My Dear Jenny (9 page)

“The last time you were here you spoke of a man, you sly
thing, and it has taken me till now to recall it. What became of him? Does he
call? Has he shown an interest in you?”

“If you mean Peter Teverley,” Jenny said directly, with as
much composure as she could muster, “why, yes, he has called several times.
Only, I think, because his cousin Domenic has a powerful infatuation with Emily—the
merest puppy love—and his visiting gives Dom a chance to come in his
company to visit as well.”

“And what excuse does Mr. Peter Teverley use?” Lady Bevan
asked archly.

“I doubt that a man of his years and superior command needs
any excuse at all. And even did he feel the need of one, it would be the merest
civility.”

“How often has he called?” Maria asked pointedly.

“He may call two, perhaps three times in a week although we
by no means are always in.” Jenny reflected silently that it was remarkable how
often they
were
at home when the Messrs. Teverley called.

“And if he hasn’t a
tendre
for you, why does he call?”
Maria continued impatiently.

“He might have a
tendre
for Emily, but somehow, I
cannot believe it so.” Jenny offered judiciously. “She’s pretty enough to break
all manner of hearts, certainly, but I think—I hope!—that a man of
his wit looks for more than mere prettiness. Not that Emily isn’t the dearest
and sweetest of girls, but she sometimes puts me forcibly in mind of—”
Jenny broke off, horrified realizing she had been about to indict her hostess. “But
then, I am not too sure—perhaps he does have a
tendre
for her,”
she finished lamely, well aware of Maria’s unsatisfied look.

“Jenny, you disappoint me. Here am I, determined to find you
a romance, and at every possibility you shy away! It is the most fatiguing
thing, and exceedingly unkind as well. And you still have not told me about
your Mr. Teverley.”

Jenny stated mildly that she was under the impression that
they had talked, of little else for the past five minutes. Maria, in her turn,
warned her friend that if she did not take care, people would accuse her of
being a wit. Jenny denied this vigorously.

“I meant,” Maria insisted, “that you have not told me why
you and he come to blows.”

“Mary Ervine, I have never heard anything so shocking in my
life! I may have said that we were like to come to blows, and certainly there
have been moments when it would have pleased me greatly to box Peter Teverley’s
ears for him, but all that has ever passed between us are words—a few
sharp words, once or twice—”

“And this from Genia Prydd, who never said boo to anyone?
The same girl who let the curate tread steadily on her toes for an hour and a
half in church one day because it wasn’t her place to scold him for it?
Jenny
!”

“
Maria
,” Miss Prydd mimicked. “What a child of
sixteen will put up with and what is acceptable to a woman past her prime are
two entirely different things. Mr. Teverley has a peculiarly free and easy
manner. Not unpleasant, mind, but he comes so close to doling out set downs now
and then that it seems inevitable that he should receive some himself.”

“I don’t know, but the only people I have ever seen who deal
that way are Althea and Calendar, and they’re so besotted with each other that
it’s hard to get one to say a word without the other.”

“That is hardly the case with myself and Mr. Teverley,”
Jenny said drily. She was wondering what new, fascinating topic she could
introduce to make her friend forget the rather painful subject of Mr. Peter
Teverley. “Mr. Teverley comes to visit us because he wishes to pay his
respects, and to see how Emily is fairing; he has an interest, a
fatherly
interest, in her, and helped us both when she was being plagued by a dreadful—uh—problem—”

“Adrian Ratherscombe,” Maria supplied helpfully.

“Yes, Mary, but how did you know of it?”

“Why, la, dear, this is London! Her family covered it
nicely, but these things will out, and since there was no damage done, and
Emily was punished by her own stupidity—and yes, I will call it that, for
what a silly, green thing to do! But you see, she is accepted again at Almack’s,
and everywhere else—although I imagine that it was something devilish for
her mamma to procure that voucher at first!” She broke off. “This is hardly to
the point. Is your Mr. Teverley any relation to Lord Teeve?”

“Maria, this is growing exceedingly tedious,” Jenny murmured
in tones of despair. “I will tell you everything I know of Mr. Teverley: he is
unmarried, was an India merchant for some few years—”

“Perhaps he’s a nabob! Oh, Jenny, how splendid for you if he
were to offer—”

“Maria, this is not becoming talk, and I will not have it!
Peter Teverley would no more look at me than the man in the moon. I have grown
used to the fact that I am an old maid, and I do not intend to spend my life
repining. But I neither intend to spend it in fruitless daydreams.”

Lady Bevan’s delicate lower lip trembled. “Jenny, my love, I
had no idea that
you
had a
tendre
for him.”

“Mary, Good God! What could give you that idea? You have
been throwing the man at my head since I entered your door, and despite my
assurances that he has no interest in an—an—ape-leader!—you
continue to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny,” Lady Bevan sighed meekly. “But
is
he related to Teeve?”

“Yes, Mary.” Jenny sighed with wry exasperation. “He’s some
sort of cousin to Teeve and Domenic Teverley, who is Teeve’s heir. Mr. Teverley
was in the army after he left India, and is only now returned to the country.
And that, I swear, is all that I know of him. Will it do?”

“I wonder which one he was.” Maria muttered abstractedly. “He
wasn’t the rakehell one, was he?”

“The what?”

“One of Teeve’s cousins, or brothers, or nephews or
something, was a dreadful rake some years back ... I suppose that we were both
in the nursery then. He eloped with someone, or seduced her, or some such
thing. And was a terrible rabble-rouser, always wanting to make speeches to the
crowds. And gamed horribly. And was expelled from university. Or something like
that. But one of them was a terrible loose-screw.”

Some perverse notion made Jenny agree that it might have
been the Teverley with whom she was acquainted, although in truth, anything
less like a loose-screw than Peter Teverley she could not imagine. Aside from
the fact that the whole thing sounded very much like poor melodrama, she had to
admit that Maria was prone—very prone—to exaggeration.

“In any case, my dear, it was long ago, and who knows but
what he may have reformed himself. But do have a care in any attentions that he
shows you, Jenny love, since he—”

“Maria, I give you my word that Peter Teverley sees nothing
more in me than a convenient chaperone for Emily Pellering. Indeed, if anyone
should be wary of his attentions, it is Emily, for she has the most dreadful
schoolroom infatuation with him. Indeed, your story might be the way to
dissuade her from it, for I am sure the there is nothing in it.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Bevan said bewilderedly. “I am at
sea now, when I thought I would understand everything, and if you do not make
this clear to me I shall think you a very poor sort of friend.”

“In truth, Mary, I’m not altogether sure myself. But just
now, I see, I am a very late friend indeed,” Jenny cried ruefully, neatly
distracting Maria’s attention. “Look at the time! And we are engaged to dine
out this evening. Mary, I vow and swear that I shall return in short order to
visit you. Please give my love to your sister, and to your Francis as well—do
you know, I have never even met him?”

She reached for her pelisse as Lady Bevan broke into a paean
of praise for her absent lord, ending with the solemn vow that, if her dearest
Jenny
would
go, the next time, she would come to see Lord Bevan and his
wife both.

“You must come and visit more often, my love. You’ve no idea
how unpleasant it is to sit and do nothing all day long!” Jenny refrained from
reminding her that Maria Ervine had been celebrated as the Laziest Girl on
Earth when they attended school together. “Pray give my respects to Miss
Pellering. And, Jenny?” Maria smiled awkwardly. “Think more kindly of yourself.
You are a good friend.”

With mutual exchanges of affection and an embrace that
perilously endangered Jenny’s second-best bonnet, the two parted and Jenny
joined the maid who was waiting to accompany her to the Graybarr household.

Thinking idly as they walked, Jenny realized that Lady Teeve
might be in a position to do greater harm to Emily than she had thought—should
that lady hear of the affair at the inn! It was not to be thought of. For Dom
won’t stop visiting, and Teverley will not listen to reason, and—no, but
perhaps I can persuade him that it might hurt Emmy’s reputation to be seen so
often with an older man. Nonsense! And he’ll know it. What on earth am I to do.
“I almost wish that I had caught the measles!” she announced aloud, to the
considerable astonishment of the maid at her side. But if she had never stopped
at the Green Falconer, think of the excitement she would have missed. I shall
never see half this sort of excitement again when I return to Winchell House;
at least, not until Annabella is of courting age. And by then I shall be safely
past thoughts of—of anything!

And with this grim comfort, Jenny entered the Graybarr House
and scurried upstairs to change for the evening.

Somewhat distraught from her two very different interviews
that afternoon, Jenny had hoped to make her way to her room and change without
attracting any notice. This plan was scotched immediately she entered the
house: Emily met her as she started up the stairs, with an air of distress
poorly masked by her own curiosity.

“You said that you were writing letters this afternoon, Jen.
Where on earth have you been this hour and more?”

“I finished two letters most dutifully, and then decided it
was high time that I called upon Maria Bevan. Am I terribly late?”

“No, no, certainly not.” Emily assured her distractedly. “But
had anyone, I mean, did anyone call before you left?” The question was tendered
in tones of portent; Emily raised dark, turbulent eyes to Jenny’s in a pleading
silence. Unsure as to what any of the servants might have said about Lady Teeve’s
call, Jenny hesitated a second. “Jenny, were you here when Mr. Teverley called?”

“Mr. Teverley?” Jenny breathed with relief. “No, dear. No,
Mr. Teverley had not called when I left the house. Did he call after?”

“And you weren’t out riding with him—or walking, or
anything?” Emily pressed.

Jenny viewed her friend with a little alarm. “Certainly not,
Emmy. In the first place, you know how I feel about horses! Riding? And in any
case, had I gone anywhere with Mr. Teverley, though heaven knows why he would
ask or I accept for such an outing, I would have told you. Don’t you know by
now that he and I cannot help but clash when we meet? A fine, comfortable way
to spend an afternoon that would be!” Emily slumped against the stairpost. “Did
Teverley call while I was out?” she asked more gently.

“I don’t know!
” Emily wailed, and Jenny guided her up
the stairs and into her own room. “All Feabers will say is that a gentleman
called while we were out, and declined to leave his card, but said he’d be back
some other time. Jenny, you would tell me if he had called, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would, love. What earthly reason should I have
to do otherwise?” Jenny spared a curious glance for her friend before returning
her attention to her wardrobe, where she was searching out a gown to wear to
the opera that night.

“Well, Feabers won’t say any more, and I swear it begins to
feel as if there is a conspiracy to keep us apart!”

Jenny turned to Emily, consternation warring with amused
sympathy. “Emily, even for one of a romantic nature, that is doing it
altogether too brown. Who on earth would take part in such a conspiracy?”

Emily studied her hands intently. “I’m sure I don’t know,
but Jen, if Mamma and Papa have asked you not to encourage me...”

“Or Mr. Teverley, perhaps?” Jenny murmured irrepressibly,
instantly repenting at the reproach in Emily’s eyes. “Look you, Emmy, I will
not, now or ever, keep anyone’s whereabouts a secret from you unless that
person has specifically asked me to do so. No, Mr. Teverley has
not
. But do please bear in mind that he
is twice your age—”

“Not at all! He is four and thirty, and I am eighteen.
Almost.”

Jenny saw no point in continuing to argue that point. “Then
remember also that it is not at all proper for a young lady to think seriously
of a gentleman until she has had some positive signs of a returned interest.”

Emily looked as though she would dispute this, or even bring
forth her evidence of Mr. Teverley’s interest in her, but some vestige of
discretion made her say, instead: “So no one called by when you were here?”

“No gentleman, Teverley or any other, called when I was
here.” Jenny evaded cheerfully. “Did the man leave no card?”

“Only the message that he hoped to have the happiness to
find me here at another time. Isn’t that the most remarkably romantic thing you
ever heard?”

Jenny was strongly tempted to answer that it was not, by any
means, and to further add that it did not sound like Mr. Teverley in the least,
but kindness won over common sense and a growing headache. “I suppose you will
have to wait until your unknown caller calls again. But please don’t be too
disappointed if it was only Dom, forgotten his cards, or Sir Andrew Mallory,
and Mr. Prinkle, or your uncle Millington.”

“Uncle Millington is known to Feabers, as is Sir Andrew, and
as for Mr. Prinkle”—Emily cast this would-be suitor to the dogs with
cheerful malice— “I doubt he has ever had the imagination to forget his
cards! Let alone refuse to leave one, should he have had it to leave. Well,”—she
abandoned her mystery suddenly— “what do you wear tonight?”