Fragile Mask by Elizabeth Bailey Read Free Book Online Page A

satisfaction.
    ‘ What do you think of that, Miss Chaceley?’
    There could be no doubt what Verena thought of it. She had
never heard of anything more shabby. Disgust rose in her at the
thought of such arts being employed, so as to turn some poor girl’s
head into a whirl of confusion. Dear heaven, she ought to know how
dangerous a pastime was being played here! So he blew in turns hot
and cold upon his victim, did he? All to satisfy his own vanity, no
doubt. What a conceit. Little did he know how well aware was she of
the effects of such erratic conduct.
    Mrs Felpham was waiting for her answer, a look of
such comical anticipation in her face that Verena must have laughed
had she not been so disappointed. Disappointed? Well, she had as
well admit to it. It had been flattering to
be the recipient of such strong attentions. To hear now that it was
but a prelude to a practical campaign could only drop Mr Hawkeridge
in her estimation.
    ‘ I think,’ she said, ‘that any female who is taken in by
such blatant posturings must be a complete fool.’
    Damped, Mrs Felpham was silenced for a moment. But she
rallied. ‘Then I have only to say, Miss Chaceley, that London is
full of a great many fools.’
    Verena permitted herself a faint smile. ‘In that case I
must be happy that I have no place there, Mrs Felpham.’
    She left the widow dissatisfied, she thought, but herself
secure in the knowledge that her words would be carried through the
town as swiftly as possible, so that none would be able to suppose
her to be falling under the spell of Mr Hawkeridge. It would rather
be the gentleman himself they would watch, waiting to see his
failure with the female whom no one in the spa town had as yet
succeeded in touching.
    Hurrying home, Verena resolved she would remain aloof,
nevertheless. She might be disenchanted, but she already knew
herself to be vulnerable to him, and she had seen too much of
Mama’s sapped strength not to suspect her own.
    She was able to maintain her resolution for several days,
Mama offering her the best excuse possible by her current bout of
weakness. They did not attend Sunday service at the King Charles
Chapel, and Verena caught herself out wondering whether Mr
Hawkeridge had missed her, instead of she being compelled—according
to Mrs Felpham—to miss him.
    Furious at herself for even this slight show of interest in
the man, she spent Monday at her bureau in the parlour, handling
overdue accounts and some belated correspondence with the lawyer
who had charge of Grandpapa Whicham’s trust fund, to which she owed
her present independence.
    It was Mrs Peverill who undid her daughter’s best
laid plans not to appear in sight of the flirtatious
Mr Hawkeridge. Having spent Monday resting contentedly on the
day-bed, reading one of Miss Burney’s romances borrowed from the
circulating library, she greeted Verena as she came to breakfast on
Tuesday morning with what was, for her, a deal of
enthusiasm.
    ‘ Dearest, I am feeling much more myself today. I should so
much like it if we were to go down to the Rooms tonight. Do you not
feel we might enjoy keeping company for a change?’
    ***
    Denzell, happening to be deep in conversation with Sir John
Frinton, did not see Verena and her mother enter the room. But a
sudden break in the old man’s attention alerted him.
    ‘ Ah, there she is at last,’ uttered Sir John on a note of
satisfaction. ‘Would that I were forty years younger.’
    Turning to follow the direction of the old man’s gaze,
Denzell at once espied Verena, and his breath caught. If she had
been beautiful in a brown pelisse and a ribbon-trimmed bonnet, she
was ravishing in full dress.
    An open robe of white muslin with a low pleated bodice,
sleeved to the elbow with beaded trimming covering the long gloves
of York tan, was worn over a dull yellow petticoat. The shade
perfectly complimented the honeyed tresses, simply dressed with a
ribbon-bandeau threaded through so that one or two curling