Chapter 9
Dear Mr Fitzroy,
I do hope you have recovered from your swim with no ill effects. After our meeting at the lake the other day, I cannot stop thinking about how fetching you looked in your wet shirt
No, no, that wouldn’t do at all! I scrunched up that letter, took a clean sheet of paper, cleared my mind, and began again.
Dear Mr Fitzroy,
This letter may seem forward, but I would like to apologise for my manner in the carriage from Overton last week when you were kind enough to offer my sister and me a ride home.
Furthermore, my behaviour at the lake the other day was most unladylike, and I fear I may have said some things that were out of turn and may have caused you offence.
I do hope you can forgive me for both incidents in question and bear me no ill will and that we can converse in the spirit of friendship at future social events.
Yours most sincerely,
Miss Felicity Blackburn
PS: I have your hat.
There, it was done!
I blotted the ink, read it over a couple of times, and then a couple more for good measure. Wanting a second opinion, I left our bedroom and went in search of Harriet. It was the day after Mr Pringle’s visit, and she’d been floating around the house and not able to settle on any particular task. I found her in the dining room, snipping the ends off some cornflowers and arranging them in a vase with a dreamy look on her face.
‘Can you have a look at my letter? I’m about to send it to Mr Fitzroy, and I need to make sure I haven’t said anything that will cause him further offence.’
Harriet wiped her hands on her apron and took it from me. After perusing it, she handed it back. ‘It is brief, but to the point, which I think he will appreciate. He doesn’t seem like a man who would endure long-windedness.’
‘No, that is what I thought. I couldn’t allude to any of the information that Mr Pringle shared with us in private as it might suggest that is what prompted me to write it in the first place, hence why it is so short. Is that a bad thing? Maybe I should expand it.’ I felt anxious all of a sudden that Mr Fitzroy would not be soothed by my apology and be riled up even more.
Harriet placed a hand on my arm. ‘It is a good letter, Fliss. Do not fret. I think if you write something longer, the true intention would be lost. I believe it should be well received. And thank you for writing it. After all, you may have to keep company with him in the future if Mr Pringle ... Evan ... proposes.’
Her tone was confident to the point that if she’d said ‘ when he proposes’, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But it seemed Harriet wasn’t counting her chickens before they’d hatched—outwardly at least.
‘Where did all these flowers come from?’ I asked, watching as she added a bunch of meadowsweet to the arrangement.
‘Mr Humbleton was out walking early this morning and gathered them.’
‘Oh. ’
I readied myself to walk into Steventon to take the letter to the post shop for the afternoon delivery. I was in the hallway, tucking a stray strand of hair into my bonnet, when a figure loomed behind me in the mirror.
Startled, I turned to find Mr Humbleton hovering with an expectant look on his face. My heart sank. Please, God, don’t let him want to chat , I prayed. I won’t make the post.
‘Cousin.’ I nodded to him and edged towards the front door. ‘I’m afraid I have urgent business in town—’
‘I won’t keep you,’ he intervened. ‘But might I present you with this small token?’
From behind his back, he produced a posy of flowers, the same cornflowers and meadowsweet that Harriet had been arranging. It was tied with a yellow ribbon.
My eyes narrowed. Had he asked her to make it for him? If so, why had she not said? No, I suspected he had been labouring at the task in secret up in his room with myself as its unwary beneficiary.
Reluctantly, I took the posy that he proffered as what else could I do?
‘Thank you,’ I said, quite at a loss as to what to say or do next.
Luckily, that was solved for me. With his cheeks reddening, my cousin bowed and mumbled, ‘Good day, Miss Felicity.’ Then he scarpered up the stairs, leaving me to gaze in frustration after him.
Mr Humbleton’s attention was not just grating, it was now decidedly worrying. First the off-key singing, now the flowers. It appeared he had formed a one-sided attachment and was indeed pursuing me without any encouragement!
Much disturbed, I plonked the posy in a vase on the sideboard, leaving it to its unwatered fate, and exited the house.
I was so caught up in my own thoughts all the way into town that I nearly bumped into Jane coming out of the post shop as I was entering.
‘Hello! What good timing. I was just thinking about you. I was posting a letter to Cassie.’ She made to grasp me on the arm and kiss my cheek but paused, seeing I wasn’t in good spirits. ‘What has happened? You look like you need cheering up.’
‘Oh, indeed I do. Just let me post this.’
I took the letter from my pocket and we went back into the post shop.
‘Who are you writing to?’ she asked curiously.
‘Mr Fitzroy. As penance for my sins,’ I said in a low voice.
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do tell.’
‘Not here,’ I whispered with a quick glance at the postmistress, who was sorting mail for the afternoon delivery behind the counter. Mrs Sutton was a notorious gossip. It was bad enough that she would see I was writing to Mr Fitzroy, but what else I had to say would be a veritable feast for her ears.
But I dutifully handed over my letter and whisked Jane out of the shop before the woman could ask any probing questions.
When we were well out of earshot, I invited Jane to come home with me for luncheon, and she readily agreed. ‘My eyes need a rest. I’ve been writing nonstop this morning.’
‘Cassie’s letter?’ I asked. ‘You’ve been writing to her a lot lately.’
‘That and other jottings,’ she replied after a moment’s pause. ‘Anyway, tell me what’s been happening. Why are you writing to Mr Fitzroy?’
As we strolled down the lane arm in arm, past the open fields, the scent of newly harvested hay drifted to my nose, reminding me of Mr Pringle’s sneezing fit. I wondered how much I should reveal of what he had said about Mr Fitzroy’s upbringing. I decided to err on the side of caution.
‘I’m attempting to get along with him for Harriet’s sake. I came across him bathing at the pond yesterday, and I’m afraid I rather made fun of him.’
‘Oh dear. How exactly?’
‘He wanted me to leave, and I insisted that I wouldn’t. I said that the only way he could come out of the water decorously was for me to throw him his shirt with a rock in it.’
Jane chuckled. ‘I would have loved to have seen that! Did he glower at you?’
‘He did, quite ferociously! But he managed to put the thing on after half a dozen attempts. Then he emerged, and I didn’t try too hard to avert my eyes. I may have commented quite boldly on his ... appendage.’
‘Flissy!’
‘I know, it was most unladylike. But it was right there and difficult to ignore. He was not best pleased, even though I was complimentary.’
‘I’m sure.’ Jane sounded like she was struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Oh, how I wish I had been there hiding in a bush to witness that. I can picture the displeased look on his face so clearly!’ She chortled with glee.
‘I knew you would laugh. I think it was the thought of telling you about it that spurred me on.’
‘You can’t blame me for your deplorable behaviour! I assume the letter is to smooth his ruffled feathers?’
‘Indeed. Mr Pringle, or Evan, as he told us to call him, took tea with us yesterday and seems quite enraptured with Harriet. So I felt it my duty to reconcile with his irascible friend and write him an apologetic letter for whatever good it may do. Oh well, it is sent now.’
Jane tightened her grip on my arm. ‘No matter. Let him make of it what he will. But that is good news about Harriet. I am so pleased for her, especially after that hiccup when he went away.’
I smiled. ‘You will see for yourself how she blooms.’ My smile faltered. ‘Speaking of blooms, I received a posy from our cousin before I left for town this morning. I confess I am worried about what he intends by it.’
‘He does seem rather taken with you, if his singing the other night was anything to go by.’
‘It is not from any encouragement on my end, I assure you,’ I returned hotly.
‘I know.’
‘Honestly, I’m beginning to think that he might actually go down on bended knee, and I do NOT want to marry the man.’
‘What has your father said?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well, it may just be a passing fancy in Mr Humbleton’s head, and he will not take action.’
‘I don’t suppose I could distract him with talk of Cassie? She may think him a worthy suitor when she returns ...’
‘Definitely not!’ said Jane, sounding horrified. ‘I know he is your cousin, but I don’t want him as a brother-in-law! ’
So that put an axe in the neck of my plan, but I couldn’t blame her .
‘ My advice is to do your best to thwart his advances for the rest of his visit,’ Jane continued reassuringly. ‘Let us pray that he grows disillusioned and leaves before attempting any formal proposal.’
‘Amen to that!’ I exclaimed, and a cow in the adjoining field lifted her head and mooed loudly as if in agreement. We ran off down the road towards home, giggling like fiends, and I felt calmer about the situation. Jane always knew the right thing to say.
When we arrived, I deposited Jane in the dining room to natter with Harriet and went off to tell Sue there was an extra guest for luncheon plus check there was enough to eat. Now that we had Mr Humbleton staying with us, we’d had to increase our expenditure where food was concerned. He didn’t have a small appetite either.
Sue took the news graciously. ‘I’ll slice some more cold roast beef, miss. And there’s plenty of boiled potatoes and greens.’
‘Can we round it out with some bread rolls and butter too, perhaps?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, miss. I’ll ask Mary to serve shortly.’
‘Very good. Thank you, Sue.’
Upon entering the dining room, I was disconcerted to see Mr Humbleton was seated at the table and directly across from where I usually sat. He tended to take luncheon with Papa in his studio. But today, for some reason, he had decided to grace us with his presence. I sighed to myself. So much for a pleasant meal with my friend and my sister. Now we had to listen to him wittering on.
He was holding court with Jane and Harriet, and they were nodding politely as he told them of his visit around the parish and whom he had met. I still didn’t know why he was bothering. Mr Pringle intended to hold his ball this Saturday, and Mr Humbleton was leaving a few days afterwards. So he hardly needed to make himself known in Steventon.
Mary came in with our plates of roast beef, potatoes, and greens, along with a dish of mustard; and the meal commenced. She’d just returned with a platter of bread rolls, which she placed in the middle of the table along with a slab of butter, when Mr Humbleton cleared his throat. ‘Do allow me to butter you a roll, Miss Felicity.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ I said, reaching for a roll at the same time he did. Our hands collided mid-air. His fingers were cold and clammy, like touching a dead fish; and I drew mine back instantly, feeling repelled. He took the opportunity to snatch a roll and place it on his plate .
I grasped the butter dish, but he took hold of the other side.
‘I insist,’ he said and proceeded to tug it towards him. I tugged back. There was a short, but sharp wrestling match, one that I was determined to win. But I didn’t have a good-enough purchase, and he wrenched it away, triumphant.
I had to sit there silently and wait for him to butter the roll. When he was finished, he bowed and held the plate aloft, and I took the roll with a grudging ‘Thank you’. How I hated him forcing me into a situation that felt vaguely intimate, especially when I was trying to thwart his advances! I wanted to give him no encouragement, not even the chance to butter me a roll!
Jane and Harriet were witness to this pantomime, and I knew they would be feeling sympathy for me (and also amusement). I would if I were them. I cut into my roast beef, hoping that he wouldn’t ask if he could spread mustard for me too. Thankfully, he didn’t offer.
We had just begun on a berry tart for afters when Mary popped her head in to say we had another visitor: Aunt Snelling. She always turned up at mealtimes, so she’d probably sniffed we were having luncheon, and it had taken her the first course to get ready and trot over.
‘Please show her in, Mary, and bring another plate and spoon,’ said Harriet, proceeding to cut a slice of berry tart .
Shortly, the lady herself entered and protested that she did not want any tart, then allowed that she would take a slice—but no cream.
‘Mr Humbleton, Miss Austen. Gracious, there’s quite the gathering here! And your father ...?’
‘Papa is working,’ Harriet replied, handing her a plate. ‘He’s been inundated with requests for new suits for Mr Pringle’s ball on Saturday. Fliss and I may be required to help with stitching if his apprentices cannot keep up.’
‘Gracious!’ Aunt cut a spoonful of tart and popped it into her mouth. ‘Actually, I will have a little cream, just to sweeten the flavour. Your cook has been too light-handed with the sugar.’ She added a large dollop. ‘Speaking of Mr Pringle, I heard something just now that concerned me greatly, and I thought I should come over straightaway and check the validity of it.’
‘Oh?’ Harriet leaned forward with a frown. ‘He is not ill, is he?’
‘No, no. It is not about him per se. It is about his friend, the stern-looking gentleman who is staying with him ...’
Her gaze turned to me, and my heart skipped a beat, having a notion of what was to follow.
‘I’ve just heard, and from good authority,’ she continued, ‘that he is to receive a letter from Miss Felicity Blackburn this afternoon. ’
I groaned inwardly and raised my eyebrows at Jane, and she shook her head slightly in commiseration. News did indeed travel like lightning here, thanks to the dedication of our postmistress to spread local gossip.
‘I cannot fathom why you are writing to him, dear,’ said Aunt, sounding perturbed. ‘He is the most objectionable man I have ever encountered. So sour-faced!’
‘I would like to know the same thing,’ added Mr Humbleton in an accusatory tone. I felt like saying it was none of his business.
However, this could get back to Papa; and if he got wind of how I’d behaved with Mr Fitzroy, he might curtail my freedoms (such as they were). I had to come up with something—and quick. But for once, my mind went blank, and I could not think of a single reason as to why I might write to him.
‘I ... Um ...’
‘It is because of me,’ supplied Jane hurriedly, seeing I was floundering. All eyes turned to her.
‘You, Miss Austen?’ said Aunt in surprise.
‘I told him at supper the other night that he could borrow one of Father’s books from the library. But then I remembered that I had lent it to Felicity ...’
I saw where she was going with this and gratefully picked up the thread. ‘Yes, and I simply wrote a short note to let him know that I had finished with it and would bring it along to the ball on Saturday ...’
Blast! Now I would have to find a book to take!
‘But there is a sizeable library at Ashbury,’ said Aunt, sounding confused. ‘Surely, he can find something to read in there?’
‘It is a special edition ...’ I trailed off lamely. ‘I would not willingly write to him, but Jane asked me to as a courtesy.’ And neither would I again if it was to become public knowledge within a few hours!
‘I should hope not,’ interjected Mr Humbleton. ‘Especially when you are about to be my—’ He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. ‘Please excuse me, ladies. I must talk to your father.’ He got up from the table, addressed Aunt with a somewhat awkward bow, and practically ran from the room.
About to be his what? Alarm flooded my being, and I felt like I was hurtling towards a nasty occurrence in the near future. I needed to gather my troops for battle.
I took a deep breath. ‘Aunt, I believe that my cousin, the one who has just left us, may be intending to propose imminently.’
‘To whom, dear?’ she asked mildly, not paying me much mind since she was eyeing the rest of the tart.
‘To me! You must agree that he is not a suitable match! ’
Aunt carefully cut herself another small slice of tart. ‘You weren’t keeping this, were you?’ she asked Harriet, who shook her head.
‘Aunt!’ I was growing desperate.
She sighed. ‘I don’t entirely understand why you’re so opposed to him, my dear. He seems like a kind and sensible young man. You could do a lot worse, Felicity.’
And with that, I deduced exactly what was going on. Papa knew of Mr Humbleton’s intentions and approved since it meant protection for me. I would never have to fear being homeless if something happened to him.
Furthermore, I suspected that he’d told Aunt and had asked her to help smooth the way. That was why she’d hustled around here so quickly when she’d heard I was writing to Mr Fitzroy.
Doors started slamming up ahead in the hallway of my life.
All I needed now was for Harriet to join the throng, and my fate would be sealed: I’d be engaged to Mr Humbleton.
To me, it was a fate worse than death.