The inciting incident, when it began, seemed wholly innocuous—as is the way of such things—or at least as innocuous as any plan of Michael Scott’s could be. A distant cousin of Colonel Scott wrote him a humble missive begging him to find a lady to shepherd the cousin’s daughter into polite society, remarking that the young lady in question had begun to find Lancashire sadly dull for her tastes and offering to defray the costs of bringing her out in London if the Colonel could but find a suitable matron to sponsor her entrance into the ton. Colonel Scott had no particular memory of the cousin in question, but a quick glance at the family Bible and a brief recourse to Lieutenant Schrute’s voluminous memory for the Colonel’s affairs soon relieved that concern, revealing that this particular branch of the family were noted textile manufacturers, with particular lines in leather and woolens, to the tune of several thousand pounds a year. Miss Katy Scott was thus an heiress of some value, as her father’s letter off-handedly mentioned that she was his only heir. Nothing could convince the Colonel but that he should send for her forthwith, and no entreaties on the part of Pamela Beesly, Dwight Schrute, Jim Halpert, or Angela Martin could convince him that it was most wrong to do so without having first arranged (as her father desired) for someone to actually promote her into the ton. After all, Michael was repeatedly heard to say, he looked forward to the day when Jan would smile upon him and then she, as his wife, could most properly nudge her own flesh and blood (by marriage) into the proper parts of society. Upon Pam’s gentle hint that this was perhaps unlikely to occur before Miss Scott would arrive upon the stage, he suggested that perhaps she could take Jan’s place in doing so, a suggestion which Miss Beesly treated with the respect it deserved. This so infuriated the Colonel that he shut himself petulantly into his study, declaiming sulkily that if Jan wouldn’t marry him and Pam wouldn’t do this little thing for him, he’d just have to sponsor Miss Scott himself.
This was most improper, of course, for a gentleman could hardly sponsor a lady into society who was (though related to him in some way) sufficiently distant in blood as to have been unheard of before that day. Nothing could sway the Colonel, however, and as the Dowager Duchess was by no means fully wooed in the two weeks it took for Miss Scott to arrive, it was the unfortunate reality of the case that Colonel Scott would have to stand as sponsor to her, and when Katy stepped off the hired chaise at the Colonel’s apartments that Tuesday there was nothing more to be said about it.
About Miss Katy Scott, however, there was much to be said, and much was said by all who saw her. She was beautiful in the unselfconscious way that country women often are before their exposure to what the vulgar in the Metropolis called the Marriage Mart, fully aware of her own attractiveness but not yet trained to think of that attractiveness as a weapon to be deployed on those around her. Her red hair fell in pretty ringlets around her face, framing it like a Virgin in a pietà, and her symmetrical face peeped out from beneath a most becoming bonnet with an impish smile. Her trim frame was subtly emphasized by the well-cut dress she wore, and in sum the entire effect was such that Lieutenant Schrute, who was the closest by of the house’s occupants upon her approach, was struck near dumb by her appearance. She was, in fact, an Incomparable, and the only element of her ensemble that struck any discordant note from the whole was the extensive array of valises she and her abigail both carried in their arms and the absence of trunks in the back of the vehicle. For, as she said with a laugh to the dumbfounded porter who relieved her of the bags, one could hardly come from a pursemaker’s family and patronize a rival shop!
Her laugh rang like a silver bell into the silence caused by Dwight Schrute’s admiration, and it was as if a spell had been lifted—or more likely, cast. The servants of the house swung into action, the Lieutenant shook himself and invited her in, and the activity of the day returned to its busy bustle after the momentary lull introduced by the arrival of the Incomparable. By the end of the day she had roosted Colonel Scott out of his study, which he had instantly consigned over to her use, taken over the best bedroom in the south wing of the apartments for her own, and managed to do both these things without actually asking for any of them, so strong was the household’s desire to do what they imagined might please her.
The only exception to this general admiration was Pamela Beesly, who saw in Miss Scott a perfectly nice young woman likely to be spoilt by the general indulgence she was being shown. Pam had no particular animosity towards her employer’s young guest, but she did not see why Dwight should go around with that particularly stupid look on his face, nor why Michael should give over to her spaces that he himself had occupied for years, thus forcing her out of her accustomed routine of using the lower parlor for the preparations for the next week’s social schedule due to his need of it as a replacement study. All this she complained to Jim Halpert with a ready will when that worthy encountered her in Upper Grosvenor Street in the company of Miss Martin, and all he could say to it at that time was that her description of Dwight’s face was nothing new to him, but merely an everyday occurrence. At this Miss Martin suddenly recalled the need for herself and Miss Beesly to take a sudden left turn into a shop, depriving them so unfortunately of dear Mr. Halpert’s company, so sorry to be a bother, and Miss Beesly was left to merely bid him (at the Colonel’s request) to dine with them that night in order to introduce him to Miss Scott. There, she intimated, he would See What She Meant.
The gathering that evening was a small affair, consisting primarily of the Colonel’s closer acquaintances, Roy Anderson, whom Michael had found lingering around the place that afternoon, and Kevin, Lord Malone, whom he had run into in the street that day and happened to invite in. Miss Martin was also invited along to make up the numbers on the ladies’ side, especially after (as Pam whispered to Jim upon his arrival) Jan had refused an invitation to such an exclusive event. At dinner both Mr. Halpert and Miss Beesly entertained themselves by exchanging speaking glances across the table as the other gentlemen present fell visibly under Miss Scott’s spell, including the Colonel himself. After dinner the men retired to the smoking room, where the Incomparable was the sole subject of conversation—a conversation that became a little too loud as the gentlemen rejoined the ladies for whist and an informal hop, when Lord Malone could be overheard loudly commenting that Miss Scott, with her red curls, was “Miss Beesly the Second, or more accurately, Miss Beesly Improved.” Pam’s mortification at this was only intensified to hear her own fiancée chime in in agreement, suggesting that if he were not already engaged for the first dance with Miss Beesly he would no doubt have pursued Miss Scott instead. Miss Beesly curtly informed, or rather reminded, him that he was not merely engaged for a dance but for marriage, and that he had best remember the fact. He shrugged this off, and indeed Miss Scott had her first dance with her cousin, who as host had claimed the honour for himself.
During the course of the dancing, Jim found himself leaning against the wall next to Lieutenant Schrute, whose eyes never left the Incomparable. Jim entertained himself by suggesting quietly that while the ignorant imagined that a dance was the way to a young lady’s heart, any truly worthy woman was most interested in solid, material benefits, and that therefore the true way to Miss Scott’s admiration would be to be seen to acquire one of her family’s bags for oneself, thus demonstrating both a sincere regard for her family’s workmanship and a solid interest in advancing her father’s profits. The Lieutenant was much struck by this observation, but demurred that he believed that the Scott family produced bags that were primarily fashionable for women at the moment. Jim admitted himself shocked that Dwight had not yet heard of the new fashion of male valise-carrying, averring that he himself had seen the pinks of the ton carrying large purses on their persons all week. The lieutenant was much rallied by this consideration, and resolved to put the plan into action forthwith.
No sooner had Jim disentangled himself from this conversation than he went in search of Miss Beesly to inform her of it. He found her in a rather foul mood, but the news of his successful imposition on the lieutenant perked up her spirits as he had known it would. Unfortunately, Mr. Anderson took that moment to address himself to Miss Beesly and chivvy her into better spirits towards himself, taking her by the hand and addressing himself to her in accents of deep devotion alternating with playful animadversions on her own loveliness. This sight was so deeply distasteful to Mr. Halpert that he made his excuses from their company and sought out some other companionship—finding it, as fortune would have it, in the conversation of Miss Scott, who had noticed that he alone of the male company present had not yet solicited her to dance or indeed to any pastime. She asked coquettishly if he meant to ignore her all night, and he, looking over her head to see Mr. Anderson and Miss Beesly taking their leave of their host together, Pam’s arm wrapped around Roy’s sleeve, conveyed the impression that nothing could be further from his mind. Indeed, he lead her into the next two dances, a country dance and a more scandalous waltz, and at the end of it she internally pronounced herself most satisfied with his attentions. He begged leave to call upon her again, and she gave it most freely—though as he had by now the customary run of the house even in the Colonel’s absence this was perhaps less significant than she imagined it to be.
That night the Incomparable went to bed quite satisfied with her first day in London, and as she fell asleep it was a slightly quirked smile and a mop of almost controlled hair that flashed into her mind. The possessor of that head of hair, however, found it most difficult to fall asleep, and when he did it was a very different set of curls that occupied his dreams.
