outside confirmed her gloomy mood. A driving rain beat a tattoo against the window. The reluctant daylight barely lightened the shadowed corners of the room. She pulled a wry face as she swung her legs reluctantly out of the warm bed, then a thought caused the corners of her mouth to reverse direction and tilt up in amusement. She would confidently wager her next corn crop that the marquess was even less pleased with the weather than she was. The grin grew wider. No riding for him today! Well, she thought with a determined gleam in her blue-violet eyes, he could take a turn at being the little governess’ captive audience since he had arranged for her presence on this interminable journey. And to this end she began rummaging through her meager baggage, emerging triumphantly a moment later carrying the book her grandfather had pressed upon her at her departure.
Thus armed she appeared at breakfast, wearing her customary cool composure as a protective cloak to cover her unhappiness. Her trustee, however, fixed a penetrating stare upon her face and thought he detected shadows beneath her eyes causing them to appear darker than ever. Marianne would have been astonished to discover that beneath his polite urbanity he was shrewdly assessing her every action, and had conceived a very fair notion of the anxiety she was experiencing as a future rushed up to meet her that she could never have contemplated in her wildest imaginings.
He permitted a hint of a smile to lighten his expression as his eyes fell on the book she had placed beside her with a faintly defiant air. However he said nothing, preferring to allow her the discovery that reading in a carriage, no matter how well sprung, traveling at speed over indifferent roads was an impossible situation.
And indeed she soon realized that a pounding head and swimming eyes represented too high a price to pay for a bit of isolation, no matter how desperately she wished for solitude. The second day was even more interminable than the first, now that any sense of novelty had worn off. The rain continued unabated throughout the long day, but the marquess seemed to have hit upon the correct approach to reduce Miss Twistleton’s spate of anecdotal prattle to endurable, though admittedly tedious, proportions. He alternately teased and flattered her, pandering to her taste for tales of titled persons, describing visits to palatial estates that held the governess enthralled. When she succumbed to an anecdotal urge, he promptly capped her tale with one of his own. All of this was done in a perfectly straightforward manner, but from time to time Marianne, darting piercing glances at his serious countenance, surprised a dancing gleam in his eyes that gave birth to a potent suspicion on her part that his charming manner masked a strong and probably reprehensible sense of humor. At first she was inclined to be indignant for Miss Twistleton’s sake, but closer observation of that lady revealed that she was having the time of her life, revelling in the friendly attentions of a titled gentleman. Any hints that the titled gentleman in question was amusing himself at her expense would only serve to crush her sensibilities; so except for sending him a number of scathing looks which he blandly ignored, Marianne remained silent.
On this and the following day her contributions to the conversation represented no more than the bare minimum demanded by common civility. She had been thinking deeply about her changed circumstances, but could find only one aspect that promised an agreeable situation. The marquess had told her that a cousin had inherited her father’s title and entailed estate. On questioning the identity of this cousin she was agreeably surprised to discover that not only was this unknown relative the son of her father’s younger brother, but that he was only a couple of years older than Marianne herself. She was even more delighted to learn that she was also possessed of a female cousin.
Thus armed she appeared at breakfast, wearing her customary cool composure as a protective cloak to cover her unhappiness. Her trustee, however, fixed a penetrating stare upon her face and thought he detected shadows beneath her eyes causing them to appear darker than ever. Marianne would have been astonished to discover that beneath his polite urbanity he was shrewdly assessing her every action, and had conceived a very fair notion of the anxiety she was experiencing as a future rushed up to meet her that she could never have contemplated in her wildest imaginings.
He permitted a hint of a smile to lighten his expression as his eyes fell on the book she had placed beside her with a faintly defiant air. However he said nothing, preferring to allow her the discovery that reading in a carriage, no matter how well sprung, traveling at speed over indifferent roads was an impossible situation.
And indeed she soon realized that a pounding head and swimming eyes represented too high a price to pay for a bit of isolation, no matter how desperately she wished for solitude. The second day was even more interminable than the first, now that any sense of novelty had worn off. The rain continued unabated throughout the long day, but the marquess seemed to have hit upon the correct approach to reduce Miss Twistleton’s spate of anecdotal prattle to endurable, though admittedly tedious, proportions. He alternately teased and flattered her, pandering to her taste for tales of titled persons, describing visits to palatial estates that held the governess enthralled. When she succumbed to an anecdotal urge, he promptly capped her tale with one of his own. All of this was done in a perfectly straightforward manner, but from time to time Marianne, darting piercing glances at his serious countenance, surprised a dancing gleam in his eyes that gave birth to a potent suspicion on her part that his charming manner masked a strong and probably reprehensible sense of humor. At first she was inclined to be indignant for Miss Twistleton’s sake, but closer observation of that lady revealed that she was having the time of her life, revelling in the friendly attentions of a titled gentleman. Any hints that the titled gentleman in question was amusing himself at her expense would only serve to crush her sensibilities; so except for sending him a number of scathing looks which he blandly ignored, Marianne remained silent.
On this and the following day her contributions to the conversation represented no more than the bare minimum demanded by common civility. She had been thinking deeply about her changed circumstances, but could find only one aspect that promised an agreeable situation. The marquess had told her that a cousin had inherited her father’s title and entailed estate. On questioning the identity of this cousin she was agreeably surprised to discover that not only was this unknown relative the son of her father’s younger brother, but that he was only a couple of years older than Marianne herself. She was even more delighted to learn that she was also possessed of a female cousin.
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