Free Regency Sting by Elizabeth Mansfield

by the butler with a tea tray.
    Cherry had envisioned a number of tableaus which she might have discovered on her entrance into the drawing room: Anne and Arthur at opposite ends of the room, staring at each other in white-lipped anger; Anne and Arthur locked in a passionate embrace; Anne seated on the sofa, hands folded, and Arthur kneeling beside her; Anne sobbing miserably in Arthur’s arms. What she never imagined was that Anne would be laughing uncontrollably, and Arthur would be gaping at her in bewilderment. “What on earth is making her so merry?” Cherry asked Arthur curiously.
    Arthur shrugged. “I wish I knew,” he muttered.
    After the butler had left, Anne caught her breath with an effort and endeavored to explain. “Forgive me, but it’s so funny ! I had determined, years ago, that when a gentleman made me an offer, the one thing I would never say was ‘Oh, sir, this is so sudden!’ And just now, quite without realizing it, I said those very words !”
    Cherry giggled briefly, but then her mouth dropped open. “But … but that means …!” She looked from one to the other with shining eyes. “Arthur! You’ve offered for her!”
    Arthur nodded, smiling at Cherry’s delight. “Yes, but I’ve not yet had an answer, beyond ‘this is so sudden,’ of course.”
    â€œOh, dear,” Cherry said in chagrin, “I came in too soon! I’ll go out again and give you more time—”
    â€œNo, Cherry, it’s not necessary,” Anne cut in. “Please stay and serve Arthur some tea.”
    â€œBut … Anne, are you not going to give him an answer?” Cherry asked, perplexed.
    â€œNo. I must go home and think. Arthur knows how much I wish to marry him, don’t you Arthur? But your plan is so unexpected that it leaves me quite astounded. I must have time to consider it calmly …”
    â€œWhat plan?” Cherry asked, curiosity taking precedence over good manners.
    â€œArthur will tell you about it over tea. I must go. Don’t disturb yourself, Cherry. The butler will get my things.” And giving Arthur’s hand an affectionate squeeze, she went to the door. “Tell me, Arthur,” she inquired, pausing in the doorway and turning to him, “would you not prefer to be married and return here in London if it could be arranged, rather than go off to Shropshire?”
    â€œI … suppose so,” he replied hesitantly, “if it is what you would wish. But I don’t see how such a plan can be contrived …”
    â€œNeither do I. That’s what I want to think about,” Anne said. With a wave of her hand to Cherry, who stood gaping after her, Anne took her leave.
    â€œShropshire? What is she talking about?” Cherry asked, as she took a seat at the tea tray and began to pour.
    Arthur, bemused and discontent with the outcome of his tête-à-tête, felt the need to unburden his heart to an understanding friend, but his masculine reticence made him hesitate. However, when two comforting cups of tea had been drunk, and when Cherry had taken a place beside him on the sofa and fixed her wide eyes on him with their expression of compassionate concern, he found himself confiding the whole of his conversation with his beloved into her eager ear. She nodded and smiled encouragingly every time he sighed; she was most heartening when she heard his plans and most flatteringly impressed by his hitherto-unexpressed ambitions to enter the clergy. When he at last took his leave, his step was jaunty and his head high. It had been, he decided, a most satisfactory morning.

Six
    The short walk back home did not give Anne much time to think, but it was long enough for her to realize that she was completely unsuited to be a vicar’s wife and to live in dowdy obscurity in a cottage in Shropshire. Her reaction, she knew, was ignoble and mean-spirited. Cherry would be