Miss Darcy's Diversions by Ronald McGowan

Author:Ronald McGowan [McGowan, Ronald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen:A Surprise

I was packing my things for the trip to Margate a week after, that is to say, I was watching contentedly while Hannah the maid packed my things, when Fitzwilliam knocked on my door.

“Can you spare me a moment from your important task, Georgiana?” he asked, with what, for him, passes as diffidence. “I should like a word with you in private.”

“Certainly,” I replied. “Carry on as you are, Hannah, you know what I want. Let us go to the library. No-one will disturb us there.”

“Tell me, my dear,” he asked, when we were comfortably ensconced in the armchairs by the library window, “have you been saying a great deal of Mr Kerr lately?”

“Rather more than I should like,” I replied. “Does he have nowhere else to go?”

“I take it that the gentleman is no great favourite of yours, then?”

“I should not say so, but why do you ask?”

“Because you appear to be rather a favourite of his, my dear.”

“I should imagine that anyone who will put up with him is rather a favourite of his. I dare say that there is no real harm in him, but he is so dull. He comes here at all hours, we greet each other, and then he sits and stares at me. He never says a word beyond “How do you do, Miss Darcy?” When he wishes to vary his staring he may venture a sigh, or even a gasp, but that is all that will willingly pass his lips until he takes his leave. Meanwhile I sit there trying to keep my eyes from straying to the clock, and occasionally attempting one-sided small talk. He is lucky he has not yet come upon me while I am doing my crewel work, or I should have run my needle into him before now, just to hear him squeak.”

“He cannot be that bad, surely?”

“Honestly, my dear, dear brother, he has absolutely no conversation. He never volunteers a word of his own volition, and if questioned his answers are not so much laconic as monosyllabic. In fact, they generally consist merely of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, alternately, and, as far as I can make out, bearing no relationship to whatever may have been asked, as –

‘Good morning, Mr Kerr. Are you well?’

‘Yes.’

‘And is your mother well?’

‘No.’

“I am sorry to hear that. I do hope it is not serious. It is not serious, is it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I hope she will recover soon, and I am sure that you hope so too, do you not?”

‘No.’

‘Tell me, Mr Kerr, is it true what they say, that you have been married these ten years, and keep your wife locked up in your house in Scotland?’

‘Yes.’

‘And are you then a Mohammedan, Mr Kerr, who may have four wives?’

‘No.’

‘Yet you are come to London to find a wife, are you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘And do you never think of that poor lady in Scotland?’

‘No.’

‘Do you really think such conduct to be so very creditable to an Elder of the Kirk. Mr Kerr?’

‘Yes.’

“And so on.

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