“No, no, we can hide him in the attics,” Penelope said. “There is so much lumber up there that even Bea Franklyn could not discover him.”
“The dressing-up box!” Julia said. “We could cover him with a mountain of damask hoop dresses and moth-eaten fur tippets.”
“The cellar would be better,” Lucas said. “Somewhere between the pipes of port and the apple barrels. There are plenty of dark corners there, and he is not large, so he can squeeze into a small space. You are not afraid of a few spiders, are you, brother?”
“Very droll,” Bertram said, joining in the general merriment. “I am not afraid of Bea Franklyn, certainly.”
“Perhaps you should be,” his father said wryly. “She is a very single-minded young lady. Look how she wound Walter around her thumb.”
“He must have had some affection for her,” Bertram said. “A man cannot be forced to marry where he has no inclination for it, after all.”
“Can he not?” his father said dryly. “You could always run away to your Aunt Lochmaben.”
“Scotland is not far enough to keep Bea Franklyn at bay,” Lucas said at once.
Their wit flowed for some time on the subject, until Carter entered again.
“The Lady Esther Franklyn and Miss Franklyn have called, madam,” he said.
The girls shrieked with laughter, but Mother said placidly, “Show them into the drawing room, Carter.”
“I have already taken the liberty of doing so, madam.”
“Well, Bertram?” Mother said, with a wry smile. “The girls and I will receive them, but you need not, if you are not so inclined.”
“I would not miss it for the world,” Bertram said, smiling.
“We will protect you, brother,” Emily whispered to him. “She shall not harass you.”
“Thank you, sister,” he whispered back gravely. Emily was such a timid creature that forthright females like Bea Franklyn terrified her. Bertram was tolerably confident that no female, no matter how forthright, could puncture his masculine defences.
They all trooped out of the library into the hall, the girls still giggling and being shushed by Mother, and thence into the drawing room. Lady Esther stood regally in the centre of the room, her manner as composed as if this were nothing but a routine morning call.
“My dear Mrs Atherton… Mr Atherton… we came at once to congratulate you on your unexpected good fortune.”
“We do not regard it as a matter for congratulations,” Mother said sharply. “It is a piece ofillfortune for all concerned, as far asI can see. The earl has lost his wife, his children are all rendered illegitimate, Walter has lost his inheritanceandhis future wife—” Here she paused to glare at Bea. “—and allwehave acquired is a burden we never wanted. Pray be seated, Lady Esther. May I offer you some refreshment?”
“Thank you. Most kind. My dear Mrs Atherton, the earldom may seem like a great burden, but it is also a great honour, is it not?” She frowned a little, her aristocratic forehead wrinkling ever so slightly. “Myfamily have always regarded it so. An honour and a privilege, although of course the circumstances in this case are most distressing, naturally. How do the family at Corland bear up under this blow?”
The two ladies sat and fell into the sort of restrained conversation typical of two near neighbours who have little in common. Bertram’s mother came from the sort of gentry stock more at ease with the local parson than a scion of a ducal family, and although she could move with ease through any level of society, there was something of reserve in Lady Esther’s manner that prevented real intimacy.
Bertram chose to remain standing, but near the door so that he could beat a retreat if the occasion demanded it. Lucas chose a seat by the window, watching the drama unfolding with a little smile on his face, while their father stood beside the fireplace. The three girls, very much in protective mode, waited until Miss Franklyn sat down, then immediately surrounded her. That did not deter her in the least. To Bertram’s amusement, she watched him steadily for two or three minutes, then rose and crossed the room to stand beside him.
“Well, Mr Atherton, I am very sorry for Walter and all his family, but this is a fine thing for you.”
“Is it?” he said. “I cannot see it, myself. There is distress on all sides, and no one can be happy about that.”
“No, it is very sad indeed, but you will be an earl one day. Surely you must be at least a little gratified by that.”
“Why should I be? My life was planned out, Miss Franklyn, and I was contented with the future before me. Now those plans are in disarray, and I do not know quite what will replace them.” He hesitated, wondering how much he dared to say, but with Bea Franklyn, there was no point in subtlety. “On one matter only am I sure of my future, and that is that marriage will have no part in it. I have two younger brothers and a whole platoon of cousins, and therefore have no need to marry to secure the succession.”
She smiled at him. “You are quite sure of that, are you?”
“Quite sure, Miss Franklyn. I tell you this so that there will be no misunderstanding between us. Your father wrote to me, you see, to tell me that you had jilted Walter now that he cannot be earl, and were set on marrying me instead. I should not like you to waste any effort on trying to get me to the altar, for you are doomed to fail.”
Her smile widened, and she whispered, “I relish a challenge, Mr Atherton.”
There was no dealing with such obstinacy. He made her a small bow. “You will excuse me, I am sure. I have an awkward passage of Horace to transcribe.”
