Plain Jane by MC Beaton

a neutral sort of voice, ‘if you told a young lady you intended to call on her papa on the morrow, what would she think?’
    ‘Why – that you had marriage in mind.’
    The beau drove on in silence.
    ‘I say,’ said Mr Nevill, ‘never tell me you’ve asked leave to pay your addresses to the Hart chit!’
    ‘No. I desired to see Captain Hart with a view to discussing a purely masculine matter.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Entirely my affair. If anything comes of it, I will let you know. However, I fear I may have given both Jane and Mrs Hart the wrong impression.’
    ‘Did you make love to the girl?’
    ‘No, of course not. She is much too young.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘But I tell you, Peter, there is something about that little waif that makes me behave in the oddest fashion. She did not want to go to the park, but requested a drive about London. Then, when we were on Westminster Bridge, the wretched Cully challenged me to a race from Streatham to Croydon, and before I knew what I was about, there I was, enjoying myself immensely, going like the devil, with Jane Hart cheering me on.’
    ‘Did she?’ Mr Nevill looked at his large friend in awe. ‘A Trojan of a girl.’
    ‘Not only that,’ said the beau, ‘she then involved me in a fight in the Green Park because her footman was under attack.’
    ‘You know, you had better watch,’ said Mr Nevill. ‘I have never known you behave in such an unconventional manner. Are you sure there is not a certain something about Jane Hart which . . . ?’
    ‘Do look,’ interrupted Lord Tregarthan. ‘Isn’t that fellow a veritable quiz? His cravat is so high, he has to stare at the sky as he walks along.’
    Mr Nevill began to laugh and the subject of Jane Hart’s attractions was soon forgotten.
    Although Lord Tregarthan was quite sure Jane herself would not expect a proposal of marriage, her mother was another matter. He decided to send a note round that very evening to Mrs Hart explaining that the matter he wished to discuss with Mr Hart was one of business. He called his butler and handed him the note, his butler handed it to the first footman, who handed it to the second footman, Abraham, and Abraham set off in the direction of Clarges Street.
    He was a young man who had but lately joined Lord Tregarthan’s establishment. He was tall and good-looking but still naive and countrified and rather overpowered by the
tonnish
ways of the London servants.
    He met Rainbird, who was standing on the steps of Number 67 taking the air. Perhaps if he had stated his business immediately the note would have been delivered, but, feeling at ease under Rainbird’s benign look, he said he was from Lord Tregarthan’s household and that he had but lately come to town. One thing led to another and soon Abraham was confiding his fears of grand society and Rainbird was giving him various tips as to how to go on.
    Then there came the sounds of a noisy altercation from the kitchen below, and Rainbird invited the young footman down the area steps, saying he would settle the matter in a trice. The cause of all the row turned out to be Joseph’s cat. MacGregor was threatening to behead it, Jenny and Alice were screaming it had a nasty look and, as sure as eggs were eggs, the animal had fleas, Joseph was clutching the cat to his bosom, Mrs Middleton was bleating in dismay, and Dave was joyfully taking one side and then the other. Lizzie was standing a little away from the argument, wondering what best she could do to aid Joseph.
    The noisy freedom and interchange of views amazed Abraham, who was used to the stiff formality of Lord Tregarthan’s servants’ hall. He thought Alice was the most beautiful maidservant he had ever seen and if she did not want the cat then the cat should go. Abraham cheerfully joined in the argument.
    Lizzie quietly fetched a saucer of milk and some scraps of beef. She gently took the cat away from Joseph and carried it to a corner of the kitchen, crouching