sir.’ We resume walking. ‘Both of them. If you flirt too much with Fanny, you’ll have Darrowby to reckon with as well, although I’m inclined to think a little competition would do no harm. The two of them have put up obstacles in each other’s path for almost six years, and Philomena and I are finding it tedious, as fond as we are of both of them. Good God, Otterwell should take better care of his hedges – they are like forests. I suppose in the north you have more dry-stone walls than hedges?’
I wonder at the sudden change of topic, but it is explained by the appearance of Mrs Linsley, who has left the other two women to join her husband.
‘You’re gossiping about us all,’ she says with great affection, taking Linsley’s arm. ‘Gentlemen are such gossips, aren’t they, Mr Congrevance?’
‘Guilty as charged, madam.’
‘And what have you been saying about me?’
‘That you are a paragon of womanhood,’ I say.
‘Oh fie, you are a dreadful flirt, just as Fanny said. What is it, James?’
The small, persistent presence tugs at Mrs Linsley’s skirts. ‘Carry me, Mama.’
He’s a solid child, and she is such a small thing. I grab him by the skirts and swing him on to my shoulders, where he tugs my hair and squeals with pleasure. The Linsleys look upon me with great approval. Well, I have never objected to small children (other than six-year-olds who snatch pretty women from under my nose).
‘I suppose you intend to seek a wife now you have come back to England,’ Mrs Linsley says with the enthusiasm of a married person seeking to enrol all in that happy state.
‘Possibly. To tell the truth, Mrs Linsley, I haven’t given the matter much thought.’ Since I have usually sought other men’s wives, this is only too true.
‘Oh, sir. You should. Look how happy little James is with you.’ She laughs and lays one hand on my sleeve. ‘Nay, I will not tell you of the virtues of my sisters, for one is married and the other two fend very well indeed for themselves in society. I daresay we will find you someone at the ball after the play, unless you—’
‘Now, Philomena, leave the man alone. Don’t interfere,’ Linsley says.
‘Or perhaps even tomorrow,’ she continues. ‘Some of Otterwell’s neighbours are to dine with us, and doubtless there will be some eligible ladies.’
I mumble something non-committal, with little James’s feet kicking against my chest, and resolve to stop acting like a fool with Caroline. She is, after all, only a woman of little breeding, attractive fortune and passable looks, and her hoydenish streak and idiosyncratic fondness for small boys are of no consequence. It is her fortune I must bear in mind. I shall not need to associate with her for long, once I have what I need. My campaign begins in earnest tonight.
Thus it is that I make a point that evening of ignoring Caroline altogether, but flirt with Mrs Gibbons while Darrowby glowers. Bearing in mind Linsley’s theory, I assume it can only benefit the couple, as well as my own interests.
My campaign with, or rather against, Caroline continues in the drawing room, but I find it harder than I imagined not to watch her, her face animated and beautiful as she slaps cards on the table and rails at Otterwell for his bad play. Or as she performs some piece on the pianoforte, quite badly, to tell the truth. After producing a fistful of wrong notes, she stops, announces that she will not take the repeat as it bores her and surely will bore us all, and bangs out some concluding chords. For some reason her lack of accomplishment, and her honesty about it, is quite charming. I find myself looking forward to the rehearsal of our play the next day with great eagerness.
Lady Caroline Elmhurst
Another rude awakening at the crack of dawn – how I shall survive these next few days I do not know – another hastily grabbed breakfast, and so we gather at Otterwell’s theatre for our first proper rehearsal. I do,
I wonder at the sudden change of topic, but it is explained by the appearance of Mrs Linsley, who has left the other two women to join her husband.
‘You’re gossiping about us all,’ she says with great affection, taking Linsley’s arm. ‘Gentlemen are such gossips, aren’t they, Mr Congrevance?’
‘Guilty as charged, madam.’
‘And what have you been saying about me?’
‘That you are a paragon of womanhood,’ I say.
‘Oh fie, you are a dreadful flirt, just as Fanny said. What is it, James?’
The small, persistent presence tugs at Mrs Linsley’s skirts. ‘Carry me, Mama.’
He’s a solid child, and she is such a small thing. I grab him by the skirts and swing him on to my shoulders, where he tugs my hair and squeals with pleasure. The Linsleys look upon me with great approval. Well, I have never objected to small children (other than six-year-olds who snatch pretty women from under my nose).
‘I suppose you intend to seek a wife now you have come back to England,’ Mrs Linsley says with the enthusiasm of a married person seeking to enrol all in that happy state.
‘Possibly. To tell the truth, Mrs Linsley, I haven’t given the matter much thought.’ Since I have usually sought other men’s wives, this is only too true.
‘Oh, sir. You should. Look how happy little James is with you.’ She laughs and lays one hand on my sleeve. ‘Nay, I will not tell you of the virtues of my sisters, for one is married and the other two fend very well indeed for themselves in society. I daresay we will find you someone at the ball after the play, unless you—’
‘Now, Philomena, leave the man alone. Don’t interfere,’ Linsley says.
‘Or perhaps even tomorrow,’ she continues. ‘Some of Otterwell’s neighbours are to dine with us, and doubtless there will be some eligible ladies.’
I mumble something non-committal, with little James’s feet kicking against my chest, and resolve to stop acting like a fool with Caroline. She is, after all, only a woman of little breeding, attractive fortune and passable looks, and her hoydenish streak and idiosyncratic fondness for small boys are of no consequence. It is her fortune I must bear in mind. I shall not need to associate with her for long, once I have what I need. My campaign begins in earnest tonight.
Thus it is that I make a point that evening of ignoring Caroline altogether, but flirt with Mrs Gibbons while Darrowby glowers. Bearing in mind Linsley’s theory, I assume it can only benefit the couple, as well as my own interests.
My campaign with, or rather against, Caroline continues in the drawing room, but I find it harder than I imagined not to watch her, her face animated and beautiful as she slaps cards on the table and rails at Otterwell for his bad play. Or as she performs some piece on the pianoforte, quite badly, to tell the truth. After producing a fistful of wrong notes, she stops, announces that she will not take the repeat as it bores her and surely will bore us all, and bangs out some concluding chords. For some reason her lack of accomplishment, and her honesty about it, is quite charming. I find myself looking forward to the rehearsal of our play the next day with great eagerness.
Lady Caroline Elmhurst
Another rude awakening at the crack of dawn – how I shall survive these next few days I do not know – another hastily grabbed breakfast, and so we gather at Otterwell’s theatre for our first proper rehearsal. I do,
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