Miss Mouse

by Mira Stables

  The uncomplicated Dominic saw nothing strange in the request. “Of course, ma’am. I quite understand,” he was telling her, as Graine came into the room dressed for the journey.

  They were so fortunate as to find his lordship at home and free to receive them immediately, a little surprised at this unexpected visit but friendly and welcoming. He had, in fact, been toying with the notion of paying his sister a visit at the end of the week and contemplating with some dismay the difficulties that would stand in the way of getting Graine to himself for even a few minutes during such a visit. This unheralded arrival struck him as clear evidence of the intervention of providence. It must be put to good use.

  He listened attentively while Dominic explained the reason for their visit and shyly apologised for taking up his time.

  “It was at Lady Elizabeth’s suggestion that we came to consult you,” he finished. “She even lent us her own carriage. She was sure that you would know just what I should do. What do you think, sir? Ought I to accept Mr Sutcliffe’s offer?”

  The Earl shook his head. “It is not a matter to be decided lightly,” he said soberly. “A man’s work is the most important thing in his life. It should be chosen carefully, with a view to making the best use of his talents and abilities. Do you think that such work as Mr Sutcliffe offers you will do that?”

  Dominic looked solemn. “I don’t think I have any particular talents,” he said ruefully. “I’m not above average clever with my books, but Mr Sutcliffe said that wouldn’t matter so long as I could remember what I was shown. I can do that, I think. And he was very keen about honesty and industry. I don’t know so much about those because I’ve never been tested very high. I’m honest, I hope. But it might not be so easy to stick to one’s work industriously in a climate like Calcutta’s.”

  “An answer that seems to allay any doubts I might have felt about your honesty,” returned the Earl drily. “Look, Dominic. Leave it with me for a day or two. I would like to take more time to think about it. As you say, it is an excellent opening for the right stamp of lad, but somehow I don’t quite see you wearing out an office stool for the next ten or fifteen years. Something more active, I should have thought.”

  Dominic sighed. “Uncle Everard thinks I should accept,” he confessed. “He says I can go on living with him, as it will be quite convenient for the City.”

  “That is very obliging of him,” said his lordship. “But while I hold him in considerable respect for his scholarship, he is what I would describe as an indoor man. I doubt if he understands your leaning to an active open air occupation, which I feel to be more in your line than office work. But as I said, it is an important decision and not one to be hurried. Let me see if I can come up with any alternative suggestion before you make up your mind.”

  Dominic was very willing. He turned to the delicate business of ensuring that the Earl had a chance of discussing the business privately with his sister, as Lady Elizabeth had suggested. On the journey to Valminster he had debated and rejected half a dozen excuses for leaving the pair alone, and had been almost in despair of achieving anything credible when it suddenly struck him that he had a perfectly legitimate and truthful reason. When he had gone back to school after the holiday, Mrs Palmer had presented him with a large plum cake with which to allay the pangs of hunger created by too much study. She would like to hear about the feast that he had shared with his cronies, and to know how much the fellows had enjoyed her bounty. This he now explained to his host, asking if he might run up to the housekeeper’s room and tell her about it.

  “By all means,” returned his lordship, with perhaps rather more enthusiasm than the simple suggestion merited. “And you might ask her to order some refreshment for you and your sister before you set out for Town. Something fairly substantial, tell her, because I doubt if you will get home in time for dinner.”

  Dominic went off, and Grain thought wistfully how beguiling it was to have someone care for one’s simple comforts as his lordship did. How many men, she wondered would know or care that a guest might miss his dinner through the vicissitudes of travel?

  She was roused from this sentimental reverie by his lordship’s voice announcing quietly, “I am glad to have this opportunity of private speech with you, Miss Ashley. I have a matter of considerable importance to discuss.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Graine waited expectantly, supposing that his lordship had some helpful suggestion to make with regard to Dominic’s future. Instead he said slowly, “I had meant to seek an interview with you at my sister’s house, but it occurs to me that there might be some difficulty in obtaining a measure of privacy, and I would not wish to embarrass you by displaying such particularity. So with your permission I will say what I have to say here and now, despite the fact that I once pledged you my word that you need not fear to be made the object of my attentions while you remained under my roof. At least you are no longer residing here, so I hold myself excused. And I do not ask for your answer immediately, only that you will hear me out patiently while we are alone. Then you may consider my plea at your leisure.”

  He fell silent a moment, wondering how best to put his case. Graine regarded him with startled eyes, the dawning of a great fear in her heart. Surely, oh, surely he was not going to make her an improper proposal. Yet that was what his words indicated.

  She was a modest creature, Graine Ashley, and the vicissitudes of her working life had done nothing to foster any sense of her own importance. Even in dreams it had never entered her head that his lordship might fall so deep in love with her that he would offer her marriage. Acknowledging her own love for him, she also acknowledged its hopelessness, and the strenuous efforts that she had made of late to put the very thought of him out of her mind had only served to stiffen this attitude. There could be no honourable connection between them, so she must forget him. That he should think her the kind of girl who would consent to a clandestine liaison was a cruel blow. Her hands clenched involuntarily to contain the pain of it. She heard his words as through from a distance. This was not the man she had learned to love. That man would have known that such a suggestion could only hurt and insult her.

  The quiet voice reached her in mid-phrase.

  “– that ridiculous masquerade, Miss Mouse. Even then you had won a place in my heart, though my promise obliged me to preserve an indifferent front. I find you completely adorable. So many little things. The way you wrinkle your nose when you are about to score a subtle hit; the droop of your lips in sympathy with some childish grief among your charges. I could go on for an age, but time presses. Perhaps some day I may be permitted to tell you all the ways in which I find you desirable, and essential to my happiness. Indeed I do not know how I shall go on without you if you decline my offer. Which is why I will not press you for an immediate answer. It is my hope that you are not entirely indifferent to me, and that when you search your heart you may even find it possible to return the feeling that I have for you. I cannot help thinking that the way in which you guarded my interests while I was in Copenhagen and the support and advice that you gave so generously after my return are indications that encourage me to hope.”

  He studied her face, his eyes eager, his manner diffident. There was no response. He sighed, and continued, “At the same time, it is your happiness that I desire above everything and I am only too well aware that a closer relationship between us is fraught with certain difficulties.”

  For a moment he thought of mentioning the disparity in age. But she probably knew of it already and why should he argue against his own cause? Instead he said temperately, “On the other hand I can offer several advantages. You would have a life of comfort and consideration. No more need to earn your bread in servitude. What would doubtless weigh more with you, you would be able to help Dominic to the kind of occupation that will suit him very much better than a clerk’s stool, and possibly to forward the interests of your other brothers.”

  He put forward these arguments in all humil
ity, trusting that his established position, the influence that he could wield, might in some sort off-set that fatal difference in age. Graine found it unbearable. That he should calmly list the advantages attached to the loss of her virtue! Did he really believe that either Dominic or his brothers would be content to profit by her descent into the muslin company? Or, indeed, that she herself would consider such a situation as anything other than velvet-cushioned servitude of the most degrading kind.

  Once again the Earl studied the set little face with anxious eyes. He could detect no signs of thaw, but at least he knew better than to offer further inducements that savoured of bribery. He said soberly, “You need not be thinking that you would be obliged to lead an idle fashionable life with nothing useful to do. I know you well enough to realise that such an existence would not content you. The wives and families of my people would welcome your concern as they did during my absence. There would be plenty to interest and occupy you.”

  If she had not been personally involved, Graine could have laughed in his face. In some ways men were impossibly obtuse. Only too well she could picture the reactions of respectable tenants’ wives if the Earl’s mistress should presume to interest herself in their affairs!

  Seeing the first flicker of feeling on that composed little face, his lordship wondered if he dared venture to mention the possibility of a family of their own. He decided against it. It was too soon to speak of such intimate matters. Besides, he thought it likely that for the moment Graine had had her fill of children – other people’s – and in any case he could hear Dominic clattering down the staircase. The interlude of privacy was over.

  Graine never knew how she got through the rest of the visit. A rigid training in social responsibilities stood her in good stead. Somehow she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of the delicious meal that Mrs Palmer sent up to them, took a mechanical part in the conversation that accompanied it. The chaos of her thoughts could not be sifted here. She must have solitude. Meanwhile there were correct observances to be remembered, and Dominic’s feelings, already strained by the exigencies of his own situation.

  Valiantly she played her part, conversed, smiled, acknowledged, drew her brother into various discussions with only the haziest idea as to what they were about, and finally sank thankfully into Lady Elizabeth’s carriage for the return to Town with his lordship’s valediction ringing in her ears.

  “I shall look forward to seeing you next Sunday.”

  The meeting loomed enormous and terrifying in her imagination. She would have to give him her answer. It must be refusal, of course, but how could she phrase it so as to hurt him as little as possible? However outrageous his suggestion, she still loved him, could not endure the thought of inflicting pain. Obviously he would be disappointed, but no more so, she told herself, than a child denied a coveted toy. Soon his fancy would light on some other female who might prove more amenable. He might even choose a bride. That, she discovered, was a thought that she did not care to contemplate for long. She remembered those comfortable tea parties in the schoolroom at Valminster, and wished, foolishly, that she had been born a great heiress; one who might be thought a fitting bride for Valminster’s lord. Because he loved her in his way. He had spoken quietly enough, had made no impassioned declarations, yet the sincerity of the appeal had tugged at her heart so that it would be difficult to deny him. For a moment she turned coward. Why should she not accept Mr Hughes’s invitation to visit his mother on Sunday? But she dismissed the idea even as it entered her head. It would be unfair to use that pleasant young man as a shield, besides possibly arousing quite unfounded hopes in his heart. She even thought of asking if she might go and visit Bridie, but that idea, too, was dismissed. What was the good of evading the issue? Sooner or later it would have to be faced. The thing to do was to concentrate on the choice of courteous phrases in which to decline his lordship’s offer.

  The difficulty was that there were no such words. Even in a haphazard establishment like the Ashley’s, the education of a young lady had included the learning by heart of the correct phrases in which to accept or reject a proposal of marriage. But very naturally, methods of dealing with the offer of a carte blanche had not been thought necessary. It did not take Graine long to decide that there was no tactful way of doing it. What shocked her deeply was the discovery that, despite the strict moral code in which she had been reared, despite her own initial revulsion, her refusal was less than wholehearted. There was never any doubt that she would refuse, but some small rebellious part of her inmost being clamoured to bestow upon her love any comfort or happiness that was within her gift. If she had been quite alone in the world she might even have yielded to his lordship’s persuasions. But there were her brothers and Bridie and even the small new Jonathon. All of them would be slurred by her disgrace, suffer from a scandal that would rock Society, and all of them totally innocent and helpless to avert it. She could not bring herself to plunge them all into social disaster for her own selfish gratification.

  Once again she wondered desolately why circumstance had not chosen to make her a fitting bride for his lordship, and then realised suddenly that even that would not have satisfied her. She wanted him to love her – yes. But not because she was suitable. He must love her as she loved him – helplessly, desperately, despite her best endeavours and regardless of suitability. She decided that it was impossible to rehearse the shattering scene that might develop on Sunday. She need remember only two things. To be as calm and courteous as possible and to persist in saying no. The rest would depend upon his lordship. Meanwhile one had to go on living with some appearance of normality. She shook up her pillow, thumped it into a different shape, and settled herself for a night of restless slumber much haunted by dreams.

  Once again work was her best solace. When she was with the children their demands obliged her to concentrate on them. For a little while she could push aside the thought of the difficult interview that lay ahead of her. When she was alone it was not so easy. She tried to plan for her future. It was manifestly impossible for her to remain in Lady Elizabeth’s service once she had given Lord Valminster his congé. In comparison with a broken heart that was a minor sorrow, but it was still a sorrow, for she was sincerely attached to the children and to Beatrice, and warmly appreciative of Lady Elizabeth’s kindness and consideration. Perhaps her heart was not broken after all, she thought wryly, for the vestige of a sense of humour still remained. Perhaps she was just in that mood of disenchantment with the world that had caused the mediaeval maiden to betake herself to a nunnery. In modern times one could scarcely do that, but a ladies’ seminary would provide a very good substitute. No time there to repine for a lost dream of love. Her own old governess now ran a very select establishment in Bath. She would write to Miss Lavery forthwith and enquire if she had a vacancy for a junior governess.

  Sunday came, inevitably. She went to church with the children, but for once she took little comfort from the peaceful rhythm of the service. They walked home through the Park, but she was nervous and distracted so that Adam and Bridget stared at her curiously when she returned absent-minded answers to their queries about the ducks on the pond. The children took luncheon with their parents, since for once there were no visitors. It was a pleasantly informal meal, but Graine had no appetite. Lady Elizabeth commented on this, asking kindly if she was over-tired or had the headache, and suggesting that she lie down on her bed for an hour. Graine thanked her but declined. Sooner or later she must face his lordship. It had better be sooner.

  His lordship, for his part, had decided that it was time to be done with roundaboutation. Having duly greeted his sister and enquired after Sir John’s progress, he abandoned manoeuvre and told his sister quite bluntly the purpose of his visit, requesting the favour of half an hour’s private conversation with Miss Ashley. Her patent delight in his intention was pleasing, though he did not share her cheerful confidence in a happy outcome. He had not been unaware of Graine’s lack of response to his ove
rtures. To be sure he had said that he would not press for an immediate answer; that she should have time to consider well before committing herself. But if she had been deep in love with him she would not have availed herself of this opportunity. She would have flung herself into his eager arms there and then. The best he could hope for was that further consideration would have given weight to the advantages that he could offer, and that was cold comfort for a man in his state. By the time that Graine came to him in the Ladies’ Parlour, he was quite as tense and nervous as she was, though he had himself well in hand and greeted her with his usual grave courtesy.

  Presumably she responded adequately, though she could not afterwards have told any interested party what either of them had said. There was a brief pause while they regarded each other steadily and each took a deep breath. The ridiculous thought flashed across his lordship’s mind that they were more like two duellists awaiting the drop of the handkerchief than a pair of lovers on the brink of a happy dénouement. His heart sank as he noted Graine’s wary expression, but he would not draw back now. He put out a hand and took her cold fingers in his, bowing low over them, though he did not kiss them as he would have liked to do. He would usurp no privileges until she granted him the right to them.

  “Have you an answer for me, Miss Ashley,” he said.

  Graine’s head went up proudly. “I have, sir,” she answered steadily. “If it causes you chagrin I am sorry for it, but my answer is no.”

  He had been in part prepared for her refusal, but the manner of it took him aback. He had always been given to understand that young ladies invariably treated an offer of marriage as a compliment, even if the suitor was totally ineligible or simply not just to their liking. To receive a blunt ‘no’ from the usually gentle-mannered Graine, without any soothing remarks about the honour he had done her and her regret at being obliged to tell him that she felt they would not suit, was so unusual as to arouse his suspicions. Something was wrong. Perhaps she had heard some story about him that had displeased her. His lordship, at the age of seven and thirty, was no Galahad. In his salad days he had enjoyed various light affairs with damsels of even lighter virtue. But that was years ago. Surely a sensible girl like Graine Ashley would not hold that against him? For the rest, he hoped he was as decent a fellow as the next man, fair dealing to the best of his ability, generous when his heart was touched. Possibly someone had maligned him. Certainly the matter would bear investigation. That curt ‘no’ was like a slap in the face, but his lordship was not a man to give up at the first rebuff. He did not wish to distress the child, but there was a life-time’s happiness at stake and he would venture to probe a little further.