Elizabeth Mansfield (8 page)

NINE

Kit couldn’t tell if he’d come by his strong sense of duty naturally or if it had been drilled into him during his years of military service, but however he’d acquired it, he couldn’t rid himself of it. Though he longed to leave London and go home to Shropshire, that cursed sense of duty prevented him from leaving until he’d done what Mr. Halford, his aunts, and his conscience required him to do—to convince Caroline Whitlow to accept her bequest. Only then would he feel free to depart.

After a few days, however, his mission seemed hopeless. He’d called on the blasted Miss Whitlow every day, but whenever he sent up his card, the butler returned with the message that Miss Whitlow wasn’t in. He tried varying the time of his arrival; sometimes he would call in the morning, sometimes during the afternoon, but it made no difference. Once, in desperation, he appeared on the doorstep after nine at night, an unheard-of hour for paying calls. It had all been in vain. The stubborn, irritating chit would not see him.

Her two brothers were quite another matter. Having taken a liking to him at their first meeting, they’d told the butler to inform them when he called. They never failed to keep him company during his hours of fruitless waiting in Letty’s drawing room. The time was spent exchanging stories of their lives. The boys asked Kit about his part in the Peninsular campaign, and he asked them about their lives at the Grange. Their conversations were fascinating to all involved.

Kit was becoming very fond of the two boys. It did not take him long to discover that Gilbert’s moodiness could easily be turned to liveliness when someone paid attention to him, and that Arthur’s seriousness came from a thoughtful, intelligent mind. Now he had another reason for wishing that Caro would speak to him; he wanted to convince her to let him pay for proper schooling for the two of them.

One day, after giving up hope that Caro would come down, he invited the boys to go riding with him through the park in his phaeton. They had a rousing good time, and Kit won Arthur’s undying affection by permitting the boy to hold the reins. Then, on another day, after another failure to make contact with Caro, he took the boys on a tour of the Elgin marbles, an awe-inspiring exhibit during which they learned more about ancient Grecian culture than they would have in hours of tutorials. The boys enjoyed the outing so much they could hardly wait for the next one.

How could Kit guess that these simple activities would make their sister even angrier at him? But they did. Caro, who continued to blame him for driving her from her beloved Grange, now blamed him for the additional crime of worming his way into her brothers’ affections. “Every day since the Vexatious Viscount began to make his appearances on your doorstep, Aunt Letty, both Arthur and Gil have done nothing but sing his praises,” she complained to Letty one evening after the boys had been excused from the dinner table.

“The
Vexatious Viscount?
” Letty echoed, horrified.

Caro had the grace to blush. “That’s what I call him in my mind,” she said, dropping her eyes to the wineglass she was turning in her fingers.

Letty threw her a look of disapproval. “My dear, you’re quite wrong about Kit.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “Quite wrong. And to be irked at the man for being kind to the boys is grossly unfair.”

“It
would
be unfair, if his motives were
really
kind,” Caro argued, “but he’s only doing it to win me over.” She, too, got to her feet. “I won’t be won over, Aunt Letty, no matter what tricks the man uses.”

Letty shook her head in discouragement. “You’re a very stubborn creature, Caroline Whitlow,” she said as the two women made their way to the stairs. “Your brothers have been more animated since Kit’s arrival than I’ve ever seen them. Shouldn’t you feel grateful for that, at least?”

“Grateful?” Caro stopped in her tracks. “I don’t feel
at all
grateful! Did you
hear
the boys tonight? They babbled incessantly about nothing but Kit. Kit’s horses, Kit’s carriage, Kit’s army tales, Kit’s knowledge, Kit’s jokes. If you want the truth, Aunt Letty, it made me want to
scream!
”

They proceeded up the stairs in silence, but at the top Caro paused. “Things can’t go on this way, Aunt Letty,” she said thoughtfully. “I am a trial to you, I know. And so are my brothers. I must find work.”

Letty’s face fell. “But, my dear, that’s not true! I love having you all with me!” she cried.

“You are too good,” Caro said, taking her hand and squeezing it affectionately, “but I can’t continue to impose—”

“You are not imposing, I assure you. We’ve been getting on so well, haven’t we? It’s only on the subject of Kit Meredith that we disagree.”

“I know. Of course we get on. You have the most congenial nature. You don’t even get angry when we disagree. But I’m constantly aware of the sacrifices you must make in our behalf. At least, if I find work, I can help defray the expenses—”

“Nonsense,” Letty said firmly. “I have more than enough income to manage. I don’t even need Martha’s help, though she would gladly offer it. Besides, my love, it is not seemly for a lady to work for wages. You will lose all your chances to make a proper marriage, and you mustn’t do that. You mustn’t!” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at them. “Oh, my dear Caro,” she said in her trembling voice, “no one knows better than I how p-painful it is to be unmarried.”

“Aunt Letty, don’t!” Caro cried, taking the thin old woman into her arms. “I never meant to upset you. I am a beast.”

“You are the dearest girl in the world!” Letty wept into her shoulder. “That’s why I want you to have the h-happiness I never had.”

“But, Aunt Letty, I don’t understand.” Caro tilted up the wrinkled face and, taking the handkerchief from her, wiped up the wet cheeks. “Everyone says you turned down all your suitors. You never wished to marry, they say. Isn’t that true?”

“No, it’s not. I was very foolish. I lived in a world of dreams.” She straightened up and, leaning on her cane, set off down the hall. “If I had it to do over, I’d wed one of those flawed fellows instead of waiting for perfection ... for my dream to materialize. I’d be more ... more of a realist.”

Caro followed her. “But in looking for a post, isn’t that what I’m trying to do?” she asked. ‘Trying to be a realist?”

“No, I don’t believe you are,” Letty said, looking back over her shoulder at the younger woman, her brows knit. “I think, in your way, you’re as bad as I was. You expect people to live up to your dream of them.”

Caro stiffened. “If you’re referring to my view of the Vexatious Viscount again—”

“No, I wasn’t referring to him only. I was also thinking of your decision to look for a position. I don’t think that will be what you dream either.”

“Perhaps not. But I’m convinced I should try.”

Letty turned, hobbled back to her, and grasped her arm. “Please, Caro, don’t be hasty. Think about it. Promise me you won’t do anything to spoil your future.”

Caro looked down into the watery, worried eyes that gazed up at her so beseechingly and could do nothing but make that promise. But in her heart she knew it was an impossible promise to keep. How could she guarantee that she would do nothing to spoil her future? Life had taught her enough to know (even if Letty didn’t) that the future comes with no guarantees.

TEN

It soon began to seem to Caro that matters would go on forever in this dreadful fashion. Another week had gone by, yet the viscount was still making daily calls to which she refused to respond, the boys were still singing his praises, and Letty was still insisting that she should not try to find work. But nothing goes on forever, and the future, which she promised Letty she would try not to spoil, was about to burst upon her.

The significant event that was to change everything occurred, as significant events often do, on an inauspicious but rather lovely day. The sky was clear, the breeze fresh, and the weather just a trifle cool for April. Caro woke that morning determined not to put off any longer looking for a post. She could not, she felt, continue indefinitely to take advantage of Letty’s kindness. Therefore, while she and Letty lingered over their breakfasts she surreptitiously studied the advertisements in the
Times.

There was only one that offered promise: an advertisement for a governess in a household only a short distance from Letty’s house on Mortimer Street. Caro said nothing aloud, but she memorized the address in the advertisement. She made up her mind to apply for the position at once ... and in person. Excusing herself, she ran upstairs to dress.

She brushed her hair until the curls were restrained into a smooth line sweeping back from her face. Then she selected from her wardrobe a neat, workaday walking gown of yellow-and-blue striped muslin, but after she’d buttoned the high collar, she wondered if it was, perhaps, too severe. To counteract that impression, she put on a pretty, small-brimmed bonnet, the crown of which was trimmed with gold satin ribbon that had been twisted into charming little rosettes. Then she studied the effect in her mirror. Satisfied that she looked properly governess-ish, she stole down the stairs and slipped quietly from the house.

But the interview did not go well. It was so disappointing, in fact, that she wondered if Letty was not right about her—that she lived in a dreamworld. Certainly the reality of the experience was not at all what she’d dreamed. The lady of the house, a Mrs. Duckett, was a vulgar woman who asked foolish, irrelevant questions that Caro found embarrassing to answer, like, “Why ain’t ye married?” or, “Where on earth did ye purchase yer bonnet? My milliner can’t never seem to make the trimmin’s on my bonnets as pretty as that.” Caro, her cheeks burning, wished she’d worn something else.

Mrs. Duckett had four children, all of whom ran in and out of the room while their mother was conducting the interview, interrupting her rudely, demanding attention, and ignoring her snarled orders to be quiet. They all appeared to be monstrously spoiled and ill-behaved. Caro found them so disruptive that she barely knew how she managed to answer the rude queries at all.

Nevertheless, at the end of the interview, Mrs. Duckett surprised Caro by offering her the post. Then she enumerated the conditions of employment: for the meager sum of seventeen pounds per annum, Caro would be expected to be on duty every day (except for a three-hour period on Thursday afternoons when, if no emergency required her presence, she could go to visit her family), to give all four children their lessons, dine with them upstairs at the nursery table, see to all their needs (including their washing up and dressing), and to help serve dinners downstairs in the formal dining room when guests were present.

Caro could scarcely believe her ears. “Seventeen pounds a
year?
”
she asked, stunned.

Mrs. Duckett, her eyebrows raised as if offended by the vulgarity of being forced to discuss money matters, defended the salary by declaring, “After all, Miss Whitlow, ye’ll be livin’ here, in your very own room, and ye’ll have no expenses except yer clothes.”

Caro, numb and disappointed, told Mrs. Duckett that she would have to think the matter over. But even through the fog of discouragement, she realized that she could not accept the post. If she took a position that required her to “live in,” she would have to send the boys away to school, but at a salary of a mere seventeen pounds per annum, she could never afford it. The situation seemed hopeless.

She left the Duckett household so disheartened that she failed to notice that the weather had completely changed. The sky had darkened, and a steady rain had begun to fall. The pretty bonnet that had so entranced Mrs. Duckett wilted as she walked back toward Mortimer Street in an obvious daze, her steps slow and her thoughts muddled by a deep depression. Was a position like the one she’d just been offered all she could expect?
Is that to be my future?
she asked herself in despair as she stepped off the curb and started across the cobbles of Mortimer Street, ignoring the puddles that soaked her shoes.

A short distance away, on the other side of the street, Kit, his head lowered under a large black umbrella, was walking away from his aunt’s residence, on his way back to his rooms at Fenton’s Hotel. He’d just made one of his useless calls to try to speak to Caro, and, not having bothered to drive his phaeton on this occasion, was making his way back on foot. Irritated by having made another fruitless visit, he was remembering something he’d read in Latin during his college days:
A man who understands the disposition of women knows that when you will, they won’t.
He couldn’t help smiling at the recollection. It was strange how the sayings of the ancients came back to haunt one later with their truth. Who’d said it anyway? he asked himself. Cicero? Marcus Aurelius? Terence? Yes, that was it! Terence.

Just then, his musings were interrupted by a terrible noise, coming from a distance down the street. He looked up to see a cart, drawn by two cob horses, trundling toward him at breakneck speed, the driver shouting curses as he pulled back on the reins in a desperate but useless attempt to get the cobs in control. But what stopped Kit’s pulse was the sight of a young woman who, engulfed in some sort of daze, was heedlessly crossing the street in their path. “Look out!” he shouted in terror.