Free The Folly by M. C. Beaton Page B

should propose to Minerva.
    Lady Beverley had invited Mr. Cater back to Brookfield House for a cold collation. Miss Trumble had planned to find out as much as she could about the young man, but Lady Beverley was annoyed that Charles had not spoken to her and blamed the presence of the governess. Lady Beverley alwayshad to have someone to blame. And so she gave Miss Trumble several tasks to perform, telling her that her presence was not needed in company. Miss Trumble went in search of Barry.
    “I suppose Mr. Cater will be deemed suitable for Rachel,” she said as Barry straightened up from weeding a flower-bed. “I suppose one cannot expect all the Beverley girls to marry for love.”
    “He seems a pleasant-enough young man, miss. Sugar plantations, I believe.”
    “Rachel is troubled by the fact that he keeps slaves.”
    “They all do, in them parts. One young miss can’t change the way things are done.”
    “No, but she would either need to become hardened to the situation, which I would not like, or become distressed by it. I cannot think Mr. Cater is suitable, and yet he is surely better than some elderly gentleman with a great deal of money, for I cannot see Lady Beverley balking at anyone at all who is in funds.”
    “It amazes me, miss,” said Barry, “that she is not throwing Miss Rachel at Mr. Blackwood’s head.”
    “Ah, that is because my lady plans to wed the general and so secure Mannerling.”
    “Any hope there?”
    “I should not think so. Lady Beverley was once a very great beauty but I do not think she ever had the arts to charm. She probably relied on her beauty and fortune and felt she did not have to do much else.”
    “I did hear tell that Miss Santerton is of outstanding beauty and people are already saying a match is expected.”
    “Perhaps. She is certainly amazingly handsome. But tall, very tall. I always feel such a lady is to be admired from a distance, like a statue. She lacks human qualities. I have written to an old friend for the full story of the Santertons. I will let you know when her reply arrives, although it should be some days because I wrote the letter last night and cannot post it until tomorrow.”
    Barry gave her a sly grin. “It always amazes me, if I may say so, miss, that a lady like yourself would gossip with an old servant like me.”
    “That is because I am an old servant myself.” Miss Trumble gathered her shawl about her shoulders, nodded to him, and walked away.
    As she approached the house, she could hear a burst of laughter from the dining-room. Mr. Cater appeared to be keeping the company well-entertained.
    Only Rachel wondered at Mr. Cater’s conversation. He spoke of Barbados, of the climate, of the flora and fauna, of the tedium of the long sea voyage home, of the plays he had seen in London before travelling to the country, and yet he revealed nothing of his private life, of his family, or of where he originally came from and what had taken him to the other side of the world in the first place.
    But Rachel chided herself on looking for flaws. To marry such a man would mean being well set up for life, of getting away from Mama, of having a household of her own. It would be adventurous to go to the Indies.
    But after the meal, when Mr. Cater asked herto show him the garden, Rachel irritated her mother by promptly suggesting that Belinda and Lizzie should accompany them. She described plants and bushes and all the while her errant thoughts kept straying to Mannerling. Had Charles considered his children if he was thinking of marriage again?
    At that moment, Minerva was entering the drawing-room, holding Mark by one hand and Beth by the other. “We have had such sport,” she cried. “I quite dote on the children. Playing with them makes me feel like a child myself.”
    “Come here to me,” said Charles to the children. “What have you been doing?”
    “Playing with stick and ball,” said Mark in a low voice. Minerva had asked them whether they