Perdita Read Free

cheek. “They will make me marry Mr. Croft,” she said in pitiful accents.
    “Indeed they will not. They will let us go to Aunt Maude, as we wanted to in the first place. Brighton will be much gayer than Bath. You’ll see.”
    “No, they won’t. I begged Papa to let me go to Brighton, but he said it would be full of rakes and rattles, and I would fall into mischief. Oh, Moira, what am I to do? Mr. Croft will come around again, preaching of piety and pretending to Papa he is so holy, when I know in my bones he is horrid. It is all Lady Brodie’s doings, shuffling me out of the house, because she hates me.”
    “You must do what your father says, Perdita. It will be all right. We’ll go to Bath next week. One week won’t make much difference.”
    “I am not going back,” she said sullenly. “Let us go to Brighton. This is our chance. Mama’s sister will be able to talk Papa around to letting us stay, once we are there. He really admires Aunt Maude, you know. It is only that he does not want me to go and tell her how horrid his new wife is. That is why he won’t let me go, but once I have gone and told her, then there will be no point in making me come back.”
    “Let me think a moment,” I said, sinking on to a chair. I really felt extremely sorry for her, and apprehensive for her future. Her father had been quite set on the match with Croft. To return might well precipitate a hasty wedding, for while Croft was in the boughs at the moment, he was still interested. Aunt Maude was the best of our relatives, my own cousin as well as Perdita’s aunt. My charge and I are related on the maternal side, which is how I came to be her governess when Mama died. Besides being nice, Maude is quite a strong character. She would give Sir Wilfrid a hard time, if she knew what was afoot. I had written her a letter informing her of Sir Wilfrid’s plans, but she never replied. I could not know whether she had been away on some holiday when it arrived, or whether, as I suspected later, the letter was never posted. I had left it with Sir Wilfrid’s mail in the silver mail salver at home. I could not like to barge in at Brighton if she were away, or unwell. What would we do if she were not there? No, it would be better to stay where we were till we had time to write again and ask Maude if we might come. There would be no trouble at home, in Swindon. They would think we were safely at Bath; for a few days or a week we could con them we were there, as it was not likely Aunt Agatha would rise up from her sickbed to write Sir Wilfrid.
    I outlined my plan to Perdita. She was inordinately pleased. "You must not put too much hope in it, my dear,” I told her. "It is not certain Aunt Maude will be in a position to have us.”
    "If she cannot, I’ll go to Alton’s,” she answered, undaunted. “John is in London for the Season. I can stay with him and his mother.”
    “Your papa will not like your putting up with a bachelor, even if he is a neighbor.”
    “His mother is there. Papa is only afraid I might marry him, but I never would. He is not at all romantic.”
    John Alton was not rich or socially high enough to be eligible for Perdita, whereas Mr. Croft owned an abbey. “What I would do is find some other handsome gentleman to marry. So long as he was rich and preferably noble, Papa would not care in the least.”
    “True, but that can be done from Brighton. We’ll try Aunt Maude first.”
    “Promise me you won’t make me go back,” she pleaded.
    “I shall do what I can. I can’t promise. If your Aunt Maude cannot have us at this time, we must go home, but I shall help you escape Mr. Croft. I promise you that.”
    She looked at me, a half-disappointed, disillusioned look, but in the end had no choice but to accept it. I wrote to Maude, and Perdita left the letter off at the desk while I arranged for our trunks to be unloaded. The carriage must be sent home, to make Sir Wilfrid think we had made contact with Aunt Agatha, as