The concern under Miss Cherwood’s rallying tone reached Jane as nothing else would have. The first of a new flood of tears stood in her eyes and she choked out: “I hate men. They’re all stupid and selfish, and — and men.” This was apparently the worst imprecation she could summon, and having spewed it forth she burst splendidly into tears and found herself weeping noisily on Rowena’s shoulders.
Miss Cherwood took this all with equanimity, producing a handkerchief she had provided for the occasion, and mopped Miss Ambercot’s eyes while clucking comforting noises in her ear. At last, when both women were about equally damp, Jane found words to explain her distress.
“It was that odious man, the doctor’s helper —”
“Greavesey?” Rowena lifted an eloquent eyebrow in amazement. “He was busy today, wasn’t he?”
“I was sitting in the shade, waiting for Jack and he — not Jack, your odious Mr. Greavesey — he came by and I said hello. I swear, that is the only thing that I said to him, and I wish I had never been so civil in all my life! And what must he do but stand there, holding my hand — and a deuced lot it hurt, too, with him squeezing it! — and talking of how no one could spare a thought for poor John Greavesey! And feeling very sorry for himself too, I can tell you, and telling me how charming I was. I tell you, Renna, I have never been so eager to kill anyone in my life, only then I felt sorry for him, he was such a detestable little man. And babbling of tea and refreshments to his soul — have you ever heard anything so abundantly stupid in your life? No — I beg your pardon. I was the one who brought up the tea. But it was only because I thought that perhaps that way he would let my hand go — to come in for some tea. And perhaps then I could have asked you and Drummey to have him locked up safely until he could be sent to Bedlam!”
“When was this?” Rowena asked suspiciously.
“Not long after we returned from our walk. I suppose he must have just left you, and he was —”
“A trifle perturbed?” Rowena suggested mildly. “This all seems to be my fault, after all. Well, then, let’s have the rest of it. What finished this little tête-à-tête in the garden?”
“Now you sound like Jack.” Miss Ambercot said in tones of loathing. “It was not a tête-à-tête, and that stupid idiotish man —”
“I apologize. But what did Jack say?” Rowena pressed.
“He came upon us just as, I think, I was prevailing upon Mr. Greavesey to let go of my hand and come indoors. He immediately accused me of flirting with that odious undertaker of a man, and stood there glaring at me as if I were the Fallen Woman of Babylon! And adverting to — well, an earlier time when we...”
“I know the whole of it, Jane. But he thought that you had set up the flirtation yourself? Lord, then this really is my fault. You see, just before he met with you, Greavesey had been making his proposals to me. And there simply is no way to tell such a man as he is No without insulting him. And if you do not insult him, he thinks you are being coy and maidenly — yes, he even used those words. Can you credit it?”
“And from romancing you he came upon me and —”
“It would seem he was in search of solace. Well, at least I can explain that to Jack and —”
Jane sat bolt upright again. “No you will not! Don’t you dare. Rowena, I don’t want anything to do with that man, and I forbid you to waste your breath in trying to explain anything to him.”
“I was only proposing that I waste my breath because he is quite spoiling everyone’s dinner — sulking and pouting in the most alarming way. It would be a kindness to Lady Bradwell, you know.”
“I tried,” Jane said with the simplicity of the wronged. “I tried to explain to him, and do you know what he did?”
“Blamed you for blaming him when he had his flirtation with the other female years ago, and compared the two instances,” Rowena stated matter-of-factly.
“How did you know?”
“My dear, can you conceive of anything more obvious? It is the perfect connection for an aggrieved gentleman to make. Not only that, but I’ll wager that by now, aside from the monstrous fine sense of ill use which he is nourishing in his breast, Lord Bradwell has very little thought for anything but how he can apologize to you for being unjust.”
“Then he may nurse that for all he is worth,” Jane announced solidly.
Rowena was silent.
“I want nothing to do with him.”
Still Rowena kept her tongue.
“Renna, what would you do?”
“That depends, of course, on whether or not you truly never wish to see him again,” she said consideringly. “I imagine that if I truly loved him, despite the fact that he had been abominably stupid, I would tell him what happened, enlist any others — such as myself — who could corroborate my story, and remind him when I was done that I cared for him. And then — but this is the hardest part — wait and see if he is truly a stupid, loathsome, horrid man, or merely human. If he’s human, I believe he would eventually see reason.”
“But why should I apologize to him? I’m telling the truth, aren’t I?” Jane’s voice shook with exhaustion and irritation.
“Of course you are, so you can afford to be a little generous. When he realizes that he has done you an injustice, he will likely be extremely penitent. But do you think it’s worth it to lose him over a matter of pride, Jane?”
This sobering thought evidently carried some weight. “No, I suppose not.”
“Do you wish me to talk with him? Explain what was what with Greavesey this afternoon?”
No words, but a mute nod of the head signified Miss Ambercot’s wishes.
“Very well, then, I suggest that you go to bed now. All this untamed emotion is very tiring, and I wish you will remember that you are only lately up from the sickroom.”
“Very well, Renna.”
And Miss Cherwood, conscious of a certain exhaustion herself, retired to her own rooms to think of the coming confrontation with Jack Bradwell.
o0o
She had planned to corner him in the office the next day, or very possibly in the stables, and had spent a good part of her dressing-and-washing thoughts on planning speeches to make to him. Instead, he took her unawares by descending earlier than usual to breakfast. He was there, tearing savagely at a beefsteak and drinking ale and coffee (thankfully from different vessels). He barely acknowledged her greeting. Lyn Bradwell, also in the midst of his breakfast, smiled warmly at her, cocked his head in his brother’s direction as if to say “No luck here,” and offered her the teapot. She was trying to frame a way to introduce the topic of Miss Ambercot into the conversation, but needn’t have bothered: Lord Bradwell introduced the subject himself.
“How much longer can we expect to have Miss Ambercot in the house?” he asked in a deadened voice.
“Why, I think that is as much your mamma’s decision as anyone’s, sir. She only stayed to keep my cousin company and —” But it would not be good tactics, at least at this point, to remind the gentleman that he had specifically asked that Jane extend her stay. Lord Bradwell returned his attention to his steak, and Lyn’s look conveyed his sympathy at her rout. Rowena tried another tactic.
“I wish one of you gentlemen might have a word with Dr. Cribbatt about his man Greavesey,” she began calmly. Lord Bradwell’s head came up and he glared at her. Rowena continued unheedingly. “That man — I don’t know what to say of him! Yesterday afternoon he suddenly burst into a string of romantic nonsense and asked me to marry him!”
Both the Bradwell men looked ready to swallow their spoons in surprise.
“He did what?” choked Jack, and: “That funereal beanpole!” Lyn exploded.
“The same. I tell you, he was not easily dissuaded, despite the fact that I had given him no encouragement, and he left me in such a state that I truly wondered what he would do when he was gone! If looks could kill, I should be laid out in the chapel at this moment.”
“Jane told you to say this,” Lord Bradwell br
oke in angrily. “By God, why should I believe —”
“What has Jane to say to this? Why, did he disturb her peace too? Poor child, and she only now recovering her health. If I had had to talk to the man for another five minutes together, I think I would have hit him.”
“Excuse me.” Lord Bradwell arose from table and stalked out. Rowena had a moment’s doubt as to the success of her strategy, but put her trust in the man’s innate generosity, his love for Jane, and his deep lack of real imagination. Sooner or later, she was sure, the image of Greavesey pressing his company on Jane would overshadow, by its mere plausibility, the ridiculous fantasy of Jane enticing the spindly, lachrymose physician. After all, Rowena thought as she poured another cup of tea, what man would willingly believe that he and Greavesey were in the same class?
“May I have the scones, please?” she asked the remaining Bradwell politely. “You know, all this emotion makes one dreadfully hungry.”
“Yes, it does rather.” he agreed.
She offered him the plate.
o0o
What exactly passed between Jane Ambercot and John, Lord Bradwell is unknown, for neither one would tell any part of the story to anyone else. Margaret and Rowena both heard raised voices coming from Jane’s sitting room, but neither interfered. And early in the afternoon, Lady Bradwell swept triumphantly into the office, cast her blue spectacles from her in an excess of glee, and announced the betrothal of her elder son and Miss Ambercot.
“Well, that’s a mercy,” said Rowena.
“Isn’t it?” Lady Bradwell sighed and settled herself comfortably on the edge of a chair. “After all the years of work I put into the two of them, and then you are here not six months and they are engaged again! Renna, I believe I was right about you after all.”
“That I’m a matchmaker, Lady B? Never say it, I beg you. I hate to see my friends miserable, it’s true, and will go to some lengths to prevent it, but as for seeking out matches —”
“You may be as pragmatic as you like,” Lady Bradwell shook her head and continued loftily. “I am delighted, and — O, Lyn, Lyn!” She waved a kerchief madly at the window, and Lyndon Bradwell’s retreating figure stopped, turned around, and came quickly up the garden path to the door.
“Hullo, Mother. Miss Cherwood. What’s to do, ma’am? And ought you to be so much in a flutter?”
“I shall be anything I like, boy, and you recall that I knew you in your diapers!”
“And before, no doubt. Mamma, what is the cause of this jubilation?”
“Rowena has done it! Jack finally stopped being a pudding head and has asked for Jane, and they’re betrothed again.”
“I had very little to do with it,” Rowena insisted. “They’d have quit the quarrel very shortly, I’m sure. I only hate seeing Friday-faces about the house.”
“A laudable sentiment, I’m sure. And I’m delighted too. But ought you to be prancing about in the sunlight, ma’am?”
“You are determined to be disagreeable and send me back into the darkness when I haven’t the least wish to do so. Very well, I shall go, but I will be down for dinner, and Jack will make a formal announcement of the betrothal. And about time, too.” Lady Bradwell finished defiantly. “Remains only you, Lyn.”
“It does look that way,” he agreed, and held the door for her.
“Well,” Bradwell began as he watched his mother climb the stairs. “Happy endings seem to be the vogue. If Mamma appears at dinner to tell us that she and Dr. Cribbatt have decided to make a match of it, I shall not turn an eyelash.”
“Disgustingly sentimental, an’t it?” Rowena returned to her desk.
“Disgraceful. I begin to feel very old and sensible, and shall no doubt spend the entire evening wandering through the halls murmuring ‘Bless you my children’ to all and any I meet.”
“Well, the choice of words is yours. You probably could go about muttering in Spanish, or Russian, or gibberish for all of that, and I am sure your blessing would be gratefully received.”
“In that case, I shall by all means try gibberish.” He closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. Rowena, who had been working at the desk when Lady Bradwell had entered to make her announcement, regarded him with some surprise. Of course, he had been on his way somewhere when Lady Bradwell had hailed him, and he intended to go out again through the garden door. “Don’t you find this bridal air a trifle fatiguing?” he asked, settling on the edge of the chair his mother had briefly occupied, and fiddling with a bit of pillow fringe.
“If you mean, shall I play the maiden aunt to match your depressing paternalism, the answer is no. I refuse to do.”
“Refuse?”
“I shall certainly be an aunt soon enough, if the look in Lully’s eye — and Meggy’s too! — means anything. So I refuse to rush the season. When the time comes, I hope I will make an admirable aunt, dispensing favors with sweets and affection in about equal proportion. Until that time, I am not going to let myself feel maternal toward a group of people nearly my own age — or in your brother’s case, older. In fact, the thought that you feel like Lord Bradwell’s father — or uncle or whatever — is far and away the most Sophoclesian thing I have ever heard.” Conscious of the fact that she was, to her own ears at least, running on absurdly, Rowena stopped abruptly.
Lyn seemed to consider this. “It would be a dreadful waste, you know.”
Rowena made of that what she could.
“Meg and Ulysses? I had hoped that you wouldn’t feel that way; you know you would not have suited each other. Not that that makes a difference when one has a tendre —”
“That wasn’t what I meant, Rowena.”
With his use of her name the atmosphere in the room changed from the light-headed froth of Rowena’s teasing to something unsettled and decidedly disturbing. She found that her heart was beating rather erratically.
“You of all people shouldn’t dwindle to maiden aunt. Not that you’d dwindle, of course. And you’d certainly make an admirable aunt, almost as admirable as you’d make a mother. And that, almost as admirable as the wife you’d make.”
“What a pity there weren’t more men of your opinion when I appeared in London last,” Rowena said, attempting a lightness that she was far from feeling. She had left the desk and stood now by the bookcase, aimlessly running her eyes over the shelves.
“Some people don’t know quality when they see it,” he began lightly. Stopped. Seemed to have come to a decision. “Rowena, I don’t want to go through the same charades that Jack and Ulysses have been through in these last weeks. I keep feeling there must be a better way to ask —” He looked at her, a look strong enough to gather her startled attention from the books, from the window, from any other object in the room, and fix it firmly on his face. “Marry me, Rowena?”
With what seemed like immense effort she smiled. “Mr. Bradwell, this is so sudden.” Her voice was dry, her smile unconvincing. More firmly she managed to say: “Lyn, are you simply trying to keep in step with the matrimonial air of the household? Jack and Jane —”
“To hell with my brother and Jane,” he said succinctly.
“Or is it because of Meg? I really don’t fancy being someone’s justification, or solace, or whatever —”
“What about my wife? It’s all I asked of you. And you would do me a great kindness if you would disabuse yourself of the notion that just because your cousin is a pretty chit and I have an appreciative eye — yes, I’ll tell you that now, for you’d best adjust to it! — that I was madly in love with her.”
“It’s just a little — a little sudden.” She chuckled weakly. “What a damnable missish thing to say!”
“I’ve been home for six weeks, Renna, and every moment I’ve been learning about you from your cousin, from my mother — Good God, do you think I propose to every female I meet?”
“If this weren’t entirely out of your mother’s style I would say that she had concocted the whole thing out of piece cloth. She has been det
ermined to marry me off since I arrived, and pressing me to make a match for you and — I know not with whom.”
“Mamma is wiser than she seems sometimes. Won’t you even consider it, Renna? Can’t I appeal even to the sense in you? Do you truly wish for nothing more than a future as a maiden aunt-companion? If you do — but you cannot. If you will consider my suit for no other reason —”
“Do you think you are being kindly to a lost soul doomed to unhappy maidenhood? I beg to inform you that I do very well as I am, and have no need to be protected from a life of genteel poverty!” she said hotly, then realized that Lyn might well be completely unaware of her wealth. No matter, she thought. I can tell him later. If there is a later.
“Damn. I make it worse and worse. Renna, believe me: I don’t mean to make such a mull of this. I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before. And I don’t expect to do so again. I admit I’m not very polished at it, but I’d not meant to make such a horse’s —”
It was too much; she began to chuckle. “Spare my blushes, please! I do not mean to be so difficult, Lyn. It’s just that —” Her voice dropped rather unsteadily. “It’s just that, of all the things I have wanted to hear in the last few weeks, this is the one I thought I never would.”
He took a step closer. “If it will convince you that I am perfectly and entirely serious, Rowena my very dear love, I shall be more graceless still.” Without giving her time to reply, he pulled her away from the bookcase and into his arms, looking down from his surprising height at her confusion.
After a moment Rowena managed, with a very notable attempt at composure, “I suppose you had better kiss me, Lyn, for if you do not I shall kiss you, and complete the destruction of my reputation entirely.”
So he bent his head: just a little way. It was a tentative, smiling sort of kiss. The second one was something more, breathless and fiery, and both of them were blushing and a little startled when it was through.
Five minutes later, seated together on the sofa, they began to talk rationally again.
Madeleine Robins Page 10
