An Unusual Courtship by Katherine Marlowe

not question it. “Yes. Of course.” He gazed down at the gravel path as his heart pounded against his ribs.
    “I hope we shall see more of you soon, Mr. Valentine.”
    Mr. Everett made him a bow, and departed.

4
    The Ball
    O ver the next week , the group went nowhere unless they were all four together. Every time a suggestion was made that the party should in some way split, it was rebutted. Percival found it entirely impossible to speak to Miss Bolton alone, even briefly. He decided to wait upon the letters he had sent to London with regards to the Boltons, for it would be embarrassing to propose the idea of courtship only to discover that Miss Bolton would be an inappropriate match for him.
    The group focused their energies on the preparations for the party on days of poor weather and tours of the Linston area when the weather was good, and the days passed quickly and pleasantly.
    Mr. Everett’s presence and gazes had become less distracting, and he was less likely to be found within reach of Percival or gazing upon Percival than he had been the first three days of their acquaintance. This felt like something of a loss, but Percival was glad to not be distracted by him and glad that he might focus on the more sensible possibility of courting Miss Bolton. A sort of heavy sorrow hung in his chest, and he worried betimes that he had given some offence to Mr. Everett, but did not let himself dwell upon the question.
    The replies from Lord Barham’s solicitor and Percival’s cousin arrived on the same day. Both of them revealed that the Boltons were considered perfectly respectable: of no particular birth or title, but comfortably well-off. Their parents remained in London and were well-regarded. The senior Mr. Bolton had his income from investments in merchant trade, and Mrs. Bolton was charming and decorous. It was cousin Agatha’s opinion that Miss Bolton ought to be glad to be courted by someone of such ancient and noble bloodline, even if Percival was most irredeemably countrified.
    A wet drizzle ruled out any possibility of excursion for the group, but once his morning correspondence was resolved, Percival set out to join his friends at the Grange.
    They received him in the drawing room, where Miss Bolton immediately engaged Percival in discussion of their party plans. Mr. Bolton appeared restless, sitting by the window and bouncing his leg with excess energy. Mr. Everett, for his part, seemed satisfied to read his book while in the company of his three friends. Only Miss Bolton seemed adequately pleased with the weather, which allowed her to finalise party plans with Percival.
    “I think I shall go for a ride,” Mr. Bolton announced, and sprang to his feet.
    “Horatio,” his sister scolded. “It is dismal out. You will catch your death of it.”
    “Pfaugh, it is merely damp. I shan’t be long.” Mr. Bolton would hear no discouragement, and took his leave of the group.
    Percival saw as Mr. Everett watched him go, and how Mr. Everett’s gaze flicked toward where Percival and Miss Bolton were engaged in discussion of room assignments for such guests as could be expected to stay the night. The glance did not last long, and Mr. Everett returned his attention to his book.
    Resolving himself that this was his chance, Percival began to consider how he might approach the matter.
    “Miss Bolton,” he said, colouring and then clearing his throat. “I thought—I thought perhaps I might…”
    “Yes, Mr. Valentine?” Hermione prompted, blinking at him with innocent bewilderment.
    Mr. Everett snapped his book shut.
    Percival twitched in surprise, and looked over as Mr. Everett got to his feet.
    “I think I shall order some refreshment from the kitchen,” he declared, casting his book down upon the couch where he had sat. “Miss Bolton, will you have tea or coffee?”
    “Tea, thank you,” Hermione said, looking between the two of them now. She looked as though she wished to say something further, but did