The Rules of Gentility Read online

  “Yes. Yes, I—”

  “Capital!”

  He drags me from the closet and positions us in the hallway opposite the open door of the drawing-room, where even now, Mama, in full verbal flood, clasps Elverton’s hands.

  And Mr. Linsley kisses me.

  I have been a fool. The Kiss was a tiny pale imitation of what he does now.

  This is a real kiss, thrumming through me, humming in my belly, and on my back where his hand presses me to him as though we endeavor to keep a sheet of delicate paper between ourselves. His mouth closes over mine, and his tongue, dear Lord, his tongue is supple and wet, uncurling against mine. Right inside my mouth! His lips nibble and slide and press as his tongue partners mine in a far more wicked dance than any waltz. My legs quiver against his.

  I can’t breathe. I shall swoon. No, I will not. This is too wonderful to waste on a show of maidenly modesty and I must not miss a second. Oh, the feel of his hair under my hand, and his body, all hard and sinewy and so alive against mine, all that implied strength as though at any moment he might sweep me into his arms and carry me off to—

  “Inigo!”

  “Philomena!”

  The cries of our respective mamas, and Sirius nosing between us in the vicinity of Mr. Linsley’s breeches, interrupt us.

  “Damn you, Linsley, Miss Wellesley-Clegg is engaged to me!” Everton pushes towards us, his face red and furious.

  “I am not, sir. You have not asked me.” My voice is quite breathless, as though I have run up the stairs, and my face feels wet around my mouth and hot elsewhere.

  “And neither has this scoundrel, I’ll be bound.” Elverton clenches a fist.

  “Oh, yes, he did. And I have accepted.”

  Mr. Linsley clasps his hand in mine and shoves Sirius away with one foot. “Passion overtook us in the water-closet, where Miss Wellesley-Clegg agreed to make me the happiest of men, Elverton.”

  The Dowager Countess falls onto the sofa, her heels drumming on the floor, and offers a series of short screams like a screech owl in voice.

  “Out for the count, by God,” Mr. Linsley murmurs, rather unkindly, I think.

  Mama, shocked into silence for maybe ten seconds, bursts her banks. “Why Philly what would your papa say oh he is here oh my dear what shall we do with this girl pray someone fetch my vinaigrette and tea no we must have brandy it is a dreadful shock to me too but fortunately I can bear it for I am made of sterner stuff but oh Philly he is all covered in blue paint and only a younger son and a rake and a wastrel from all I hear and has no fortune to speak of oh my dear Mr. Wellesley-Clegg we are undone that our daughter should marry such a man what are we to do and to think she turned down Elverton after encouraging him so shockingly why everyone talked of it where is the brandy and now I shall not be able to hold up my head in society—”

  “That’s enough, Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg.” Papa has spoken.

  The ensuing silence is broken by the sound of Sirius’s rhythmic lapping in the water-closet.

  Mama sinks onto the sofa next to the Dowager Countess and raises a handkerchief to her face.

  Servants arrive with fresh tea and brandy, and Hen appears with a vinaigrette. It is quite the most exciting thing to have happened in our house in weeks, and poor Diana will be sad to have missed it. My hand is still in Mr. Linsley’s, and he gives me a hint of one of his wicked, sideways smiles, where his lips turn up just a little, and my legs quiver.

  Hen stops by me on her way out. “You’ve made a right upset, miss, for all he’s a handsome gentleman.”

  Mr. Linsley winks at her, and she departs upstairs, a ditty about saints casting down their crowns into a glassy sea in her wake. I wonder why they should do such a thing unless they plan to dive in after them for entertainment, and I must say it seems a strange way to spend eternity.

  “Come on in, Philly, Mr. Linsley. We’d best talk,” Papa says, hands beneath his coattails.

  “Indeed, sir, we should, for I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” Elverton glares at me. “The lady gave me every encouragement, sir. Why, her own mother says as much. She is nothing but a shameless flirt.”

  “I am not!”

  “You should leave, sir.” Mr. Linsley does not change his posture, but his voice is very, very cool, and Elverton steps back from him.

  “Don’t forget Sirius,” I offer helpfully.

  We advance into the drawing-room, Elverton leaves, and we hear the front door close after him.

  A dust sheet has been thrown over the smaller sofa, and Papa indicates I should sit there. Mr. Linsley gives my hand a final squeeze and releases me. How handsome he looks even when splattered in blue paint from head to toe!

  “Well, now, Mr. Linsley,” my papa says, “what do you know of subsidence?”

  Chapter 8

  Mr. Inigo Linsley

  “Very little, sir. Subsidence was not a subject much in demand at Winchester. But I do know a great deal about field drains.”

  “Field drains, eh? Good, good.”

  Dear heavens, this family confounds me. First, this dry stick of a papa, a short, mild man who peers at me over his spectacles with an unnerving shrewdness. He reminds me of my tailor and bootmaker, masters at hinting that I am in their debt while leading me on to commit greater foolishness. He does not seem even particularly concerned—at least, not at this moment—that I have been caught red-handed dishonoring his daughter, and am responsible for the violation and destruction of his piece of statuary.

  Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg has missed a calling as an otter, for never have I met a person who lasts so long without drawing breath. Yet she has a particular streak of common sense under her babbling exterior, and I suspect it would be unwise to underestimate her.

  As for the adorable Philomena, she is the most mysterious of all, and I cannot define what it is about her that intrigues me so. She is quite short—and as I am not the tallest of men, this is an advantage—and she fits in my arms perfectly. She takes to kissing like a duck to water (to be sure, this is an aquatic family) and I find myself staring at her pretty mouth, a perfect Cupid’s bow, now reddened and puffy from my rapaciousness. As for the rest, her eyes are rather round, but it suits her, her nose slightly snub with an unfashionable scattering of freckles, and there is a charming hollow with a blue vein above her collarbone that I long to kiss.

  Her papa clears his throat in a significant sort of way to gain my wandering attention. “This is an odd sort of courtship, Mr. Linsley. Why, when I wooed Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg, or, as she was then, Miss Maria Cutting—”

  “Maria? Maria Cutting?” My mother jolts upright on the sofa. “Not Maria Cutting who was at Miss Grimsley’s Academy for Gentlewomen?”

  “No it cannot be why I declare it is so Betsy Wormworth of all people oh my dear you know I have always thought you looked familiar and could not fathom why it has been an age and to think we should meet again…” The tradesman’s wife and the Dowager Countess fall into each other’s arms. I am even more dumbfounded that my mama actually allowed anyone to address her as Betsy.

  Mr. Wellesley-Clegg pours me a glass of brandy, refills his own, and passes the decanter to the two reunited schoolgirls, who now sob on each other’s shoulders.

  “Aye, well, you see Mr. Linsley,” he continues. “I need to make sure you’re a fit husband for my little Philly. I don’t put a great deal of stock in titles and families and such. You’d best tell me why I should give her away to you. I’m not a great believer in fits of passion either. They don’t last, you see.”

  “Papa!” his daughter cries.

  “Philly, my dear, this is between us at the moment. If I’m not satisfied, Mr. Linsley can leave this house a free man, and no harm done. I’d high hopes for Elverton, you know, a fine, upstanding gentleman.”

  Miss Wellesley-Clegg takes a quick swig from the brandy decanter.

  “Well, sir, I stand to inherit Weaselcopse Manor in Buckinghamshire. I’m land agent for that property and some other famil
y holdings when I’m not in town.”

  “Aye. It’s not your income that worries me, Mr. Linsley, but your character. She has five thousand.”

  Five thousand?

  “A year.”

  I almost drop my brandy glass. I’d suspected she was an heiress of some renown, but the amount had never been bandied about amongst the bachelors of the ton.

  All this takes place against a babble of tearful girlhood reminiscences, as my mother gives Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg a run for her money.

  “And what do you do in town, Mr. Linsley?”

  Oh, good Lord. “I’m engaged in some philanthropic activities, Mr. Wellesley-Clegg. I am a great supporter of—” dear God, I only just remember to give its full name—“the Association for the Rescue and Succor of those in Extremis. My sister-in-law, Lady Terrant, is its president, and Miss Wellesley-Clegg the secretary.”

  She beams at me.

  “Excellent,” her papa says, a trifle dryly.

  “And I do, of course, belong to White’s, and attend the theater and so on. My life is not totally without amusement.”

  I think he believes me for one wonderful moment.

  “Aye, Mr. Linsley. It is a pity you could not continue in your army career.”

  Oh, sod. “Indeed, yes.”

  “You were wounded and resigned your commission with full honors, I believe.”

  “Something of the sort.”

  He gives me a long, thoughtful stare.

  I am compelled to add, “It is in fact the complete opposite, sir.”

  His shoulders shake and a strange wheezing sound comes from him.

  At first I am alarmed, fearing he suffers from some sort of fit, before I realize he is laughing. Thank God.

  “I’m most dreadfully sorry about the statue, sir. I shall of course replace it.”

  “Oh, aye. The statue. To tell the truth, Linsley, I never cared that much for it.” He looks at the couch where the mamas, hands clasped, chatter away. The decanter is now empty. “Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg chose it for me. I’d rather hoped for something more classical, you know…” He makes a vague, chest-level cupping gesture.

  “Indeed, you may rely on my taste and discretion, sir. I believe I can find something to complement the most elegant architecture of your home.”

  We shake hands.

  “There is one more thing, Mr. Wellesley-Clegg. Your daughter is young and has charming high spirits. I should not like the announcement of our engagement to restrict her enjoyment of the season, which has hardly yet begun. I am not a jealous man, sir. I do not expect her to hang on my arm while London’s amusements pass her by. If you are willing, let us keep this within our respective families for the moment and call the banns at season’s end. With the reunion of Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg and the Dowager Countess, our families will have plenty of opportunity to meet.”

  “That’s most generous of you, Linsley. I’d like my little girl to enjoy herself while she can.” He heaves a sentimental sigh. “It’s most thoughtful of you to let me keep her to myself for a few months more.”

  I have a sneaking suspicion that we are now humbugging each other mightily, but grip his hand in a manly, honest fashion.

  The drawing-room door opens again to reveal a sight that makes me blink. For a time, after my precipitous descent from the colonel’s balcony, I saw double, and this is what I see now. Two girls a few years younger than Philomena, with ink-stained fingers and unnerving stares, stand in the doorway. It is only when one stands on one leg like a stork and the other scratches her head that I realize I am seeing two separate people.

  “And these are my youngest,” cries Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg. “Come here my dears and make your curtsies to the Dowager Countess of Terrant are they not sweet girls Lydia has the blue ribbon and Charlotte the green it is how we tell them apart—”

  “I beg your pardon, Mama,” my Philomena says. “They have changed ribbons again.”

  “Oh, indeed yes it is Lydia in green and Charlotte with the blue they are the clever ones in the family of course and I always say that Diana is the beauty now my dears will you not tell us what you have learned in the schoolroom today—”

  “You should be grateful, madam, that Philomena has both beauty and wit in abundance.” Where the devil did that come from? I sound like my brother. I don’t even know that it’s true.

  Philomena smiles at me, a lovely smile like the sun rising, and I take a sip of brandy, somehow miss my mouth, and flood my neckcloth.

  “And my dears you will never guess but Philly is engaged to this gentleman Mr. Linsley the Dowager Countess is his mama and you shall both be bridesmaids is that not splendid and we shall have such a fine time at the mantua makers oh I am quite overcome—”

  In the tiny pause that ensues as she places one hand on her bosom in maternal pride, Mr. Wellesley-Clegg announces the announcement is to be deferred until the end of the season. Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg does not seem overly put out by the news.

  The twins turn their unnerving double stare onto me.

  “Why does Mr. Linsley have blue paint all over him?” says Lydia or possibly Charlotte. “And what happened to Hebe?”

  The other one says, “We learned today of the Amazons. Did you know, so they could pull their bows better, they only had one—”

  “Such clever girls,” trills their mother. “And now you must play the pianoforte for us they have been practicing a duet together for these past few weeks and although I am only a proud mama and will say so many have commented on their accomplishments and excellent musical taste for ones so young for they are only fifteen and not yet out in society but so tall I hope they will not become too tall perhaps my dears you may wash the ink from your fingers before you play…”

  My mama, who has apparently learned to tame Mrs. Wellesley-Clegg’s conversational habits, heaves to her feet. “My dearest sweet Maria, I cannot express my happiness at seeing you again. Come to the play with us tonight, we can be cosy in our box, and talk if the acting does not distract us too much. Oh, my dear, do you remember when the dancing-master’s wig fell off, and you said to me it looked like a dead squirrel, and I laughed so hard I—”

  Good God, now my mother talks like her too, although breathing more frequently. They both double up, howling with laughter, and I realize the ladies are quite foxed.

  “We’d best go home now, madam.” I take her arm, but she shakes me off and embraces her newfound bosom friend.

  Wellesley-Clegg claps a hand on my shoulder. “And when do you inherit your property, Linsley?”

  “I shall take possession very shortly, when my brother the earl learns of the engagement.”

  Her parents and my mother leave the room, leaving Philomena and me together. The twins, their identical heads bent over the pianoforte and some music, the other occupants of the room at that moment, ignore us.

  “So you did it for the land,” Philomena says.

  Apparently she is deeply offended, despite the fact that I was noble enough to make the offer purely for her benefit. Why the devil does it matter? I really don’t understand women. “Yes, I did. Damn it, I’m five-and-twenty, I’m tired of hanging on my brother’s coattails.”

  “Perhaps that’s all you’re good for.”

  That stings me.

  “I’m dreadfully sorry I can’t take credit for an act of pure altruism, Miss Wellesley-Clegg.”

  “I too, Mr. Linsley.” She brushes past me and runs up the stairs, leaving me feeling foolish and dishonorable and, to my great surprise, quite unhappy.

  Miss Philomena Wellesley-Clegg

  It is a dreadful thing to burst into tears twice in one day and over two different gentlemen, although not for the same reasons, of course. And now, in my bedchamber, where I have taken refuge with Mama and Hen, I weep without restraint.

  I thought he liked me. That is the awful and embarrassing thing about it. I thought he…well, I did not think anyone could kiss a person in that way without liking her.

  I d
on’t mind about the land itself. It is perfectly natural for a gentleman to have his own establishment, so I understand, and indeed often I too wish to escape from my dear family, although I should miss Papa. I wish Mr. Linsley had told me, even though we had so little time in which to make our plan, which now I see is as full of holes as an old bucket. I fear Mama and Papa will be mightily hurt if ever they find out how I have deceived them.

  And he was so kind, but then he became chilly and unpleasant and looked down his aristocratic nose at me and drawled. I’m used to that sort of look and drawl, when people find out we are not related to those Wellesleys, and they hear Mama and Papa talk, and learn about the coal mine.

  That, I think, is why Papa has not bandied it about that I am worth a considerable fortune, and I understand the wisdom of it now. Even Mr. Linsley looked astonished when Papa mentioned it.

  And I was unkind to him, telling him he was worthless, something I now bitterly regret.

  I must break the engagement and take my chances with Elverton.

  “Now, miss, don’t take on so.” Hen pats my arm.

  “It is quite natural for her to cry upon becoming engaged why I did not stop crying for three days after Mr. Wellesley-Clegg made me an offer and then for the next two days after I accepted and he took me for a walk in the orchard and all was well Philly you will spoil your looks for tonight and Mr. Linsley will be put out goodness there she goes again…” Mama stops. “Dear me, what was I about to say?”

  Hen and I stare at her in astonishment.

  “I…Tired.” Mama falls onto my bed and almost immediately lets loose a snore.

  “It’s been too much for her, poor lady,” Hen says.

  I think the brandy decanter was too much for her.

  Hen removes Mama’s shoes. “You’ll be wanting your own maid now you’re engaged.”

  “Oh, no, Hen, I do not want to lose you!” I wail.

  “Now, miss, you’re used to having your old Hen around, but I’m your mama’s maid, and you’ll be going out more now you’re out in society and engaged. I have a lot of work to do to get Miss Lydia and Miss Charlotte ready, for they’ll be next and sooner than we thought, maybe even this season. Besides, you’ll be part of a grand family and need someone who knows about fashion and so on, for I’m just a country girl.”