The Honorable Marksley (10 page)

“Is that how you met, then?” Phoebe asked, with too
eager an interest. “Did Tolliver Ashton introduce you?”

“No, Miss Lawes,” he said shortly.

“Oh, I wondered,” Phoebe continued lightly,
“because Caroline Chalmers had been married about a
year by then, yes?”

“Phoebe,” Squire Lawes warned. “You will not
annoy our guests with such tattle.”

Phoebe sat back, but the peevish glance she sent
Hallie signaled her intention to persist. Hallie thought
the girl immensely foolish; if Phoebe were not careful
she would provoke her adored Marksley. Hallie could
read his displeasure on his face. But Caroline
Chalmers. Who on earth was Caroline Chalmers?

“Ah, the incomparable Caroline Chalmers,” Archie
Cavendish conveniently supplied. “Now the Dowager
Marchioness of Wrethingwell-Drummond. `She walks
in beauty like the night.’ ‘Tis whispered Byron wrote
more than one of his stanzas for her. Saw the Exquisite
myself not three months ago. `A lovelier flower on
earth was never sown.’ Indeed!”

Richard Marksley eyed Cavendish with what Hallie could only term weary tolerance. She did not believe
that was entirely due to the youth’s wild tribute.

“You must be careful, Archibald,” the Vicar advised,
“to allow for the deficiencies of our party. Not all can
spring as swiftly from one reference to another.”

“I apologize, ladies and gentlemen,” Archibald said.
“‘Tis true that my passions lead me to gallop where a
more sedate pace would be in order.” He brushed a limp
lock of blond hair from his no-doubt fevered brow and
stared intently at Hallie. “You look to be a sensitive
soul, Miss Ashton”

Hallie tried a weak smile.

“I imagine you like poetry,” he persisted.

“I … yes, I do”

“What are your poetic views, Miss Ashton? Do you
place all feeling in the mind, as does Descartes, or-in
company with most young ladies,” and he shot a pointed glance at Phoebe Lawes, “in the heart?”

Hallie sensed Richard Marksley’s close attention.

“I believe the two are inseparable, Mr. Cavendish.
Certainly I believe that we love, or hate, as much with
the mind as with the heart”

“You are in company with the finest intellects in saying so, Miss Ashton!”

Hallie was less aware of Archie’s ardor than of
Richard Marksley’s quiet regard. She met his gaze,
intending to do so only briefly, but found her attention
fixed.

“Presumably,” he said, “you would never believe in
love at first sight then-my dear.”

Hallie’s chin lifted.

“I do not” She was conscious of all eyes upon her,
and felt uncomfortably warm. “Though there may be a
certain susceptibility-an inclination. One might wish
to love for the mind’s reasons, and one’s heart then
approves the first acceptable candidate.”

Squire Lawes laughed. “You must have been inclined
to Richard here then, Miss Ashton” He laughed again.
“And he to you, of course”

But Richard Marksley was looking grim. He had to
be recalling her encounter with his cousin Reginald.
He would be all too sensitive to the discrepancy
between her stated belief and her behavior in that
instance.

“What reasons could one have for wishing to fall in
love, Miss Ashton?” Archie Cavendish asked. “The
poets liken it to a torture of the soul.”

“I believe Miss Ashton is confusing love with marriage, Cavendish,” Marksley observed dryly. “After all,
it is not necessary to be in love to have children.”

Hallie blushed as the vicar cleared his throat.

“Are you certain, Mr. Marksley, that that is what you
wished to say?”

“I beg pardon, vicar. Unlike Mr. Cavendish, I am not
a poet.”

“Nevertheless,” Squire Lawes proposed with a
smile, “I suggest we keep that discussion from this
table. We are here to celebrate a betrothal after all” He
raised his glass to Hallie and then turned to her uncle.

The discussion at dinner covered the usual specula tions concerning fashion, weather, and politics. Were it
not for Phoebe Lawes leaning a bit too freely into his
arm, and Miss Binkin’s unrelenting, glassy attention,
Richard felt he might even have relaxed. Mrs. Lawes
was a frank woman of common sense and good humor.
She liked her horses, dogs, and chickens. She spoke
affectionately of Phoebe and her absent younger sons,
“the twins.” Augusta Lawes was also a competent
hostess-capable of carrying a conversation while
watching the progress of the meal. She had noticed
how often his glance strayed to Harriet Ashton.

“She will make a lovely bride, Richard,” she said
now, patting his hand. “We are so glad you are settling.
‘Tis good to have at least one member of the Marksley
family with plans here in Denhurst.”

This oblique reference to his cousin’s passing
acquaintance with Denhurst and his future tenants did
not surprise Richard. Reggie’s preferences had been all
too clear to the good townsfolk for many long years.

“You are too generous, ma’am. I have every reason
to stay fixed. You must remember that Denhurst is my
home”

“But London is as well, Richard. You have been fair,
though, and that is something all of us notice.”

The vicar and Phoebe Lawes seconded the comment,
while Miss Binkin merely continued to stare. The
woman was an oddity.

During a temporary lull in the chatter, Augusta smiled
at Hallie. “You seem a very clever young lady, Miss
Ashton. I wonder, are you also literary, like Richard?”

“I keep a journal, ma’am,” she said, with a swift
glance at him. He wondered why she should admit so
little with such reluctance. Her shyness, her sudden diffidence, irritated him. He knew she could hold her own
in any discussion. But Phoebe interpreted the tight line
to his mouth as disapproval.

“One has to be so careful not to be too broody, Miss
Ashton. There is always such a danger of becoming a
frightful bluestocking.” Before either of her frowning
parents could reprove her she turned to Richard. “You
must have endless submissions at your journal from
these busy dabblers, ugly spinsters, no doubt, who want
all of us to read every dreary word. But you would
never care for such trifles, would you, Richard?”

“Miss Lawes, I would not be so particular. There are
certain trifles, as you call them, that have appealed to
both men and women through the centuries. Certainly if
The Tantalus were to receive high quality work from
ladies, I should like to think we would be keen indeed.
`Twould be an honor to publish such as Anna Seward or
Joanna Baillie. To date, however, we have received little.”

“And you will not, sir,” Alfred Ashton asserted.
“Women do not undertake to refine their language. Nor
do they have the logical minds required for rational
argument. There are simply natural limits that cannot
be denied. Even a girl as well read as my niece would
be the first to agree to that”

Harriet Ashton did not look as though she agreed
with any of it. If eyes alone could be mutinous, Richard
deemed that hers were.

“I should not wish to deny the possibility, Mr.
Ashton,” he said. “I think that every age has its own
arrogance. Looking beyond our own time requires a
remarkable leap. I might find writing today that I
believe will last in appeal for centuries. But I cannot
truly know. Similarly, I suspect we are often indifferent, even stubbornly blind, to greatness among us.
Fashion, by definition, is fickle and short-lived.”

“Oh la, yes,” Phoebe Lawes sighed, and fluttered her
eyelashes at him.

Archie Cavendish looked excited.

“Are you submitting, sir, that some of those ignored
and ridiculed today might a hundred years hence be
considered `great’?”

Richard tried not to smile.

“It is possible, Mr. Cavendish. Although few appear to
last more than a generation if they make no impression
on their own. But there are always exceptions.” This time
he did smile. “I have told you I am only enough of a poet
to be a critic. All of us have our likes and dislikes, find
subjects or phrasing that speak to us and to our experience where another might dismiss them. I imagine everyone at this table has differing preferences as to what is
memorable, be it beautiful, haunting, or simply … true”

“I say, shall we give it a go?” Archie urged. “Let’s
hear what people select”

“Oh, Archie, dear,” Mrs. Mayhew said, “This is not
the time or place for a game. Our hosts-”

“Nonsense, Eleanor,” Augusta Lawes exclaimed.
“The girls have just removed the pudding. If the gen tlemen are willing to forego their cigars and have some
port here at the table, I would be most pleased to entertain Archie’s experiment.”

“Thank you, madam” Magnifying his pale blue eyes
by affectedly raising a lorgnette, Archie surveyed the
table. “I believe we should begin with the ladies.
Perhaps Miss Binkin?”

All gazes sought Millicent Binkin as she turned to
Archie, a scowl making her face fierce.

“What am I to do, then?” she asked.

“Why, quote us something you like. Some bit of
poetry. Something you have always remembered”

“Young man, I do not clutter my mind with rhymes
and other nonsense. It is a distraction from more
improving pursuits.”

As Archie’s face fell, Richard took a sip of port. He
had dealt with many of the world’s Binkins. Nowadays
he rarely troubled himself to persuade them.

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Mayhew ventured, “you recall
something from your school days, Miss Binkin.
Something you memorized for classes”

Miss Binkin frowned at the vicar’s wife. Then her
brow cleared.

“I do remember something useful. A rule” And she
quoted:

Phoebe Lawes coughed dramatically, drawing sharp
looks from her parents. The rest of the gathering sat
mute.

“Most practical, Miss Binkin,” Squire Lawes said at
last, sending another admonitory glance at his daughter.

“And you’ve remembered it all this time?” Archie
Cavendish asked snidely, still smarting from her earlier dismissal.

Millicent Binkin glared at him. “It has not been all
that long, Mr. Cavendish,” she snapped. “And this is not
much of a game if you are the only one to play it.”

“Michael, what do you have for us?” Augusta Lawes
asked, turning quickly to the vicar on her left.

“Well, I’ve a fondness for Cowper,” he said with a
shy smile. Clearing his throat, he recited in good voice:

“Capital!” Hallie’s uncle exclaimed, immediately
gratifying the gentle vicar. “I’ve always liked that as
well. Never knew it was Cowper. Thought it was the
Bible.” As the vicar winced, Augusta Lawes wisely
moved ahead.

“Now I must claim my turn, even though I am hostess and should doubtless surrender my spot to someone
else. But we do seem to be going `round the table this
direction, after all. I declare this next to be my very favorite. Though you’ll think me foolish for failing to
recall every word” She pressed a plump hand to her
bosom:

Her rapt expression spoke of her absorption; Richard
believed she needed only a moment more before continuing. But Archie Cavendish was unwilling to wait.