“Latin! Whatever for?”
“It is fascinating, Walter. Bertram is teaching me about future tenses at the moment.”
“Oh,Bertramis teaching you, is he? So this is just a clever way to win the heart of a bookish man like Bertram.”
“You malign me, Walter Atherton. I have no such plan. I simply like learning Latin, that is all.”
“What a strange, unaccountable girl you are, Bea.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Latin! Whatever next?”
26: An Unexpected Visitor
SEPTEMBER
Bea hurled herself into learning Latin with all the enthusiasm with which she had once chased after a husband. As soon as she rose in the morning, she was reading her primer, or one of the other books Bertram had brought. She ate her breakfast with a book propped in front of her, and then went straight to the library. Her father looked in from time to time, but there was no sound except the scratch of chalk on slate, or the whisper of pages being turned, so he left her to study until noon, when Bertram arrived. Even after the lesson, when her faithful tutor had long since left the house, she worked on until summoned by her stepmother for some tedious outing or other, or to sit about the saloon awaiting callers.
One afternoon, not long after Bertram had left, her stepmother came to find her. Bea was still working on some exercises Bertram had given her to do before the next day’slesson, and he had written out a short piece of his own composition for her to translate, so she was not pleased to be interrupted.
“What is it, Mama?”
“Did you not hear the carriage, Beatrice? We have a caller!”
Something in the tone of Mama’s voice alerted Bea’s senses. Was it possible… could it be… that Mama wasexcited?
“Do you wish me to change my gown?”
“No… no, you look well enough. A little pale, but that is no bad thing. A white complexion set against your hair is a striking combination. Ah… so much chalk dust, but it will not show on that gown. Come now. We will wait in the Gold Saloon.”
Then Bea knew that the caller must be someone very important. One of Mama’s grand relations, perhaps. Not the duke himself, but perhaps the Marquess of Ramsey, his heir. Or Charity Ramsey, the marchioness! Although what such people could be doing in this remote corner of Yorkshire was beyond her.
Hobbs and two footmen were scurrying around in the Gold Saloon, making minute adjustments to cushions and small tables, laying out drinks and plates for refreshments, and throwing open the shutters, for the room was seldom used. A housemaid rushed in with a vase of flowers.
Mama walked serenely through the bustle. “He is with your father just now, but we must be ready when he comes through. We will sit here, I think. Your needlework, Beatrice. Your work basket is over there.”
She picked up her own delicate piece of embroidery, arranged her skirts and placidly began work.
Bea did as she was bid, but her mind was racing. Someone with her father? Someone wanting to pay his addresses? Not Bertram, surely… her heart gave a little jump of pleasure at the thought, but she squashed it at once. Bertram would not behere to offer for her, she knew that perfectly well. That strange visit from him and his friends at Landerby was not a serious proposal, and now that he had escaped, he would never repeat it. Had he not told her over and over that he had no intention of marrying? Sometimes she thought she saw a certain light in his eyes which would have given her hope if she had let it, but she dared not. Bertram would never offer for her and she had promised not to pursue him, so that was the end of that.
Yet if not Bertram, the visit was a mystery. “Who is it?” she whispered.
Mama whispered back, “The Marquess of Embleton. Oh, Beatrice! You are going to be a duchess!”
Bea was too shocked to speak. A marquess! A future duke! Of course it was gratifying, but— Oh, dear heaven, how could she possibly refuse a future duke?
Common sense intervened. He could not conceivably be here to offer for her. She had hardly spent any time with him at Landerby, and he had given no indication that he was interested in her, or in marriage at all. He had hidden himself away in the garden to avoid the purposeful pursuit of Miss Grayling and her friends. No, his presence here must be for entirely different reasons that had nothing to do with her. Mama had misunderstood, that was all.
At these reassuring thoughts, her racing heart calmed a little. She opened her work basket, retrieved a crumpled piece of embroidery and settled down to pretend to sew. Only the little current of disquiet inside her refused to subside — what if Mama was right? What on earth was she to do if a future duke were to offer for her?
It was only twenty minutes by the clock, but to Bea the waiting was endless. Then, carriage wheels were heard on the drive outside. Mama was up in a moment, rushing to the window in a manner which would have earned Bea a stinging rebuke.
“He is leaving!” Mama said, breathing heavily. “How can he leave without even speaking to you? It is unconscionable! Whatever has John said to turn him away like that?”
Bea had never heard Mama refer to her husband as anything other than‘Mr Franklyn’or‘your father’, so to hear his Christian name used told her more clearly than anything else how agitated Mama was. But to Bea, there was nothing but relief. He was not going to offer for her! Either he was here on other business altogether, or Papa had deterred him. Perhaps he had told Lord Embleton the story of her birth, and he wanted nothing more to do with her. That would be an unexpected benefit to her origins!
Voices in the hall, then on the steps outside. The sound of a carriage door closing, a cry of‘Away!’and the carriage set off down the drive. Moments later, her father came into the saloon.
“What have youdone?”Mama cried. “Why did you let him go?”
“He returns tomorrow,” Papa said. “There is no cause for alarm, my dear. All is well.”
