Page 17 of An Amiable Foe
She lifted inquiring eyes to Perry. There was a hint of surprise there, and he couldn’t help it if his explanation sounded more like a defense. “Vernon was over and mentioned you by name, so my friends asked for an explanation.”
“To be sure. After all, I was the first to live in Brindale.” She looked past him to where the castle could be seen in the distance, and the sight of it seemed to cause her to deflate. “Of course, I have a different home now.”
“I hope you will join us for dinner one of these evenings,” Lorry said, ignoring both her melancholy tone and Perry’s express warnings. He had a sudden fear that she would accept, showing her to be even more artless—or less innocent—than he had first believed.
She shook her head resolutely. “It would not be seemly. I do not, in general, attend societal functions of any nature.” She looked behind her as Sarah hurried from the direction of the cottage to meet her.
“I must be off. Good day,” she said, dropping a general curtsy in their direction, before turning to walk with her maid toward the western gate that led to the village.
Perry thought he had escaped any further comments about Marianne and was in the process of congratulating himself when Lorry sidled up to him. “I thought the bottles of Burgundy were a find, but it appears Brindale has offered you a treasure of even greater worth.”
“Don’t think of it,” Perry said firmly. She was strictly off-limits, and he could only hope his friend would hear him.
Mrs. Malford had outdone herself with their first dinner that night, and Perry was pleased to see his friends partaking liberally of everything set before them. Vernon had sent a note explaining that they should start the meal without him, as he had a family obligation to attend to first but promised to come for the cards.
They were sitting around a shared bottle of port, his friends already in high revelry, when Vernon eventually arrived. Raife fiddled with the salt cellar that had been left on the table while the others spoke, appearing not to pay heed to any of the conversation, but Perry had come to know that this was just an act. Raife was much more awake than he let on.
When Vernon was seated at their table with his glass ofportoin front of him, a lull settled over the conversation. Neck folded his arms and sat back. “Are you originally from Kent? Who is your father?”
“Spent my whole life here,” Vernon answered with pride. “M’father is squire for the eastern coast of Kent. We live at Grinnell a mile or so from here.”
“Where were you schooled?” Lorry asked, and Perry felt for Vernon but didn’t know how to stem the inquisition. It seemed as though he were on the opposite end of a firing squad, although only two questions had been asked.
Given the flush that lit Vernon’s cheeks, he must have felt the same. “The squire wanted me close by to learn estate business, so he hired tutors.”
“Shame you’ve never had a formal education. It’s a great load of fun,” Neck said. “Well, except for the studies.” Vernon wasn’t given a chance to respond, because Lorry picked up the thread.
“And so you’re an intimate of Miss Edgewood’s. She’s a rare piece of beauty, isn’t she? I don’t suppose your two families tried to set the two of you up?” Lorry gave the appearance of making idle conversation, but Perry did not like the direction in which it was headed.
“Shall we try some fishing tomorrow?” he proposed, but Vernon did not let the matter drop.
“There’s some interest there. We shall see what the future holds.” He put his glass down and set his hands on his knees. “But I imagine Marianne will soon see the benefits of marriage, now that she no longer has the security of her castle. Her relationship with my family is of long standing, and she would be foolish to turn down such security too quickly.”
“You’d better hurry before Lorry makes a stab at it,” Neck said under his breath, his remark nonetheless perfectly audible.
It was not well done of them to discuss Miss Edgewood so openly, even for gentlemen who had a tendency toward the bawdry whenever they were far from the company of women. Raife remained quiet throughout it all, merely lifting an eyebrow as though such matters were beneath him. Perry was as irritated as he could be for the sake of a woman he could hardly claim to know, but Vernon was no longer able to contain himself. He grew quite red and jumped out of his seat.
“I’ll not sit here and listen to Marianne’s name be sullied. Whatever gentlemen may speak of in their own time, their conversation should not involve the name of an innocent maiden. And not one of you”—he pointed at each of them but kept his gaze longest on Perry—“is worthy of her. So stay away from her.” He enunciated each of the last five words, then grabbed his hat and gloves and stormed out of the room.
Raife dropped the spoon in the salt cellar. “As much as it pains me to admit it, he is not wrong.”
Perry remained silent as Neck and Lorry made a snide remark at Vernon’s expense before turning the conversation to other matters. After a brief reflection, he decided that Raife was not entirely correct in his agreement with Vernon. If Perry was bent on wooing Miss Edgewood, he would make certain he was worthy.
CHAPTERNINE
Having Sarah working beside her brought Marianne immense comfort. In the day and a half she’d spent without a servant, she had learned to value the maid’s assistance even more. With just the two of them at the cottage—she would not count Miss Fife—it would not be long before their relationship turned to friendship rather than mistress and servant.
Miss Fife had never been and would never be the companion or friend Marianne needed, and apart from the Vernons, none of the village families had ever paid her any heed. She supposed it started with her being a mere child when her parents died and therefore beneath their notice. Then, when she had grown enough to make friends with other girls her age, there had been no one to sponsor her among the local families. Her parents had been civil but had not worked on developing village relations, content to live at Brindale Castle. It was only because Mr. Vernon had occasionally applied to her father in his duties as magistrate that she had even been permitted to frequent the Vernon family at all.
When she became old enough for invitations to balls or suppers, those invitations never came. Miss Fife was beneath the social status of the other important families in the village, and she did not have a congenial nature or desire to make herself agreeable to society for the sake of her charge. Mrs. Vernon had attempted to bring Marianne to balls and parties when she had come of age, but after years of solitude, the thought terrified Marianne. She grew tongue-tied around people her age and felt more comfortable with ones like Joe, the blacksmith, or Mrs. Malford. What likely did not help matters, despite having a small independence of one hundred guineas a year from her mother, was that she preferred investing money in running the castle rather than purchasing clothes that were modish. After all, if she was not going to go about in society, why would she need the latest fashions?
Now, things were changing. Having Mr. Osborne’s friends from London invade the intimacy of her estate made her feel shabby in ways she never had when dipping polite curtsies to familiar faces at church. Being forced from the haven the castle had provided her, she was beginning to see the value of learning to dress correctly and move about in society. It had been foolhardy to think she could avoid it forever. However, dress and manners were not something easily learned, and they would become a problem for another day. She had enough to worry about with turning the cottage into a home.
“I’ve swept the ’earth clean in the spare bedrooms, miss. However, I fear we ’ull need to have the chimney sweep come in. There’s a buildup of soot, and it’s that what makes the fire smoke there.” Sarah bustled about the drawing room, looking hardly worse for wear despite the task of cleaning the hearths. She always managed to look tidy.
That morning, Marianne had asked Sarah to test the chimneys in each room to see which ones were usable and which were not. This she was forced to do after Miss Fife woke her up in the middle of the night, complaining that there was too much smoke in her room and that the chimney wasn’t drawing properly. As much as Marianne’s weary bones had screamed to be left alone so she could go back to sleep, she couldn’t ignore the danger of a room that was not properly ventilated—not after losing her parents in such a manner. She roused herself and saw that, true to Miss Fife’s word, the fire in her chimney was more smoke than flames. Rather than disturb Sarah for something she could not fix, Marianne gave up her room to her companion and slept on the chair in the drawing room.
Now she stared at Sarah, suddenly tired. She sat, brushing the dirt off her work apron—an item that would need to be washed as well, though she had worn it only one day. At least Sarah was here to help with laundry. She dropped her chin in her hands.
