established that she did not wish to sell the land.”
“True. She does not wish to sell it and she has no need to sell it. Now we have to decide how to convince her to sell it, all the same.”
“You know, I think your mind has snapped!”
“Not at all. I am set on having that piece of property. Tell me about Miss Easterly-Cummings. What does she do? Who lives in the house with her? Is she a recluse? Yesterday you called her the source of all good works in the neighborhood. What did you mean?”
Sir Penrith paced up and down the room for a while before speaking. “I won’t have you harass her, old fellow. She’s a family friend—my sister Maria’s boon companion, a few years back. And though Selina is an oddity these days, you should have seen her when she was younger. Sparkling with vitality, full of fun, dressed to the nines. Outshone anyone else in the area. A bit after her father died, all that changed. She stopped attending parties, very seldom came to call, stayed mostly at Shalbrook. But she is not inactive. Her interests simply seemed to alter. In many ways your assumption yesterday was correct. Oh, not that she lords it over the lesser folk and dispenses moral platitudes. Her father was active in the community— first to employ new methods of farming, supported the local charity school, saw that the indigent were employed on his estate, whether he really had work for them or not. Selina has taken over those responsibilities, and more.”
“I don’t suppose there was ever any question of her marrying, considering the way she dresses,” Rushton mused.
“Well, there you are wrong. Before her father died, she and young Benedict were thought to be planning a match of it. But Benedict had joined up and was off in the Peninsula. When he returned, nothing came of it, and that was a few years ago. Lord, she was the belle of all the assemblies when she was eighteen. If her father hadn’t died, she would probably have had a London Season, and I don’t doubt it would have been very successful. As to that, my mother offered to bring her out when the mourning period was past, but Selina refused.”
“And she lives alone in that mausoleum?”
“No, she has a young cousin living with her. A boy of fifteen or sixteen, I should think. No companion any longer, but an army of servants. She’s as good as her father was about seeing that there’s no one on the poor roles, and supplying aid to the needy and sick. I won’t have you harass her,” he repeated.
“I don’t harass girls,” Rushton said bitterly.
“I say,” Sir Penrith protested, “I didn’t mean that you would purposely do so. It’s just... well, Selina is not a neighborhood joke, or anything of that nature. She’s respected, you see, in spite of her.. . oddities. Everyone sort of looks out for her. No, that is not precisely what I mean, because she’s perfectly capable of managing for herself.”
“She’s the good fairy hereabouts,” Rushton suggested.
“Oh, it’s more than that. She’s our own special achievement… No…Well, dash it, we’re all fond of her.”
“Like the village idiot.”
Sir Penrith turned blazing eyes on his friend. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with Selina’s intellect. And I for one do not believe the theory that she was emotionally disturbed by her father’s death. Or that of her other relations. A whole pile of them were killed in a coaching accident on their way here to Mr. Easterly-Cummings’ funeral. Very shocking, bound to be! But Selina has all her wits about her. And she didn’t stay in mourning longer than usual. Well, as to that, it’s a little hard to say, because after then she began to dress like she does now. But there was none of that hair-tearing, weepy-eyed grief about her. Didn’t throw herself in the grave, or bring flowers to the tombstone every day. You know the kind of thing I mean.”
“Yes.”
“What I mean to say is... Well, she’s just like everybody else,
Under An English Heaven (v1.1)