Page 9 of A Much Maligned Miss

“And did you?” Gervaise asked, leaning back in his chair.

She turned toward him. “Did I what?”

“See someone, or something at the pergola.”

A frown marred her face. “Only myself,” she said vaguely.

Mrs. Ryland leaned forward. “Is she…intoxicated?” she asked in hushed, horrified tones.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” Emmeline said quickly. “She is more likely feverish.” She touched Caroline’s brow, then frowned. From her reaction Gervaise guessed she was not feverish but in fact, clammy. Emmeline reached across the table to pour her a glass of water. She pressed it into Caroline’s hands. “Here, my dear, drink this.”

Mrs. Ryland drew herself up, her expression grim. “Well, we all know what a… What a sad trial she is to her poor mother,” she said stiffly.

“A sad trial?” Gervaise repeated thoughtfully as Emmeline cast an irritated look at the vicar’s wife.

“She means me,” Caroline said confidingly. She leaned forward in her seat. “Didn’t you know? I’m the biggest bitch in all the county. Just ask the vicar’s wife. She’ll soon tell you.”

Gervaise lowered the wineglass he had just lifted to his lips as Emmeline went off in a coughing fit. What the hell?

Mrs. Ryland let out a horrified squawk. “Why, I have never said such a thing!” she protested hotly. “How dare you?”

Caroline swung around to peer at Mrs. Ryland in surprise. “But of course you have, Mrs. Ryland. On every occasion I’ve seen you since I was eleven. You barely wait for me to leave the room before you start commiserating with Mama on my wickedness.”

The vicar’s wife turned an unbecoming shade of puce. “I… I—” Words seemed to fail her, and she turned to her husband, who appeared to be feigning deafness. “Charles,” she uttered feebly. “Make her stop!”

Reverend Ryland cleared his throat. “My dear Miss Halperston,” he started censoriously. “You should not malign your friends and neighbors so.”

“Malign? Me?” Caroline repeated and went off into a peal of delighted laughter. She fell back against the back of her chair, and if Gervaise was not mistaken, actually kicked her feet. He had never seen anyone do that before in real life. “Oh, that’s funny,” she gasped. “That really is too funny, I can’t even think how to make reply.” She wiped her eyes which appeared to be streaming tears of mirth. She gave a happy sigh and lapsed into silence before appearing to notice everyone’s stares.

“What was I saying?” she asked in sudden confusion, turning toward him. “I do beg your pardon; I seem to have lost the thread of our conversation.”

“What a colossal bitch you are,” he supplied helpfully. Appalled gasps rang out all around the table.

“Gervaise!” Emmeline objected hotly.

Mrs. Ryland gave a gurgle and slumped in her seat in an apparent faint. Toppling over to one side, she fell off her seat with a heavy thud.

The vicar scrambled to his feet, a look of alarm spreading over his face. “Er… Help!” he cried feebly.

“Not another one,” Gervaise heard Jeremy groan from the other side of the room. “Come on, squire! You take the head this time, I’ll grab the feet.”

“I had better go and make sure they don’t pile them one on top of the other,” Emmeline murmured, hurrying over to rearrange the sofa.

“Oh yes, that,” Caroline said, nodding and apparently unnoticing of the turmoil all around her. “Thank you.” She beamed at him. “Do you know,” she said chattily, “you’re not as appalling as you appear on first acquaintance. At Lord Faris’s Christmas party I got the impression you were an awful swine,” she confided. “Then, at afternoon tea last week, I thought you were a bit of a cad.”

A smile tugged at Gervaise’s lips. “Did you really, Miss Halperston?”

“Mmmm,” she agreed, nodding her head.

“And what about tonight?”

“Oh, you seem perfectly affable tonight. Though it’s hard to believe that anyone is wholly bad at this precise moment.” She stretched her arms above her head in a surprisingly sinuous manner. “The world is such a beautiful place, is it not?” she murmured dreamily.

Caroline Halperston should not really have it in her to make him sit up and pay attention to her like that, he reflected, watching her arch her back like a cat. He reached for his cigarette case. Etiquette seemed to have gone out of the window, so why should he not indulge himself in a crafty cigarette.

Glancing over to his right, he saw Jeremy and the squire dragging the vicar’s wife toward the sofa where Mrs. Needham still lay apparently insensible. Mrs. Ryland was a good deal more substantial than Caroline’s waiflike mama and the squire was puffing and wheezing.

Emmeline was busily employed moving cushions aside to make way for Caroline’s second victim of the night. “If we lie them side by side, there should just be enough room,” she said optimistically.