The Frost Fair

    There were lots of people passing by and he felt in no danger. He leaned over and peered into the darkness. It was a grave mistake. A hand was suddenly placed in the middle of his back to give him a hard shove. Christopher lost his balance. Unable to stop himself, he tumbled helplessly through space until he hit the cold, swirling, merciless water with a loud splash.

Chapter Eleven

    Susan Cheever was not looking forward to receiving the guests at Serle Court. Since her sister's avowed objective had been to find her a husband, she shuddered at the notion that she would be on display. Her first thought was to plead illness and avoid meeting any of the visitors but Brilliana would not be tricked that way. Nor could Susan wear her oldest and least appealing dress as a form of armour to ward off any romantic interest in her. Brilliana insisted on going through her sister's wardrobe to choose the attire that would accentuate her best features. By the time that the first coach rolled up to Serle Court that evening, Susan was dressed in her finery and gritting her teeth.

    'Smile,' urged her sister. 'Men like to see you smile.'

    'Then they'll need to give me something to smile about, Brilliana.'

    'You are being perverse.'

    'I'm being serious. I do not intend to smile for the sake of it.'

    'It's what men expect of us.'

    "Then their expectations will not be met.'

    'Susan!'

    'This was your idea, Brilliana, and not mine.'

    'Need you be so obstructive?'

    'And why invite them this evening?' asked Susan with exasperation. 'Had they come to dinner, they would be on their way home by now and I'd feel safe.'

    'Safe from what? Meeting someone worthy of you at last?'

    'That will not happen today, I promise you.'

    'We may surprise you. As for my choice of time, the reason I wanted them here this evening was that Mrs Cardinal will be too weary to return home in her coach and will therefore have to spend the night here.' Brilliana gave a knowing grin. 'And so, of course, will her son.'

    Susan groaned. 'I'm to endure their company for breakfast as well?'

    'It will give you the opportunity to get to know them better.'

    'I may sleep until late tomorrow.'

    Brilliana was resolute. 'No, you will not!'

    Her face blossomed into a regal smile as the first guests came through the front door. They were four in number and swiftly followed by an elderly married couple from a neighbouring estate. They all received a cordial welcome from Brilliana and her husband. Susan, too, was uniformly polite. Looking around the visitors, she saw that they were exactly what she had anticipated. They were, in their various ways, alternative versions of her sister and her brother-in-law. The latecomers most certainly were not. When Jack Cardinal and his mother finally arrived in a flurry of apologies, Susan was taken aback. The woman caught her eye first. She was an obese lady with a surging bosom, bulging cheeks and tiny pig-like eyes. Hanging on her son's arm for support, she explained that they had been delayed because she had had one of her attacks. Susan was amazed. Mrs Cardinal looked uncommonly healthy to her.

    Jack Cardinal was the real surprise. He was a neat, compact man of medium height with a shock of black hair that rose up from a high-domed forehead. Only his mother could have deemed him handsome. His face was craggy in repose and slightly comic when he was animated. Susan was completely disarmed. Cardinal was no threat to her. If anything, she felt sorry for him. Even at a glance, the man was so burdened by a demanding mother that he looked years older than his true age. When he was introduced to Susan, he was too shy to do more than give her a token bow. She began to relax. The evening might not be as onerous as she had feared.

    It was an hour before she had a conversation alone with Cardinal. Before the meal was served, Brilliana contrived to divert the majority of the guests by inviting them to see the recent portrait of her that hung at the top of the staircase. Serle had been primed to assist Mrs Cardinal up the steps and to listen to the endless litany of her symptoms. Susan found herself in the parlour with Jack Cardinal. He examined the bookshelves.

    'Lancelot has tastes not unlike my own,' he remarked.

    'In what way?'

    'I, too, am fond of poems. I read them to Mother sometimes.'

    'Can she not read them to herself, Mr Cardinal?'

    'Not when her eyes trouble her,' he replied. 'Poor sight is one of her many problems. What about you, Miss Cheever?' he asked, turning to look at her. 'Are you interested in poetry?'

    'I am, sir.'

    'May I know whom you admire?'

    'Many of those you'll find on those same shelves,' said Susan. 'But the poet I revere most is not in my brother-in-law's collection.'

    'And who might that be?'

    'Mr Milton.'

    He was astounded. 'John Milton?'

    'I know of no other.'

    'I'd not have thought he'd appeal to a young lady such as you.'

    'He certainly does not appeal to my sister,' confessed Susan, 'and Lancelot has strong political objections against him. Mr Milton, as you know, was Latin Secretary to the Lord High Protector.'

    "That's what makes him so intriguing, Miss Cheever.'

    'Intriguing?'

    'Poetry transcends political affiliation,' he said solemnly. 'Because I do not agree with a man's politics, I am not unaware of his poetic skills. I take John Milton to be a man of infinite genius. I'm proud to call myself a Royalist but that does not stop me from telling you that Paradise Lost is the finest poem I've ever read.'

    'You are a religious man, I see.'

    'Far from it.'

    'Then wherein lies its appeal?'

    'In its scope, its ambition and its sheer intelligence.'

    'You have surely not read it to your mother.'

    'No,' he replied with a rare smile. 'Mother has no time for John Milton or anyone of his persuasion. She believes that he should have been beheaded as a traitor. That attitude does not put her in the ideal frame of mind for appreciating his work.'

    Susan warmed to him. 'Lancelot tells me that you are a prodigious reader.'

    'I know of no greater pleasure.'

    'What about shooting and fencing? You excel at both, I hear.'

    'They are manly accomplishments and nothing more.'

    'You are too modest, Mr Cardinal. I understand that you are an expert.'

    'Hardly! What has Lancelot been saying about me?'

    'He talked of a duel that you had with Egerton Whitcombe.'

    'Oh, that,' said Cardinal, his face clouding. 'It was a big mistake.'

    'But you were the victor.'