It was half an hour before she came, arrayed in an extremely expensive lace confection under her silk wrap, with a matching nightcap. “Oh good, you are still awake, because we must put our heads together and see how we may redeem the situation. Goodness, but I could have slapped that interfering Jane Atherton, poking her nose in where it is not at all wanted, and when all was progressing so advantageously. You did so well to get him out onto the terrace, and in another moment you would have been down the steps and into the garden, and then we should have had him well and truly caught in our web.”
“That is horrid!” Bea said. “I am not a spider, and Bertram is not a fly — he is a man who ought to have a free choice in who he marries, or if he marries at all.”
“Where would we be if every man took it into his head to choose where he marries?” Lady Esther said, with an airy wave of her hand. “It is very much in Bertram’s own interests to marry you, as he will realise once you are safely wed. But we are very short of time, and I cannot arrange another evening party, notat such short notice. It will have to be an afternoon affair — a Venetian breakfast, perhaps.”
“Mama…”
“The weather might be a problem, but so long as you can get him outside and wandering here and there, our plan can still work. Such a pity the maze is not well grown enough to provide concealment, but the shrubbery will do very well, and if itshouldcome on to rain, why then you will have the perfect excuse to seek shelter in the Grecian Temple… or even better, the Grotto. Yes, that should work. We shall not let him slip through our fingers again. Good night, Beatrice.”
***
Bertram woke abruptly, with a line of his friend’s letter running through his head.
‘We are all bidden to bring spinsters of our own to Landerby so that Her Grace may exercise her match-making skills’.
He leapt out of bed, and raced across the room to his writing desk, pulling the paper out from the receptacle for letters still to be answered, and scanned it carefully once more. Spinsters… Her Grace the Duchess of Wedhamption wanted spinsters, and it was very possible that Bertram could oblige her. Landerby Manor would be stuffed to its ancient, worm-eaten rafters with scions of the nobility — he counted three amongst his own particular friends — which would provide plenty of opportunity for Bea to climb the ladder of society, and if her grace was to be there, even Lady Esther could not object.
At breakfast, therefore, he said to his mother, “When are you planning to call at Highwood Place to thank Lady Esther for her hospitality?”
“Today, I thought. It was not a ball, so one does not absolutely need to call the very next day, but neither was it amere dinner engagement. It would be a pleasing attention to a neighbour to call sooner rather than later. Why do you ask?”
“I shall come with you, if I may. I can sit on the box, so that you will not be crushed inside.”
“Oh… as to that, I shall only take Julia. Emily should rest after the exertions of last night, and Penelope is in disgrace for dancing three times with that Scottish fellow. He may be excessively handsome and charming and so forth, but he is neither betrothed to her nor likely to be, given his lack of fortune, and therefore not to be danced with more than twice, or better still, only once. It is not as if there had been any shortage of partners, and you are only sixteen, Penelope, and not even properly out yet.”
“Oh pooh,” Penelope said. “At an informal evening like that, no one counts dances, and besides, his cousin is a baron, he told me, so he is very eligible.”
“Your mother counted,” her father said, “and if Mr Alexander were himself a baron with an estate in good order and were to apply for your hand in… oh, two or three years, say, perhaps I might consider his suit, but until then, you will not dance with him or any other young man more than once. Bertram, why this ardour to call at Highwood? Has Miss Franklyn managed to infiltrate your heart?”
Bertram laughed. “Certainly not! However, her persistence is becoming annoying. It occurred to me that her objectives and mine might both be secured if I can obtain an invitation for her to Landerby Manor.”
“Where you will both be living under the same roof,” his mother said waspishly, “and she will be able to chip away at your resolve every hour of the day. It is madness, Bertram.”
“Give me credit for a little sense, Mother. She will have to agree to quit her pursuit of me before any invitations are issued.”
“She will agree to anything if it brings her closer to her aim,” his mother said darkly.
His father set down his coffee cup with a snap. “I am of Bertram’s mind in this, Jane. Bea Franklyn is not a perfect lady, by any means, but she has never struck me as sly or underhanded in any way. Let Bertram talk to her and see what may be achieved.”
***
Bea and Lady Esther had risen indulgently late, and so had only just begun the work of planning the Venetian breakfast when Hobbs came into their parlour.
“Beg pardon, my lady, but Mrs George Atherton is here, together with Miss Atherton and Mr Bertram Atherton. Are you at home?”
“Bertram?” Bea squeaked in astonishment.
“Naturally we are at home,” her stepmother said, with no more than a blink of surprise. “The terrace, I think, Hobbs. Theeasternterrace. The view over the shrubbery is so pleasantly green at this time of year. Bring suitable refreshments.” As soon as the butler had withdrawn, she turned to Bea excitedly. “This is a very good sign, Beatrice. You must be sure to capitalise on it this time. You will propose a walk in the gardens, and then lead him away from the house and into the shrubbery. I will come after you in a little while. Come, let us greet our guests.”
Bea said nothing. She was very happy to see Bertram, naturally, for what could be more pleasing than a man who pays a duty call at the very first opportunity? But a sleepless night and the prodding of her conscience had led her to the conclusion that she could never be comfortable trapping a man into marriage. She would pursue Bertram with every fibre of her being, butthere would be no disappearing into the shrubbery to trick him into a compromising kiss.
They met their visitors in the hall, and then out onto the terrace, where Father emerged from his study to join them. There was a slight breeze, and at first Mrs Atherton baulked at being out of doors at all, but Hobbs brought shawls for Bea and her stepmother, and the Atherton ladies were well-clad in stout pelisses, so it was deemed safe to venture forth.
For a while they all sat about decorously making polite conversation. The events of the evening before were gone over, congratulations offered and accepted for the success of the party, and there was a general air of complacency that so many people had gathered in one spot and yet no disaster had befallen them. Bea and Bertram were seated side by side, but said little, until Bertram said into a lull in the conversation, “Shall we all stroll about a little? What do you say, Miss Franklyn?”
That was a surprise indeed! Bea could only nod, while, one by one, the others demurred. “We shall admire your energy from our comfortable seats,” her father said, reaching for his wine glass.
Now Bea could not be comfortable. She knew perfectly well what her stepmother expected of her, but she could not… she absolutely could not do it. How unfair it would be to Bertram and what a dreadful start to married life to secure him by treachery. So they walked here and there, and he talked easily about nothing in particular, and she began to feel that in another minute or two she could profess to be feeling chilled and ask to return to the house.
