An Impetuous Miss Page 4

  “This was delivered this morning, as well,” Uncle Martin said as he handed her a bouquet of new roses along with a card bearing Mr. Hazelforth's name. As Cat took the flowers, she noted with a rush of mixed feelings that the thorns had been carefully removed.

  Soon after, the butler announced that Mr. Bag-smith was awaiting them in the library. As Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin arose to accompany her, Cat took Eveline's hand. “Please come along, too. For all my independence, I know I may be needing your advice before too long, so I want you to be as familiar with my affairs as I am.” The other woman, gratified at this confidence, rose with a smile, and the two entered the library arm in arm.

  There they found a remarkable scene. An exasperated Mr. Bagsmith, who resembled nothing so much as newly boiled lobster, so red in face and bent over was he, was attempting to wrest a large envelope away from Brutus who had run behind the desk with it. As soon as Mr. Bagsmith's back was turned, Caesar helped himself to more papers from the solicitor's satchel. Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin began trying without much success to confine one or the other of the mischievous scamps, while Cat added her pleas to the general hubbub. If the truth were known, though, the naughty dogs paid as little attention to their mistress, who was notoriously lenient with them, as they did to anyone else. Finally after much coaxing and offering of treats, the two were finally captured and taken away, wagging their stubby tails, blithely ignoring any and all attempts to shame them.

  “Ahem,” Mr. Bagsmith began, much disgruntled, “I hope you will not mind the chewed corners, Miss Mansard. I can assure you that it will not affect their legality, although much of their aesthetic quality is now lost.” Mr. Bagsmith prided himself on the excellent penmanship of his clerks and he stared down at the tattered documents dismally.

  “I am very sorry for the trouble, Mr. Bagsmith,” Cat began, although the smile she tried to hide belied this statement. “Do let us begin.”

  Mr. Bagsmith made a great show of arranging his various papers, but finally cleared his throat and looked up at Cat. “You know to some extent, I believe, the terms of your grandmother's will. That is, you are her only heir and are to come into the estate upon reaching this, your twentieth birthday. There are, however, some rather unusual details which she wished to have kept from you until this day, Miss Mansard.”

  Cat's mind raced. What could the will hold of which she was not already aware? Uncle Martin and Aunt Leah looked puzzled as well.

  Mr. Bagsmith, basking in their attention, went on, “It was your grandmother's desire that if you had reached your twentieth birthday without having wed, other conditions to your inheriting would come into effect. These are outlined both in a codicil and in this letter which she wished you to read in the event you were still unmarried.” Here he paused and handed Cat a sealed letter.

  Cat sat stunned, holding the letter in her hands for several moments. Then she slowly opened it, tears starting in her eyes at the sight of the familiar slanting handwriting:

  ****

  My dearest Cat,

  What your thoughts are today I cannot tell, but I can assure you with all my love that what I do is for your benefit. I have often pondered whether I did right to let you grow up so independent in thought and action, for though I know this suits your nature best, I have feared you will incur the censure of society. Also, it is clear that you may be overly content with your own company to the extent that you will not seek out acquaintanceships that will lead to marriage. I know your general opinion of the world, my dear, but let me assure you that somewhere exists a partner who will cherish you for your true worth and one whom you can cherish in return.

  Lest you miss this best part of life, I have laid down some strictures, which I hope you will not resent too much (though I can picture with some apprehension what your first reaction will be):

  First, as you are not likely to find a mate in the library at Sparrowell Hall, you will spend the Season each year in London until you are married. Yes, even until you are old and gray, although I doubt very much it will come to that.

  Second, as I know your nature as well as anyone, I require that you offer proofs to my solicitor on a regular basis that you are indeed taking part in the doings of society by attending such balls, routs and other invitations as come your way.

  Third, should you fail in regard to either of these requirements, you will be enjoined to marry whomsoever is deemed most fit by my solicitor or forfeit all claim on your inheritance, but for £1,500 per annum.

  Believe me, Catherine, that I know best and, however heartless I must now seem, wish only for your happiness. I have lived long, known both love and loneliness, and pray that you will find the former.

  All my love,

  Alice Mansard

  ****

  The others had watched with curiosity turning to concern, as Cat's expression changed from interest to petulance to shock. Once she was finished reading she rose and walked deliberately from the room without saying a word or responding in any way to their questioning looks.

  From the library, Cat proceeded directly to the grounds and soon lost herself among the paths as she wildly surveyed her new and disagreeable condition. Cat had never before thought of her grandmother in angry terms, and found she could not, even now, but railed inwardly against fate in general. She had so looked forward to the independence and liberty she had long assumed today would bring her. Now she would be more firmly controlled and faced with more serious consequences for untoward behavior than ever before. How could Gran have done such a thing?

  The very thought of spending her favorite time of year in London was depressing, to say nothing of the disagreeable company she would be forced to keep. And how could she curb her behavior enough to even be invited anyplace more than once? Then Cat saw the shrewdness of her grandmother's strictures: she must school herself in propriety, learn to control herself, and quickly adopt the manners preferred by society, or forfeit the home she loved, for she must surely refuse to wed some stranger chosen by Mr. Bagsmith! The idea of marrying at all, when she had sworn many times, and often in public, that such a thing would never be, was humiliating! Surely her pride would never recover.

  Cat was downcast by more than just hurt pride and the surface conditions prescribed by the will, however. She had thought that, by making her the sole heir, Gran had trusted her. And yet, as Cat mentally reviewed her behavior over the last several years, even at Cecily's wedding, she could see that, to some degree, her grandmother's concern was well warranted. Without more discipline and at least an attempt to conform to society's strictures, the day must surely come when she would have offended most of her acquaintance. Though Cat enjoyed her solitude, she was not prepared to be entirely a recluse.

  As Cat wandered, stunned and confused at the news the day had brought, the weather changed to reflect her inner turmoil. She had come to the edge of the land overlooking the rocky coast as the once blue sky began to cloud over and darken. The wind came up chillingly and a drenching rain began to fall. Soon Cat was wet through, her fine muslin dress clinging and hair curling damply about her face. Behind her came the sound of quick footsteps and she put her face in her hands. Poor Uncle Martin must have ventured into this foul weather to seek bring her home.

  “Miss Mansard, come at once into this copse and take some shelter!” Cat was shocked to hear Mr. Hazelforth's voice. What must he think now to see her in such a state? She felt his hand take her arm and guide her to the nearby stand of trees. There, Cat realized to her deep chagrin that her wet gown now clung most revealingly to her form, and she quickly crossed her arms over her bosom in a futile attempt at modesty.

  “Here, take my coat,” Hazelforth offered and he draped it over her shoulders. Although it, too, was wet quite through, Cat took comfort in concealment, clutching the lapels of the deep blue superfine well up to her chin as she shuddered with wretched embarrassment. This was surely the worst day in a bad life! Then, when she turned to thank him, she was even more chagrined to
encounter the sight of Hazelforth in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. Through the dampened fabric she could clearly see the delineation of his well-muscled form and even an intimation of flesh-tones. She could only conjecture with dismay how much of her own rosiness might have been revealed through the even thinner muslin.

  “Your family and Miss Bartlett are concerned, Miss Catherine,” he broke in after a moment. “They were just setting out to find you when I came by to take my leave of you. Here, wipe your face on my handkerchief.” Cat did so, sniffing back her tears with an unseemly gulp. If he were to begin teasing her now, she reflected darkly, she was quite sure she would do him some bodily harm. Fortunately, however, Hazelforth stood silently by and restrained himself from making any comment or inquiry while she struggled to regain her composure as best she could.

  While Hazelforth stood watching Cat trying desperately to recover herself, teasing her was the farthest thing from his mind. As the trees above dripped down on her pitiful form, it was all he could do to resist the urge to take her into his arms and comfort her like a small child. He found this impulse altogether mystifying. He usually regarded the emotional excesses of the opposite sex with disdain or, at best, bewildered amusement— never with such commiseration as he was now experiencing.

  He did not know what exactly it was that had upset her, but from the looks on the faces of her family, he was sure it must be a matter of some enormity. As she struggled to contain her tears, he could not help but admire her. In spite of her wet nose and glistening eyes, he thought she looked altogether charming—although he was fairly certain that would not be her own assessment of her appearance. Moreover, he was equally aware that a girl of her spirit and pride must be chagrined for him to have discovered that there was a soft, vulnerable side to her prickly nature.

  “The rain has let up a little,” he finally said. “We must take advantage of it and get you indoors again before you take a chill.”

  As they made their silent way down the path, the clouds did begin to part a little and some warmth returned. Just before they were within view of the Hall, Hazelforth paused. “You offered me your hand in friendship, I believe, some days past. I do not know the nature of your concerns, Miss Mansard, but if you ever have need, be assured that you may depend on that friendship. I will be leaving the district tomorrow morning, but I will call before I depart, if I may, to assure myself that no harm has come of this wetting.”

  Cat finally turned to smile wryly up at him, “It is no great problem, Mr. Hazelforth. My headstrong response to having my way thwarted is, like King Lear, to cast myself into the throes of a tempest. But I thank you for your concern and civility—and your restraint. I know I must make a tempting target for some jest or another.”

  “Indeed, Miss Catherine, you misjudge me,” he said in a low voice, for they had now reached the door. “I would not distress you now for all the world.”

  Before Cat could further reply, she was gathered in by Felicia who had been keeping watch, and rushed upstairs. The maid, a great respecter of her mistress's moods, asked no questions, but wrapped her up in quilts and set her in front of the fire. The rains resumed, and Cat took what comfort she could from tea and toast, avoiding as best she could an analysis of her overwrought emotions. None of them, she concluded, bore close scrutiny.

  ****

  Some short time had passed when Eveline tapped lightly at the door and entered Cat's chamber smiling mildly. “It seems our situation here will not be what we expected, Cat. Mr. Bagsmith took the liberty of informing us of the conditions governing your inheritance. I am sorry this will be so difficult for you.”

  “And for you as well, Eveline, for this involves you as closely as me. I know you envisioned a quiet life at Sparrowell, and it is clear that the future can offer you nothing but annoyance from me.” Cat paused to wipe another self-pitying tear from her cheek. Then she took a deep breath, “I am prepared to release you from your commitment, if you wish, Eveline.”

  “I wouldn't desert you now, Cat, although I admit I find these strictures somewhat trying myself. Nevertheless, there it is. What can we do about it?”

  Cat shrugged. “Very little it seems. I suppose we must take what time we have to prepare for this trial, for I can see no hope but to become one of the mob of husband seekers. I can face many things in life, but the loss of my dear Sparrowell is not among them. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will start by drilling me in deportment again, distressing as I am sure we both find that endeavor. But I assure you, I shall strive to be a far more attentive pupil than I was some years ago.”

  “We shall begin with the question of whether it is seemly to have a man's coat draped across your bed!” Eveline observed as she held up the damp and rumpled garment. “It was most kind of Mr. Hazelforth to fetch you in. Your uncle would have gone, but he's of an age where he must avoid risking his health and we could not send a servant for fear of gossip when you can least afford it. Tell me, Cat. Mr. Hazelforth has paid you some marked attention of late, I understand. He seems an agreeable sort. Could it be that he would make an offer for you and solve your problems quickly?”

  Cat looked down abashed. “We are friends, Eveline, that is all. Moreover, he has had the misfortune to see me at my worst on more than one occasion. In any case, Cecily has informed me he is a confirmed bachelor.”

  Eveline shrugged resignedly. “I suppose you know best, Cat, if his attentions are mere friendship. Now, if you are feeling somewhat recovered, your aunt and uncle are concerned. They are debating whether they should postpone their journey and stay here with you a while.”

  “Oh dear! I have been terribly selfish, haven't I? I had best get dressed and reassure them. They've spent enough of their lives on my business and I know they are anxious to return home.”

  Cat turned quickly to repairing her toilette, her good humor returning somewhat, for while her emotions were volatile, it was one of the great strengths of Cat's personality that she could not remain angry or distressed for long. Already, she was thinking ahead to London.

  Chapter Four

  Cat awakened late the next day weighed down by the heavy feather comforter Felicia had piled on her as a precaution against taking a chill. Caesar and Brutus had climbed up during the night and were burrowed deeply into the feather cover, their little black noses resting boldly on Cat's eyelet pillowcases. “I'm not the only one around here in need of discipline,” she yawned, prodding the protesting pair noisily onto the floor. She then rang for Felicia who soon appeared bearing a tray of steaming tea, scones, and marmalade.

  “You'd best stay snug in bed today, Miss Cat. It's wretched gray weather anyway, pouring down tubs and buckets it is, and I won't have you racing about and taking ill. Out of my way, you corrupt blackguards!” Felicia muttered darkly, kicking as best she could at the bouncing terriers without upsetting her tray. “These scapegrace beasts will cause no end of trouble in London, mark my word, for I've not the least doubt you plan to take them with you.”

  “So,” Cat sighed resignedly, “you already know I plan to go to London, do you?”

  “Well, Miss Cat,” Felicia shrugged as she finally set down her tray, “we servants can't help having ears, you know, for all the gentry treats us like we're deaf and dumb. Your aunt was that upset yesterday, keening and wailing that she'd never see her home again. It was right of you to send them along their way, no doubt about it.”

  “I am glad of your approval, Felicia,” Cat sniffed. “Pray what else of my affairs do you know?”

  “Only that this is not your doing,” the maid continued, unabashed. “We talked it up and down in the servants' hall over tea last evening and we all decided it must have something to do with that Mr. Bagsmith's visit yesterday, for things was nice as ever you please when, all the sudden, out into the storm you run, up starts the wailing, and now we're off to London when you said you'd never.” Felicia paused for a breath long enough to take two biscuits from her apron pocket and toss them out the door to the hallway.
Then she speedily closed the door behind Caesar and Brutus who were after the unexpected treats like a shot.

  “Now p’raps you can have your breakfast in peace,” the maid continued. “Anyway, I starts thinking to myself, the only reason for a young lady to go off to London this time of year is to find a husband. I wouldn't breathe a word of this to them other vile gossips, you may well trust, but tell me if I'm not right.”

  “Unfortunately, you are, Felicia. I just hope word of this won't get around, or I'll be the subject of a scandal before I even have a chance to try to conduct myself with proper decorum.” Cat bit grumpily into a scone.

  “Decorum!” Felicia snorted in scornful disbelief. “When was you ever concerned with decorum?”

  So it was that Cat found herself confiding the effect of her grandmother's letter to Felicia, who listened, eyes wide and jaw agape with rapt attention.

  “Oh, Miss Cat, was there ever anything so exciting? Just like in the penny novels I get from Cook! The lady of beauty and fortune compelled to marry against her wishes! Oh, my dear heart!”

  “I sincerely wish it were a novel, Felicia, for it is going to put a crimp in my style and no mistake. Do you realize what it means to be constrained by decorum? You and I could never have this manner of conversation, except that we do so on the sly. Ladies of decorum do not converse with their maids so freely. I must act mild, demure, cast down my eyes, defer to elders, simper about men, and, worst of all, cut cold those people who act as I so often do. It's beastly, Felicia. But there's no avoiding it, so I'd best be up and about. I review my deportment lessons starting today.”

  “Oh, Miss Cat! I almost forgot. That Mr. Hazelforth was by already, but had to be off in good time this morning, he told Chumley. Said he just called to pay his compliments and inquire after your health, he said.”