Page 54 of The Lady's Companion
In desperation, Susan leaped to her feet, too, and went to stand beside the bailiff. Precious little good this has done, she thought as she glanced at him. We have lost, and a grand old lady is to be ripped from her independence and sent to a certain, smothering death. “You do not understand my constancy,” she murmured. “Iwant to do this for Lady Bushnell, and I know that I can.”
“My dear, all we have are your good intentions!” said Lady Bushnell, her voice rising now. ‘To end this pointless discussion, I don’t scruple to add that Hamptons are not known for constancy!”
It was an ugly phrase and it hung in the air like a bad smell. Susan took a step back under the pressure of it, but could only acknowledge the truth of what Lady Bushnell was saying. Again my father’s reputation has ruined my good efforts, she thought. Well, I will not have it anymore.
The solution came to her as she stood there beside the bailiff. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her sooner, and she permitted herself a smile—the only one in the room just then. I will be thought three parts lunatic by everyone who knows me, she considered as she quickly and coolly weighed the advantages and disadvantages. Here I go, she thought as she put her arm through David’s suddenly. He tensed, but to her relief, did not back away from her. She took a deep breath.
“David, we have not been entirely honest with Lady Bushnell, have we?” she asked, striving for just that certain coquettish modesty she remembered as a fixture with her husband-hunting cousins.
“We haven’t?” he asked, his eyes wide for only a moment. To her infinite relief, she discovered that she had not underestimated David Wiggins. His former careers of felony, poachery, and varying degrees of larceny had fully developed his quickness of mind in chancy situations. Her toes almost curled with pleasure as he sighed, and tightened his grip on her arm. “No, we have not, Lady Bushnell,” he said with a sorrowful shake of his head. He looked at her then, almost as expectant as the others, but only she could see his face, so it didn’t matter.
“No, we have not,” she declared firmly, with what she hoped was just the right touch of embarrassment. “Lady Bushnell, Ithink I know what will change your mind, and we have been a little shy to admit it. I will most assuredly be constant about Quilling. You see, David Wiggins proposed to me, and I have decided to accept him.”
Chapter Sixteen
Susan could not help wincing at the intake of breath from three people in the room. The bailiff staggered back a few steps, but did not relinquish his grip upon her. His face turned amazingly white and she thought for one desperate moment that she was going to have to guide him to a chair and push his head down between his knees. She was almost afraid to look at Lady Bushnell and Colonel March and speculate what they were making of the bailiff’s reaction, but to her relief, they were staring at each other.
“I... I suppose I was a little shy about mentioning it,” David said after several deep breaths of his own.
His words came out in an adolescent squeak that almost made her giggle, but she recovered quickly enough when the bailiff released her hand and put his arm around her waist instead, gripping her so tight that she feared for her ribs.
“My lady, when we’re married, we’ll be quite able to maintain our care of Lady Bushnell,” the bailiff continued, his voice in its normal register now. “I have a house there, of course, but it’s just as easy for me to move into the manor with Suzie. She’s only a few doors down from Lady Bushnell.”
Uncertain of what to make of Lady Bushnell’s silence, Susan braved another look in that direction. Colonel March grinned from ear to ear, but the widow was as pale as the bailiff. “We... we think it’s an admirable solution to your problem, my lady,” Susan stammered.
“I think you have lost your mind, Miss Hampton, and I don’t mind telling you!” snapped Lady Bushnell.
“Oh, see here now, Eliza!” exclaimed Colonel March. “Miss Hampton seems a sensible chit, and I can personally testify thatSergeant Wiggins is the very man I’d want at my back in good times or crises.”
“Edwin, we are talking about marriage, not war!”
“Funny, so was I, my dear,” the colonel said, unruffled by his lady love’s high-pitched agitation. “Miss Hampton appears to know her mind.”
But Lady Bushnell would not be placated. “Miss Hampton, I cannot imagine you so dead to propriety that you would even for the tiniest moment consider a marriage to a man so socially beneath you! Do you know his background?”
“He has told me,” Susan said quietly. “I have no doubts that despite our very different circumstances, we are quite well suited to each other. And didn’t you just say something about my ramshackle father?” she added, trying, but just not quite concealing, the edge to her words. “Perhaps I will be coming up in the world with this marriage, my lady.”
“Miss Hampton, don’t try me! I suppose you have told your father about this?” she asked, the sarcasm unmistakable in her voice. “Even Sir Rodney must have his limits.”
“I have not told him yet,” Susan murmured. “His reaction does not interest me one way or the other, my lady. I am more than twenty-one and I love David Wiggins, and I think that’s about all there is to it. I believe the issue here is continuity of care for your mother, which we are quite able to provide, especially now.”
Lady Bushnell opened her mouth for more argument, but the bookroom door banged open just then and the housekeeper burst in.
“My lady, this will not wait another minute! The invitations have arrived with an error in your name! Your secretary cannot find the invoice for the champagne and the vintner is threatening to take it all back! The chef tells me that unless the pastry cook stops humming the same nasty little song over and over again, he will resign! And there are twelve for dinner!Twelve!” she concluded, drawing out the word and giving it the worth of three syllables.
The door opened wider to reveal the florist fanning himself more vigorously with his few sheets of remaining paper and the modiste coming at him with the tape measure looped ominously. And jumping up and down behind them all was a little man who spoke only French.
The bailiff released his grip on Susan, crossed the room with some long strides, and said a few pithy words to the mob outside before he shut the door on them. He turned to Lady Bushnell. “My lady, you have too much on your plate right now to have to worry about your mother-in-law, as well,” he said firmly, in what Susan was beginning to recognize as his official sergeant’s voice. “Suzie and I will manage fine with her, and while it may not be a marriage made in an aristocrat’s heaven, we have every intention of being most successful at it.”
Colonel March nodded and gathered his sweetheart to his bosom again, where she began to sob. “My love, she’ll be in excellent hands, and it’s one less matter to concern yourself with right now.” He winked at the bailiff. “We can depend upon these two, especially if Miss Hampton marries the bailiff. How steady can you get?”
After another moment’s melancholy and a series of deep sniffles, and a good blow into her fiancé’s handkerchief, Lady Bushnell looked at the bailiff. “For this summer only,” she said, “and then we will see!”
“We’ll begin the banns next Sunday,” David said.
“Not good enough,” Lady Bushnell said, alert again. “That will take almost a month, and suppose something happens to my mother-in-law before then while March and I are cavorting in France?”
“Really, Eliza,” the colonel protested, his face pink. “We are hardly cavorters!”
