The Heiress Companion (11 page)

Eliza’s demon spoke for her: “Yes, I know she will be
dreadfully
sorry to have missed you....” Her
voice trailed off suggestively.

“Will she?” Greavesey had no trouble in believing this
plumper; it had been his opinion for some time that Rowena Cherwood would,
given enough time, drop into his hands like a ripened peach.

“O, yes,” Eliza assured him, warming to her subject. “Why, I
— no, I ought not to tell you this —”

“O, Miss Eliza, surely —”

“Why, Mr. Greavesey, surely you know!” Eliza cried. “Miss
Cherwood has been — but no, I mustn’t betray a confidence. I know that there is
someone she has a partiality for, and —”

“Dare I hope, Miss Eliza?” Greavesey had forgotten the
medicine in his hand, forgotten the doctor waiting in the village for his
assistant’s return, had forgotten even the courtesy due a young lady. He sank
into a chair and raised his eyes to meet Eliza’s. Had he not been, as the
younger Miss Ambercot assured herself, such a loathsome little toad, she might
have had some compunction at this point about leading him on in this fashion. “After
all, I have the promise in me to become something of a man of substance, don’t I?”

“Certainly, sir,” she assured him demurely.

“It is not every young lady who can boast of such a suitor
as I,” he continued. To this statement, at least, Eliza could not take
exception (although he would not have been flattered by her agreement had he
understood her reasoning). “And after all, delightful as Miss Cherwood is, she
cannot have much by way of expectations except to continue in her present very
honorable, but somewhat depressed, condition.”

Eliza was a trifle baffled by this statement, which she
collected referred to Rowena’s employment, but again nodded confidingly. “Shall
I tell her that you called, sir?”

“No, no, my dear young lady, pray do not give yourself the
trouble. If you will direct me to the housekeeper or some other reliable
domestic with whom I may leave my medicines?”

Given Mrs. Coffee’s direction, Greavesey sprang up in a
fashion startling in one of his cadaverous appearance and walked — no, strolled
briskly off to locate her.

“Toad,” Eliza muttered to herself when she was certain he
was out of earshot. “They deserve each other!”

Quite comfortable in the knowledge that she had sown the
seeds of considerable trouble for Margaret’s cousin, Eliza settled in for a
short nap.

o0o

Jane Ambercot protested, after the first five minutes of
their ride, that she really could not stand to drive on such a glorious day — if
she truly was not to be allowed to ride, perhaps they could walk for a while?
Lord Bradwell seemed a little discomforted by the suggestion; it was plainly
unheard of to him that anyone, particularly anyone with Jane’s usual good
sense, could actually
like
to walk when she
might be driven in comfort. But Miss Cherwood and Miss Ambercot were being
handed down from the carriage by Lyn, and Jack Bradwell realized there was
nothing for it except to hand the reins to the groom and bid him return the
vehicle to the stable yard.

“I call that very accommodating of your brother, sir,”
Rowena confided to Lyn as they started off along the roadside, “considering
that he is obviously reluctant to take to his feet.”

“I suspect that if Jack ever musters the courage to re-propose
to Miss Ambercot, she will have him walking a great deal,” Mr. Bradwell replied
in a low voice.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“With a tendency toward corpulence, I suspect that walking
may be the very best thing in the world for my brother, ma’am. Do you think he
will
come to the point?”

Rowena, smiling, reflected that since the accident in the
kitchen there had been a considerable lessening of the formality between
herself and Lady Bradwell’s prodigal son. “How can you ask me, sir?” she
answered at last. “Can I be supposed to know?”

“To hear Mamma speak of you, yes,” he said in no uncertain
tone.

“O.”

“I don’t mean that to sound derogatory, Miss Cherwood. But
Mamma has been praising you to heaven and Anne Ambercot for your handling of
Margaret and Ulysses!”

“And nothing I can say will convince her that I did nothing
to forward the match, except to listen to each sympathetically. As a matter of
fact, I believe you are more to be congratulated as the author of that match
than I.” She waved aside his snort of indignation. “Eliza Ambercot said
something about an interview with you the other day, and I collect you were so
disobliging that she could do nothing to relieve her feelings but throw a fit
at Meg — Lully of course felt himself bound in honor to offer for her after
that.”

“What?” Bradwell looked at Rowena blankly. “What in God’s
name is the chit — O, damme, I recall it now. I was writing letters and she
wished to get up a flirtation or something.” They walked in silence for a few
minutes while he considered this. Jane, leaning on Lord Bradwell’s arm, was
listening with every evidence of interest as Jack described improvements in his
shooting cages.

“I hope he does offer for her soon.” Rowena chuckled drily. “Jane
should get some recompense for listening to that recitation!”

“Is that the only reason you can conceive of for her
marrying my brother?” Lyn regarded Rowena with something near dislike.

“Of course not. What a silly notion. I admit he should not
do for
me
, but all I meant was that. After
all, love oftimes adds a positive charm to the least likely topics — at least
to the listener who loves the speaker. Are you determined to pick a quarrel
with me, Mr. Bradwell?”

“No, certainly not,” he answered stiffly.

For a few minutes neither one said a word, each apparently
bemused. Rowena stopped to gather a few primroses, offering some to Jane and
carrying the rest herself. Bradwell, watching her, wondered if she knew the
picture she made, dressed in a peach-colored walking dress of jaconet over an
ivory slip, her leghorn hat lined and trimmed with the same peach hue which
framed her dark hair and vivid face; she carried the flowers in one gloved hand
and bent her head smilingly to breathe their fragrance. Bradwell smiled
himself, watching her, but when she turned to resume her walk at his side, his
eyes dropped very suddenly to his boots.

“Miss Cherwood?” he began at length.

“Sir?”

“I think — well, I must make my apologies to you.”

Rowena looked at him with some confusion.

“What on earth for, Mr. Bradwell? Unless you’ve committed
some solecism I’m unaware of, which I misdoubt.”

“Are you unaware of anything?” he retorted. “No, I didn’t mean
to sound that way. But Mamma said that you were under the impression that — well,
our first meeting was not exactly a fortunate one, and I was, I remember,
rather crude in my words to you on that occasion —”

“Never tell me that your mamma has been refining on that for
all this time!” Rowena said, altogether astonished.

Lyn flushed with irritation. “I’m not saying these things at
Mamma’s command, Miss Cherwood. I only meant to apologize if I had given you
the impression that I disliked you, and to hope that I had not given you an
ineradicable dislike of me.”

Rowena, uncomfortably aware that he was behaving far better
than she, curbed her unruly tongue long enough to thank him for his
consideration. “Shall we be friends, after all then? We do share at least one
common concern, you know.” Obviously Bradwell could not fathom her meaning. “Your
mamma, Mr. Bradwell.”

“Are you snubbing me by becoming the perfect companion
again, Miss Cherwood?”

“If I am becoming any such thing, Mr. Bradwell, I assure you
that it is entirely unintentional. Only, I am such an
imperfect
companion that I fear I take myself a
little too seriously at times. I apologize in turn if I have seemed a trifle
touchy on the subject.”

“Well, are you two done apologizing?” Jane’s voice broke into
a circle of silence that seemed to encompass Rowena and Lyn. “I’m afraid I am
less up to snuff than I thought, and Lord Bradwell suggests that we return to
Broak now.
I
think,” she teased, arm
comfortably linked with Jack’s, “that he is merely afraid that I will have a
fit of the vapors and he will have to carry me back to the house unassisted.”

“In such an event, Miss Ambercot, I assure you that I would
certainly do everything possible to lend him a hand,” Lyn informed her with
ridiculous propriety.

“And I should be delighted to carry your hat and parasol,
Jane,” Rowena added.

“No, but won’t you run along beside the spectacle and fan me
with my hat and threaten to go into strong hysterics?” Jane asked in tones of
deep disappointment.

Lord Bradwell regarded the three of them with a very
unappreciative eye and denounced them as completely daft.

“Not at all, Jack. I can see you simply don’t want to share
the honor of Miss Ambercot’s transportation with anyone else. I call that mean-spirited
in a man and brother,” Lyn complained bitterly.

“If it disappoints you that greatly, Mr. Bradwell, I can
contrive to faint too, and leave you to carry
me
back to Broak,” Rowena offered.

“Excellent, Renna!” Jane exclaimed delightedly. “If these
men do not behave themselves, I will walk ahead of you, and they may —”

“No, no, Janie, for who’s to carry you when you faint away?”
At last in the spirit of things, Lord Bradwell looked down at his companion
with such warmth that Rowena found it difficult to believe that some sort of
understanding did not exist between them.

“To answer your earlier question, Mr. Bradwell,” she
murmured up to Lyn, “I think that he must be very nearly on the verge of it
now.”

“The verge of what?”

“Of making your mamma a dowager in truth.”

Prevented by the nearness of his subject from quizzing Miss
Cherwood further on the topic of Jack and Jane, Mr. Bradwell wisely kept his
own counsel, and decided to watch the goings on about Broak Hall more closely
for a while: They threatened to become amusing.

o0o

Rather than the half-hour drive they had planned, the party
walked for little more than twenty minutes, and thus, when they returned to
Broak, Greavesey was in the process of walking his ancient mare up the drive
toward the main gate and the road for the village.

“My dear Miss Cherwood, it is of all things the most
fortunate that we have met!” he enthused. “Pray, let me return with you to the
house for a few minutes, for I have — heruhmah — some things to tell you from
the doctor.” If Rowena was not delighted with this plan she managed to control
her reaction fairly well. Greavesey fell into stride with her, and Lyn
Bradwell, on her other side, watched the progress of their conversation
straight-faced. Miss Cherwood, painfully civil, was obviously stifling a powerful
urge to hit Mr. Greavesey. The physician’s assistant, on the other hand, was
exerting himself to be as charming and suave as possible. For anyone but the
two conversationalists involved, it presented an amusing spectacle. Rowena
thought she sensed a smile edging the corners of Lyn Bradwell’s mouth, but was
helpless to do anything but make polite, noncommittal replies to Greavesey’s
inanities.

At last, back at the house, she requested that Mr. Greavesey
talk to her in the office, and led him through the house.

“Well, sir?” She turned to him after they had seated
themselves and the door had been shut to preclude interruptions. “Is there
something in my cousin’s progress which should alarm me? Or something about
Lady Bradwell? You might have left a message with one of the servants, you
know.”

“But I would have been denied the sight of your charming
visage, my dear Miss Cherwood,” he began.

Rowena tapped her foot on the floor, striving for patience. “Mr.
Greavesey, if you wish to please me, you will refrain from that sort of remark.
I don’t care for it in the least.”

Obviously, Greavesey thought, the lady had decided to play
the game of coy maiden. “Ah, you wicked thing, you seek to make me declare
myself before you will admit your own passions —”

“My
what
?” Miss
Cherwood, plainly thunderstruck, sat straight in her chair and stared.

“Well,” he continued heavily, unaware of her interruption. “I
am perfectly happy to do so. You must know that I have been quite deeply
affected by you since our first meeting some months ago. Oh, how long have I
hoped, waiting to see some answering spark in your eyes. And very pretty eyes
they are, too,” he added.

“Mr. Greavesey...” Rowena stood up, gathering herself. Any
man less self-absorbed would have quailed before the fire in her very pretty
eyes and the tone in her ordinarily humorous, low-pitched voice.

“In short, my dear, nay, my
dearest
Miss Cherwood, I have the honor — and I hope I do myself no harm in supposing
that it cannot be altogether a surprise to you, nor altogether unpleasant — to
ask for your hand and heart.”

“Mr. Greavesey, I think perhaps we have misunderstood each
other.” Rowena spoke as clearly as she could, as if she were speaking to a very
young child. “Flattered as I am by your kind offer, I am afraid that I cannot
accept it.”

“No need to feel yourself flattered, my dear Miss Cherwood.
And if it is your great sense of delicacy which forbids you to accept my
proposals, I wish you will not consider it. Surely, it would be to my advantage
to marry a woman of property, but where my heart is engaged I cannot quibble
over wealth or the lack thereof. What a splendid doctor’s wife you will make!
Can you not picture it? You know that Dr. Cribbatt has spoken to me more than
once of the day when I will take over his practice, and when that day comes,
dear lady —”

“When that day comes, Mr. Greavesey, I hope you will be
married to the woman you deserve,” Rowena said carefully. “But for now, I must
tell you that I do not think we should suit.”