An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Twenty-Six: Terra Incognita

It was convenient for Grace to be engaged to James over the winter. She was still not convinced she wished to marry him — she was not entirely sure what she wished — but she enjoyed being courted by him, if it could be called that. It started strangely, with stumbling, uncertain conversation, as though the gilt had worn off his silver tongue. It was probably not helped by the fact that for several weeks they had no chance to be alone. Mrs Follet made sure of that. The little sitting room at the front of the house was shut up — not comfortable for guests, Mrs Follet declared — and Grace received James in the drawing room where it always seemed that Emma was practicing piano or Alice was reading a novel or Mrs Follet was just sitting down to tea. A few times, James suggested a walk, but Mrs Follet always fretted about the rain being too heavy or invented errands for Alice and Emma to run that would see them walking the same way.

At last, Grace brought the matter up with her mother.

"We are engaged," she said, one morning after James had left. "Engaged couples are normally granted a little privacy."

"I don't mean to intrude," Mrs Follet protested, "but, my dear, I do worry — a man who comes to call in his dressing gown..."

"That was only once," Grace said. "He has always been properly dressed since."

Indeed, she was beginning to see in James's dress shades of the man she had known from a distance for many years. No pink waistcoats made an appearance, but nor was he dressed in winter drab. Indigo velvet and copper-coloured silk were more likely. He was always freshly shaved too, and smelling of cedar-oil soap.

"Y-yes..." Mrs Follet said, hesitatingly. "I had noticed that." A thoughtful pause. "He does go to rather a lot of effort for you, doesn't he? I remember Robert Langley used to cinch himself into twenty-six-inch waistcoats when he came to call on my sister. He couldn't sit down. She was ever so impressed." Mrs Follet sighed. "Your father never did such a thing for me. He was too sensible. He knew I would say yes."

It pleased Grace to think that James's effort was for her. She looked away to hide her smile. "I've already said yes, Mama. You might let us have a little privacy."

"I didn't like the shut door either," Mrs Follet said, a quaver coming into her voice as always when she tried to be firm. "Not that I don't trust him, my dear. I do believe he really cares for you. But... sometimes that makes a man do... unwise things."

Grace blushed. "It was only a kiss, Mother."

"Behind a shut door." Mrs Follet was pink too. "It's not that I don't want you to marry him, Grace. I'm really ever so happy the two of you made up. But I do want you to be careful. Even engagement does not protect against all scandal."

"I'll be careful," Grace said. "I won't shut the door again. But, please, let us have a little space."

The next time James came to visit, Mrs Follet made a conspicuous excuse to leave the drawing room. James looked perplexedly after her.

"That's new," he said. "Have I frightened her?"

"She's giving us some privacy," Grace said. "We're not to shut the door."

"Kind of her." But James didn't sit down, or even come near Grace. He moved about the room instead, fiddling with the miscellany of everyday objects that lay about it. "My father's got sciatica again," he announced, rather indifferently, as he flipped through the music sheets that lay on top of the piano.

"Is he alright?"

"He's in pain, but no danger. I don't think he'd mind a call, if you can put up with his temper." James picked up a bowl of potpourri and sniffed it. "I couldn't."