The Imaginary Gentleman (4 page)

“You were gone a fearful long time, Laura.”

“Time passed rapidly. I had never encountered a gentleman before whose conversation so interested me and I know he … Mrs. Gurdon all but fell asleep in her chair. I parted with Mr. Templeton outside her door.”

He nodded. “So ends your first encounter?”

“Yes, indeed. On Sunday I went to church with Mr. and Mrs. Gurdon. Sarah came with us, but I sent her back with them immediately after the service concluded,
on Elspeth's own request
.”

“You were gone an age then, too, Laura!” cried Elspeth. “I particularly wanted your opinion on the alterations I was proposing to my new muslin.”

Laura ignored the interruption. “I walked a little along the river path, Edward. I encountered Mr. Templeton on my way, quite by chance—he had attended the early service in Charmouth—and we walked together for a short time.”

“A short time, she calls it!”

“Pray forgive me if your sartorial emergencies did not distract me from a fascinating conversation.”

“What is my conversation, pray? I fancy it is not dull!”

Edward frowned at Elspeth. “Pray continue, Laura,” he said.

“I was walking with him no more than an hour. It wanted ten minutes to one when I returned.”

Edward nodded, encouragingly. “And the third meeting was on Tuesday, on the beach?”

“Not on the beach itself—it was much too windy. I met him at the bottom of the street, above the sea wall. We were expecting him to call so that I might present him to Elspeth, but not before midday. I wanted to get out of the inn for a while—I felt so confined. I momentarily forgot that Sarah had gone to shelter in Swan's.”

Elspeth gave a loud, impatient sigh but Laura continued.

“I forgot because I was taken by surprise—quite shocked when Elspeth said nobody had seen Mr. Templeton. On Tuesday, Sarah was whining about the cold—quite ridiculous for she was dressed warmly. She is incapable of enjoying the sights and sounds of the ‘vasty deep' as she puts it.”

“This was the moment when Mr. Templeton arrived upon the scene?”

“Indeed, yes. We talked for a few moments. Mr. Templeton made his excuses against his visit to us here at the inn, and left me.”

Elspeth took a sniff of her smelling salts. “It begins to be perfectly plain, Laura. Mr. Templeton has left the district or, if he remains, it is with no intention of meeting with you or your family again.”

“I know in my heart he would not have done so.”

“Forgive me for saying so, dearest, but you have so little experience in these matters. The gentleman enjoyed a brief flirtation and has taken fright as he realises that you think him a serious suitor.”

“You insult my intelligence, Elspeth.”

“Not at all, my love.” Elspeth's air of wisdom infuriated Laura. “Cleverness never will protect one's sensibilities from hurt. You are not the first lady to mistake the meaning of a few compliments from a gentleman.”

Laura jumped up and went across to the window. “I am not claiming to be engaged to him! I have met him just three times.”

“Exactly! He was very interesting, no doubt, but you had not time to get to know him.”

“To know his heart perhaps, but I understand his character. He is incapable of the deceit and cowardice of which you accuse him. He may well change in his inclinations but, if he engaged to present himself, only his inability to do so would prevent him, and he would find some means to explain his absence.”

Elspeth patted her lace collar. “If Mr. Templeton is so very nice in his observances …” She paused, eyebrows raised in query. “Where is he?”

Laura looked stricken, her complexion paled. “An accident has befallen him, as you will see.” She left the room.

Elspeth turned to Edward, sunk in gloom in his chair. “What are you brooding about, Brother? The simple truth is that the wonderful Mr. Templeton has taken to his heels. Am I wrong?”

“It is only too plain that you are correct.”

H
OW STRANGE A MYSTERY, SHE
thought, I cannot unravel it. These thoughts were in Laura's mind even as she opened her eyes the next morning. She yawned and blinked her eyes, heavy with weariness. She sat up, threw her shawl around her shoulders and fished about for her slippers, staring into the dim room. Why were my relations so reluctant to enter into the puzzle? she thought. Of course, they believe me deceived in Mr. Templeton's interest—and immodest in pursuing the friendship. What had Elspeth said, in that smug tone of voice? Oh, yes, “Forgive me, my dearest, but you have so little experience in these matters.” How galling! I well know the difference between the sympathy of character that leads to friendship and that which leads to—well, love.

Laura lit her candle and opened her journal to read about that first encounter.

Laura looked up from the journal and laughed at herself—had she really read so much in the gentleman's bearing in an instant?

Again Laura paused, and the clear memory of that short walk returned to her; she was still certain that the sensation had been mutual. The old lady had tired, requiring their support, and they had carefully matched their pace to hers, one or the other frequently bending a head to speak to her. Yet all the time, she had felt his consciousness like a touch.

Laura sat up and smiled. This explains the inn servants' ignorance of Mr. Templeton, she thought. Nothing could be simpler! They had not answered the bell! Why do I not remember these things when I am under Edward's examination? I used not to be so muddleheaded.

Ah, she thought, I am usually a cautious creature, for all my ability to quickly understand another's essential character. She rose and walked about the room. The rosy light appearing at the window drew her to it and she peeked out at the clouds, darkish, edged with silver and pink. Was I deceived about him—I think not! She returned to her reading.

Heavens, she thought. At the time, it was only a jest!

Laura was as convinced as ever that she had not mistaken his interest. Furthermore, she strongly believed that honour would lead Mr. Templeton to make his excuses in some way, if he feared he had raised unreasonable hopes. To simply disappear without a word, leaving her feeling puzzled, hurt, even insulted, would not be gentleman-like. In Laura's judgement, he was a man who would never avoid the responsibilities of a gentleman.

Some accident has befallen him, she thought. I shall prevail upon my brother to help uncover the truth.

Weary enough, she went back to bed.

 

Laura slept until well past nine o'clock. When she entered the small dining parlour, she felt it more confined and dim than usual. The table, lit with two candles, groaned with a selection of cold meats, pickles, eggs and fruit, from which Elspeth pecked daintily at this and that. Laura felt her stomach recoil.

“My dear, how ill you look!” cried Elspeth. “Does she not look very dreadful, Brother?”

“You do look tired, Laura,” said her brother. “Did you not sleep well?”

“I could barely sleep for thinking of this mystery, Edward.”

“You must try to avoid such thoughts, my dear.”

“Sarah will give you a sleeping draught tonight,” said Elspeth.

Laura waved away this offer. “There is something …”

“You shall have some toast,” said her sister. “I know you will prefer that.”

Elspeth nodded to the footman at the sideboard; he bowed and set about preparing to toast some bread at the fire.

“Thank you, Jonathon,” said Laura. She turned to her brother.

“Edward, there is something I wish you to do for me.”

“Of course,” he said, but she noted an unconvincing jocularity in his voice.

“I wish you to discover whether the horse that Mr. Templeton hired from the stables here was ever returned.”

Elspeth burst in: “Edward is not even acquainted with Mr. Templeton! For him to make enquiries would seem very peculiar.”

“Nothing could be easier. Men are forever loitering in stables and discussing the merits of various horses.”

Edward put down his cup, wiped his mouth and said, slowly, “Laura, my dear, I am not inclined to make enquiries after Mr. Templeton. Until he chooses to show himself, he is best forgot.”

“Forgot!” She bristled. “It is not as you think, Edward. As his friend, I wish to discover whether some mischance has befallen him. He would do the same for me, I am sure.”

“Your family would have cause to object if he made a public enquiry about you,” said Edward.

Elspeth cut in. “I should be very angry if a gentleman did so, if
you
had withdrawn yourself from
his
society.”

Laura opened her mouth to speak but words did not come. She felt the blood drain away from her cheeks. She stared at Edward, and he winced a little, looking away momentarily before returning her look with a blend of kind firmness and, horribly, of pity. Elspeth began to speak but Laura raised her hand and her sister fell silent, staring.

Laura said, “You were always my friend, Edward. At times you have been my only ally.”

“I am your friend and your ally now, dearest, did you but know it.”

“I think not.” She rose. “Pray excuse me, Elspeth,” she said.

“Where do you go, my love?” Now there was pity in her voice, pity laid on with a trowel.

Laura paused at the door but did not look back, saying, “I wish to
walk out. Perhaps the sea air will relieve my feelings of oppression.” She left the room.

Elspeth turned to Edward. “Oh, Brother, we have not been kind enough with her,” she said.

Edward looked at her keenly. “Elspeth, are you sure that you are not somewhat enjoying Laura's discomfiture?”

Tears swelled upon Elspeth's lashes and her lower lip trembled. “You do not know how I love my sister—I sacrificed myself for her!”

“Surely you don't suggest that you married Mr. Evans for Laura's sake?”

“Certainly, for Laura's sake! She would not take our cousin when he offered. It was left to me to secure our comfort.”

“You both had income of your own from our mother's fortune. I purchased Wintern Cottage for
your
use after our father died.”

“Yes—and Laura stayed crammed in there after my marriage, determined to disoblige me, and make me appear mean to the world. Only my aunt's death—the loss of a chaperone—forced Laura to move to St Austell.”

“She would not leave Aunt Morrison alone in the world, despite the old lady's cold nature. What is there to criticise in that?”

“You make it sound very fine.”

“It was not a luxurious life but it was the life of a gentlewoman.” Edward saw how ready his sister was to take offence, and said, “We are not all the same, Elspeth. Nobody blames you for desiring more comfort, and Mr. Evans was a man of highest character. He loved you very well to his dying day.”

“That day was a good deal further off than I had been led to expect.”

“Elspeth!”

“He was one and eighty! Everyone said he would not live above a twelve month—and I believed it. And why should he not love me well? A much younger man might feel gratitude for my hand.”

Edward sighed. “Let us not quarrel, Elspeth, over what is done. I wonder where Laura has gone.”

“Down to her precious sea. I cannot imagine …”

“She would surely not …” They looked at one another.

“You must go to the stables, Edward, before our sister does.”

“I just pray she is not there before me.”

He winced as he rose too quickly from his place, seizing his cane as Elspeth rang for his hat and gloves. He left with all speed.

Elspeth sank onto the sofa with a cross sigh. Laura had raised her hopes with her talk of Mr. Templeton. She should have known better than to think Laura would ever win a man. Heavens! Aunt Morrison was always saying that Elspeth must wait for her elder sister to marry before she accepted an offer—but she changed that idea very rapidly when Mr. Evans appeared. Six years of marriage, and now Elspeth was widowed, with Laura still a spinster. If she would marry, I might spend my time more freely with Lady Clarydon, Elspeth thought.

She smiled, and took a letter from her pocket. How kind the dear countess was to reply so speedily. She stroked the letter and put it away.

The way Edward spoke of Mr. Evans's goodness, one would think Elspeth knew nothing of the matter. Of course, he had loved her well. What man would not! If he was old and ugly, then he must expect to pay for the affections of a pretty girl of sixteen. Ugh! Why had no one told her how it would be?

 

Laura had not gone to the stables but walked down to the foreshore and along the path to the Cobb. She did not feel inclined to walk out upon it; she merely glanced about the place for a sign of the one who was so much in her thoughts. He was not to be seen. The waves out at sea were choppy, as the wind had picked up again, blowing clouds across the sky.

Again the fishwives had their skirts hitched up well-nigh to their thighs. Laura looked towards them unseeing, as their powerful arms pulled on the net, until she was roused by one of them screeching “Get thee to thy work!” Her reverie broken, Laura saw that three ragged children stood idle, looking up at her, mouths open. One of the women waded out of the water and cuffed each over the ear.
Crying “Ow”, they bent again to their task of sorting the fish in the baskets set on the stones. The woman gave Laura a sly, sidelong look over her shoulder, and headed back into the water. Laura's brief urge to remonstrate subsided; how could she, a stranger, with no experience of want, hope to make a kind mother of the woman?

Further out in the harbour, she saw a small boat sailing close to the end of the Cobb, headed out of its shelter and into the sea beyond. How happily I would join in their adventure, following them out onto the ocean, she thought.