Ridiculous

by D. L. Carter

  “Well, now,” said Mr. Prichart, rising. “I shall have no trouble waking anyone tomorrow morning since they will not have a wink of sleep tonight. Even so, up you go and off to bed.”

  Millicent bowed as the ladies left and grinned at the smaller boys. Leaning forward she whispered as they left. “When I was younger, I was glad I slept in my brother's bed when there was a bad storm.” And the boys all agreed that was a good thing.

  Once they were alone, Millicent bowed to Shoffer.

  “You have an excellent speaking voice, Your Grace, and an entrancing manner. Should you ever tire of your responsibilities, I can predict a successful career upon the stage for you.”

  “And I for you. I shall do the dramatic parts and you, the comedy.”

  “And Lady Beth for Juliette.”

  “She is a trifle shy for that, but much better than I have seen before. I judge you have a good effect upon her.”

  Before Millicent could reply there was a light knock on their door. Shoffer nodded permission for Millicent to answer. She was halfway across the room before she realized she had responded to an order not even uttered. Wrinkling her nose she opened the door to reveal their host.

  “Mr. Prichart?”

  Their host stared straight over her shoulder as if she was not there. Millicent began to feel like a particularly clumsy and inconsequential butler.

  “Ah, good. I caught you before you were abed, Your Grace. The rider you sent out earlier has returned. He said that the weather has changed and there will be a heavy freeze tonight.”

  “Oh?” Shoffer stopped loosening his cravat and paid more attention. “How long will the freeze last?”

  “I know not, but my feeling is that you should plan on leaving early in the morning. If the frost holds hard you should be able to get to Merthyr Tydfil by luncheon. If the weather breaks, as I fear it will in a day or so, we shall have either sleet or snow. Either way the roads will be dreadful. It would be better we get you to Merthyr Tydfil, or you may end up caught with us here till summer.”

  “I agree. I shall go and so inform my sister and her chaperone. Mr. North, can you and Mr. Prichart be finished with your business by first light?”

  “We have agreed in principle to the changes in his rents,” said Millicent. “There is just the enscribing to be done.”

  “Then have at it, sir; then, we shall get what sleep we can. Mr. Prichart? If you could inform our staff of our departure?”

  “I suspect your rider has already informed them of his observation. Well, Mr. North, shall we adjourn to my office?”

  Sighing Millicent resigned herself to another hour tied inside her breast bindings and trailed along behind Mr. Prichart.

  * * *

  Mrs. Fleming was not a person who traveled well. Even in the best of weather, she kept her hartshorn close to her nose and a bowl between her feet. Having to travel in freezing weather was trial enough, but in bad company? Horrors!

  She was not pleased that Lady Beth had disobeyed her the previous day and socialized with her inferiors. And now, to be trapped inside a carriage with the fribble Mr. North for hours, it was not to be borne! It was that lady's full intent that Mr. North be brought to an understanding of his inferior position in relation to the great house of the Duke of Trolenfield, even if it took the whole journey to Merthyr Tydfil to do it.

  The milieu was, therefore, not very comfortable inside the rented carriage the next morning. Millicent, never been fond of sitting with her back to the horses, endured as best she could, since manners required that ladies face forward. Mrs. Fleming had arranged things so that Shoffer sat opposite his sister and Millicent faced Mrs. Fleming's deepest and most speaking frown.

  There was not a joke or frivolous remark Millicent made that could shake that lady's disapproval. Lady Beth and Shoffer, however, exclaimed themselves well pleased with their traveling companion and competed with each other to cap Millicent's jokes.

  “What are your plans for the summer, Mr. North?” asked Beth as the carriage lurched and shuddered over frozen ruts in the road.

  Since the girl’s face was pale with a faint green tinge, Millicent was determined to be distracting.

  “My habitual laziness has been undermined by Mr. Prichart's demand I should visit his farm. After meeting him, I find myself overwhelmed with curiosity about the rest of my holdings. I expect I shall spend the spring and summer going from farm to farm, dazzling the farmers’ wives with my wit and…”

  “And debauching the farmers’ daughters?” accused Mrs. Fleming.

  “I think I have more respect for my tenants than that,” said Millicent in chill tones. “What I intended to say was, avoiding the parson's mousetrap.”

  “I could see that Mr. Prichart's daughters were very impressed with you,” laughed Beth.

  “Not me,” said Millicent. “I could stand on my head when your brother is in the room and no one would glance at me.”

  “The very idea!” gasped Mrs. Fleming. “I hope you gave them a stern set down, Your Grace. Such presumption! That is why I insisted that Lady Elizabeth should hold herself distant from those people. The duchess will not be pleased to hear you permitted Lady Elizabeth to be approached by those of such low estate.”

  “I saw nothing wrong with Beth meeting examples of hard working people,” said Shoffer. “Much of our wealth comes from the labor of such and she should know and respect them.”

  “She should pay charity calls in the company of a vicar’s wife,” declared Mrs. Fleming, “but by no means should she enter their houses or speak to them beyond the most condescending of greetings. To do more would be a degradation.”

  Beth flushed and Millicent remembered the girl describing a scene involving a cottage fireside and kitten. Obviously, Beth had done more than nod from her place in a barouche while doing community visitation.

  “I do not believe speaking to another human being is in any way a degradation, Mrs. Fleming,” said Beth, surprising that lady into dropping her hartshorn. “They have souls, as do I.”

  “Her Grace, your grandmother, would be shocked to hear you say so, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Since she is not here, then she shall not know,” said Shoffer, his direct gaze setting Mrs. Fleming to the blush.

  Beth bounced on her seat as much from the uneven road as her own excitement at challenging the authority of her chaperone.

  “I am looking forward to the summer house parties I shall be attending. I hope to dance more than I did during the season.”

  “Her Grace has already written to your hostesses informing them which persons it will be appropriate for you to dance with,” said Mrs. Fleming.

  “As I will be attending these gatherings as well, my sister may apply to me for guidance and I shall provide any introductions that are necessary. It is my intention that Beth should enjoy herself.” Shoffer glared at Mrs. Fleming, awaiting her response with interest.

  Millicent caught Beth's eye and grinned.

  “Lady Elizabeth may enjoy herself, within reason,” replied Mrs. Fleming.

  “Within reason? I have often wondered what reasonable enjoyment looks like,” said Millicent. “Is it one third of a picnic, or one quarter of being rowed about a lake?”

  “An hour of horseback riding in bad weather,” suggested Beth. “One half hour of whist with a deaf partner.”

  “You enjoy that? I am all astonishment,” cried Millicent.

  “Lady Elizabeth,” cried Mrs. Fleming. “Mr. North, I do protest. You are overly familiar. His Grace's sister, should you presume to address yourself to her, is Lady Elizabeth!”

  “Truly?” asked Millicent.

  “Elizabeth Rose Edwina Genevieve Helene, actually,” said Lady Beth.

  “Good heavens. You should be six feet tall to bear the burden of so many names.”

  “It is the weight of them that keeps me short,” joked Lady Beth.

  “Of all the preposterous things!” The carriage bounced and swayed at that point and Mrs.
Fleming went decidedly green. “Oh, why must we travel in this dreadful farm cart?”

  “It is a rented vehicle, I do admit, Mrs. Fleming,” said Millicent, “but travel tomorrow would be worse and if we stayed another day, then we might be trapped at the manor in a blizzard. Just imagine the degradation.”

  “Oh, yes,” added Beth. “Why if I had another two conversations with Mrs. Prichart, I should lose all my good sense and my speech would be provincial beyond all repair.”

  “This is not a matter for humor,” cried Mrs. Fleming. “Your Grace, I do not understand why you do not support me in this? Your sister's reputation, her very station, may be undermined by such bad associations.”

  “I do hope, Mrs. Fleming, that you are not suggesting that I am leading my sister astray?”

  The chaperone gave a long suffering sigh. “Your Grace, you are a man…”

  “Never say so,” cried Beth. “Timothy, is this true? How long have you been a man? And what of Mr. North? Is he a man as well?”

  Millicent's heart stopped, skittered, then Beth burst out laughing, soon joined by her brother. Mrs. Fleming scowled at them both.

  “I would judge, Your Grace,” said Millicent when her heart resumed a regular beat, “that your sister has improved somewhat in the matter of chatting.”

  “Never say this change has your approval?” demanded Mrs. Fleming.

  “It has, although, Beth will need to practice the degree of speech appropriate for the company she is in. Such informality as today is appropriate for dear, close, and trusted friends such as Mr. North, but not for common acquaintance.”

  “I understand,” said Beth, calming, but flashing Millicent a sparkling look from beneath her lashes.

  “I do not agree,” said Mrs. Fleming, “and Her Grace will not approve. Mr. North is exactly the type of encroaching person that she most dislikes. I shall write to her as soon as we arrive at the inn.”

  “No, you will not,” said Shoffer. “My sister is currently in my care and if I approve her conduct there is no reason for you to communicate with my grandmother. In fact, I think I disapprove of the degree of familiarity between you and Her Grace. Are you not being presumptuous? Encroaching?”

  The suggested hypocrisy set Mrs. Fleming to the blush.

  “Her Grace has commissioned me to do so.”

  “And, I, since I pay your salary, say you should not!”

  There was a heavy silence in the carriage as Mrs. Fleming digested this announcement. Millicent wondered how much the duchess gave the chaperone for her to be a tattle tale upon her granddaughter.

  “I wonder why it is your grandmother has permitted you out of her sight?” said Millicent, when the silence lingered too long.

  “Oh, she has been unwell since the season,” said Lady Beth. “The London air is foul with smoke and she has retired to the countryside to recover.”

  “She would have kept Beth with her,” added Shoffer, “but I suggested she come home with me. Her Grace's residence is too far from any company and I feared Beth would… Well, I wanted to encourage her to be more social and thought she could do so in my neighborhood. There are no people her own age near my grandmother's abode.”

  “Lady Elizabeth,” repeated Mrs. Fleming.

  “Are you suggesting that you may order me not to call my sister by an informal name?” asked Shoffer in chilling tones.

  Mrs. Fleming faded from green to very white.

  “Lady Elizabeth Rosemary Gertrude,” said Millicent. “I'm sorry, I have forgotten the rest. In your kindness, may I be permitted to call you Lady Beth?”

  “You may not, you encroaching mushroom,” cried Mrs. Fleming.

  “Yes, he may.” Lady Beth scowled at her chaperone. “Mr. North is my brother's particular friend and I regard him highly as well. I should like it very much if he would call me Beth.”

  Mrs. Fleming retreated to the depths of her cloak to cope with her rage and nausea as best she could for the remainder of the journey.

  “To stave off boredom, may I suggest we play Faro?” suggested Millicent.

  “We will not be able to shuffle or lay out the cards the way the carriage bounces about,” protested Lady Beth.

  “Ah, but there is a special way to play in these circumstances,” said Millicent. “You do not use cards at all.”

  Shoffer stared at Millicent until she felt surely he must see through her disguise; then he laughed and shook his head.

  “Very well, I yield. Tell me, how do you play cards without cards?”

  “It all depends on how convincing you are.” Millicent's eyes were wide and innocent, for just an instant; then she grinned wickedly. “If you claim you have laid down the Queen of Hearts and I do not believe you, then, sir, you may not play that card. But if you can convince me you have it in your hand; then the card is played.”

  “How do I convince you?”

  “How well do you remember what cards look like?”

  “I understand,” cried Beth, and indeed she proved most proficient at bluffing. By the time they reached Merthyr Tydfil she had bluffed and teased them both out of twenty pounds.

  * * *

  They spent three days in Merthyr Tydfil enjoying what few distractions and entertainments could be obtained in a market town during rain mixed with sleet. Beth located several maps of England and Wales in a local bookshop and the three amused themselves trying to locate the Shoffer family and North properties and planning out Millicent's summer journey. Shoffer's memory proved useful for Millicent, as he had traveled in the area before and could recall which were the best inns on any particular road; therefore, he could give sensible suggestions to Millicent upon her itinerary. On the third day, the Trolenfields’ second best coach arrived. The next day, since the weather was dry, for that instant, the decision was made for Shoffer and his sister to depart immediately. Beth demanded a promise that “Mr. North” should write to her. Shoffer granted his permission for the communication with the proviso that he be permitted to write as well. Laughing, Millicent gave those promises and waved them off, fully expecting never to see or hear from them, him, again.

  Despite her best efforts to put Shoffer out of her mind, she cried herself to sleep that night. Worse, she requested the innkeeper move her from the room she had previously occupied into the one used by Shoffer for those three nights; and she slept, curled up on the same mattress, hugging the pillow that was briefly his.

  Idiot, she told herself, and yet her grief was irresistible. She had met the perfect man, young, strong, handsome, and humorous, who had listened to her nonsense, had laughed with her and teased her.

  And not for a moment had he realized her true gender.

  Not that it was surprising. Her breasts were barely noticeable even naked. Her hips were slender and her hair, shaggy, unkempt. What sort of woman could she be under such circumstances? She must content herself to be a plain and inconsequential man.

  Necessity demanded it.

  It would have been best if she had never met him. Never known the pain of wanting. And yet, she gave thanks that she had met him and dreamed of him nightly.

  * * *

  A letter, redirected from the Pricharts’ farm, found her the next day and recalled her to her responsibilities. Felicity, distressed and anxious for news, demanded to know when Mr. North was returning to Bath.

  Millicent pulled out her traveling writing desk and the bundle of letters Mr. Prichart had given her. On rereading, the late Mr. North's letter was no less disturbing. The ladies living in Bath could not be told by letter of this complication, especially since Millicent could not answer any questions bound to arise from the news.

  Taking her courage in both hands, and simulating Anthony North's scrawl as best she could, Millicent crafted a letter to the late Mr. North's lawyer requesting, if he be so kind, a copy of the draft of the will.

  Knowing lawyers, she enclosed a sovereign under the seal as payment for his labor.

  * * *

  The answe
r to her request came within a month, while she was visiting her partially flooded coal mine, and was as bad as she had expected.

  According to the will of the late Christopher North, his son Anthony was forbidden from selling or gambling away any part of his inheritance. On Anthony's death the listed items he had received from his father were to be passed to his brother, Perceval, just as he had received them. No provision was made for such things as wives or children. None at all.

  Millicent put her copy away and brooded.

  The property of Mr. Anthony North was her responsibility even if she could not use it to provide for her sisters’ futures. For the moment the rents paid for their needs. She must continue as planned, visiting the tenants and collecting the rents. Dowries and annuities would wait for the future. With luck, inspiration might strike before Felicity was ready to marry off her remaining daughters.

  * * *

  The late afternoon sun beat down on the refuse scattered about the inn’s forecourt, raising a foul stench. Millicent ducked gratefully into the shade of the inn’s public room and permitted the maid who appeared from the shadows to take her valise. The innkeeper appeared almost immediately, filling the narrow hall with his bulk. Millicent hoped that boded well for the food in the place since the man was fully as wide as he was tall. The innkeeper bowed, running a hand over his red and sweaty bald head.

  “Good evening,” said Millicent in her deepest voice. “I am Mr. Anthony North. I wrote ahead to reserve a room.”

  This information was greeted with a broad smile.

  “Mister North, indeed you did, sir. Welcome to the Hind and Fox. Jacob Fields, at your service. You are a prodigious popular gentleman, or so my wife informs me. We have several pieces of mail awaiting you. Two of them with fine and complicated crests on the seal. My wife has custody of them at the moment. I shall have them fetched up to your room with your baggage.”