Alissa Baxter by The Dashing Debutante Page B

granddaughter’s eyes. “Oh you are roasting me, Alexandra! What an infuriating girl you are!” This was said sternly, but the lurking smile in Lady Beauchamp’s eyes and her deep chuckle belied her stringent words, and she was smiling as she continued, “However my dear, funning aside, you must have a care to what you say in London. No gentleman likes the idea of a woman being more knowledgeable than he. When your poor mother died, I suggested to your papa that he send you off to a select Ladies Seminary in Bath, but he was totally set against the idea. He said the things that such an institution would teach, would be utterly useless to you. And when you professed an interest in sharing your brother’s lessons he was overjoyed. But, your father was a rather eccentric man, my dear, and a notable exception to the rule. Most men would not be pleased to know that you are in all probability as well educated, or even better educated than they are themselves. A bookish female is looked at askance in Polite Society, my love. Therefore, you must have a care to what you say, Alexandra. The male ego is a very fragile thing, and you will not be easily forgiven if you contrive to shatter it, no matter how beautiful you are!” Lady Beauchamp finished forcefully.
    Alexandra wrinkled her nose in distaste as she contemplated what her grandmother had said. Because John had so often been ill as a boy, Sir Henry had decided against sending his son to Eton and had hired a succession of tutors to educate him at home instead. From a very young age, Alexandra had studied alongside her brother. She had excelled at her lessons, and consequently found it extremely irksome when the gentlemen of her acquaintance blindly assumed that, because she was a woman, she lacked knowledge in the traditionally male-dominated fields of learning. Yet, Alexandra saw the logic in what her grandmother had said, and realised that it would be prudent to follow that wise lady’s advice. So, with a grimace, she said in a resigned voice, “I shall have a care to my conversation, Grandmama, and try not to sound too bookish. In fact,” she continued magnanimously, “I shall only bring to the fore my education if someone I dislike is plaguing me. I imagine that one or two well timed comments about Plato’s or Socrates’ philosophy on life, should send the most tiresomely arduous suitor running for cover!”
    “My dear, you would not!” Lady Beauchamp exclaimed in horror.
    “But, Grandmama, it is a most effective ploy,” Alexandra said innocently. “Last year, when Alfred Hadley was making a nuisance of himself by constantly showing up on our doorstep, and showering me with bouquets, and his even more flowery compliments, I started spouting on about the great philosophers. I have never seen a man turn tail as quickly as he did when I asked him to discuss the merits of the different philosophers’ works with me. He has not returned to see me since,” Alexandra finished, smiling reflectively.
    “Well, do not play your tricks in London, my love,” Lady Beauchamp said faintly. She had nightmarish visions of her granddaughter driving all suitors away, by philosophising about the meaning of life. Shuddering at that dreadful thought, Lady Beauchamp said urgently, “Promise me that you will not do so, dearest.”
    Alexandra, realising that her grandmother was in earnest, meekly promised to guard her mouth. “And I shall not speak about my interest in archaeology, either, Grandmama,” she said expansively.
    “Certainly not, my dear. Certainly not,” Lady Beauchamp said in a failing voice. Closing her eyes, she tried to regain her composure. If her hair had not already been white, she was sure that her tiresome grandchild would have succeeded in changing its colour by now! Opening her eyes again, she looked in a dazed way at Alexandra who had her head on one side and was regarding her Grandmother in a concerned fashion.
    “Are you quite all right, Grandmama?”