Chapter Two #2
“Thank you.” Mrs. Dere beamed her approval.
“And Mrs. Barstow, if I am to judge by the eagerness I see upon other faces gathered here, I know exactly what Mrs. Langworthy’s family will ask of her.
Let the young people have their fun. Between Mrs. Eveleigh, Mrs. Terry, Miss Jarvis, Mrs. Langworthy, you, and me, the one category which will outnumber all others will be that of Chaperone! ”
“Sweeting, if I might have one quick word?” her mother asked that night, laying a hand on Frances’ arm before she could go upstairs with her candle.
The request was not unexpected. Following dinner there had been music, cards and tea, and Frances would have called the evening a triumph, if not for her mother’s quietness and her own niggling uneasiness.
An uneasiness which pricked at her whenever she observed Mrs. Dere’s self-satisfaction.
Granted, Mrs. Dere often appeared self-satisfied, but on this occasion Frances knew that she was herself the cause of that look, and for once she thought it was not an easy thing to be a Favorite.
“Of course, Mama,” she answered.
“My dear girl, I want only to say that you are of an age now where some think of marrying, but you will not find me pushing you to do so. God has been good to us, and I have no expectations that, if you do marry, you will be obliged to do so for any reason beyond deep affection. You are an intelligent girl, and I know you have learned from your sister Jane’s misfortunes to seek character and sufficient means over handsomeness and dash, but the Barstow definition of ‘sufficient’ will be more modest than the world’s, I daresay.
Your sisters were able to follow their hearts and have given us sons and brothers of whom we may be proud.
Good men. Respectable men, though they have neither titles nor wealth.
Men who will love and care for them. I ask no more of you, Frances. ”
“Yes, Mama.”
Mrs. Barstow drew a long breath. “Therefore, my child, if Mrs. Markham Dere in her good intentions, should…recommend any person or any decision with which you feel uncomfortable, you must consult your own feelings. I will back you in any case, even if I should think the world of him myself. You are young. Let this summer be a time for enjoyment. Tomorrow will arrive soon enough.”
But to Frances the next day took its time in coming, for she lay awake some hours, pondering her mother’s kindly advice, so different from Mrs. Dere’s little private speech with her.
“I have spoken at length with Mrs. Eveleigh about the party of Christ Church dons,” Mrs. Dere murmured beneath Maria’s dutiful performance on the pianoforte.
“And I want to assure you that Mr. Midgecomb is in no way earmarked for Jane Eveleigh. Her mother tells me that the young man ‘cannot tear his eyes from her,’ and there is likely truth to that, for why else would he attend Mr. Eveleigh’s lectures on temperance so faithfully?
But Dorothy has also lamented Jane’s seeming indifference to him. ”
“Does Miss Eveleigh prefer one of the others?” asked Frances. “Having seen none of the young men as yet, I would like to know if there is one I should avoid liking, if I can help it.”
“Nonsense,” said her benefactress roundly.
“You are all of you creatures with free will. If you should like one, and he should return your feelings, Miss Eveleigh’s partialities are manifestly irrelevant.
One is sorry for her, of course, but if you were to renounce your claim, it would not follow that he would then transfer his affections to her. ”
All true in the main, but Frances wondered if Mrs. Eveleigh and her Jane might be having an identical discussion and arriving at identical cold conclusions.
Even so, she thought, I would rather not injure her, if it can be avoided. Indeed, if Miss Eveleigh would allow it, I would far rather be friends!
If Mrs. Dere sounded rather heartless toward her friend Mrs. Eveleigh’s wishes, she told herself she had good reason, and it had not suited her to share the particulars which led to her umbrage.
For, inexplicably, Dorothy Eveleigh only made known her intention to invade Perryfield territory after having spoken with the Greenwood Hall agent!
It quite beggared Alice Dere’s belief. Would one steal into a neighbor’s arbor and plant flowers in the sunniest patch, without first asking permission?
There was not the least danger of the Eveleighs supplanting the Deres atop the village hierarchy, but novelty was novelty, and if Greenwood Hall were to become a whirl of gaiety and matchmaking that summer, naturally all eyes would be drawn thitherward, away from Perryfield and its concerns.
Furthermore, did not she, Mrs. Markham Dere, have her own young friend whom she would like to see put forward?
She did! As Dorothy should be well aware by now, Miss Frances Barstow was Alice’s especial charge.
Therefore, if anyone were to be snatching up eligible Oxford bachelors under the very nose of the first lady of Iffley, it ought to be Frances!
She might be comparatively portionless, but a distant cousin of the baron was nothing to sneer at.
Honestly, who was Miss Jane Eveleigh but the daughter of a lowly provost?
“It seems you have made your plans,” she had replied to her friend’s announcement, so stiffly that Mrs. Eveleigh saw at once her error and rushed to make amends.
“But I haven’t, Alice! I only consulted the agent because I wanted to see if it was even possible before I spoke with you.
Because of course I could not make a success of it without your help.
It would be too obvious that I hoped to matchmake.
No, indeed, a summer house party would be unthinkable without additional young people!
And you have told me how responsible you feel for all of the baron’s poor relations at Iffley Cottage.
Could you not round up as many of them as possible?
They need not stay at Greenwood Hall, of course, living so near, but they might come every day and be considered members of the party.
Oh, Alice, I would forever be in your debt.
And—and Jane’s might not be the only match made, you know.
While you and Lord Dere have managed to marry off some of those pitiful dependents, with luck you might dispose favorably of another. ”
But Mrs. Dere was still smarting, and this patronage sat ill with her.
“Hmm. It happens that I am in no hurry to see Frances—Miss Barstow—married,” she answered contrarily.
“She is not yet one and twenty. And with her two older sisters married and gone, and their sister-in-law Mrs. Langworthy now enjoying a little income from her naval husband, the burden upon the baron is not as great as it used to be.”
Mrs. Eveleigh shrank at this rebuff, and seeing she had overplayed her hand, she wondered if it were too late to recover her deposit from Mr. Beck’s estate agent.
But Mrs. Dere continued to make her own calculations, and before the visit ended she began to see other aspects to the proposal. For one thing, it would be a helpful lesson for Dorothy Eveleigh to see how much more skillfully she, Alice Dere, could manage a young lady of marriageable age.
“My dear Dorothy,” she said therefore, as she rose to take her leave, “I have given it further thought, and I have decided to canvass your proposal with the Barstows.”
Instantly her friend’s happiness was restored. “Oh! Alice! Do you mean it?”
“I do. But I make no promises, and even if they agree to participate, it might all come to nothing. I do wish I might have met these possible suitors myself, however. I am trusting in your judgment of them, Dorothy.”
“You will not be disappointed,” Mrs. Eveleigh assured her, her confidence reviving.
“I have done a little research and promise you any one of them would make an acceptable match for our girls. And to show my good faith, I will share with you that Mr. Midgecomb has the advantage in wealth and name, and Mr. Hearne in appearance (though he and his father are estranged, and unless there is some rapprochement, his income will derive solely from his mother). Mr. Tilson is very fond of the races, but otherwise no one has a bad word to say about him, except that he is not handsome. There. You see? Now you know all truly, Alice, and we will just have to see what happens.”