Carrie Bebris - The Matters at Mansfield

“That is why many a proper lady herself becomes a Lady Catherine, attempting to reduce the peril by directing the affairs of others in the manner she determines best.”

Elizabeth considered her own daughter, asleep in the nursery. Every impulse drove her to protect Lily-Anne from tears and tumbles and childhood ills, and eventually from the Henry Crawfords of the world. But there were other ways of protecting one’s children, and oneself, without using the guise of civility to manipulate others in a manner that was in truth not at all civilized.

“I will never evolve into such a ‘lady,’ ” she declared.

“No, you shan’t, for it is not in your nature.” In a lighter tone, he added, “And you have other means of defense.”

He gestured toward the parcel. “Now — deny no longer my pleasure in giving that to you.”

She studied his expression, trying to make out his intent. Failing, she offered him an arch look of her own. “I am all curiosity.”

She removed the wrapping paper to discover a small rosewood case engraved with her initials. She could not imagine what it might contain. “The case alone is lovely,” she said.

“Open it.”

She did — and laughed. “It is a most romantic gift.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“I do indeed,” she said earnestly. “It is absolutely exquisite, and my mere possession of it shall make me the envy of all the other ladies of my acquaintance.”

She lifted it out of the box, turned it over in her hands, and raised her eyes to meet his. “But whatever shall I do with it?”

“Your shooting lessons commence tomorrow.”