youngest daughter. It’ll be a grand wedding.’
‘Will she like being a GP’s wife?’ asked Louisa.
‘If she loves him then she will,’ declared Mrs Grant.
Not an easy man to love, reflected Louisa, and began to tidy up before going back to her desk.
When she got home again that evening she found Biddy on her feet once more, looking very much the worse for wear but nonetheless preparing dinner.
‘Your Mr Witherspoon’s coming,’ she told Louisa. ‘So the missus told me to do something special.’
‘He’s not mine,’ said Louisa crossly. ‘And why must he have something special?’
‘Dunno, Miss Louisa. The missus is ‘aving a rest; tired out after the ‘airdresser’s.’
Biddy spoke without rancour. Mrs Howarth was no longer young, but she was still very attractive, even beautiful when she had her make-up on and her hair freshly dressed. Louisa agreed cheerfully; she got on well enough with her stepmother although there was no affection between them. Felicity was selfish and lazy and extravagant, but she was easygoing, too, and good company, and she could be very appealing, with her charming smile and her look of helplessness. And she was small and slender so that Louisa always felt at a disadvantage—overlarge and clumsy, conscious of her generously built person.
It was a nuisance that Percy would be coming to dinner. He had begun to take it for granted that he was welcome whenever he chose to invite himself.
She had known him for some years, and really, she had to admit, there was nothing wrong with him. A young lawyer with a secure future, he was a bit on the short side but not bad-looking and an agreeable companion. But not for life—in ten years he would be pompous and, she suspected, mean with money. But her stepmother approved of him, and Louisa, for the sake of peace, had never told her that Percy had proposed several times and she had refused him. Not that that stopped him …
As she changed into a dress and piled her hair she decided that if he proposed again she would make him understand once and for all that she wouldn’t marry him. She had never encouraged him, indeed she had discouraged him as nicely as possible without actually being rude. And a lot of good that had done …
Her stepmother was in the drawing room, leafing through a magazine. As usual she was beautifully dressed, her blonde hair expertly tinted, her face exquisitely made up. She looked up as Louisa went in.
‘Hello, darling. Had a busy day? Why are you wearing that dull dress? It makes you look positively elderly. Whatever will Percy think?’
Louisa went to the window and opened it. It overlooked a small garden at the back of the house, and beyond that there was a splendid view of the cathedral spire. She said flatly, ‘I don’t dress to please Percy.’
She turned to look at her stepmother. ‘Felicity, I don’t intend to marry him, you know. He takes it for granted and so do you, and I’ve tried to be polite about it …’
‘But, darling, he’s so safe, and you would never have to worry about anything.’
‘I don’t want to be safe. I don’t love him.’
‘There are many things more important than love,’ said Mrs Howarth sharply. ‘Security and a nice house, holidays and decent clothes.’
‘Is that why you married Father?’ asked Louisa.
‘I was very fond of your father,’ said Mrs Howarth a bit too quickly. ‘And, of course, before he lost that money we had a very pleasant home and I lacked for nothing.’ She added wistfully, ‘It’s hard to live as I do now. Genteel poverty, I believe it is called.’
Louisa didn’t reply. Her stepmother lived in some comfort and grudged herself nothing. She made no bones about accepting a generous slice of Louisa’s salary for, as she pointed out in a reasonable voice, Louisa enjoyed living in the same comfort in a pleasant house, having Biddy to see to the running of it and eating the good food provided. The fact that Louisa did quite a lot of the housework, helped with the cooking and quite often did the shopping as well were facts which escaped her attention.
Louisa had asked her once how she would manage if she were to marry, and Mrs Howarth had said airily, ‘Oh, my dear, I shall be quite all right; Percy will make sure of that.’
Watching him now, coming into the room, Louisa remembered that. He was still in his thirties, but already staid and with a well-nourished look which she reflected would turn into a portly middle age. He was quite good-looking and very correct in his dress, and she knew that she could never marry him. He wasn’t her kind of man. Her kind of man was utterly different. A sudden memory of Dr Gifford took her by surprise and she blushed faintly, which was unfortunate as Percy took it as a compliment for his appearance.
He had brought flowers with him and a bottle of wine, which he offered with a smug smile, confident of his thoughtfulness and their gratitude.
He kissed the cheek Mrs Howarth offered and crossed the room to where Louisa was standing by the window. ‘Hello, old lady—that’s a charming dress, and you’re as beautiful as ever.’
Old lady, indeed! She turned her cheek so that his kiss barely brushed it, and took the carnations he offered. She said, ‘Thank you for the flowers, Percy,’ and then added, ‘I’ll go and see if Biddy wants any help.’
When she had gone, Mrs Howarth said placatingly, ‘She’s shy, you know. I’ll leave you together after dinner.’ They smiled at each other, and as Louisa came back into the room they began to discuss the weather.
Biddy, still with something of a headache, had done her best, but the soup was too salty, the lamb chops slightly charred and the pudding bore a strong resemblance to a deep-frozen dessert. Percy, who prided himself on being a gourmet, ate with an air of martyred distaste while he enlarged at some length upon the political situation.
Louisa, brought up by an old-fashioned nanny, assumed her politely listening face and said, ‘Really?’ or ‘Is that so?’ at intervals, which was all that Percy required; the sound of his own voice was sufficient for him.
Louisa, munching petits pois which had been over-cooked, allowed her thoughts to wander. Where did Dr Gifford live? she wondered. She didn’t like him, she reminded herself, but he looked interesting.
She caught Percy’s eye and made the mistake of smiling at him, and her stepmother said at once, ‘We’ll have coffee in the drawing room. I’ll go and tell Biddy.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Louisa, hopeful of a few minutes’ respite from Percy’s ardent gaze.
‘No, no, dear. Take Percy along to the drawing room and I’ll join you in a moment.’
The drawing room was a pleasant place, and the very last of the sun cast mellow shadows over its furniture. Louisa went to open another window and said over her shoulder, ‘Sit down, do, Percy.’
But he had come to stand behind her, much too close for her liking.
‘My dear girl, you have no idea how I have been longing to get you on your own. I’ve given you plenty of time to make up your mind, although I’m sure that you have done so already—after all, I’m not such a bad catch!’ He laughed at his
