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Authors: The Dauntless Miss Wingrave
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should make an ass of myself.”
“You are a very intelligent young man,” Emily said casually. “I saw that right off, of course, so I am persuaded that you will know the exact course to follow. And I suspect that you can see for yourself that if you were to pretend an interest, even if you do not truly have one, and were to continue to ask about things even if your cousin puts you off at first, that eventually you will learn a great deal. But perhaps what you really mean to say is that you do not want the responsibility of running this great estate, not now or ever.”
“Well, of course I want it. It is my privilege, after all. It just seems pointless …” He paused thoughtfully, then said, “Do you really think he would tell me such things?”
“I do not know,” replied Miss Wingrave, ever truthful. “I should think he would. And I will tell you something else, Oliver. You are neglecting your duty toward Dolly, and that is something Meriden would never encourage you to do.”
“Dolly? Good Lord, ma’am, what have I to do with Dolly?”
“She is your sister. At present she is lonely and feeling greatly put upon. She does not understand all that has happened, and she may do something foolish out of her frustration. You, being close to her in age, are more likely than anyone else to comprehend her feelings and to guide her.”
“Much she would listen to me,” snorted Oliver. “Why, Harry Enderby—he’s my best friend and he don’t have a sister of his own like Ted Bennett does—he always notices what Dolly’s doing, and though he don’t approve of her above half, she pays no heed to him or to me either when we criticize her behavior.”
“Then you must exert yourself to win her trust. Truly, Oliver,” Emily went on earnestly, “you can do it, and it will keep you from being bored. I believe Dolly is starving for attention, and you certainly seem to me to be clever enough to bring her round your thumb in a trice if you wish to do so.”
She knew immediately that she had been right to appeal to his vanity, for he stirred and straightened in his chair. He did not agree with her in so many words, nor did he say he would attempt to do as she asked, but when she left him, still staring into the fire, Emily felt as though she had accomplished a good deal. Really, she told herself as she went back up the stairs, Oliver was no more difficult to manage than Ned or John, not nearly so difficult as Papa.
She found Sabrina preparing for bed in her dressing room and stayed only long enough to apologize for causing her distress and to promise faithfully to make amends to Meriden on the following day. Then, her conscience clear, she took herself off to her own bedchamber to read two chapters of a book borrowed from Miss Lavinia before retiring to her bed to sleep peacefully through the night.
The following morning, Emily arose early and decided to enjoy a brisk walk in the gardens before breakfast. She followed the drive around the dew-dampened lawn to the lakeshore path, past the knot garden, across the wooden footbridge and past the temple, around the far side of the lake to the triple-arched stone bridge. From the center of the bridge, looking back, the little temple resembled a miniature Pantheon, while the house on the hill to her right looked like a child’s large dollhouse. The prospect was a pleasing one.
On the other side of the bridge, the lakeside path joined the pebbled drive. One could continue around the lake, back to the house, or one could enter the home wood, where the drive became a roadway leading farther up the dale. Sunlight danced in golden, dust-laden beams among the leaves and shrubbery of the lush woodland, beckoning Emily to explore.
She had walked for only a few minutes along the narrow road before her sharp ears noted the sound of approaching hoofbeats. The voices of the woods continued undiminished, however, which told her that the approaching rider was no stranger to the
“You are a very intelligent young man,” Emily said casually. “I saw that right off, of course, so I am persuaded that you will know the exact course to follow. And I suspect that you can see for yourself that if you were to pretend an interest, even if you do not truly have one, and were to continue to ask about things even if your cousin puts you off at first, that eventually you will learn a great deal. But perhaps what you really mean to say is that you do not want the responsibility of running this great estate, not now or ever.”
“Well, of course I want it. It is my privilege, after all. It just seems pointless …” He paused thoughtfully, then said, “Do you really think he would tell me such things?”
“I do not know,” replied Miss Wingrave, ever truthful. “I should think he would. And I will tell you something else, Oliver. You are neglecting your duty toward Dolly, and that is something Meriden would never encourage you to do.”
“Dolly? Good Lord, ma’am, what have I to do with Dolly?”
“She is your sister. At present she is lonely and feeling greatly put upon. She does not understand all that has happened, and she may do something foolish out of her frustration. You, being close to her in age, are more likely than anyone else to comprehend her feelings and to guide her.”
“Much she would listen to me,” snorted Oliver. “Why, Harry Enderby—he’s my best friend and he don’t have a sister of his own like Ted Bennett does—he always notices what Dolly’s doing, and though he don’t approve of her above half, she pays no heed to him or to me either when we criticize her behavior.”
“Then you must exert yourself to win her trust. Truly, Oliver,” Emily went on earnestly, “you can do it, and it will keep you from being bored. I believe Dolly is starving for attention, and you certainly seem to me to be clever enough to bring her round your thumb in a trice if you wish to do so.”
She knew immediately that she had been right to appeal to his vanity, for he stirred and straightened in his chair. He did not agree with her in so many words, nor did he say he would attempt to do as she asked, but when she left him, still staring into the fire, Emily felt as though she had accomplished a good deal. Really, she told herself as she went back up the stairs, Oliver was no more difficult to manage than Ned or John, not nearly so difficult as Papa.
She found Sabrina preparing for bed in her dressing room and stayed only long enough to apologize for causing her distress and to promise faithfully to make amends to Meriden on the following day. Then, her conscience clear, she took herself off to her own bedchamber to read two chapters of a book borrowed from Miss Lavinia before retiring to her bed to sleep peacefully through the night.
The following morning, Emily arose early and decided to enjoy a brisk walk in the gardens before breakfast. She followed the drive around the dew-dampened lawn to the lakeshore path, past the knot garden, across the wooden footbridge and past the temple, around the far side of the lake to the triple-arched stone bridge. From the center of the bridge, looking back, the little temple resembled a miniature Pantheon, while the house on the hill to her right looked like a child’s large dollhouse. The prospect was a pleasing one.
On the other side of the bridge, the lakeside path joined the pebbled drive. One could continue around the lake, back to the house, or one could enter the home wood, where the drive became a roadway leading farther up the dale. Sunlight danced in golden, dust-laden beams among the leaves and shrubbery of the lush woodland, beckoning Emily to explore.
She had walked for only a few minutes along the narrow road before her sharp ears noted the sound of approaching hoofbeats. The voices of the woods continued undiminished, however, which told her that the approaching rider was no stranger to the
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