The Reckoning (85 page)

Farraline regarded him thoughtfully. 'It is, as I said, a
matter of some delicacy. It's hard for me to know where to
begin, because it involves my making some assumptions
which are going to make me sound like a coxcomb. But to
begin with I want to assure you that I bear you no — on
the contrary, I wish you nothing but good.’

Jasper looked at him warily. 'You said something about
Miss Morland.'

‘
Yes. Yes, I did. Hobsbawn, you will perhaps have noticed
my friendship with Miss Morland?'

‘
I have,' Jasper said shortly.

‘
You may, then, have noticed that I have made very sure
not to do anything to compromise her in any way. I have met
her always in the company of a respectable chaperone, and
preferably in a large group. I wished to be sure no-one could
have any reason to talk about her. I felt she had had enough
of notoriety — none of it her fault, I hasten to add.’

So that was it, Jasper thought with dull resentment. 'I can
guess what you're going to say —'

‘
No you can't, old fellow, I assure you!’

— and I have to tell you you're quite mistaken! Good God,
do you think I would do anything to harm her reputation? I
would never — never —!' He choked on his emotion.

‘
Yes, I know you would never,' Farraline said hastily, 'and
that's precisely why —’

It was no use. Hobsbawn wasn't listening. 'I have never
been alone with Miss Morland, and although I know the
presence of those poor unfortunates we visit is not precisely
what the world regards as respectable chaperonage, yet I
would have thought the occasion itself must have saved her
from any unworthy suspicion —’

Farraline sighed and interrupted. 'If she could hear you
now, the poor dear creature would shake her head and give
you up for lost.’

Jasper glared. ‘If you mean Miss Morland –'

‘Of course I do!'

‘
Then you may be about to make her an offer, Farraline, but until you are officially engaged to her, I'd be obliged if
you would not refer to her in those disrespectful terms, and
save me from the trouble of knocking you down!’

Farraline burst out laughing. 'Hobsbawn, you are a true
Gothic! Positively mediaeval! I really can't imagine why Miss
Morland prefers you to any other man, but since she does –'

‘What do you say?'

‘
Oh yes – that's what I've been trying with all delicacy to
tell you this half-hour, but it seems I'd have done better to
put it more bluntly. Miss Morland is in love with you,' he
enunciated clearly, 'and since I hold her in great – and
completely respectful – affection, I want to know what you
mean to do about it. For I warn you, if you go on breaking
her poor heart like this, I shall very likely have to call you
out.’

Jasper could find nothing to say. He stared at Farraline as
though he had been poll-axed. At last he managed to whisper,
‘You are making sport of me.’

Farraline became serious. No, I'm not. And to do away
with your next objection, I do know whereof I'm talking. I
have a tolerably large experience of women's ways, and I have
taken pains to get to know Miss Morland. Why do you think
she has developed this extraordinary interest in the Benevo
lent Society? Why do you think she spends her summers in Manchester? Why has she persuaded her parents to endorse
your extraordinary building-scheme? My dear fellow, anyone
less wilfully blind than you would have seen how she looks at
you.'

‘But – but – how could she love me?'

‘
A question I've often asked myself,' Farraline said lightly,
‘especially since I was forced to come to the galling conclusion
that she prefers you to me. But if you doubt it, ask yourself
where she was in August, during race-week, when her parents
confidently expected her back home at Morland Place, and
when I had taken great pains to let her know that I would be
in York. Was she not toiling amongst the tenements in your company, and poring over plans for rational dwellings with
you, under the chaperonage of Mrs Droylsden, who must
have the patience of a saint, by the by –'

‘
Good God,' said Jasper. A flood of images rushed through
his mind, and some of them, given this flattering new inter
pretation, filled him with a wild and heady hope. 'Can it be –
are you sure?'

‘Quite sure.'

‘But – but why are you telling me this?'

‘
I've already told you – because I am very fond of Miss
Morland. And I have an odd sort of liking for you, too. And
most of all, I hate waste, and it is such a waste of two
perfectly good people to be going on like this. So now, what
are you going to do about it?’

Jasper was looking at some inner, and sunlit landscape.
‘I've been invited to Morland Place for the Christmas cele
brations,' he murmured happily.

‘
Excellent. An ideal opportunity,' said Farraline bracingly.
‘You can choose your moment to speak.’

The sun went in. 'But suppose you're wrong?' Jasper said.
Farraline sighed. 'Suppose it if you must. But need I remind you of the old adage about faint hearts and fair
maidens? Good God, man, what have you to lose? And what
to gain?’

Jasper straightened his shoulders with decision. 'You're
right. I'll do it! I can hardly believe – but I suppose you are in
a position to know. I do thank you, Farraline. This is
behaving like a friend indeed. I beg your pardon for all my
rudeness to you. It was because –'

‘
I perfectly understand,' Farraline grinned. ‘I'd have hated
me too, if I were you. Let me fill your glass, and we'll drink a
toast – to the lovely Miss Morland, and to your success.'

‘
If I win her, I'll make her happy, I swear it,' said Jasper
earnestly. 'I would die to make her happy!'

‘
If you'll take a word of advice, Hobsbawn, much better
live to do it,' said Farraline.

*

It was unfortunate that Jasper had so many days and so many
miles between his meeting with Jesmond Farraline in
Manchester and his arrival at Morland Place. It gave him
time and space in which to think of all the objections there
were against him as a potential husband of the angelic Sophie Morland. Not least amongst them was his lack of fortune, and
the fact that he was merely manager of the mills her mother
owned. He knew that Lady Morland liked him – in her
generous way she had made that quite plain – but she was
hardly likely to think him a suitable guardian of her only
daughter's happiness.

By the time he reached Morland Place, he had almost
decided not to speak. The difficulties in the way were enor
mous. He only had Farraline's word for it that Sophie cared
for him. How could he find out if that were true without
declaring himself to her? And how could he declare himself to
her without first discovering if there were any chance at all of
her parents' accepting his suit? And how could he speak to her
parents without first knowing whether she cared for him or
not ...?
But his reception was everything that was kind. When he
alighted from the mail at the Hare and Heather, a carriage
was waiting there to convey him to Morland Place, though he
had been perfectly prepared to walk. When he entered the great hall a while later, there was the cheering sight of an
enormous fire under the huge chimney with a living heathrug of dogs toasting their bellies before it. Branches of evergreen
decorated the walls, their aromatic scent vying on the air with
the hot smell of cinnamon and mince pies.

He began to feel a sense of impending comfort and well
being that was almost intoxicating. His life had always been
one of urgent imperatives, amongst which his own comfort
had rarely figured. He hardly knew what to do with the plea
sure of it when Lady Morland came into the hall in person to
greet him, and shook his hand so heartily, and said in such a
believable tone of voice that she was glad to see him.

She conducted him to the drawing-room, and there a
comfortable crowd was gathered – James Morland, Mr and
Mrs John Skelwith, Father Moineau playing chess with the
beautiful Miss Haworth, Miss Rosedale playing spillikins on
the floor with the little boys and being much hampered by the
dog Kai, who would try to join in, but whose paws were not
designed for the business.

But for Jasper there was only one face turned in his direc
tion as he entered the room. Sophie was kneeling on the rug
by the hearth playing with baby Mary. She looked up at him
from a tumble of curls, fragile bare arms touched with fire
light, white muslin gown turned rosy by it. She looked up
with shining eyes, and lips parted in a smile, and such a
delicate, such an encouraging blush colouring her cheeks. He
felt that it might almost have been worth dying there and
then of happiness, except that for the first time in his life, he
thought that there might possibly be even more happiness to
come.

*

On the following day everyone dressed up warmly to go up to
Ten Thorn Copse to bring home the yule-log – a delightfully
pagan ceremony involving much hilarity and singing, and
which Father Moineau seemed to find perfectly in keeping
with his priestly status. He and Polly stumped along side by
side, and noting their cheerful conversation, Héloïse said to
Miss Rosedale, 'What is it that they talk about all the time?'

‘
Philosophy, I think,' Miss Rosedale replied. 'And religion.
And such related subjects.'

‘But that sounds so dull. Would that make Polly smile so?'

‘
Polly is a very unusual young woman. It's a pity really she
couldn't have been a man. There are so few opportunities for
a woman to use her intellect.'

‘
I suppose so,' Héloïse said without resentment. 'I don't
really know, for I never had one. But I'm glad she is happier.
I hoped she might make a friend of you, dear Rosey, but as
long as she confides in someone, I don't much mind who it is.'

‘
I don't think she rates my intellect very highly,' Miss Rose
dale smiled, 'ever since she discovered I have never read
Spinoza. Benedict, no! The ice isn't thick enough yet! You'll
go through!' She rushed off to rescue her boys from their own
daring.