Elizabeth Mansfield Read Free

lackluster brown. Blast Ainsworth, she thought, and blast this rain!
    To make matters worse, with the rain had come the persistent Percy Greenway. Now she had to put up with another awkward interview—a repetition of his tedious marriage offers. It was the last straw!
    Percy came up behind her. "I've written a poem this time," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps the wording will make my addresses more appealing."
    She turned and faced him, impatience battling with pity within her. She had no wish to cause him pain.
    He was an old friend, after all. His family estate marched with hers on the north border. They'd been playmates through all their childhood. She, having no brothers or sisters, had been grateful to have him as a companion. But after he'd gone off to school and then to Cambridge (from which he'd been sent down after only a year), he'd returned a different fellow—more shallow and trivial than she remembered. Though tall and fairly presentable in appearance, he'd turned into a veritable fop. The high points of his collar, the shocking colors of his waistcoat, the overabundant curls of his hair were absurd enough to dismay her, but his conversation was worse. It was filled with the latest on-dits and gossip of the London ton, proving what a fribble he'd become. She took no pleasure in his company these days. But he seemed not to notice the change in her attitude toward him. How, she wondered, can I make him understand?
    She shook his hand from her shoulder. "Putting the wording into rhyme will make not the slightest difference," she told him bluntly.
    He stepped back, offended. "How can you tell if you haven't heard— ? ”
    Kate, weakening at his hurt expression, shrugged in resignation. "Oh, very well," she murmured, "go ahead, if you must. But I assure you my answer will be the same."
    Percy brightened, took her by the hand, and led her back to the sofa. Then he drew in a deep bream, clutched his hands to his breast, and began to declaim:
     
    "My love is of a birth as rare  
    As is for object strange and high;  
    It was begotten by despair—"
     
    Her burst of laughter cut him off. "Upon impossibility," she concluded for him.
    "Oh, damnation!" he cried in chagrin, sinking down on the sofa and dropping his head in his hands. "You knew it!"
    "Everyone who reads poetry knows it," Kate said between gurgles of laughter. "How wonderful that it is you who've written so famous a poem! Is Andrew Marvell your pen name?"
    He glanced over at her, pouting. "How was I to know you knew it? And by heart!"
    "Did you think I would not?" Her laughter dying, she shook her head at him. "Marvell is one of my most favorite poets. And if you'd read it all through you'd have understood his meaning is the opposite of your intention."
    "I did read it through. I memorized the whole. I just didn't understand it."
    "Didn't you? It's lovely, really." She sighed, and her eyes turned misty as she began to recite her favorite lines:
     
    " ‘As lines, so loves oblique may well  
    Themselves in every angle greet,
    But ours, so truly parallel,  
    Though infinite, can never meet.’
     
    You see, my dear, he's saying that love is a longing that can't be fulfilled."
    "Oh, is that what he means?" poor Percy asked in chagrin.
    "Yes. And to try to pass his poetry off as your own is too ridiculous, Percy, even for you. That trick might work with one of your tavern wenches, but not with anyone who reads."
    He scowled in self-disgust. "I should have guessed it wouldn't work. But Kate, don't you realize I'm at my wit's end? I don't know how to convince you to accept me."
    Kate patted his knee. "Give it up, Percy. There is no manner of speech, no rhyme, no rhetoric of any sort that can possibly change my mind."
    "I don't understand you, Kate." He turned to face her squarely. "You're well past the age of consent, are you not?"
    "You know I am."
    "And there's no other fellow who's captured your eye—or your heart, is there?"  
    "No,