Chapter 7

Several mornings later, Minnie entered the breakfast room with a determined expression upon her face, only to find Cecil's chair empty.

"Good morning, Miss Beebe!" Mrs. Vyse said cheerily.

"Good morning," she replied, only slightly disappointed. "Where is Mr. Vyse?"

"Oh, he had breakfast hours ago," she replied, sipping her tea. "As usual, he's hidden himself away in his library. I doubt we shall see him again till dinner."

Minnie sat in her chair, pouring herself tea with a dismal expression. "I think I'd like to take a walk this morning, before it rains."

Mrs. Vyse turned to face a window, sighing at the precarious state of the weather. "I wish I could join you, but I'm afraid I must call on Miss Greene, Mr. Greene's sister. She's had a terrible cough for several weeks and I thought it would do her good to receive company. Certainly you mustn't come with me if you do not wish to do so."

"Oh," Minnie replied with uncertainty. "I would so love a walk."

"I wouldn't suggest that you go without a companion. It's not that I fear for your safety, but I think you might become lost. And wouldn't that be a misfortune, especially with those clouds forming."

Minnie stared at her plate for several minutes before a small grin crept upon her lips. "Mrs. Vyse, do you think that your son would be willing to accompany me?"

Mrs. Vyse turned her eyes to the young woman, surprised. "Oh… Cecil? Well, I'm afraid that you'll have quite the time convincing him to join you. Obviously it's not a personal slight. He simply does not enjoy leaving the flat unless it is absolutely necessary."

"It's a wonder he isn't sickly," Minnie replied. "Would there be anything inappropriate in my asking him, do you think?"

"No, not at all," she replied after a moment of thought. "If you convince him to humor you, I'm sure there would be nothing inappropriate in it."

It was for this reason that, shortly after breakfast, Minnie checked her appearance in her small mirror and ventured forth towards the library once more. This time, she knocked on the door, in order to avoiding startling him. She still felt that knocking at the library door was a peculiar custom, but nevertheless one that she should adopt.

"Enter," Cecil directed from his large chair in the corner of the room. She quickly did as she was told, entering the room with a fresh smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Vyse," she said brightly.

"Good morning, Miss Beebe," he responded, lowering his novel.

She stepped towards him slowly, glancing at the book, causing him to gently flinch. "Don't worry. I shan't molest you today," she said with a quick burst of laughter. "Really, I can't imagine what came over me. I seemed to have forgotten that you were… you."

"Who else would I be?" he asked, only a little irritable.

"Freddy, perhaps," she replied quietly. "He's the only one I can think of with whom I would ever be that informal. But I feel I must apologize. I realize that I made you quite uncomfortable… It's rather strange, isn't it? Ever since you arrived here, our every encounter has ended in a disaster. It's as though we're destined to offend each other. But I think we should forget all of it and start afresh once more, don't you?"

Quizzically lifting a brow, he flipped a page in his book. "If you wish."

Minnie would not be gotten rid of quite so easily. "It's a lovely day. I think I shall go for a walk."

"Splendid," he responded, lifting the book a little higher.

"I'd be very pleased if you would accompany me," she said bluntly.

At this, he quickly slammed the book down and turned his entire body towards the window. "It's likely to rain. This isn't ideal weather for a walk, Miss Beebe."

"Who ever said it had to be ideal? Come, Cecil. The fresh air would do us both good."

"I hardly ever go for walks," he replied simply, his expression becoming increasingly concerned.

"I believe you wholeheartedly!" she exclaimed. "You're far too pale, if you don't mind me saying so."

"It wouldn't matter if I did," he said, rolling his eyes. His quiet remarks would not stifle her diligence. After several more minutes of cajoling, she eventually persuaded him to place his book to the side and prepare to leave the flat.


Leading Minnie to the opposite side of the street, Cecil immediately switched locations with her, in order to protect her from the approaching motorcars. She watched him contently, amused by his unexpected chivalry. He continually squinted, his eyes not yet used to the glaring sunlight.

"I hope all this light isn't too much for you," she said teasingly.

He glanced at her, uncertain of how to respond. "No, I don't mind the sunlight," he replied, straightening his new gold pince-nez on the bridge of his nose. "It's simply that I prefer the solitude of a small, closed-off room."

"Yes, I know," she said absentmindedly. This reminded her of a letter she had received several days before traveling to London. Despite her family's slight objection, she had corresponded with Lucy Emerson for several years, somewhat formally at the beginning, but eventually growing progressively warmer as the letters continued to be exchanged. She now viewed Lucy as a dear friend and confidante. For this reason, she had told Lucy of her anticipated trip to London, asking her what she should expect to see. To her surprise, Lucy's response had been somewhat apathetic, not so much towards London as towards London society. Regarding the Vyses, she remained purposefully vague and Minnie certainly did not wish to pry. However, when describing them, Cecil in particular, Lucy had written that, "Cecil is the type of gentleman best described as a closed room. He is most likely to keep to himself during your visit and I'm sure that he will not bother you at all, if you do not go out of your way to cross his path." This was all Lucy had to say regarding her former fiancé. Minnie had not thought of Lucy's words again up until this day, as she briskly walked through the streets of London with her reluctant companion. Had she perhaps gone out of her way to cross Cecil's path? It appeared as though she had, for Cecil certainly had not intentionally confronted her at any point since his return to London. Suddenly, a disconcerting idea struck her. She could not understand why it would vex her so very much, but she found herself wondering, worrying that perhaps Cecil found her to be genuinely tiresome and irritating, as his expression often suggested. Her thoughts were suddenly cut off when he unexpectedly turned to look at her.

"You're very quiet," he remarked, scrutinizing her. "It's quite unlike you."

"Is it? I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head disapprovingly. Why on earth was she fretting over such an insignificant thought? Supposing he did find her to be a repulsive irritant, why would it matter so very much to her? It was not as though she had any reason to try to impress him. If anything, she seemed to have been doing everything possible to have the opposite effect on him. Once again, she quieted her thoughts. "My mind is all over the place today, I'm afraid. Oh look!" She pointed towards a small cart of apples on the other side of the street. "You know, I've been craving decent fruit ever since I arrived in London. That's not to say that your mother's fruit is undesirable, but I'm afraid it doesn't compare to that of Surrey." As she began to cross the street, she felt Cecil gently grasp her arm. She looked up at him, astounded. "Cecil, what is it? I'll only be a moment."

He was not looking at her, but seemed to be gazing towards several women approaching them. "Please don't leave me, Mary. I can't stand to have them confront me without a companion."

She turned to see the older women who were slowly approaching them. "Cecil, how very peculiar you're acting! It will only take me a moment. After all, they're your acquaintances. I think you can handle conversing with them long enough for me to purchase an apple." Before he could protest, she had abandoned him.

From the apple cart, Minnie watched with vague interest as Cecil spoke to the ladies. He did not even seem to be feigning a delightful expression. Rather, he remained inexcusably somber, turning his eyes to the sky ever several moments, only speaking when the situation demanded a response. After paying for her fruit, she took a small bite and strolled towards her unfortunate companion, who had never seemed quite so pleased to see her approaching him.

"Mrs. Turner!" Minnie began enthusiastically. "How very good to see you again. We met at your brother-in-law's dinner party several days ago."

"Yes, of course! Delighted to see you again, Miss Beebe," the other woman replied with an artificial smile. "I was just discussing the party with Mr. Vyse. I felt obliged to censure him for never accepting dinner invitations. He seems to be hiding from all of us!"

"Yes, it does seem that Mr. Vyse prefers to keep to himself," Minnie replied, gently taking hold of Cecil's arm. "But I'm quite sure that you shouldn't take it as a slight. Should she, sir?" She glanced up at him with an expectant grin.

Briefly closing his eyes in irritation, he at last turned his attention once more to Mrs. Turner and forced a small smile upon his face. "Certainly not. As Miss Beebe has explained, I am a solitary chap. I'm good for nothing but books, I'm afraid."

"I wouldn't take it that far," Minnie commented. He turned his eyes to her, clearly interested in this comment. "You make an excellent walking companion," she explained with a playful smile.

Uncertain of how to respond, he merely grinned once more and turned his eyes up to the sky. Feeling that the conversation was coming to an awkward halt, Mrs. Turner curtsied to the other two and led her own companions away. "A pleasure, Mr. Vyse. Miss Beebe."

"Good day, Mrs. Turner," Minnie replied, leading Cecil in the opposite direction. They strolled at a slower pace than before as Minnie ate her apple. Her arm remained folded in his own and she was surprised to realize that he did not seem the least bit uncomfortable with this. "There. Was that so very bad?" she asked good-humoredly, as soon as they were far from Mrs. Turner and her friends.

Cecil briefly turned his eyes to see the older women in the distance and immediately grimaced. "Insufferable," he said, fixing his eyes once more on the street ahead of them.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "What makes them so very insufferable?" she asked, intrigued.

"Must I explain?" he asked pompously. "You spoke to her. People like Mrs. Turner are perhaps tolerable if they remain silent, but when conversing with anyone, they prove themselves to be absolutely detestable and vulgar." His response left her speechless. Finally, after several moments of thought, she was able to respond.

"You have very strong opinions, Mr. Vyse," she remarked.

His eyes briefly turned to her, as though he was expecting her to expound on this point in a caustic manner. "I cannot help but feel that perhaps you have something more to say on the matter," he eventually said, curiosity consuming him.

She smiled, amused by his accurate assumption. "Well… Yes, as a matter of fact. I was just thinking… Well, that's really all it is, isn't it? It's your opinion."

He furrowed his brows in consternation. "I beg your pardon?"

"They're very strong opinions, but that doesn't change the fact that they are merely based on your own personal feelings. Not everyone would agree with you regarding Mrs. Turner and her friends. As a matter of fact, many people would feel quite differently."

"Such as whom?" he quickly responded, unable to hide the fact that he was feeling quite offended.

"Such as me!" she responded boldly, no longer feeling obliged to trudge lightly on the matter. "I feel quite differently, Cecil. Certainly Mrs. Turner is not a friend of mine. But I would never call her detestable. Your language is far too strong."

"How could you not find Mrs. Turner to be loathsome?"

"I don't see why I should. She's a perfectly respectable acquaintance. Perhaps she's not as brilliant as yourself." He immediately caught the sarcasm in her tone. "But that's hardly a reason to detest the poor woman. I think that you're being much too judgmental. She was kind enough to approach you, despite the fact that you have slighted her on innumerable occasions, I'm sure. Yes, Mrs. Turner is an acceptable acquaintance. I see no reason for you to snub her, even if she isn't particularly bright."

"You hardly even know her, Mary," he quipped, the condescension rising in his tone.

"Neither do you," she replied, refusing to be intimidated by his self-assurance. "Perhaps if you attended her social gatherings, you would have a valid reason for disliking her. You're far too quick to judge people. Since I arrived, I've seen you immediately pass negative judgment on two people."

"Two?" he asked, turning to her with deep interest. "Mrs. Turner would obviously be one. Who was the other detestable creature?"

"I was the other," she responded, grinning with cruel satisfaction at the reaction her answer provoked and immediately continuing with her explanation before he could object. "You make it seem as though you hate everyone, Cecil. You would rather engulf yourself in books and forget that other people exist than actually interact with someone, I think. You seem to pride yourself on your ability to keep everyone at a cold distance." As soon as she said this, she could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to look at him. Their walk continued in silence.


She could not have known the effect that this comment had on him. Her words were so eerily similar to those that were spoken to him five years earlier that he felt it could not have been a coincidence. And yet, unless she had specifically spoken to Lucy Honeychurch- that is, Lucy Emerson- about the dissolution of their engagement, how would she have been able to reiterate Lucy's words with such inexplicable accuracy? This idea disconcerted him immensely.

He was the sort who could never know anyone intimately…

These were Lucy's words exactly as she had said them five years prior to Miss Beebe's visit. And these were the words that Miss Beebe (or as she wished to be called, Mary) had summarized precisely, though it appeared that she was unaware that she had done so, for her expression remained just as pleasant as it had been prior to their conversation. He had no way of denying the accuracy of this description. He had once overheard Mr. Beebe describing him to Freddy Honeychurch as a Gothic statue. He thought it a rather bizarre description, especially since, at the time, he had been engaged to Lucy. Far more pressing matters had consumed his attention at the time, but ever since the night that Lucy broke their engagement, memories such as these had haunted Cecil.

Was there really anything wrong with living his life as an ascetic? It appeared to him that this lifestyle suited him and seemed to complement him. Yet it also promoted ridicule from distant acquaintances, as well as every young impulsive woman such as Lucy Emerson and Mary Beebe, who both had adventurous spirits to which he would never be able to relate. But on this particular issue, he could not censure them for differing from him in their natures. He had once felt that the greatest virtue in Lucy had been her mysterious nature, similar to that of a painting by Leonardo da Vinci. But to his utter astonishment, she had proven herself to be anything but ideal (according to his original ideas of what a proper woman should be), and this only seemed to increase her desirability in his eyes. She was no longer mysterious to him and yet his fresh understanding of her character drew him closer to her. Ever since the time of his failed engagement, Cecil had often pondered over his ideals, coming to the conclusion that, for the most part, he had behaved like an absolute fool with Lucy. He could not help his desire to protect her and influence her to the best of his ability. However, he knew that he had failed to appreciate the young woman for what she possessed and, at times, he wondered if this was the main reason she had slipped away from him…

He sighed, most miserably discontented. What on earth had provoked these tormenting memories of Lucy? Ah yes, he thought to himself. Mary Beebe's comment had caused these unpleasant thoughts to run through his head. Glancing at the young lady who presently had her arm held snuggly within his own, he noted that she was considerably different from Lucy. Certainly she was just as pretty as Lucy had been. Perhaps she was somewhat prettier. Not that this really mattered to him. He would judge the girl based on her merit rather than her appearance. She had made it quite clear that she was slightly intelligent and obviously wished for him to acknowledge this fact. He felt that perhaps her pride was too easily hurt. But perhaps this was to be expected. As his mother once commented, he had the unfortunate habit of allowing people to see exactly what he thought of them and generally his thoughts were not flattering to those who received his attention.

With this one seemingly trivial character flaw, Mary seemed to be an overall pleasant sort of child. But she certainly was not a child. Glancing at her bright, pleasant features once more, he could not imagine what made him think of her as a child. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she had been a child when he last saw her, five years prior to her visit. Or perhaps it was due to her unbridled candor and fearless tongue. She certainly was not uncomfortable around him, which was a somewhat refreshing change. This was yet another way that she differed from Lucy, who always seemed to become anxiously quiet whenever they came to any sort of disagreement. Though he could not deny that Lucy had every right to end their engagement, he truly believed that she had done him an injustice by silently enduring his small idiosyncrasies without once confronting him about them until she had already made up her mind to end their romance. If they bothered her so very much, she should have told him so. How else could he have possibly known that she was vexed with him? For this reason, Cecil could not fault Mary for her tactlessness, as much as he wished to do so at times.

If he were to marry (and this absurd idea amused him greatly), he felt it would be absolutely crucial to find a woman whose foremost quality was honesty. Perhaps he would not need a young lady who was quite as honest as Mary Beebe, but he certainly would require a wife with a stronger voice than that of Lucy Emerson. Cecil had heard people refer to him as condescending and pompous on several occasions when they thought he had quit the room. Though he begrudgingly admitted to possessing both of these characteristics, he also believed that he should be credited for having the humility needed to admit that, in order for him to improve himself, he would need to be informed when he was temporarily digressing into his former pretentious habits. For the month, he would have no choice but to rely on Mary to perform this task, which seemed to come quite naturally to her.