by Joan Smith
“Niece,” Whewett said, wildly, before he remembered that Irene had neither brother nor sister. And if Townsend didn’t know it yet, his mother certainly did. “We are due to meet Miss Farnsworth’s companion in moments. We must dash. Nice seeing you, Townsend. Please give my respects to your mother.”
Townsend placed a detaining hand on his cousin’s arm. “Before you dart off, old chap, Mama will want to know what you are doing here. You know how women like all the details.”
“We are on our way to Wickfield, to see Lady Healy.”
“Are you indeed? I had no idea she was in England. I suppose it is old John Brougham’s death that has brought her. Anything in it for your Augusta?”
“Lady Healy inherited the estate. It will be Augusta’s one day. It is why I am on my way to Willowcrest now.”
“Very wise. Have to butter up the old ones. How does it come Miss Farnsworth travels with you?”
Whewett hesitated an incriminating moment before he could think of a single thing to say. Grace spoke up. “I am going to see Lady Healy, too. With so many questions, you have lost track of the answers, Mr. Townsend. I am related to Lady Healy, too.”
He considered this, then asked baldly, “Where do you live?”
“Here, in Tunbridge Wells,” Whewett said hastily. “It is why I have come a little out of my way from Dover, to pick up Miss Farnsworth.”
“I thought you said she was one of the Exeter Farnsworths,” Townsend said, his smile growing broader as they sank deeper into mire.
“I moved,” Grace said. “I live here with my cousin now, Miss Thomas. We really must go and pick her up, Lord Whewett.”
“Mama will be here any moment. Sure you can’t--”
“No,” Whewett said, and taking Grace’s arm, he fled out into the street, looking sharply about for Mrs. Townsend. She was nowhere in sight. They walked along at a rapid pace, though they had no destination in mind.
“Just how badly disgraced are we?” Grace asked, after they had hurriedly turned a corner off the main street.
“There is no disgrace at all. Merely I am sorry to have subjected you to an inquisition by Townsend and determined his arch-quiz of a mother shan’t get at you.”
“She has trained her son well. He didn’t leave out any questions, did he? He didn’t believe a word of it, you know. Why did you tell him my name? He takes me for a lightskirt, and it is the best thing for him to think, too, but I wish you had called me Miss Jones.”
“Don’t be foolish. Why should he think anything of the sort?”
“As he seems well-acquainted with you, I thought perhaps he knew of your affair with Doll, and likely others as well,” she replied sharply.
Whewett took her elbow and resumed walking at a less harried gait. “Never mind putting it in my dish, miss. It was your rolling eyes at the bigwig and the dandy that gave him the notion you aren’t quite the thing.”
“Is he stupid enough to think I would be making up to them when I had attached such a distinguished patron as Lord Whewett? He must take me for a moonling.”
Whewett turned a rueful eye on his companion. “I come to realize the full odium of comparisons. Am I really a notch above the bigwig?”
Grace gave it careful consideration and said, “Yes, Whewett, and I think you might even be a notch above the dandy.”
His chagrin restored her humor, and they continued their walk.
Chapter Thirteen
Whewett and Grace proceeded without encountering Mrs. Townsend. They were surprised to come upon a rocky, wooded area in its natural state in the midst of a bustling town. “I don’t remember seeing this when I was here with Papa,” Grace exclaimed.
“With luck you may find a duck pond to fall into.”
“You could hold my head under while pretending to rescue me. I know you would like to strangle me, but it is in no way my fault that your cousin chanced along. Look, Whewett, benches. What a pity we did not bring a picnic lunch.”
“I wondered how long we could go without your turning into a ravenous beast.”
“I can hold off another hour. Let us look around.” There was a plaque posted. “Wouldn’t you know it, Queen Henrietta Maria again. She camped here for six weeks in 1630.”
Grace looked around at the not very magnificent surroundings. “One would think a queen could do better for herself. Commandeer a castle or inn. I daresay the town has encroached on her camping ground in the past couple of hundred years.”
They strolled through the park, where sundry elderly people sat on benches, taking the sun or shade as struck their whim. “This is nice,” Grace said. “If I save all my pennies, I can retire to this place when my working days are over.”
The bucolic surroundings put Whewett in a languorous mood. “Have you given up on marrying a widower?” he asked idly.
“I have, and on a theatrical career as well. You were right. I didn’t care for the way your cousin Townsend leered at me. I don’t think I should like being a painted woman.”
Whewett glanced down at her, wearing an enigmatic, small smile. “That is no reason you should give up entirely on your plan of marrying a widower,” he said.
She noticed he did not say a gouty old widower, as they usually described her fictitious groom. It even darted into Grace’s head that it was himself Whewett meant. Some air of consciousness about him suggested it, the way he looked at her so intently. The idea was so preposterous that she soon brushed it away.
“Let’s walk that way,” she said, pointing to the left. “We can climb over those rocks and see what is on the other side.”
Whewett went along in unimpaired humor, enjoying the outing. He usually strove to avoid gossip. Since that episode shortly after his wife’s death when he had had the whole family in an uproar over Doll, he had lived a thoroughly respectable life. But today he didn’t really care if anyone should see him and catch him out in an escapade. He half regretted missing Mrs. Townsend. He needed some excitement. He had grown dull living in the country.
“King of the castle,” Grace announced, when they had reached the summit. “We can survey our domain from here. How very like my Miss Thomas that lady looks,” she mentioned, pointing out a woman in a sun hat, knitting as she sat, occasionally looking at the scenery.
“She also resembles Mrs. Elton.”
“Really? That is not at all how I pictured her.”
“You see how you have wronged me.”
“Wronged you? There is nothing wrong in dangling after an incomparable, so long as your intentions are honorable. Really that could be Miss Thomas. The bonnet is exactly like one she used to wear at home, Whewett. I am going to walk closer and see if it is. We never discovered where she was gone.”
They clambered down the slope. He was sure Grace was seeing what she wanted to see, but when they were within a few yards of the woman, Grace let go of his arm and flew forward, calling, “Miss Thomas, it is you!”
The woman looked up in alarm, stared silently a moment, then held out her arms. Grace rushed into them, hugged her old friend, and sat beside her on the bench with a dozen exclamations of surprise and delight.
Whewett looked on, strangely disappointed. He had been looking forward to this private day with Grace. He knew it was well for her to find her friend, but he wished it could have happened later. He hid his feelings, however, and walked forward to be presented.
To say Miss Thomas was surprised to find herself being made known to Lord Whewett would be understating the case. She knew nothing of him, had never heard his name, but that Grace had fallen into a relationship with a lord certainly amazed the good woman. “How do you do?” she said, too stunned to say more.
“Don’t you think I have become a fallen woman, too, Thomas,” Grace said in vexation. “Lord Whewett is not my beau, appearances to the contrary. I am working for him.”
“I see,” Miss Thomas said weakly, wondering what position she filled that she behaved so freely with her employer. “What sort of work do
you do for Lord Whewett?”
“I pretend I am his daughter.”
Miss Thomas stared, trying to make sense of it. Failing this, she became angry. “Do you indeed, missie? I should not think you fool anyone, unless his lordship was married while still in short coats.”
“You misunderstand, Thomas. It is I who wear short skirts for the job. I dress up as a child and spend my days skipping in the garden and playing with a doll and drinking sour milk.”
“Where do you spend the nights?” Miss Thomas demanded bluntly. She cast an eye full of suspicion on the gentleman, who stood overwhelmed with shame.
“Shame on you,” Grace chided her old friend. “I spend the nights in my room, from eight-thirty onward.” She went on to explain the masquerade, and how it had come about.
“You’ll be fortunate if the pair of you don’t land in Newgate. If you found yourself in a pickle, Grace, why did you not come to me?”
“I was on my way to you. What else would I be doing in Wickfield? Don’t be vexed with me, Thomas. There was no harm in it. You can see what a perfectly honorable gentleman Lord Whewett is. He will be shocked at what you have been hinting. He thinks of me as a very daughter, don’t you, Whewett?”
“I assure you there has been no impropriety,” he told Miss Thomas earnestly.
“I know Grace would not stand still for that, but you must own, her reputation would suffer if this should ever get out.”
“Why should it?” Grace asked. “Lady Healy was with us the whole time. It is not as though we were unchaperoned.’’
“Where is she now?” Miss Thomas asked.
“At Willowcrest, preparing for her return to Scotland. Oh, and the worst thing, Thomas, she wants to take me with her.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me much to hear you plan to go.”
“No, Whewett does not think it a good idea. May I come to you after she leaves, till I find a new position?”
“Certainly. You must,” Thomas answered, with a jealous eye to Whewett.
The impracticability of this scheme was not long in occurring to her. She was visiting an elderly cousin who lived in small quarters, quite retired in Tunbridge Wells. Miss Thomas was at this moment having her one outing of the day, while her cousin slept. The remainder of her day was spent tending the cousin’s sickbed. Really a visit from Grace would be extremely inconvenient.
Grace was familiar enough with her old friend that she knew at once there was some difficulty and was sure enough of Thomas’s regard that she felt the problem to be one of lodgings. “Where is it you are staying?” she asked.
“In an apartment with my cousin, on High Street.”
“How large an apartment?”
“Large enough. You can share a room with me.”
“Yes, of course,” Grace said promptly, but she felt this option was no longer open to her. Bad enough to batten herself on Thomas; she could not do so at the small apartment of a total stranger.
“Give me the address,” she said, for of course she must write and explain to Thomas, whatever decision she ultimately took. Thomas wrote it down for her.
“Let us walk you home now, so that I will know exactly where to come,” Grace suggested.
Miss Thomas was not eager to show Whewett the mean establishment. It might give him the idea Grace had no respectable connections and was poorly protected. “I don’t plan to return for a while yet. This is my daily outing. I usually stay a couple of hours.”
“Come to lunch with us, then,” Grace urged.
“I have lunch with Cousin Marion when I get back. It will be all ready,” she lied.
“How long do you plan to remain at Tunbridge Wells?” was Grace’s next question.
“I’ve let the Wickfield cottage till Christmas. Why do you not stay and chat with me, and let Lord Whewett pick you up later?”
Grace hesitated a moment. “This is our little holiday,” she said. “We came together, you know, and what would Whewett do alone for two hours or so? Besides, we are just on our way to lunch. I am starved.”
“A lady is never starved, Grace,” Thomas scolded. “She may feel a little peckish.”
“Well, I am feeling very peckish.”
“As usual,” Thomas said, shaking her head.
Whewett offered to amuse himself while the ladies had their chat, which did something to raise Thomas’s opinion of him. They all remained together chatting for another half hour. Thomas had to be regaled with the story of Grace’s departure from Bixworths’, and the ubiquitous Mrs. Sempleton.
She noticed during the visit that Whewett regarded Grace with a fond smile seldom seen on the face of any but lovers. Once she took the idea he was in love with her ex-charge, he rapidly became an excellent fellow.
She suggested a short walk, and while Grace took a run ahead to drink from a fountain, Miss Thomas put the time to good use. Whewett was expertly quizzed. Before they parted, she knew all there was to know, including the fact that he was defensive regarding Grace’s part in the masquerade.
Proprietary did not seem too strong a word for his attitude. He spoke of his sister in Ireland, who would like to hire Grace. He also said to Thomas something he had never mentioned to Grace, namely, that Miss Farnsworth should accompany him to Downsfield to await his sister’s arrival. When he inquired obliquely whether she herself would be available to accompany them, Miss Thomas knew he had no intention of doing anything but marrying Grace.
A girl he hoped to see as his niece’s governess had no need of a companion. Miss Thomas had to decline the invitation, but she felt sure he would come up with a replacement for her.
Grace leaned over to give Thomas a last hug before she and Whewett left. Thomas whispered in her ear, “I like your young man excessively. Don’t let him slip through your fingers.”
“Thomas!” she exclaimed. “What are you thinking of?”
Thomas just smiled and nodded her head sagely.
After they had strolled away, Whewett said, “What did she say to startle you?”
Grace felt a warm flush suffuse her cheeks. “She said she thinks you’re very nice.”
“Your reaction is hardly flattering. You seemed utterly astonished that she should approve of me. I must own, I never felt so small in my life. She thought I had been carrying on with you. It is only what anyone would think, I daresay.”
“She may have thought so for a moment. She doesn’t now. Where can we go to eat that we won’t meet Mrs. Townsend?”
“That presents no problem. She pinches every penny till it squeals. We have only to find the most expensive place, and we will be sure to evade her.”
They went to the best inn, where Whewett hired a private parlor. “We have already been found out by my family and what you consider your family, I should think. Any chance Mrs. Bixworth will be visiting the Wells?” he asked.
“After meeting Miss Thomas, I rule nothing out. I must warn you in advance, Whewett, if we do meet her, I plan to introduce you as my fiancé, to watch her stare. How I should love to do it.”
“I am at your service,” he bowed.
“It would serve you right for telling your cousin my real name. Only think if I should run into Townsend again sometime.”
“If it ever happens, surely it will be better for him to call you Miss Farnsworth, unless you plan to become Miss Jones on a permanent basis.”
“That’s true. I might meet him sometime if I work for your sister. How wide-awake one must be when she enters into a life of deceit.” Grace frowned at the pitfalls awaiting her.
“You will want to order a good meal, to keep your strength up. Shall we go whole hog and have champagne? Our one fling,” he urged, “let us live it up.”
“Could we, Whewett?” she asked, eyes glowing.
“Why not?”
“You prefer claret.”
“Today I feel like champagne.”
They drank champagne and talked very foolishly about a great number of things over their dinner. Eventually
, however, they had to discuss less pleasant matters than what Grace would do if she were rich and what Whewett would do if he were king.
“Grandma plans to leave very soon,” Grace mentioned over dessert. “We still have not thought how to tell her I am not going with her.”
“I’ll just have to put my foot down, assert my rights, and say I won’t let you go.”
“She might take it out on Augusta. All our work will have been for nothing.”
“I doubt if she would, but she would certainly take it out on you if you went and she learned the truth.”
With a dismal thought of her future, Grace said, “I half wish I could go.”
“Miss Thomas is expecting you to join her.”
“That’s true,” Grace said with a feeble smile, for of course she could not join Thomas.
“I don’t think you will be comfortable there, Grace,” was his next speech. “Miss Thomas is pretty fully occupied. You would do better to come to Downsfield with me and await Mary’s arrival there.”
“That would put your sister on the spot. She would feel some obligation to hire me, whether she wished it or not. Nothing is more likely to make her dislike me. Besides, how could I go to stay with a widower? It would look very unconventional.”
“I have relatives. I can find someone to chaperon us.”
“So much trouble is not taken for a governess. People would talk. I should think Lord Whewett is discussed a good deal at Dover.”
“I live removed from the town. I trust my past behavior hasn’t made me quite a byword.”
“Ah, the sensitive feelings are bruised again. I wonder if you aren’t part orchid. They fall apart if you look at them.”
“I can’t just leave you at loose ends, Grace. We must find some suitable place for you. Your Thomas is kind, but living with an invalid in a little apartment—I know! I’ll take you to my Aunt Gertrude in Dover.”
“Does she require a companion?” Grace asked with interest.
