Angel clapped her hands to her ears. “If it happens again on my day, we will just have to wash in cold water.”
“Hot or cold, you had better wash your face soon,” advised Catherine. “You look for all the world like a climbing boy. We are going to see Lord Grisedale today, and what he’d think if he saw you now doesn’t bear dwelling on. He’d certainly not guess your true identity!”
Chapter 6
When Angel and the Suttons were ushered into the drawing room at Grisedale Hall, they found only Lady Elizabeth and her companion awaiting them. A footman announced that his lordship would see Mr Sutton immediately. The vicar excused himself and followed the servant, whereupon Mrs Daventry launched upon a complaint about the climate of the Lake District.
“It is raining again!” she announced in case they had not noticed. “I declare I do not know how it is to be borne. Three days of sunshine we had and I quite expect that that is all we shall see this summer for they say this is by far the wettest part of the kingdom and I am sure . . .”
Mrs Sutton and Catherine closed their ears and sat with glazed smiles on their faces, thinking their own thoughts and occasionally murmuring unintelligible comments, which seemed to satisfy Mrs Daventry. Angel had managed to seat herself and Beth on a sofa at some little distance, and they talked quietly together.
In view of the presence of the others, Angel hesitated to attempt the subject of Messrs Leigh and Marshall, so she did not even mention the previous day’s visit. Instead she described her mishap with the stove, eliciting a laugh from Beth that brought Mrs Daventry’s monologueto an abrupt halt.
“. . . and I assure you in Norfolk it is very different— Why, the girls are laughing! Pray what did you tell her to make her laugh so, Miss Brand? I dearly love a joke myself.”
Seeing Angel about to answer and afraid of what might emerge, Mrs Sutton hastily interrupted. “I am sure it is nonsense, ma’am, and not worth repeating. The silliest things amuse young ladies. I expect you remember that from your youth, as I do.”
This called forth an oration on Youth, followed by a series of reminiscences which nearly sent Catherine to sleep. She could not imagine how anyone who had had such a dull childhood was able to recall it in such minute detail. As she stifled her fourth yawn and wondered whether the fifth would escape her, the footman returned. His lordship requested the pleasure of the company of Mrs and Miss Sutton and Miss Brand.
The ladies rose, shook out their skirts, and followed him. Angel wondered why the summons had thrown her into high fidgets. By all she had heard the earl was an irascible old gentleman, but he was not an ogre and had no reason (as yet, she qualified) to rip up at her. Besides, he was merely an earl and Papa was a marquis, though she could not tell him so. It must be an uneasy conscience as to her intentions towards his expressed wishes for his daughter’s future, she decided. But she was no dependent of his, to be bound by his wishes. She dismissed her misgivings as the footman threw open a door and bowed them through.
The room they entered was hot and gloomy. A huge fire roaring in the hearth was the only lighting, and heavy crimson drapes covered the windows, while the walls were panelled in dark wood and the only furniture was a number of leather-upholstered armchairs. In one of these Angel at last distinguished a small, hunched, elderly gentleman who, she realised to her surprise, must be Lord Grisedale, as the only other person in the room was her uncle. For no reason she could think of she had expected someone much larger.
She examined him with interest as she made her curtsy, and decided he looked bitter, surly, and miserable. The latter, she thought, could be cured at least in part by dousing half the fire and throwing open both curtains and windows. She herself was already hot and sticky and uncomfortable, and the
“Hot or cold, you had better wash your face soon,” advised Catherine. “You look for all the world like a climbing boy. We are going to see Lord Grisedale today, and what he’d think if he saw you now doesn’t bear dwelling on. He’d certainly not guess your true identity!”
Chapter 6
When Angel and the Suttons were ushered into the drawing room at Grisedale Hall, they found only Lady Elizabeth and her companion awaiting them. A footman announced that his lordship would see Mr Sutton immediately. The vicar excused himself and followed the servant, whereupon Mrs Daventry launched upon a complaint about the climate of the Lake District.
“It is raining again!” she announced in case they had not noticed. “I declare I do not know how it is to be borne. Three days of sunshine we had and I quite expect that that is all we shall see this summer for they say this is by far the wettest part of the kingdom and I am sure . . .”
Mrs Sutton and Catherine closed their ears and sat with glazed smiles on their faces, thinking their own thoughts and occasionally murmuring unintelligible comments, which seemed to satisfy Mrs Daventry. Angel had managed to seat herself and Beth on a sofa at some little distance, and they talked quietly together.
In view of the presence of the others, Angel hesitated to attempt the subject of Messrs Leigh and Marshall, so she did not even mention the previous day’s visit. Instead she described her mishap with the stove, eliciting a laugh from Beth that brought Mrs Daventry’s monologueto an abrupt halt.
“. . . and I assure you in Norfolk it is very different— Why, the girls are laughing! Pray what did you tell her to make her laugh so, Miss Brand? I dearly love a joke myself.”
Seeing Angel about to answer and afraid of what might emerge, Mrs Sutton hastily interrupted. “I am sure it is nonsense, ma’am, and not worth repeating. The silliest things amuse young ladies. I expect you remember that from your youth, as I do.”
This called forth an oration on Youth, followed by a series of reminiscences which nearly sent Catherine to sleep. She could not imagine how anyone who had had such a dull childhood was able to recall it in such minute detail. As she stifled her fourth yawn and wondered whether the fifth would escape her, the footman returned. His lordship requested the pleasure of the company of Mrs and Miss Sutton and Miss Brand.
The ladies rose, shook out their skirts, and followed him. Angel wondered why the summons had thrown her into high fidgets. By all she had heard the earl was an irascible old gentleman, but he was not an ogre and had no reason (as yet, she qualified) to rip up at her. Besides, he was merely an earl and Papa was a marquis, though she could not tell him so. It must be an uneasy conscience as to her intentions towards his expressed wishes for his daughter’s future, she decided. But she was no dependent of his, to be bound by his wishes. She dismissed her misgivings as the footman threw open a door and bowed them through.
The room they entered was hot and gloomy. A huge fire roaring in the hearth was the only lighting, and heavy crimson drapes covered the windows, while the walls were panelled in dark wood and the only furniture was a number of leather-upholstered armchairs. In one of these Angel at last distinguished a small, hunched, elderly gentleman who, she realised to her surprise, must be Lord Grisedale, as the only other person in the room was her uncle. For no reason she could think of she had expected someone much larger.
She examined him with interest as she made her curtsy, and decided he looked bitter, surly, and miserable. The latter, she thought, could be cured at least in part by dousing half the fire and throwing open both curtains and windows. She herself was already hot and sticky and uncomfortable, and the
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