Jennie About to Be by Elisabeth Ogilvie Read Free Book Online Page B

help it; at least such a hint never came into his conversation; how often did it get into anyone’s conversation around here, with Aunt Higham forever warning her not to sound like a bluestocking? But this practical kindness and concern, especially after the winter tragedy of Tamsin, were an affirmation that depths existed and that there were more to be discovered and explored, if she should be lucky enough to have the chance. She doubted it.
    â€œOh, Captain Gilchrist!” The elderly parlormaid demonstrated the usual feminine reaction to Nigel’s appearance.
    â€œGood morning, Gertrude, my love. Is my mother at home?”
    She took his hat and gloves as if receiving the crown jewels. “Lady Geoffrey is reading in the library, sir.”
    That sounded encouraging, but Jennie reminded herself that the Mater might merely be reading the Stud Book. She was not reading at all when they entered the library but was standing before the fireplace, awaiting them. She was a tall, stout woman, tightly stayed, wearing a dark blue gown with a high frill at her strong throat and a lace cap over her still-bright hair.
    Nigel got his golden fleece, his blue eyes, and his fine color from her. She stood erect and didn’t lean perceptibly on her ivory-headed stick. She must have been as magnificent on her big hunter as Nigel was on Victor.
    â€œWell, Nigel,” she said resonantly.
    â€œI’ve brought her to meet you, Mama. Miss Eugenia Hawthorne.’ Jennie was propelled gently forward and for a blinding moment suffered a brief return of the prizeheifer illusion. Lady Geoffrey held out her hand.
    â€œI’m so happy to meet you, child. How cold your fingers are! Come and sit by the fire. Nigel, ring for Gertrude.”
    â€œNo need, she’s hovering so as not to miss a word. Aren’t you, Gertrude?” he called. There was an agitated rustling from the foyer.
    â€œMadeira and chocolate, Gertrude,” said his mother with equanimity. “This lass needs to be warmed up.” There was a trace of Scots here, just enough to leaven the southern accent which had always sounded so affected to Jennie.
    â€œI’m not cold, really,” she protested. “It’s mild out, but—”
    â€œShe’s terrified of you, Mama,” said Nigel. He led Jennie to a tapestried fauteuil and put her in it. His mother lowered herself into the opposite one.
    â€œI don’t see why she should be. I’m not terrified of her , and I must admit entre nous , child, I have been terrified by some of my son’s presentations.” Laughter boomed up from that impressive bosom. “My dear, it’s not an inspection. You’re not being trotted back and forth like a filly to show me your gait and conformation.”
    â€œI felt more like a heifer,” said Jennie, which set Lady Geoffrey off again, and she struck her cane on the floor.
    â€œYou’re not so demure as I thought. Spirit, Nigel! She has spirit, I can see it in the set of her jaw and the light in her eye, and she’ll need it! What do they call you, child? Not Eugenia, I hope.”
    â€œJennie.” She could hardly credit this conversation. It was an inspection, no matter what they said, and she didn’t know whether she was overjoyed or humiliated or would end up as she’d expected, the victim of someone else’s entertainment.
    The scene was overlooked from above the mantel by the portrait of a man in a peer’s robes. He was aloof without being offensively superior about it.
    â€œTake off that ridiculous chapeau so I can see your hair,” said Lady Geoffrey.
    Jennie stared back, tempted to disobey, but Nigel, who stood between them with his back to the fire, suddenly chuckled, and the whole scene turned comic. She removed the white beaver hat, looked at it with distaste, and Nigel took it from her.
    â€œAh, that’s better!” said his mother. “What a lovely bay color. Does