Farthingale Junction

Upon hearing the news, Miriam Cauldwell could scarcely believe that anyone could have mistaken Colonel Prickett for a pheasant. She could not think of two entities more dissimilar, and yet, someone within the hunting party had shot the colonel dead upon his estate, Perfunctory Hall. The very idea that a man with so distinguished a military career could be killed by a neighbor who mistook him for a game bird was too abhorrent for words.

“And the boy to whom it is entailed? What of him?” Great Aunt Lavinia demanded of Mrs. Cauldwell, Miriam’s mother and her only niece.

“The boy is a man; Colonel Prickett’s second cousin, a Mr. Samuel Farthingale.”

“Yes? Well, what of him?”

Miriam bemoaned the listing of Mr. Farthingale’s vital statistics, which everyone seemed to keep repeating for her benefit. The day before the accident, a man from London named after a petticoat would have been fodder for every person in _____shire. Sudden ownership of Perfunctory Hall, however, made him the most handsome man in creation. Unfortunately for Miriam, twenty years of age and still unmarried, Lavinia appeared to see Mr. Farthingale as her last great hope.

“–and is a very successful businessman in his own right.”

“What business is that, Mama?” Miriam asked, with no interest whatsoever in the answer.

“He imports cloth, dear.” said Mrs. Cauldwell.

“Cloth? Mr. Farthingale imports cloth?” cried Miriam. She could not believe it; Mr. Petticoat imported petticoats?

“Ring the bell for tea, dear,” said Mrs. Cauldwell in such a tone as to assure her there would be no sort of merriment concerning the Colonel’s heir.

The first opportunity for society to see Mr. Farthingale was at the funeral. He was pronounced a dignified mourner, and all the more handsome for looking so well in black. He was polite, if a little distant, but that was to be expected after a loss in the family. Most everyone in the county believed he would be married by Christmas. When Epiphany past without a whisper of engagement, necessary measures were taken. Great Aunt Lavinia, dowager Empress of _____shire, would hold a ball at Hammerstone.

Hammerstone was an imposing estate littered with medieval fortifications and the ghosts that supposedly haunted them, and was therefore impossible to make inviting from the exterior. Upon entering, however, the foyer led to what everyone simply called ‘the junction.’ It was here that medieval masonry gave way to neoclassical columns, and Lavinia’s well appointed home truly began.

It was a glorious ball, but Miriam was the only person truly enjoying the evening, for the most important guest had been delayed in London and would either be very late indeed, or not appear at all. Having at least temporarily escaped being paraded about like chattel, Miriam danced, and laughed, and was inadvertently quite charming. Lavinia looked upon it as a terrible waste; What was the point of being witty and gorgeous in front of married men and dour clergy? In the course of the evening it became apparent that Lavinia had taken several glasses beyond prudence, resulting in her telling the Right Reverend Cummings that yes, absolutely, their Lord and Savior would greatly enjoy a good novel.

Miriam had greatly enjoyed that conversation, and felt no remorse for quietly prodding her Great Aunt further into the discussion at the time, for the Reverend was always a good sport, and had a quick wit himself. After, however, it became clear there was no reigning her in now she was begun, and poor Mr. Farthingale had thought it polite to put in an appearance, regardless of the lateness.

“Oh, huzzah! He is come! Miriam! Where are you child? He is come!” but Lavinia did not wait, and made straight for her unsuspecting guest.

“Mr. Petticoat! We were afraid you would not come! How was London? Is your business complete? Of course it is, here you are. And in such a lovely vest! You are a handsome devil, Mr. Petticoat! Where is Miriam? You come with me, sir, we will find her!”

By then she had hold of his sleeve and dragged him across the ballroom. Miriam slipped behind the musicians and made for the foyer before her overly enthusiastic Great Aunt could embarrass the young man any further, but Lavinia spotted her and shouted across the room for all to hear,

“Miriam! Stop at the junction! I’ll bring him to you!”

Miriam could not respond, nor could she disobey, and dutifully waited hiding behind a column.

“Come, sir, this way!” Lavinia shouted as, sleeve in hand, she dragged him back across the ballroom.”

“Yes, um, perhaps I should great the other guests?”

“Other guests, what? No, no, no, to the junction my boy, Petticoat, junction!”