“Dragon woman!” The king threw down the scroll in a fit of temper.
The concubine ignored the scroll where it lay. She wanted no part in any message sent by the mighty empress to her king.
Also, the concubine could not read.
—The Concubine and Her King.Unpublished MS.
The Dowager Marchioness of Chalfont’s answer was brought to Bledsoe Park by a raven-haired, green-eyed paragon of virility. He had come from London, but he looked as if he had descended from Olympus.
The paragon announced he was Lady Chalfont’s secretary. He carried two sealed letters from her ladyship, but only one was for Lord Ashthorpe to open and read.
The paragon then rode off on his white stallion, and the tightness of his pantaloons drew every female member of the household to the stable yard as he left, and their exclamations of delight and awe, along with their giggles, could be heard allthe way in the earl’s study as Henry broke the seal and read the letter his aunt meant for him.
Hup, hup, Henry!
I will not call you Ashthorpe. You were not Ashthorpe when we met, after all. You were a pale youth, & I was a brazen chit with no money, no family, & no connections who had just caused the scandal of the century by daring to make your mother’s brother fall in love with me.
Oh, my dear, dear Stubby. So eager to please & one of my best husbands. I could have made something of him if we’d only had more time together.
Speaking of which—you are behind time, Henry.
I stupidly thought it a kindness to let you stew alone in the countryside, but now years have flown by, & I have no notion why I thought you might sort this out on your own!
My feelings (yes, I have feelings) are almost fully recovered from the bruising they received over a quarter of a century ago when you didn’t ask my advice on your first marriage. You must have known I would counsel against it.
I prefer to find fault with members of your sex rather than my own, but the truth will out. Henry, your bride was beautiful, rich, & a right cunt.
But I waste ink in telling you what you already know. To business?—
I have read through your specifications & will draw up a list of suitable candidates. However, one good turn asks another.
My secretary Davies—soon to be my former secretary as he is to stand for Parliament & he will be voted in, mark my words—brings with him an additional letter.This one you yourself must carry to Sir John D’Oyly at Sutton Hall, his country seat.
You are to await Sir John’s reply, no matter how long it takes. Great matters of state are afoot. Discretion is our watchword, &c.
I’m sure I needn’t tell you to bring riding clothes. Sir John has a fine stable, & I remember you were once quite the horseman. You might pass some of your time seeing how the land lies, particularly around the village of Much Wemby.
Once you have received Sir John’s answer, you are to return to Bledsoe Park. Further instructions will come from me in due time.
Despite your rather dreary epistolary style, I was entertained by your account of your granddaughter asking you to marry. Children ask for all kinds of goosy things—a dozen ices or a ride in a balloon—& one would be wise to ignore most of those requests.
Still, I must thank the child for compelling you to write to me. I will take the matter in hand immediately, & soon you will be some other woman’s problem, & I will no longer need to worry over you.
(Do not allow yourself to be overset by conceit. I worry over all my male relations without adequate feminine supervision.)
I was also amused by what you said about little Wilhelmina sending a letter to the author of her favorite stories, wanting to find him & convince him to write another book. What an interesting & provoking child she must be.
And, I hope, a curious one. Curiosity is one quality in which you have always been sadly lacking, Henry. But that is true of so many men.
Still, try to cure this deficiency. Even at your age, it isnot too late. I am your elder & if I were not already perfect, I would certainly try to amend myself.
Send word once you are back at Bledsoe Park?—
Yr. officious &c,
Lady Chalfont.
PS I am still waiting to hear you have effected a reconciliation between a certain stubborn fool & his son. You once told me not to poke my nose into the matter, but my extremely small store of patience has been sorely taxed. Hup, hup, Henry.
