Page 7 of The Husband Gamble
The storytellers agree on the troop of riders. Did they trot or gallop or merely walk in through the great doors?
They were beautiful, all make that clear, and the man (or angel or devil or elf-king) at their head was the loveliest of all. Dressed in white, crowned in gold, with long flowing locks. Jewels glittered from rings and brooches and even the cuffs of his boots. A long cloak (or perhaps wings) streamed behind him.
[“The Abduction of Amaryllis Fernhill”, inCollected Tales from the Villages of England, by a Gentleman]
* * *
The example of Lord Hythe, Lord Joseph, and Captain Hudson had apparently turned the tide in Rilla’s favour. But as such things go, something gained was balanced by something lost. The more respectful and attentive the men grew, the more defensive and difficult became the ladies.
Several days into the party, Rilla had grown tired of conversations that stopped as soon as she got near, and of ignoring pointed remarks about jilts muttered just loud enough for her to hear.
Miss Thompson, in particular, sharpened her words with darts aimed precisely at Rilla’s vulnerabilities. Little remarks, delivered in a sweet tone, always with a wide blue-eyed innocence.
“One must trust one’s elders to know what is best for one. Do you not agree? If one’s guardian—one’s uncle, for example, makes a match, it behoves a lady to be grateful.” “A lady’s reputation is her most important asset, and anything is preferable to the loss of it.” “A large dowry will cover a multitude of sins, I suppose.”
The sly looks at Rilla confirmed that she was the targets of these nuggets of wisdom. Rilla ignored both remarks and looks. Miss Thompson’s nastiness brought its own punishment. Rilla had watched her sabotage her chances with one gentleman after another, as she exercised her malicious wit in their presence. Mr. Smythe was the only admirer she had left, and the pair of them deserved one another.
However, Rilla felt impelled to intercede when Miss Thompson turned her tongue on Miss Fairleigh. Miss Fairleigh might not be the brightest button in the box, but she was friendly and eager to please. Miss Thompson apparently found these traits objectionable.
Rilla ignored the remarks that Miss Fairleigh was too innocent or not clever enough to notice. Indeed, they became a useful barometer. Those who laughed were not worth Rilla’s time, and the gentlemen who looked most disgusted or uncomfortable were those Rilla favoured with her own attention.
However, one afternoon, Miss Fairleigh was packing the tea things neatly on to a tray. Miss Thompson said, “In the name of the Good Lord, Miss Fairleigh, are you trying to do the servants out of a job?”
Miss Fairleigh bit at her lower lip, a sure sign that she was perturbed. “Why no, Miss Thompson. The servants are very busy, however, with all the guests. I thought to be kind.” She turned to Rilla. “Might a servant be dismissed if I help, Miss Fernhill?”
Rilla reassured her. “No, indeed, Miss Fairleigh. I am sure they appreciate your kindness in tidying up after our tea. May I pass you some cups?”
Miss Fairleigh smiled beatifically. “Mama says that the path to Heaven is paved with little acts of kindness,” she confided.
Miss Thompson’s gaze sharpened. “Kindness won’t save you if you associate with the wrong sort of people, Miss Fairleigh,” she warned, turning to glare at Rilla in case anyone in the audience did not understand what she meant.
“I daresay you would consider the Lord Jesus the wrong sort of people, Miss Thompson, since Miss Fairleigh is tidying the tea cups for him.”
Miss Thompson wiped her momentary confusion away with smug contempt. “I have no idea what that person is talking about.” She never addressed Rilla directly. “Except I am sure my governess warned me about taking the Lord’s name in vain,” she added, and she composed her expression into one of pious superiority.
Lord Joseph Enright chuckled. “Rather brilliant of you, Miss Fernhill.When you do this for the least of my children, you do it for me. Right?”
He sent his smile around the rest of group. “Miss Fernhill is pointing out the passage in the Gospels where Jesus indicates that lack of charity is the worst sin of all, and I must agree, Miss Fairleigh. Your kindness is an example to us all.
Lord Joseph’s father the marquis had recently been raised from a vicarage to the peerage on the death of his cousin. The young ladies therefore swallowed his opinion with every appearance of compliance, and afterwards were markedly kinder to Miss Fairleigh.
* * *
Four days into the interminable week, Hythe had made no progress in his bride hunt. It had taken him the space of an afternoon to discover that Miss Thompson was an unkind shrew, and if he doubted his own experience, the men who knew her from London confirmed it. One by one, he spent a little time with each lady at the house party. This girl was too frivolous. That one was waspish.
In any case, he did not find himself in the least attracted to any of them. Surely it was not too much to ask that the woman to whom he would vow to be faithful for the remainder of their days was one he actually wanted to bed? He could not imagine physical intimacies with any of the ladies currently on offer.
Except Miss Fernhill. She had grown prettier day by day—not the flashy kind of beauty some of the others had, but a quiet loveliness that comprised her character as well as her features. Her attractions were manifold, and not least of them was her mind. She commanded his attention whenever she was in the vicinity. Even when she wasn’t, he could not stop thinking about her.
Perhaps he was making things worse by spending so much time with her. But nobody else here challenged him to think the way she did. When he succeeded in winning a discussion point with her, he felt as if he had persuaded the entire House of Lords— yes, and the Austrian and Prussian negotiators.
What an ambassador for Britain, she would have been, if she’d been a man. She knew several languages, understood the current political situation better than most people of his acquaintance, male or female, and was invariably charming and composed.
The company that had been inclined at first to treat her with disdain was now, with few exceptions, thoroughly enjoying her company, and at least two of the gentlemen were seriously considering a courtship. Hythe felt she could do better than a penniless second son or a half-pay naval captain, but at least the lady would have choices.
Last night, those two gentlemen had discussed their inclination with the assembly, and Hythe had learned a little more about the circumstances surrounding Miss Fernhill’s disappearance.
Mr. Smythe had challenged Captain Hudson’s interest in the lady. “Surely, you would not wish to marry someone who jilted her betrothed at the altar?” he jeered. “Would you not fear the same treatment?”
