Miss Dower's Paragon

by Gayle Buck

  She discovered that it was a mistake to meet his eyes. As Mr. Hawkins indicated his preference, he smiled at her. Her heart uncomfortably contracted and Evelyn quickly looked away. She added the small amount of milk to his tea that he had requested and offered the cup to him.

  As he took it, their hands brushed, and the feathered touch of his fingers electrified her.

  Evelyn felt the flush of heat in her face. Annoyed with herself, she poured her own tea in unseemly haste and splashed it. She snatched at a napkin to mop up the evidence of her discomfort, and in the process overset a small basket of fruit.

  Evelyn was mortified. Angry tears came to her eyes. She would have given anything not to have made such a thorough idiot of herself in front of this particular gentleman. Surely he must be laughing under his breath at her expense. After the manner in which she had treated his suit, she could scarcely blame him if he should now enjoy her discomfiture.

  The napkin was taken gently out of her hand.

  “Allow me, Miss Dower.”

  Evelyn looked up quickly. She met Mr. Hawkins’s eyes with defiance. “I am not generally so clumsy, sir,” she said, daring him by her tone and by her expression to contradict her.

  “I am certain of it,” he said gravely. He made short work of setting the tray to rights.

  Evelyn would have been astonished and not a little dismayed to have known how accurately he guessed the extent of her discomfort, and how well he judged her for what he assumed to be a manifestation of her sensitive nature. It was only natural that a well-bred young lady should feel uncomfortable at being left alone with a potential suitor, he thought.

  Mrs. Dower bustled back into the sitting room. “We shall be served directly, Mr. Hawkins, for it will take Cook but a moment. I do hope that you will forgive me for leaving you in such an abrupt fashion.”

  Mr. Hawkins had risen at once at the older lady’s entrance. Now he sketched a slight bow as he waited for her to reseat herself. “Of course, ma’am. Pray do not spare another thought on it. Miss Dower was charming company and has kept me very well entertained.”

  Evelyn flushed again, but in fury. She could not believe the audacity of the man in making game of her clumsiness. When she chanced to meet her mother’s inquiring glance, she said frostily, “Indeed, Mama! Mr. Hawkins was kind enough to help me with the tea. Do you wish to take a cup?”

  Mrs. Dower’s brows puckered slightly. She wondered what had taken place while she was out of the room. Her daughter was obviously much annoyed. “Thank you, my dear. Two lumps only, if you please. I find that I do not quite like my tea so sweet in the warmer weather that we have been enjoying this past fortnight.”

  She turned to their guest. “Mr. Hawkins, I trust that dear Lady Pomerancy is well? I have not seen her ladyship since I last took tea with her. I hope that she is not suffering a renewed bout with her joints?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, Mrs. Dower. However, her ladyship remains in her usual strong spirits, and as you mentioned, the weather is becoming warmer, so that I am persuaded that she will quickly come about again,” said Mr. Hawkins.

  “Dreadful to suffer so. My own dear father was afflicted in just such a way. I recall quite vividly how the pain so reduced his temper that we all ran in terror of his awful rages,” said Mrs. Dower.

  There was an instant of awkward silence. Feeling constrained by civility to do so, Evelyn sent a conciliatory smile toward Mr. Hawkins. “It is difficult to imagine Mr. Hawkins running in terror of her ladyship.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Dower,” said Mr. Hawkins with the faintest of grins. “Mine is a most sensitive nature. I assure you that I am easily cowed.”

  The gentleman’s teasing manner caused Evelyn to arch her brows. “Are you indeed, Mr. Hawkins? Certainly I would not have thought it.”

  He looked on the point of a retort, which Evelyn awaited with lively interest.

  But before Mr. Hawkins could reply, Mrs. Dower interjected, having belatedly realized that she had made a faux pas. “I do apologize! I never meant for a moment to imply that Lady Pomerancy was of a freakish temper. Though her ladyship is somewhat severe, I would not precisely term her to be so cross that—”

  “Mama, perhaps you should have one of the biscuits,” said Evelyn in a determined fashion, offering the tray to her mother.

  Mrs. Dower, whose percipience was not great, nevertheless realized that her daughter was attempting to distract her from her course of conversation. Thoroughly dismayed, she said, “Oh dear, I have put my foot in it, haven’t I?”

  Her contrite expression was such that Mr. Hawkins laughed.

  Evelyn regarded him in amazement as he replied in all apparent good humor, “Not at all, Mrs. Dower.”

  Evelyn, who had formed the opinion that he was dreadfully starched up, had already bristled in defense of her dear but foolish parent. It took her very much by surprise when her intervention was not needed. Her brows knitting, Evelyn studied Mr. Hawkins with renewed interest and a trace of bewilderment from over the top of her teacup. Her preconceived notions of his character had been thrown off balance once again.

  The door to the sitting room was opened. A footman entered laden with a tray of sandwiches, which he deftly set down before the ladies.

  “Oh, here it is at last! May I tempt you, Mr. Hawkins?” Mrs. Dower asked, indicating the tray. She was gratified when the gentleman made a generous selection.

  Mr. Hawkins sampled a sandwich. “You must convey my compliments, ma’am. This is indeed a repast fit for a large, hungry gentleman.”

  Evelyn choked on her tea. Her indignant eyes met Mr. Hawkins’s bland expression. He was shameless, she fumed.

  Completely oblivious to undercurrents, Mrs. Dower was emboldened by the gentleman’s graciousness to confide in him something of her concerns. “Actually, I should not dare to say anything to the point at all, for I am petrified of her ladyship. How does she look at one! I feel no more than a fidgety schoolgirl brought up before the matron.”

  “My grandmother cultivates a stem exterior but I assure you that her heart is very soft, indeed,” said Mr. Hawkins.

  “Well, certainly there is no one who could be better expected to know,” said Mrs. Dower with a dubious tone.

  Evelyn perceived it was again time to rescue the conversation in order to spare them all any further inadvertent embarrassment. Ruthlessly she changed the subject. “Mr. Hawkins, you were in London before coming down to Bath, were you not? How could you bear to tear yourself away from the beginning of the Season? I would have thought Bath was rather staid compared to the entertainments to be found in the city.”

  Mr. Hawkins smiled, appreciating Miss Dower’s obvious desire to protect her parent. “While it is true that I enjoy the Season’s offerings, I always take pleasure in returning to Bath for I count it to be more my home than anywhere else since my childhood was spent here. As you can surely understand, Miss Dower, I hold my grandmother in considerable affection and I visit her as often as she allows me to. Lady Pomerancy scolds me if I am too long away from London, however, for she deems society the proper milieu for any unattached gentleman.” His rueful smile invited them to share in his amusement.

  Mrs. Dower obliged him by laughing even though she was unclear exactly what it was that she was supposed to be amused at. However, she knew very well that gentlemen liked their little jokes to be appreciated and so she nodded. “Quite true.”

  Though Evelyn had also smiled, her attention was caught by the implication of what Mr. Hawkins had said. “I assume then that you will be returning to London quite soon,” she said, raising a brow in delicate inquiry.

  Mr. Hawkins’s smile gentled. He said quietly, pointedly, “I have no such plans, Miss Dower.”

  His clear blue eyes caught her glance, and held it for several moments. Time stretched. Evelyn realized belatedly that she was staring. Quick color entered her face. She bent her head and pretended to be absorbed suddenly with choosing a small apple from the fruit bowl.
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  Mr. Hawkins continued as though there had not been that amazing moment of communication. “I am awaiting the arrival of my cousin, Viscount Waithe, who will be staying with us for several days. So you see, Miss Dower, I am not the only London gentleman who finds something of interest in Bath.”

  “It is the fisticuffs match, of course,” said Mrs. Dower, nodding.

  “What did you say, Mama?”

  Mrs. Dower met her daughter’s astonished gaze with an apologetic glance. “I am sorry, my dear. I should have recalled it earlier, I know. I always tell Evelyn every interesting tidbit that comes to my ears, you see, Mr. Hawkins. I heard of the match whilst visiting with the butcher this morning. Mr. Gumpner is a very talkative gentleman. So interesting, the things he knows.”

  “Mama, really,” Evelyn murmured, dismayed, throwing a glance in the direction of their guest. She knew all too well that gossiping with tradespeople was frowned upon, and she prepared to shield her mother from disapproval.

  Contrary to her fears, however, Mr. Hawkins but laughed. “Yes, I fear that it is the fisticuffs match that brings the viscount,” he admitted. “We gentlemen are notorious for our vulgar tastes in entertainment, I fear.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. There is something peculiarly appealing about the masculine sports, I have always thought,” said Mrs. Dower. “My late husband was himself very fond of the ‘rough-and-tumble’ as he called it, and I never thought him more handsome than when he returned from a bout at the saloon, still flushed and possessing that martial light in his eyes.” There came a faraway expression into her eyes and the slightest of smiles touched her lips.

  Mr. Hawkins appeared a good deal astonished by Mrs. Dower’s reminiscence, but he made no comment upon it. Instead, he turned and engaged Evelyn in polite conversation. The conversation did not again stray from general topics before Mr. Hawkins finally rose to take his leave.

  Evelyn felt a sense of letdown as Mr. Hawkins made his excuses. However, she smiled politely and said what was expected of her. It was not that she felt inclined to keep the gentleman with them any longer. On the contrary, she was rather relieved when at last the door closed behind him. Yet there was something that seemed missing to her.

  Evelyn reviewed the visit in her mind.

  Mr. Peter Hawkins had been all that was kind and agreeable. He had been considerate and forbearing toward her mother when that lady had unthinkingly insulted Lady Pomerancy’s redoubtable character. He had not put forth a single opinion that one could have taken exception to, nor reparteed one of her own statements in a lively fashion. All in all, with the exception of that one striking glance that he had leveled at her, Mr. Hawkins had been an extraordinarily boring guest to tea.

  Evelyn realized that had been the trouble. Mr. Hawkins had committed the unpardonable sin. He had not shown the smallest hint of partiality for her, even when her mother had absented herself those few moments from the sitting room. Instead, he had put himself in the least romantic light by indulging in desultory conversation and had ended by expressing his pleasure in their company.

  Mrs. Dower had been speaking at some length before Evelyn became aware that her mother was discussing their departed guest, and that her mother’s opinion very nearly echoed her own.

  “So kind, so proper—the perfect gentleman. Do you not agree, Evelyn?”

  “Oh, yes,” Evelyn sighed. “Yes, I most certainly do.”

  It was an incredibly lowering reflection.

  Chapter Five

  The Pump Room was well crowded when Evelyn and her mother entered through its august portals. The elegant columned room was a gathering point for Bath society, even for those who did not take the healthful waters. An orchestra played in the balcony, providing a nice counterpoint to the myriad conversations going on all sides.

  Evelyn had always enjoyed accompanying her mother to the Pump Room. It was a pleasant excursion into the society that she had not yet entered, and invariably she heard or saw something that interested her.

  As usual, Mrs. Dower saw several acquaintances, and she paused many times to exchange greetings and small conversation. She made a point of bringing Evelyn to the attention of all they met, to that young lady’s astonishment. The dowagers and matrons responded with a friendly scrutiny of Evelyn and issued kind invitations to the Dower ladies for whatever functions that they were getting up.

  Evelyn snatched at a quiet lull in their social progress to say in a low voice, “Must you put me forward in such a way, Mama? I have known most of these people all my life, after all.”

  “But you are coming out now, Evelyn, and this is simply one way of notifying everyone of the fact,” said Mrs. Dower. Her gaze traveled beyond Evelyn and she smiled and put out her gloved hand. “Oh, Mr. Hawkins. Good morning, sir.”

  Evelyn turned her head and met the gentleman’s gaze. There was an expression of approval in his eyes as his glance swept her appearance before returning to her face. Knowing that she looked her best in a new straw bonnet and a blue morning dress trimmed in satin ribbons, Evelyn responded without thought to his obvious admiration. She smiled shyly at him, thinking how well he looked in a morning coat with plated buttons and pantaloon trousers.

  Then she abruptly recalled that he had offered for her because he had been told to do so. Her smile faded to little more than a polite expression.

  Mr. Hawkins was not unaware of the sudden clouding of the warmth in her eyes, but he pretended otherwise. He bowed over each of their hands in turn. “Mrs. Dower, Miss Dower.”

  Evelyn murmured a greeting, very much on her dignity now that she had remembered the insult he had dealt her. She was prepared to pull her hand free if he took the slightest liberty. But he did not, instead letting go of her fingers immediately so that she had nothing to object to in his attentions. The gentleman was impossibly infuriating, she thought crossly.

  “Have you come to take the waters?” Mr. Hawkins asked.

  “Oh, no. I fear that I cannot like the stuff, you see. It quite escapes me why everything that one is supposed to take for one’s health is always so foul-tasting,” said Mrs. Dower.

  Mr. Hawkins smiled and agreed. “I personally would not willingly choose to drink something tasting of sulphur, but many are convinced that but adds to its healthful properties. I am on the point of fetching a glass for Lady Pomerancy. However much she detests the water, she still reluctantly follows her physician’s orders.”

  “Quite admirable for her ladyship, I am sure,” said Mrs. Dower. “Oh, there is Lady Pomerancy, sitting close to the hearth. It is terribly drafty in this high room, is it not? I myself never come without a shawl—she has seen us.” The last was said with a strong overtone of consternation.

  “We must go over and pay our respects, Mama,” Evelyn said. She smiled again at Mr. Hawkins, discreetly nudging her mother’s elbow.

  “Oh yes. Of course we must.” Mrs. Dower did not sound particularly enthusiastic, and in fact there was such an expression of dismay in her eyes that Evelyn could not but feel sorry for her.

  “I shall join you presently,” said Mr. Hawkins. He sauntered off in the direction of the pump where there was a short line of the fashionable waiting to receive their dose of health.

  Mrs. Dower looked wildly about. “Do I see Aurelia by the window? Why, I do believe that must be her. I shall just go over and—”

  Evelyn caught her mother’s elbow. “No, Mama. We must speak first to Lady Pomerancy. You know that we must. She has waved at us, and Mr. Hawkins knows that we have seen her.”

  “But I do not wish to speak to her ladyship. Oh, Evelyn, why ever did you turn down Mr. Hawkins’s suit? Lady Pomerancy must be so very angry with me,” said Mrs. Dower.

  “Mama, we shall not discuss that again, if you please, and especially not here. As for speaking to Lady Pomerancy, if you do not do so you will be giving her the cut direct. How do you suppose that will affect her temper?”

  Mrs. Dower turned startled eyes on her daughter. “Oh my! I had not
thought—! Evelyn, how terrible that would be! How very glad I am that you are with me, you cannot conceive. Yes, by all means let us go greet Lady Pomerancy. She cannot exactly eat me, after all.”

  Evelyn laughed at the almost forlorn note in Mrs. Dower’s voice. She squeezed her mother’s hand. “Never mind. I shall be with you.”

  “I do not know that is such a good thing, for she must be ever so much angrier at you than she is at me,” said Mrs. Dower, sighing.

  Evelyn ignored this observation and inexorably led her reluctant parent over to the lady who awaited them.

  Lady Pomerancy was seated in her wheelchair as though it were a throne from which she presided over a royal court. Her posture was regal, and the piercing expression of her pale eyes was discomfiting. She held out her hand to Mrs. Dower. “Well, ma’am? My grandson had told me that you have been somewhat out of curl. I trust that you are in the way of better health?”

  Mrs. Dower flushed guiltily, aware that Lady Pomerancy was alluding to her previous unavailability to all of her visitors. “Oh, yes. A trifle only, I assure you.”

  Lady Pomerancy smiled faintly, immensely satisfied at the ease with which she had reduced the woman. She turned her sights on the younger lady. “I have not seen you in a great age, Miss Dower. You have improved vastly, I must say. I recalled you as a thin girl, all matchstick arms and legs. I was much surprised to hear my grandson describe you as otherwise.”

  Evelyn smiled, deliberately attempting to be at her most charming. She knew very well that Lady Pomerancy had seen her at chapel on any number of occasions through the years, though that lady had recently not attended as often as had been her former want. “I suppose that is why one is not allowed out of the schoolroom until one acquires a certain age. I hope that you are well, my lady?”

  “Very well, thank you,” said Lady Pomerancy firmly. Her eyes traveled past the ladies, and a softened light entered her austere glance. “Ah, here is Peter at last with my first water. Thank you, my dear.” She stoically drank from the glass that her grandson had presented to her.