from what I have seen of your present behaviour, I consider that you would be quite unworthy of my friendship.’
Louisa goggled at him. He sounded like someone out of a Victorian novel, only worse. She said briskly, ‘Oh, well, that settles that, doesn’t it? Will you stay for coffee?’
It was entirely in character that he should agree. Anyone else—any man—other than Percy would have made some excuse and cut short the evening. But not Percy. His coffee, apparently, was more important to him than any awkwardness she might be feeling.
‘Well, if you are going to stay, sit down,’ she begged. ‘Isn’t the weather glorious? I love June, don’t you? Not too hot and the garden beginning to look lovely—if you have a garden.’
Percy sat, arranging his trousers just so, in order that the creases wouldn’t be spoilt. ‘You have no need to make conversation, Louisa. I am deeply hurt, and trivial talk is hardly going to assuage that.’
Only Percy could talk like that. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Perhaps because she had known him for so long.
She said flippantly, ‘I thought it was the girl who felt hurt.’
He gave her a look. ‘Only you, Louisa …’
He was interrupted by Mrs Howarth’s entry, with Biddy behind her carrying the coffee tray.
‘You’ve had your little talk?’ she asked. ‘Always so nice to clear the air.’
‘Oh, we’ve done that,’ said Louisa promptly. ‘I’ve finally persuaded Percy that I won’t do for his wife.’
Mrs Howarth gave a little trill of laughter. ‘Oh, darling, isn’t it time that you stopped being hard to get? Percy has had the patience of a saint …’
Louisa took the tray from Biddy and set it down on the small table beside her stepmother’s chair. ‘Felicity, you’ve been reading too many old-fashioned novels. I’m not a shrinking damsel of seventeen, you know.’ She looked at Percy. ‘I expect that’s the reason that I don’t want to marry you, Percy. I’m too old for you, and I don’t know how to shrink!’
‘I don’t understand you, Louisa. Such flippancy about a solemn thing such as marriage.’ He held out his cup for more coffee. ‘I find the whole conversation distasteful.’
‘You do? So do I, but I’m glad we’ve had it. I thought I knew you very well, but not well enough, it seems. Now I do.’
Mrs Howarth spoke sharply. ‘Louisa, how can you be so unkind to Percy? Really, I’m quite shocked and upset.’
‘Well, I can’t think why,’ said Louisa sensibly. ‘I’ve told you that I have no wish to marry Percy. And I’ve told him a dozen times.’
Percy got to his feet. ‘It is better that I do go, I think.’ He managed to sound sad and yet at the same time maintained what Louisa took to be a stiff upper lip.
‘Never mind, Percy. You’re well rid of me, you know.’ She offered a hand and he took it reluctantly and heaved a sigh.
‘I shall always have happy memories of you, Louisa—until today, of course.’
He took a sorrowful leave of Mrs Howarth then, and Louisa went to the front door with him. She should be feeling guilty, she supposed, but what she felt was a sense of freedom.
When she went back to the drawing room her stepmother said angrily, ‘You’re a fool, Louisa. You’re not a young girl any more; you can’t afford to be choosy.’
‘Yes, I can. I’ve a nice job, and on my next birthday I get grandmother’s money that she left me. I can be independent for as long as I wish.’ She paused. ‘Tell me, Felicity, did Percy know about that—my legacy?’
Mrs Howarth looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, you know how things slip out …’
‘It would have been useful to him, wouldn’t it? Happy young bride hands husband a nice lump sum so that he can shoot ahead in his career. Or was he going to persuade me to make some of it over to you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Louisa. I have been left very comfortably off by your father.’
‘You’re overdrawn at the bank. You forget, you told me to open the post for you the other morning. There was a letter from the bank manager …’
‘You had no right.’
‘No, I know that. I didn’t read it deliberately; the letter was folded in such a way that I couldn’t help but read it as I took it out of the envelope.’
Mrs Howarth said in a wheedling voice, ‘Louisa, dear, it’s only temporary. If you could let me have some money? I’ll pay you back.’
‘Have you paid Biddy?’
‘Oh, she doesn’t mind waiting. She hasn’t anything to spend her money on, anyway.’
‘How many weeks do you owe her?’
‘A couple—well, three, I suppose.’
‘I’ll pay Biddy’s wages for three weeks. I dare say you can borrow whatever you want from one of your friends.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—I play bridge with most of them, and how could I ask them here for lunch?’
‘Then don’t ask them,’ said Louisa. ‘Try Percy. I’m going to see Biddy, then I’m going to bed.’
Biddy was tidying the kitchen before going to bed. Her eyes brightened at the sight of the notes Louisa held out to her.
‘Well, now, Miss Louisa, the money will be very welcome—got ter think of me old age, ‘aven’t I?’
‘Of course, Biddy. And if you don’t get your wages regularly, will you let me know and I’ll remind Mrs Howarth?’
Louisa went to bed then, but not to sleep at once. She sat by the open window of the pretty room and thought about her future. It seemed obvious to her that Felicity would be better off without her—she might marry again, for she was still pretty and amusing. It would be best if she found a room, or a tiny flat somewhere in the city not too far from Sir James’s rooms.
She would miss the comfortable life she led now, but that didn’t worry her particularly. Indeed, she had always wished to live independently but her stepmother had begged her to stay. She could see that if she stayed now she would be in a rut from which there would be no escape. A place of my own, thought Louisa with satisfaction, and when I get Granny’s money I’ll find a flat, somewhere near the cathedral.
She settled down to sleep then, her mind made up. Of course, there would be difficulties with Felicity, although probably she would be relieved not to have Louisa around the house. Louisa had a little money saved, and the money she currently paid Felicity each week would go towards the rent of rooms. A pity she had no one to advise her. Dr Gifford, for instance. She came wide awake at the thought. He was the very last person she would wish to receive advice from!
Mrs Howarth sulked for several days and gave vent to her annoyance
