Page 20 of To Catch a Husband
‘I do not see that as illogical. Many people fear spiders, for there is something intrinsically frightening about them.’
‘But those in England cannot do one harm, at least, not much. You would get a far worse bite from a pig, for instance, but how many people are afraid of pigs? Very few.’
‘Ah, but could it be that many people are afraid of pigs but conceal it, in case they are mocked, and thus the percentage of the population who are terrified of them is underrated.’
It brought a smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless, and gradually they had resumed a moderate degree of conversation, but it had clouded the evening, and lay between them as a barrier.
‘And how has that in any way helped in my intention that he should ask me to marry him?’ Mary asked herself105as she laid her head upon the pillow. ‘Not at all. He has seen me miserable. Men do not want miserable wives.’ This was of course true, but rather stark. ‘I could have shown emotion, perhaps with a hand across the brow, but not sat there looking distraught. But I was distraught and I do not play at emotions. Do I have to be false to get a husband? And if I do and I succeed, when and how do I reveal that it was not “me”? Oh, why is this so hard, and why do I like him more than the other gentlemen I have met, excepting Harry, who is as a brother? Should I doubt myself for such feelings, or am I trying to make myself believe that a union with him would work? After all, we have met but three times. I must approach this better tomorrow and not be silly, or I will never get my home back.’
Being a woman who believed in common sense meant that the upheaval occasioned in her heart and mind left her feeling as if sinking into a quicksand when she had always stood upon rock. It worried her, frightened her, and made her angry with herself because she was used to trusting her own good sense, and it had clearly flown out the window.
She tossed and turned, nearly tangling herself in the sheets, and when, eventually, she slept her dreams were full of James, and Tapley End being a mirage that faded to nothing, and being watched by a tall man with eyes that were not ‘brownish’, but definitely hazel.106
‘Do you like Miss Lound, Roly?’ asked Tom Kempsey, stifling a yawn as they ascended the main staircase together.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Odd sort of female in a way.’
‘Not in the common style, I grant you,’ admitted Sir Rowland.
‘And unpredictable. Just when you think everything is going along nicely, she goes all prickly. I saw it at dinner. She shut up like a clam at one point, and yet had been quite animated beforehand.’
‘I think one has simply to learn to understand her. I do not think her flighty or fickle.’ If Tom had not heard what had passed between them, he was not going to elucidate.
‘You really do like her.’ Tom grinned. ‘Well, you know your own mind best, but I think “learning to understand her” might be a long and even painful process. She looks the sort of female quite prepared to slap a fellow’s face if she takes umbrage.’
‘Better that than putting an arrow through his chest.’
‘What?’ Tom stopped upon the stair and turned to his brother.
‘I did not tell you. She very nearly put an arrow through me yesterday.’
‘Good Lord, Roly. Keep out of her way if she is inclined to the murderous.’
‘Oh, she was not trying to hit me. If she had, I doubt very much I would be still breathing. It was an107accident and not a wayward shot. I may tell you about it tomorrow, over breakfast. Now, I am for my bed, and you, yawning away, are obviously in need of yours.’
The brothers parted at the door to Tom’s bedchamber, and Sir Rowland went to his own room and made his preparations for bed. Having finally dismissed his valet, he lay with his arms behind his head, not at all sleepy, but very thoughtful, and with all the thoughts about Miss Mary Lound.
He had been attracted to her at that first meeting, to her form and figure and to her personality, despite the fact that she was wearing old clothes for a practical purpose and with no attempt to make her look beautiful, and that she had shown spirit which might have led the critical to describing her as ‘a termagant’. She did possess a sense of humour, which surfaced when she was not being defensive, but the problem was that she was defensive for much of the time. He wondered what had made her like that, and whether he might be able to prove to her that she had no need to be defensive when with him. He might be wrong, and she was genuinely the shrewish sort, but his instinct said otherwise. She was pragmatic and not romantic, she admitted, but then was a romantic female intrinsically one with whom he would wish to spend his life? The ones he had seen sighed a lot, and looked as if anything untoward would give them a fit of the vapours. Miss Lound would undoubtedly sniff at the possession of a vinaigrette, rather than at its contents. Her situation, it was easy to see, was unenviable. It looked108very much as if she had no guarantee of even a roof over her head if her mother should die, or the means to live in any comfort. From what he had gathered from Mrs Peplow, the current Lord Damerham was not worthy of the name, and had sold the estate to the family’s historic ‘enemy’ for a paltry price and left the country. His attachment to the family acres had been non-existent, but it was equally clear that Tapley End meant the world to his sister, who faced potential destitution. Was it surprising that, with her life having been turned upside down, she had a rather cynical view of the world? No, it was not. Well, on the morrow he would discover more, a lot more, about the house which he now owned, and the young lady who had grown up in it. He knew which was the more intriguing.
He fell asleep, and dreamt of a mermaid with long, mellow gold tresses, who rode side-saddle on a trout the size of a whale.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
Lady Damerham found her daughter bright and cheerful next morning, and was suspicious. She was too bright and sparkling.
‘Are you sure about giving Sir Rowland the history of the house?’ she asked, nervously.
‘Oh yes, and I did promise to do so. I think Tapley End deserves that he know its past, and I will give him credit for appreciating that he ought to do so. I am intrigued about the changes he mentioned.’
‘You will not like them, dearest. It will upset you.’
‘Not necessarily. I wondered for several years whether we were right to keep those high-backed oak chairs in the hall, for all that Papa bought them because they date from the time when Sir Robert and the Lady Elizabeth restored the house. It does not make them comfortable,110or even safe to sit upon. To be honest, it was so unusual for Papa to buy anything for the house …’
‘He did not actually buy them,’ admitted Lady Damerham. ‘He won them at cards playing against Lord Snitterfield.’
