“Why, madam,” he said, “I have known Mary Sugg since childhood, and surely she is not a young gentlewoman likely to be made the subject of scandal?”
“Scandal can blacken an archangel, nephew. You must not attempt the impossible in life unless, of course, you intend to be improper.”
“Madam!”
“There, there; don’t frown at me, Richard. Can you not see, sir, that you would expose yourself to the jeers and gossipings of your neighbors by indulging in this quixotic sort of kindness? Mary Sugg is ugly, but she is a woman, and ugly women, sir, are often very fascinating. I am surprised that Dr. Sugg consented to the proposal.”
Richard’s lips curled perceptibly.
“To be frank with you, madam,” he retorted, “I think Dr. Sugg is a man of sentiment and of sense. He is concerned for his child’s safety, and his confidence in my honor is a compliment to my house. Why, poor Mary and I used to make daisy chains together in the meadows when we were children, and I can remember wanting her to ride my hobby-horse, and of course she couldn’t,” and Mr. Richard laughed and blushed at the reminiscence.
Aunt Letitia still regarded her nephew with a mournful and prophetic stare.
“My dear Richard,” she said, “I am only attempting to defend you from your own foolhardiness. The house is yours, and of course you can rule it as you think fit. What would your neighbors say if Miss Jilian Hardacre came to live with you before the crowning festival of propriety?”
“That is no parallel, madam.”
“Hey! Then, nephew, go and ask Miss Hardacre to consent to Parson Sugg’s daughter taking up her abode with you. If she displays no objection, then, sir, my opinions are in the air.”