The Country Gentleman by Fiona Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

you?”
    “Yes,” said Maria resoundingly, delighted to have an opportunity at last of criticizing Ensley to his (she thought) too devoted admirer. “But I am surprised,” she went on cautiously, “that he did not come to call on you between that night and our departure.”
    Anne said nothing. She too had been surprised—bitterly so. Not until that very morning had she received a note from him saying he’d been suddenly obliged to go into Suffolk and pay a visit to Balwarth. Her return note (waiting for him in London; she would not write to him in care of his prospective father-in-law) had been as brightly elusive as she could make it. Finally she shrugged at Maria, smiled, and turned the subject. They went to bedwithout any further mention of Ensley passing between them.
    The truth was, Anne had been extremely displeased with her own response to the news of the marriage. It should not have shocked her as it did. She thought she had been much better prepared. She blamed herself harshly for what she termed, though only privately, her babyishness. Ensley’s conduct had been perfectly correct, entirely appropriate. She had been telling him he must marry for years, had not she? So he had arranged it. It would change nothing between them. He would continue himself, she (she hoped) herself. As for the tears she had shed before him, she would have lost her fortune three times over to have them back.
    When she opened her eyes in the morning, the sky was so black and dismal that Anne thought at first Lizzie had been confused and waked her in the night. But a moment’s observation told her this was not so: It was storming.
    “Raining straight through since yesterday, ma’am,” Lizzie informed her, with the satisfaction of those who bring bad news for which they cannot be held accountable. She was a tall, handsome woman a year or two younger than her mistress, with a wide, humorous mouth and clever hands. Except that Miss Anne tended to find a coiffure that suited her, then stick to it for months or even years (which deprived Lizzie of much opportunity to show what she could do), she could not have wished for a better employer. Miss Anne was a trifle high-handed at times, perhaps, but never otherwise than fair. And anyhow, it suited a lady to keep a bit high in the instep. It redounded to the credit of her servants; and indeed, many were thehouseholds where Miss Guilfoyle’s employees could count on being given precedence over those even of lords and ladies.
    “The roads are a perfect pig-bath, so we’re told,” she now went on, as she hunted in a portmanteau for Miss Anne’s silver peignoir. “Two coaches what ought to have come last night drug up to the inn an hour ago, and the coachmen say they’ve never seen worse weather. Shall we be leaving just as planned?” she then inquired, plumping a pillow for her mistress to lean back against. A bright flash of lightning followed almost instantly by a tremendous crash of thunder punctuated her question. Anne sat up.
    “Very witty,” she muttered at the heavens, then raised her voice and said more clearly to Lizzie, “Yes, I am afraid we must.”
    “What, in the rain?” was startled out of the poor girl, who had counted on a negative. The curricle, in which she was travelling, was a ridiculous conveyance for such heavy going, and must surely give trouble before the day was out. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Mrs. Dolphim and Minna and I—”
    “I am perfectly aware of your situation,” Anne was obliged to interrupt. The fact was they simply could not afford to stop another night at the Lion. She had budgeted out the dwindling £400 very strictly, and what remained in the purse for removal had already got perilously low. A healthy sum had gone with Dolphim, to cover his travelling expenses; the rest gave no margin for such a luxury as waiting for fine weather. “If it becomes necessary, Mrs. Insel and I shall change carriages with you.”
    “Oh, but