The Nonesuch Read online

  Critically surveying Miss Trent, Laurence doubted whether she would prove a satisfactory flirt. Not striking au fait de beauté, and too much of a Long Meg for his taste, but a distinguished-looking woman: nothing of the dasher about her! If Waldo didn’t take care he’d find himself riveted, and a rare kettle of fish that would be! The last of the Hawkridges leg-shackled to a nobody who earned her bread by teaching provincial schoolgirls to write and to cipher and to stitch samplers! Devilish funny that would be! But it was odd of Waldo to raise false expectations. Come to think of it, all his flirts were married women of the world, well up to snuff; and he had some pretty Gothic notions about trifling with females on the catch for eligible husbands. Still odder that he shouldn’t have seen that this Long Meg of his was badly love-bitten.

  Hot on the scent of this really succulent on-dit, Laurence sought information of his younger cousin, saying casually: ‘You didn’t tell me that Waldo had set up a new flirt. Who is she?’

  Julian stared at him. ‘New flirt? Waldo?’

  ‘Running rather sly, ain’t you?’ drawled Laurence. ‘Tall female – somebody’s governess, I collect. Lord, Julian, do you take me for a flat?’

  ‘Miss Trent! Good God, what next? New flirt, indeed! She’s Miss Wield’s companion: a most agreeable woman, but as for being Waldo’s flirt – ! You should know him better!’

  ‘No need to take a pet! All I know is that between the pair of ’em they set all the tabbies in an uproar last night!’

  ‘I daresay! They live on scandal-broth!’

  ‘But who is she?’ insisted Laurence. ‘Or is that one of those questions one shouldn’t ask?’

  ‘Not in the least. You are probably acquainted with her cousin, Bernard Trent. Her father was killed in the assault on Ciudad Rodrigo, and left the family all to pieces, I fancy. General Trent is her uncle.’

  ‘Is he, though?’ said Laurence, his eyes widening a little.

  He asked no more questions, because he didn’t want Waldo to think he was prying into his affairs, and Julian was such a bagpipe that you never knew what he might blurt out, in his artless way. Besides, Julian probably didn’t know any more. He had said enough to put quite a different complexion on the matter: it began to look as though Waldo was thinking of becoming a tenant-for-life at last. Nothing wonderful about that: he was bound to marry one day. The wonder was that with the pick of the ton to choose from he should throw the handkerchief to a mere Miss Trent, who might be well-enough born, but who was quite unknown, and hadn’t rank, fortune, or any extraordinary degree of beauty to recommend her. Lord, what a sensation it would cause! Laurence knew of several top-lofty beauties who would look blue when they heard of it, one of whom had once rudely snubbed him. It would be pleasant to whisper the news in her ear.

  Of course, it might not be true; he would be better able to judge when he had seen them together again. He hoped Miss Trent would be present at Mrs Underhill’s turtle-dinner: it seemed likely that she would be; and if she was he had every intention of making himself very agreeable to her. If there was the least chance of her becoming Waldo’s wife, it was a matter of the highest importance to stand well with her. Really, it was very fortunate that he had come to Yorkshire!

  Miss Trent was present at the dinner, but had she been able to do so without disarranging Mrs Underhill’s carefully planned table she would have excused herself. She did indeed venture to suggest that since Charlotte was suffering from severe tooth-ache, and would make no appearance in the drawing-room, it would be better if she remained upstairs with her, but Mrs Underhill would not hear of it. Where, she demanded, was she to find a lady to take Miss Trent’s place?

  ‘I thought, perhaps, since the Micklebys are coming, ma’am, you might invite the elder Miss Mickleby,’ suggested Ancilla, but without conviction.

  ‘Don’t talk so silly!’ begged Mrs Underhill. ‘As though you didn’t know as well as I do that Mrs Mickleby takes an affront into her head if anyone invites one of those dratted girls without t’other! Yes, and so she would if I was to invite either of them at the last minute, like this is, and I can’t say I blame her, for a very poor compliment that would be!’

  So Miss Trent submitted, and no one could have supposed, observing her cold composure, that she was suffering from acute embarrassment. To a proud woman of her upbringing the imputation of setting her cap at the Nonesuch was so abhorrent that she was nauseated every time she thought of it. Like some vulgar, scheming creature, without delicacy or conduct, throwing out her every lure to snare a husband! Worse! – a husband so wealthy and so distinguished as to be considered one of the biggest prizes to be won! And she the penniless daughter of an officer in a marching regiment! She could not accuse herself of having thrown out lures, but when she looked back over the past month it was upon a vista of rides with the Nonesuch, evenings spent in his company, strolling walks with him in the gardens of Staples, tête-à-tête, with him, jokes shared with him: all culminating in that disastrous ball, which she ought never to have attended. How indiscreet she had been! It must have appeared to everyone that she had gone to the ball, breaking her own rule, for no other purpose than to dance with the Nonesuch, and the dreadful truth was that she had. And who, seeing her waltz with him twice, and go in to supper on his arm, and allow him to fetch her shawl, would believe that she had committed these imprudencies unthinkingly, because she loved him, and had been too happy in his company to remember the delicacy of her situation, or even common propriety? She might as well have tied her garter in public!

  It was a severe ordeal to be obliged to appear at Mrs Underhill’s dinner-party, knowing that Mrs Mickleby’s sharp eyes would be watching her: perhaps, even, Mrs Chartley’s? She chose from her slender wardrobe the most modest and sober-hued of her few evening-dresses, and set a cap over her tightly braided locks, to which Mrs Underhill took instant exception, exclaiming: ‘Whatever made you put on a cap, as if you was an old maid of forty? For goodness’ sake, go and take it off ! There’ll be time enough for you to wear caps when you’re married!’

  ‘I have no expectation of being married, ma’am, and you know it is customary for a gover –’

  ‘No, and nor you will be if you don’t prettify yourself a bit!’ interrupted Mrs Underhill tartly. ‘If you aren’t wearing that old, brown dress, too, which is enough to give anyone the dismals! I declare you’re as provoking as Tiffany, Miss Trent!’

  So Miss Trent went away to remove the offending cap, but she did not change her dress, or come downstairs again until the guests had all arrived, when she slipped unobtrusively into the drawing-room, responding to greetings with smiles and slight curtsies, and sitting down in a chair as far removed from Sir Waldo as was possible.

  She was seated at dinner between the Squire and the Rector, and with these two uncritical friends she was able to converse as easily as usual. It was more difficult in the drawing-room, before the gentlemen joined the ladies. Mrs Mickleby talked of nothing but the waltzing-ball, and contrived, with her thin smile, to plant quite a number of tiny daggers in Miss Trent’s quivering flesh. Miss Trent met smile with smile, and replied with a calm civility which made Mrs Mickleby’s eyes snap angrily. Then Mrs Chartley, taking advantage of a brief pause in these hostilities moved her seat to one beside Ancilla’s, and said: ‘I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Miss Trent. I have been meaning for weeks to ask you if you can recall the details of that way of pickling mushrooms which you once described to me, but whenever I see you I remember about it only when we have parted!’

  Ancilla could not but be grateful for the kindness that prompted this intervention, but it brought the colour to her cheeks as Mrs Mickleby’s barbs had not. She promised to write down the recipe, and bring it to the Rectory; and wished very much that she could retire to the schoolroom before the gentlemen came in. It was impossible, however: Mrs Underhill expected her to pour out tea later in the evening.
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  A diversion (but a most unwelcome one) was created by Tiffany, who suddenly exclaimed: ‘Oh, I have had a famous notion! Do let us play Jackstraws again!’

  Since she had broken in not only on what Patience was saying to her, but on what Mrs Mickleby was saying to Mrs Underhill, this lapse from good manners made Miss Trent feel ready to sink, knowing that Mrs Mickleby would set the blame at her door. Worse was to come.

  ‘I was hoping Miss Chartley would give us the pleasure of hearing her sing,’ said Mrs Underhill. ‘I’ll be bound that’s what we should all like best, such a pretty voice as you have, my dear!’

  ‘Oh, no! Jackstraws!’

  ‘Tiffany,’ said Miss Trent, in a quiet but compelling voice.

  The brilliant eyes turned towards her questioningly; she met them with a steady gaze; and Tiffany went into a trill of laughter. ‘Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean to be uncivil! Patience knows I didn’t, don’t you, Patience?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ replied Patience instantly. ‘I think it would be much more amusing to play Jackstraws. But Miss Trent will beat us all to flinders – even Sir Waldo! If you and he engage in another duel, ma’am, I shan’t bet against you this time!’

  Miss Trent could only be thankful that at that moment the door opened, and the gentlemen came in. She was able to move away from the group in the middle of the room on the pretext of desiring one of the footmen to open the pianoforte and to light the candles in its brackets; and she remained beside the instrument, looking through a pile of music. After a minute or two she was joined by Laurence, who came up to her, and said very politely: ‘Can I be of assistance, ma’am? Allow me to lift that for you!’

  ‘Thank you: if you would put it on that table, so that the instrument may be opened – ?’

  He did so, and then said, with a winning smile: ‘You must let me tell you how delighted I am to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, ma’am. With one member of your family I’m already acquainted: I believe Bernard Trent is your cousin, is he not?’

  Miss Trent inclined her head. It was not encouraging, but Laurence persevered. ‘A first-rate man! The best of good company! We are quite old friends, he and I.’

  ‘Indeed!’ said Miss Trent.

  He was not unnaturally daunted, for her tone was arctic, and the look in her eyes contemptuous. He wondered what the devil was the matter with her, and felt aggrieved. Anyone would have supposed that she would have been glad to meet someone who knew her cousin, but instead she had snubbed him! Pretty well for a governess! he thought indignantly.

  She realized that she had spoken curtly, and added, with a slight smile: ‘I daresay you are better acquainted with him than I am, sir. He has never come very much in my way.’

  She turned away, to adjust one of the candles, and as she did so looked up, to find that Sir Waldo was standing within easy ear-shot. Her eyes met his, and saw that they were alight with amusement, and involuntarily she smiled. It was only for an instant, but Laurence caught the exchange of looks, and was so much pleased to find his suspicion confirmed that he forgot his indignation. If ever two people were head over ears in love! he thought, and tactfully moved away.

  Sir Waldo strolled up to the pianoforte, and picked up the snuffers. As he trimmed one of the candlesticks he murmured: ‘He meant well, you know! Of course, I ought to have warned him.’

  ‘I’m afraid I was uncivil,’ she owned.

  ‘No, no, merely quelling!’ he assured her.

  She could not help laughing, but she was aware of Mrs Mickleby’s eyes upon her, and said: ‘That was very bad! Excuse me – I must speak with Miss Chartley!’

  She walked away immediately, and contrived to remain at a distance from him until the tea-tray was brought in. She was ably assisted by Mrs Mickleby, who kept him at her side, and maintained a flow of vivacious small-talk until Patience had been persuaded to sing. After that, Tiffany renewed her demand that they should play at Jackstraws, which enabled Miss Trent to retire into the back drawing-room, where she became busy, finding the straws, and settling the four youngest members of the party round the table. Sir Waldo made no attempt to follow her; but when she was obliged to return to the front drawing-room, to dispense tea, he came up to the table to receive his cup from her, and asked her quietly if he had offended her.

  No, but people are saying that I have set my cap at you!

  Unthinkable to utter such words! She said: ‘Offended me? No, indeed! How should you?’

  ‘I don’t know. If I did, I should be begging you to forgive me.’

  Her eyes smarted with sudden tears; she kept them lowered. ‘How absurd! To own the truth, I have the headache, and should perhaps be begging your pardon for being cross and stupid! This is Mr Chartley’s cup – would you be kind enough, Sir Waldo, to give it to him?’

  He took it from her, but said: ‘If that’s the truth I am sincerely sorry for it, but I don’t think it is. What has happened to distress you?’

  ‘Nothing! Sir Waldo, pray – !’

  ‘How intolerable it is that I should be forced to meet you always in public!’ he ejaculated under his breath. ‘I shall drive over tomorrow – and hope to find you, for once, alone!’

  That made her look up. ‘I don’t think – I mean, it is not – that is, I cannot conceive, sir, why –’

  ‘I wish for some private conversation with you, Miss Trent. Now, don’t freeze me with Indeed! as you froze poor Laurie, or tell me that you can’t conceive why I should hope to find you alone!’

  She forced her lips to smile, but said with a good deal of constraint: ‘Very well – though it is true! But you must know, sir, that it would be quite improper for me – in my situation – to be receiving visitors!’

  ‘Oh, yes! I know that. But mine won’t be a social call!’ He saw the guarded look in her face, and his eyes twinkled. ‘I have a – a certain proposition to lay before you, ma’am! No, I shan’t tell you what it is tonight: I can see you would bite my nose off !’

  Thirteen

  But when Sir Waldo called at Staples next day he entered upon a scene of disorder. He did not see Miss Trent at all, but he did see Mrs Underhill; and when she had explained why he should have found them all in an uproar, as she phrased it, he made no attempt to see Miss Trent. He had clearly chosen the wrong moment for declaring himself.

  Miss Trent, withdrawing from the party as soon as she had poured out tea, had gone upstairs to find Charlotte looking flushed and heavy-eyed, and obviously suffering a good deal of pain. Her old nurse was ministering to her; and she made it plain that while Miss Trent was at liberty to instruct her nurseling, neither her advice nor her assistance was required when Miss Charlotte was feeling poorly. She had several infallible remedies for the toothache to hand; and although she was sure it was very obliging of Miss Trent to offer to sit up with Miss Charlotte there was not the least need for her to put herself out.

  Correctly understanding this to mean that any attempt on her part to lend Nurse her aid would be regarded by that lady as a gross encroachment, Miss Trent retired, not unthankfully, to her own room, and to bed.

  But not to sleep. She was tired, but her brain would not rest. The evening, which was fast assuming the proportions of a nightmare, had culminated in a brief exchange with the Nonesuch which provided her with much food for thought, and was open to more than one interpretation.

  It was during the small hours that she was roused from a fitful doze by the creaking of a floor-board. She raised herself on her elbow, thrusting back the curtain round her bed, and listened. A heavy footfall, which she instantly recognized, came to her ears, and the creak of the door that led into the servants’ wing; and without troubling to light her candle from the tinder-box that stood on the table by her bed, she got up quickly, groping in the dim dawn light filtering between the blinds for her slippers, and shrugging herself into her dressing-go
wn. She saw, when she went out on to the broad passage, that the door into Mrs Underhill’s room was open; and she went at once to Charlotte’s room, where, as she had feared, a most distressing sight confronted her. Charlotte, having stoutly declared when she bade her governess goodnight that she was better, and would be as right as a trivet by morning, was walking up and down the floor in her nightdress, her cap torn off, and tears pouring down her face. Nurse’s infallible remedies had failed; Charlotte’s toothache had grown steadily worse, until she had been unable to bear it with fortitude any longer. She was obviously almost crazy with pain; and Miss Trent, perceiving that the glands in her neck were swollen, and recalling a hideous night spent in ministering to her brother Christopher in just the same circumstances, had little doubt that an abscess was the cause of her agony. Nurse had tried to apply laudanum to the affected tooth, but Charlotte screamed when she was touched, and behaved so wildly that Nurse had taken fright, and gone away to rouse her mistress.

  Mrs Underhill was a devoted parent, but she had very little experience of illness, and could scarcely have been thought an ideal sickroom attendant. Like many fat and naturally placid persons, she became flustered in emergency; and as her sensibility was far greater than her understanding the sight of her daughter’s anguish upset her so much that she began to cry almost as much as Charlotte. An attempt to cradle Charlotte in her arms had been fiercely repulsed; her fond soothings had had no other effect than to make Charlotte hysterical; but thankful though she was to see Miss Trent come into the room she was quite indignant with her for showing so little sympathy, and for speaking to Charlotte so sternly.