Page 46 of A Much Maligned Miss

Caroline tensed, then shook her head. “That would have made me sound an utter fantasist,” she said lightly. “Despite our reputations, young girls are far from credulous, you know.”

“I would have thought such melodrama would be eaten up with a spoon.”

“Oh no, you’re quite wrong there. A girl in my year used to claim her two older sisters treated her like their maid and were terribly jealous of her beauty. The other girls were very hard on her and did not believe a word of it.”

“I take it she was not terribly beautiful,” was Gervaise’s response.

“Well…no,” Caroline admitted.

“And perhaps her older sisters were alumni of the school, so the girls had prior knowledge of their characters.”

“How did you…?”

He shrugged. “It stands to reason, my dear Caroline.” He smothered a yawn. “I think you should have regaled Diana with your woes. What was the worst that could have happened?”

“She might not have believed me,” she replied promptly, “and thought me a frightful liar. Schoolgirls tend to come down pretty hard on self-aggrandizement, you know.”

“Schoolboys too,” he admitted after a pause. “Yes, they might have thought you self-dramatizing, I suppose. But at least that way, she would have been forewarned. You did not even give her a chance.”

Caroline felt strangely stung by his words. “I do not think she would have withstood my mother’s charm, even then,” she responded quietly. “Mama has always been wholly convincing, you know.”

“And so, exit Diana from stage left.”

“Yes. Though not entirely. Her mother takes in boarders, you know, and Edgar rooms with them during term time. We do not correspond or anything, not since she dropped me as a friend, but she writes to my mother at Christmas.”

“Ah yes, I forgot your brother studies law,” Gervaise replied thoughtfully. He frowned. “Someone mentioned a Diana at your mother’s dinner party. I forget now who it was now. No matter. It will come back to me. I wonder if it could have been the same one?”

“Was it my mother? Though in truth, I cannot think why she should make mention of her.”

“It might have been your brother,” Gervaise said, considering.

“Really? That does not seem likely.”

“Why not? If he rooms at her mother’s house, would it be so unusual?”

“Well, Edgar sometimes mentions Mrs. Hipworth and her arthritic knee. She rubs camphor on it, and he does not like the smell. But he never speaks of Diana.” Caroline turned her head to look at Gervaise. “He might be being tactful,” she suggested doubtfully. “Knowing that she used to be my greatest friend.”

“It’s more likely that he is nervous to mention women around your mother for fear of putting her nose out of joint,” he answered dryly. “Your mother seemed quite proprietary when it came to her darling son. Wait, that was it,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Your brother let slip that he had been touring a church in the company of one Diana. Your mother was most put out.”

“Was she?”

“If it had not been for your fortuitous appearance at that point, dearest Edgar would have been for the high jump.”

“And you think the Diana he spoke of was my Diana?” Caroline puzzled aloud. “My former friend, I mean.”

“Why not? I like the idea of saintly Edgar keeping clandestine company. And it does seem suspicious, I must say, that your brother makes a point to never mention his landlady’s daughter. Most unnatural when you think about it.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed slowly. “I suppose it is, though Edgar never really speaks of ladies, except to assure Mama he does not admire them in the slightest. She got the notion last year that he might nurse a tendresse for Blanche Pebmarsh, and he was forced to deny it on several occasions.”

“I’m sure he did,” Gervaise answered wryly. “Most strenuously.”

“How funny it would be, if he does admire Diana,” she pondered.

“I hope the secrets you confided in her were not too damning.”

Caroline considered this. “No, nothing awful.”

“A penchant for the drawing master?” he suggested lightly.