Page 17 of Scales and Sensibility
So there really was only one thing that she could do.
Elinor looked up, met her uncle’s gaze, and steeled herself to be Mrs. De Lacey once more.
“Mr. Hawkins is a fine young man, too,” she said brightly, “and his estate is meant to be delightful. He’ll be quite a catch for some lucky young lady!” She paused, then widened her eyes as if struck by sudden inspiration. “Why, perhaps you ought to invite him to Penelope’s début! The timing is so fortuitous, after all. Aren’t you and Lady Hathergill putting together a houseparty for the event?”
“Well…” Sir John frowned, glancing down again at the letter in his hands. “We’ve invited a few people to come down this week to make up numbers at the dance, but…”
“Perfect,” Elinor said, and smiled with the serene confidence of a woman who never worried about other people’s opinions. It felt astonishingly liberating. “How fortunate that the two of you should meet in this way.”
“I…don’t know,” Sir John said. “I can’t think what Penel—that is, what my wife would say. It’s not a full houseparty, you see, just a few—”
“I’m quite certain your wife would be delighted to have such an eligible young man in attendance for Penelope’s début,” Elinor said. “After all, you are inviting other gentlemen to stay at the house, aren’t you?”
Sir John frowned harder. “Only a few friends from town. I thought we needed more numbers in attendance at the dance, so…”
“Well, then,” said Elinor briskly. “Lady Hathergill will be delighted to have such a handsome young guest for Penelope to dance with at her début.Andso will Penelope, I expect.”
Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat. A faint flush tinged his cheekbones. “Mrs. De Lacey—Sir John—you are too kind, both of you, but I wouldn’t wish to cause any inconvenience. As I said, I was planning to make my stay at this inn, rather than imposing on Sir John’s hospitality in such a way.”
If Elinorhadbeen herself, she would have let the matter drop already, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But Mrs. De Lacey, she was certain, would never give up so easily—and more importantly, she knew which other guests had been invited. She’d written out most of their invitation cards herself. Benedict Hawkins would need every advantage he could get if he was to compete with those gentlemen of fortune and debt-free estates.
“Nonsense,” she said. “How could it be an imposition? Sir John, do you really mean to say that the hospitality of Hathergill Hall is too limited—tooprovincial—to host a young man of good estate, recommended to you by an old friend?”
“Er...” said Sir John. “No, but…well, no. Of course not.” He squared his bull-like shoulders. “Of course we’d be delighted to have you stay, Hawkins. Couldn’t possibly let you languish in an inn, could we? Not when old Crawford himself recommended you.”
“Well…” Benedict Hawkins hesitated. For a moment, Elinor thought she saw a flash of actual reluctance cross his face.
For heaven’s sake. He wasn’t going to turn the offer down, was he? She found herself leaning forward, as if she could mentally urge him on.
If he wanted to marry Penelope, he couldn’t possibly refuse! If he still wanted to marry Penelope…
“You are too kind, Sir John,” said Benedict Hawkins, and smiled. “I accept.”
Elinor subsided back into her chair. Her pulse was beating faster than it should have been. Disappointment, illogical and fierce, clutched her throat.
Of course he still wanted to marry Penelope. Why wouldn’t he?
And now she was going to help him do it.
Sir Jessamyn burped loudly, in perfect satisfaction, straight into her face.
* * *
It wasn’tuntil the end of breakfast that the awkward questions arose.
“Shall I order your carriage, Mrs. De Lacey?” Sir John said. “I can’t leave my own horse here, but if I ride alongside—”
“My carriage?” Elinor gave a light laugh. She’d had the whole of breakfast to prepare, but she still felt her chest tighten as she widened her eyes in a semblance of surprise. “Why would I still have my carriage?”
Both of the men at the table looked at her as if she had suddenly started speaking Spanish.
“I’ve sent my carriage back to London,” Elinor said, and let the concluding phrase “of course”linger unspoken in her tone. “I knew I shouldn’t need it here, and I expected that you would be relieved not to stable my horses during my stay.”
Both men were still staring at her wordlessly.
She tried to give a trilling little laugh, like Penelope’s. It came out more like a squawk, half-strangled by nerves. Sir Jessamyn’s head swung around, and he angled his head to stare at her inquisitively.
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Hawkins, “but do you mean to say you arrived in the middle of the night and didn’t even keep your carriage with you until the morning?”
