about!’
‘Mr Judd was not struck by lightning,’ said Isabella flatly. ‘He was playing cards in the Green Man yesterday.’
‘What? Oh, why are we wasting time? Betty! Betty! Come and see to your mistress and get a good gown on. You are to go to Mannerling with Miss Isabella!’
Isabella sat in the Mannerling carriage an hour later, scented and pomaded and wearing a heavy gold silk dinner gown. Betty covertly watched Isabella’s sad face and wondered not for the first time why miss did not settle for the handsome viscount instead of wasting time with such a dreadful man as Mr Judd.
The weather had changed again, to match Isabella’s mood. Rain pattered on the roof of the carriage, and as they turned in at the gates of Mannerling, the wind rose in a great gust which sounded like an enormous sigh.
Isabella wondered if Mrs Judd disapproved of her or if that lady had a perpetually sour air and expression. Conversation during dinner was extremely stilted. Mrs Judd complained about the size of Mannerling and the uppitiness of the servants. Mr Judd ate great quantities of food and occasionally broke off from eating to pay Isabella a heavy compliment which did not please her. She wished he would not speak with his mouth full or declare that the best way to eat peas was with a knife smeared in butter, and only man-milliners chased them around the plate with a two-pronged fork.
I am going to marry this man, thought Isabella bleakly, and therefore this will be just the first of many such evenings. But Mrs Judd would not stay in residence, and surely he would let her family move back with her.
After dinner, in the drawing room, Mr Judd asked her to play something on the pianoforte. Isabella obediently sat down to play, her fingers rippling over the keys, her back to the room, dreaming that when she finished playing and turned round, all would be as it had once been. But when she finally finished playing and turned around, it was to find that both Mr Judd and his mother were sprawled in their chairs, fast asleep.
She longed to escape. All she had to do was to summon Betty and the carriage, slip out quietly and go home. But, in a way, to do that would be to give up the battle, to admit to herself that she did not want to marry Mr Judd, and that would mean giving up any hope of Mannerling, Mannerling which was changing daily as Mr Judd brought in more ugly furniture and paintings and planned to desecrate the grounds.
She turned back to the keys and began to play a noisy piece with many crashing chords, so that when she finally finished and turned back, both were awake.
‘Jolly good,’ said Mr Judd, stifling a yawn.
‘I prefer pretty ballads myself,’ said Mrs Judd. ‘Miss Stoppard, now, does play some pretty tunes.’
‘You are tired and it is late,’ said Isabella. ‘I thank you for a most pleasant evening.’
When a footman announced the carriage had been brought round, Isabella was accompanied down the stairs and outside by Mr Judd. He said to Betty, ‘Get in the carriage. Your mistress will follow in a few moments.’
He turned and smiled down at Isabella with his foxy smile. ‘I’m tired o’ the single life. Got an important announcement to make at the ball, so look your finest.’
Isabella blushed modestly and looked down. He tilted her face up and gave her a quick hard kiss on the lips. ‘So no more jauntering about the countryside with Fitzpatrick, hey?’
‘As you wish,’ said Isabella, the picture of meek womanhood.
‘Good girl. Be calling soon.’
He handed Isabella into the carriage. She smiled at him sweetly. The coachman cracked his whip and the carriage rolled off.
Now all Isabella felt was sweet triumph. She had done it, by God! She was no longer a failure. Then she remembered promising to ride out with the viscount in two days’ time. Well, Barry would need to go over to Perival and say she was indisposed.
When she told her family her news, she basked in their admiration. Lady
‘Mr Judd was not struck by lightning,’ said Isabella flatly. ‘He was playing cards in the Green Man yesterday.’
‘What? Oh, why are we wasting time? Betty! Betty! Come and see to your mistress and get a good gown on. You are to go to Mannerling with Miss Isabella!’
Isabella sat in the Mannerling carriage an hour later, scented and pomaded and wearing a heavy gold silk dinner gown. Betty covertly watched Isabella’s sad face and wondered not for the first time why miss did not settle for the handsome viscount instead of wasting time with such a dreadful man as Mr Judd.
The weather had changed again, to match Isabella’s mood. Rain pattered on the roof of the carriage, and as they turned in at the gates of Mannerling, the wind rose in a great gust which sounded like an enormous sigh.
Isabella wondered if Mrs Judd disapproved of her or if that lady had a perpetually sour air and expression. Conversation during dinner was extremely stilted. Mrs Judd complained about the size of Mannerling and the uppitiness of the servants. Mr Judd ate great quantities of food and occasionally broke off from eating to pay Isabella a heavy compliment which did not please her. She wished he would not speak with his mouth full or declare that the best way to eat peas was with a knife smeared in butter, and only man-milliners chased them around the plate with a two-pronged fork.
I am going to marry this man, thought Isabella bleakly, and therefore this will be just the first of many such evenings. But Mrs Judd would not stay in residence, and surely he would let her family move back with her.
After dinner, in the drawing room, Mr Judd asked her to play something on the pianoforte. Isabella obediently sat down to play, her fingers rippling over the keys, her back to the room, dreaming that when she finished playing and turned round, all would be as it had once been. But when she finally finished playing and turned around, it was to find that both Mr Judd and his mother were sprawled in their chairs, fast asleep.
She longed to escape. All she had to do was to summon Betty and the carriage, slip out quietly and go home. But, in a way, to do that would be to give up the battle, to admit to herself that she did not want to marry Mr Judd, and that would mean giving up any hope of Mannerling, Mannerling which was changing daily as Mr Judd brought in more ugly furniture and paintings and planned to desecrate the grounds.
She turned back to the keys and began to play a noisy piece with many crashing chords, so that when she finally finished and turned back, both were awake.
‘Jolly good,’ said Mr Judd, stifling a yawn.
‘I prefer pretty ballads myself,’ said Mrs Judd. ‘Miss Stoppard, now, does play some pretty tunes.’
‘You are tired and it is late,’ said Isabella. ‘I thank you for a most pleasant evening.’
When a footman announced the carriage had been brought round, Isabella was accompanied down the stairs and outside by Mr Judd. He said to Betty, ‘Get in the carriage. Your mistress will follow in a few moments.’
He turned and smiled down at Isabella with his foxy smile. ‘I’m tired o’ the single life. Got an important announcement to make at the ball, so look your finest.’
Isabella blushed modestly and looked down. He tilted her face up and gave her a quick hard kiss on the lips. ‘So no more jauntering about the countryside with Fitzpatrick, hey?’
‘As you wish,’ said Isabella, the picture of meek womanhood.
‘Good girl. Be calling soon.’
He handed Isabella into the carriage. She smiled at him sweetly. The coachman cracked his whip and the carriage rolled off.
Now all Isabella felt was sweet triumph. She had done it, by God! She was no longer a failure. Then she remembered promising to ride out with the viscount in two days’ time. Well, Barry would need to go over to Perival and say she was indisposed.
When she told her family her news, she basked in their admiration. Lady
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