Sylvester by Georgette Heyer Page B

something your papa said to her, though. Couldn’t help but do so. I thought it not right to say anything to you, but when I heard you had been sent for to the dressing-room I guessed what it must be. Your papa has received an offer for your hand.’
    ‘No!’ cried Susan. ‘Phoebe, has he indeed?’
    ‘Yes—at least, I think—Oh, I don’t know, but Mama seems to think he will ,if only I will conduct myself conformably !’
    ‘Oh, famous!’ Susan declared, clapping her hands. ‘Who is he? How could you be so sly as never to breathe a word about it? Did you meet him in London? Is he passionately in love with you?’
    ‘No!’ replied Phoebe baldly.
    This damping monosyllable checked Susan’s raptures. Miss Battery looked rather anxiously at Phoebe; and Mary said diffidently that she rather supposed that persons of quality did not fall in love.
    ‘That’s only what Mama says, and I know it isn’t true!’ said Susan scornfully. ‘ Is it, ma’am?’
    ‘Can’t say,’ responded Miss Battery briefly. ‘Nor can you. Shouldn’t be thinking of such things at your age.’
    ‘Pooh, I am nearly sixteen, and I can tell you I mean to get a husband as soon as I can! Phoebe, do stop being missish, and tell us who he is!’
    ‘I’m not being missish!’ said Phoebe indignantly. ‘I am in flat despair, and he is the Duke of Salford!’
    ‘W-what?’ gasped Susan. ‘Phoebe, you wretch, you’re hoaxing us! Only fancy you as a duchess!’
    Phoebe was not in the least offended by her burst of hearty laughter, but Mary said stoutly: ‘I think Phoebe would make a very nice duchess.’
    That made Phoebe laugh too, but Miss Battery nodded, and said: ‘So she would!’
    ‘How can you say so?’ expostulated Phoebe. ‘When I haven’t the smallest turn for fashion, and never know what to say to strangers, or—’
    ‘Is he fashionable?’ interrupted Susan eagerly.
    ‘Oh, excessively! That is, I don’t know, but I should think he would be. He is always very well dressed, and he goes to all the ton parties, and drives a splendid pair of dapple-greys in the Park. I shouldn’t wonder at it if he spent as much as a hundred pounds a year on soap in his stables.’
    ‘Well, that ought to make him acceptable to you!’ observed Susan. ‘But what is he like? Is he young? Handsome?’
    ‘I don’t know what his age may be. He is not old ,I suppose. As for handsome, people say he is, but I do not think so. In fact—’ She stopped suddenly, aware of Mary’s innocently inquiring gaze, and ended her description of Sylvester by saying only that she judged him to ride about twelve stone.
    Mary, who had a retentive memory, said hopefully: ‘Papa used to ride twelve stone when he was a young man. He said so once, and also that it is the best weight for hunting over strong country. Does the Duke hunt over strong country, Phoebe?’
    Susan broke in on this with pardonable impatience. ‘Who cares a fig for that? I wish you won’t be so provoking, Phoebe! Why don’t you want him to offer for you? Is he disagreeable? For my part, if he were rich and reasonably civil I shouldn’t care for anything else. Only fancy! You would have a house of your own, and as many new dresses as you wished, and very likely splendid jewels as well, besides being able to do just as you chose!’
    Miss Battery eyed her with disfavour. ‘If you can’t refrain from expressing yourself with what I can’t call anything but vulgarity, Susan, I must impose silence upon you. In any event, it is past the hour, and you should be practising that sonatina.’
    Having in this masterly fashion disposed of Susan, Miss Battery recommended Mary to occupy herself for half an hour with the sampler she was embroidering for her Mama’s birthday, and left the room, taking Phoebe with her. Firmly shutting the schoolroom door she said in a lowered voice:
    ‘Thought it best you should say no more to Susan. Good girl, but wants discretion. You’re all of a twitter: