The Regency (115 page)

‘Then,' said Skelwith promptly, 'might I have the pleasure
of escorting you to the library, Miss Nordubois? If your lady
ship should find it acceptable?' he added politely to Héloïse. Héloïse, after briefly consulting Mathilde's face, and reading
in its heightened colour and lowered eyes no great aversion to
the scheme, consented, and proposed that they should all
meet again at Enderby's, the draper's in Stonegate, in an
hour's time.

John Skelwith offered Mathilde his arm, and they walked off down Coney Street, while Héloïse and Sophie turned in
the other direction. They were silent at first, as Mathilde over
came her confusion at finding herself alone with her former
admirer again, and Skelwith reflected on all the various
complications of his life. Few of them had been his own fault,
and he was determined that, if Mathilde would have him,
there should at least be no misunderstanding to rob him of his happiness again.

They talked pleasantly of neutral topics all the way to the
library, where he waited while she conducted her business,
and then offered her his arm again, and turned in the direc
tion of Stonegate. They had plenty of time before they were
to meet the others, and it was a fine, warm September day.
They strolled at an easy pace, and talked as they walked,
finding again the similarities of mind which had given rise in
former days to such a pleasant intimacy between them. John
felt suddenly cheerful. The world was an agreeable place to live in after all; and Mathilde was, as she had always been,
the dearest girl!
After a while, he said, 'I am very pleased to have this
opportunity of talking to you, Miss Nordubois. There has
been no occasion since the races, what with Miss Morland's wedding, and my continued state of deep mourning. But now I am into half-mourning, I hope you won't think it improper
of me to raise a subject dear to my heart?’

Embarrassment made Mathilde's reply inaudible, but did
not seem to convey unwillingness to be addressed.

‘
You know, I hope, how very much I have always admired you?' he began. 'When I spoke to you at the races, it seemed
to me that you were not entirely indifferent to me. If I was
mistaken, please forgive me; but if you would welcome, even
if you would not wholly dislike, a return of my addresses, I
should be happy and honoured to count myself again amongst
your admirers.' She didn't answer, and he asked with a shade
of anxiety, 'Are you — may I ask? — promised to another?’

Mathilde drew a long sigh. 'No, Mr Skelwith. I am not
betrothed.’

He smiled. 'Then — dear Miss Nordubois, may I hope?’

She raised her eyes. ‘Mr Skelwith, I know that your mother
was very much against our friendship before. I don't know
why, but I can guess.’

Skelwith coloured at the memory. How could it be? Had Mathilde heard a rumour from somewhere? For himself, he
did not believe a word of it. His mother, he was sure, had
been hysterical and had not known what she was saying. He
had met James Morland many times since, and he had not
betrayed any kind of consciousness towards him. 'I am sure
my mother could have no reason to object to you,' he said
awkwardly.

‘
But I am without birth or fortune, Mr Skelwith,' Mathilde
said. His shoulders sank in relief.

‘
That, ma'am, can be no impediment. I have sufficient
fortune to make it a matter of no importance whatever. I must
tell you that my mother is old and frail, and she does not
always mind what she says. But you must not let her upset
you. I assure you she means nothing by it.’

Mathilde was silent, though not for the reasons he thought.
After a while he said, 'My mother will get used to the idea
eventually. I do not any longer allow her to interfere with my
happiness. It may sound unfilial to you, but it is the only way.
I'm sorry to say she is not always — entirely rational.’

Mathilde looked up and pressed his arm, moved by this
difficult confession. 'You need not explain anything to me,'
she said urgently.

He smiled. 'Dear Mathilde,' he said, cutting through the layers of time and social distance between them, 'we were
such good friends. We enjoyed each other's company. All I ask is that you allow me to see you, to try to please you, try to win
you. I don't expect you to fall into my arms the first minute I
speak to you! But let me place myself at your service, and see
if there is any possibility of making you love me.’

She felt grateful to him for his generosity, for loving her
still, for not being too proud to admit it. She liked him — she
had always liked him — and it seemed so long since she had
enjoyed the simple pleasures of being wooed without compli
cation. 'I should like you to try,' she said shyly.

His smile broadened. 'Excellent! You have made me very
happy. Then, as a beginning, may I call for you tomorrow
and take you out for a drive?'

‘Yes,' she said. 'Thank you.’

They stood outside Enderby's, chatting, and the time
seemed to fly past, so that they were both surprised when
Héloïse and Sophie appeared, and apologised for being late.
Skelwith took his leave, to walk the few steps to his house,
further up Stonegate.

‘
Your servant, ma'am! Miss Morland! Until tomorrow
then, Miss Nordubois.’

Héloïse led the way into the shop, and was soon deeply
involved in the delicate business of matching ribbon. She was not too preoccupied, however, to say mildly to Mathilde, 'Are
we to have the pleasure of seeing Mr Skelwith tomorrow, ma
there?’

Mathilde coloured a little. 'He is calling to take me driving, Madame. I hope you have no objection?'

‘
Not the least in the world,' Héloïse said, with some sinking
of the heart. She had hoped that particular complication was a thing of the past. 'He is a very agreeable young man. Such
pleasant manners. I can't decide between this colour, and
this. What do you think, Mathilde? Which is the better
match? Sophie,
mon ange,
hold them up by the window, in
the light.’

But Mathilde was deep in contemplation of the interview
she was honour-bound to have with Edward before tomorrow
dawned, and was no help at all over the ribbon colours.

*

'Cousin Edward, may I speak to you?' Mathilde said, with
considerable trepidation. She had hung about all day, trying
to find an opportunity, but she never came across him alone.
Now dinner was over, and tea had come and gone, and the
evening was almost wasted. She had to take advantage of the chance of Héloïse's being out of the room for a moment, and
James's being preoccupied at a little distance with the news
paper.

Edward looked up, and to Mathilde's surprise, seemed as
confused as she felt. 'Yes, of course. In fact, I was wanting to
speak to you.' They both looked doubtfully at James. Edward
buckled his brow, and nodded towards the door. 'The steward's
room,' he murmured.

No fire had been lit in the steward's room that evening,
and the air struck a little chill. 'Are you cold?' Edward asked,
looking at the grate in concern.

‘
No, no, I have a thick shawl,' Mathilde said quickly. She
was in terror that, now they were alone, he would want to put
his arms round her and kiss her, as they had used to do when
ever life granted them a moment's privacy together. She no
longer wanted his caresses. That fact alone must tell her that
her feelings for him had changed; and the knowledge of her
own inconstancy made her ashamed.

But Edward did not make any move towards her. He stood by the desk, his eyes down, tracing a pattern with one finger
tip as though he could not make up his mind to speak.

‘
Cousin Edward,' Mathilde began, drawing a deep breath
to face the disagreeable task.

He looked up and interrupted her. 'My dear Mathilde, pray
let me speak first. There is something that I must say, and I'm
afraid I shall lose my courage if I delay. I should have spoken
to you long before this, but somehow — well, at all events,
I must speak now. While you were visiting your friend at
Coxwold, I tried to speak to Fanny about our future, after she
inherits the estate.' Mathilde drew a sharp breath. He went on, 'I'm sorry to say that she spoke in such hostile terms to
me, that I've no doubt whatever she means to throw us both
out as soon as she is of age. And you've seen what mark of
man she has married. If you can doubt that that precious pair
will want Morland Place to themselves —'

‘
No,' Mathilde said quietly. 'I have no doubt.' If he asks me
now to marry him and live in poverty with him, how can I
refuse? she thought miserably. It would be too cruel.

‘
You know my circumstances,' he went on. 'You know how
small a provision I will have at that time — too little to
support a wife in even the modicum of comfort. My dearest
Mathilde,' he said with sudden vehemence, clenching his hands at his sides, 'I
cannot
ask you to marry me when I
haven't the means to support you. Though I know it is a
dreadful thing to do, a dishonourable thing, I must ask you to
release me from our unofficial engagement.’

She stared at him in surprise, unable at once to speak, and he hurried on. 'You are angry with me, I can see. And I don't
blame you. I have acted reprehensibly; but I trust you will
believe that I never meant to hurt you. I know that Héloïse
will always provide you with a home, more comfortable than I
could make for you; and I am of the strongest hopes that,
once you are free of me, you will still find a husband, a good,
honest young man who can provide for you properly. Dear
Mathilde, I do love you, and sincerely wish you well. Will you forgive me? Will you release me?’

Mathilde had to find words. She swallowed once or twice,
and then said, 'Of course I forgive you. But there's nothing to
forgive: it is I who am to blame, for insisting on our continuing
with the engagement against your will. You said long ago
that we should part, and I have been selfish in maintaining it.
I hold you in the greatest esteem, and I hope we may continue
good friends?’

She held out her hand, and he grasped it gratefully.

‘We shall always be that. You have been everything that is
generous,' he said. There was a pause. 'And now, what was it
you wanted to speak to me about?'