by Ann Barker
‘I’d forgotten,’ he answered blandly. ‘Anyway, if she’s embarrassed because of a little gentle teasing, then she needs a good deal more banter, not less.’
‘She needs you to leave her alone,’ Aurelia said severely. ‘You will only arouse expectations that you have no intention of fulfilling. If you must flirt, flirt with such as Jennifer Cummings, who know how to play the game.’
‘And I suppose that I won’t arouse expectations in her breast – or, which is more important, in the rather more ample breast of her mother?’
‘And if you did, she’s a charming child …’ Her voice tailed off.
‘Aurelia, I did warn you, didn’t I?’ he said, his voice suddenly serious. ‘Don’t play games with my future. When I decide to marry, I, and only I, will choose my wife. Miss Cummings is just as you have described her – a charming child. But I have no desire to look as though I am marrying someone who might well be my daughter.’
‘Well, in the meantime, just take care that you don’t hurt those you’re tangling with. Emily Whittaker and the doctor clearly have an understanding. I should hate it if any thoughtless love games of yours spoiled her best chance of a good match.’
He stared at her incredulously. ‘A good match? With Dr Pimple? You must be joking!’
‘I am not,’ she retorted. ‘I had it from the dean’s wife. Local people are living in expectation of an engagement announcement, apparently.’
The baronet shook his head. ‘No, no,’ he said decisively. ‘She’s a pretty woman, and would be prettier if she dressed becomingly. She could do so much better for herself.’
Alan Trimmer came in at this point, having looked up the reference that he had wanted to find. Whilst he and his wife indulged in a little domestic conversation, Sir Gareth looked down into his wine and thought about Emily Whittaker.
Why was it that he kept feeling an impulse to tease her? Looking back on their brief acquaintance, he had done so on almost every occasion when they had met. It was certainly not because he wanted to embarrass her as his sister had suggested. After considering the matter, it occurred to him that the reason had something to do with wanting to encourage that slightly rusty, unaccustomed laugh of hers. Her life had been too serious.
Of course, there were times when seriousness was called for. As a landlord with a substantial estate to administer, he had many matters to deal with, some being of the utmost gravity, but he believed that life was to be enjoyed as well. It seemed to him that the canon’s daughter had missed much of the enjoyment that life could bring. He would like to correct that; if the consequence was that the light of amusement came more into those lovely hazel eyes, then he would be very well satisfied.
‘Would you not agree, Gareth?’ The baronet looked up blankly. He had no idea what his sister might have said. ‘Good heavens, you were miles away,’ Aurelia exclaimed. ‘What were you thinking about?’
‘Oh, nothing much. I was just thinking that it was a pity Miss Whittaker has no one to laugh with,’ he told her.
Aurelia made no comment, but simply repeated the remark she had made before and which he had not heard. But at the back of her mind, the beginning of an idea began to form.
‘I am going out to dinner tonight, Grandpapa,’ Emily told her grandfather on Tuesday afternoon. ‘Mr and Mrs Trimmer have invited us, and Mrs Trimmer’s nurse is to sit with you while I am out.’ She paused. ‘Grandpapa, would you think me very wicked if I said that I wished I had something pretty to wear? All my clothes are so dull and unfashionable, and I want to look my best. Do you think that I should wear the brown silk? Yes, so do I. I will come and show you how I look before we leave.’
Emily had three evening gowns, a black one, a grey one and the brown silk. The latter was not any more fashionable than the other two – they were all several years old – and cut lower in the waist than the current style dictated but the colour was more becoming to her creamy complexion, and the fabric was of an excellent quality.
In the past, she had usually worn the gown with a white shawl. Since Sunday morning, however, she had been thinking about the white bonnet that she had longed for, and Sir Gareth’s comment that it was not her colour. Her father was not mean with the housekeeping, and she had a little put by that she had been saving for a special occasion. On impulse, therefore, she had gone to the mercer’s in Bailgate on Monday and bought a length of yellow silk, and some matching fringe. Since then, she had worked diligently until she had managed to produce a shawl whose colour enriched the brown of her gown rather than deadened it.
That evening when she got ready, it was with some excitement that she added the finishing touches to her outfit. Feeling very daring, she had bought a length of yellow ribbon at the same time as the fabric for her shawl, and now she used it to arrange her hair into a slightly looser style than usual.
When she was ready, she went to her grandfather’s room. She had decided not to go downstairs until it was time for her and her father to leave. She did not want to risk being sent upstairs to dress her hair in a more severe style.
‘Well, Grandpapa, what do you think?’ she asked him, as she twirled around in front of the bed. ‘Do I look smart enough? Grandpapa, I am so excited. I hope it is not wrong but I can’t help it.’ She hurried over to sit next to him, loving the way in which the silk rustled as she moved. ‘Grandpapa, do you remember my saying that there was a gentleman? Well, he is to be there tonight. Do you think he will like me?’ The little clock on the mantelshelf chimed, and Emily stood up, then leaned over to kiss her grandfather’s withered cheek. ‘I’ll come and tell you all about it tomorrow. Goodbye, dear Grandpapa.’
She left the room, not noticing that on the coverlet, the thin white hand twitched faintly.
To Emily’s relief, her father made no comment either about her hair or her new shawl, but simply offered her his arm so that they could walk the short distance around the north side of the cathedral from their own home in Priorygate to the Trimmers’ house in Minster Yard.
They talked very little as they went, her father merely commenting briefly on the balminess of the evening. Emily was glad of this, for she was feeling unaccountably nervous about the forthcoming occasion. She was glad that her father had not said anything about what she was wearing. Her confidence in her improved appearance was diminishing with every step. By the time they reached the front door of the Trimmers’ house, the yellow of her shawl, which had seemed earlier to give a welcome touch of colour, had become to her mind unforgivably garish and bold, whilst her new hairstyle seemed rather blowsy.
None of those who greeted them seemed at all struck by what now seemed to Emily to be the blatant vulgarity of her appearance. On the contrary, Sir Gareth, who was dressed very stylishly in cream knee breeches with a black coat and blue waistcoat, with dazzling white linen, greeted them both politely, saying, ‘You look charming this evening, Miss Whittaker. Do you not agree, sir?’
He had turned politely to Emily’s father, who looked at his daughter in some surprise. ‘Yes indeed,’ he agreed, in a tone of rather puzzled dawning awareness. It was the first time that Emily could remember his making any kind of complimentary remark about her attire. But then, she reflected, he could hardly do otherwise when Sir Gareth had applied to him for corroboration.
Mr Trimmer also came forward to greet them, and Mrs Trimmer, wearing a high-waisted gown in a fresh shade of green decorated with tiny yellow flowers around the hem and the edges of the sleeves, managed to look both fashionable and modest.
It seemed as if they would be a very small party indeed, until the door opened to admit Mrs Cummings with her daughter Jennifer, to be followed very shortly afterwards by Dr Boyle.
Mrs Cummings was resplendent in a rich shade of plum, and Jennifer looked absolutely ravishing in snowy white muslin. Emily noticed that, unsurprisingly, Sir Gareth’s eyes were drawn immediately to the younger woman. She could not blame him. Jennifer’s slender figure was shown to great advantage in the flimsy fabric, and
her young face glowed with health. Suddenly, Emily felt dull and old.
‘Your patients have no need of you tonight, then,’ the baronet remarked to the doctor, after they had exchanged greetings.
‘No, they all seem to be remarkably well at present,’ the doctor replied. ‘I have left a message with my housekeeper, so that if an emergency occurs, I can be found easily.’
‘Then let us trust no one will fall ill suddenly and deprive us of your company,’ Sir Gareth responded politely. ‘But do not let me keep you from the other guests.’ The doctor bowed, and turned to approach Emily, who looked up and smiled. She looked happy, but not as happy as she had immediately after her arrival, the baronet decided, before turning to speak to Mrs Cummings and her daughter, who were hovering nearby.
‘I wonder, were you in London for the season, Sir Gareth?’ the older lady asked him.
‘I was,’ he replied, with a slight bow.
‘Was it very exciting?’ Miss Cummings asked him, her eyes shining. ‘How I long to go to London!’
‘I am very sure you do,’ he responded, smiling politely. ‘Are there plans for you to attend in the future?’
‘I am to take her next year,’ Mrs Cummings answered, in a tone which suggested that the baronet ought to be gratified by this information. ‘We were to have gone this spring, but my friend Lady Gresham, who is Jennifer’s godmother, and is to act as our hostess, suffered a bereavement in March, so it was quite inappropriate for us to stay with her.’
‘Ah yes, I recall, the dowager Lady Gresham passed away,’ Sir Gareth replied. ‘And so you have had to wait, Miss Cummings. I hope you did not find it too trying?’
‘She was naturally a little disappointed, Sir Gareth,’ Mrs Cummings put in, before Jennifer could say anything. ‘But she did not make a fuss about it. She has the best nature of any girl I have met, although I do say so myself.’
‘I am pleased to hear it,’ replied the baronet politely. ‘Are you an only child, Miss Cummings?’
Again, Jennifer’s mother answered for her. ‘Yes indeed, she is my only child, and my great solace, for since Mr Cummings passed away, there has only been Jennifer and myself.’
‘You will have to tell me what you find to do in Lincoln for entertainment, Miss Cummings,’ said Sir Gareth, resolving that this gambit would be his last attempt to get Jennifer to answer for herself.
Fortunately, at this moment Mrs Cummings had found her attention claimed by Mrs Trimmer. ‘Well, I shall try,’ Jennifer replied, ‘but there isn’t a great deal to do, really. London must be far more exciting.’
Sir Gareth smiled wryly. ‘Ah, but for me, you see, Lincoln has all the advantage of novelty. For you, London is a new place, but since next season will be my twentieth, you must excuse me if I do not get very excited about it.’
Miss Cummings’s eyes opened very wide. ‘Your twentieth?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why, you must be—’ She stopped abruptly, blushing profusely.
‘Very old,’ he completed for her with a twinkle. ‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed. ‘But pray don’t tell anyone.’
Jennifer laughed out loud, drawing a look from her mama that was half approval, because she and the baronet were getting along so well, and half reproof, because such conduct was a little unladylike.
Dr Boyle, who had been enquiring of Emily about her grandfather’s health, turned to look at the young lady in question. ‘How very lovely she looks tonight,’ he remarked in tones of heartfelt admiration. ‘She looks exactly like a fairy. Does she not, Miss Whittaker?’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Emily in a colourless tone. The doctor had shown no sign of noticing her new shawl and the different manner in which she had dressed her hair. If marriage to him meant continually hearing his praises of other ladies while garnering none for herself, it would be a bleak business indeed.
Sir Gareth turned away from his conversation with Miss Cummings and, as he did so, he noticed Emily Whittaker. A little while ago, she had looked happy and animated. Now, it seemed as if all the light had gone out of her face. He wondered why, and all at once felt an urge to kick whoever was responsible for the change in her expression. He hoped that it might be Dr Boyle.
It was very soon after this that dinner was announced. Mrs Trimmer took her brother’s arm, whilst her husband escorted Mrs Cummings, leaving Emily to follow with the doctor, with Canon Whittaker escorting Jennifer in the rear. At table, Sir Gareth was placed on his sister’s right, and Emily, to her surprise, found herself on Mrs Trimmer’s left, with Dr Boyle sitting on the other side of her. Sir Gareth had Jennifer sitting next to him on his other side, a fact that pleased that young lady’s mother greatly, whilst Mr Trimmer had Mrs Cummings on one side and Canon Whittaker on the other. Because the company was small in number, Mrs Trimmer announced that talking across the table was allowed, and they proved to be quite a cheerful party. Whilst Emily’s father chatted with Jennifer in a kindly, indulgent style, Emily found herself engaged in cheerful banter with Mrs Trimmer and her brother.
‘He is the most infuriating man,’ Mrs Trimmer was saying to Emily. ‘In fact, he always has been. Do you know, I quite depended upon him to introduce me to all his friends when I first came out, but do you think that he did?’
‘I would guess that he did not, from what you have just said,’ Emily ventured, looking at brother and sister with something like envy. Again, she regretted that she had never had the opportunity to take part in this kind of lively exchange.
‘You are quite correct. He did not. He came to my ball, danced his duty dances with me, disappeared into the card room, and then retired to his club. Would you believe it?’
‘Miss Whittaker, this is most unfair. You are only hearing half the story,’ Sir Gareth protested in his deep tones. ‘Imagine, if you will, a group of young women, all of them in their first season, all following me around, egged on by Aurelia, if you please. “Oh, my brother will take you here, my brother will take you there”,’ he cried, in a falsetto voice. Then he continued in his normal tone, ‘If I wanted to escape, the only place that I could go where I could be sure that they would not pursue me was my club!’
‘My heart bleeds for you, Gareth,’ retorted his sister, unimpressed. ‘So handsome, so wealthy, so sought after.’
‘No, Sister dear,’ he corrected her. ‘I’m not handsome. Take it from one who looks in the mirror every day.’
‘Nonsense,’ Aurelia declared. ‘Of course you are handsome. Is he not, Emily?’
Emily stared at them both, horrified, blushing furiously. All at once she recalled the moment when they had stood on the threshold of her house and she had said ‘magnificent’ whilst looking straight up at him. She had considered Sir Gareth to be the most attractive man that she had ever seen, from the moment that she had first set eyes on him. It was one thing to think it, however, quite another to speak it. ‘I … I …’
‘Perhaps Miss Whittaker has higher standards than yours, Aurelia,’ Sir Gareth suggested.
At that moment, Emily’s attention was claimed by Dr Boyle, and when she next spoke with Mrs Trimmer, she found that Sir Gareth’s attention had been claimed by Jennifer Cummings.
‘Do forgive me, my dear,’ Mrs Trimmer said in an undertone. ‘I did not mean to embarrass you.’
‘I was a little embarrassed,’ Emily confessed, ‘but it is only that I am not used to this kind of jesting.’
‘I think that you would have been had your brother lived,’ the other lady replied.
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Emily agreed. ‘But he died when I was only eight, and he had been away at school for much of the time. I did not really know him.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish that someone could tell me what he was really like.’
‘I can.’ While Emily had been speaking, Sir Gareth’s conversation with Jennifer had ceased and that young lady had had her attention claimed again by Canon Whittaker.
Emily turned her head to look at him. ‘Can you really?’ she asked.
‘Certainly. Don’t you recall that I s
aid that we were at school together?’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ Emily agreed hastily. ‘But schools are large places. I imagine that one could be in the same school as a person and never really know him.’
‘Yes, that is true, but I did know Patrick very well indeed,’ Sir Gareth told her.
‘What was he like?’ Emily asked him.
Sir Gareth looked across at the eager face, and suddenly thought how very appealing she looked. ‘I cannot tell you here,’ he said. ‘Would you do me the honour of escorting me around the cathedral tomorrow? I could tell you about him then.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Emily answered, trying not to sound too excited.
‘One thing I will tell you now,’ he remarked, ‘is that he was alive.’ She looked a little puzzled and he added impatiently, ‘What I mean is that he wasn’t a plaster saint’ – here he directed a swift glance in her father’s direction – ‘but that he was really alive.’
As Emily and her father were walking home, her father said to her, ‘I had a most illuminating discussion with Sir Gareth about Patrick tonight.’
‘Did you, Papa?’ Emily asked him, recalling what the baronet had said.
‘Yes, I did,’ her father replied. ‘He was a fine scholar, apparently. “Everything came to him so easily”. Those were his very words. And he used his skills to help those less gifted. How proud we would have been, would we not, Emily?’
‘Yes indeed, Papa,’ Emily replied, thinking that this was the longest conversation that she and her father had had about Patrick since his death.
After her father had gone to bed, Emily slipped back downstairs and went into the drawing-room where the portrait of her brother hung over the fireplace. It looked just the same as it had always done.
He was really alive, Sir Gareth had said. What had he meant?
CHAPTER TEN
Before they had left the Trimmers’ the previous evening, Sir Gareth had suggested in an undertone that they should meet in the cathedral the following morning at ten o’clock, and Emily had nodded her assent. The secrecy had seemed a good idea. Had her father been aware of their meeting, he would almost certainly have decided to join them so that he could find out more about Patrick. Had Mrs Cummings heard about the expedition, she might have tried to get her daughter included. As it was, they would be able to talk uninterrupted.
