Keeping the Castle by Patrice Kindl Read Free Book Online

Mrs. Fredericks had been obliged to go and see to some arrangements in the kitchen—and she demanded an account of my time.
    “I saw you standing up with the Marquis. It was an honor that he secured you as a partner so quickly,” she said, “tho’ of course that is no great cause for amazement, you being by far the prettiest girl here.” Having heard my demurral and my favorable opinion of the Marquis, she then enquired about my other partners.
    “Why, then it was Major Dunthorpe, and after that his friend Major Simpson, then Lord Boring, and then both the Hadleigh twins—one after another, of course—and then a Mr. Pultney, and after that—”
    “You shall tell me about each of them by and by, but I am anxious to know if you have danced with Mrs. Fredericks’s son. He is here, she tells me, and is excessively handsome, agreeable, and clever and just the sort of young man you would like.”
    “No, I don’t believe we have met.” The only man with whom I had danced who struck me as excessively handsome, agreeable, and clever was Lord Boring, and my eyes wandered for a moment, seeking him in the crowded room. Recollecting myself, I returned my attention to my mother and continued, “Certainly none of my partners so far has been named Fredericks.”
    “I am sorry to hear it. She was so sure you would like him.”
    I smiled. Mrs. Fredericks had seemed like a sensible woman, but she could not help being prejudiced here, and she did not know me at all. And whether I liked her son or no, my business was matrimony, and that to a man of means. The son of a shop assistant did not seem like a good prospect, however agreeable he might be.
    On the other hand, in my judgment I had toiled long enough in the marriage market for one evening. I was quite willing to be entertained by a handsome face, a ready wit, and a pleasing manner. Seeing Mrs. Fredericks approaching with a young man by her side, I prepared to be as pleasing, in turn, as I could.
    I curtsied and raised a smiling face to gaze upon a countenance so peevish and ill-tempered that my welcoming smile faltered and I stepped backwards a pace in consternation.
    He was an amazingly unattractive man. Or perhaps, I decided upon brief reflection, he was not really so, when judged by his face and figure alone. These were quite good, tho’ his complexion was sallow and unhealthy looking. No, it was the black scowl he bestowed on my mother and me that ruined his looks and rendered him repellent. Furthermore, he was not attired in evening dress, but rather wore a patterned waistcoat, a wrinkled neckcloth, and an old blue tailcoat liberally spattered with ink, as though he were in the habit of wiping a pen on it. The only acceptable item in this disgraceful costume was a handsome pair of Hessian boots.
    I have never seen a true fop or dandy—they are London-bred birds, I fancy—and I do not think I would admire one if I did. I would not care for a man who thought more of his own beauty than of mine. But to appear in a ballroom dressed as a shabby little clerk!
    As I was studying this displeasing specimen, his mother addressed him in affectionate tones, giving further proof to the adage that a mother’s love is blind. “My dear,” she said, “Mrs. Winthrop and her daughters live in that most remarkable structure, Crawley Castle. You know we have spoken of it often.”
    “Oh, yes—perfect gargoyle of a building. Foolish place to put it, out on a cliff like that,” was his amiable response. “I shouldn’t be surprised if the place didn’t break off and fall into the sea someday.”
    I felt my cheeks grow hot with outrage.
    “I am delighted to meet you both,” he went on, looking anything but. “However, I must bid you good-bye on the heels of bidding you hello, Mrs. Winthrop, and Miss uh . . . hrmm,” he glanced in my direction. “So sorry, Mother, but I told you I could not stay. Do forgive me.” He bowed and made as if to leave, then turned back to say,