then she will pass into another’s hands, and there will be no opportunity for her lax ways to be passed on to our daughters.”
“No, heaven forbid,” said Mrs. Partington, who hadn’t considered this alarming possibility. Secretly, she thought that Mr. Partington was making too much of it all, as Mrs. Croscombe had forcefully pointed out. Yet at the same time she felt that life at Rosings might go on more agreeably without her older daughter’s presence.
Mr. Partington was delighted by the opportunity to be rid of Cassandra—for once and for all, if his sister did her duty. And there was no reason why she should not. She had raised three daughters on the strictest principles, and sent three meek and dutiful young ladies off into the arms of highly respectable husbands. Well, she could do the same for the troublesome Miss Darcy. And he would no longer have to put up with that quizzical look she had, as though seeing straight through you, nor with all that haughty Darcy pride and her strong-willed ways.
“In some ways, she is very like my dear mama,” murmured his wife.
“Not at all,” said Mr. Partington. “Lady Catherine filled her high position with grace and a strong sense of duty. Cassandra is simply a spoilt young miss. You have indulged her too much, with all this painting and so forth, and now see what has come of it. I told you it would be so.”
Chapter Five
The journey to Bath was one of more than an hundred and fifty miles, a considerable distance, and not one to be covered in a single day. Cassandra and her cousin were to change horses at the Bell in Bromley, on the first part of their journey from Hunsford, and to spend the night with their cousin Lady Fanny Fitzwilliam, in her house in Aubrey Square in London.
From London, Cassandra might very well travel on the mail, her mother had said peevishly, but Mr. Partington pursed his lips. While always keen to save his pocket, he knew it would not do, a Miss Darcy, the granddaughter of a Lady Catherine, could not travel on the mail, even accompanied by a maid. Besides, what would his sister Mrs. Cathcart say when Cassandra arrived at the posting inn instead of driving up to her front door in Laura Place, as befitted her rank in life?
Their send-off was no very merry affair. There were pleasant enough farewells for Belle, but nothing more than a few moralising words from Mr. Partington and a sad look and mournful expression on her mother’s part for Cassandra, which her daughter knew had nothing to do with her missing her and everything to do with her supposedly shocking behaviour.
“I have sent an express to my sister giving her full details of this shameful affair,” Mr. Partington said repressively. “So she knowswhat has led us to send you to Bath, do not imagine that she will receive you in any spirit of holiday.”
Thank you, Cassandra said inwardly, as the groom let go the horses’ heads and the carriage moved forward, to bowl down the drive, through the great gates, and along the road by the parsonage. The parson was in his garden, sweeping off his broad-brimmed, black hat and bowing as the carriage went by, and further along, as they swept through the village, Cassandra saw Emily standing in front of Mrs. Humble’s shop, waving furiously as she went past. At least there was one smiling face to see her off.
Belle sat back against the squabs, looking thoroughly discontented. “It’s too bad that I have to be packed off to London, just because they think you’ve been misbehaving and might have been a bad influence on me. I don’t see the reason in that.”
“They feel you would find it dull, with no one of your own age to keep you company.”
“Much they know, how could it be dull with Henry there?” For a moment, Belle glowed. Then the dissatisfied look came back to her face. “Besides, I’m supposed to find it dull, I was only sent to Rosings because of the fuss everybody made about my marrying Ferdie.”
“Do you still
“No, heaven forbid,” said Mrs. Partington, who hadn’t considered this alarming possibility. Secretly, she thought that Mr. Partington was making too much of it all, as Mrs. Croscombe had forcefully pointed out. Yet at the same time she felt that life at Rosings might go on more agreeably without her older daughter’s presence.
Mr. Partington was delighted by the opportunity to be rid of Cassandra—for once and for all, if his sister did her duty. And there was no reason why she should not. She had raised three daughters on the strictest principles, and sent three meek and dutiful young ladies off into the arms of highly respectable husbands. Well, she could do the same for the troublesome Miss Darcy. And he would no longer have to put up with that quizzical look she had, as though seeing straight through you, nor with all that haughty Darcy pride and her strong-willed ways.
“In some ways, she is very like my dear mama,” murmured his wife.
“Not at all,” said Mr. Partington. “Lady Catherine filled her high position with grace and a strong sense of duty. Cassandra is simply a spoilt young miss. You have indulged her too much, with all this painting and so forth, and now see what has come of it. I told you it would be so.”
Chapter Five
The journey to Bath was one of more than an hundred and fifty miles, a considerable distance, and not one to be covered in a single day. Cassandra and her cousin were to change horses at the Bell in Bromley, on the first part of their journey from Hunsford, and to spend the night with their cousin Lady Fanny Fitzwilliam, in her house in Aubrey Square in London.
From London, Cassandra might very well travel on the mail, her mother had said peevishly, but Mr. Partington pursed his lips. While always keen to save his pocket, he knew it would not do, a Miss Darcy, the granddaughter of a Lady Catherine, could not travel on the mail, even accompanied by a maid. Besides, what would his sister Mrs. Cathcart say when Cassandra arrived at the posting inn instead of driving up to her front door in Laura Place, as befitted her rank in life?
Their send-off was no very merry affair. There were pleasant enough farewells for Belle, but nothing more than a few moralising words from Mr. Partington and a sad look and mournful expression on her mother’s part for Cassandra, which her daughter knew had nothing to do with her missing her and everything to do with her supposedly shocking behaviour.
“I have sent an express to my sister giving her full details of this shameful affair,” Mr. Partington said repressively. “So she knowswhat has led us to send you to Bath, do not imagine that she will receive you in any spirit of holiday.”
Thank you, Cassandra said inwardly, as the groom let go the horses’ heads and the carriage moved forward, to bowl down the drive, through the great gates, and along the road by the parsonage. The parson was in his garden, sweeping off his broad-brimmed, black hat and bowing as the carriage went by, and further along, as they swept through the village, Cassandra saw Emily standing in front of Mrs. Humble’s shop, waving furiously as she went past. At least there was one smiling face to see her off.
Belle sat back against the squabs, looking thoroughly discontented. “It’s too bad that I have to be packed off to London, just because they think you’ve been misbehaving and might have been a bad influence on me. I don’t see the reason in that.”
“They feel you would find it dull, with no one of your own age to keep you company.”
“Much they know, how could it be dull with Henry there?” For a moment, Belle glowed. Then the dissatisfied look came back to her face. “Besides, I’m supposed to find it dull, I was only sent to Rosings because of the fuss everybody made about my marrying Ferdie.”
“Do you still
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