"Yes, Miss Selena. And I wish it was the Bart instead, begging your pardon, miss. As do the other servants."

"I daresay we shall soon be back to normal, Bannister, just the three of us and Master Peter. I'll take a

piece of toast and some tea, please."

She nibbled her toast without enthusiasm but drank three cups of tea, warming her hands on the forget-me-not painted china and sipping slowly, until she could procrastinate no longer.

"Is Mama in the stillroom?" she asked.

"Her ladys.h.i.+p was consulting with Cook, miss, but I expect she's finished by now. I'll send young Polly

to find her."

Polly reported that my lady was now talking to Mrs. Tooting but would join Miss Selena in the drawing

room shortly. Selena found Delia there, practising a funeral march on the pianoforte. She looked up as her sister entered and attacked immediately.

"Have you quarrelled with Mr. Hastings, Selena? He said nothing about leaving before you went to

Abingdon with him.""Of course not.""You have such a quick temper, you must have said something that upset him.""On the contrary. There's no need to be in the mopes, Dee, you will see him soon in London.""I'm not moping. I'm sure I do not care if I never see him again. I expect he will visit you often when you are married, since he and Hugh are bosom-bows?"

"I'm not going to marry Lord Iverbrook after all."

"What? Selena, do you mean it? Then I shall have to go to Aunt Ringold. You are the meanest creature, I

vow! I daresay Mr. Hastings will never call on Aunt Ringold." Delia flounced out of the room in a huff,

nearly knocking over one of the housemaids, who had come to build up the fire.

Selena huddled in a chair, cold in spite of the blazing logs in the fireplace. The day outside was as bleak as her thoughts. What was she going to tell her mother? That she had gone off half-c.o.c.ked again and ruined her own life forever? She should have given Hugh a hearing, however despicable he was.

Delia had said that she had a quick temper; it was not true. In general she was calm and collected, dealing with crises on the farm with unruffled composure. It was Hugh's fault she had been so impetuous

recently. She hoped she would never see him again!

Lady Whitton came in, sat down beside her, and took one of her cold hands between her own.

"What is it, dearest?" she asked.

Selena wanted to cry, but no tears came.

"I'm not going to marry Hugh," she said, speaking with difficulty because of the lump in her throat. "I wrote him a letter. He'll never forgive me this time."

"What was it this time?"

"I can't tell you. Maybe it's not even true. Only I was so hurt and humiliated I did not stop to think and it 's too late now. Mama, were you so confused and . . . and birdwitted when you were in love with Papa?"

"No, love, but our situations are very different. I was a mere girl, living with my parents, and had known your father forever. You are a strong-willed young woman, in charge of your own life, used to being looked up to. Had I considered, I should have predicted a stormy courts.h.i.+p."

"Well, it's too late now," repeated Selena miserably. "I am sorry, Mama, to have let my foolishness disturb you. I shall do very well, I promise, for I always expected to be an old maid."

"Nonsense, child." Lady Whitton had more to say, but suddenly Selena could not bear the thought of hearing her words of comfort and rea.s.surance.

She jumped up. "I have work to do, Mama. Life goes on, you see!" With a bright smile, she hurried from the room and went to earth in the library, where she started the same business letter five times before giving up. She ripped her last effort in half and sat doodling on the pieces, wondering if Hugh had read his letter yet and if so, whether he was more angry, or relieved, or blue-devilled. It served him right!

Within the hour, the entire household knew that Miss Selena was not going to marry his lords.h.i.+p after all.

Mr. Hastings was so informed by Dimbury. He hurried his dressing, to the valet's distress, and raced downstairs to take his leave. His escape was foiled by Delia who, dressed in her prettiest winter walking dress of a cerulean blue the precise colour of her eyes, persuaded him that he had time for one final stroll by the river, in spite of the weather.

When the news reached Sir Aubrey, he also donned his finery with unusual alacrity. For the first time he noticed the absence of his hummingbird waistcoat, which he generally saved for special occasions. In its place he chose one with cherry and white stripes. He had had reservations about it since Dimbury pointed out its resemblance to a barber's pole, but it matched to perfection the cherry red of his coat. Besides, cherries were indubitably agricultural, so the colour must please his cousin, he thought. He gazed in the mirror, admiring the Waterfall, in which elaborate style Dimbury had taught him to tie his cravat. Still more he admired his guinea gold locks. Carefully arranging one careless curl at each temple, he descended to dazzle Selena.

Dazzled she was. She had as good as forgotten his existence when he minced into the library and raised his quizzing gla.s.s to study the inkstains on her fingers. In a guilty reflex she hid them under the desk.

"What can I do for you, Cousin?" she asked coldly.

"Fairest Selena, my beloved cousin, I am come to appeal to you one more time. Your eyes have been opened to the falseness of the high n.o.bility, the unthinking arrogance of the aristocracy towards those but a step lower in the social scale. Allow me to console you. Do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage. I shall protect you from the world and make your happiness my only care. Let us be wed, I beg you on bended knee!"

Sinking to the floor, he almost vanished behind the great oak desk.

"You have been practising," said Selena as he reappeared, somewhat discomposed. "That speech was a vast improvement over your previous efforts. Do take a seat and stop hovering!" she added.

With a sulky expression he sat down on the hard chair by the desk.

"Well, will you?" he demanded.

"Will I what?" she asked absently. To her own surprise she was considering the advantages of being married to her cousin. In spite of his gypsy mother he was of respectable birth. He was a fool, and a weak one; whatever his expectations she knew she could rule him with ease. His tastes might be expensive but the farm was doing better every year, she was well beforehand with the world, and she would hold the purse strings. He was good-looking (if she managed to break him of his pa.s.sion for red), t.i.tled, and Milford Manor would remain in Whitton hands. As a married lady, it would be easier in many ways to do business, and however much one despised such conventions it would be more comfortable to be a wife than an old maid.

She looked at him, at his eager face, and avid eyes of Whitton blue. Above all, she knew his motives. He would never cast her into confusion, drive her to distraction with jealousy or fury, because she did not care. Nor would he laugh with her, tease her, thrill her with a touch, but Hugh was gone, whistled down the wind, to be shut out of her mind and heart forever.

"I'll think about it," she said.

He stared at her, mouth open in a witless gape.

"Of course, my own!" he gabbled. "Though naturally impatient for a decision which will decide my fate, I shall await your decision with what patience I can muster. My fate is in your hands, the decision is yours, only the impatience is mine! Or the patience," he added, confused. Seizing her hand he planted a kiss on her knuckles before she could withdraw it.

"Oh do go away, Aubrey!" said Selena.

Obediently he left, backing out of her presence as if she were royalty. Amused, exasperated, confirmed in her belief that the baronet would adapt with ease to life beneath the cat's paw, Selena sat contemplating matrimony for a few moments, then went to see Peter.

She climbed the stairs slowly, feeling tired. Peter rushed into her arms as she entered the nursery, and held her tight.

"Mrs. Tooting telled Finny you're not going to marry Uncle Hugh!" he gasped, anguish in his voice. "Why because, Aunt Sena? Why because won't you?"

She picked him up and sat down, holding him on her lap. He looked up at her, blue eyes full of tears, lips trembling.

"I was mistaken, Peterkin. We shall not suit after all."

"You're not 'staken! Course you'll suit just right, like me and Leo. Please marry him, Aunt Sena?""I'm sorry, love.""Promise you won't marry Uncle Aubrey, 'stead of Uncle Hugh.""I can't promise. I don't know what I'm going to do. You ought to have a papa, especially when you are older."

"But not Uncle Aubrey!" The child sounded desperate. "He's a bad man. I wish my own mama andpapa didn't die!"Selena hugged him. "So do I, sweetheart."Peter pulled away from her. "Is Mr. Hasty going home today?" he asked."Yes," she said, surprised. "I don't believe he has left yet. Do you want to say goodbye to him?""Mayhaps. I want to get down now."She released him. He slipped to the floor and stood facing her, hands folded, face blotched with tears, expression resolute.

"Are you all right now?" she asked. "Remember, I have not yet made up my mind, and I'll think aboutwhat you have said. Don't worry about it, Peter. Everything will turn out all right."She stooped to kiss him and went back to the library, wis.h.i.+ng she believed her own words. She tried to consider dispa.s.sionately the pros and cons of marriage to Aubrey, an unprofitable exercise soon

interrupted by the entrance of her mother.

"Bannister told me Aubrey came out looking smug as the cat that got the cream," she said. "What is he up to now?"

"Bannister has no business reporting to you! It is none of his concern."

"Now Selena, you know very well that all the servants have your best interests at heart."

"They are all excessively inquisitive. Aubrey is up to nothing new. He proposed to me again and I told

him I would consider it."

"You didn't!"

"I did, and I am. The one thing that troubles me is that Peter does not like him, but he needs a father and

he would soon grow accustomed.""The thing that troubles me," said her mother, "is that you do not like him!""I care not a fig for that. It will make life easier, for I shall not feel obliged to take his wishes into account."

"Selena! Pray do not talk in that calculating way! It is not at all like you, and besides being highly unbecoming it . . ." There was a knock at the door. "Bother! Who is it?"

"It is I, my lady." Dimbury stepped into the room, bowing deferentially. He had one arm around Polly's

shoulders, and after one look at the maid's tear-stained face, Lady Whitton sighed and resigned herself

to the interruption.

"Yes, Dimbury? What is it?"

"I fear I may appear impertinent, my lady, but I must ask Miss Whitton whether she has accepted an

offer of marriage from Sir Aubrey."

"Impertinent you are!" snapped Selena. "I must suppose that you are not run mad but have a goodreason for it. Sir Aubrey has offered; I have not yet made up my mind."With a wail, Polly turned and buried her face in the valet's shoulder."There now," he said, patting her hand. "I've a bit saved up after all these years and if my lady throws you out, as I don't doubt she's a right to do but I don't believe she will, well, you come to me and I'll see you all right. Understand? I never wanted a wife," he explained, turning back to the astounded ladies, "but I always did fancy a daughter. I'll be off now, my lady, if you'll excuse me, for there's a deal of packing still to be done. Mind you tell everything now, Polly, there's a good girl."

With another fatherly pat, he detached himself from the weeping maid and left.

Lady Whitton swept forward, put her arms around Polly, and led her to a chair.

"Sit down, my dear," she said gently. "What is the matter?"

"It's Sir Aubrey!" The words burst out, interspersed with racking sobs. "He tell me we'd get married and

go to Jamaica and n.o.body wouldn't know or care I'm not a lady. He said we'd have a grand house andpretty clothes and go to parties and b.a.l.l.s and all. He said he loved me, my lady, and now he's after MissSelena again and me in the family way!"

"You are with child?" asked Lady Whitton in a faint voice. "Oh dear, my poor girl!" She sat down rather

suddenly.

Selena pulled herself together and came round the desk. "Are you quite sure?" she asked searchingly, "and sure it was Sir Aubrey?"