An Improper Companion

by April Kihlstrom

  The dismay was evident in his voice. I was beginning to like my husband’s nephew. Yet it was curious. In that, our first meeting, I felt the elder, though I knew in years I was the younger. “Won’t you tell me your name?” I asked.

  He flushed. “Philip. Philip Gainesfield.” He began to regain his composure. “Of course, I ought to be at the university at the moment. But when Mother heard of your marriage, she said I ought to come pay my respects. I had no notion my uncle had married someone so, well, like you!”

  “I’m sorry I disrupted your studies,” I said with some amusement.

  Philip shifted uneasily, “Not your fault! Anyway, glad of an excuse for a vacation.”

  I smiled in sympathy. I was too soon out of the schoolroom not to understand how Philip felt. “Well, shall we retire to the drawing room? Sir Leslie and your mother will presumably join us there shortly,” was all I said, however.

  He nodded and offered me his arm. As we entered the drawing room I asked Philip if he wished any sort of refreshment. He indicated he would like a bit of something from the liquor cabinet, but I was uncertain as to what Sir Leslie’s response would have been. At what age was it acceptable for young men to drink? Still, it would be rude to refuse. As he sipped from his glass Philip said, “Tell me. How does it feel to be married to Uncle Leslie?”

  “Unusual,” I replied, “and still somewhat unreal.”

  He grunted. “That I can well believe!”

  “I understand all newlywed couples feel that way,” Sir Leslie said from the doorway. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be drinking, Philip? My dear Heather, you must not indulge the boy.”

  I stiffened at Sir Leslie’s manner. “I had always thought young men of university age to be quite capable of making their own decisions,” I retorted quietly.

  “Oh, indeed, they ought to be,” my husband replied.

  Philip flushed and would have spoken, but Mary did not let him. “Heather, dear, I want a comfortable case with you! Shall we nip up to my room until lunch? I want to truly welcome you into the family.”

  I nodded and Sir Leslie stepped aside to let me pass. Arm in arm, as Mary chattered about her journey we proceeded to her chamber. Her things had already been put away and Mary dismissed her maid. As the door closed behind the woman Mary turned to me. “My poor child! Leslie is a beast! He told me what happened and you may be quite sure I told him precisely what I thought of his behaviour. Are you quite overset? Has he maltreated you? If he does, let me know at once and I will put a stop to that. Just like a man to feel he must force you into marriage and that that would resolve everything! If he had only come to me ... But this thing is done and cannot be undone, so we must make the best of it. I have already told Leslie he must legally settle a competence on you. And that you must enter the ton under my wing. Men! Are they all fools, or only the ones I know?”

  I grinned. If I had liked Philip, I liked his mother far better. Yes, she would be a formidable ally. She continued, “It is too early to know, of course, but if you are, well, breeding, have Leslie notify me at once. I daresay you will be so angry at him you shan’t want to see him. And if you preferred, you could come stay with me until the child was born. Oh, my poor dear, you must be dreadfully cast down! Though I must say, I should have had no notion of it from the way you greeted me.”

  I sighed. “I am learning to act a part. Sir Leslie has assured me that in private we need have nought to do with each other, but that in public our marriage must appear normal.”

  “Sensible,” Mary replied, “though I cannot help but feel it is an unfair burden on you. But you seem to be a sensible young woman. However did you land in the briars like this?”

  “I might be sensible, but I was very green,” I said wryly. “It never occurred to me that Mr. Thornsby’s establishment was other than an ordinary domestic agency. Or that the word ‘companion’ might mean...”

  “Quite!” Mary said. “We are supposed to be naive and innocent and then this sort of thing happens. If I had a daughter, you may be sure she would know precisely what dangers to expect from men.”

  “Philip is your only child?” I asked in surprise.

  “Goodness, no. I’ve three other boys, but they are much younger,” she said confidingly. “You see, for a time after Philip was born, my husband and I were, well, at outs with one another. Later we reconciled and now we are reasonably content. He is a dear, sweet fellow who denies me nothing. And I look after him.”

  It seemed a rather strange way to view one’s husband, but I was scarcely in a position to know what was ordinary. Before I could settle upon a suitable response, she spoke again. “My dear, I would not tell anyone else the details of your ... er ... marriage to Leslie. Particularly Philip. They are not fond of one another even now, and Philip might, well, do something. He might even be so goosish as to tell his friends and I needn’t tell you, my dear, that that would not help your reputation.”

  I nodded. “I suspected Sir Leslie and Philip were at dagger point and I’m afraid I did not help matters.”

  “Oh, fustian. Regardless of what you might say or do, they would come to cuffs,” Mary said regretfully. “Indeed, I suppose we ought to rejoin them.”

  I agreed. Privately, however, I wondered at Mary’s insistence upon Philip’s company here when she knew Sir Leslie so disliked him. Leslie was alone in the drawing room, and at Mary’s questioning glance, he said, “I had Mrs. Morgan show the halfling to his room so that he might wash before lunch.”

  “You didn’t quarrel, did you, Leslie?” she asked.

  Leslie smiled wryly, “Do I ever quarrel? I am sorry, Mary, but it disturbs me to see Philip’s heedlessness. I promise I shall try, however, to be more tolerant.”

  Clearly Mary was not satisfied, but there was little she could say. Sir Leslie had not, after all, invited Mary or Philip. We stood thus when Philip reentered. “My dear Aunt Heather,” he said, “I am terribly sorry if I have kept you waiting.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Sir Leslie’s scowl. I replied sweetly, “You are not late at all, nephew. Shall we go in to lunch?”

  Philip offered me his arm and I was about to take it when Sir Leslie stepped between us. “A bridegroom does not relinquish such privileges easily,” he said calmly, and offered his arm.

  Reluctantly I took it and he placed his other hand over mine. As we moved to the dining hall he squeezed my hand harshly and murmured, “I warn you to take care, madam. I will not tolerate you joining with my scapegrace nephew to mock me.”

  Subdued, I stared at the floor. I had no notion of the nature of the conflict between Sir Leslie and his nephew and it was unfair of me to take sides. Indeed, it was foolish. Mary had counselled me not to confide in Philip. If I continued in this manner would he not guess that something was amiss between Leslie and myself? Meekly I allowed myself to be seated, avoiding Philip’s questioning gaze and Leslie’s penetrating stare. There was no lack of conversation, however, as Mary told us all the recent activities of her three younger sons. Of Philip she spoke little and I wondered at the omission. But perhaps she was simply reluctant to speak of him when he was present. Sir Leslie unbent sufficiently to give the proper responses. As for me, I was truly interested. Never having known a brother, I was curious as to how they behaved. Philip was bored, but that was to be expected. Then Mary began to discuss Mrs. Gilwen’s school. “A most well thought of establishment, my dear. I presume her emphasis on the proprieties and etiquette is as strong as ever? Excellent. And if the reputation of the school is justified, you are an accomplished needlewoman?”

  “Well enough,” I replied. “Though I prefer tapestry work, I am able to cope with basic stitching needs such as hems and buttons.” I could not resist adding mischievously, “Since my arrival I’ve had quite an opportunity to use my skill. Leslie seems to delight in losing buttons and acquiring small tears in his shirts.”

  “You’ve been repairing them?” Leslie exclaimed incredulously.


  “Who else?” I asked. “Did you think the fairies or leprechauns had begun visiting the castle?”

  Mary laughed. “Good heavens, Leslie, are you kicking up a fuss? Perhaps, Heather, he was glad of the excuse to order new clothes before.”

  “No, of course not,” Leslie said hastily. “I simply was surprised. I have not yet had time to acquaint myself with all of my wife’s accomplishments. What other surprises have you for me, Heather?”

  “Music or perhaps art?” Mary suggested.

  I shook my head regretfully. “I am afraid I have no skill in either.”

  “Riding?” Philip asked.

  I laughed. “I had no opportunity to learn in the center of London.”

  “Well, you must now,” Philip said eagerly, “and I should be pleased to teach you.”

  “I believe that is my privilege,” Leslie said dryly. “I have a mare that is an extremely gentle mount, Heather.”

  I murmured assent. I dared not say that I would prefer Philip as a tutor. Mary spoke next, “It is really an excellent establishment, Leslie.”

  “Yes, but did she learn anything aside from needlework there?” he asked impatiently.

  Stung, I retorted, “Nothing you would consider of consequence. Simply a smattering of history, the classics, science, politics, French, German, and geography. I am very sorry but I was more interested in my books than in learning how to please men!”

  Close to tears, I stared down at my plate as the others regarded me in shocked silence. Nor did Philip’s subsequent words improve matters. “Well, you seem to have pleased at least one man. After all, Uncle Leslie married you, didn’t he?”

  Mary spoke hastily, “Politics, Heather? I was not aware it was taught in schools for young ladies.”

  “Well, of course it is not a regular subject,” I explained. “However, one of the teachers was very interested in politics and we often discussed current events. On occasion, we would acquire all the pamphlets printed concerning a particular issue and discuss them. Though I am afraid Miss Hall never seemed to understand them very well.”

  “Frankly”—Philip yawned—“I don’t see why an attractive young woman would want to bother about such things.”

  “Why not?” I retorted.

  “Well, because such topics are much too weighty,” he replied, surprised at my question.

  Sir Leslie chuckled and I glared at him. I suppose he expected me to be a docile little wet-goose. Well I was very sorry but I could not accommodate him! At my fierce expression, Leslie laughed harder. “Be careful, Philip. My wife can be a tigress when angry.”

  Philip inclined his head toward me. “Oh, very well. Clearly, Aunt Heather, you are exceptional.”

  I smiled, but without warmth. I knew Mrs. Gilwen would have condemned my behaviour as most unladylike. But I did not care. There were some matters on which I could not yield. One of these was the demand by any man that his preferences precede all others. Mary was, as soon we came to expect her to be, the peacemaker. “Well, Leslie,” she said. “You always said you wanted an unusual wife. You certainly have found one. Heather, I am delighted to know my new belle-soeur is not a ninnyhammer. Philip, a pretty face is not all that matters. Now, I am tired of the topic and I forbid it for the rest of the meal.”

  “What would you suggest we discuss?” Leslie asked meekly.

  “Well, I am sure I do not know.” Mary huffed. “Think of something.”

  “Have you met our vicar, Mr. Watly yet, Heather? I mean Aunt Heather,” Philip asked with a grin.

  “Oh, yes,” I replied, “he officiated at our wedding.”

  “And he gave you advice on the responsibilities of marriage, I’ll wager.” Philip laughed. When I nodded, he began to imitate the vicar’s voice. “Marriage is like a seed one plants. Given careful tending, it grows and flourishes...”

  “Do you think the advice so absurd?” Leslie asked.

  “No,” Philip answered honestly, “of course not. It is Mr. Watly I find absurd.”

  “You know him well?” I asked in surprise.

  Philip grinned. “Does one need to?”

  “Philip!” Mary exclaimed angrily. “Whatever your opinion of him, he is a man of the cloth and due respect.”

  “But tell me,” I persisted, “how is it you know his marriage speech? Surely you have not been married.”

  “No, but I was at Uncle’s first wedding.”

  I blanched. “F-first wedding?” I stammered, feeling a trifle faint.

  “Philip, you may leave the table at once!” Sir Leslie said in deadly calm.

  We waited until Philip sauntered from the room smiling. “Heather,” Mary began tentatively.

  “There was no first wedding,” Sir Leslie said harshly. “I was betrothed. The young woman changed her mind. In the church. Mr. Watly tried to convince her to go on with the ceremony. She refused. I am surprised that even in school you did not hear of it. It was quite an on-dit.” With that, he rose and strode from the room.

  “Oh, dear,” Mary exclaimed. “I had hoped you need not hear of this, Heather. Leslie was younger then ... Pray forget it, my dear.”

  “But why?” I asked. “I mean, why did she wait until the church? And what happened to her?”

  “I don’t know.” Mary fluttered. “My dear, you must excuse me.”

  And then I was alone, feeling slightly ill.

  Chapter 5

  Ellen greeted me at the door of my room. “My lady! You look so pale!”

  I flushed and drew myself straighter. “I am merely tired, Ellen. Ellen, have you heard about Sir Leslie’s prior betrothal?”

  “Ah, so that’s what overset you. Well,” she said confidingly, “of course I was too young at the time to remember it myself. But ... the servants here told me about it. I thought Sir Leslie had probably explained himself and if not, well, it wouldn’t be my place to tell tales.” Ellen hesitated, “But since you asked me ... It seems Sir Leslie fell in love with a young woman, Jane—I think her name was. Well! Jane was in love with some young care-for-nothing her parents refused to let her marry. Why they didn’t just elope I can’t say, but it seems the young man refused. Well! Jane agreed to marry Sir Leslie. Everyone was happy, except Jane and the young man of course, and the arrangements were made. It was to be a lovely wedding. Then, that day, in the church, she said she wouldn’t! Well! There she was in her wedding gown and all the guests. The vicar tried to convince her to many Sir Leslie, but Jane refused. Everyone was quite shocked and wondered what Sir Leslie had done to make Jane cry off. But one of the maids happened to hear Jane telling her parents. Well! It seems she never actually meant to marry Sir Leslie. She had decided that if she did what she did, her parents would have to agree she was ruined and let her marry her young man. And they did of course. Though not immediately. And poor Sir Leslie! He really had been in Jove with her, it seems. And I needn’t tell you he was eyed askance after that affair. I mean, everyone assumed he must have done seething to scare the lady off. It was sometime after that he started having young women sent up ... oh! I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to remind you...”

  So Ellen did know what had happened to me. “It seems the servants are rather free with their words,” I said reprovingly.

  “Oh, never outside the castle. I swear. They all think too highly of Sir Leslie to—”

  “Too highly!” I ejaculated.

  “Well, of course, in that respect they ... But in other ways ...”

  “Enough, Ellen,” I said. “I would rather not hear anyone sing Sir Leslie’s praises. In fact I would rather not hear any discussions of him.”

  “Yes, of course. Would you care to rest, my lady?”

  I was tempted. But I might be needed. “No, Ellen. I shall be in the library,” I replied.

  As was my habit, I chose a book and ensconced in a chair, my feet tucked under me. Sir Leslie rarely used the library at this hour and I knew I should have privacy. I cannot say why the library seemed such a refuge to me but it did.
Thus I was engrossed in a book when someone entered. I glanced up. At the same moment, Sir Leslie saw me and started. Then, calmly, he walked over and sat in a chair near me. “Are you also hiding from my family?” he asked.

  In spite of myself, I smiled. “In a way.”

  He sighed. “I love my sister dearly, but her visits always cut up my peace. What are you reading?”

  I showed him the cover of my book. Leslie was surprised. “Mitford’s History of Greece? So you truly meant it earlier when you said you were a bluestocking?”

  I stiffened. I would not tolerate any disparaging remarks from Sir Leslie. He eyed me oddly. “You seem to have startled Philip.” When I shrugged, he laughed.

  “I daresay most of the young women he knows are bubbleheaded things,” I countered.

  “True,” Sir Leslie conceded, “but do you believe he prefers a scholar?”

  “Of—of course,” I responded uncertainly.

  Sir Leslie snorted, “You truly are green about men!”

  “And you about women,” I retorted angrily, “if Jane and I are examples! I believe the reason you dislike Philip is that he reminds you of incidents you would prefer to forget.”

  Leslie stared at me for a moment, then stood, towering over me. “So someone has been gossiping. I neither know nor wish to know what Banbury tales you have been told. Clearly you would not believe the truth so I shall not waste my time in futile explanation. But pray have care with your tongue, madam. I also am capable of wounding with words.”

  I half rose from my chair in protest. I did not mean the words in the manner he had interpreted them. But it was too late. The slammed door announced he was gone before my apology was even half framed. I was too agitated to read and I set my book aside. I must apologise to Sir Leslie. But how? He was sufficiently overset that I knew he would not listen to any words I might try to say. I did not like Sir Leslie, and I had good cause to harbour ill will. But in this, if I were honest with myself, I had wronged him. And in truth, in the matter of Jane, my sympathies resided with Sir Leslie. I knew from my school years how feckless a young woman might be. I was beginning to recognise that for Sir Leslie, as for myself, the situation was neither a happy nor an easy one. And my behaviour did not aid matters.