The True Darcy Spirit. Elizabeth Aston

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СКАЧАТЬ is giving me some very helpful advice, Mama.”

      Mrs. Partington gave a faint smile. “He is very kind, but you must not presume upon his kindness. He is no Herr Winter, not a drawing master, but an accomplished artist, he is not to be wasting his time on your little drawings and sketches.”

      “Thank you, Mama,” said Cassandra, whisking herself away before she should say something she would regret.

      Mr. Partington also disapproved of the time Cassandra spent with Mr. Lisser, and told his wife so. “She is putting herself forward, it is always so. She talks to him as though she were an equal, another artist; very unbecoming behaviour in a young girl. And she is too often alone with him. While he has too much sense to take advantage, word will get around, tongues will wag. It is not appropriate for a Miss Darcy to be closeted for hours on end with a young man, however much their talk is of grounds and colours and form.”

      “I have already mentioned the matter to her, my dear,” said Mrs. Partington in soothing tones.

      So Cassandra had to snatch moments with Henry Lisser at such times as her mother was out visiting, and Mr. Partington was out inspecting a pig or giving instructions for his early wheat.

      “I should like to paint Mr. Partington in his farmer’s smock,” said Mr. Lisser, showing Cassandra a sketch he had made without Mr. Partington’s knowledge. “He seems more at home out on the land than he does in the drawing room in his fine clothes. No, don’t frown, I am not speaking ill of your stepfather, I admire him for it. My father, also, is a keen farmer.” Again, that reserved look. Did he feel that his origins were low, that it was a disgrace to be the son of a farmer? Certainly, there was no hint of the clodpole about Mr. Lisser, his manners were polished and he was a man at ease in his company.

      Although less so in Belle’s company; as the days passed, Cassandra noticed that he was stiff and uncomfortable when Belle was with them, and that there was a warmth in his eyes when he looked at her frivolous cousin that suggested his feelings for her might be deepening beyond mere flirtation.

      There was nothing she could say, she could not advise a man several years her senior, a guest, a virtual stranger. But she did drop a hint as to the reason why Belle was at Rosings. He laughed, genuinely amused. “Miss Belle is of a type, but she is good-hearted beneath the frippery, I believe.”

      Cassandra couldn’t agree with him, she thought Belle entirely heartless, and especially so to lead on a man in Henry Lisser’s position; it could bring nothing but unhappiness to him, and even trouble in his professional life. Why could not Belle be more careful what she was about?

      It irked her slightly that the eyes and suspicions of her parents and even her governess were directed at her. She liked and admired Mr. Lisser, she was anxious to learn all she could from him, but as a man, he did not interest her. She had not yet met a man who did.

      She remonstrated with Belle, who gave a familiar toss of her head, and pouted, and said that Cassandra knew nothing about it, and she was not flirting with Mr. Lisser, nor had he captured her heart, the idea was absurd.

      “I am very sure that is the case,” Cassandra said. “For I know how attached you are to your Ferdie.”

      “Ferdie?” said Belle. “Oh, him. Yes, of course.”

      “I do believe she has forgotten him,” Cassandra said to Emily on her next visit to Croscombe House. “She is the most cold-hearted, thoughtless girl I ever met.”

      “I do not think she is heartless, exactly,” said Emily. “I think she likes to flirt, and men take it more seriously than she intends, and then she likes the excitement and drama of a supposed attachment that she knows will not meet with her family’s approval, however worthy the man, because she is so young. One day, she will find a man she can give her heart to, and then she will change, you will see, it will all be different.”

      Cassandra supposed that on matters of the heart, Emily knew much better than she, but she still wished that Belle were not at Rosings just now.

      The picture was going on excellently, Mr. and Mrs. Partington were very pleased, and busy discussing where it might hang. Not in the gallery, that was too out of the way, no one ever went there, except the children in wet weather, when they slid up and down on the polished floor and played skittles. The great drawing room would be the best place, so fresh hangings and new wallpaper would be required. Samples of fabric and wall coverings were ordered down from London, and Cassandra’s mama became almost animated as she occupied herself with choosing and matching and planning.

      Mr. Partington was out of doors most of the day, as the weather continued fine, and almost grudged the time required for his sittings. However, the picture was nearly done, it would soon be finished, would be taken to London for varnishing and framing, and then Mr. Lisser would be gone.

      Belle grew melancholy at the prospect, and Cassandra began to suspect that Mr. Lisser was taking longer than necessary to finish his work. Poor deluded man; now, although she had rejoiced in his being in the house for so many hours each day, she longed for him to be gone, before Belle forgot herself, and found herself once again in disgrace.

      It was not to be. It was Cassandra who found herself in disgrace, in deep and unjustified disgrace.

      “Mrs. Lawton saw you, do not deny it,” her mother said, her voice tearful.

      Mr. Partington was red with anger. “To be embracing a man, a guest in the house, and, I may point out, a man very much your social inferior, what were you about? If you had no thought for your own reputation, could you not consider in how difficult a situation you placed Mr. Lisser?”

      “Shame on you for that,” cried her mother. “You have led him on.”

      “Indeed you must have, for he is too sensible a man to behave in this way otherwise. I am outraged that such a thing should happen in my house,” announced Mr. Partington. “You will go to your room and stay there until I consider what is to be done with you.”

      Why, Cassandra asked herself, had she not protested, defended herself, said at once that she had not lingered in the shrubbery with Mr. Lisser, no, nor any man?

      Partly because she was so shocked at her parents’ at once jumping to the conclusion that if any young lady were dallying with a young man, then it must be Cassandra. They had immediately blamed her, without seeking any further for the truth, or even considering that Belle, who, after all, had a history of such a kind of behaviour, might be the young lady in Mr. Lisser’s arms.

      Nor did they seem inclined to hold Mr. Lisser himself at fault: They assumed he had been led on, had taken Cassandra’s free and easy ways for something quite else, and had supposed that it must arise from careless parents, who were not troubled to restrain and guide their daughter into a proper way of behaving.

      She also felt a sisterly solidarity that meant she was reluctant to accuse Belle, who was, after all, already in trouble with her family. And she had an inkling that if she were the guilty party, Mr. Lisser would not be held so much at fault, whereas if he had been embracing Belle, then the guilt would be entirely his.

      She wasn’t quite sure why this should be, but it was. So she held her chin high and said nothing as the tide of Mr. Partington’s wrath flowed over her. Once out of his presence, though, she went upstairs to her own chamber so swiftly that at the end she was positively running, anxious to reach the privacy of her room before giving way to the rage that threatened to overcome her.

      She taxed Belle СКАЧАТЬ