Free Sorcery & Cecelia: Or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia Collins Wrede Page A

last. “If you marry the Marquis, Miranda will not be able to order you about any longer. And you will have a great position as well, which Aunt Elizabeth says is most important in spite of being Vain and Worldly.”
    “I don’t want to marry the Marquis! I want to marry Robert!” And Dorothea burst into tears again.
    “Robert? You mean, Robert Penwood ?” I said numbly. Dorothea immediately gave me to understand that it was indeed so, and embarked on a list of his excellent qualities that made Mrs. Radcliffe’s heroes seem insipid by comparison. I let her talk, as it seemed to do her good and it gave me time to think. Robert is nice enough, certainly, but I find it difficult to see how he could engender such depth of feeling in Dorothea. Still, there is no accounting for tastes.
    “Does Robert reciprocate your affection?” I asked, cutting off her panegyric.
    “I believe so—that is, he has always been most truly a gentleman,” Dorothea said, blushing.
    “In that case, we must clearly do something,” I told her.
    “There is nothing to be done,” Dorothea said, reverting to gloom. “Mama will force me to marry the Marquis, and I will never see Robert again!”
    “That is a great piece of nonsense,” I said impatiently. “For one thing, your Stepmama cannot possibly make the Marquis of Schofield offer for you if he does not wish to. And from what I have heard of him, I cannot think he would wish to.”
    It occurred to me as I said this that my sentiment was not as tactfully expressed as it might have been, but Dorothea did not appear to notice. “Oh, do you really think so?” she said, and her face brightened momentarily. Then she frowned again. “But Miranda will make him offer for me somehow, I know it.”
    “Miranda cannot bully everyone into doing as she likes,” I said in exasperation. “The thing to do is for us to make sure that whatever plans she makes go astray.”
    Dorothea showed signs of weeping again and insisted that Miranda’s plans are impossible to overset. It took me a deal of time to persuade her otherwise, but at last I got her calmed down enough to discuss matters more intelligently. I thought at first of manufacturing some excuse to keep her at Tarleton Hall, but I quickly saw that it would not do. It must appear far too convenient, for one thing, and I do not wish to make the mistake of underestimating Miranda’s intellect. That would be fatal ! So we settled that Dorothea would agree to go to London, and pretend to be eager for the balls and parties, but she is to avoid the Marquis of Schofield as much as possible and never, ever, to be alone with him. And I have told her again to visit you as soon as she reaches London (but without letting her Stepmama know), for I know I can depend upon you to sympathize with her about the Marquis, and to perhaps instill her with a little spirit. I am to speak to Robert Penwood, and between us we will devise some plan.
    This seemed to me to be a rather slender hope, but it cheered Dorothea wonderfully, and in a little while she was composed enough that we could return to the tea table. I remembered to have Dorothea summon her maid to pack before we left the room, for I did not think it wise to further irritate Miranda by ignoring her express commands. Then we went downstairs to inform Miranda that Dorothea would be ready to leave within the hour.
    You may, therefore, imagine my surprise when we entered the sitting room and Miranda announced that she and Dorothea would not be leaving for at least another day. I was even more astonished to learn that they were remaining at the behest of James Tarleton, who had come in and joined Lady Tarleton and Mrs. Griscomb while Dorothea and I were upstairs. And he had brought in a bouquet for Dorothea, which he said he had picked himself!
    Mr. Tarleton’s behavior continued to be quite unaccountable. He leapt to his feet as soon as Dorothea entered the room, and held her chair (for which there was not