Feral Park (27 page)

“But of course,” said Mr. Alford teazingly. After a moment passed in which Anna was unable—still—to answer the query, Mr. Alford disconcerted her further through the following declaration: “My brother found each of you to be amiable and most agreeable. But it was Miss Henshawe who made the strongest and most lasting impression upon him, in spite of the fact that she was different from you and Miss Dray—that she was pretty in a way which may not be quickly apprehended by others who may meet her.”

“But if
I
may be bold, Mr. Alford, Miss Henshawe is not pretty at all.”

“To my brother, Miss Peppercorn, she is
beautiful—
as beautiful to his eye as—well—as you would be to the eye of any other man, or more specifically to the very one who sits beside you.”

“Then your spectacles must be terribly soiled, sir, for I look nothing like myself at the moment. I feel even that there is a twig in my hair.”

“I see it. May I pull it out for you?”

“No, you may not.”

“Do you wish me to depart, Miss Peppercorn? Am I putting you to ill ease? I would be terribly grieved to learn that such was the case.”

Anna shook her head, her face turning crimson from the rigorous attention. “I cannot believe you to be the same man who was described to me by Mrs. Taptoe; she said you were
shy
.”

“In certain circumstances I am quite shy, most withdrawn. When I am reading and when I am writing, especially, I go into my little shell and totally pull in my contemplative head like the turtle scholar. At other times I am afraid that I have a tendency to overcompensate and my disposition is brash.”

It was at this moment that Anna realised that she did not mind the attention of Perry Alford at all, even that aspect of it which coloured her. She, in fact, welcomed it. It was true; the middle of the three Alford brothers
was
perhaps the best candidate to fix her, although she would never tell him this in the course of such an early interview.

“I am fascinated, Mr. Alford, by the fact that your brother should find Miss Henshawe, who has been known to frighten young children when she turns her head too suddenly in their direction, to be a candidate for his interest.”

“Then be fascinated, Miss Peppercorn, for it is true. My older brother was struck and hopelessly and blissfully wounded.”

“Even though she spluttered and could not form sentences.”

“Even so. And he wishes very much to see her again. Perhaps you may arrange another meeting—this one of longer duration, so that she might— after the initial shock of his undivided attention subsides—regain serviceable use of her tongue.”

“I am afraid, Mr. Alford, that another meeting would not be easy to effect.”

“And why is that?”

“Has not Mrs. Taptoe told you of the sad predicament of the Misses Henshawe?”

“No, I am afraid that she has not.”

“They may not leave Moseley Manor except upon infrequent chaperoned occasions, which are limited almost exclusively to the attendance of Sunday services. Indeed, Miss Henshawe’s presence in Berryknell last week was engineered surreptitiously and quite conspiratorially by the steward’s daughter and Miss Dray and myself. It is hard work, we have found, to free poor Miss Henshawe from her cage for even a brief furlough.”

“That is outrageous.”

“Still, I intend to break the rules again, and this time to the benefit of all three of the sisters through a ball that I shall have here at Feral Park on Midsummer Eve.”

“A ball? My younger brother will be in raptures to attend his first ball in Payton Parish. And I, for one, would not be disappointed to do so either, should you also wish to invite spectacled and stumbling scribblers to your private assembly.”

“But alas, sir, I cannot.”

“No?”

“I am afraid not.”

Mr. Alford’s face fell. “But why not? I am utterly baffled.”

“It is a ball for only those who have not been blessed with pleasing countenances.”

“You mean that you are to have an
ugly
ball?”

“We do not call it the ‘ugly ball.’ It is called the ‘Feral Park Fête Galante,’ and you are not permitted to attend in accordance with the rules which I have imposed upon it.”

“I think, Miss Peppercorn, that there is only one rule that governs such an assembly and that is the following: that one shall not be invited unless he shall be ugly. Now, of course, you flatter me by saying that I am
not
ugly. I assume that it is destiny for my brothers, as well, that they should remain uninvited.”

“Your assumption is correct.”

“Even though such a ball would present the best opportunity for my older brother Wallace to see Miss Henshawe and to fetch her a glass of punch and make chit-chat about the weather and then speak to her in a more serious, heartfelt way—the way which offers the best chance of his winning
her
heart, and perhaps there would even be a dance or two if she should feel so inclined to take his welcoming hand!”

“But, Mr. Alford, as I have already indicated, your brother is wellcountenanced. Therefore he is not eligible to attend.”

“Then if I may ask it, Miss Peppercorn, why even have the thing if the way that you have fixed it bars perhaps the most important attachment, in my opinion, from taking hold?”

“Because, sir, the form of attachment to which you refer; I find to be most exceptional. On the whole, the idea of the ball is to present opportunities for connexions for the Misses Henshawe from amongst more
logical
candidates. This applies to the others who will attend the ball—those young men within the parish who may otherwise never have the chance to enter into marriage because of their present wretched circumstances.”

“My dear Miss Peppercorn, are you saying that my brother should have to step aside and allow another man—one with disagreeable features—to fix Miss Henshawe, simply so that there should not be a contravention of this capricious rule that governs your ball? Even though my brother already and without need of a ball sees something in Miss Henshawe that has kept her upon his mind ever since meeting her? My dear woman, does that make any sense to you?”

“Upon my word, sir, you speak quite easily and candidly in the presence of one whom you hardly know!”

“It is because I am most displeased that you do not intend to invite my brother to your ball, and if I must make my stand through ill-behaviour, I shall do so, for my affection for Wallace is the trump that takes every trick.”

Anna thought for a moment and then she said, “I take your point, Mr. Alford, and although I am appalled by your manner of address, your reasoning is sound. Yet I cannot have a young man in attendance who will serve by his commendable looks only to remind the other guests of the want and deficiencies of their own features. Your brother’s presence can only be disruptive to the entire purpose of the evening.”

As a remedial thought now seemed to cross Mr. Alford’s mind, he smiled, his eyes brightening. “Perhaps he could do something to the face to make himself less agreeable to behold.”

“What would he—
could
he do?”

“I can think of a dozen things
any
man may do to depreciate his looks, and which a good many men do without calculation every day! One may go three days or four without applying the razor, or one may go a fortnight without washing the hair. A man may chafe his lips and skin through excessive exposure to the winds upon the downs. There are other things as well: blackening of the teeth, false scars upon the face. These are, in fact, not only things which my older brother may do alone, but which my younger brother and I may do in brotherly concert. For I should hate to think that there is to be a ball held within Payton Parish to which Colin Alford—the best dancer now within the county—and his brother Perry Alford, one who has taken a friendly interest in the mistress who will give it, would not be invited. We would wish to attend if for no other reason than that Colin and I should both like very much to see our older brother enjoying the company of one who has apparently won his heart—even though she may not yet know it.”

“I do not know whether she knows it or not. I can only think that if she suspects it, she cannot bring herself wholly to believe it.”

“Miss Peppercorn, my brother is one and thirty years of age and has never married. He has had several opportunities to attach but, in the end, has found that the women who followed his regiment were, if not blatantly wanton, still wanting of a sweet and tender sensibility. I believe that you can confirm for me that Miss Henshawe is neither wanton nor possessed of any thing but a gentle and uncalculating heart.”

“And a tender soul, to be sure.” Anna was touched by the sentiment and checked the urge to cry. She withheld herself by thinking quickly of something diverting to say:“Your younger brother is indeed the best dancer in the county?”

“Most assuredly so.”

“Then I should think that he would be quite disappointed to find so many amongst my guests who either do not dance well or do not dance at all, for how often is one with a disagreeable countenance provided opportunity for learning all the latest figures?”

“My brother Colin, Miss Peppercorn, would not mind it in the least. For he rarely attends too closely to what others are doing in the set. He generally enjoys himself most to see his own performance within the glass. I may speak of him in such a blunt way, for this is how he speaks of himself. Make certain, therefore, that, should he attend, there be sufficient glass to delight him in his own reflection.”

“But
you
will not be looking in the glass at
your
own image?”

“My dear Miss Peppercorn, how could I be looking in the glass when I should be looking most assuredly at
you
!”

Anna blushed.

“I have embarrassed you. I am sorry. The brothers Alford have only a slight acquaintance with the rules that govern propriety and societal decorum. Our father, as I have told you, was a painter, and we grew up in the company of other free-spirited artists, hardly any of whom would be the sort to present themselves most easily before the king or even make an acceptable show in a proper manor drawing-room.”

“These days, Mr. Alford, I seem to meet fewer and fewer people who
are
acquainted with the right way to effect respectable social intercourse, and so I will acquit your clumsy forwardness without a second thought.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And on the morrow I will send out a card of invitation, requesting the attendance of you and your two brothers at the ‘Feral Park Fête Galante’ on Midsummer Eve.”

“My dear Miss Peppercorn, I am treading on air! You have made me a happy man indeed. In fact, there is nothing in the world that would make me happier, with the following exception: that I be allowed to come by to-morrow morning to check on the condition of your poor twisted foot.”

“As you are not my doctor, Mr.Alford, such a visit would carry a transparent purpose that will only put me to some inconvenience.”

“So I may not visit you upon your divan?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Rather—oh, my,
that
was a slip. May I not then through merely the most innocent manifestation of one neighbour’s solicitous concern for another come to spend one brief monitoring moment as you lie recuperating and, no doubt, fully chaperoned upon your divan?
That
was the intent of my remark.”

Anna sighed. It was not a true sigh. It was a sigh of show. Mr.Alford recognised the device in it and grinned.“Very well,”said Anna through yet a second, even more theatrical suspiration. “Come to-morrow, and if I am not feeling too wretched, I will see you for only the brief monitoring moment you suggest.”

Anna, in spite of herself, could not stop looking into the face of Perry Alford, even as pride and propriety directed her to turn away.

“Here now comes your aunt and one of your servants, and they will get you inside and put you upon the healing divan. I will be off and return tomorrow as we have arranged.” Mr. Alford helped Anna to her feet. She placed weight upon the injured foot and winced.

“It hurts now, but I wager that you shall be fully healed in no time at all.”

With a bite of the lip: “Thank you for the rallying encouragement, Mr. Alford.”

“Then adieu. I shall write you a poem during our time apart. Would you like that?”

“You need not, sir, but I should like it, I think, if you do.”

Mr. Alford handed the injured one to the arms of James, who allowed her to limp a step or two, but was then compelled by her whimper to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way to the mansion-house. Watching her go, Perry Alford suspired pleasantly and loudly enough that she should hear it. Over one of the large shoulders of her father’s man-servant, Anna stole a parting glance at the spectacled and sighing writer, who had, through their brief encounter in the Feral Park plantation, come very close to securing her heart.

She whispered to her Aunt Drone, who walked alongside of her: “I think, Aunt Samantha, that I fancy him.”

And the aunt smiled to hear it. For did she not plan it this way?