“Papa,” Beatrice said in an affectionate scolding tone she often used with him, “a gentleman I would have to drag in is not a gentleman I would accept.”
“Naturally, she won’t,” Rosalind said. “We have had thorough discussions regarding what will be required from the successful suitor.”
“Thorough,” Viola confirmed.
“He must have the courage of Beowulf,” Rosalind said.
“The strength of Hercules and derring-do of Robin Hood,” Cordelia said.
“As gallant as Sir Gawain, with the depth of feelings of Shakespeare,” Beatrice added.
“And Beatrice,” Miss Mayton put in, “you were quite set on the gentleman having the stalwart heart of Henry the Fifth.”
“This is ridiculous,” Van Doren muttered.
The five girls round the table glared at him. Juliet said, “He must be all of that,sir, and he must be violently in love, tearing his hair out, and challenging other suitors to a duel. He might even threaten to do a violence to himself.”
“I am a lord, not a sir, as you are aware, Juliet,” Van Doren said. “As for this list of requirements, I would be interested to see the fellow who has torn all his hair out and is both attempting to kill another suitor and attempting to kill himself. Where is this bald lunatic?”
“I must point out,” Beatrice said, “I would prefer onlythreatsto do a violence to himself. I do not wish for anyone to be hurt. I am not unreasonable. I have said so several times.”
“You are entirely unreasonable. If such a man exists,” Van Doren said, “heoughtto do a violence to himself.”
“Come now, Van Doren,” the earl said goodhumoredly, “allow the girls to have their whimsies. Youth is a fleeting thing, after all, and should be enjoyed to the fullest before the dry practicalities of life creep in.”
Beatrice watched, satisfied, as Van Doren put his attention on his beef. The only person in the room that he did not dare lecture was the earl.
“Though, Papa,” Beatrice said, “my requirements cannot be considered a whimsy. If I am to accept a gentleman and be his lady forevermore, I must have requirements. It would be foolish not to have thought deeply on it.”
“Yes, certainly, no harm in that,” the earl said. “Though, I think you’ll meet some young buck and then throw all your requirements out a window.”
“Do you mean to say,” Beatrice said slowly, “I could be struck by true love against my will? Against my very requirements?”
“Something like that, yes,” the earl said.
Beatrice turned to Miss Mayton. “Can that happen?” she asked. “Could I fall in love against my will?”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Mayton said confidently. “After all, I do not suppose that Hans preferred to leap to his death from unrequited love. He must have been against it all along.”
“There is no Hans!” Van Doren practically shouted, gripping his fork as if he’d stab himself with it.
“Not anymore, sadly,” Miss Mayton said, with the little sniff she often employed to signal to the viscount that she did not give a toss for his opinions.
“Again, I ask,” Van Doren said, “how did you get from the palace in Stockholm to an Alpine meadow so fast? Assuming you got there on a flying carpet, as I do not know how else it could be accomplished, you were a single lady. Was there no chaperone? Did his family not wonder where he’d gone? Did you not seek help in case he was only injured? Did this tragic death never get reported in the newspapers? And how did he manage to say so much as he was plummeting down a mountainside?”
“He wore a green coat, by the by,” Juliet said.
“For the love of—”
“Poor Lord Van Doren…no heart at all,” Miss Mayton murmured.
“I will caution you, Beatrice,” the viscount said, “no gentleman of sense will tolerate these outrageous ideas. I only give you that hint.”
Another of Van Doren’s freely distributed hints. By gentleman of sense, Beatrice presumed he meant his own dull and dusty way of going about things.
“That is welcome news,” she said, “as I would have no use for a gentleman of sense.”
That had not been expressed precisely what she meant, but Beatrice was certain Van Doren understood her meaning.
