Serial Monogamy by Kate Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

told her Fanny and Maria were off shopping but supposed she hadn’t actually asked him.
    “Well, no harm done,” said Mrs. Ternan, reclaiming her composure. “Mr. and Mrs. Eliot have agreed to accompany us.”
    “Have they? How kind of them,” Mr. Dickens replied.
    “Very kind. Mr. Eliot knows the environs well and has suggested the best route to be taken to reach Conisbrough Castle.”
    “He will prove invaluable then. What a good thing that I have rented two carriages.”
    —
    After some discussion, it was agreed that Mrs. Eliot would join Mr. Dickens, Nelly and Maria in one barouche while Mrs. Ternan and Fanny would sit with Mr. Eliot in the other. Nelly felt badly for Fanny that she was not to share the honour of the famous writer’s company at such close quarters as her younger sisters, but she supposed her mother, who had been sent into a flurry of calculations and preparations by the suggestion of a drive into the country, was right and that it would nothave been proper for the three girls to ride unaccompanied with Mr. Dickens. It was an impression confirmed when Mr. Eliot winked broadly at Mr. Dickens as he helped his wife up, saying, “You’re a lucky devil, Dickens.” At first, she thought he was jokingly boasting about the company of his own wife whose arm he was holding as he said these words, but then, to her shame, Nelly saw him nod knowingly in her own direction.
    It was not that such a disagreeable remark shocked her; the theatres were filled with gentlemen who presumed and her mother was filled with useful advice about how best to deflect their little remarks or their unwelcome glances, but it did surprise her in Mr. Eliot, who had seemed so deferential to Mr. Dickens the previous evening. Now he all but elbowed him in the ribs as though the two men were old friends out on the town. Mrs. Eliot laughed raucously. Nelly blushed for them both, but as their carriage moved forward, Mr. Dickens talked so amiably about the Yorkshire countryside and so knowledgeably about the history of the ruined castle they were about to visit that the awkward moment quickly passed.
    —
    Two hours later, she found herself edging her way up the narrow spiral staircase of the castle’s keep, glad she had worn stout shoes for the outing. Sir Walter Scott had set some of the action of
Ivanhoe
at Conisbrough andMr. Dickens was delighted by the literary connection. After they had picnicked on the grounds beneath the castle with its huge cylindrical keep looming over them, Mr. Dickens had led the party up the earthworks that would have once formed the castle’s moat and into the ruins proper, recreating for them as they walked the miraculous appearance of Aethelstane of “Coningsburgh” at his own funeral. Mr. Dickens fairly pranced about from crumbling wall to ruined tower, calling on them to imagine what the place must have looked like in the twelfth century, its mighty portcullis opening to receive the funeral procession of solemn knights and weeping ladies who believed the heir to the Saxon throne had died in battle.
    However, once they arrived at the entrance to the keep and looked inside, their eyes adjusting to an interior lit only by the occasional shaft of sunlight coming through narrow slits in its walls, the party was divided.
    “I am not going up that,” Mrs. Eliot declared frankly as she peered disapprovingly at the steep staircase of worn steps and missing stones.
    “Looks unsafe,” agreed her husband.
    “But just imagine the view if you did manage it,” Mr. Dickens encouraged.
    In the end, Mrs. Ternan reluctantly agreed that she and the Eliots would stay below while Mr. Dickens accompanied Nelly and her sisters, who were all eager to try the stairs. So, they departed with a reassuring promise they would turn back if it became dangerous.
    They climbed a piece, what felt like a storey if not two, but it was hard to tell on the narrow spiral and the going was slow. They picked their way gingerly up each