Of course, it might not be true; he would be better able to judge when he had seen them together again. He hoped Miss Trent would be present at Mrs Underhill’s turtle-dinner: it seemed likely that she would be; and if she was he had every intention of making himself very agreeable to her. If there was the least chance of her becoming Waldo’s wife, it was a matter of the highest importance to stand well with her. Really, it was very fortunate that he had come to Yorkshire!

Miss Trent was present at the dinner, but had she been able to do so without disarranging Mrs Underhill’s carefully planned table she would have excused herself. She did indeed venture to suggest that since Charlotte was suffering from severe toothache, and would make no appearance in the drawing-room, it would be better if she remained upstairs with her, but Mrs Underhill would not hear of it. Where she demanded, was she to find a lady to take Miss Trent’s place?

“I thought, perhaps, since the Micklebys are coming, ma’am, you might invite the elder Miss Mickleby,” suggested Ancilla, but without conviction.

“Don’t talk so silly!” begged Mrs Underhill. “As though you didn’t know as well as I do that Mrs Mickleby takes an affront into her head if anyone invites one of those dratted girls without t’other! Yes, and so she would if I was to invite either of them at the last minute, like this is, and I can’t say I blame her, for a very poor compliment that would be!”

So Miss Trent submitted, and no one could have supposed, observing her cold composure, that she was suffering from acute embarrassment. To a proud woman of her upbringing the imputation of setting her cap at the Nonesuch was so abhorrent that she was nauseated every time she thought of it. Like some vulgar, scheming creature, without delicacy or conduct, throwing out her every lure to snare a husband! Worse!—a husband so wealthy and so distinguished as to be considered one of the biggest prizes to be won! And she the penniless daughter of an officer in a marching regiment! She could not accuse herself of having thrown out lures, but when she looked back over the past month it was upon a vista of rides with the Nonesuch, evenings spent in his company, strolling walks with him in the gardens of Staples, tête-à-tête, with him, jokes shared with him: all culminating in that disastrous ball, which she ought never to have attended. How indiscreet she had been! It must have appeared to everyone that she had gone to the ball, breaking her own rule, for no other purpose than to dance with the Nonesuch, and the dreadful truth was that she had. And who, seeing her waltz with him twice, and go in to supper on his arm, and allow him to fetch her shawl, would believe that she had committed these imprudencies unthinkingly, because she loved him, and had been too happy in his company to remember the delicacy of her situation—or even common propriety? She might as well have tied her garter in public!

It was a severe ordeal to be obliged to appear at Mrs Underhill’s dinner-party, knowing that Mrs Mickleby’s sharp eyes would be watching her: perhaps, even, Mrs Chartley’s? She chose from her slender wardrobe the most modest and sober-hued of her few evening-dresses, and set a cap over her tightly braided locks, to which Mrs Underhill took instant exception, exclaiming: “Whatever made you put on a cap, as if you was an old maid of forty? For goodness’ sake, go and take it off! There’ll be time enough for you to wear caps when you’re married!”

“I have no expectation of being married, ma’am, and you know it is customary for a gover—”

“No, and nor you will be if you don’t prettify yourself a bit!” interrupted Mrs Underhill tartly. “If you aren’t wearing that old, brown dress, too, which is enough to give anyone the dismals! I declare you’re as provoking as Tiffany, Miss Trent!”

So Miss Trent went away to remove the offending cap, but she did not change her dress, or come downstairs again until the guests had all arrived, when she slipped unobtrusively, into the drawing-room, responding to greetings with smiles and slight curtsies, and sitting down in a chair as far removed from Sir Waldo as was possible.

She was seated at dinner between the Squire and the Rector, and with these two uncritical friends she was able to converse as easily as usual. It was more difficult in the drawing-room, before the gentlemen joined the ladies. Mrs Mickleby talked of nothing but the waltzing-ball, and contrived, with her thin smile, to plant quite a number of tiny daggers in Miss Trent’s quivering flesh. Miss Trent met smile with smile, and replied with a calm civility which made Mrs Mickleby’s eyes snap angrily. Then Mrs Chartley, taking advantage of a brief pause in these hostilities, moved her seat to one beside Ancilla’s, and said: “I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Miss Trent. I have been meaning for weeks to ask you if you can recall the details of that way of pickling mushrooms which you once described to me, but whenever I see you I remember about it only when we have parted!”

Ancilla could not but be grateful for the kindness that prompted this intervention, but it brought the colour to her cheeks as Mrs Mickleby’s barbs had not. She promised to write down the recipe, and bring it to the Rectory; and wished very much that she could retire to the schoolroom before the gentlemen came in. It was impossible, however: Mrs Underhill expected her to pour out tea later in the evening.

A diversion (but a most unwelcome one) was created by Tiffany, who suddenly exclaimed: “Oh, I have had a famous notion! Do let us play Jackstraws again!”

Since she had broken in not only on what Patience was saying to her, but on what Mrs Mickleby was saying to Mrs Underhill, this lapse from good manners made Miss Trent feel ready to sink, knowing that Mrs Mickleby would set the blame at her door. Worse was to come.

“I was hoping Miss Chartley would give us the pleasure of hearing her sing,” said Mrs Underhill. “I’ll be bound that’s what we should all like best, such a pretty voice as you have, my dear!”

“Oh, no! Jackstraws!”

“Tiffany,” said Miss Trent, in a quiet but compelling voice.

The brilliant eyes turned towards her questioningly; she met them with a steady gaze; and Tiffany went into a trill of laughter. “Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean to be uncivil! Patience knows I didn’t, don’t you, Patience?”

“Of course I do!” replied Patience instantly. “I think it would be much more amusing to play Jackstraws. But Miss Trent will beat us all to flinders—even Sir Waldo! If you and he engage in another duel, ma’am, I shan’t bet against you this time!”

Miss Trent could only be thankful that at that moment the door opened, and the gentlemen came in. She was able to move away from the group in the middle of the room on the pretext of desiring one of the footmen to open the pianoforte and to light the candles in its brackets, and she remained beside the instrument, looking through a pile of music. After a minute or two she was joined by Laurence, who came up to her, and said very politely: “Can I be of assistance, ma’am? Allow me to lift that for you!”

“Thank you: if you would put it on that table, so that the instrument may be opened—?”

He did so, and then said, with a winning smile: “You must let me tell you how delighted I am to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, ma’am. With one member of your family I’m already acquainted: I believe Bernard Trent is your cousin, is he not?”

Miss Trent inclined her head. It was not encouraging, but Laurence persevered. “A first-rate man! The best of good company! We are quite old friends, he and I.”

“Indeed!” said Miss Trent.

He was not unnaturally daunted, for her tone was arctic, and the look in her eyes contemptuous. He wondered what the devil was the matter with her, and felt aggrieved. Anyone would have supposed that she would have been glad to meet someone who knew her cousin, but instead she had snubbed him! Pretty well for a governess! he thought indignantly.

She realized that she had spoken curtly, and added, with a slight smile: “I daresay you are better acquainted with him than I am, sir. He has never come very much in my way.”

She turned away, to adjust one of the candles, and as she did so looked up, to find that Sir Waldo was standing within easy earshot. Her eyes met his, and saw that they were alight with amusement, and involuntarily she smiled. It was only for an instant, but Laurence caught the exchange of looks, and was so much pleased to find his suspicion confirmed that he forgot his indignation. If ever two people were head over ears in love! he thought, and tactfully moved away.

Sir Waldo strolled up to the pianoforte, and picked up the snuffers. As he trimmed one of the candlesticks he murmured: “He meant well, you know! Of course, I ought to have warned him.”

“I’m afraid I was uncivil,” she owned.

“No, no, merely quelling!” he assured her.

She could not help laughing, but she was aware of Mrs Mickleby’s eyes upon her, and said: “That was very bad! Excuse me—I must speak with Miss Chartley!”

She walked away immediately, and contrived to remain at a distance from him until the tea-tray was brought in. She was ably assisted by Mrs Mickleby, who kept him at her side, and maintained a flow of vivacious small-talk until Patience had been persuaded to sing. After that, Tiffany renewed her demand that they should play at Jackstraws, which enabled Miss Trent to retire into the back drawing-room, where she became busy, finding the straws, and settling the four youngest members of the party round the table. Sir Waldo made no attempt to follow her; but when she was obliged to return to the front drawing-room, to dispense tea, he came up to the table to receive his cup from her, and asked her quietly if he had offended her.