They had reached the house, and Cilla could say nothing more without the servants hearing. Livy told her, “I understand. Do not worry, dearest. We shall work out a plan.” As they stepped inside, Livy looked up the stairs, where another night-shirted figure in a nightcap looked down from the landing. “Pa! I’m sorry you were disturbed.”
“Virginia sent a note to say you would be sleeping at her place,” her father said, frowning. “Why are you home? And what was all that fuss outside.”
“Cilla does not want to sleep at Aunt Ginny’s,” Livy explained. “When Jasper tried to drag her inside, she punched him the way you taught us. I am certain she has a good reason, for she is not a foolish girl. But she is very tired, Pa, and so am I. Can we all sleep before we talk?”
Pa studied Cilla for a long moment. The poor dear. She was leaning her weight against Livy and the occasional shiver ran through her. Reaction to the tension of the past minutes, Livy supposed. Pa must have been able to see that Cilla was near the end of her strength, for he nodded. “We shall discuss this tomorrow. Virginia is not going to be happy, but Cilla, if Jasper behaved in a way you found offensive—and I must suppose he did, if you and Livy both say so—then you did the right thing coming home. Olivia, well done.”
With that, he turned and plodded away upstairs, leaving Livy to shepherd Cilla to her room.
*
Cilla
Cilla did notsleep well, and Livy was heavy-eyed, too, when they came down to breakfast in the late morning. Papa was waiting for them. “Have something to eat, girls,” he said, “then tell me what upset you.”
But before Cilla could explain the plot against her and Livy, Aunt Ginny arrived, and went straight on the attack. “Horace, how can you be sitting there at breakfast with those wicked girls after the way they have treated me?”
Papa nodded at the footmen who stood by the sideboards and jerked his head toward the door. Only after they left did he speak. “Well, now, Virginia, I have not yet heard what happened last night, but I am glad you are here. Come and sit down. Together, we may get to the bottom of it.”
Bother. Cilla had guessed Aunt Ginny would be over here as soon as she was awake, but usually she did not appear until well after noon. Should Cilla disclose everything she had learned in front of her aunt? She feared that Aunt Ginny was an accomplice to Jasper’s plot, and Livy—when Cilla told her the whole—agreed that their aunt would approve of their cousin’s plans even if she wasn’t part of them.
“What happened last night,” Aunt Ginny declared, as she took the chair next to Papa, “is that, after everything I have done for them, your daughters refused to stay the night at my house, and then that little harridan—” she pointed at Cilla—“Yes, you Lucilla, looking as if butter would not melt in your mouth. Lucilla Wintergreen viciously attacked my son. He could have been crippled! Or worse!”
“Now, now, Virginia,” Papa said. “Young Jasper should not have tried to manhandle one of my daughters. I daresay a tinysprite like my Lucilla can’t do much harm to a big fellow like Jasper. Now if my Olivia had hit him…!” He chuckled.
Aunt Ginny puffed up like a bantam, and if looks could kill, Papa would have been dead on the spot. “Manhandled, indeed! Jasper was only trying to help Lucilla inside. He has a great fondness for her, and he was insulted that she refused to stay under his roof.”
“If Jasper is fond of Lucilla, it is the first I’ve heard of it,” Papa commented. “Have you had your hot chocolate yet, Virginia? Olivia, pour your aunt a cup of hot chocolate.”
Livy obeyed, crossing to the sideboard that held cups and hot beverages. She put the poured cup in front of Aunt Ginny then followed up with a plate of delicacies from the assortment of foods on the second sideboard.
Meanwhile, Aunt Ginny had been waxing forth about how much Jasper admired “his little cousin”, including some quite unlikely examples of complimentary things he had said about her. “Indeed,” said Aunt Ginny as Livy resumed her seat, “I believe that my dear boy is quite ready to settle down and take Lucilla to wife.”
“He wants Cilla’s dowry,” Livy observed.
“That is a terrible thing to say,” Aunt Ginny declared. “Olivia, you should be ashamed of yourself, standing in the way of your sister’s happiness, and poisoning her against her cousin. Lucilla, you have always been fond of Jasper, have you not?”
If ever there was a time for Cilla to speak her thoughts instead of the polite lies that made people happy, this was it. “No, Aunt Ginny. I am fond of you and of my girl cousins. Not Jasper. He has always been unkind to all of us girls, and has only ever noticed us to play mean tricks on us. I do not for a moment think that he wishes to marry and settle down.”
She took a deep breath while Aunt Ginny protested, and assured Papa that Cilla had taken offense at good-naturedteasing. “Boys don’t understand how delicate girls are,” Aunt Ginny said, “but there. Lucilla will learn to ignore their jests.”
“Papa, last night, someone I know overheard my cousin’s friends talking about Jasper wanting my dowry. He is prepared to force me, if necessary, to get your agreement to the wedding. Another of his friends plans to do the same to Livy. I shall not marry him, Papa.”
“No, Lucilla, you will not,” Papa agreed, even as Aunt Ginny protested that Cilla was mistaken, or the eavesdropper was lying.
“Horace,” she said to her brother, “you cannot believe this!”
“Virginia, when I paid off your son’s debts after Christmas, I told him it was for the last time. I bought your townhouse so he could no longer mortgage it to fund his excesses, and I told him to stop gambling and look after his estates. Instead, he has been back at the tables, putting you and your daughters at risk of disaster. I suppose he knows I shall not let you and the girls starve or go homeless, but if you do not want to be a poor relation continuing to live off my charity, Virginia Marple, rein in your son.”
Aunt Ginny burst into tears. “How can you talk like that to me, Horace? Your daughter would be lucky to marry a Marple. A viscount, Horace! And her nothing more than the daughter of a merchant. And what was her mother? A farmer’s daughter! She could be a viscountess.”
“Lucilla, if you marry a wastrel like Jasper Marple, you’ll not have a penny of your dowry,” Papa said to her. “It would be like dropping coin into the ocean. Useless. He’d see you starve rather than miss a horse race or a card game.”
“You are so unkind,” Aunt Ginny complained, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“I have said my last word on the subject, Virginia. Tell your son I shall never give my consent to a marriage between himand Lucilla, and no consent means no dowry. Remind him that, when I said I would not pay his debts again, I meant it.”
He applied himself to his breakfast.
