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Authors: Mary Chase Comstock

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Although there was to be no formal celebration, the day was nonetheless to be a full one. Cat would open her
gifts after breakfast. Mr. Bagsmith, her solicitor, was expected sometime after that to go over the details of her coming of age. After luncheon, Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin planned to depart for the Lake District, and Cat intended to speak with Snagworth, not only about the estate, but also his odd outburst at the wedding reception. With one thing and another this item had been neglected; moreover, she felt a little ill at ease taking the man to task before Uncle Martin had officially handed the reins of power to her. But today she was determined that she would speak her mind.

Cat dressed carefully in a new white muslin gown embroidered minutely with vio
lets and forget-me-nots. As it was early in the day, she let her dark curls hang loose and tied a violet velvet ribbon around them before she went downstairs. At the breakfast table she was greeted with good wishes from her aunt and uncle, as well as Eveline who had already joined them. Cat was delighted to see the first strawberries of the season and helped herself to the fresh cream that accompanied them. Uncle Martin arose and cleared his throat. “Before we begin, Catherine, I wish to propose a toast. Miss Bartlett, would we offend propriety if we began the day with some champagne?”


I think not,” she smiled mischievously, “although it seems most appropriate to be inappropriate on our Cat's birthday!”

Uncle Martin poured them each a tall sparkling glass.
“To Catherine. May this day of new beginnings bring happiness to our Catherine and to us all!”

After breakfast,
Cat opened her packages. Eveline gave her a beautifully bound collection of Elizabethan poetry. Cecily and John had left antique amethyst earrings to match the drop Cat had worn the day of the wedding. From her aunt and uncle came an inlaid jewelry box that played a waltz when the lid was opened. Cat smiled at the significance of the tune: they had discussed a number of times the appropriateness of her learning this dance.


This was delivered this morning, as well,” Uncle Martin said as he handed her a bouquet of new roses along with a card bearing Mr. Hazelforth's name. As Cat took the flowers, she noted with a rush of mixed feelings that the thorns had been carefully removed.

Soon after, the butler announced that Mr. Bag-smith was awaiting them
in the library. As Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin arose to accompany her, Cat took Eveline's hand. “Please come along, too. For all my independence, I know I may be needing your advice before too long, so I want you to be as familiar with my affairs as I am.” The other woman, gratified at this confidence, rose with a smile, and the two entered the library arm in arm.

There they found a remarkable scene. An exas
perated Mr. Bagsmith, who resembled nothing so much as newly boiled lobster, so red in face and bent over was he, was attempting to wrest a large envelope away from Brutus who had run behind the desk with it. As soon as Mr. Bagsmith's back was turned, Caesar helped himself to more papers from the solicitor's satchel. Aunt Leah and Uncle Martin began trying without much success to confine one or the other of the mischievous scamps, while Cat added her pleas to the general hubbub. If the truth were known, though, the naughty dogs paid as little attention to their mistress, who was notoriously lenient with them, as they did to anyone else. Finally after much coaxing and offering of treats, the two were finally captured and taken away, wagging their stubby tails, blithely ignoring any and all attempts to shame them.


Ahem,” Mr. Bagsmith began, much disgruntled, “I hope you will not mind the chewed corners, Miss Mansard. I can assure you that it will not affect their legality, although much of their aesthetic quality is now lost.” Mr. Bagsmith prided himself on the excellent penmanship of his clerks and he stared down at the tattered documents dismally.


I am very sorry for the trouble, Mr. Bagsmith,” Cat began, although the smile she tried to hide belied this statement. “Do let us begin.”

Mr. Bagsmith made a great show of arranging his
various papers, but finally cleared his throat and looked up at Cat. “You know to some extent, I believe, the terms of your grandmother's will. That is, you are her only heir and are to come into the estate upon reaching this, your twentieth birthday. There are, however, some rather unusual details which she wished to have kept from you until this day, Miss Mansard.”

Cat's mind raced. What could the will hold of which she was not already aware? Uncle Martin and Aunt Leah looked puzzled as well.

Mr. Bagsmith, basking in their attention, went on, “It was your grandmother's desire that if you had reached your twentieth birthday without having wed,
other
conditions to your inheriting would come into effect. These are outlined both in a codicil and in this letter which she wished you to read in the event you were still unmarried.” Here he paused and handed Cat a sealed letter.

Cat sat stunned, holding the letter in her hands for several moments. Then she slowly opened it, tears starting in her eyes at the sight of the famil
iar slanting handwriting:

****

My dearest Cat,

What your thoughts are today I cannot tell, but I can assure you with all my love that what I do is for your benefit. I have of
ten pondered whether I did right to let you grow up so independent in thought and action, for though I know this suits your nature best, I have feared you will incur the censure of society. Also, it is clear that you may be overly content with your own company to the extent that you will not seek out acquaintanceships that will lead to marriage. I know your general opinion of the world, my dear, but let me assure you that somewhere exists a partner who will cherish you for your true worth and one whom you can cherish in return.

Lest you miss this best part of life, I have laid down some strictures
, which I hope you will not resent too much (though I can picture with some apprehension what your first reaction will be):

First, as you are not likely to find a mate in the library at Sparrowell Hall, you will spend the Season each year in London until you are married. Yes, even until you are old and gray, although I doubt very much it will come to that.

Second, as I know your nature as well as anyone, I require that you offer proofs to my solicitor on a regular basis that you are indeed taking part in the doings of society by attending such balls, routs and other invitations as come your way.

Third, should you fail in regard to either of these requirements, you will be enjoined to marry whomsoever is deemed most fit by my solicitor or forfeit all claim on your in
heritance, but for £1,500 per annum.

Believe me, Catherine, that I know best and, however heartless I must now seem, wish only for your happiness. I have lived long, known both love and loneliness, and pray that you will find the former.

All my love,

Alice Mansard

****

The others had watched with curiosity turning to
concern, as Cat's expression changed from interest to petulance to shock. Once she was finished reading she rose and walked deliberately from the room without saying a word or responding in any way to their questioning looks.

From the library
, Cat proceeded directly to the grounds and soon lost herself among the paths as she wildly surveyed her new and disagreeable condition. Cat had never before thought of her grandmother in angry terms, and found she could not, even now, but railed inwardly against fate in general. She had so looked forward to the independence and liberty she had long assumed today would bring her. Now she would be more firmly controlled and faced with more serious consequences for untoward behavior than ever before. How could Gran have done such a thing?

The very thought of spending her favorite time of year in London was depressing, to say nothing of the disagreeable company she would be forced to keep. And how could she curb her behavior enough to even be invited anyplace more than once? Then Cat saw the shrewdness of her grand
mother's strictures: she
must
school herself in propriety, learn to control herself, and quickly adopt the manners preferred by society, or forfeit the home she loved, for she must surely refuse to wed some stranger chosen by Mr. Bagsmith! The idea of marrying at all, when she had sworn many times, and often in public, that such a thing would never be, was humiliating! Surely her pride would never recover.

Cat was
downcast by more than just hurt pride and the surface conditions prescribed by the will, however. She had thought that, by making her the sole heir, Gran had trusted her. And yet, as Cat mentally reviewed her behavior over the last several years, even at Cecily's wedding, she could see that, to some degree, her grandmother's concern was well warranted. Without more discipline and at least an attempt to conform to society's strictures, the day must surely come when she would have offended most of her acquaintance. Though Cat enjoyed her solitude, she was not prepared to be entirely a recluse.

As Cat wandered, stunned and confused at the news the day had brought, the weather changed to reflect her inner turmoil. She had come to the edge of the land overlooking the rocky coast as the once blue sky began to cloud over and darken. The wind came up chillingly and a drenching rain began to fall. Soon Cat was wet through, her fine muslin dress clinging and hair curling damply about her face. Behind her came the sound of quick footsteps and she put her face in her hands. Poor Uncle Martin must have
ventured into this foul weather to seek bring her home.


Miss Mansard, come at once into this copse and take some shelter!” Cat was shocked to hear Mr. Hazelforth's voice. What must he think now to see her in such a state? She felt his hand take her arm and guide her to the nearby stand of trees. There, Cat realized to her deep chagrin that her wet gown now clung most revealingly to her form, and she quickly crossed her arms over her bosom in a futile attempt at modesty.


Here, take my coat,” Hazelforth offered and he draped it over her shoulders. Although it, too, was wet quite through, Cat took comfort in concealment, clutching the lapels of the deep blue superfine well up to her chin as she shuddered with wretched embarrassment. This was surely the worst day in a bad life! Then, when she turned to thank him, she was even more chagrined to encounter the sight of Hazelforth in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. Through the dampened fabric she could clearly see the delineation of his well-muscled form and even an intimation of flesh-tones. She could only conjecture with dismay how much of her own rosiness might have been revealed through the even thinner muslin.


Your family and Miss Bartlett are concerned, Miss Catherine,” he broke in after a moment. “They were just setting out to find you when I came by to take my leave of you. Here, wipe your face on my handkerchief.” Cat did so, sniffing back her tears with an unseemly gulp. If he were to begin teasing her now, she reflected darkly, she was quite sure she would do him some bodily harm. Fortunately, however, Hazelforth stood silently by and restrained himself from making any comment or inquiry while she struggled to regain her composure as best she could.

While
Hazelforth stood watching Cat trying desperately to recover herself, teasing her was the farthest thing from his mind. As the trees above dripped down on her pitiful form, it was all he could do to resist the urge to take her into his arms and comfort her like a small child. He found this impulse altogether mystifying. He usually regarded the emotional excesses of the opposite sex with disdain or, at best, bewildered amusement— never with such commiseration as he was now experiencing.

He did not know what exactly it was that had upset her, but from the looks on the faces of her family, he was sure it must be a matter of some enormity. As she struggled to contain her tears, he could not help but admire her. In spite of her wet nose and glistening eyes, he thought she looked al
together charming—although he was fairly certain that would not be her own assessment of her appearance. Moreover, he was equally aware that a girl of her spirit and pride must be chagrined for him to have discovered that there was a soft, vulnerable side to her prickly nature.


The rain has let up a little,” he finally said. “We must take advantage of it and get you indoors again before you take a chill.”

As they made their silent way down the path, the clouds did begin to part a little and some warmth returned. Just before they were within view of the Hall, Hazelforth paused.
“You offered me your hand in friendship, I believe, some days past. I do not know the nature of your concerns, Miss Mansard, but if you ever have need, be assured that you may depend on that friendship. I will be leaving the district tomorrow morning, but I will call before I depart, if I may, to assure myself that no harm has come of this wetting.”

Cat finally turned to smile wryly up at him,
“It is no great problem, Mr. Hazelforth. My headstrong response to having my way thwarted is, like King Lear, to cast myself into the throes of a tempest. But I thank you for your concern and civility—and your restraint. I know I must make a tempting target for some jest or another.”


Indeed, Miss Catherine, you misjudge me,” he said in a low voice, for they had now reached the door. “I would not distress you now for all the world.”

BOOK: An Impetuous Miss
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