Chapter Six
A
fter church the next day, Mr. Mainmount took leave of his parents to escort Cecilia back to her aunt Higham’s. Certainly Cecilia enjoyed her walk back from church much more in his company than she had going over with only the maid, but Mr. Mainmount was more subdued due to the latter’s presence. Cecilia learned more about him when he was not so jocular; of course, it had been the same with Mr. Cateret.
Mr. Mainmount, while he did not seem to have Mr. Cateret’s passionate sensibility, had a closer connection with his family and their land than his friend. Now he was back in England, Mr. Mainmount planned to spend nearly half the year at his family’s estate, where he would begin to take over some of his father’s duties. He also liked all the country gentleman’s pursuits, many of which Mr. Cateret shunned. In comparing the two men, Cecilia came to realize they had much in common but this only caused her to question further her feelings for Mr. Cateret. Did she want to marry such a man? Were Mr. Cateret’s kindness, intelligence, humor, and deep feelings enough to mitigate his indiscretions, his flirting, his mocking, and his restlessness? While she had believed so only two weeks before, now she was not sure, in light of his behavior toward her and her study of a similar man. She realized she needed to ponder again what Mrs. Partridge had asked her: what kind of life did she want to live? And, adding her own question, what kind of man could give her such a life?
By that evening, Cecilia had nearly given herself a headache with all her back and forth pondering, struggling with her warring sentiments. Strangely, it was Fanny who eased her mind and reminded her she need only enjoy herself, as her father bade her.
“Really, Cecilia, you think too much. It does not serve in matters of the heart, you know,” Fanny began as they sat together on the sofa after dinner. Cecilia had briefly told Fanny of the questions she posed to herself, and while Fanny approved of the questions themselves, for of course it would not do to marry the wrong sort of man, she told Cecilia she deliberated overmuch. “I am quite happy with Mr. Borden but I had several beaux first. Men are like shoes, cousin. You must try several on before you find just the one to suit, especially one which is not too tight.”
Cecilia laughed, but recognized perhaps Fanny was correct. If even such a sophisticated woman as Fanny needed to spend time with several men before finding a suitable husband, should not Cecilia do so as well? Even her cousin Jane Wilcox, as different from Fanny as could be, had urged Cecilia in her last letter not to be hasty in choosing a husband, but to enjoy her youth a bit first, as surely her father wished her to.
“Thank you, Fanny. I suppose you are correct. I will seek enjoyment. I doubt I will receive any proposals in the next few weeks, in any case, and then we will return home.”
“Now, Cecilia, you may indeed receive more than one proposal during your visit, but you need not accept them. Again, like shoes, men can wait on the shelf awhile before you purchase them,” Fanny whispered, for surely such advice would be considered treasonous.
Cecilia giggled before asking seriously, “But what if I like the gentleman? He would not wait long, I assume.”
“You may ask for time to consider and engagements can be broken, though you must be careful of that if you do not want to be known as a jilt. Also, there are ways to prevent a gentleman from proposing and still keep him in attendance.”
Cecilia was much interested in this information and so she and Fanny shared a brief whispered conversation which Cecilia found very enlightening, though she hoped she would not have to employ any of Fanny’s advice.
Cecilia began to see the wisdom Fanny possessed the very next day, when two gentlemen called on her, one hanging after her like a puppy and the other ogling her quite shamelessly. If given the opportunity, she believed at least one would propose to her within the week. Fortunately, Mr. Thornhill was announced, effectively forcing the departure of the remaining gentleman. Cecilia was relieved to be rid of the two men. Though she told herself she was vexed with Mr. Thornhill, she could not suppress her smile. She had not thought to see him again.
Yet there he was, as handsome as ever with his blue jacket snug across his broad chest, trousers which showed his fine form, and smart Hessians. She felt no fluttering in her stomach as she did with Mr. Cateret and Mr. Mainmount, which she assumed to be a sign of attraction, but instead was shaken by Mr. Thornhill’s strong presence. She did not allow herself to think on it, however, as they exchanged greetings and he asked her to drive out with him again. This time, he took her just beyond the city, where, though Mr. Mainmount had told her of it, she was surprised to see was still so bucolic, a village scene, open fields, dotted with cottages and cows. Cow parsley foamed on the verges of hedges, trees sometimes shadowing the unchoked road.
“I believe Mr. Mainmount plans to take me riding here on Wednesday with a party of his friends. There are many pretty spots, as he said there would be.” The sun moved from behind the clouds and Cecilia turned her face toward its warmth.
“Yes, we need not doubt his veracity on that subject. I should like to see you ride, Miss Wilcox. I am sorry I did not think of the plan first.”
“Perhaps another time, Mr. Thornhill.” She longed to ask why he had called again. Her throat caught; she should not care.
“You said you had been riding since you were a small girl. Who taught you?”
“My father and brother Wil, though it fell upon my grandmother to show me the proper way for a lady to ride.” Cecilia smiled in remembrance.
“Your father’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“I would like to hear about her, if you please.”
“She was a vigorous woman. I was surprised when she died, though she was nearly seventy. I was fourteen. She lived with us and spent much of her time with me. She and my parents said we were alike, but I believe she had much more wisdom and patience than myself. After her death, I lived with the Partridges, our nearest neighbors, for a time, so Miss Partridge and I might study together. However, she too was indulgent of me and I was often roaming outdoors rather than applying myself as I should.”
Mr. Thornhill smiled at her; he had a broad, winning smile which made Cecilia smile back.
“Did Miss Partridge join you in your activities?”
“No, Miss Partridge is much more quiet and ladylike than I. She has always been thus. My mother hoped she would influence me, but I preferred to keep my own counsel. I believe Miss Partridge felt she must become my sister when my own, who was the same age as Miss Partridge, died when I was three years old. She was the fourth of my siblings to pass and my mother was most grieved.” Her mother still lamented the loss of these daughters, who had supposedly been so much more pleasing than Cecilia herself.
“I am sorry. The death of a brother or sister is difficult but it seems not as hard as that of a son or daughter. I know the deaths of my brothers hastened my father’s demise.” His voice dropped.
“I did not know. I am sorry. How many brothers did you have?”
“Three. The youngest, Philip, died at twelve, while Peter died some two years ago in naval action. My father, already suffering from my mother’s passing several years before, was brought low and died some months later,” he said with a pained, distant look. Cecilia wanted to comfort him somehow, and almost reached out to him, but clasped her hands in her lap to prevent herself.
“You must have cared very much for your family, sir. Will you tell me about them?” It was odd he did not mention his third brother, but she chose not to ask.
“Yes, if you wish,” Mr. Thornhill said with a slight smile. “My father was very much in love with my mother, though theirs was an arranged match. She was beautiful and kind, yet she had a quick temper. We boys all doted on her. We, like you, spent as much time outdoors as we could. My brothers and I made a troop with a few of the neighboring children, especially the Jenners and the Hookhams. The latter are still my nearest neighbors, but the Jenners, now only the brother and sister, live in Whitchurch. I visit them whenever I can.”
“You must have had such diverting times with so many playmates.”
“Indeed I did, as Lionel Hall is just suited for the amusement of children. I hope to see it alive with the laughter and sport of youth again someday.” Hesitating, he glanced at Cecilia, whose color rose as she looked away. Now would be the time to use some of Fanny’s instruction, but she could not bring herself to prevaricate with Mr. Thornhill. “I am sorry, Miss Wilcox. I must seem dull company.”
“I should never call you dull, sir. I am happy to hear about your family. Do you have many aunts and uncles, a few cousins, perhaps? My cousins are very dear to me.”
“Yes, though few are still living. I hope my uncle, Lord Nefton, will arrive in London shortly, though he was unsure of his arrival in his last letter. I have not seen him since I visited him last December. Now, I see we must start back or you shall be late. Your mother expressly asked me to have you back within an hour and a half.”
“Thank you for remembering. I had quite forgot. We are to dine at the Mainmounts’ this evening.” A chill breeze made her shiver.
“Oh? Do you have many engagements this week?”
“Yes, for Mr. Mainmount has vowed to monopolize my time.” Cecilia laughed. “As I said, we are to go riding on Wednesday, the theatre on Friday, perhaps Vauxhall gardens on Saturday and a gallery next week. He has promised to tutor me in the pleasures of London,” Cecilia finished with a smile. This faded upon seeing the dark expression which momentarily clouded Mr. Thornhill’s face.
“Did he? I suppose he is most qualified for such a task,” he replied with a tinge of bitterness. “I hope you will enjoy yourself, Miss Wilcox,” Mr. Thornhill continued in a light-hearted tone. “I should not wish to stand in the way of your pleasure. Perhaps you will have insufficient time to receive other callers?”
“No, not at all, Mr. Thornhill. I did not mean to give you such an impression.” Her body tightened at the thought of not seeing him again.
“May I call for you again tomorrow?” He kept his eyes on the road.
“Yes, thank you,” Cecilia said. She exhaled, then breathed deeply the crisp air.
As they reentered the city, Mr. Thornhill remained silent, and Cecilia followed suit. He could be most inscrutable, yet he was such a man as she wished to know better, a man whose good opinion would be worth having.
However, as she later sat getting ready for the dinner party, she chided herself. Why should she want his good opinion if her object was amusement? He was not one with whom she felt she could jest and though she liked spending time with him, he made her unsure and shy, unlike her fluttery ease around Mr. Mainmount and, until he scorned her, Mr. Cateret. Quickly stopping herself, she recited a favorite poem in hopes she could halt her mutinous thoughts. The order was amusement and she should conduct herself accordingly.
Cecilia tried to find pleasure at the Mainmounts’ party, but found herself discouraged. Had Amelia been there, she would have enjoyed what no doubt would have been scathing remarks from her cousin about the assembled company. Her first impressions of Mr. Mainmount’s parents were confirmed and his sister and her husband, friends of Fanny and Mr. Borden, seemed only to bring out all of Fanny’s haughtiness and snobbery. Then there were the gossips, her own mother and aunt, Mr. Treacle, and an even more foppish little man, Mr. Todd, full of obsequiousness and toadyism. The rest of the guests were, like their hosts, full of hauteur: Sir John Cavendish, with his wife, son, and daughter, Sir Henry Stanley, his wife, Lady Selina Stanley, and her elder brother and younger sister, Mr. Stephen Latimer and Miss Sylvie Latimer.
Lady Stanley was the only one of the party who treated Cecilia with what seemed genuine politeness. Cecilia at first hoped Miss Latimer, who was also having her first London season, though she was a year older than Cecilia, was merely jealous of Mr. Mainmount’s attentions to her and would improve upon further acquaintance. To this end, Cecilia tried to be friendly toward Miss Latimer, but was put off by her petulant tone and disturbed by her complaining that she had not been able to attend the season last year as she had been in mourning for her father. When Cecilia expressed her sympathy, she was rebuffed with the horrifying statement that she was glad to only have to deal with her brother now, who was not so stern or watchful as her father had been. Cecilia was struck dumb by this remark; she could not imagine feeling so about her own dear papa. Gladly, she was saved from replying as they were called to proceed in to dinner.
As the evening progressed, Cecilia was reminded of Mr. Thornhill’s comment about women who were full of scorn and intrigue. She now saw several examples of this before her. Miss Latimer tried to claim Mr. Mainmount’s attentions, while Lady Mainmount tried to steer him toward Miss Mary Cavendish, who seemed to prefer Mr. Latimer. All this was done in such a drippingly polite yet clearly plotted manner that, as they sat at the dining room table, Cecilia began to feel ill. As at the ball, the gross display of food and drink, silver and china, did not improve her disposition. Yet all the while she rebuked herself for her thoughts; perhaps she was being overly censorious and out of step with the fashion of the day. Certainly the other ladies scowled at her as though her dress were dated, rather than a new silk jonquil gown with leaf green embroidery. Cecilia preferred the simpler lines of classical gowns rather than the newer fashion of lace and vandyked flounces, a glut of material.