Gail Whitiker - Improper Miss Darling

It was just as well the vicar’s arrival had put an end to her artistic endeavours, Emma thought moodily. Her creative urges had vanished, leaving her no more able to see the beauty in the lily pond than she could in a warty frog. She was angry and upset, yet she knew that directing her anger at Lord Stewart really made very little sense. Had she not questioned the inequity of the match herself? Was she not the one who had expressed concern over Linette’s ability to take responsibility for her decisions? The one who had told her father that Linette was changeable by nature?

Why, then, was she angry at Lord Stewart for having said exactly the same things?

Mr Tufton did not stay long. A quiet gentleman with agreeable manners, he was careful not to wear out his welcome. After enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of seed cake, he spoke to Emma’s father and Aunt Dorothy, saying how pleased he was to meet them and how much he looked forward to seeing them on Sunday. Then, after exchanging a few words with Linette and offering congratulations on her betrothal, he left.

Emma was not sorry to see him go. Not because she disliked the man. There really wasn’t anything about Mr Tufton one could dislike. But the entire time he had been seated in their parlour, Emma had lived in fear of his bringing up Lord Stewart’s visit and that would have been awkward since she had no intention of telling Linette Lord Stewart had called.

‘Had he come to talk about the dinner?’ Linette would surely have asked. Or ‘Had he come to speak to her father about the upcoming wedding?’ And the thought of having to tell her sister the truth made Emma shudder. Such an admission would only have brought on grief and uncertainty, and tears were most effective at destroying harmony in a house.

Then her brother Ridley came home—and that fragile harmony vanished for good.

He arrived at eight o’clock in the evening. Dinner was over and they were all sitting quietly in the drawing room when the door burst open, causing the dogs to start barking as though the four horsemen of the Apocalypse had appeared, and then Ridley blew in like a westerly.

‘Well, here I am,’ he announced dramatically. ‘The prodigal son returned. Have you all missed me dreadfully?’

‘We can scarce speak for emotion,’ Mr Darling said in a dry voice.

But Aunt Dorothy was already on her feet, anxious to greet her favourite nephew. ‘Ridley, dear boy, of course they’ve missed you. And I haven’t seen you in an age,’ she said, kissing him soundly on both cheeks. ‘But what have you done to your hair?’

‘It’s all the rage in London,’ Ridley said, grinning. ‘What do you think, Em?’

Emma looked up. ‘That you look like Caesar and you know what happened to him.’

‘Darling Emma,’ Ridley said fondly. ‘I can always count on you to say the nicest things. And here is little Linette,’ he said, turning to his sister and pulling her to her feet. ‘Who I vow is even more beautiful than when I left.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ridley, you’ve only been gone a few months,’ Linette said, blushing.

‘Nevertheless, there does seem to be an additional bloom on the rose and I suspect that has much to do with the fact you are soon to marry the venerable Mr Peter Taylor,’ Ridley said. ‘Well done, Linny. If all goes well, you might just end up a countess.’

‘Highly unlikely,’ Emma drawled, ‘given that there is an older brother in line for the title.’

‘Ah, yes. Alexander the Great.’

Emma blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Alexander Taylor. Lord Stewart,’ Ridley explained, flopping down in his favourite chair. ‘The lads call him Alexander the Great because he’s a cracking good rider and a dashed hand with a whip. I won’t mind having him as a brother-in-law, I can tell you.’

‘You must be hungry, Ridley,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Shall I ask Cook to prepare something?’

‘You may indeed. I did stop for a bit of overdone beef on the way, but I wouldn’t mind a slice of Mrs Dunstan’s excellent apple pie if there is any to be had.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged. Ring for Jenks, would you, Emma?’

‘So, when are the nuptials to take place?’ Ridley enquired, fondling Rory’s silky head.

Linette blushed. ‘We haven’t set a date yet.’

‘What? I thought you would have been anxious to reel him in.’

‘Really, Ridley!’ Aunt Dorothy exclaimed. ‘The man is hardly a fish to be landed.’

‘Of course not. He’s already been hooked and I am very proud of my little sister for having done so. Imagine Linette snapping up the youngest son of an earl. It certainly trumps anything you or I have been able to pull off, Em. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?’ He grinned. ‘Turned any gentleman up sweet yet?’

‘If I had, I’d know better than to tell you ,’ Emma said, returning to her chair. ‘You would likely tease the poor man to death.’

‘Naturally. What are brothers for?’

‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t quite worked that out.’

‘All right, stop bickering, you two,’ Mr Darling said. ‘Ridley, how are you going on with your studies? Finding the intricacies of the law to your liking?’

For the first time, Ridley looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to write to you about that, Father.’

‘Oh?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you. And I don’t want you getting upset because I have given this a great deal of thought.’

Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Given what a great deal of thought?’

‘My decision to become a solicitor. Or rather, my decision … not to become one.’

His father dropped his book. ‘Not become a solicitor. Why the devil not?’

‘Because I’m really not cut out for it.’

‘Indeed! Then what, pray tell, are you cut out for?’

‘Painting,’ Ridley announced decisively.

Aunt Dorothy frowned. ‘Painting?’

‘Yes. As in portraits.’

‘Of what?’ his father demanded.

‘Of society’s most beautiful and aristocratic families.’ Ridley stood up and affected an elegant bow. ‘Of grand lords and titled ladies, of cherubic daughters and stalwart sons. And of their noble dogs and horses, of course,’ he said, leaning down to scratch Ranger behind the ear.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Linette said, ‘Goodness, Ridley, whatever possessed you to do such a thing?’

‘Indeed! Giving up law to dabble in paints and brushes?’ his father said stiffly. ‘I thought you had more sense.’

‘Sense I have in limited supply, but talent I possess in abundance,’ Ridley quipped. ‘I’ve already completed five commissions and have five more waiting. And they pay me very well.’

‘Then he must be good, Percy,’ Aunt Dorothy commented. ‘The aristocracy are very particular about who they engage to paint their portraits.’

‘Exactly!’ Ridley agreed. ‘They are very particular and I am very good. More to the point, those for whom I’ve done work have passed my name along to others and I actually have more work than I can handle.’

‘And I suppose you expect me to clap you on the back and say, well done, sir, well done!’ his father demanded.

‘That would be nice.’

‘Well, I shall not! Being a barrister is a respectable occupation. One that would stand you in good stead for the rest of your days. The same cannot be said for artists.’

‘Of course not, because we are all licentious reprobates who drink too much and have naked women lying around our studios,’ Ridley muttered. ‘God knows, I’ll probably be dead by the time I’m thirty.’