by Gayle Buck
“Then surely you must consider Miss Pettiforth ready to enter polite society,” said Verity.
Miss Tibbs smiled. “No, I do not. However, Cecily is grown into a very pretty young miss and she is of a character that will no longer submit to lessons and instruction. She has never possessed a bent for study, but in the last several months that inattention became markedly worse. Cecily gives thought to very little else but fashions and prospective entertainments and her impending come out. It was natural enough, I suppose. However, her continued presence in the schoolroom was proving most disruptive to the education of the younger girls.”
“I see. I gather that Miss Pettiforth is very much like most young misses, then, as they begin to come of age,” said Verity, smiling. After the slightest hesitation, Miss Tibbs agreed to it. Recognizing Miss Tibbs’s reservation, Verity probed a little further. “Mrs. Pettiforth has told me that her daughter is rather high-strung.”
“Perhaps that is a bit of an understatement,” suggested Miss Tibbs.
Verity sent a swift glance at the governess’s bland face. “Oh dear. I suppose that I am in for a rare ride, then. Headstrong and mad for fashions and grown-up society, rather like a scampering puppy that has not been quite housebroken. Well, I am nothing if not resolute. Miss Pettiforth shall be whipped into shape if I have anything to say on the matter. I shan’t allow her to disgrace herself too far.”
“I should perhaps tell you that Mrs. Pettiforth dotes on her eldest daughter,” said Miss Tibbs.
Verity mulled over that piece of information for a moment. She thought that it fit into what she already knew of the lady’s leanings. Mrs. Pettiforth’s favoritism, coupled with the fact that the lady had not really wanted Verity to come into the household, all made for a very interesting situation. She would have to be on her guard, for obviously Miss Tibbs was warning her to tread lightly where Mrs. Pettiforth was concerned. Verity sighed in resignation. “And Mr. Pettiforth?”
“Mr. Pettiforth has a fondness for all of his daughters,” said Miss Tibbs. “I think that you will find him to be a fair man, albeit somewhat retiring. The youngest girl takes most after her father. Rebecca dislikes intensely any sort of ruckus or confrontation.”
“Better and better,” Verity murmured to herself.
Nevertheless, Miss Tibbs heard her. The governess gave a dry little laugh. “Pray do not allow me to put you off, Miss Worth. Indeed, that was not my intention. I only wished you to have your eyes open from the first so that you may avoid the most obvious pitfalls,” she said.
“I am grateful to you, Miss Tibbs. Certainly I can be more confident of how I am to go on, for you have given me some valuable insight,” said Verity.
Miss Tibbs called to her charges. “It is near the quarter hour, girls. You shall have to hurry if you are to tidy yourselves for luncheon.” The governess turned back to say, “I hope that what I have imparted serves you well, Miss Worth. I should dislike to lose you too soon.”
Verity laughed. “Oh, I have no intention of crying uncle, Miss Tibbs. I am not easily intimidated, I do assure you. In any event, I expect to rub along so famously with Miss Pettiforth that we will quickly become great friends.”
Miss Tibbs smiled, a twinkle in her sharp eyes. “I trust that it will chance just as you expect, Miss Worth.”
The girls joined them then and by tacit consent the ladies did not speak any more about Verity’s concerns. The small group turned about and retraced their steps out of the gallery and through the halls. Verity parted company with the governess and the three girls, promising to walk with them again in future.
* * *
Chapter 6
When Verity entered her room and began to tidy up in anticipation of the sounding of the luncheon bell, she had much to reflect on. She liked all whom she had met of the household with the possible exception of Mrs. Pettiforth.
Verity told herself that she should reserve judgment on the lady of the house. Perhaps Mrs. Pettiforth was feeling threatened by having someone thrust upon her. If Verity made an effort to be patient and conciliatory toward Mrs. Pettiforth, it could very well be ironed out to their mutual benefit.
Miss Tibbs had imparted little more about Miss Pettiforth than she had already guessed. Verity remained confident, despite the initial obstacle that Mrs. Pettiforth’s indulgence of her daughter might prove, that she could handle a flighty, society-struck miss well enough.
Indeed, Verity felt so assured of herself that the suspicion crossed her mind that Mr. Pettiforth had extended charity to her in the thin guise of genteel employment. Surely Mrs. Pettiforth could do as well or better in the endeavor to train Miss Pettiforth in the social niceties. She was, after all, the girl’s mother.
Verity concluded that she must speak to Mr. Pettiforth about his over-generosity and persuade the gentleman that it was not necessary that he should manufacture a place for her out of the friendship he had had with her father. She could find a post with someone who truly needed her.
At sound of the bell Verity went downstairs.
When she entered the drawing room, she came unwittingly upon an appalling scene. The Pettiforths were present. The gentleman wore a pained expression, while his spouse expostulated, “Now, Cecily dear! Do calm yourself, I pray!”
Miss Tibbs stood beside the tallest of the girls, Sophronia, that Verity had met not half an hour past. Miss Tibbs’s lips were tightly compressed and her hand rested upon the girl’s stiff shoulder. Sophronia’s face was white.
A furious beauty was facing the governess and the young girl, hurling a veritable stream of scolding at her sister’s head. If she heard her mother’s cajolings she paid no attention to it.
Finally, Mrs. Pettiforth exclaimed, “Sophronia! You will hand over your sister’s shawl at once, if you please. I will not have Cecily’s feelings so lacerated by your insensitivity. I should think that the treat of taking luncheon outside the schoolroom would have imbued you with a greater sense of what is due to your elders.”
Without a word, Sophronia took from her shoulders a Norwich silk shawl and held it out. The beauty snatched it away, exclaiming, “Spiteful, thieving hussy! If there is one snag, miss, you shall answer to me for it! Borrowed it, indeed! I know better! You meant to keep it!”
“I did not! I borrowed it because I could not find my own shawl. I did not think that you would mind so very much, since you told me yourself that you did not care for this one,” Sophronia retorted hotly.
“Sophronia,” murmured Miss Tibbs.
The girl cast up a glance at her governess’s expression. Her cheeks had flushed. “I am sorry, Miss Tibbs! But I cannot stand silent an instant longer and let her rake me down so. She did say that she did not want it.”
“Oh! So you wish to have my castdowns, do you? Well then, take it! The fringes are all knotted. I could not possibly wear it, now that you have ruined it!”
The beauty threw the shawl into her sister’s face and twitched herself about, giving Verity a full view of the young woman’s countenance. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes flashed with high temper. Verity realized with a sinking heart that this catamount was her charge, Miss Cecily Pettiforth.
“Now, Cecily, dearest. Do, pray, consider your manner. A lady does not allow her emotions to overcome her, no matter how great the provocation,” said Mrs. Pettiforth.
“Sophy had no right, Mama. You know that she didn’t,” exclaimed the beauty.
Observing Miss Pettiforth’s enraged expression, Verity revised her opinion. All suspicion that Mr. Pettiforth had sent for her out of pity vanished. She thought rather ruefully that she would earn every last penny of the handsome salary that Mr. Pettiforth was to make to her.
“Enough, Cecily. Here is Miss Worth come to join us,” said Mr. Pettiforth, rising. His countenance had cleared when he saw Verity, but instantly it had become shadowed by embarrassment.
Verity went forward, holding out her hand. She pretended that she had not w
itnessed the painful scene. With a smile, she said, “I am glad to see you again, sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Worth,” said Mr. Pettiforth quietly, obliquely acknowledging her tact,
Mrs. Pettiforth did not rise from her chair to make her greeting. “My dear Verity, how nice that you could join us. We gather quite informally, as you see. This is my daughter, Cecily, whom you have not previously met. Cecily, dearest, this is our cousin. Miss Verity Worth, who has come to lend her experience to you in social matters.”
“How do you do, Miss Pettiforth. I hope that we shall become good friends,” said Verity.
The beauty ignored her as though she had not spoken. Instead she addressed her mother. “I do not need a chaperone to tell me how to go on, Mama. I told you so before.”
“Cecily, Miss Worth is waiting for your bows,” said Mr. Pettiforth.
Miss Pettiforth appeared about to deliver herself of a few choice words, but catching her father’s glance, she apparently thought better of it. She gave a pettish shrug. With elaborate civility and a cold smile, she said, “Miss Worth, I trust that your stay with us will be enjoyable.”
Verity inclined her head, a cool expression in her eyes. “I hope so, too, Miss Pettiforth.”
Mr. Pettiforth directed Verity’s attention then to the others, whom Mrs. Pettiforth had so patently neglected to bring forward. “Miss Worth, this is our second eldest, Sophronia, and her governess, Miss Tibbs.”
Verity gave a warm smile. “Yes, we met earlier and enjoyed a turn about the walking gallery. I look forward to joining you and the girls often for exercise on these dull days, Miss Tibbs.”
“We would be delighted to include you, Miss Worth,” said Miss Tibbs. Beside the governess, Sophronia gave a small smile and nodded. The girl’s color appeared to have returned to normal. The shawl which had been the focus of so much distress was draped elegantly over her shoulders. Verity saw that the girl’s thin fingers unconsciously stroked the smooth silk, causing her to conclude that such luxurious pieces did not often come Sophronia’s way.
“You need not expect me to go walking in the gallery. Such boring stuff! I would not bear it,” said Miss Pettiforth, tossing her head.
Verity turned her gaze on Miss Pettiforth, a glinting of anger in her eyes. Speaking quite civilly, with the hint of sympathy in her expression, she said, “In that case, I am persuaded that we shall do very well without you, Miss Pettiforth. Nothing is so tiresome as to be in the company of one who suffers from fidgets.”
A quick flash of color rushed into Miss Pettiforth’s face. “Fidgets? I do not fidget!”
Verity put up her slim brows. “Is that not what you meant? Forgive me, Miss Pettiforth. I quite misunderstood. Naturally a well-bred lady must not admit to such a failing. Why, nothing is more ruinous to one’s social success than to earn a reputation for freakish starts or an uncertain temper.”
The smile that she bestowed upon the beauty was guileless. Verity noticed out of the corner of her eye that Miss Tibbs was wearing the blandest of expressions, while her charge, Sophronia, stared with a half-agape mouth. Verity turned at once from Miss Pettiforth to remark to Mr. Pettiforth that it was remarkably warm for November. The gentleman had hidden a smile behind his hand by giving a slight cough, but he replied suitably. The assumed gravity of his expression was belied by the twinkle in his eyes.
Mrs. Pettiforth stared at Verity with a rather hard gaze, as though turning something over in her mind. Undecided, she looked at her favorite daughter.
An astonished look had crossed Miss Pettiforth’s face at Verity’s setdown. She stood with uncertainty warring with the tempest in her eyes. Her small hands clenched and unclenched. The uncertainty won. She tossed her head and flounced over to the pianoforte to strike a discordant note.
Mrs. Pettiforth seemed willing to let Verity’s declaration stand without challenge. She surged to her feet. “Mr. Pettiforth, pray let us repair to the dining room for luncheon.”
“As you wish, my dear.” Mr. Pettiforth escorted his spouse out of the drawing room, followed by his eldest daughter and Verity, Miss Tibbs and Sophronia.
Through the meal Verity listened to and watched the interaction of those seated with her at the table. It quickly became obvious that Miss Tibbs had spoken the literal truth about Miss Pettiforth. The girl could talk about nothing except her clothes, her come-out, the treats in store for her, and her future prospects. Mrs. Pettiforth entered into all of these topics with the greatest of interest and encouragement, particularly into speculations about what admirers her daughter might attach during the Season.
Mr. Pettiforth seemed to withdraw himself entirely from the intense discussion, never saying a word for or against any of the delightful notions put forward.
Miss Tibbs succeeded in capturing Mrs. Pettiforth’s attention for a short time to discuss in a general way the progress and needs of the other girls. Miss Pettiforth, growing impatient of any topic that did not relate directly to herself, interrupted her mother and Miss Tibbs. She declared herself bored with all the talk of the schoolroom and her sisters’ progress. “Will you not attend to me, Mama? I need a length of satin ribbon to trim that darling bonnet that I bought last week and which did not look half as well when I got it home. I am persuaded all that it requires is a knot or two of ribbon to look ever so much better.”
“Very well, my love. We shall go into the village this afternoon and look for your ribbon,” said Mrs. Pettiforth indulgently. She turned an inquiring expression on the others. “Have you any commissions for us, Verity? Miss Tibbs?”
“Oh no, Mama! You cannot mean to spend hours traipsing all over looking for someone else when I particularly want you,” objected Miss Pettiforth.
Verity was seated next to Sophronia and so heard what the girl muttered under her breath. “Mean cat!” Verity glanced quickly sideways, but Sophronia held her head lowered so that her expression was hidden.
“I have no immediate needs, Mrs. Pettiforth,” said Miss Tibbs colorlessly.
“Nor I,” said Verity, having on the instant made up her mind to discover what Sophronia would most like to be brought to her from the village. “However, I would be glad to offer my help in hunting down just exactly the shade of ribbon that Miss Pettiforth desires.”
Mr. Pettiforth had looked up, a sharpening in his gaze as he regarded Verity. Miss Tibbs had also glanced across the table with a suddenly thoughtful expression.
“Why, that is most kind of you. Verity,” said Mrs. Pettiforth, pleased. “Is it not, Cecily?”
Miss Pettiforth did not appear to be gratified. Instead, she cast a glance of loathing at Verity. “Yes, Mama, to be sure it is. But Miss Worth need not accompany us if she does not really wish to do so. Besides, she would have to sit with her back to the horses and I am persuaded that she would dislike it.”
Verity was amused by Miss Pettiforth’s blatant attempt to fob her off. It won’t be so simple as that, my girl, she thought. I have agreed to take you on and so I shall. She therefore said, “I shan’t mind it in the least. The horses, I mean. And I am curious to discover what the shops in the village have to offer.”
“You will be pleasantly surprised, no doubt. We cannot boast London quality, of course, but we do very well for ourselves nevertheless,” said Mrs. Pettiforth.
Miss Pettiforth was effectively left with nothing more to say against including Verity in the outing. She did manage to express her displeasure, however, by saying sweetly, “I do hope that you do not mean to drag us all about, Miss Worth. Waiting upon another’s self-interest is what I particularly dislike.”
“Oh yes, I have very few doubts on that head,” said Verity dryly. “Pray do not give it another thought, Miss Pettiforth.” She steadily returned the beauty’s glare and was satisfied when the younger woman turned away first.
As luncheon concluded, Verity rose with the others from the table. Mrs. Pettiforth and Miss Pettiforth were once more deep in discussion o
ver various fashion matters and, as Verity made to follow them out of the dining room, Mr. Pettiforth stopped her with a word. Waiting until Miss Tibbs and Sophronia had exited, Mr. Pettiforth said, “You have rattled in in fine style, Miss Worth. I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, sir. My only hope is that I can withstand the heat,” said Verity with a rueful expression.
“Oh, I have every confidence in you, Miss Worth,” said Mr. Pettiforth, smiling. He waited for her to proceed him through the door and took his leave.
Verity hurried up the stairs and caught up with Miss Tibbs and Sophronia on the landing. “Miss Tibbs! I wished to inquire whether there were any errands that I might discharge on your behalf while I am in the village,” she said.
Miss Tibbs smiled. Her eyes held a decided twinkle. “Thank you, Miss Worth. That is most kind of you. As a matter of fact, there are a few articles for the schoolroom that I would like to acquire. I shall write out a list and have it, and the funds for you, if you would come to the schoolroom in a few minutes.”
Verity agreed to this and then inquired of Sophronia what she would like from the village. The girl flushed up to her hair and stammered that she really required nothing. Verity smiled. “Never mind, I suspect that I might discover something that you and your sisters might like.”
“Thank you, Miss Worth!” exclaimed Sophronia. She went quickly away, quite overcome.
“You have done a kind thing in that direction,” observed Miss Tibbs.
“I dislike bullying of any sort,” said Verity quietly. She met the governess’s eyes and she knew that they were both thinking of the appalling scene that had taken place in the drawing room. “I must hurry off now or I shall be accused of keeping Miss Pettiforth waiting.”
Miss Tibbs was surprised by her own deep chuckle. “Yes, I rather think you might.”
Verity returned to her bedroom to freshen up and to put on a bonnet and a walking pelisse. When she was ready, she retrieved Miss Tibbs’s list, and returned downstairs, to find that the Pettiforth ladies had just that moment stepped into the hall. The carriage was at the front door and the ladies climbed up into it. Verity seated herself with her back to the horses. The carriage rattled away, carrying the trio on the shopping expedition.
