“Oh, you need not pity me. I shall go on admirably, I assure you, but I have given up trying to find a husband. I have reached the conclusion, which I ought to have seen years ago, that I am very bad at it and would only make a terrible mistake. Take Lord Grayling, for instance. You tried to warn me against him, but I would not listen.”
“He has a great deal of charm,” Bertram said. “It is very easy to be drawn in by such a man.”
“Is heverywicked?” she said, turning innocent eyes on him.
A difficult question to answer without delving into the matter of seductions and mistresses. “Well… he does not always behave as he ought.”
“And I foolishly went into the garden alone with him, but you and Mr Fielding heroically came to my rescue.”
That made Bertram laugh. “There was nothing heroic about it.”
Franklyn, who had been listening intently while steadily working his way through a plate of ham and cold beef, laid down his knife and fork at this point. “I think it was in fact rather heroic, Atherton. You were looking after my daughter better than my wife or me. We are both grateful to you.”
“And so am I,” Bea said, smiling at him so warmly that he felt himself flushing. “I was very cross at the time, but I understand now that you were protecting me from… Lord Grayling’s wickedness. His misbehaviour, as you put it, which I was toostupid to consider. No, no, do not protest. Iwasstupid, but no more. I am leaving off all thought of a husband, and will devote my life to ablatives and vocatives and gerunds and deponent verbs and the subjunctive — whatever that is. I shall need to obtain a new primer, but that should not be difficult. Will you help me, Bertram? Answer my beginner’s questions and correct my pronunciation, that sort of thing?”
“Of course! I should be delighted… if Mr Franklyn permits?”
“I have no objection. We will consult with Lady Esther as we wend our way home to devise a suitable schedule.”
“May I not devise my own schedule, Papa?”
“No, because your stepmother will still expect you to receive guests and pay morning calls with her, and there will be domestic duties to attend to. Latin merely replaces the netting of purses, Bea, it should not consume every waking hour. And it would not surprise me if her ladyship still harbours other plans for you, in the matter of the acquisition of a husband.”
“I have given up all of that, Papa.”
“But your stepmother has not. You may have evaded the dire prospect of Bath, but if you will not seek out a husband yourself, he must seek you. You may be thinking that your stepmother is taking an unusually long time to dress this morning. You are mistaken, however. She is already dressed, and fully engaged in making lists of suitable young men to invite to Highwood Place this autumn. The house will be full to the rafters of eligible suitors, if she has her way.”
Bea’s face fell so dramatically that Bertram’s heart twisted in the most painful way. He had managed to protect her from Grayling, but he could do nothing to protect her from her own stepmother.
But Franklyn only laughed at her chagrin. “Not to worry, I give you my hearty support to reject them all. In fact, you may greet every one as he arrives with the words,‘Welcome toHighwood Place, and no, I shall not marry you.’Or perhaps that should be,‘I shall not even consider a proposal unless spoken in Latin.’And you should say all that in Latin, too. That should deter all but the hardiest souls.”
“All gentlemen learn Latin at school, Papa.”
“So they do. Not being educated as a gentleman myself, I had forgotten that.”
Bertram chuckled. “I have a better test. No suitor will be considered unless he can propose in the form of an original poem in Latin, using dactylic, iambic, Aeolic, and anapestic metres, one verse for each.”
“Oh, excellent!” Franklyn said. “That sounds sufficiently formidable an obstacle. Could you do that?”
“I could scrape something together, but it would not be very good. The only person I know who can produce high quality Latin poetry of any form is the Marquess of Embleton.”
“Then I am perfectly safe,” Bea said happily.
Bertram instantly resolved to begin work on a suitable poem. Surely that would convince her to change her mind about marriage?
***
Bertram was relieved to be at home again, a place where he could hide in his library and consider his future. For once, he had no urge to retreat into the past, for the present was heavy with delicious possibilities. He had never before understood the wonder of being in love. He must have read about it and heard a thousand different interpretations of it, yet the nature of the experience had been beyond his comprehension. But now, all he could think about was Bea. Even as the carriage drew up at Westwick Heights, as the steps were let down, as he steppedonto the drive, his eyes turned to her, unwilling to lose even one second of that precious sight.
His whole family came out onto the steps to greet the Franklyns and thank them for conveying Bertram home. The Franklyns would not stay, however, being keen to reach their own home. As soon as Bertram’s boxes were unloaded, the steps were folded away, the door was shut and the coachman urged his team into motion.
“Goodbye for now, Bertram,” Bea said with a cheerful smile and a wave, her curls bouncing as she leaned out of the lowered carriage window. “I shall see you tomorrow at noon. Don’t be late!”
“I will be there,” he said, laughing. The carriage rolled away down the drive, Bea waving energetically until a turn of the drive hid her from view.
“Come inside, dear,” his mother said. “Goodness, you look pale! Have you been at your books for the whole month? A little fresh air every day, if there is no dampness about, is not at all harmful. I expect you have been eating too much rich food, so I have asked Mrs Place to boil some chickens for you, and prepare some clear soup. That will do you all the good in the world.”
“Excellent. I am very tired of turtle and lobster.”
