Read Online Jennie About to Be by Elisabeth Ogilvie - Free Book Online

frill of his shirt. Mavis waited by the door to see Nigel out, so immobile she looked like a waxwork, but she could hardly wait to get down to the kitchen with the news.

Six

    A UNT HIGHAM’S first step in the management of events was to take her niece out for the evening. They went to a soiree where a man read the exciting new poetic drama Marmion by Walter Scott, and a lady sang appropriate songs.
    It would have all been endurable except that any place without Nigel was a place without sun. George Vinton was there, or rather a something whose cravat seemed to be choking him every time he looked at her; this object was called George Vinton but otherwise had no meaning for her. When they returned to Brunswick Square, she expected to go to bed in suspense and lie awake all night, but Mavis said, “Mr. Higham would like for both you and Miss Hawthorne to come to the library, ma’am.”
    â€œHas Captain Gilchrist been ?”
    â€œYes, and gone, ma’am.”
    Was he smiling when you showed him out? Jennie burned to ask. She stood in frightened, dry-mouthed silence, twisting the strings of her evening reticule. Mavis turned from taking Aunt Higham’s mantle to take hers, and she submitted meekly; usually she didn’t want help.
    â€œBe off to bed with you now,” her aunt said to Mavis, who bobbed and was gone.
    In the library Uncle Higham stood on the hearth with his back to the fender, his hands clasped behind him under his coattails. He was, for him, effusive, a state which would pass for mild approval in someone else.
    â€œThe boy is perfectly sound. Not that he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know already, but he told it to me straight, and that’s a good sign. His stepfather did well by him, and he’s next in line for a considerable property in Scotland. No titles involved, but what is a title compared to solid property? Oh, I believe there’s an earldom somewhere, but there are so many people between it and him that it’s not worth mentioning.”
    However, he had mentioned it, and Aunt Higham must have been torn again between duty to her ward and to her daughter.
    â€œScottish earldoms,” her husband pontificated, “are worth nothing unless they sit upon coal mines, and this one doesn’t. The property in hand belongs to an older brother, and it’s unlikely”—he harrumphed hard enough to cause a vibration in his jar of pipes on the mantel behind him—“that there will be a son born. . . . Those Highland landlords are showing signs of intelligence, turning all that empty space over to sheep. There should be something very nice for young Gilchrist in time. Very nice indeed.” Uncle Higham rocked onto his toes and back to his heels. “In the meanwhile he has a promising career in the Army. We’ll meet again for the formalities, of course, but I think we can safely assume”— another shattering harrumph —“a successful conclusion to the business.” He nodded at Jennie, who was then kissed on each cheek by her aunt and told to go to bed because she needed her strength.
    â€œThe wedding will be at Saint George’s in Hanover Square, of course,” Aunt Higham said to her husband as Jennie was leaving the room. “I shall commence my lists tonight. I won’t be able to shut an eye until I’ve done something .”
    All at once weary, Jennie was brushing her hair before the mirror on her toilet stand, observing herself by candlelight with unusual detachment, when Charlotte crept in. “I’ve been lying awake waiting for you. I saw them when he left. They were shaking hands, and Papa called him ‘My boy’ and clapped him on the shoulder.” She giggled. “He had to reach up to do it, And I knew it was all right, Papa has consented. Oh, Jennie, aren’t you excited? How can you bear it?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Jennie. The two girls hugged.