Read Online Maggie MacKeever by Fair Fatality - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fair Fatality
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nattering, Phineas!” she snapped, when he paused to draw breath. “Now that you have met my niece, what do you think?”
“Lady Easterling is a very lovely young woman. A trifle high-spirited, perhaps.” Sir Phineas strove for tact.
“High-spirited?” Lady Blackwood grimaced. “You mean that she’s as bold as a brass-faced monkey. Pushing! Impertinent! A thorough rag-mannered chit.”
The dowager’s patent disapproval of a niece in residence beneath her roof did not startle Sir Phineas. It was his opinion that the dowager approved of no one, save possibly himself, and that because he made it his policy never to cross her will. Reminded by this reflection of the lady upon whose slender person Georgiana’s will was most often wreaked, he ventured a polite inquiry regarding Miss Valentine’s well-being and current whereabouts.
Though mention of the Prince Regent had failed to divert the dowager duchess from her baleful thoughts, the introduction of Miss Valentine into the discussion earned Sir Phineas a sharp glance. “You are mighty interested in my companion,” she uttered spitefully. “Who, not that it’s any of your business, is at the moment engaged with Confucious! I am not at all pleased with Sara. She is not exercising the control over my niece that I should like. Moreover, the silly twit’s taken it into her head that she deserves a holiday!”
In Sir Phineas’s opinion anyone who passed an hour in company with Lady Blackwood was deserving of a rest, but he was not sufficiently imprudent as to so remark. He had a great deal of fellow-feeling for the plight of Miss Valentine, and also a degree of guilt: Sir Phineas had been the instrument by which the orphaned Sara had been brought into Georgiana’s employ. Her existence in Blackwood House was not happy, he knew, and wished there was some manner in which he might make redress.
“Oho!” The dowager’s keen eyes missed little. “Sits the wind in that quarter? There’s no fool like an old one! I will tell you what I told my niece: put those air-dreams out of your mind.”
Georgiana thought he nourished warm sentiments toward Miss Valentine? Sir Phineas flushed. Certainly he was fond of Sara, appreciated her quiet and ladylike manner as well as the excellent tone of her mind; but the dowager maligned him by viewing his liking for Miss Valentine in so mundane a light. “Fustian!” Sir Phineas retorted gruffly.
“Is it?” As always when she’d caused discomfort, the dowager was in good cheer. “Do not despair, Phineas! Do but execute my commission and I might be so grateful that I change my mind.”
This ray of hope Sir Phineas very wisely ignored. Lady Blackwood was of far too selfish a disposition to so easily give up the meek and self-effacing companion who never uttered a rebellious word. “Twenty-seven makes a poor match for sixty,” he pointed out, hoping to close the subject.
“Balderdash!” retorted the dowager. At rather more than sixty, she did not care for intimations of advanced age. “A chit as unfortunately situated as Sara should be grateful for any offer she receives.”
Unfortunate indeed was Miss Valentine’s situation, as Sir Phineas refrained from pointing out. He need only endure Georgiana’s unpleasantness at occasional short intervals, after which he could repair to his club and regain his composure over a bottle of claret; but Sara must tolerate her employer’s beastliness twenty-four hours a day. Again Sir Phineas wished he might do something to better Sara’s lot.
At least he might temporarily temper the dowager’s spitefulness, and at the same time glean some inkling of what distasteful chore she meant to assign. “Apropos of preferences, mention was made of Carlin?” he prodded gently.
“So it was!” In a very chilling manner, Lady Blackwood smiled. “You may have gathered that my bird-witted niece thinks she’s made a conquest.”
“Yes.” Resigning himself to his fate, Sir Phineas laced
“Lady Easterling is a very lovely young woman. A trifle high-spirited, perhaps.” Sir Phineas strove for tact.
“High-spirited?” Lady Blackwood grimaced. “You mean that she’s as bold as a brass-faced monkey. Pushing! Impertinent! A thorough rag-mannered chit.”
The dowager’s patent disapproval of a niece in residence beneath her roof did not startle Sir Phineas. It was his opinion that the dowager approved of no one, save possibly himself, and that because he made it his policy never to cross her will. Reminded by this reflection of the lady upon whose slender person Georgiana’s will was most often wreaked, he ventured a polite inquiry regarding Miss Valentine’s well-being and current whereabouts.
Though mention of the Prince Regent had failed to divert the dowager duchess from her baleful thoughts, the introduction of Miss Valentine into the discussion earned Sir Phineas a sharp glance. “You are mighty interested in my companion,” she uttered spitefully. “Who, not that it’s any of your business, is at the moment engaged with Confucious! I am not at all pleased with Sara. She is not exercising the control over my niece that I should like. Moreover, the silly twit’s taken it into her head that she deserves a holiday!”
In Sir Phineas’s opinion anyone who passed an hour in company with Lady Blackwood was deserving of a rest, but he was not sufficiently imprudent as to so remark. He had a great deal of fellow-feeling for the plight of Miss Valentine, and also a degree of guilt: Sir Phineas had been the instrument by which the orphaned Sara had been brought into Georgiana’s employ. Her existence in Blackwood House was not happy, he knew, and wished there was some manner in which he might make redress.
“Oho!” The dowager’s keen eyes missed little. “Sits the wind in that quarter? There’s no fool like an old one! I will tell you what I told my niece: put those air-dreams out of your mind.”
Georgiana thought he nourished warm sentiments toward Miss Valentine? Sir Phineas flushed. Certainly he was fond of Sara, appreciated her quiet and ladylike manner as well as the excellent tone of her mind; but the dowager maligned him by viewing his liking for Miss Valentine in so mundane a light. “Fustian!” Sir Phineas retorted gruffly.
“Is it?” As always when she’d caused discomfort, the dowager was in good cheer. “Do not despair, Phineas! Do but execute my commission and I might be so grateful that I change my mind.”
This ray of hope Sir Phineas very wisely ignored. Lady Blackwood was of far too selfish a disposition to so easily give up the meek and self-effacing companion who never uttered a rebellious word. “Twenty-seven makes a poor match for sixty,” he pointed out, hoping to close the subject.
“Balderdash!” retorted the dowager. At rather more than sixty, she did not care for intimations of advanced age. “A chit as unfortunately situated as Sara should be grateful for any offer she receives.”
Unfortunate indeed was Miss Valentine’s situation, as Sir Phineas refrained from pointing out. He need only endure Georgiana’s unpleasantness at occasional short intervals, after which he could repair to his club and regain his composure over a bottle of claret; but Sara must tolerate her employer’s beastliness twenty-four hours a day. Again Sir Phineas wished he might do something to better Sara’s lot.
At least he might temporarily temper the dowager’s spitefulness, and at the same time glean some inkling of what distasteful chore she meant to assign. “Apropos of preferences, mention was made of Carlin?” he prodded gently.
“So it was!” In a very chilling manner, Lady Blackwood smiled. “You may have gathered that my bird-witted niece thinks she’s made a conquest.”
“Yes.” Resigning himself to his fate, Sir Phineas laced
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