abandoned her only because I am rich, but if they decide my conduct is unladylike they will not care for my money.”
“That remains to be seen.” Her ladyship sounded skeptical. “A noble enterprise, however, so long as you do not do anything too outrageous,” she cautioned. “If you are quite certain, Harriet, my dear, that you wish to marry one of those fickle young men?”
“I wish to marry, ma'am, and it is not likely I shall ever have a chance to meet any other gentlemen.”
“Very well, child.” She nibbled absently on her fourth gingernut. “The colonel's dinner party will be the perfect moment to set your plan in motion, Mimi.”
“It would be, ma'am, but I shall have to wait. Papa has a project of his own to propose. He is hoping to gain the support of the local gentry for founding an orphanage, so I must not invite their disapproval before they are committed.”
“An orphanage, eh? Tell me all about it,” invited Lady Thompson. Between them, Mimi and Simon were providing her with more amusement than she had had in years.
Chapter 4
“If I have to have Squire Pell on one side of me, can I not have Mr. Cooper on the other?” asked Mimi rebelliously, poring over the sheet of paper on the writing table before her.
“Sir Wilfred will be the only titled gentleman present,” pointed out her chaperon, wringing her hands. “He will be shockingly offended if he is not seated next to you.”
“But I want to offend him.”
“Not at the colonel's dinner party,” pleaded the Honorable Mrs. Forbes. The faded widow of the black sheep of a noble family, who had expired shortly after being exiled to join the East India Company in Calcutta, she had little expectation of being heeded. “He is not good enough for you, to be sure, and at another time it would not matter, but not at the dinner party, pray.”
Mimi sighed. “No, you are right. I said the same to Lady Thompson yesterday.”
“And your father wishes you to act as his hostess tomorrow. The proper arrangement of guests at the table is a most important duty of the hostess.”
“You don't mind, do you? Not being Papa's hostess any longer?”
“Not at all, dear. I have never been quite comfortable in the rôle, but I hope I have taught you all that you need to know.”
“I shall do my best to be a credit to you, ma'am. Sir Wilfred shall sit next to me. But I insist that Harriet is to be beside him, and Albert Pell on her other side. Mr. Cooper will have to go next to Lady Marbury, then, with you between him and Mr. Blake. Will that be all right?”
“So very difficult with a dearth of married couples,” Mrs. Forbes dithered.
“At least both the baronets' widows are next to Papa, each with a parson on the other side. They cannot quarrel about that.” Mimi dipped her quill and wrote in the names on her plan. “How complicated it is! Between that and the menu, we have been at it half the afternoon.” She scowled out at the downpour which had kept her within doors.
“Pray do not wrinkle your brow so, Mimi. You will develop lines.”
“I don't mind wrinkles, if they will only drive Sir Wilfred back to Harriet.” Nonetheless, she hastily smoothed her forehead with one fingertip. “If it is still raining tomorrow, perhaps some of our guests will not come. I could not bear it if our numbers are upset after all the work we have done.” Hearing a deep chuckle behind her, she swung round. “Papa!”
The colonel stepped into the ladies' sitting room. “I am come to upset your numbers, my love,” he said, a smile creasing his thin face, made leathery by the sun of India.
“I hope you are teasing, Papa.”
“Not I.” Taking a seat on a flowered chintz sofa by the fire, he held out his hands to the flames. A lean man in his mid forties, he was still unaccustomed to the chill of the English climate. “I have heard that Lady Thompson has a relative staying with her,” he went on, “a Mr. Hurst, who ought to be invited.”
“Oh no!” So he was still in the neighborhood! Mimi searched for a quick excuse to avoid extending the invitation he had requested. “There are no more ladies available to make up the numbers.”
“What of Harriet's sister?”
“Judith is only fifteen, and besides, she has a horrid cold.” Mimi joined her father on the sofa. “I believe I saw Lady Thompson's guest yesterday, riding by the mere. He must be a very distant relative, I think. He looked quite commonplace, not at all gentlemanly.” A true gentleman, she thought with renewed indignation, would not have demanded a kiss. He did not deserve to gain any of his claimed rewards. “And she did not mention him to Harriet and me when we went to tea.” The news had doubtless reached the colonel via the network of Mere House servants who had relatives working at Salters Hall.
“I understand he is come to learn estate management from Wickham.”
“Then surely we need not invite him? If he is nothing but a bailiff, he will not be in the least interested in your orphanage. Indeed, Papa, Mrs. Forbes and I have worked ourselves into a decline over the seating arrangements, have we not, ma'am? It would be too bad to upset everything.”
“Very well, my pet,” he said indulgently, patting her cheek. “After all, we have not been formally advised of his arrival. I don't wish to offend her ladyship, though. I shall tell her that the fellow is welcome to call at another time.”
With that Mimi had to be satisfied, and she admitted to herself that she was not wholly averse to meeting Mr. Hurst again. Seeing her in her proper setting would teach him to be more respectful.
* * * *
The following evening, she dressed for the dinner party with the utmost care. Since her aim was not to impress the guests but to persuade four of them to turn back to Harriet, this involved choosing her least fashionable gown, no easy matter.
Harriet, the daughter of an impecunious parson with a large family, would be wearing her best lavender sarcenet, newly turned to hide the worn spot. It really wasn't fair. Harriet would have loved to have pretty clothes, whereas Mimi was not particularly interested. The world was so full of other fascinating things.
Nonetheless, Mimi's wardrobe was full of muslins, silks, and satins in the white and pastel shades proper to a debutante. When the clothes had been purchased in London, Mrs. Forbes had muttered halfheartedly that brighter colors better became her charge than these wishy-washy newfangled shades. At that time, however, Mimi had wanted nothing more than to look like every other well-bred young lady, even though she had no expectation of a London Season. Supported, as usual, by her father, Mimi, as usual, had won.
If she had since come to recognize that her chaperon was right, that the deeper hues allowable for riding dresses and pelisses suited her far better, she was not one to repine. She would never be a beauty in the English style, and at least she was fashionable.
Now, though, she regarded the contents of her clothes' press with a discontented eye.
“I wish I had had my saris made up into gowns,” she pondered aloud, turning to the end of the wardrobe where the lengths of brilliant cloth hung. Asota, her little Indian maid, watched in bewildered silence. “Well, it's too late for now. I'll wear this one. Primrose makes me positively sallow so it will discourage my admirers without offending anyone.”
The pale yellow gown was embellished with knots of jade green ribbon on the high-waisted skirt and white lace trimmed the bodice and short, puffed sleeves. Asota helped her into it, then brushed her long, straight hair and pinned it in coils on top of her head. Mimi added a gold comb set with jade. She was completing the ensemble with matching necklace and earrings when Mrs. Forbes came in.
“Oh dear,” she said, her gray curls bouncing beneath a lace cap as she shook her head in dismay. “I thought I had persuaded you not to wear that one.”
Mimi giggled. “Is it so bad? That's perfect! You look very smart, ma'am.”
Mrs. Forbes wore black bombazine trimmed with jet beads. Round her neck on a black velvet ribbon hung a silver locket containing a miniature of the Honorable Maximilian Forbes, in a powdered wig. The only colour about her was a touch of rouge on her flat cheeks, a daring gesture she made whenever there were guests expected in the evening, but always trembling lest someone should look at her askance.
Mimi eyed the pink patches with a considering air, then shook her head. Not tonight, she decided. She didn't want to shock anyone yet, not while Papa was hoping for pledges of support.
They went down to the drawing room, where the colonel awaited them. Realizing that it was her responsibility to see that all was in order to welcome their guests, Mimi looked around the room with its blue and white striped wallpaper and elegant furniture. A cheerful fire flickered in the grate; the woodwork shone; no speck of fluff marred the pattern of the gray and blue Axminster broadloom. On a side table gleamed an elaborately chased brass tray from Benares with cut-glass decanters of sherry, madeira, and canary wine.
Her father was watching her, smiling. “Satisfied?” he queried. “Or shall I dismiss housekeeper, butler, and all?”
“Oh no, Papa, everything is just right, but I must check the dining room, too.” She went across to the connecting door and surveyed the long table with its spotless napery and sparkling glass. The butler, stout and stately, was giving a final polish to a silver spoon.
“All ready, miss. Now don't you worry, everything's going to go just fine.”
Mrs. Forbes would have been shocked had she known on what friendly terms her charge stood with the servants. Mimi smiled at him as she adjusted the position of one of the narcissi in a faience bowl in the center of the table.
“Thank you, Waring. With you in charge, I know it will. Did you memorize the seating plan? I have a copy in my sleeve.”
“No need, miss, I'll steer 'em right, never fear.”
“Good. Oh, there goes the door knocker!”
The butler sailed majestically toward the door to the hall as she slipped back into the drawing room. Moments later, she stepped forward with a gracious greeting for the first guests.
Lady Marbury's puce velvet gown, lavishly embellished with rouleaux and rosettes, clearly indicated whence had come her son's love of finery. Sir Wilfred decked out for an evening party was a sight to behold. Between hugely padded shoulders, his starch-stiffened shirt points threatened to commit mayhem at the slightest movement of his head. How fortunate, Mimi thought, that his chin receded. She could not imagine how he expected to enjoy his dinner when his coat was pinched in at the waist so tightly as to make breathing difficult.