An Unusual Courtship by Katherine Marlowe Page A

said.
    “Mr. Valentine,” said Mr. Everett.
    Percival tensed, hands pausing upon his hat.
    “Will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to Mrs. Peters?” Mr. Everett asked.
    Trapped, Percival’s breath quickened. “No,” he said. “Thank you, I will manage. I could not possibly impose upon you in such a manner.”
    There was a startled silence in response to Percival’s refusal.
    “If you’ll excuse me,” Percival said, putting his still dusty hat upon his head. “Good day to you all.”
    He made his retreat as swiftly as he could manage, and did not look back.

    T wo days and another declined invitation later, and Miss Bolton turned up on his doorstep in person. She was without chaperon while calling on a gentleman in his own home, which Percival found highly unusual, even in Linston.
    The butler indicated that she was waiting in the drawing room, and Percival hurried there, neatly dressed but flustered. “Miss Bolton!”
    “Mr. Valentine,” she said, rising to greet him. “I hope you are well and that I have not inconvenienced you too much by dropping in on you like this.”
    “No, no,” Percival insisted. “That’s quite all right. It’s all… certainly… it is always a pleasure to see you, Miss Bolton.” He cleared his throat at the end of this little speech, and picked uncertainly at his gloves.
    “I am sorry to be so forward, but I must ask you, Mr. Valentine. You have been avoiding us. I would know why.”
    “Avoiding you!” Percival responded. “No, I… I…”
    “I beg of you to be honest with me, Mr. Valentine!” she exclaimed. “You have been avoiding us. Pray tell me why! Has one of our party given you some offence?”
    “No,” Percival said. “No, certainly! It is nothing that any of you have done to me directly.”
    “Indirectly, then! How have we offended?”
    “It is Mr. Everett!” Percival said. “Truly, Miss Bolton, I do not know how you can associate yourself with a man of such—of such… base character!”
    Miss Bolton’s face went in rapid succession through shock, indignation, and determined fury. “Have you personally witnessed anything which should make you doubt Mr. Everett’s character?”
    Percival coloured and felt instantly foolish. “Not personally, no, but—”
    “Then am I to understand that you have cut us on account of some pernicious gossip?”
    That made Percival’s judgement and determination on the topic sound less honourable. He fidgeted and blustered. “I hardly judged it to be gossip , on account of how it was a first-hand reporting of Mr. Everett’s shocking—”
    “From Miss Martin, I warrant,” Miss Bolton said, with wry disapproval.
    Percival deflated, now very uncertain of his stance on the matter. “Yes. From Miss Martin.”
    “I don’t suppose you’ll listen to Mr. Everett himself, and he would indeed be quite hesitant to speak ill of Miss Martin, even now, but I hope you will consider hearing my side of the story, having been present at the event which has so defamed Mr. Everett’s good character?”
    “Yes,” Percival said, sighing in surrender. The version of events he had encountered in London had been so broadly unanimous that he had come to assume it was the only one. “Will you sit, Miss Bolton?” he asked, indicating a chair and hoping that she would sit so that he could sit.
    She did.
    “Miss Martin was a friend of mine,” she began, folding her hands in her lap as she related her story. “I was aware that she was headstrong and could be petty, but she was outwardly sweet and charming at all times, so I did not suspect a deeper flaw in her character. I further did not expect that Mr. Everett would be charmed by her. I suppose that since they were both headstrong people, there was some sympathy of character, and Mr. Everett found her to be appealingly sweet and gentle, so he made her an offer.
    “Once they were engaged, Miss Martin spent quite a bit of time in our company—as you have