THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER FIVE

                               CHAPTER FIVE 

‘Dunstan!’

Lady Constance Dunstan’s rather hawk-like countenance was white with consternation and anger.

    ‘Dunstan! Something must be done!’

    Lord Dunstan looked up from his detailed inspection of the household accounts with a grunt of impatience; his small button-eyes almost invisible within the creases and jowls of his face.

    It was said by those who were placed to know such things, that he was as rich as ten nabobs. While those same neighbours and friends acknowledged that he kept the best table in the county, they also knew him to be frugal and penny-pinching in other matters, supervising the outlay of every half-penny with utmost care.

    ‘Constance, what it is?’ His tone was scratchy. ‘Cannot you see that I am occupied with important matters? For example, the cost of candles for this establishment is ruining me. We must manage with less light.’

    ‘Fiddlesticks!’ Lady Constance’s tall, gaunt frame; some had been unkind in calling her scraggy; quivered in her fine muslin morning gown.

    ‘Madam! I must protest...’

    ‘Fiddlesticks, I say again,’ she cried passionately. ‘There is nothing more important than the future happiness of our daughters. How can you bide there and let them be humiliated?’

    It was the mystery and the bane of her life that she, so slender in her youth, had produced progeny of such lumpy proportions, and concluded it to be some freak of nature.

    Nevertheless, she loved her three daughters dearly. For years she had fought hard for them against the meanness of their father. For they were biddable girls, and what they lacked in form and face they made up for in amiability and good sense.

    Lord Dunstan sighed and threw down his quill.

    ‘Oh, what can they need now?’ he grumbled. ‘The last London Season neigh ruined me. Gowns, fripperies, not to mention the innumerable assemblies I had to pay for. Yet, there they are still unwed; a drain on my dwindling resources.’

    ‘Fiddle-faddle!’ Lady Constance had heard it all before. ‘If last season was not disastrous enough, now they have to face humiliation in their own home.’

    ‘You talk in riddles, madam, and I have no time for it.’

    ‘Eleanor!’ Lady Constance’s voice vibrated with heart-felt emotion. ‘Eleanor has betrayed my hospitality.’

    ‘I think you mean my hospitality, madam. Have I not been brought to penury with an extra mouth to feed?’

    ‘Dunstan, attend me!’ Lady Constance exclaimed shrilly. ‘Eleanor has had the audacity to purloin the affections of Mr Brimbleton from under the very nose of Honoria. Your eldest daughter, my lord, is in acute distress.’

    Lord Dunstan scowled. ‘The devil you say! Ah! I knew taking in strays must be a costly business. How many more of your destitute relative must I succour?’

    ‘Never a one!’ his wife declared stoutly. ‘Eleanor must be got rid of. I am writing to Lady Susan Birkett. Her girls are to be out next season. They need a chaperone. Eleanor will suit them nicely. Let her steal suitors there if she can.’

    ‘But is she not to take Brimbleton?’

    ‘The chit has refused him, and he has taken himself off to Devonshire. Oh! I am in such a dash over it all. Before he set eyes on Eleanor, Brimbleton was about to ask for Honoria, she’s sure of it.’