Page 24 of Miss Determined
“A word in your office would be appreciated, sir.”
Papa gave his only begotten son a dyspeptic look. “Very well. Pennypacker, off to the sweet shop with you. A man needs a bit of sustenance if he must toil in legal vineyards the livelong day. I fancy an apple tart if they have any. Pear will do, or even cherry.”
“Yes, sir.” Pennypacker carefully capped the ink bottle he’d just uncapped, threw sand on a document with exactly two words of fresh writing on it, and trotted for the foyer.
Papa passed his coat and hat to a yawning Northam. “Young Purvis, you first, then Jones, and I am not in the mood for bad news, gentlemen.”
Young Purvis entered his father’s office with every intention of putting the whole increasingly complicated Tavistock mess squarely on the desk of its originator, but where to start?
“See to the fire, young man. Old bones can’t be expected to cope with a frigid office.”
Young Purvis closed the office door and dutifully tossed a scoop of coal onto the flames, though Papa’s office was on the enviable side of toasty.
“What’s on your mind, boy?”
“Miss Hecate Brompton,” Young Purvis said, surprising both his father and himself. “She is due to return to Town tomorrow.” Young Purvis was on good terms with the Brompton house steward and had made it his business to know of Miss Brompton’s impending arrival.
Papa settled behind his desk. “Send her our felicitations on a safe journey from Hampshire. Request a meeting at her earliest convenience, and be sure to invite her father. If Isaac Brompton runs true to form, he’ll try to bribe an advance on his allowance from us, but he’ll leave any actual meetings to the girl.”
Miss Brompton hadn’t been a girl even when she’d been a mere adolescent and new to her wealth.
“Mr. Brompton,” Old Purvis went on, “will be happy to know that we’ve at long last found an appropriate suitor for his daughter’s hand. I’ve been saving Miss Brompton these several years past for a special suitor.”
Oh, Papa…“For Lord Tavistock?” Miss Hecate was a fine figure of a woman, but she had to be in at least her seventh Season, and that was rounding the math in the direction most flattering to the lady.
“Her fortune, under our careful management, has grown considerably in recent years. She can afford a marquess, and for all Tavistock knows, he needs Miss Brompton.”
Miss Brompton had all but managed her own funds. She read foreign newspapers, talked to herbwomen, dowsers, and strolling players, and ran a sailors’ charity. Sailors, according to Miss Brompton, noticed the most interesting developments in foreign markets. Her curiosity was nothing short of rapacious, and she somehow took all these bits and bobs of information and turned them into wealth.
She put Young Purvis in mind of a female Worth Kettering, though she hadn’t been cursed with the prominent beak Kettering stuck into all manner of businesses.
“Miss Brompton might have a thing or two to say about whether Tavistock will do, sir. He’s passionate about winemaking, not exactly of a staid demeanor. Miss Brompton takes divine services very seriously, by contrast.” She collected information in the churchyard as well and called her reconnaissancebeing neighborly.
Papa assembled his props—draft settlement agreement, ink bottle, quill pen, spectacles. “Tavistock will go to church once the Season begins because the churchyard is a prime place to flirt. Besides, eternal salvation and securing the succession are separate undertakings. If you’ve no other—”
“But, sir, Miss Brompton notices details. She reads every line of our reports and sometimes even corrects our figures.” And those corrections—trivial inaccuracies—were always brought to Young Purvis’s attention in the most polite, roundabout correspondence. “I daresay married to Tavistock, Miss Brompton will readhisreports, and Tavistock is not in the habit of gainsaying his womenfolk.”
Papa donned his spectacles. “I much preferred the old marquess. That fellow knew how to go on. Brooked no dramatics. Made a decision, and that decision was respected. If he was given sound advice, he followed it, and there was none of this… this… unbecoming intrusiveness into the minutiae of business that the younger generation favors. Why did the Heavenly Arbiter put solicitors on earth, if not to see that business is properly conducted?”
When had fleecing clients become synonymous with proper business, and who ever said that lawyers were sent by heaven?
“Miss Brompton does have those lamentable intrusive tendencies, sir, and she will surely notice that St. Nebo’s has been requesting funds for a new roof for the past decade. That is the only living Tavistock holds, and his father was parsimonious toward it. If Tavistock is to make a good impression on the lady, then neglecting the only house of worship in the marquess’s care will not do.”
This whole discussion was vexing. Tavistock ought to look after St. Nebo’s because that’s what a decent fellow with a title and means did, but then, nobody had shown his lordship the myriad letters from old Mr. Raybourne, so how could his lordship even know the matter had been neglected?
And none of this was convincing Papa of the foolishness, the utter absurdity, of attempting to tell Hecate Brompton whom she should marry.
“My boy, you surprise me,” Papa said, taking out a silk handkerchief bordered in gold embroidery. “Your attention to such a detail suggests you have the potential to one day make me proud to call you my son.” He polished his spectacles with the handkerchief. “A gesture in the direction of St. Nebo’s is the very thing. I will mention his lordship’s conscientious attention to even an obscure rural parish when Miss Brompton calls upon us. Of course, we had to nag him into doing his duty, but he did heed our guidance now that he’s preparing to take a wife.”
Forgive me, Miss Brompton.“I’ll prepare the bank draft for your signature, sir.”
“Do that, and don’t stint. Don’t be lavish, but don’t stint. Any excess goes to the poor box, and so forth.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I send Jones to you?”
A triple rap on the door suggested Pennypacker had returned from the bakery.
“Not just yet. A hardworking man intent on legal complexities wants to start his day in peace and quiet, and you’ve given me something to consider. Perhaps his lordship should make a few other gestures in anticipation of his nuptials. Donate to a few charities of my choosing.”
