Free Elizabeth Mansfield by The Bartered Bride Page A

me? And what is that you’ve drawn on my head?”
    “It’s a picture of you in your uniform, of course,” the girl explained. “That’s your shako on your head—with the plume, see? And this is your horse.”
    “And a very good horse it is, too,” her uncle laughed, placing her on his shoulders and taking the other child by the hand. “How are you, Greta, my little puss? Do you and your sister stay to tea?”
    “No, they don’t,” Lady Yarrow said firmly. “They only came down to say hello to you. Miss Roffey will take them upstairs in a moment.”
    “Of course they don’t stay to tea,” the dowager Lady Kittridge said dryly. “We can’t afford it.”
    Lady Yarrow turned a questioning pair of eyes to her mother. Eunice Yarrow was a tall, sturdily built woman whose strong features and dark coloring were inherited from her father. She had none of her mother’s delicacy in her form or her manner. Her character could be summed up in one word—blunt. “What do you mean by that, Mama? You sound as if you’ve suddenly entered your dotage.”
    “Not I,” the dowager declared. “It’s your brother whose wits are addled. He says we can’t afford tea!”
    “Robbie!” Lady Yarrow wheeled round to her brother in alarm. “Are things as bad as
that
?”
    Kittridge was, by this time, down on hands and knees giving his nieces a ride on his back. “Perhaps I exaggerated a bit,” he admitted, the sight of his adored nieces having dissipated what was left of his anger. “I was making a point about buying unnecessary silver. I think we can manage to afford some tea for the girls.”
    “Hooray!” shouted Della, clapping her little hands together delightedly. “We’re staying for tea!”
    “No, you’re not,” Lady Yarrow said sharply, lifting the girl from her brother’s back and setting her on her feet. “Our teatime conversation promises to be serious … much too adult for you.”
    Little Greta began to cry in disappointment. “I want tea wiff Uncew Wobit!” she wept, hugging her uncle tightly about the neck.
    Lady Yarrow pulled her from Kittridge’s back. “But you can’t have tea with Uncle Robert, so stop snivelling. You mustn’t behave like a baby, Greta, now that you’re a big girl of three. You may have your tea in the nursery.” She handed the child to the governess. “Take these crybabies upstairs, Miss Roffey. I have a feeling my brother has more important matters on his mind than playing horsey with the children.”
    While the governess herded the girls from the room, Lady Yarrow studied her brother with a knit brow. “Jennings did not have good news, I take it,” she said when the children were gone.
    “No, Eunice, he didn’t,” her brother admitted, getting up and brushing the carpet dust from his knees.
    “Are you badly dipped?”
    “As bad as can be.”
    Eunice expelled a breath. “I’m sorry, Robbie. It was unforgivable of Papa to have done this to you.” She walked thoughtfully to the tea table and picked up the teapot. “I suppose this means that all your dreams for the future are up in smo—Oh! Good God!” She froze in the act of pouring and glanced over at Kittridge with an expression of real pain. “What about
Elinor
! How will all this affect your plans in regard to
her
?”
    “I have no such plans,” Kittridge said shortly.
    “No such plans?” Eunice put down the teapot, fixing a dubious eye on her tight-lipped brother.“Don’t talk fustian to me, Robbie. I’m fully aware that you intended to offer for her … last weekend, I thought. What’s happened?”
    “I learned that I am
persona non grata
in their home. Her parents have taken her to the continent.”
    “Oh,
Robbie
!” his mother cried out, her hands reaching out to him in sympathy.
    “How dreadful!” his sister gasped. “I can hardly believe the Langstons can be so … so mercenary.”
    “It is not mercenary to wish one’s offspring to live in comfort,” Kittridge said, picking up the