The Frog Earl

by Carola Dunn

  The shortest way to Mere House, residence of the widow of the late Sir Josiah Thompson, Baronet, was back across the grounds of Salters Hall. Followed by Jacko on his sturdy cob, the two girls turned away from the village along a winding lane. Celandines gilded the hedgebanks on either side, and when they rode through a gateway into a meadow the greening grass was scattered with patches of pale yellow cowslips. The air smelled of spring.

  “There was never a day like this in India,” said Mimi joyfully.

  “We must go to the woods one day soon. The bluebells must be coming out.” Harriet was abstracted, her thoughts on more serious matters. “Does the colonel really mean to found a new orphanage? Most charitable gentlemen are satisfied with sitting on a board of trustees.”

  “That would never content Papa. Like me, he must always have some enterprise underway. At home—in Bharadupatam, I mean—it would be an irrigation canal, or building a new village, or something like that. My grandfather was forever grumbling about spoiling the peasants, but he was afraid another rebellion would mean having British troops quartered on him so he always paid for Papa's schemes.”

  “And your papa always pays for yours.”

  “Yes, but my latest cost him nothing.” She paused as Jacko rode ahead to open the gate in the next hedge. The paddock beyond sloped gently down to a pond and a fence-protected willow sapling, then rose slightly to a stone wall with steps set in it. At the top, where the ground leveled off, stood a small, white gazebo.

  Deva Lal whickered as she recognized the horses gathered by the pond. They raised their heads and one began ambling toward the riders.

  Mimi waved her arm at the scene. “I carried out my latest project this morning.”

  “The horses?” Harriet was puzzled. Mimi shook her head. “The ha-ha? The gazebo?”

  “The pond. Don't you remember how the flies tormented poor Shridatta and Deva Lal last summer? Jacko said there were so many because it was a new pond—Papa had it dug for drainage and for the horses—and the frogs hadn't discovered it yet.”

  “'Sright, miss,” the groom confirmed.

  Mimi looked back. “And you told me all about frog spawn and tadpoles. So I asked Lady Thompson if I could collect some in her lake and bring them here, and she lent me Sir Josiah's butterfly net.”

  “I wondered why Jacko was carrying a butterfly net. You really did it? Frog spawn is horrid stuff. Ferdie brought some home once.”

  “I was too late for frog spawn,” said Mimi regretfully, “but I caught lots of tadpoles.”

  “I'd a done it for you, miss,” Jacko put in.

  “It was fun. I'd not have missed it for the world. The only trouble was that I dropped my bracelet in the water, but a young man was riding by and he fished it out for me.”

  Harriet brightened. “A young man? Someone new to the neighborhood?”

  “I have never seen him before.” Mimi guessed that her friend was hoping for a new beau and was sorry to disillusion her. “He was not a gentleman.”

  “Oh dear. I hope he will not tell anyone about finding you fishing for tadpoles.”

  “With no hat or gloves and all on my own. But I get so tired of being always prim and proper! I suppose people would be shocked. I met Sir Wilfred on my way to the vicarage this morning and I was afraid he would ask why Jacko was carrying a butterfly net.” Mimi's giggle was cut short. She stared at Harriet with an arrested look. “That's it!”

  “What's what?”

  “I have a plan!”

  “Another one? What kind of plan?” asked Harriet, her misgivings obvious.

  “To make all those wretched men start courting you again, instead of me. It should not be difficult, since they are only in love with my fortune. After all, you are prettier than me by far.” Mimi deeply envied Harriet's fair ringlets, rosy cheeks, and blue eyes. “I wish I could give you half my dowry,” she went on. “I have plenty for two, but I suppose that would be considered improper for some obscure reason.”

  “I'm afraid so.” Harriet's laugh was somewhat shaky. “Does your generosity know no bounds, Mimi? As it is, I am indebted to you for my riding habit, my mount—a dozen things.”

  “If your mama had not permitted you to accept the habit, I'd have had to take lessons alone and ride alone. Except for Jacko.” She flashed a smile back at the groom lest his feelings be hurt.

  “So you somehow managed to persuade Mama that riding without a companion would make you utterly miserable. Not that I am complaining. I enjoy our rides and I love Shridatta,” she stroked her horse's neck, “even if I cannot pronounce her name properly.”

  “You see, my projects always turn out for the best,” said Mimi triumphantly.

  “Tell me your new plan.”

  “I'm going to stop behaving like a demure, proper young lady all the time. If Mr. Pell and Sir Wilfred and the others disapprove of my conduct, they are bound to turn back to you, do you not think?”

  “Mimi, you cannot! I know you don't care for any of the young gentlemen hereabouts, but if you lose your reputation no one will marry you.”

  “I'm not sure that I want to marry, especially someone who only wants my money. I'm quite happy living with Papa.”

  “You don't want a family of your own? Children? It is what every female wishes for.”

  “Well, perhaps, one day. Anyway, I don't mean to do anything so very scandalous, just to stop considering all the time what people will think of my actions. After living in purdah in India, England seemed very free, but you are fenced in by just as many silly rules and conventions, only different ones. Why should I always wear a hat when I go out?”

  “Because otherwise the sunshine will make your complexion... Oh!”

  Mimi laughed merrily. “You see? And anyway, it's cloudy more often than not.”

  “It does seem a bit silly when you think about it.” The vicar's daughter sounded doubtful.

  “To start with, I shall tell everyone about my tadpoles. That is not so very shocking, is it?”

  “Not improper, to be sure, but rather eccentric.”

  “That's just what I want Sir Wilfred to think. I shall invite him to come to the scullery to see them.”

  “I thought you put the tadpoles in the pond.”

  “I took some home so that I can watch how they grow and change.”

  Harriet sighed. “Definitely eccentric, but I do thank you, Mimi. Only I cannot help hoping that the man who saw you fishing will not spread the story. I wonder whether he is staying in the neighborhood.”

  “I daresay he was just passing through.” Mimi didn't really believe that. She rather thought Mr. Simon Hurst must be staying at Mere House, and she was not at all sure whether she wanted to meet him again or not.

  They rode on in thoughtful silence.

  Lady Thompson's butler opened the front door to them and Mimi handed him the butterfly net.

  “A successful expedition, miss?” he inquired, taking it gingerly between thumb and forefinger.

  “Yes, thank you, Baird.”

  “If you mean to take up angling, miss, I believe Lord Litton's tackle is in the gun room.”

  “I should not dare to borrow his lordship's rod,” said Mimi hastily, remembering the tall, supercilious gentleman, Sir Josiah's sister's son, whom she had met two or three times on his frequent, though brief, visits to his aunt-by-marriage. “But perhaps I shall take up angling. Yes, that is a very good notion.”

  “Then I shall endeavor to find Sir Josiah's rod for you, miss, though I fear it is rather an ancient device, quite outmoded according to his lordship.” He ushered them into the sunny, slightly shabby drawing room. “Miss Lassiter and Miss Cooper, my lady.”

  “Come in and sit down, my dears,” said Lady Thompson, beaming. “Tea, Baird.”

  “And biscuits, my lady?”

  “Of course biscuits. Plenty of biscuits. And do stop waving that net about. Was it useful, Mimi?”

  “Oh yes, ma'am, perfect.” Since becoming her neighbor, Mimi
had grown very fond of Lady Thompson. She confided in her much more readily than she did in Mrs. Forbes, her own well-meaning but dull chaperon. Nonetheless, when she described her “fishing” expedition she omitted all reference to her meeting with Mr. Hurst.

  Nor did her ladyship mention having a guest staying at Mere House. Mimi concluded, with a tinge of regret, that she was not going to see the impudent young man again. Guiltily she hoped that he had not had too far to ride shivering in his soaking wet clothes.

  A maid brought in the tea tray. Harriet was pouring when the butler came in with a fishing rod and tackle box.

  “Good heavens, Baird, have you run quite mad?” inquired his mistress.

  His dignity unimpaired, the butler favored her with a look of utter disdain. “I trust not, my lady. Miss Lassiter expressed an interest in angling and I took it upon myself to offer the late master's equipment. Has your ladyship any objection?”

  “You mean to take up fishing, Mimi?” Lady Thompson asked with lively interest. “An unusual pastime for a young lady, though not unheard of, and most certainly less peculiar than breeding frogs!”

  “It is part of a plan, ma'am.”

  “Tell me.”

  “If Harriet does not object. She is concerned.”

  The vicar's daughter blushed but gave her permission, so Mimi expounded her intention of attempting to give Sir Wilfred Marbury, Mr. Albert Pell, Mr. Blake the lawyer, and the Reverend Lloyd a disgust of her.

  “Then they are bound to return to their pursuit of Harriet,” she explained. “It is not at all fair that they have abandoned her only because I am rich, but if they decide my conduct is unladylike they will not care for my money.”

  “That remains to be seen.” Her ladyship sounded skeptical. “A noble enterprise, however, so long as you do not do anything too outrageous,” she cautioned. “If you are quite certain, Harriet, my dear, that you wish to marry one of those fickle young men?”

  “I wish to marry, ma'am, and it is not likely I shall ever have a chance to meet any other gentlemen.”

  “Very well, child.” She nibbled absently on her fourth gingernut. “The colonel's dinner party will be the perfect moment to set your plan in motion, Mimi.”

  “It would be, ma'am, but I shall have to wait. Papa has a project of his own to propose. He is hoping to gain the support of the local gentry for founding an orphanage, so I must not invite their disapproval before they are committed.”

  “An orphanage, eh? Tell me all about it,” invited Lady Thompson. Between them, Mimi and Simon were providing her with more amusement than she had had in years.

  Chapter 4

  “If I have to have Squire Pell on one side of me, can I not have Mr. Cooper on the other?” asked Mimi rebelliously, poring over the sheet of paper on the writing table before her.

  “Sir Wilfred will be the only titled gentleman present,” pointed out her chaperon, wringing her hands. “He will be shockingly offended if he is not seated next to you.”

  “But I want to offend him.”

  “Not at the colonel's dinner party,” pleaded the Honorable Mrs. Forbes. The faded widow of the black sheep of a noble family, who had expired shortly after being exiled to join the East India Company in Calcutta, she had little expectation of being heeded. “He is not good enough for you, to be sure, and at another time it would not matter, but not at the dinner party, pray.”

  Mimi sighed. “No, you are right. I said the same to Lady Thompson yesterday.”

  “And your father wishes you to act as his hostess tomorrow. The proper arrangement of guests at the table is a most important duty of the hostess.”

  “You don't mind, do you? Not being Papa's hostess any longer?”

  “Not at all, dear. I have never been quite comfortable in the rôle, but I hope I have taught you all that you need to know.”

  “I shall do my best to be a credit to you, ma'am. Sir Wilfred shall sit next to me. But I insist that Harriet is to be beside him, and Albert Pell on her other side. Mr. Cooper will have to go next to Lady Marbury, then, with you between him and Mr. Blake. Will that be all right?”

  “So very difficult with a dearth of married couples,” Mrs. Forbes dithered.

  “At least both the baronets' widows are next to Papa, each with a parson on the other side. They cannot quarrel about that.” Mimi dipped her quill and wrote in the names on her plan. “How complicated it is! Between that and the menu, we have been at it half the afternoon.” She scowled out at the downpour which had kept her within doors.

  “Pray do not wrinkle your brow so, Mimi. You will develop lines.”

  “I don't mind wrinkles, if they will only drive Sir Wilfred back to Harriet.” Nonetheless, she hastily smoothed her forehead with one fingertip. “If it is still raining tomorrow, perhaps some of our guests will not come. I could not bear it if our numbers are upset after all the work we have done.” Hearing a deep chuckle behind her, she swung round. “Papa!”

  The colonel stepped into the ladies' sitting room. “I am come to upset your numbers, my love,” he said, a smile creasing his thin face, made leathery by the sun of India.

  “I hope you are teasing, Papa.”

  “Not I.” Taking a seat on a flowered chintz sofa by the fire, he held out his hands to the flames. A lean man in his mid forties, he was still unaccustomed to the chill of the English climate. “I have heard that Lady Thompson has a relative staying with her,” he went on, “a Mr. Hurst, who ought to be invited.”

  “Oh no!” So he was still in the neighborhood! Mimi searched for a quick excuse to avoid extending the invitation he had requested. “There are no more ladies available to make up the numbers.”

  “What of Harriet's sister?”

  “Judith is only fifteen, and besides, she has a horrid cold.” Mimi joined her father on the sofa. “I believe I saw Lady Thompson's guest yesterday, riding by the mere. He must be a very distant relative, I think. He looked quite commonplace, not at all gentlemanly.” A true gentleman, she thought with renewed indignation, would not have demanded a kiss. He did not deserve to gain any of his claimed rewards. “And she did not mention him to Harriet and me when we went to tea.” The news had doubtless reached the colonel via the network of Mere House servants who had relatives working at Salters Hall.

  “I understand he is come to learn estate management from Wickham.”

  “Then surely we need not invite him? If he is nothing but a bailiff, he will not be in the least interested in your orphanage. Indeed, Papa, Mrs. Forbes and I have worked ourselves into a decline over the seating arrangements, have we not, ma'am? It would be too bad to upset everything.”

  “Very well, my pet,” he said indulgently, patting her cheek. “After all, we have not been formally advised of his arrival. I don't wish to offend her ladyship, though. I shall tell her that the fellow is welcome to call at another time.”

  With that Mimi had to be satisfied, and she admitted to herself that she was not wholly averse to meeting Mr. Hurst again. Seeing her in her proper setting would teach him to be more respectful.

  * * * *

  The following evening, she dressed for the dinner party with the utmost care. Since her aim was not to impress the guests but to persuade four of them to turn back to Harriet, this involved choosing her least fashionable gown, no easy matter.

  Harriet, the daughter of an impecunious parson with a large family, would be wearing her best lavender sarcenet, newly turned to hide the worn spot. It really wasn't fair. Harriet would have loved to have pretty clothes, whereas Mimi was not particularly interested. The world was so full of other fascinating things.

  Nonetheless, Mimi's wardrobe was full of muslins, silks, and satins in the white and pastel shades proper to a debutante. When the clothes had been purchased in London, Mrs. Forbes had muttered halfheartedly that brighter colors better became her charge than these wishy-washy newfangled shades. At that time, however, Mimi had wanted nothing more than to look like every other well-bred young lady,
even though she had no expectation of a London Season. Supported, as usual, by her father, Mimi, as usual, had won.

  If she had since come to recognize that her chaperon was right, that the deeper hues allowable for riding dresses and pelisses suited her far better, she was not one to repine. She would never be a beauty in the English style, and at least she was fashionable.

  Now, though, she regarded the contents of her clothes' press with a discontented eye.

  “I wish I had had my saris made up into gowns,” she pondered aloud, turning to the end of the wardrobe where the lengths of brilliant cloth hung. Asota, her little Indian maid, watched in bewildered silence. “Well, it's too late for now. I'll wear this one. Primrose makes me positively sallow so it will discourage my admirers without offending anyone.”

  The pale yellow gown was embellished with knots of jade green ribbon on the high-waisted skirt and white lace trimmed the bodice and short, puffed sleeves. Asota helped her into it, then brushed her long, straight hair and pinned it in coils on top of her head. Mimi added a gold comb set with jade. She was completing the ensemble with matching necklace and earrings when Mrs. Forbes came in.

  “Oh dear,” she said, her gray curls bouncing beneath a lace cap as she shook her head in dismay. “I thought I had persuaded you not to wear that one.”

  Mimi giggled. “Is it so bad? That's perfect! You look very smart, ma'am.”

  Mrs. Forbes wore black bombazine trimmed with jet beads. Round her neck on a black velvet ribbon hung a silver locket containing a miniature of the Honorable Maximilian Forbes, in a powdered wig. The only colour about her was a touch of rouge on her flat cheeks, a daring gesture she made whenever there were guests expected in the evening, but always trembling lest someone should look at her askance.

  Mimi eyed the pink patches with a considering air, then shook her head. Not tonight, she decided. She didn't want to shock anyone yet, not while Papa was hoping for pledges of support.