The Imaginary Gentleman (18 page)

M
RS
. J
OHNSON ENTERTAINED ANOTHER CALLER
after the baronet left with his cousins. Mrs. Woodruff was denied a glimpse of little Harriet, asleep after the earlier excitement, but was favoured instead with the tale of how the baronet leant close over Miss Morrison while they admired the babe.

“Of course, we have long expected this match in the district.”

“How very interesting!” said Mrs. Woodruff.

Mrs. Johnson leant forward to confide, “I always suspected his heart was taken, for naturally he could have married any young lady hereabouts.”

Mrs. Woodruff could not be expected to be pleased with this statement but chose to disregard it, saying only, “Miss Morrison must be all of thirty!”

“As one ages, one becomes less romantic in one's views, don't you think?”

“Indeed,” said Mrs. Woodruff. “I hope they will be very happy.”

“There is no greater recipe for marital happiness than obliging one's family.” A little frown of distaste crossed the lady's face. “Passionate attachment is not the best foundation for matrimony.”

Mrs. Woodruff made a hollow little sound of polite laughter. “Oh, yes! Romanticism is nothing but nonsense!”

She made haste to finish her tea.

Mrs. Woodruff went home to scold her daughters on their inability to snare a lonely, bumbling bachelor, while his gawkish old spinster of a cousin snatched him up by the simple expedient of gurgling over a baby.

As had happened before, the young ladies did not take kindly to this chastisement.

Miss Evalina declared, with some justice, that she had done her very best to charm the baronet into loving her.

“Time has stood still for me—it was
torture
holding onto his arm
and gazing at him prettily while he bored me to distraction!”

“Sir Richard is the foremost gentleman in the neighbourhood.”

“He is a
dolt
and
blockhead
. I am very glad he will marry someone else.”

“Take your hands off your hips, girl! How dare you defy your mother!”

The girl altered her disrespectful posture, but did not change her point of view.

“I might have married him before …” Evalina paused, blushing.

“Before what?”

“I … at first I thought him only shy. I thought I could make him fashionable.”

Her sister Jane could not stifle her laughter.

“He is too much a fool!” Evalina burst into tears, spun on her heel and left the room.

Mrs. Woodruff fell back in her chair, red-faced with shock. Jane ran over to her mother, knelt at her feet and began to fan her.

“Such disrespect from my own daughter! Your father has set his heart upon her marrying him.”

“Dear Mama, did you not say Sir Richard seemed likely to marry Miss Morrison instead?”

“But if he should offer for Evalina, Jane? What then?”

“If Evalina is determined not to have him …”

“I will not force her, but is it asking so much that she oblige her parents in this one matter? Oh, she is merely in a pet because I scolded her.”

“Perhaps Sir Richard would be happier with his cousin, and she with him. Evalina is very young still.”

“As you are not, Jane!”

“It may be that Evvy will marry before me—what else is to be done? I cannot always stand in her way.”

“You were admired when you played the pianoforte at Oakmont. Perhaps …” her voice trailed off.

“Mama, do not take that path, I beg you.”

“Do you enjoy seeing your younger sister take all the beaux?
If Evalina marries first, our acquaintances will think we have given up all hope.”

“Let them think so. I have not given up hope; and I do not begrudge my sister her admirers.”

“Are you determined to disoblige me, still?”

“Nothing has altered, dearest Mama. I will never marry without your approval and Papa's, but I beg you not to coerce me to marry against my will.”

“Go! Go! I do not want to look at you!”

Jane left the room, and was shortly to be seen in coat and bonnet, walking out towards the little wood of chestnuts at the side of the garden. Her mother sat for some time in a cheerless mood.

The sounds of play roused Mrs. Woodruff at last and she went to the window to watch her three younger children playing at cup and ball on the lawn with their governess. Little Robert saw her first and missed his ball, which fell to his feet. He waved and his sisters stopped their game, all looking uncertain at the sight of their very solemn mama at the window. The governess looked nervous, perhaps fearful that she had somehow displeased her employer. Mrs. Woodruff, whose thoughts had been far from them, suddenly noticed their concern and smiled, blowing kisses to the little ones.

From the sight of a hat appearing to bounce along the top of the hedge, the lady saw that a gentleman was riding up the drive and she went hastily back to her chair to compose herself with her work. What if it were the baronet, come in the hope of seeing Evalina? The visit could hardly be less timely, for Evalina would either hide herself all day with the sulks or appear with red eyes. Despite her agitation, Mrs. Woodruff presented a calm and complacent picture when the servant opened the door to announce Captain Morrison.

To the captain's queries after her family, the lady reported that her husband was in the town, her elder daughter out walking and Evalina unwell. The captain enquired most kindly after Miss Evalina, showing such a gentlemanlike concern for the young lady's health that Mrs. Woodruff felt very well-disposed towards him.

Through the long window, she spotted a glimpse of Jane's grey cape and was able to work out her direction.

“I see Jane has taken the longer path through the wood. That little gate on the other side of the lawn leads into a shorter way. It joins with the other path in a hundred yards.”

The captain accepted this information with a polite interest that made her wonder at his denseness.

“You may wish my daughter to show you the plantation—there is a grove of young trees on the far side of the wood.”

Light penetrated her visitor's mind at last; he took the hint, leaving through the door she opened for him. She moved back a little from the glass to watch unobserved, as the captain raised his hat to the governess, dawdling to call some advice to the children on their sport. The little boy handed the captain his toy and the captain obliged by missing the ball entirely to the great glee of the little ones.

“Hurry yourself, sir, or you will miss Jane entirely!” Mrs. Woodruff murmured.

At last the captain passed through the little gate and she watched as he walked around the turn in the path and out of sight. The next moment, one of the children cried out, “Evvy! Eva
lin
a! Look at me!” Mrs. Woodruff was astonished to see her second daughter run across the lawn, ignoring her little sister altogether, to pass through the gate and hurry as far as the turn in the path, where she paused for a moment before she, too, disappeared.

Mrs. Woodruff considered following Evalina, but dismissed the idea at once. Not only was she quite incapable of catching her, but the picture that arose in her mind of one Woodruff female after another chasing the captain, or each other, through the woods, deterred her.

The captain slowed his pace, as he contemplated the meaning of Mrs. Woodruff sending him to view the plantation with Jane. Did I overdo my praise of Miss Woodruff's pianoforte performance? he thought. I have not paid her any great attention, surely? He felt a little ashamed now, of his motives for that attention.

He heard a sound behind him, the cracking of a small twig, and stopped. Silence filled the woods as he listened for another sound, before slowly turning to see who followed him. At the turn in the path she stood, with flushed cheeks, her dusky curls spilling from the sides of her straw bonnet.

“Oh,
you
are here, Captain Morrison!” Evalina said, half-breathless, half-laughing.

“Indeed it is I, Miss Woodruff,” he replied. Deliberately, he placed his stick beneath the remnant of his arm, and swept off his hat, bowing low. He straightened and she laughed still, then opened her hands, in their pale blue gloves, to let fall two small pieces of stick. Edward looked at them significantly and then at her, and she stopped laughing.

Walking slowly back to her, he stood a foot away, while she looked up at him, the sparkle in her fine black eyes fading into seriousness. He picked up her small, gloved hand, found it trembling and pressed it to his lips.

He did not let it go, but held it against his chest, encased in his.

He could not bear to let it go. If he did so, Evalina would fade before his eyes, her liveliness melt into shadow, her warm beauty cool, her passion turn into a tease. She would prove to be an apparition—a product of his tortured hopes. Am I mad? he thought. How can
she
love
me
? Yet her dark eyes were alive with a passion she could not assume and he could not misread. His very blood responded with a jolt of urgency.

“Evalina … Evalina … Evalina,” he said.

He let out a laugh, cut off, and turned his head away, but she had seen the brief moment of doubt. Evalina wriggled her fingers so that he relaxed his hold and she pressed her hand flat against his chest. Her fingers explored the hardness of his chest, sliding along towards his left shoulder.

How she read his fears—and she was but a girl! He took her hand again. “I loved you the moment I saw you,” he said. In truth he had wanted rather than loved, but that was then.

“You looked so cross,” she said.

“Forgive me.”

“I knew how I appeared—so inconsiderate of your feelings in staring.”

“All the world is thus. And I have had enough of the world's pity.”

“Then I shall give you none.”

They looked at one another. Humour lit his eyes. “What will you give me instead?”

“Everything else.”

Evalina wanted to laugh, to turn it into a joke, but solemnity overwhelmed them both. She looked at his mouth: it was serious. In the clear green of his eyes, she saw that here was an entire person of whom she knew almost nothing.

She leant towards him, raising her face to him, watching his mouth, moving as though towards a kiss.

He glanced quickly away up the path.

“I must first speak to your father,” he said.

“Why must you?” A little temper flared. “This is too old-fashioned of you altogether.”

He gestured to the path and they began to walk.

“I must because I am not what he has in mind for you, his favourite child.”

“Jeremy is his favourite child, of course.”

“Jeremy is favoured because he is the eldest son and his heir. You are his favourite, not as a matter of course, but because you are as you are.”

“And what am I?”

He looked at her upturned face. “Bewitching.”

She was satisfied. “Papa admires you tremendously. He read out every word about you from the newspaper, long before he thought he might meet you.”

“He praised me as a soldier does and would have praised a private with the same warmth—but never given him his daughter. Pray trust me … dearest Evalina.”

They walked on, chancing to take quite the wrong direction, and failed to meet Miss Woodruff, who returned to the house alone.

O
N THE EVENING OF THE
next day, Sir Richard sat in solitary state in the dining hall, looking into the shadowy room. He did not enjoy his port half so well alone, and wondered where Edward could have gone.

It was pleasant to think of Laura, awaiting him in the solar or drawing room every evening from now on. He was not fond of travel, and, as things stood nowadays, she would cling to home, needing the protection of her husband and his position to shield her from the dangers that threatened her sanity. Safe within the walls of Oakmont, she could draw to her heart's content and take her daily walk in the pines. Perhaps he would walk with her for it would not do for Laura to be overtaken by melancholy alone upon the hill! She might have a friend such as Miss Woodruff calling on her. He recalled those moments when Laura held Mrs. Johnson's babe and they doted upon it together, and raised his glass to the banners.

Behind him, Michael rolled his eyes ever so slightly. At least there were no ghostly visitations when his master was at home, but sometimes the baronet seemed as peculiar as Miss Morrison. For a moment Michael pictured the two married, as gossip predicted below stairs in every house in the district. He imagined their children, overgrown scrawny objects, inheriting all their parents' worst features and taking some of the gloss off Michael's status among his peers. Despite his fondness for Miss Morrison, he hoped that Sir Richard would choose the lovely Miss Evalina Woodruff.

Yet she seems the type who would be always ringing the bell, he thought.

Michael's musings were interrupted as Sir Richard rose and thanked him kindly for his attendance, as he always did, so that Michael was filled with remorse for his disrespectful thoughts.

Passing through the gallery, Sir Richard met the captain, just returned.

“Edward, wherever have you been?” he asked.

“I called upon the Woodruffs and they asked me to dine with them.”

“You are in uniform—where is your gold lace?”

“I may not wear full uniform except on the most formal occasions, as you know, Cousin.”

“Miss Evalina would tell no tales. Was she much taken with your medals?”

Edward looked at him oddly. “Why think you of her first, Richard?”

“I think Miss Evalina would fancy a military man, as many ladies do.”

Edward laughed—he could not help himself. “Perhaps she was taken with something in my appearance,” he said.

“You are a handsome fellow! Now, I imagine a man who wanted to win the eldest Miss Woodruff must display his perfections in less worldly ways!”

The baronet moved towards the drawing-room door. “Wait a moment, Richard,” said Edward. “Do you think that I might want to marry Miss Woodruff?”

“Nay, Edward. Why do you make so much of everything that I say?”

“Richard, I am very much afraid you are thinking of Miss Evalina for yourself.”

“Miss Evalina!” said Sir Richard. “I never cared for her, nor she for me. Her parents may have pressed her into an alliance, but it is not in my nature to marry under those circumstances.”

“No—you are an excellent fellow.”

Sir Richard put his hand on his cousin's shoulder and said, “I think you should know that I've made your sister an offer of marriage.”

“Laura?”

“Laura, of course.”

“And?”

“She asks for a little time, Cousin, but I believe this offer is more welcome than the first.”

Edward grasped his hand. “This is the perfect outcome for us all.”

Sir Richard wrinkled his nose in self-deprecation. “She's not taken me yet, Edward.” He straightened and said, with touching formality, “If Laura does me the honour of becoming my wife, you have my solemn promise to place her health and happiness first, above all else, for the rest of our lives together.”

Edward could not but be grateful and expressed his feelings in the way best suited to him—he was not a sentimental man—yet the discovery that the troubling care of his beloved sister was likely to be placed in such careful hands, moved him almost to tears.

“I scarcely know how to thank you, Cousin, and most fervently hope for a happy outcome.”

Sir Richard clapped him on the shoulder and they moved into the drawing room.

 

Edward stood on the hearth, facing his relations. Laura was seated on the sofa by Sir Richard, while Elspeth leant back in her armchair.

“You seem very serious, Edward,” said Elspeth.

“You will understand when you hear what occupies my thoughts.”

They all stared at him. Elspeth flapped her dainty hands. “Well?”

“I have made an offer of marriage to Miss Evalina Woodruff and am happy to say that she has accepted me.”

There was a moment's silence.

“Miss
Evalina
Woodruff?” asked Laura.

“Indeed yes. Why do you say
Evalina
in that emphatic fashion?”

Laura rose. “You took me by surprise, that is all. Let me congratulate you.” She kissed his cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, dearest Edward.”

Elspeth, not to be outdone, stretched forward her hands to him and he came to her, took one of her outstretched hands and helped her to rise. She kissed him on both cheeks.

“That is wonderful, Edward. Forgive us our surprise. I believe a courtship was never conducted so secretly nor so swiftly!”

“Indeed, Elspeth, I went to Lewton Hall yesterday, with the
intention only of enjoying Evalina's company. However the chance arose …”

Edward was brought up short by a flash of purest excitement, on recalling the sight of Evalina in the woods, beautiful, beguiling Evalina, all but offering herself to him. He saw that his relations looked at him in silence. “The chance arose.”

“There is nothing like a naval man for speed of action!” exclaimed the baronet. “How I admire you for it!”

“I have learned that opportunities passed up may never come again.”

Sir Richard nodded. “This is splendid news, Edward.”

“I knew I could not presume upon the colonel's approval.”

Elspeth fired up. “You—Captain Morrison—could not
presume
?” Edward dropped his cousin's hand and turned, surprised at her sharp tone. She continued: “What are the Woodruffs to the Morrisons—the oldest family in the district? Colonel Woodruff dare not aspire higher than a Morrison for his daughter, surely?”

“My situation in life lends me eligibility, Elspeth, but it is not easy for a military man, such as the colonel, to give his favourite daughter in marriage to a man who is …”

“Monstrous, Edward!” Elspeth put her hands over her ears.

Laura touched Elspeth's arm. “Do not be angry at such a moment as this. Let Edward explain himself.”

Elspeth uncovered her ears and sank into her armchair. “Do not imagine I will be demonstrating gratitude to a Woodruff,” she said.

Ignoring her, Edward said, “When one has given over one's life to the protection of the realm, then duty to the King and to the realm becomes all in all. When I was in active service for his Majesty, I felt for those retired as unfit for naval life, not only pity but a certain contempt … no, that is too strong a word … one feels a certain disregard for them.”

“How cruel, Edward,” said Elspeth.

“We save our tender feelings for private reflection on those we love at home; on board ship our friendships must be more robust.”

Laura said, “Yet the colonel admires you.”

“For what I was in the past, perhaps. When I spoke to him this morning, I feared he would object, but he did not—I believe Evalina was there before me. I hope you are happy with my choice?”

“You have not known her long—what can you know of her character?”

His eyes lit up with a private pleasure. “From the first moment, there passed an understanding between us.”

“How romantic!” said Elspeth.

“Love at first sight!” said Sir Richard. He began to laugh. “What did you tell me on the very night before you met Miss Evalina?”

“I really don't recall,” said Edward, with a flush on his cheeks.

“You said that there can be no such thing as love at first sight.”

“Did I? What a piece of arrogance on my part.”

Laura wondered if it were in relation to her that Edward had made that dismissive remark. And what a business Elspeth had made of how little she could understand Mr. Templeton's character.

“Such objections do not apply to my brother,” said Elspeth.

She opened her fan and, over it, looked at them, each in turn. “I so want to see you all happy, my dears!”

“Do not forget yourself, in the promotion of marital bliss, Elspeth,” replied Laura.

“Myself?” cried Elspeth, as though referring to a person of whom she had never had a thought in her life.

“I shall be married in six weeks,” said Edward.

“So soon?”

“Some relations of Evalina's set off for India in December, and Mrs. Woodruff is eager to bring the wedding forward.”

“India! What an adventure!” She shuddered. “Where will you live, Edward?” she asked.

“Evalina is much taken with the cottage.”

“Wintern Cottage?” asked Laura. It was Edward's house, of course. Always she had known he may live there some day—had welcomed the thought.

“Yes, I believe you showed her a sketch of it.”

Had she been looking at the drawing as her possible new home
even then, Laura wondered. Now she will be mistress there, not I—the dependent spinster.

“The principal rooms are very small,” said Elspeth. “How will you manage?”

“I have lived in quarters very much smaller, but Evalina must be properly accommodated, of course. I will add to the building—throw out a wing on the west side and lay out the grounds anew.”

“It will not be so much a cottage when you have finished with it, Edward,” said Laura, endeavouring to conceal a certain sadness.

“No, indeed.” He looked at Laura keenly. “You do not regret the loss of it, Laura? Since Aunt Morrison passed away, you have no use for it, I think.”

“No, indeed I would not.” Laura needed no reminder that, as an unmarried lady, she couldn't reside anywhere respectably with only servants for company. Her eighteen-year-old sister-in-law would be considered an adequate chaperone—due to no more than marriage.

“Of course, you will be often with us.”

“Thank you.”

“Evalina has asked me particularly to tell you that there will be no changes to your own room without consultation.”

“Please thank her for her thoughtfulness.” Laura tried to fix a smile to her face. Already Evalina assumed the right to be generous about Laura's own room, in which every article of decoration had been chosen for Laura's own pleasure and purchased with her own money. All could be swept away, in a few words from Evalina.

Edward sensed that Laura tried to assume a look of unalloyed pleasure and suffered a pang of guilt. Overcome by passion, he had seized at happiness, with barely a thought for the future, let alone his sister's predicament. What man would not—seeing that delectable creature saying, without words,
I am yours
.

Realising that she seemed to care only for herself, Laura gave Edward a look of wry affection. She knew something of the pain he had suffered; had wept over his fevered ravings, understood that he was not yet accepting of his disablement. To lose his affianced bride must be painful for any man, but to lose her in the way Edward did—cast
aside as repulsive—was a blow from which he could scarcely be expected to recover. For how else could one see it? No one deserved happiness more than he. It was small wonder he seized at the chance when a lovely young girl fell in love with him.

Sir Richard was giving orders for a bottle of the best champagne to be brought up from the cellar. There must be jollity before Laura could creep away to her room.

 

The candle cast a small circle of light upon the page, upon Laura's hand and the pen. Beyond it, her bedroom was all shadows, pressing in around her.

Laura laid down the pen and thought for a moment, before beginning again.

Through the window, Laura saw that there was no moon and the night lay upon the forest with impenetrable sombreness.

No other path lay open to her; Laura knew herself fortunate in having that degree of choice. Still, she could not prevent a dark dull sorrow from settling in her. She picked up one of the pillows plumped for her comfort and hugged it to her, before throwing it back onto the bed. Outside the window, beyond the light of the candle, she could just make out the pine forest—a vague black murk. She peered up, seeking a star, but saw not a one.