Page 37 of A Foolish Endeavor

Gilbert stood, laughing, and the two walked back to the house. “Indeed. And I shall charm her so much she shall forget she ever wished to dance a second with Kirkpatrick.”

Shortly after Carter left, Gilbert was relaxing in his room, perusing a book on mathematics he had found in the library. It featured not only mathematical equations to solve but also several pages on geometry and some trigonometry. Gilbert lost track of time working out the examples, and it wasn’t until a footman knocked on the door that he realized it was nearly half past three.

“This came for you, sir,” the footman said, holding out a silver salver upon which a slim letter was placed.

Gilbert took it, thanked the young man, and set aside his math book to read it, grateful to see it was not another message from Charlotte’s husband, Frederick, badgering him to return. The handwriting upon the paper was in his father’s hand, which surprised Gilbert, as Evan had written once already to send well wishes following the riding accident. Pleased to receive another letter so soon, Gilbert was optimistic it would be filled with nothing but local news and gossip. After all, his father had fully endorsed his coming to town for the Season and had given him some money to enjoy himself, as well. What else could it be about? He opened the packet and read.

Son,

I write to urge you to return home as soon as you are able to endure the journey. I am hopeful your recovery has gone well and you suffer but little remaining discomfort from your fall. If that is the case, I would ask you to cut short your planned pleasure visit in London and return to Clayton House at once. There has been an incident involving your brother with a woman of shoddy reputation in Doddington which has brought an unhappy sheen of scandal to our family name. I shall not go into details, and, be assured, I am handling it; however, the incident is being much talked of at present.

It would help take townspeople’s minds off of this unsavory bit of gossip if you were to return, pass your Bishop’s examination, and begin making sermons from the pulpit at Clayton House Parish. Such an example of piety and good manners would only help us put this sorry incident behind us all.

In addition, your sister will soon give birth. She told me only the other day how she longs to see you.

Write immediately as to your condition and I shall send our carriage for you, unless Dorothea remains in London and is willing to transport you in the Gillingham rig.

Yours, etc.,

Evan Kendall

Gilbert stared at the letter a long while. Then he placed it in the fireplace and lit a match to it, watching it smoke, then catch fire, curl up, and quickly turn to ash. It gave him a considerable amount of satisfaction to see it burn. He knew he must respond as his father would not take it well if he ignored the summons.

He went to the desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. Being right-handed, the same side as his injury, Gilbert knew his handwriting would be quite poor, but that would only add weight to his message, which was as follows:

Dear Father,

Thank you kindly for your letter. I am shocked and grieved to hear word that Miles has brought even a shadow of scandal or shame to the family reputation. I wish to join you all, but, as you can see from my poor handwriting, my shoulder is nowhere near ready to endure a long and jostling journey on the road from town to Doddington. Indeed, I am feeling considerable pain in my attempt to write you now, and must keep this missive short.

Know that I hope to be fully recovered within a month at the most, and will hurry home to do what I can.

Your son,

Gilbert

Gilbert carefully folded the paper, sealed it with wax, and wrote the direction on it for Clayton House. Then he rang for a footman, handed it to him to be posted, then returned to his mathematics book with a sigh of relief. His pleading for more recovery time should give him plenty of days left to woo Miss Wells, secure her acceptance to his offer of marriage, and return to Clayton House with a wealthy, beautiful fiancée.

Chapter Thirty

By the evening of the ball, Gilbert was feeling so much better that he wondered if perhaps he might be able to dance, after all. However, Dorothea made him promise not to, as he must not risk reinjury. He reluctantly agreed, even as he wondered how he was going to manage to find enough time to speak to Miss Wells. She would likely have a full dance card, and where would that leave him?

The event was hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Longview, an exceedingly wealthy businessman who had managed to work his way into acceptance from the ton after purchasing a beautiful estate in Lancashire. Even Dorothea approved of the family, calling them quite elegant and good company. Entering the Longviews’ impressive home, Gilbert and Dorothea greeted their hosts, then immediately proceeded to the enormous hall where the dancing was already underway. Gilbert thought he had never seen such high ceilings in his life outside of a cathedral and was duly impressed with the good taste he saw all about him. He noted a few pieces of sculpture and thought to himself that once he and Diana were wed, he might wish to journey to the continent and begin collecting art. After all, as the son-in-law of the owner of a wealthy estate, Gilbert would have few duties, other than to produce a son or two and wait for his wife to inherit. Yes, becoming an art collector held a great deal of appeal. He would, he was certain, be quite good at it.

“Gilbert!” a voice called, breaking him out from his musings. He looked up to see Carter approach, and, on his arm, Miss Mary Landry. The two were just coming off the dance floor.

“Good evening, Carter,” Gilbert said and, with a bow to Mary, “Good evening to you, Miss Landry, you are looking well this evening. Did you just dance the last with poor old Carter here? I would be happy to ask you, myself, but I am not fully healed from my accident, and fear tonight I shall simply stalk about the room, admiring others and feeling sorry for myself.”

“My mother and I were so grieved to hear of your accident, Mr. Kendall,” Mary said. “However, I am pleased to see that you are recovering well enough to attend tonight’s ball. Mr. Milbourn has told me of his many visits to see you during your convalescence.”

“Indeed, he was most attentive. I could not ask for a more loyal friend. As you well know, he is always one to take pity on the unfortunate.”

There was an awkward pause and Gilbert realized with horror how his comment was likely being interpreted by the homely Miss Landry. He stammered on in a rush, “I refer to his reputation at University, you understand. If you had only seen him back then. He was the first to defend those of the lower classes who frequently took abuse from members of the Noble Commoner ranks.”

“Having suffered a bit from the likes of them myself, yes, I did my best to treat all with equal respect,” Carter said.

“His good nature does not surprise me. Though, after all,” Mary added, “it is only wise to be kind and courteous to all whom one may meet, do you not agree? For one never knows when a family’s circumstance may change for the better or worse, as my own family’s situation proves. I may now call myself the daughter of an estate-owning gentleman, whereas, before his inheritance of our estate, my papa was merely a wealthy businessman. His was an enviable financial position, to be sure, but not worthy of attention from the illustrious ton. Even now, some of the more elite members of society barely do more than politely tolerate us. Perhaps in three or four generations more, we shall be fully accepted.”

Thinking of his sister, Dorothea, Gilbert laughed. “Such morals do you credit, Miss Landry. I am certain no one would ever accuse you of being a snob. And, I hope, none would say it of me.” To this, Miss Landry only gave him a cool smile, which made him feel quite uncomfortable. After a moment, he continued, “Will you please excuse me? I am attempting to find an acquaintance. I am sure we will speak again later this evening.” He bowed and hurried away.