Mr. Malcolm's List by Suzanne Allain Page A

door.
    “Selina,
may I come in?” she asked.
    “It looks
like you are in,” Selina said.
    Julia
closed the door carefully behind her and sat down on the window seat.   “I think it is time,” she said.
    “If you
think it is time for bed, I can only agree, and wonder why it is you’re in my
chamber instead of your own.”
    “No,”
Julia said impatiently, “I think it is time to show Malcolm your list.”
    “What
list?   I do not have a list.”
    “You
know, we discussed all this before, when you first came to town.   You are to allow Malcolm to find a list that
you’ve written, except all the items will not be checked.   Then he will see what it is like to be
measured and found wanting.”
    “Julia, I
know that Malcolm hurt your feelings and I am sorry for that.   I believe you two started out on the wrong
foot, and I think if you allowed yourself to get to know him—”
    “Selina,
what are you saying?”
    “I am
saying that I do not intend to take part in this, this deception, any
longer.   I admire Malcolm.   I do not want to hurt him.”
    Julia’s
eyes narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest.   “So, now that you’ve seen Hadley Hall, seen
how rich he is, you think you can get him to marry you, is that it?”
    “No, that
is not it!   I am not interested in
Malcolm because of his possessions.   I
truly admire him and lo—like him.”
    “So you
lo-like him, do you?” Julia said, mimicking Selina’s near slip of the
tongue.   “I wonder if you’d lo-like him
if he was a poverty-stricken curate from Yorkshire .”
    “Yes, I
would,” Selina said, glaring defiantly at Julia.
    “Well,
this is all very touching, but it is not at all what was supposed to
happen.”   Julia rose from the window seat
to pace angrily about the room.   “You
agreed to help me.”
    “I agreed
to think about it.   Which I did.   Very carefully.   And I do not find Mr. Malcolm to be deserving
of such a trick.”
    “And
I?   You think that I was deserving
of such a trick?”
    “No, but
I do not think it was the same thing at all.”
    “But it
was!   It was exactly the same,” Julia
insisted.
    “Malcolm
did not set out to offend you.   He had no
way of knowing you would discover he had a list.”
    “But I
did find out.   He did offend me.”
    “And do
you think you have never offended anyone?   It happens, Julia.   Frequently.   A mature person
accepts it and moves on.   No one wants a
person incapable of forgiveness for a friend.”
      “And I do not want a prosy preacher’s daughter
for a friend,” Julia said, striding to the door.
    “Julia,”
Selina said, but her only answer was the sound of a door being firmly closed.
    Mr.
Malcolm and his mother heard the sound from where they still sat in the drawing
room.
    “What was
that?” Lady Kilbourne asked.
    “It
sounded as if someone slammed a door.”
    “Probably
that Miss Thistlewaite.   She looks like
the door-slammer type to me.”   There was
a pause, the only sound the clickety-clack of Lady Kilbourne’s knitting
needles.   Then she sighed.   “Poor Mr. Ossory.”
    “Why do
you say that?” Malcolm asked.
    “She
means to have him.   And she’s the type
that gets her way.”   She looked up from
her needlework for a moment to eye her son curiously.   “What surprises me is that she did not set
her cap for you.   You are the more
brilliant match.”
    “Oh, but
she did.   It was short-lived, however.”
    “Really?   What happened?”
    Malcolm
shrugged.   “Nothing, really.   I took her to the opera once and then did not
call again.   It died a natural death.”
    “That is
what you think.   I doubt she’d forget a
rejection like that very quickly.   She is
not enjoying taking second place to your Miss Dalton.”
    “She is
not my Miss Dalton yet.”
    “Yes, I
know,” his mother said, somewhat wearily.   “I wish you would hurry the business.   You know how much I detest entertaining.”
    “So