turned to the groom and prepared to master the art of riding.
When Kitty at last returned to her rooms to change for dinner, she was feeling happy and exhilarated. Hanson had said she would make a good horsewoman. But her happiness died when she realized her husband did not intend to join her. He emerged briefly from the estate office to explain. “Things are in a terrible muddle, Kitty. I’m afraid that because of—” he was about to say “lack of money” but decided it would not be tactful “—because of my neglect, there is a lot to be done on the estate.”
He ran his long fingers through his black curls. “I had hoped to have time to take you around. I tell you what I’ll do. Our neighbors, the Thackerays, are giving a house party. I’ll escort you there tomorrow and there I must leave you for a few days.”
“But I would much rather stay here with you and my pony,” said Kitty, almost in tears.
The Baron was irritated. He hoped, callously, that she was not going to turn into one of those clinging vines.
“Come now, Kitty. You need some fun to cheer you up. There are a lot of young people staying with the Thackerays.” He tried to joke. “You should leave an old fogey like me to get on with my work.”
“You’re not old. You’re only thirty!” said Kitty, the tears beginning to stand out in her eyes.
What a watering pot, thought the exasperated Baron. He must decide what was best for her.
“Don’t be silly,” he said, unconsciously imitating her mother. “You’ll like it when you get there.” With that, he escaped from the room.
Kitty sat miserably by herself through the nine courses of dinner, too downhearted to tell the butler that she was not hungry.
Afterward, she lay awake, reading in her room, waiting for the sound of her husband’s footsteps on the stairs. At last, she could hear him. Dressed in her filmy nightdress with her fine, silky hair brushed on her shoulders, she sat up and listened. The footsteps hesitated for a second outside her door and then went on down the corridor. For a long time, she sat there, staring at the door, feeling like a foreigner adrift on some strange and alien sea.
The Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Thackeray were waiting for them when they arrived the next day. As they stood on the steps of their home, both husband and wife seemed to be completely round, like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
Called Rooks Neuk, the Thackeray home was modern, complete with electricity and steam heat which required the services of three resident engineers and two firemen, to maintain. It was built on the lines of a medieval castle including battlements and a fake armory. Various statues of heraldic beasts sported on the lawns and, to complete the picture, a sturdy drawbridge spanned a weedy moat.
The honeymoon couple were welcomed enthusiastically by the Thackerays. Mrs. Mary Thackeray may have been a round dumpling of a woman, but she was very smartly dressed. Kitty was glad that she had worn her new tea gown.
Mrs. Thackeray took her arm and surveyed her. “Love your teagie. Fittums! Fittums! Was it expie?”
Kitty looked at her in surprise and turned to her husband for help, but he was deeply involved in conversation with the Honorable Jeremy. She took a deep breath and decided she must learn to cope with awkward social situations herself. After all, Miss Bates had always told her pupils, “When speaking to a foreigner, who has not a complete command of our splendid language, always speak very loudly and clearly.”
“
I’m afraid I do not understand you.
Please… repeat… what… you… have… just… said… very… slowly… and… clearly.” Mrs. Thackeray took a step back. Kitty had shouted full in her face.
“I’m not deaf,” she said crossly. “I said—oh, never mind. I’ll show you your room.” Kitty was very bewildered. Mrs. Thackeray spoke English after all What had she meant? Her hostess stopped outside a door with Kitty’s name written on
When Kitty at last returned to her rooms to change for dinner, she was feeling happy and exhilarated. Hanson had said she would make a good horsewoman. But her happiness died when she realized her husband did not intend to join her. He emerged briefly from the estate office to explain. “Things are in a terrible muddle, Kitty. I’m afraid that because of—” he was about to say “lack of money” but decided it would not be tactful “—because of my neglect, there is a lot to be done on the estate.”
He ran his long fingers through his black curls. “I had hoped to have time to take you around. I tell you what I’ll do. Our neighbors, the Thackerays, are giving a house party. I’ll escort you there tomorrow and there I must leave you for a few days.”
“But I would much rather stay here with you and my pony,” said Kitty, almost in tears.
The Baron was irritated. He hoped, callously, that she was not going to turn into one of those clinging vines.
“Come now, Kitty. You need some fun to cheer you up. There are a lot of young people staying with the Thackerays.” He tried to joke. “You should leave an old fogey like me to get on with my work.”
“You’re not old. You’re only thirty!” said Kitty, the tears beginning to stand out in her eyes.
What a watering pot, thought the exasperated Baron. He must decide what was best for her.
“Don’t be silly,” he said, unconsciously imitating her mother. “You’ll like it when you get there.” With that, he escaped from the room.
Kitty sat miserably by herself through the nine courses of dinner, too downhearted to tell the butler that she was not hungry.
Afterward, she lay awake, reading in her room, waiting for the sound of her husband’s footsteps on the stairs. At last, she could hear him. Dressed in her filmy nightdress with her fine, silky hair brushed on her shoulders, she sat up and listened. The footsteps hesitated for a second outside her door and then went on down the corridor. For a long time, she sat there, staring at the door, feeling like a foreigner adrift on some strange and alien sea.
The Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Thackeray were waiting for them when they arrived the next day. As they stood on the steps of their home, both husband and wife seemed to be completely round, like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
Called Rooks Neuk, the Thackeray home was modern, complete with electricity and steam heat which required the services of three resident engineers and two firemen, to maintain. It was built on the lines of a medieval castle including battlements and a fake armory. Various statues of heraldic beasts sported on the lawns and, to complete the picture, a sturdy drawbridge spanned a weedy moat.
The honeymoon couple were welcomed enthusiastically by the Thackerays. Mrs. Mary Thackeray may have been a round dumpling of a woman, but she was very smartly dressed. Kitty was glad that she had worn her new tea gown.
Mrs. Thackeray took her arm and surveyed her. “Love your teagie. Fittums! Fittums! Was it expie?”
Kitty looked at her in surprise and turned to her husband for help, but he was deeply involved in conversation with the Honorable Jeremy. She took a deep breath and decided she must learn to cope with awkward social situations herself. After all, Miss Bates had always told her pupils, “When speaking to a foreigner, who has not a complete command of our splendid language, always speak very loudly and clearly.”
“
I’m afraid I do not understand you.
Please… repeat… what… you… have… just… said… very… slowly… and… clearly.” Mrs. Thackeray took a step back. Kitty had shouted full in her face.
“I’m not deaf,” she said crossly. “I said—oh, never mind. I’ll show you your room.” Kitty was very bewildered. Mrs. Thackeray spoke English after all What had she meant? Her hostess stopped outside a door with Kitty’s name written on
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