She moved away, accepting a glass of wine from the footman and smiling at Mrs. Lance and Miss Fernie, who had just risen from another table.
Perry was left alone, his heart thundering in his breast so hard that his ears sang. For although he despised his company, he realized suddenly that their poor opinion of him would be devastating. Not just for his cachet among the yokels, but for his aunt’s inheritance. She was not compelled to leave him anything at all.
Mrs. Silver could ruin everything with one word that would spread like wildfire in high wind—around the room, around the village, around Society…
*
Constance’s instincts aboutmen were rarely wrong, so she was not surprised that her initial opinion of Peregrine Mortimer had been proved right from the beginning of the evening. His pursuit of the clearly uncomfortable Sophie Chadwick smacked of social bullying, while cheating his supposedly lesser friends and neighbors at cards was arrogant, contemptuous, and curiously entitled. He had even seen Constance watching him, and yet not taken the hint, assuming instead that she could not take her eyes off his manly charms.
She had encountered far too many Peregrine Mortimers in her life not to recognize the type. She only hoped her warning would work, for she wasn’t prepared to give another.
Solomon was playing cards with the vicar’s wife. Mrs. Lance, who seemed a pleasant lady, joined a game of whist, leaving Constance alone with Miss Fernie, one of the people sheparticularly wanted to speak to, since she had once been the village schoolteacher.
“A game of piquet, ma’am?” Constance suggested.
“To own the truth, I can’t see the cards as well as I used to. Staring at them gives me a headache. I believe I shall sit out the next game and instead enjoy a few choice morsels from the buffet.”
“What an excellent idea.”
Constance had not even noticed the buffet being laid out at the far end of the drawing room, but it was clearly meant for casual nibbling between or even during games. Since they were currently alone picking at this feast, Constance said, “Actually, I am glad of this opportunity to consult you, Miss Fernie, since you must know the village and especially the children very well. Are you a native of Sutton May?”
“My father was the vicar here, long before the Raeburns came, obviously. And I was brought up to be useful, so I eventually taught at the school—being educated, you understand.”
“Eventually?” Constance repeated.
Miss Fernie smiled, almost preening. “Oh, I had my Seasons in London, you know. My father was the younger son of a very prominent family. I have traveled the world more than anyone else in the environs of Sutton May. You come from London, do you not?”
“I do.”
“I’m sure I knew a Silver family when I was young… I still correspond with my family who have a house there. I even visited them last spring. Town has changed so much, I find. The lines of Society are no longer what they were. Perhaps that is a good thing. What is your first name, my dear?”
“Constance.” She replied with some misgivings, for her name was certainly notorious in some circles. However, a maiden ladyof good family was hardly likely to have heard it, and several people in the village knew her Christian name by now.
Besides, Miss Fernie had already moved on.
“My father founded the school, you know. Until then, no one taught the village children. Some still chose to remain in ignorance, of course, as if education was a waste of time for any but gentlemen.”
“Yours was an enlightened family.”
“Oh, indeed we were. I like to think I still am, although, of course, things can betooenlightened and then standards drop. Our first teacher was our curate, you know. A most clever gentleman of excellent family. And then the son of one of my father’s friends took over. A very fine, upstanding man, but sadly of indifferent health. I began teaching merely to cover for his unavoidable absences, and then I took over altogether. I like to think the school ran perfectly when I was in charge. The children read and wrote and counted and learned how to behave. Now they run wild, like mannerless little animals, but what can one expect with such a man in charge?”
“Mr. Ogden?” Constance said in surprise. “I have heard him very well spoken of.”
Miss Fernie wrinkled her nose. “An example, sadly, of Society changing too far and too fast. I understand he is a clever man—though one would never think it to speak to him—but honestly, what is the son of a laborer even doing at Oxford? Or was it Cambridge?”
“I expect he was well taught by someone like you,” Constance said lightly.
“Indubitably, and inevitably a charity case, but the results are before us all. He cannot maintain discipline and has no idea of manners or morals.”
“Tell me,” Constance said, “about the local families. The Dickies, for example, and the Gimlets…”
*
“Forgive me,” MissJenson murmured, sidling up to Solomon as he gathered the cards after his game with Mrs. Raeburn, “might I have a word?”
“Of course.” Half standing. Solomon watched her slip into the vacant chair. Her slightly beaky face expressed discomfort.
“It’s about Mrs. Silver,” she confided. “I would hate her to be taken in by Mr. Mortimer’s—um…playful manners.”
