very civil, Papa even more so, but Charlotte was as uncompromising as usual.
“Your sister Charlotte has little liking for me, I think,” Ashworth observed as soon as they were alone. “It’s a pity. She’s a handsome creature.”
Emily knew she had nothing to fear from Charlotte, but it might be wise not to be too readily available to Ashworth. It was more than possible he hankered more for the chase than for the prize.
“Indeed she is,” she agreed. “And you are not the only one to have noticed it.”
“I should hardly think so.” Then he looked at her with a smile. “Or were you being particular? Tell me, if you know a nice piece of gossip?”
“Only that our police inspector seems much taken with her, to Charlotte’s fury!”
He laughed outright. “And knowing you, you have not let it go unmarked. Poor Charlotte, how very irritating to be admired by a policeman, of all things!”
Their arrival was all Emily could have hoped for, indeed have planned. And thereafter for at least the first two hours all went well; but later she found Ashworth’s attention wandering not only to his drinking and gambling companions, but especially to one Hetty Gosfield, a conspicuous girl of somewhat indelicate charms, but influential parentage and, worse than that, money. She had always known that Ashworth had an admiring eye for a pretty woman, and she had not expected to hold his entire attention, or even the larger part of it, without considerable work. But this Gosfield woman was beginning to be a threat.
Emily watched as Ashworth, at the far side of the room, smiled into the eyes of Hetty Gosfield, and Hetty laughed happily back. A quarter an hour later the situation was much the same.
Emily took a deep breath and considered. Above all things she must not make a scene. Ashworth abhorred any vulgarity that was not his own; even when he found it amusing, he still despised it. She would have to be far subtler than that; put the Gosfield woman in the wrong.
It took her some time to work it out, as her attention was divided between carrying on a conversation with Mr. Decker without talking too apparent nonsense, controlling her temper, and coming to a satisfactory plan of action.
When at last she moved it was with decisiveness. She knew one of Ashworth’s young friends passably well, the Honorable William Foxworthy-empty-headed, possessing more money than good taste, and of an exhibitionistic temperament. It was not hard to attract his attention. He was at one of the tables playing cards. He saw her watching him. She waited until he won.
“Oh, excellent, Mr. Foxworthy!” she applauded. “What skill you have. Indeed, I swear I have never seen anyone cleverer-except Lord Ashworth, of course.”
He looked up sharply.
“Ashworth? You think he is cleverer than I?”
She smiled sweetly.
“Only at cards. I have no doubt you excel him in many other things.”
“I don’t know about other things, Miss Ellison, and I assure you I have a greater skill at cards.”
She gave him a gentle look, full of patience and total disbelief.
“I’ll show you!” He stood up, the pack in his hand.
“Oh, pray, don’t trouble yourself,” she said quickly. It was going extremely well, exactly as she had intended. “I’m sure you are most able.”
“Not able, Miss Ellison.” He was stiff now, full of outraged pride. “That implies mere indifference. I am better than Ashworth. I’ll prove it.”
“Oh, please. I didn’t mean to disturb your game,” she protested, still loading her voice with disbelief.
“You doubt me?”
“Do you wish me to be honest?”
“Then you leave me no option but to beat Ashworth, and oblige you to believe me!” He strode across the room towards Ashworth, who was still totally engaged with Hetty Gosfield.
“George!” he said loudly.
“Oh, please!” Emily cried plaintively, but did not follow him beyond the first few paces. She must not be seen to have instigated this, or the whole purpose would be destroyed.
It worked marvellously. Foxworthy disrupted the tete-a-tete, demanding to prove his superiority. Ashworth could not resist, and Hetty Gosfield argued at first, but as Ashworth became annoyed with her because she was being tiresome and drawing a vulgar attention to them, she sulked and went away with someone else.
After it was all over Emily found herself with Ashworth again.
“Beat him,” he said with satisfaction.
“Of course,” Emily smiled. He apparently had no idea that the exercise had nothing to do with skill at cards. “I had presumed you would.”
“I can’t bear vulgarity,” he went on aggrievedly. “Bad taste for a woman to make an exhibition of herself.”
Again Emily agreed, although privately she thought it was no worse for a woman than for a man; but that was not the way society saw it, and she knew the rules well enough to play by them, and
It was only when she was at home, lying in bed staring at the gaslight patterns on the ceiling, reflected from the lamps outside, that she reviewed the evening. There was no question in her mind that she still intended to marry George Ashworth, but there must be a weighing of his faults, a decision as to which might reasonably be changed, and which she would have to learn to live with, and herself change. Perhaps it was too much to require of any man of breeding and wealth that he should be faithful, but she would most certainly require that he be discreet in his liaisons. He must never make her an object of public sympathy. When the time was right, she must make that quite clear.
Again, he might gamble his own money as much as he chose, but never mortgage that which she might in good conscience regard as his provision for her-in other words their house, the wages of servants, a carriage and good horses, and a dress allowance sufficient to permit her to appear as becomes a lady.
She fell asleep, still thinking of the practicalities.
The following Thursday she went with Sarah to visit the vicar and Mrs. Prebble for tea, and to discuss the forthcoming church bazaar.
“But what if the weather is inclement?” Sarah asked, looking from one to another of them.
“We must trust in the Lord,” the vicar replied. “And September is frequently the most delightful month of the year. Even if it rains, it is unlikely to be cold. I don’t doubt our faithful parishioners will suffer it with good grace.”
Emily profoundly doubted it, and was glad that Charlotte was not there to express her opinion.
“Is it not possible to arrange some form of shelter, in case of misfortune?” she asked. “We can hardly rely upon the Lord to favour us above others.”
“Us above others, Miss Ellison?” The vicar raised his eyebrows. “I fear I have not grasped your meaning.”
“Well, perhaps others may require rain,” she explained. “Farmers?”
The vicar looked at her coolly. “We are about the Lord’s business, Miss Ellison.”
There was no courteous answer to that.
“It may be quite easy to arrange to borrow some tents,” Martha said thoughtfully. “I believe they have some at St. Peter’s. No doubt they will be happy to lend them to us.”
“It will be something of a social occasion,” Sarah observed. “People will be wearing their best clothes.”
“It is a church bazaar, Miss Ellison, to raise money for charity, not for women to disport themselves.” The vicar was cold, his disapproval obvious.
Sarah blushed in embarrassment, and Emily charged to her defence in a manner worthy of Charlotte.
“Surely to appear on the business of the Lord one would wish to wear one’s best, Vicar,” she said blandly. “We can still behave with decorum. We do at church, where you would not expect us to come higgledy- piggledy.”
A curious expression flickered across Martha’s face, something like triumph and fear at the same time, and an obscure humour also, gone before it could be recognized.
“True, Miss Ellison,” the vicar said piously. “Let us hope everyone else has the sense of duty and fitness that
