A School for Brides (23 page)

Mrs. Fredericks was little more than a blur of movement and sound in the great hall of Crooked Castle as she directed her minions hither and yon. “Raise that bunting a bit higher, Gladys! On the right side. No, no, not my right,
your
right! Don't you know your right from your left, child? Oh, don't cry about it, but ask Greengages to teach you, there's a good girl. Or Cook. Cook is an educated woman. Agnes look at how creased that tablecloth is! Take it away and press it again. And Tom”—here she looked down upon the kitchen boy, who was carrying a platter of comestibles through to the kitchen—“if you so much as
think
about nibbling on those cheeses I shall know it, I promise you, and my wrath will be awe-inspiring, all-encompassing, and quite possibly fatal.”

Tom the kitchen boy let out a high-pitched giggle and escaped to the nether regions of the Castle with his cargo of cheddar and blue cheeses.

“Cecily! My dear girl, where have you been? I have been waiting for you this past hour at least.” Mrs. Fredericks swooped down on her niece as she slipped through the front door and began threading her way through the bustling crowd, all engaged in polishing, dusting, sweeping, or decorating. “Come with me at once. I wish to have a word with you. Quickly, quickly! Here comes Lady Boring, and I do so want to dodge her if I can.”

Obediently, Miss Mainwaring followed her aunt into the small drawing room that, in comparison with the public rooms, was an oasis of calm and silence.

“I must say this as speedily as I may, Cecily, before Charity hunts us down in our lair. I want you to arrange matters so that Mr. Hadley is left alone with Miss Crump for oh! at least half an hour's time. Do you understand? I don't want anyone to interrupt them.”

Miss Mainwaring's mouth fell open. “You—you want me to arrange a tête-à-tête between Mr. Hadley and Miss Crump?”

“Yes. Can you do it?”

“You want me to make it easier for . . . for Mr. Hadley to propose to Miss Crump?”

“Precisely!” Mrs. Fredericks beamed approval at this ready comprehension on her niece's part.

“But—but I don't
want
him to propose to her! Oh, Aunt, how can you be so unkind?” And Miss Mainwaring began to look a bit tempestuous.

“I want to get it over with, silly girl! We need to move past the proposal before we can do anything of value. Once he has proposed—”

“So here you are, Althea!” Lady Boring pushed her way into the little room, seeming to take up far more than her fair share of space. “Hiding away and allowing the servants to mismanage everything! I might have known. If
I
were giving this ball—”

“But as you are not, Charity,” responded her stepsister, “perhaps you could lend me your valuable assistance. There are several stacks of linen napkins that require mending—your sewing skills were always far better than mine.”

“You want me to mend your old linens? I think
not
! Althea, our relationship requires that I allow you a great deal of latitude, but no one could possibly blame me for taking offense. Your behavior is such that—”

And berating Mrs. Fredericks, Lady Boring followed her back to the great hall, leaving behind a sorely puzzled Miss Mainwaring.

“MR. HADLEY, DO
sit by us,” called Miss Mainwaring, making room on the small bench by the rose garden and beckoning the gentleman closer. It seemed to her that she was beginning to understand why her aunt wanted Mr. Hadley and Miss Crump left alone together, and she had decided to obey her instructions. “Oh, Miss Crump, pray do not go, I wanted to speak to you about the trim on my bonnet—you are
so
clever with bonnets.”

Miss Crump, whose ever-present bonnet had kept the same trimmings since it was purchased, cast a desperate glance toward the entrance to the schoolhouse. Miss Mainwaring took her hand and gently tugged her back onto her seat. Mr. Hadley looked somewhat surprised at being summoned from afar, but approached and sat down on the bench without argument. There was little to see in the rose garden at this time of year, and so none of the other students or teachers was nearby; most were playing at
paille maille
, or lawn billiards, visible in the distance but barely audible. It was a pleasant autumn day with blue skies and a bright sun, which made it possible to sit outside in comfort.

“I have heard you speak of your lovely home to Miss Crump, Mr. Hadley,” Miss Mainwaring continued, “and I know I should love to see that part of England. The Lake District is thought to be very beautiful, is it not? Although I believe it does receive a great deal of rain.”

Mr. Hadley approached this conversational gambit with caution. “Er . . . that is so, Miss Mainwaring. I think perhaps
you
would enjoy the Lake District. But it is not for everyone. Someone like Miss Crump here might find it entirely too damp for her health.” This thought appeared to be a happy one, for he went on, inspired, “
You
, Miss Mainwaring, who have spent time in foreign climes rigorous enough to try the constitution of an ox, you who have told me about the rainy season in the country of your birth,
you
might find the Lake District congenial. But Miss Crump, I do not know how you would like to find a slick of moisture on every surface in every season, and your dresses falling apart from rot. Are you at all inclined to respiratory conditions, Miss Crump? I fear a move to my part of the country might even be fatal to one like yourself who is clearly in delicate health.”

Miss Crump declined to have a positive malady of the lungs, but agreed with the proposition that she was not particularly robust.

Miss Mainwaring looked full at Mr. Hadley and said in friendly tones, “I would enjoy visiting your home someday. I hope I will get the opportunity. And now,” she added untruthfully, “I believe I hear Miss Quince calling my name. However”—here she fixed Miss Crump with a stern look—“
you
must stay here with Mr. Hadley until I return.”

In vain did Miss Crump struggle; it all was for naught. Miss Mainwaring stroked her trembling hands and Mr. Hadley was quick to beg her to remain. He gave Miss Mainwaring a grave and questioning look; she replied with a reassuring smile and a nod. It was their first collaboration as a couple; they understood each other without words.

“Be gentle,” she murmured to him as she stood, “she is a dear creature.” To Miss Crump she said, “I shall be but a few moments, I promise.”

She walked away, feeling like a beast for putting her poor friend in this position. However, a proposal would at least bring about a resolution to a situation that she knew Miss Crump found upsetting. If she would remain, hear him out, and then give her response—the only response she
could
give—it would be over. Mr. Hadley could report to his father quite truthfully that he had proposed and been refused; even Mr. Hadley Senior could not argue with a lady's direct rejection.

She walked about the lawn for some moments, scarcely conscious of her whereabouts, getting in the way of the
paille maille
players and annoying the onlookers. Poor Miss Crump! Perhaps, when Miss Mainwaring and Mr. Hadley had at last found their way to wedded bliss, they could invite her to visit—assuming that Mr. Hadley's contrary wooing had not put her off the district altogether.

Soon, much sooner than she could have expected, a glance in their direction revealed Mr. Hadley standing and beckoning her to approach.

Anxiously she studied her friend as she walked toward them. Even if she was not prone to respiratory weakness, she
did
seem to faint quite easily. However, she was sitting upright and, so far as it was possible to determine with a figure so heavily shawled and bonneted, she appeared to be in full possession of her faculties.

She shifted her gaze to Mr. Hadley. Never of a ruddy or bronzed complexion, Mr. Hadley's face appeared to be . . . not precisely white, but rather ashen. Misgivings stirred within her.

“How . . . ? Are you well, Mr. Hadley? Miss Crump? Jane?”

“Miss Crump has done me the honor,” said Mr. Hadley in a strained voice, “of accepting my proposal of marriage. We shall be wedded, subject to her father's approval, as soon as possible, so that Miss Crump can accompany me to our new home before the winter weather sets in.”

Miss Mainwaring, who had faced down tigresses, both literal and figurative, who had suffered great loss and journeyed from far lands to the place where she now stood, did not faint. She turned and walked away, leaving the happy couple alone, without a word of congratulation.

“I say, Miss Pffolliott, I wonder if I may be so bold as to ask you if you would be so kind as to save a few dances for me at the ball? I should like it awfully if you would.”

Miss Pffolliott blushed, not because of any refined sensibility, but because, although she seemed to possess not one, but
two
suitors, neither would be likely to arouse feelings of envy in the hearts of the other girls at the school. One of the men claimed to be desperately in love with her, but she could not believe in his assurances. Having lately had a chance to spend time with him in company, she had seen the way he looked at a blackberry trifle with rum sauce, and suspected that she knew where his passions really lay. And the other suitor, the one who importuned her now in front of
everyone
, was the widely despised Mr. Godalming.

The lawn billiards players seemed all to have heard the inquiry. They were too well-bred to stand and stare waiting for the answer; the sense she received was of heads tilting, ears tuned to hear her reply. Miss Pffolliott blushed again.

No, Mr. Godalming was not handsome or dashing or—or
desirable
in the usual ways that schoolgirls swooned over, but . . .

The truth was, she realized, that he liked and admired her, in much the same way as he liked and admired her dog, Wolfie. He thought her congenial and pleasant to talk to. He looked at her, Miss Pffolliott, and saw an ordinary, good-natured young woman well-suited to country life and country concerns. And that was a true assessment of who she was. Oh, she was pretty enough in the usual way, but she was not the heroine of a novel, fit for drama and a life of extraordinary joys and griefs. No, she was one who would find contentment as the wife of a gentleman landowner and farmer, a magistrate and person of importance in a small country village. She was cut from a simple, strong cloth that would wash and wear well, with modest trimmings for a holiday; she was not a fragile velvet or satin that must be kept for best.

She lifted her chin and said, in the face of all the interested onlookers, “Yes, Mr. Godalming, I should be delighted.”

He was anxious to tell her about one of his bitches that had whelped, and in fact, she found the discussion engrossing and pleaded with Miss Hopkins to escort her on a visit to see the pups as soon as possible. Wolfie, she thought, would make a doting uncle to the little ones and would greatly enjoy the outing.

She smiled on Mr. Godalming as he offered to run to the house for a cold drink to refresh her. No, his ugliness was of no consequence at all; it only made him more dear, in the same way that Wolfie's hideous leer made her smile.

How all of creation conspires against me!
thought Miss le Strange. She glared at the
paille maille
players on the lawn. With much hilarity, they were endeavoring to propel a ball through a hoop with wooden mallets, and were thus unaware of her baleful gaze, at least for the moment. She had hoped that the inhabitants of the school would be inside, perhaps doing something of a scholarly nature, instead of assembling en masse here, almost on the very spot where she had intended to carry out a covert act.

However, she would not allow her plans to be thwarted. Or, at any rate, thwarted any more than they already had been, she amended, grinding her teeth with a harsh sound that made her servant, Maggie, standing next to her, shudder. She had received a letter an hour ago that had made it clear that all her strategies and designs were as nothing, as thin and insubstantial as dust, and about to be blown away on the wind.

The letter was from Viscount Baggeshotte. In staggering letters that were barely legible, he repudiated the engagement she had worked so hard to achieve. Her lip curled in contempt as she read the words:
 . . . must have misinterpreted something I said . . . hold you in the highest esteem, but . . . a deathbed promise to my dear wife . . .
A deathbed promise, indeed! The old reprobate! The man was a cad, pure and simple.

And now he was removing Miss Crump from her care and control as well.
As you have seen her placed in a school of good repute . . . the child informs me that she is happy and does not desire to leave . . . letter of recommendation to help settle you . . . employment with an excellent family in Wales.

Wales!
Wales!
As if Yorkshire was not enough of a comedown! Wales! A place where they were so poor, they ate cheese instead of butcher's meat and called it “rabbit.” So poor that they could apparently not afford any vowels but instead spelled everything with an incomprehensible string of consonants! Miss le Strange spit upon Viscount Baggeshotte's “excellent family in Wales.”

At least she had her insurance plan, tucked away in the event that the tide of fortune should turn against her, which it most assuredly had. She meant to secure it without further delay and leave this place at once.