If he were, he would see Van Doren coming into the house. That might be just as helpful as Darden’s friends hanging about. After all, her poor gentleman could not know that Van Doren was only a neighbor from home. He might be taken as a suitor too.
The idea gave Beatrice some sort of uncomfortable feeling. Van Doren. As a suitor…
Juliet stood with a paper in hand. “I have just finished a new ode,” she said.
“Do read it to us, dear,” Miss Mayton said.
Juliet cleared her throat. “Ode to the Person Who Always Seems to be Coming for Dinner.”
Why is he here, does anybody know?
He comes and comes when we’d rather he go.
They say he is popular, but can that be true?
If it be so, it is certainly new.
“Well done, Jules,” Cordelia said. “You’ve captured Van Doren perfectly.”
“I’d like to see Wordsworth set the scene so economically,” Rosalind said.
Though Beatrice had always found great amusement in Juliet’s various odes against Van Doren, somehow this one did not move her so.
The earl and Darden came into the room, having concluded whatever business they had been attending to.
“Van Doren will be here shortly,” the earl said, “he knows we dine early on a Sunday.”
“He is always here,” Viola said. “It almost seems he ought to have a room above stairs. It would save him the walk.”
“Now, there girl,” the earl said. “One day, I think you will all appreciate the worth of our neighbor. He has been a stalwart friend to this family.”
Though their father never scolded, all of the sisters understood when he meant them to correct their course on some matter. It was gentle, but it was hard to miss.
“He is a fine gentleman,” Darden said, “if you would only step back and see it.”
Step back. Beatrice fairly shivered at the phrase. It was what she had named those instances when she did not look upon Van Doren as their scolding neighbor.
When she looked upon him as only a gentleman recently met.
“I suppose we could have a worse neighbor,” Rosalind said grudgingly.
“I will go so far as to admit it,” Juliet said, much to Beatrice’s surprise. “Imagine if our neighbor was Mr. Graydell, always threatening to shoot a person he thinks is eyeing his coveys?”
“Or Miss Fairweather?” Cordelia said, laughing. “Never was a lady less aptly named. She’d have been better named Miss Stormy-Weather.”
“Now, that poor lady does suffer from the rheumatism, which can make a person less than genial,” the earl reminded them.
“Oh Papa,” Viola said, “we were only working to rein in our disdain for Van Doren, do not scold us about Miss Fairweather too.”
“I only say,” the earl said, “you must learn to take people as you find them. It is a far more pleasant way to go on.”
“If I must discover a compliment somewhere,” Cordelia said, “and I only look for one to please you, Papa—it does at least seem as if Van Doren is turning himself into a usual gentleman upon his arrival to Town.”
“Yes, we have heard he makes himself pleasant and is ever so popular,” Rosalind said.
“Perhaps one of these ladies he meets will start his heart beating and he will discover some romance in there somewhere,” Miss Mayton said. “Anything is possible, after all.”
“Beatrice?” Darden asked. “What say you regarding our worthy neighbor?”
