Free High Spirits at Harroweby by Mary Chase Comstock

close to her cousin ’s bed. Fumbling about on the nightstand, she felt numerous bottles of medication, a basin and pitcher, several wadded handkerchiefs, a vial of salts, various snuffboxes, but no candle. This would never do.
    Selinda had just decided to go to the window to draw the curtains when her arm was suddenly grasped and she found herself pulled precipitously down into the depths of Rupert ’s bed. Caught abruptly off balance, Selinda was quite unable to prevent herself from landing in an ungainly heap directly on top of her cousin’s generous midsection with a resounding plop.
    Rupert immediately let forth a stifled gasp, sounding not unlike a despondent teakettle, but he did not loosen his hold on her in the least. As Selinda felt herself being pulled inexorably towards his bulk, she realized she was in a struggle, not for life or death, but for a life worth living or a fate worse than death. As Selinda labored to right herself, she could feel the moist heat of his whisper on the back of her neck, “Here, let me help you, little cousin.” Then, as he pretended to support her back, he allowed his other hand to stray to her bosom.
    Selinda, beside herself with outrage, could only flail about for she dared not cry out: to raise the house would only bring witnesses to this wretched situation and guarantee beyond all salvation a hastily arranged wedding. Should that monstrous disaster come about, her own fate and that of her little sister would be immediately sealed. Silently, therefore, she struggle d on, gritting her teeth, all the while shuddering against the steady progress being made towards her demise.
    After several moments of strained concentration, Rupert had succeeded in undoing most of Selinda ’s tapes and buttons. Silently he cursed his mother’s unfortunate strictures on his cousin’s dress. He was so close to his mark, but Selinda’s squirming, enticing as it was, hindered his progress till he was ready to scream with frustration and annoyance. Finally, another button gave way and he had just begun to attack the last when he felt himself suddenly doused with a shocking cascade of ice-cold water. Sputtering with astonishment, he momentarily loosed his hold, and Selinda promptly seized this opportunity to spring from, the bed and run from the room, clutching her gown about her as best she could.
    Rupert shuddered and shook himself violently. How on earth, he wondered with bad-tempered incredulity, had the little vixen managed to reach the pitcher? He was sure she could not have touched it with her hands. She must have hooked the handle with a foot—Gads! The girl m ust be a contortionist! Shuddering with rage and cold, he scowled into the darkness.
    The flirtations in which Rupert had jealously watched his luscious cousin engage on the previous night had seriously disarranged his sleep. In the fitful predawn hours he had, therefore, plotted to maneuver the unsuspecting girl into his bed for the sake of a quick compromise of her virtue and appropriation of her fortune, neatly putting her out of the way of other rivals. Having the wind knocked out of him and receiving an unseasonal ablution, however, was not a part of that plan.
    Perhaps, he reflected with a damp shudder, he should have enlisted his mother’s aid in this scheme. Certainly, if she could have been on hand to surprise them in the midst of entanglement, he would have been on his way in the morning to post the banns. But no, he reconsidered grimly, it was best to keep the old harridan at arm’s length. She was getting altogether too managing these days.
    After all, if their plan worked, the estate would fall to him as Selinda ’s husband. Then his mother could be sent to Bridewell for aught he cared. In fact, that might be just the ticket, he told himself as he began to towel his person meditatively.
    Yes, he smiled, the Snipe could be bought off and sent on her way. Mater committed to a silent keeper with a stout truncheon, and a few