Джорджетт Хейер - The Foundling

Here, the abigail who was folding her young mistress’s dresses in silver paper, betrayed by her air of barely suppressed excitement that the rumour that was already running through the house had reached her ears. She greeted the governess with a gasp, and an involuntary question: “Oh, miss, is it true?”

Miss Abinger ignored this impertinence, and trod over to the dressing-table, before which Harriet had seated herself. “You have crushed your gown a trifle, my dear but it will not do to keep your mama waiting, and we must hope that she will not notice it. Let me take that comb!”

Harriet permitted her to remove it from her singularly nerveless grasp. “Oh, Abby, you do not think—?”

“I think your mama will not like it if you do not bestir yourself, Lady Harriet,” replied the governess calmly.

Harriet said, in a helpless way: “No,” and submitted to having her hair combed and tidied. She then rose, and with trembling knees followed her preceptress downstairs to Lady Ampleforth’s dressing-room.

Her ladyship cast one comprehensive glance over her daughter, and exclaimed in exasperated accents: “Exactly so! Your old plain muslin, and I daresay everything packed up already! Well, it will not do! Miss Abinger, oblige me by seeing to it that Lady Harriet changes her dress immediately! The cambric muslin with the double scallop work at the bottom is what she should be wearing, or if that is not readily procurable, the new sprig gown, with the sleeves drawn at the top with coloured ribbons! My Jove, Sale is below, with your papa. You will allow mama to be the first to felicitate you upon the very flattering offer that has been made you!”

“Gilly!” Harriet uttered, in a voice so suspended by surprise as to be barely audible. “Oh, no! surely you must be mistaken, ma’am!”

A look of annoyance seemed to sharpen Lady Ampleforth’s features. “There is no occasion that I know of for these die-away airs, Harriet!” she said. “You are very well aware of your papa’s and my intentions for you!”

“Oh, yes! But I had not supposed—he has never been particular in his attentions—Mama, I did not think Gilly loved me!”

“I can only conclude, Harriet,” said Lady Ampleforth, with a condemnatory glance at Miss Abinger, “that you have been taking novels out of some circulating-library, which is a thing I have never permitted.”

“Oh, no, Mama!” Harriet faltered.

“Then I am at a loss to understand where you can have learnt such trumpery notions, and, I beg you will not make a figure of yourself by mentioning them again! Sale has expressed himself very properly to your papa, and if he and I are satisfied you have surely nothing to cavil at! He is waiting to address you himself. I trust you know your duty well enough to make it unnecessary for me to tell you in what terms you must answer him.”

“Oh, Mama, pray—!”

“Harriet, what is this nonsense?” demanded her ladyship irately. “I will allow it to be a most inconvenient time for Sale to be declaring himself, but so it is always! Men have not the least common-sense! But if you mean to tell me that you hold him in aversion—”

“Oh, no; no!”

“Precisely so! You should be grateful to your papa and to me for having permitted you to become pretty well acquainted with Sale, instead of presenting him to you a complete stranger, as might very often happen in my young days, let me assure you! I did not look for this missishness in you, and I can tell you that it is not at all becoming. You have been a little taken by surprise, and that is forgiveable: I was quite thunderstruck myself. But you will have time to compose your mind while you change your dress, and I am confident you will conduct yourself just as you should. Now, do not be dawdling here any longer, my dear! Bustle about a little, if you please! I shall come up to your bedchamber to fetch you myself in half an hour, and I hope you do not mean to keep me waiting. Miss Abinger, be so good as to accompany my daughter, and to make sure that she is dressed just as she should be! Her maid has no head, not the least in the world!”

“Certainly, Lady Ampleforth,” said Miss Abinger, in her colourless way. “Come, Lady Harriet!”

She laid her hand on Harriet’s trembling arm, and almost propelled her to the door. When she had firmly closed this behind them, she said in a warmer tone: “My dear, try to compose yourself! What is the matter?”

“Oh, Abby, I don’t know!” Harriet replied, in some agitation. “Only I did not look for this, and I do not wish—I do not think—”

“Forgive me, but I had not supposed that you were indifferent to the Duke.”

“Not indifferent, no!” Harriet said, averting her face. “But he—!”

They had reached the half-landing before Miss Abinger replied. She said then: “I believe the Duke entertains feelings of the warmest regard for you, my love. He is a very amiable young man, and one who will not fail to treat you with all the courtesy and consideration one could wish for you. Indeed, I think you are to be envied! I know your mind to be of too nice a tone to care for such things, but you will occupy a position of the first consequence, and you will enjoy great wealth. Reflect that in addition to this you will have a husband who partakes of many of your sentiments, and is, I am persuaded, the model of compliance and good nature.”

“He does not love me,” Harriet said. “It is his uncle’s doing, and Mama’s. I know it, Abby!”

“I shall not dispute with you on that head, my dear Lady Harriet, and I believe it will not serve to discuss it. Yet I must venture to tell you that I do not by any means despair of your happiness in this alliance. You know, it is not commonly the thing for persons in your station in life to make what is called a love-match.”

“No,” Harriet agreed dejectedly.

They had reached the upper floor by this time. As Miss Abinger grasped the door-handle of Harriet’s bedroom, she added deliberately: “You are not always quite at your ease in your home, dear Lady Harriet. I fancy you may be happier in an establishment of your own. But I have said too much, and we shall soon have your mama coming up to fetch you!”

Harriet coloured, but was silent. While Miss Abinger directed the maid to unpack her mistress’s cambric muslin, she waited, looking out of the window between the lace blinds. Her colour faded gradually, and she was able in a few minutes to reply to a chance question with tolerable composure. It was by no means Miss Abinger’s business to dress the hair of her pupils, but she elected to do so, and with so much taste that when Lady Ampleforth came into the room presently she nodded approvingly, and said: “Very well, indeed! I could wish that you had a trifle more countenance, my love, but you look very becomingly. But hold yourself up, if you please! An air of languor can never be pleasing in a girl, remember! Now, if you are ready, we will go downstairs.”

“I am quite ready, Mama.”

Lady Ampleforth preceded her out of the room, but paused at the head of the stairs to take her hand. “There is no need for you to feel the slightest embarrassment, Harriet,” she said kindly. “Sale is a very pretty-behaved young man, and his manners reflect the greatest credit on his upbringing. I only wish your brother had them! I daresay he will do or say nothing to make you blush. Besides, I should not think of leaving you alone together, so have no fears on that score!”

“No, Mama,” said Harriet.

Lord Ampleforth and the Duke were standing in front of the fire in the book-room, conversing in a desultory and uncomfortable fashion. Lord Ampleforth was looking rather more harassed than before; and half an hour of his future mother-in-law’s brisk, managing talk had so much oppressed the Duke’s spirits that he bore the appearance more of one about to face a severe ordeal than of a hopeful suitor. He directed an anxious, questioning look at Harriet, but she kept her eyes lowered, and did not perceive it.