air of abstraction.
Baxter, the Tribbles’ lady’s maid, had told Maria that the Duke of Berham had called. Miss Effy, said Baxter, had been puzzled by the visit and had wondered why Miss Amy had said nothing about it, not realizing Amy had already done so. Maria insisted she did not know what had prompted his grace to call on her. She was sure Amy’s absence had something to do with the revenge on the duke Amy had promised and felt it would be better to remain silent on the subject until Amy returned.
Maria meanwhile was wrapped in dreams of spurning the duke. He always proposed, she always refused and he crawled away in shame taking his broken heart with him. This was the best dream Maria had had in a long time and she nourished it and embroidered it until in her mind’s eye the duke became older-looking, with a certain seedy grandeur about him as befitting a crumbling aristocrat.
She was disappointed when Amy refused to see her but accepted it was because Amy had been shot by a highwayman. Maria thought Amy a most romantic figure.
Maria always woke early in the morning because in Bath her parents always rose late and she was used to treasuring the peace of the mornings. The morning after Amy’s return was no exception.
Effy had given Maria a list of eligibles and had told her to check the engagements in the newspapers and mark off any possibles who had already been snatched up.
Maria read all the advertisements first. There was a Miss Thomas of Chancery Lane advertising ready-made dresses ‘to fit all sizes’, and F. Newbery and Sons were offering every kind of remedy from Dr James’s Powders to Convulsion Pills. A gentleman who had left a brown pelisse coat lined with fur in a hackney chariot was promising three guineas for its return. She turned to the social news and began to read about a grand party that had been illuminated with hundreds of Chinese lamps when her eye was caught by a small announcement farther down the page. She was sure she had seen the name Kendall. But then Kendall was quite an ordinary name.
And then the announcement seemed to scream at her that there was to be a forthcoming marriage between His Grace, The Duke of Berham, and Miss Maria Kendall, only daughter of Mr and Mrs Kendall of Bath. The announcement was very short, the duke’s secretary having known only what he had gleaned from the dowager duchess, who did not know whether Maria was the Kendalls’ only child, but had simply assumed that if such vulgar persons were paying the Tribbles’ costly bill, then it stood to reason Maria must be their sole offspring.
Maria slowly put down the paper and thought hard. The duke had kissed her. It now seemed as if that kiss had been the kiss of a man driven by passion rather than an insulting gesture from an enraged aristocrat. Her feelings softened towards the duke. It was an outrageous thing to do, but he must have felt it was the only way he could secure her. She knew from the social columns that his mother was staying with him at the ducal town house; therefore there would be no scandal in her visiting him. She would tell him gently she could never marry him. At the back of Maria’s brain there was a sort of stern older sister always monitoring her folly. This voice told her that the advertisement was nothing more than an embarrassing mistake, that the duke would be furious, and that she should leave the handling of the matter to the Tribbles. But the younger Maria, who had learned to live in dreams to escape the harsh reality of her parents’ pushing vulgarity and bullying, would not listen to that voice of reason.
She did not ring for her maid but dressed herself carefully in an outfit Yvette had created for her. It consisted of a cambric high gown covered with a Spanish robe of pea-green muslin worn with a winged mob-cap of white crepe under a beehive bonnet of moss straw, Limerick gloves, and green kid Spanish slippers.
She went downstairs and told a footman to fetch her a
Baxter, the Tribbles’ lady’s maid, had told Maria that the Duke of Berham had called. Miss Effy, said Baxter, had been puzzled by the visit and had wondered why Miss Amy had said nothing about it, not realizing Amy had already done so. Maria insisted she did not know what had prompted his grace to call on her. She was sure Amy’s absence had something to do with the revenge on the duke Amy had promised and felt it would be better to remain silent on the subject until Amy returned.
Maria meanwhile was wrapped in dreams of spurning the duke. He always proposed, she always refused and he crawled away in shame taking his broken heart with him. This was the best dream Maria had had in a long time and she nourished it and embroidered it until in her mind’s eye the duke became older-looking, with a certain seedy grandeur about him as befitting a crumbling aristocrat.
She was disappointed when Amy refused to see her but accepted it was because Amy had been shot by a highwayman. Maria thought Amy a most romantic figure.
Maria always woke early in the morning because in Bath her parents always rose late and she was used to treasuring the peace of the mornings. The morning after Amy’s return was no exception.
Effy had given Maria a list of eligibles and had told her to check the engagements in the newspapers and mark off any possibles who had already been snatched up.
Maria read all the advertisements first. There was a Miss Thomas of Chancery Lane advertising ready-made dresses ‘to fit all sizes’, and F. Newbery and Sons were offering every kind of remedy from Dr James’s Powders to Convulsion Pills. A gentleman who had left a brown pelisse coat lined with fur in a hackney chariot was promising three guineas for its return. She turned to the social news and began to read about a grand party that had been illuminated with hundreds of Chinese lamps when her eye was caught by a small announcement farther down the page. She was sure she had seen the name Kendall. But then Kendall was quite an ordinary name.
And then the announcement seemed to scream at her that there was to be a forthcoming marriage between His Grace, The Duke of Berham, and Miss Maria Kendall, only daughter of Mr and Mrs Kendall of Bath. The announcement was very short, the duke’s secretary having known only what he had gleaned from the dowager duchess, who did not know whether Maria was the Kendalls’ only child, but had simply assumed that if such vulgar persons were paying the Tribbles’ costly bill, then it stood to reason Maria must be their sole offspring.
Maria slowly put down the paper and thought hard. The duke had kissed her. It now seemed as if that kiss had been the kiss of a man driven by passion rather than an insulting gesture from an enraged aristocrat. Her feelings softened towards the duke. It was an outrageous thing to do, but he must have felt it was the only way he could secure her. She knew from the social columns that his mother was staying with him at the ducal town house; therefore there would be no scandal in her visiting him. She would tell him gently she could never marry him. At the back of Maria’s brain there was a sort of stern older sister always monitoring her folly. This voice told her that the advertisement was nothing more than an embarrassing mistake, that the duke would be furious, and that she should leave the handling of the matter to the Tribbles. But the younger Maria, who had learned to live in dreams to escape the harsh reality of her parents’ pushing vulgarity and bullying, would not listen to that voice of reason.
She did not ring for her maid but dressed herself carefully in an outfit Yvette had created for her. It consisted of a cambric high gown covered with a Spanish robe of pea-green muslin worn with a winged mob-cap of white crepe under a beehive bonnet of moss straw, Limerick gloves, and green kid Spanish slippers.
She went downstairs and told a footman to fetch her a
Similar Books
