into the real world to show some animation at the prospect of Daphne’salliance with Mr Garfield and had announced her intention of coming to London as well. Minerva was still in Brighton giving her two-year-old son, Julian, the benefit of the sea air, and so the Armitage family were making use of her husband Lord Sylvester Comfrey’s town house.
Diana was sulking and pining and complaining that she did not like life in town and London smelled abominably.
Little Frederica seemed to have her nose in some book or other and could rarely be persuaded to step out of doors.
The vicar had strolled past Mr Garfield’s house from time to time in the hope of seeing some sign that that gentleman had returned, but to date he seemed noticeably absent.
Annabelle showed little interest in the prospect of Daphne making a rich marriage. She played all day long with baby Charles and did not seem to pay much attention to her husband.
And then there was the beautiful Mr Archer. The vicar had dropped several very large hints in that exquisite young man’s shell-like ear that he would not be a welcome addition to the Armitage family, but Mr Archer had just smiled sweetly at the vicar and had said something quite inane which showed he had not been paying the slightest attention whatsoever.
Then there was Daphne herself. Never had she looked more beautiful or had she appeared more lifeless. Which all went to show, thought the vicarsavagely, that Cyril Archer was doing nothing to raise her spirits at all. She most certainly was not in love with the man.
In that, he was wrong. For Daphne had persuaded herself she was in love with Mr Archer; persuaded herself with such intensity that it was almost the same as the real thing. Once again, however, she carefully controlled her manner and expression. If she just went doggedly on with the goal of marriage to Mr Archer in mind, neither looking to the right nor the left, then things would work out. She and Mr Archer could set up house somewhere pretty and admire each other at length. Mr Archer did not expect her to think very deeply on any subject and would have been quite alarmed if Daphne had shown any signs of animation or intelligence. Deep down Daphne sensed this, and since she herself found Mr Archer’s calm and beautiful stupidity an attraction, she was well able to appreciate the value of her own attraction for him and take pains not to do anything to mar it.
She was glad the irritating and upsetting Mr Garfield had stayed away. From time to time she worried about Bellsire and Thunderer, imagining them being ill-treated, cursed and beaten. Sometimes she even fantasized finding out the direction of Mr Apsley’s kennels and rescuing the hounds on a dark moonless night.
Mr Archer had called on her that very afternoon and had taken her for a drive in the park. Her father had been absent and Mrs Armitage could findnothing amiss in allowing the seemingly innocuous Mr Archer to squire her daughter. It had been a pleasant and undemanding outing and they had excited a great deal of admiration. Mr Archer was divinely fair with white gold curls falling over a broad marble brow. His eyes were of a deep and intense blue and his mouth was beautifully shaped and perpetually curled in one of those smiles you see on classical statues – which is really what it was in a way, Mr Archer having practised that smile before the looking glass until he had it quite perfect.
He had rather curved elongated lids as well which added to his classical appearance. His only fault was that he was rather hollow-chested but that had been rectified by buckram wadding, and, since Daphne had never seen him without his coat, she was unaware of this defect.
Lady Godolphin had been thrown into a flurry by the arrival of Mr Garfield’s footman for she had found a substitute for him to make up her dinner table, that substitute being the fair Mr Archer. She knew Mr Armitage would be annoyed but she had always considered Mr
Diana was sulking and pining and complaining that she did not like life in town and London smelled abominably.
Little Frederica seemed to have her nose in some book or other and could rarely be persuaded to step out of doors.
The vicar had strolled past Mr Garfield’s house from time to time in the hope of seeing some sign that that gentleman had returned, but to date he seemed noticeably absent.
Annabelle showed little interest in the prospect of Daphne making a rich marriage. She played all day long with baby Charles and did not seem to pay much attention to her husband.
And then there was the beautiful Mr Archer. The vicar had dropped several very large hints in that exquisite young man’s shell-like ear that he would not be a welcome addition to the Armitage family, but Mr Archer had just smiled sweetly at the vicar and had said something quite inane which showed he had not been paying the slightest attention whatsoever.
Then there was Daphne herself. Never had she looked more beautiful or had she appeared more lifeless. Which all went to show, thought the vicarsavagely, that Cyril Archer was doing nothing to raise her spirits at all. She most certainly was not in love with the man.
In that, he was wrong. For Daphne had persuaded herself she was in love with Mr Archer; persuaded herself with such intensity that it was almost the same as the real thing. Once again, however, she carefully controlled her manner and expression. If she just went doggedly on with the goal of marriage to Mr Archer in mind, neither looking to the right nor the left, then things would work out. She and Mr Archer could set up house somewhere pretty and admire each other at length. Mr Archer did not expect her to think very deeply on any subject and would have been quite alarmed if Daphne had shown any signs of animation or intelligence. Deep down Daphne sensed this, and since she herself found Mr Archer’s calm and beautiful stupidity an attraction, she was well able to appreciate the value of her own attraction for him and take pains not to do anything to mar it.
She was glad the irritating and upsetting Mr Garfield had stayed away. From time to time she worried about Bellsire and Thunderer, imagining them being ill-treated, cursed and beaten. Sometimes she even fantasized finding out the direction of Mr Apsley’s kennels and rescuing the hounds on a dark moonless night.
Mr Archer had called on her that very afternoon and had taken her for a drive in the park. Her father had been absent and Mrs Armitage could findnothing amiss in allowing the seemingly innocuous Mr Archer to squire her daughter. It had been a pleasant and undemanding outing and they had excited a great deal of admiration. Mr Archer was divinely fair with white gold curls falling over a broad marble brow. His eyes were of a deep and intense blue and his mouth was beautifully shaped and perpetually curled in one of those smiles you see on classical statues – which is really what it was in a way, Mr Archer having practised that smile before the looking glass until he had it quite perfect.
He had rather curved elongated lids as well which added to his classical appearance. His only fault was that he was rather hollow-chested but that had been rectified by buckram wadding, and, since Daphne had never seen him without his coat, she was unaware of this defect.
Lady Godolphin had been thrown into a flurry by the arrival of Mr Garfield’s footman for she had found a substitute for him to make up her dinner table, that substitute being the fair Mr Archer. She knew Mr Armitage would be annoyed but she had always considered Mr
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