Elizabeth Mansfield by Matched Pairs

don’t come out at once, I shall ... I shall do something drastic!”
    Her response was to ignore this dire threat and remain in seclusion for the next two days.
    The following day, however, she emerged from the room in a completely different mood. Her movements were quick and lively, and her eyes glittered with determined animation. She informed her father that she was going out, and out she went, dashing about madly in a whirl of visiting, riding and shopping (each activity requiring a complete change of clothing), and then topping off the day by attending three routs in one evening. When she returned home at four in the morning—an hour at which no properly reared girl would still be awake—her father, who’d been pacing the floor anxiously, attempted a mild admonishment. “I am forced to have to tell you, my girl,” he said as firmly as his mild nature permitted, “that this behavior will not do at all.”
    She glared him, ready to do battle. “I am not a child,” she began belligerently, “a mere child who must be scolded for staying out la—” But all at once her face fell, and she burst into a flood of tears. “Oh, Papa,” she wept, falling upon him, “I’m so m-m-miserable!”
    “Good God!” he exclaimed, shocked at the vehemence of her emotions. “Cleo, my love, all this rodomontade can’t be about that bumpkin Enders, can it?”
    “Yes, it can,” she sobbed, “and it is. He’s broken my heart!”
    “You poor child, I can see that he has, and I’m very sorry for you,” he said, patting her shoulder, “but hearts can be mended, you know.”
    “Yes, b-but how?”
    “I don’t know. Time, I suppose. Time will make you forget him. That’s what they say. What I do know is that you’ll do yourself no good by indulging in this sort of emotional display.”
    “I know. I’ve been very foolish.” She shuddered, gulped down what remained of her tears and sank down on the nearest chair. “But the truth is I don’t wish to forget him. I want him back.”
    “If you wanted him so much,” her father pointed out in the foolish way that parents have, “you shouldn’t have thrown him out.”
    “No, I shouldn’t have,” she agreed glumly. “But what’s done can’t be undone.”
    “Quite. So let’s end this useless discussion and go up to bed. We’ll both feel a good deal better after a proper night’s sleep.”
    “Perhaps you will, but I won’t.” She stood up and followed slowly after her father, who’d headed to the stairway. “Papa, would you be willing to help me win him back?” she asked from the bottom of the stairs.
    He’d reached the first turning, but he paused and looked down at her curiously. “I? What could I do?”
    “Something difficult. Important but difficult. Would you do it?”
    “You know I don’t think much of the fellow...”
    “I know. But you’ll change your mind once you know him better.” She climbed a stair and gazed up at him. “So, what do you say?”
    “I don’t know what to say. What is it you wish me to do?”
    She twisted her fingers together uneasily. “I want you to accompany me to Derbyshire,” she said in a small voice.
    “To Derbyshire? ”His voice was a loud squeal. “Are you considering chasing the fellow? To the country? Have you gone mad? ”
    “I think I have, rather. But the idea is not as mad as you make it sound. He did invite me, once.”
    “What sort of invitation? Did it have a specific date?”
    “Well ... no, but—”
    “Then it wasn’t a true invitation at all. Besides, even if it were, your quarrel would nullify it.”
    “I don’t care,” the girl said with a shrug. “Once we arrive on his doorstep, he’ll have to welcome us. He is a gentleman, after all.”
    “Balderdash!” Lord Smallwood was a mild man, but even he could be pushed too far. He drew himself up to his full height and glared down at her. “I’ve never heard of such a thing! Are you actually suggesting that you wish to engage in a