Read Online Elizabeth Mansfield by Poor Caroline - Free Book Online
Authors: Poor Caroline
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said, sagging back in her chair. “She won’t. Not Caro.”
“Why not?” Kit leaned forward, making an earnest plea. “It’s not charity, you know. It’s her due.”
“You can say all you like about her due,” Martha explained, “but she won’t accept it. The fact remains that Clement didn’t mention her in the will.”
“A mere oversight,” Kit insisted. “She must know what his intentions were.”
“Intentions are not facts,” said Martha glumly.
Letty nodded. “That’s so true. And Caro is very proud.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Kit clenched his fists, wishing he could wring that blasted female’s neck. How, he wondered, would he ever rid himself of this irksome responsibility? He lifted his head and, with a last vestige of hope, pleaded, “But surely you both, between you, can convince her—”
“No, she won’t listen to us in this matter,” Martha said with finality.
“But, Martha,” Letty said, a note of optimism creeping into her quavery voice, “perhaps Kit himself could—”
“Yes,” Martha agreed, her eyes lighting up eagerly. “You must do it yourself, Kit. If there’s any hope at all of convincing the girl, it lies with you.”
Kit looked from one sister to the other, reading in their faces their complete—and completely groundless—faith in him. “Somehow,” He murmured, shaking his head in disgust, “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
EIGHT
Kit called at his aunt Letitia’s house that very evening, asking to be permitted to speak to Miss Caroline Whitlow. “I’ll see if she’s in,” said Letty’s butler, Melton, a small fellow who, elderly and frail as Letty herself, nonetheless moved with youthful energy. He led the visitor to the drawing room, where he left him to his own devices. Then he carried Kit’s card to the upstairs sitting room, where the family had retired after dinner.
Caroline was sitting at a round table in the corner, giving Gilbert a lesson on the division of fractions. On the other side of the room, near the fire, Letty was working at an embroidery frame, concentrating on keeping the pain in her gnarled fingers from altering the proper direction of her needle. Arthur sat deep in an armchair, ostensibly reading but in reality brooding over his dull existence.
Melton tapped on the open door to announce his presence and crossed the room to the table. “A caller, Miss Caroline,” he announced, holding out the card tray.
“For me?” Caro asked in mild surprise. But when she read the name on the card, surprise deepened to shock. “Good God! It’s Crittenden! ”
Everyone looked up. “Then you must go down at once, my love,” Letty said calmly.
“Go down?” Caro rose to her feet in magisterial fury. “I will most certainly not go down!” She tossed the card back on the tray. “Return to His Lordship, please, Melton, and tell him that I am not at home. Not now. Not ever. Not to him.”
“Wait a minute, Melton,” Letty said, sticking the needle into her work and rising nervously from her chair. “Caro, dearest, you mustn’t send such a message. You don’t know... .”
“What don’t I know?”
Letty picked up her cane and hobbled across the room to the angry young woman. “I told Martha that I should be the one to prepare you, but she said Kit should tell you himself,” she said softly, putting a soothing hand on Caro’s arm. “You see, we’ve been quite wrong about him.” And she launched into a detailed account of what had passed that morning at her sister’s house.
Caro listened, but the way her lips were pressed together and her arms crossed over her chest as if to defend herself from an assault indicated to Arthur, who was watching the scene in fascination, that she was not impressed. Her next words proved him right. “I don’t wish to offend you, Letty dear,” she said tightly when Letty had finished, “but I’ve always felt that you are too fond of your ‘Kit.’ Naturally,
“Why not?” Kit leaned forward, making an earnest plea. “It’s not charity, you know. It’s her due.”
“You can say all you like about her due,” Martha explained, “but she won’t accept it. The fact remains that Clement didn’t mention her in the will.”
“A mere oversight,” Kit insisted. “She must know what his intentions were.”
“Intentions are not facts,” said Martha glumly.
Letty nodded. “That’s so true. And Caro is very proud.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Kit clenched his fists, wishing he could wring that blasted female’s neck. How, he wondered, would he ever rid himself of this irksome responsibility? He lifted his head and, with a last vestige of hope, pleaded, “But surely you both, between you, can convince her—”
“No, she won’t listen to us in this matter,” Martha said with finality.
“But, Martha,” Letty said, a note of optimism creeping into her quavery voice, “perhaps Kit himself could—”
“Yes,” Martha agreed, her eyes lighting up eagerly. “You must do it yourself, Kit. If there’s any hope at all of convincing the girl, it lies with you.”
Kit looked from one sister to the other, reading in their faces their complete—and completely groundless—faith in him. “Somehow,” He murmured, shaking his head in disgust, “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
EIGHT
Kit called at his aunt Letitia’s house that very evening, asking to be permitted to speak to Miss Caroline Whitlow. “I’ll see if she’s in,” said Letty’s butler, Melton, a small fellow who, elderly and frail as Letty herself, nonetheless moved with youthful energy. He led the visitor to the drawing room, where he left him to his own devices. Then he carried Kit’s card to the upstairs sitting room, where the family had retired after dinner.
Caroline was sitting at a round table in the corner, giving Gilbert a lesson on the division of fractions. On the other side of the room, near the fire, Letty was working at an embroidery frame, concentrating on keeping the pain in her gnarled fingers from altering the proper direction of her needle. Arthur sat deep in an armchair, ostensibly reading but in reality brooding over his dull existence.
Melton tapped on the open door to announce his presence and crossed the room to the table. “A caller, Miss Caroline,” he announced, holding out the card tray.
“For me?” Caro asked in mild surprise. But when she read the name on the card, surprise deepened to shock. “Good God! It’s Crittenden! ”
Everyone looked up. “Then you must go down at once, my love,” Letty said calmly.
“Go down?” Caro rose to her feet in magisterial fury. “I will most certainly not go down!” She tossed the card back on the tray. “Return to His Lordship, please, Melton, and tell him that I am not at home. Not now. Not ever. Not to him.”
“Wait a minute, Melton,” Letty said, sticking the needle into her work and rising nervously from her chair. “Caro, dearest, you mustn’t send such a message. You don’t know... .”
“What don’t I know?”
Letty picked up her cane and hobbled across the room to the angry young woman. “I told Martha that I should be the one to prepare you, but she said Kit should tell you himself,” she said softly, putting a soothing hand on Caro’s arm. “You see, we’ve been quite wrong about him.” And she launched into a detailed account of what had passed that morning at her sister’s house.
Caro listened, but the way her lips were pressed together and her arms crossed over her chest as if to defend herself from an assault indicated to Arthur, who was watching the scene in fascination, that she was not impressed. Her next words proved him right. “I don’t wish to offend you, Letty dear,” she said tightly when Letty had finished, “but I’ve always felt that you are too fond of your ‘Kit.’ Naturally,
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