Margaret’s in the neighbouring parish, which was unfortunately a very poor living, but one which came under the Earl of Stavourley’s patronage. Pease had been appointed the previous year, and since then had been a guest at Melmouth Park, though not a frequent one, I am pleased to say.
While there was nothing unpleasant in Reverend Pease’s character, he was not the sort whom ladies found entertaining. I doubt gentlemen would find his conversation engrossing either, as he talked of little beyond sermons and fishing and often nodded off to sleep in his chairjust when the company became lively. I expect from my description you would imagine him to be an old man, perhaps one who took snuff which he dropped all over his cravat, a miserly septuagenarian whose nose was misshapen and red. But no, in 1789 Reverend Pease was all of twenty-eight! One might never have guessed it. His hair was thin, of a white-blond colour, almost grey. It would have been suitably in vogue had powdering still been à la mode , but now that young gentlemen had begun to wear their hair au naturel , it made him appear not only unfashionable but ancient as well. He was not a man of complicated manners or dress. His suits were of a plain puritanical wool and shaped to hold his enormous girth, while his jaw had a habit of hanging slack when his attention was fixed on something.
Pease had made his first appearance among us at the annual New Year ball at Melmouth and no doubt his presence would have gone completely unnoticed had he not made such a spectacle of himself. It was not that he made any outrageous faux pas , or fell upon his face in a reel, or drank himself into a slumber, as many are inclined to do. No, Pease was more amusing than that. He caught Lady Catherine’s notice by attaching himself firmly to my side. In fact, I found it near impossible to shake free of him the entire night. Wherever I walked, he followed, wherever I sat, he joined me. He spoke of nothing, but stared at me, like an infant child beside its mother. He drove off nearly every dancing partner with cross looks and guarded me with the fierceness of a sultana’s eunuch. I had not the courage to jilt him and sent pleading looks to my cousin, who spent most of the occasion laughing cruelly behind her fan. Thereafter he became our favourite object of ridicule. For several weeks Lady Catherine’s sharp-witted comments would throw me into fits of laughter and bring a hesitant smile to my aunt’s face, but all of this came to an end after Lord Stavourley received a letter from Pease, in which he expressed his “great affection” for me. From then onward, Lady Stavourley forbade her daughter from speaking so unkindly.
My aunt told me little of what was in his letter, only that the Earl had put him off because he possessed an income of no more than two hundred pounds a year. This news might have provided me with some comfort, had my aunt not delivered it to me with a pinch of spite. “He was disappointed to learn you had nothing entailed upon you,” said she, her face blank of expression. “I believe he thought you were worth more.”
After this, I could never quite fathom what plans she had for me and Pease. Although my uncle had discouraged him, I suppose she had not quite dismissed the possibility that he might take me off their hands. This, I am certain, is the reason why she invited him to dine with us on the evening when Lord Allenham and my uncle were due from London. She wished him to think the door had not completely shut on his ambitions, regardless of what my uncle had led him to conclude. At the time, I was surprised by her actions. It would be a few months still before I would come to understand her motives and to view her in an altogether different light.
The thought that Allenham was on his way to Melmouth was enough to unnerve me, without the promise of Pease’s company as well. I tried all I could not to appear perturbed. I had not slept much the night
While there was nothing unpleasant in Reverend Pease’s character, he was not the sort whom ladies found entertaining. I doubt gentlemen would find his conversation engrossing either, as he talked of little beyond sermons and fishing and often nodded off to sleep in his chairjust when the company became lively. I expect from my description you would imagine him to be an old man, perhaps one who took snuff which he dropped all over his cravat, a miserly septuagenarian whose nose was misshapen and red. But no, in 1789 Reverend Pease was all of twenty-eight! One might never have guessed it. His hair was thin, of a white-blond colour, almost grey. It would have been suitably in vogue had powdering still been à la mode , but now that young gentlemen had begun to wear their hair au naturel , it made him appear not only unfashionable but ancient as well. He was not a man of complicated manners or dress. His suits were of a plain puritanical wool and shaped to hold his enormous girth, while his jaw had a habit of hanging slack when his attention was fixed on something.
Pease had made his first appearance among us at the annual New Year ball at Melmouth and no doubt his presence would have gone completely unnoticed had he not made such a spectacle of himself. It was not that he made any outrageous faux pas , or fell upon his face in a reel, or drank himself into a slumber, as many are inclined to do. No, Pease was more amusing than that. He caught Lady Catherine’s notice by attaching himself firmly to my side. In fact, I found it near impossible to shake free of him the entire night. Wherever I walked, he followed, wherever I sat, he joined me. He spoke of nothing, but stared at me, like an infant child beside its mother. He drove off nearly every dancing partner with cross looks and guarded me with the fierceness of a sultana’s eunuch. I had not the courage to jilt him and sent pleading looks to my cousin, who spent most of the occasion laughing cruelly behind her fan. Thereafter he became our favourite object of ridicule. For several weeks Lady Catherine’s sharp-witted comments would throw me into fits of laughter and bring a hesitant smile to my aunt’s face, but all of this came to an end after Lord Stavourley received a letter from Pease, in which he expressed his “great affection” for me. From then onward, Lady Stavourley forbade her daughter from speaking so unkindly.
My aunt told me little of what was in his letter, only that the Earl had put him off because he possessed an income of no more than two hundred pounds a year. This news might have provided me with some comfort, had my aunt not delivered it to me with a pinch of spite. “He was disappointed to learn you had nothing entailed upon you,” said she, her face blank of expression. “I believe he thought you were worth more.”
After this, I could never quite fathom what plans she had for me and Pease. Although my uncle had discouraged him, I suppose she had not quite dismissed the possibility that he might take me off their hands. This, I am certain, is the reason why she invited him to dine with us on the evening when Lord Allenham and my uncle were due from London. She wished him to think the door had not completely shut on his ambitions, regardless of what my uncle had led him to conclude. At the time, I was surprised by her actions. It would be a few months still before I would come to understand her motives and to view her in an altogether different light.
The thought that Allenham was on his way to Melmouth was enough to unnerve me, without the promise of Pease’s company as well. I tried all I could not to appear perturbed. I had not slept much the night
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