Agnes Or The Art 0f Friendship

by Catherine Bowness

  “Never danced before? Oh, I wish I had been the first to lead you out! Who was he – the first man with whom you stood up?”

  “Lord Danehill.”

  “Good God! I remember him – he has something of a reputation with women. I hope you will be careful of him.”

  “Does he have a bad reputation in any other way?” she asked, now close beside the bed.

  Sir John reached out his hand again and drew her down to sit on the edge.

  “He’s a gamester, as I was, but he had more luck. He rides hard and has kept a constantly changing set of Cythereans over the years. He is not young though, is he? Over forty, I should say.”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Why do you want to know so much about him? Has he made your heart flutter? Are you beginning to fall in love with him? If so, have a care for he has reached an advanced age without having approached the altar and has ruined many a young girl, even some from the highest rank. He has, of course, a fine old title and, if he fell in love with you, might even reform. I know I would!”

  “Do you think he would? Truly?”

  “For love? Yes. But I am not convinced that he has a heart and, if he has not, he will be unable to fall in love. Have I already lost you to him?”

  “What? I – I am not yours to lose, sir!”

  “No; unfortunately. Are you his?”

  “No, there is no danger of that. I do not like him but I am afraid that my friend does and I – I am afraid for her. I have tried to warn her but I think she finds the danger stimulating.”

  “I daresay she does – women often do, which is why they are so easy to seduce but, it seems, hard to marry. Are you sure you do not want him yourself?”

  “Quite sure. Do you think I am refining upon what can only be instinct? I have, after all, no real evidence for my anxiety.”

  “No, probably not. Who is your friend at the big house? I assume she is rich since I don’t recall ever paying my addresses to a female for any other reason. That might attract him because, although he never seems to be short of the ready, he is exceedingly extravagant and could no doubt do with an injection of funds.”

  “I am fairly certain he has been invited by her parents as a suitor and I suspect – sir, pray, pray do not divulge a word of what I am saying to anyone else – that she is attracted to him, for all she states that she has no wish to marry.”

  “Oh, you do not want to pay any attention to women who protest that they have no desire for a husband; nine times out of ten that is precisely what they seek, although I know to my cost that they can still turn out to be excessively fussy about his nature. As a matter of fact I can understand that for I am aware that it is a very big decision for a woman. Is she the same age as you?”

  “Yes. She was presented five years ago but met no one she liked well enough to marry. I believe she did meet Danehill but rather think he failed to express any interest at the time.”

  “Very likely not. He is bound to have the pick of the marriage mart; he’s a handsome man too – or he was – and now that he’s five years older he must be thinking seriously about the succession. Who is she? You might as well tell me for I am bound to find out sooner or later. Don’t forget it would be a simple matter to ask Mama who owns this cottage. You said earlier that I once courted her but, as I have made innumerable approaches to heiresses and been rejected every time, that information does not greatly narrow the field.”

  “I thought you said it was easy to seduce women.”

  “Seduce them, yes, but it seems impossible for a man such as me to persuade one to marry me. They are not, you see, the same women.”

  “No. Perhaps if you were to want to seduce an heiress she might believe your protestations of love and – and submit.”

  “But I never have, you see – protested love – never felt it. I can see you disapprove of fortune-hunters but, you know, heiresses are frequently just as single-minded in pursuit of that to which they believe their money entitles them: generally a premier peer. I suppose it would not be unfair to observe that, where they look no further than the peerage, I look no further than the fortune; thus we never become sufficiently acquainted to form an attachment. In any event, my rank is not high enough to compete with a Marquess. Who is your friend?”

  “Louisa Newbolt,” she admitted, seeing no point in continuing to refuse to name her since, as he had pointed out, he could very well ask his mother.

  “Oh, yes, I do remember her. She was very young when I met her but she took a strong dislike to me – has she told you what an odious man I am? I see she has. Even then, she was what I believe one might call a ‘managing’ female. I wonder what Danehill would make of her as a wife; I should imagine they would be at each other’s throats most of the time.”

  “She is an excessively kind person,” Agnes protested.

  “I don’t doubt it; she struck me as somewhat moralistic – again she will have plenty to say to Danehill on that score. Kind, yes – to the deserving poor - but not to the undeserving, amongst whose number I fall. Why did she take pity on my mother? Presumably because she wanted you close by?”

  “Yes, I think that was part of her reasoning but she has grown attached to your mother.”

  “They have a good deal in common,” Sir John observed in a bitter tone. “My mother is also inclined to moralise and does not subscribe to a belief in redemption.”

  “She is very unhappy,” Agnes said.

  “Yes; but I cannot help suspecting that she almost wishes I had died out there in Africa. Charles is a much more reliable character and also a little inclined to stake out a claim to the high moral ground. They would be more comfortable without me in their way.”

  “I think you refine upon your own perception of your sins too much. They love you dearly and are much exercised regarding your health. Also, to take a moralistic tone myself: I cannot help noticing that you seem determined to look upon the black side of everything, most of all your own character. I cannot think that joining up as a mere soldier was a sensible decision and I must assume that you did it in order to make them – your parents and your brother – feel bad.”

  “Good God! I daresay you are right! Do you think it possible that I can be redeemed if I am very, very good?”

  “Yes, but not if you look at the matter in such a childish manner. I cannot think that going to the other end of the world was a sensible way to try to recoup the fortunes of your family.”

  “Clearly not, since it has not had that effect. I begin to wish I had had the benefit of your opinion a couple of years ago. However, you must not forget that, when I left, my father was alive; managing the estate to try to turn a profit was not something I was in a position to do.”

  “Did he not discuss it with you?”

  “No; he treated me like a tiresome child and handed out ever-increasing sums of money to shut me up. Perhaps that’s why my attitude is so infantile. I will try to be more grown up in future but I still cannot think where I can obtain sufficient money to pay off the creditors. Even if I could manage the estate to make enough to live off, I would never be able to pay them off during my lifetime. You have no idea how huge the debts are.”

  “I have more than you might imagine. Your mother could not face dealing with your father’s correspondence and asked me to attend to it. I have, therefore, I confess, a very good notion of the extent of the debts.”

  “Ah! And how, since you seem to know so much, would you deal with them?”

  “I have no idea. I suppose you could sell some of the land – and perhaps some of the cottages, but I daresay that would not be enough.”

  “No. The only way that I can see would be if, for the first time in my life, I were to make a substantial win on the cards! No, don’t look so anxious, I shall not. Just over a year ago I made a wager with a young woman that, if she won the game of piquet we were playing, I would never bet again on anything. She did win and I have not – and will not. How’s that for strength of mind?�
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  “Impressive – but I did not accuse you of weakness of mind. Were you in love with her?”

  “No; I had asked her to marry me but she rejected me, like everyone else. Clearly I am unmarriageable!”

  “As am I!” she murmured.

  “You! Oh no, you are eminently marriageable so long as the man has enough juice. Danehill might even choose you over Miss Newbolt’s fortune.”

  “I see no reason why he should not fall in love with her,” Agnes protested.

  “If he wants a fight every day of his life, I expect he will. I used to think ‘’tis pity she’s a woman’ because the best thing for her – and for him – would be for her father to take her on as a business partner. Instead, he – or more likely her mother – is determined to marry her to a nobleman and consign her to a life of idleness. I am not surprised to learn that she feels disinclined to marry when that is what awaits her.”

  “I suppose that running the Danehill estate might occupy her,” Agnes suggested rather half-heartedly for she could not see Louisa happy to do her husband’s bidding.

  “He would not let her – what run the whole business, decide on how they should manage the land, the tenants and all the investments? I cannot see that he would want to do that; I daresay he would be happy for her to run the houses; indeed that would be expected of her, but the whole business of being Marquess of Danehill? No, I don’t think so.”

  “And would you have let her run your estate? If you think that is where her talent lies, perhaps you should have handed it all to her in order to turn a profit?”

  “I might have done; my estate is much smaller than Danehill’s and, until my father died – indeed even now – I have little idea of what has been done and what should be done to turn a profit. But she and I would not suit and, if I seemed unattractive five years ago, I am very much more so now. In any event, I no longer wish to marry her.”

  “How fortunate then that you did not do so,” she retorted.

  Chapter 21

  The plan for the party at Newbolt House that first morning largely consisted of riding. Of course some of the ladies did not ride, including Mrs Newbolt herself, who had been used to when she was younger but now preferred to walk in a decorous manner around the edge of the lake. Those ladies who did not wish to dash about the countryside in imminent danger of breaking their necks, as she put it, were invited to wander down to the lake where chairs had been set up and refreshments would be served continuously. Several thought this an attractive prospect; one or two thought they should ride in order to impress the gentlemen and a few were exceedingly keen on the exercise: the faster and more risky the terrain the better they were pleased. Louisa was among this group and led the way out to the stables soon after breakfast so that those ladies who wished to accompany her could be provided with suitable horses.

  She wore a dashing crimson riding habit with a matching hat sporting several feathers and drew envious glances from most of the females and admiring ones from those gentlemen who liked spirited young women.

  There was no intention to hunt – Mr Newbolt did not belong to one and, having invited a number of gentlemen who were well known for riding to hounds - and indeed owned hunting lodges in the best sort of territory for the pursuit - had no wish to appear either ignorant or presumptuous. The ride was therefore just that: a ride.

  Neither Mr Armitage nor Agnes had returned by the time the party set out.

  “Where is your little friend this morning?” the Marquess asked Louisa.

  “She has gone home.”

  “And Mr Armitage likewise?”

  “Yes; they walked back across the fields this morning. I expect them for dinner at the latest.”

  “Are we only to see Miss Helman in the evening?”

  “I hope we shall see her this evening but she will not be here every evening – nor every day. She has, after all, a job and an employer she cannot abandon the whole time.”

  “I see. And what of Mr Armitage? He has a job too, I understand.”

  “Yes; I am not certain how long he will be able to stay. I believe he may have to go back to London before the rest of you, but I hope he will return for the ball at the end.”

  “Oh yes – the ball. I am looking forward to that. Have you invited many of the local families?”

  “I believe so; it would be rather a small ball if it were only to include those staying here at the moment. Shall we catch up with the others?”

  While they had been talking she and the Marquess had been ambling along in the wake of the majority of the riders, who had set off briskly and were now applying their heels to their horses’ sides and beginning to canter.

  “By all means,” he agreed but he waited until she had shot off before he followed.

  Louisa sat a horse with grace and looked a fine figure flying along at speed, her horse’s tail streaming behind.

  The morning flew by, hedges were jumped, streams forded, and the riders returned with rosy cheeks and happy expressions to join the more sedate party by the lake in time for a substantial luncheon, which was already laid out upon the tables.

  “I see you have enjoyed yourself, my dear,” Mrs Newbolt greeted her daughter, who had come down to the lake without pausing to change her habit.

  “Yes; you should come next time, Mama.”

  “If it made me look as handsome as you do, my love, I believe I would not hesitate to abandon these ladies to amuse themselves and accompany you. I trust nobody fell in the stream.”

  “No, I do not believe so; we are all accounted for. I will go and change. I see there is still no sign of Agnes or Mr Armitage.”

  “Not yet, but here is Lord Danehill. Will he not do to entertain you?”

  “Why, of course he will, Mama; it was only that I wondered if you had received word of when – if – they will be coming back.”

  “No.”

  As the Marquess appeared beside her and bowed over her mother’s hand, Louisa made to leave.

  “What, driven away by my arrival?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “By no means, my lord. I go only to exchange my habit for a gown more suited to lounging by the lake.”

  “Oh, in that case I will not detain you although I do not think I have ever seen a woman whom a riding habit becomes so well.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Louisa was perfectly accustomed to receiving compliments from gentlemen and took most of them with a generous pinch of salt but one coming from such a source was hard to ignore. She knew that a riding habit did become her, its rather severe style well suited to a tall, handsome woman. Her mother, a shorter, rounder type of female, would not have looked so well in spite of her earlier comment. Indeed, Louisa had sometimes wondered if her mother had abandoned riding on account of having, in spite of all her efforts, put on more weight than fitted becomingly into a habit.

  Mrs Newbolt was clothed now in figured muslin with a shawl gracefully draped across shoulders that were still much admired. Her face, a little too highly coloured to be altogether natural for a lady of advancing years who had spent the morning doing nothing more energetic than drinking coffee, was shadowed by a large blue bonnet, copiously loaded with silk flowers.

  Louisa, conscious of her mother’s attentive ear, shook herself impatiently and removed her riding hat as she turned on her heel and set off with long strides towards the house.

  The Marquess was beside her in a moment.

  “Did I say aught to irritate you?” he asked in what she considered to be a falsely solicitous tone.

  “No. How could you have done? You paid me a compliment.”

  “Indeed – and it was no more than you deserved. You look exceedingly fine in a habit – and the hat added to the effect. Is that perhaps why you removed it?”

  “That would be absurd. Women are supposed to value compliments, are they not?”

  “It is certainly my experience that most women do but you, Miss Newbolt, are not quite in the common run o
f females, are you?”

  “Am I not? Should I take that as an insult?” she asked, pausing.

  “I did not mean it as such.”

  “No, I am certain you did not. However, the truth is that by praising my appearance in a habit I have become conscious that muslin gowns do not suit me so well. I am too tall to carry off the ‘little woman’ effect with anything but awkwardness. My friend, Agnes, on the other hand, looks charming in muslin.”

  “I am sure she does – but does she in fact possess any? She looks like the sort of female who is generally dressed in cotton; last night’s silk is, I suspect, her only formal gown.”

  Louisa, now even more irritated that the conversation had turned once more to her friend’s virtues – although she had introduced the subject – lifted her chin in a combative manner and said, “Miss Helman does not, it is true, possess an extensive wardrobe.”

  “No; she is too poor but I daresay she would not be too proud to be pleased to accept any gowns you no longer require.”

  “I have given her several,” Louisa exclaimed, now furious at being told how to treat her impecunious friend. “I have even had them dyed because, since she has been here, she has worn nothing but mourning. We are, as I am persuaded you have not failed to notice, very differently shaped but fortunately she is an excellent seamstress. The one I lent her this morning was turned up by my maid overnight to save her the trouble although it remained a trifle over-large in places.”

  “Indeed. I did not have the pleasure of seeing her this morning but I have no doubt she looked delightful. From your tone, I take it that you are of the opinion that I value her size more than yours; I can assure you that such is by no means the case. You, Miss Newbolt, are a goddess.”

  “Hmn – and what is she?”

  “A nymph, a naiad – not, in any event, a goddess.”

  “I see. I daresay most gentlemen prefer nymphs.”

  “They are a little less intimidating; there is always the fear of being struck down by a goddess or turned into something unpleasant.”