A Banbury Tale by Maggie MacKeever

teaching his lordship a lesson, were the opportunity to come her way.
    Letty, no stranger to the emotions that beset young ladies, studied Maddy dubiously. “You must not set your cap at him, my dear. Wilmington will never make you an offer. I trust I do not shatter your hopes, but he’s a devilish high stickler and will never wed where there is no fortune, if he weds at all.”
    Maddy blushed furiously and protested that such a thought had never entered her mind. The Earl might be an extremely handsome man, with his dark curling hair and side-whiskers, and those green-flecked eyes that sat so strangely in his tanned face, and he was decidedly a leader of fashion, if in a somber style, but Maddy could only consider his manner arrogant and ungentlemanly. Besides, he was quite old, having reached at least his thirty-fifth year. Maddy put the Earl out of her thoughts. It became increasingly clear that Letty considered her niece’s marriage a monumental task, despite the Duchess’s comments to the contrary. Maddy thought regretfully of the country, where she’d been a belle.
    Letty surveyed her niece’s downcast countenance. “Of course, you shall see London, child,” she said, for she was not a heartless woman, “and have your season, as I promised. Even now your cousin Kenelm waits to take you for a drive.” She paused to pour herself a draught. “To wed with undue haste would give rise to scandal, but we must keep our main objective in mind. I’m sure you would not wish to see your father put a period to his existence because of your lack of cooperation.”
    “No, ma’am.” Maddy couldn’t imagine her feckless sire engaging in any such act.
    “And I am sure,” her aunt continued, “that you are too good a girl to either throw your hat over the windmill or form a lasting passion for a gazetted fortune-hunter.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Maddy contemplated the irony of the latter suggestion. “You may make yourself easy on that score.”
    “Then we are in accord.” Letty sank back onto her pillows and passed a frail hand across her eyes. Maddy understood that the interview was at an end.
    * * * *
    It was a source of some relief that Maddy’s cousins did not seem to share in the knowledge of her circumstances. “Mama was in one of her takings this morning,” said Alathea Jellicoe, a plump damsel with light brown hair and eyes. “Was she still cross when she spoke with you? She gave Kenelm a terrific scold, for one of Mama’s friends reported that he was seen entering a house of vice.”
    “It was no such thing!” retorted her brother. “I trust I may attend the theater without falling into dissipation.” He flicked his horses smartly with the reins.
    “Not according to Mama. I daresay she’d feel differently if you’d chosen to escort her.” Alathea giggled, and turned to Maddy. “Mama quite despairs of Kenelm. He has no liking for Society, and even worse, wastes his time on useless inventions and in rough company. He was even privileged to assist Richard Trevithick, who is considered one of the greatest mechanical engineers of our time, with his steam engine, which runs on rails.” Alathea’s tone was spiteful, for she had not been among those privileged to witness the exhibition of the locomotive “Catch Me Who Can.” “Mama’s displeasure is often so great that she is forced to take to her bed, but Kenelm has no understanding of her exquisite sensibilities.”
    “Mend your tongue,” growled the object of these sentiments, intent on the handling of his reins.
    “You’re a beast, Kenelm Jellicoe,” retorted his sister. “And if you continue to treat me so shabbily, I shall go straight to Mama and tell her what I know!”
    Maddy thought that Kenelm’s hands tightened on the reins, and wished that her cousins would stop squabbling long enough to allow her to enjoy her drive. Although Alathea had not inherited her mother’s fragile looks, she could lay definite claim to Letty’s sharp