“Oh, yes,” Nancy said, tossing her head so that the feather on her bonnet nodded appealingly. “Mama istoo forgiving by half.”
“And you are not?” he asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
She perceived her mistake immediately. “Oh, yes.” She laughed. “To my shame I must confess to an excess of sensibility, sir. I am even more tender-heartedthan Mama—or so Papa always tells me. But sheought not to have been forgiven, you see. By her carelessness she smashed a dozen bottles of Papa’s bestwine and twenty of the finest crystal glasses. And shedid not even apologize or shed a single tear. She hasnever shown any gratitude at all for all we have donefor her. I hate ingratitude more than almost any othervice, sir.”
“It is disturbing to know that some of our acts of charity go unobserved and unappreciated by thosewhose sole function in life should be to make us feelgood about ourselves,” he murmured soothingly.
“Yes.” She looked dubious, as if she had not quite grasped his meaning. “I believe she should have beenturned off, sir.”
“Even though she has nothing else to go to?” he said.
“Well, that is her problem, is it not?” she said.
“Even if she was to end up on the open road with nowhere to go?” he said. “Or in the nearest town withnothing to do and nothing to sell except... Well, whatI was about to say is not for such delicate ears asyours. And of course, you would not really turn heroff, would you? You were merely telling me what youwould do if you did not have such a tender heart.”
She sighed. “You are right, sir,” she said. “Papa says he does not know how I will manage servants ofmy own when I find it impossible even to think ofdisciplining them when they break things or do not dothings as they ought to be done.”
Mr. Bancroft turned the conversation again. But he had heard what he needed to hear and what he hadfully expected to hear. He had given her two chancesand she had squandered both.
He plotted his revenge quite coldly. All his attention was concentrated upon it for the remaining days ofhis stay at Holly House. He lost interest in all else.He terminated his affair with Lady Myron with onepretty speech and neglected to develop the affair withMrs. Hunter that had had such an extremely promisingbeginning. His nights were spent alone. He did notsleep a great deal more than he had done during thefirst two weeks of his stay—though he doubtless expended a great deal less energy—but at least he wasalone. He tended to spend many hours of each nightlying on his back with his hands clasped beneath hishead, thinking. And reliving a certain kiss, which hadbeen easily the least lascivious he had ever given, evenas a green boy.
His plot approached its culmination two nights before the guests were to leave Holly House. After the ladieshad left the dinner table and after the gentlemen haddrunk their port and risen and stretched and decidedthat the moment of rejoining the ladies could be postponed no longer, he spoke quietly to Mr. Peabody, asking if he might have a private word with that gentlemanthe next morning on a matter of some importance.
And then he proceeded to the drawing room to tell Miss Nancy Peabody about his hopes and anxieties,though with the skill of long practice he succeeded ingathering about him almost all the ladies before hebegan to speak and soon enough all the gentlemenwere listening too.
It had been well done, he thought in self-congratulation as the evening proceeded. And tomorrow would come the denouement. There was only one part of itthat he was unsure about—totally unsure.
And so he had a largely sleepless night again.
He had noticed her slipping from the drawing room, unseen and unlamented by everyone. No, not by everyone. And even Mrs. Peabody missed her whenguests had talked up the thirst for second cups of teaand there was no little shadow seated behind the trayto pour them.
Well, tomorrow, he thought with grim satisfaction, his hands clasped behind his head. Ah, yes, tomorrow.But his heart thumped with unaccustomed nervousness when he thought about part of tomorrow.
All the ladies were gathered in the salon by late morning. All of them without exception. Even Mrs.Delaney, Lady Myron, and Mrs. Hunter were there,and even those ladies who usually slept until noon andthen spent another hour or two in their dressing roomswith their maids.
The air positively pulsed with excited expectation. Mr. Bancroft had been closeted in the library with Mr.Peabody since shortly after breakfast. Nancy and Mrs.Peabody had explained to everybody who had beenunfortunate enough not to witness it for themselves—though in fact there was no such person, except Patricia—that before leaving the breakfast room Mr. Bancroft had bowed over Nancy’s hand again and liftedit to his lips again and gazed at her with adoringeyes—the adjective was supplied by Mrs. Peabody,Nancy being too modest to use it herself—and murmured to her that he had one hour of excruciatinganxiety to live through before putting the question tosome lady—he had emphasized the words, not namingher—the answer to which would determine the happiness or misery of the whole of the rest of his life.
Nancy was becomingly flushed. Her eyes shone. She looked about her with slightly elevated nose as if shepitied all the other lesser mortals who were not aboutto receive an offer from Mr. Bancroft. She was dressedin her very best muslin, though it was still only morning, and her hair was a glorious and intricate mass ofcarefully constructed ringlets and curls.
She looked, Susan declared, faint envy in her voice, like a princess.
They all waited for the moment when the door would open and someone—surely the butler himselfand not a mere footman—would summon Nancy tothe library to receive the addresses of her beau.
Patricia sat quietly on her chair just behind Mrs. Peabody’s, thinking determinedly about her ownplanned talk with her uncle during the afternoon if inall the excitement she could get him alone. She wasgoing to ask him if he knew how she would go aboutapplying for employment as a governess or schoolteacher.
And then the door handle was heard to turn and all the ladies fell instantly silent and turned towardthe door, awaiting the summons. Nancy sprang to herfeet, her hands clasped to her bosom. Mrs. Peabodysmiled graciously about at her gathered guests.
It was neither a footman nor the butler who opened the door and stood in the doorway for a moment,looking impossibly handsome and elegant, before proceeding inside the room. It was Mr. Bancroft himself.Nancy’s lips parted and she leaned a little toward him.Mrs. Peabody clasped her own hands to her bosom.
“Ma’am,” Mr. Bancroft said, proceeding across the carpet toward Mrs. Peabody, smiling at her, and thenturning his gaze on Nancy, “my meeting with Mr. Peabody has been brought to a successful and happy conclusion. It seems that at least some of the anxietiesthat kept me awake and pacing last night have beenlaid to rest.”
Mrs. Peabody sighed. “Of course, my dear sir,” she said. “Mr. Peabody has never been a difficult manwith whom to deal. He would certainly not find itdifficult to deal with a future baron.”
But his eyes were upon Nancy, devouring her. “Miss Peabody,” he said, “may I be permitted to compliment you on your appearance this morning? Yourtaste in dress is, as always, exquisite. But as alwaysthe loveliness of your person quite outshines the finest muslin.”
“Oh, sir.” Nancy’s eyes were directed quite firmly on the floor.
“And so.” Mrs. Peabody’s voice had become hearty. “You will be wishing to step into another room orperhaps outside—”
