“That is just it, Mr. Bigg-Wither,” Miss Mayton said, “there is nothing rational about true love. Once Gregorio became convinced that he could never have me, he could not go on.”
“But he did not die right away, is that not so?” Viola asked.
“Oh no, he lingered on for at least a half hour, all the while professing his love for me. I stayed by his side and held his hand throughout.”
“A half hour? Why didn’t you go get help?” Mr. Bigg-Wither asked.
Yes, Matthew thought, the question of the hour. Why did not Miss Mayton ever make any attempts to save all her dead lotharios? As he knew them all to be fiction springing out of her unsteady mind, he must suppose she found something interesting about dead gentlemen.
Conveniently, Miss Mayton ignored that very practical question. Rather, she spent the next half hour regaling her confounded audience with various bits of nonsense Gregorio had allegedly murmured through his death rattles.Having known you for one hour was worth a lifetime and I do not regret having met you and departing the world earlybeing perhaps the most preposterous.
“Well now,” the earl said, “let us move the conversation on as there is nothing more to be done for Gregorionow.”
The waiters had come in to clear the table and bring in dessert. Matthew would very much like a glass of port, but it somehow seemed wrong while these newly met ladies were at table. He settled for tea, though the presence of just introduced company did not stop Mr. Bigg-Wither or the earl from indulging.
“I know what you will ask, Papa,” Juliet said suddenly.
“Do you? Have you taken to reading my mind now?” he asked goodhumoredly.
“You will wish that I recite one of my odes, to entertain during the dessert course.”
“I hadn’t thought of it, but you are very welcome if you wish, my dear.”
Matthew suppressed a groan. Must they display every single one of their foibles to strangers?
Juliet stood and cleared her throat. “I composed this very nearby where we sit this evening, having viewed a very stirring vista. It is calledOde to a Farmer’s Fence.”
Sturdy wood, painted fence
Passed by not a moment’s hence
It keeps you in or keeps me out
That is the thing I wonder about.
Upon speaking of her wonderment over a fence, Juliet got a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were remembering that remarkable encounter.
Matthew winced. He’d like to corral them all behind a fence just now. That piece of drivel was even worse than the ode to cows of last evening.
Juliet’s sisters clapped with enthusiasm and it was apparent that Miss Bigg, Miss Catherine, and Miss Austen only took up the applause after they’d seemed to note that it was expected.
Miss Austen’s lip trembled and Matthew was certain she was attempting to hold back her laughter.
Mr. Bigg-Wither stared as if he’d just heard something in a foreign language that he did not speak. Finally, he said, “It’s about a fence, then?”
“Very elegantly put together, Juliet,” Miss Mayton said. “Now, Miss Bigg, Miss Catherine, and Miss Austen, if you are prepared to linger an hour, I am going to read to everybody. We are just now hearing of the one-eyed duke who is in love with his gentle governess, but we do not yet know if she can love a one-eyed man.”
Mr. Bigg-Wither said, “I really do not think—”
“Oh, let’s do,” Miss Austen said with a rather amused smile.
Matthew gripped his teacup. He motioned for the waiter to bring him a glass of port. Protocol be damned, it would be well to dull his senses just now.
The next hour found Matthew grateful for the glass of port, and the second one he drank. Apparently, the gentle governess was trying all sorts of gambits to see underneath the duke’s eye patch and assess what she would be dealing with.
Did the fellow not notice when she tripped over an ottoman and grabbed at it? Was it not apparent when she tried to hook it with a fishing pole and ended up hooking his cheek instead?
He was considering a third glass of port when Mr. Bigg-Wither put an end to the evening by saying, “They both sound like idiots.”
