“I saw this pantomime last year,” said Jane after they had entered the Theatre Royal, “and I thought it quite amusing, especially Clown.”
“What of you, Miss Abbott?” asked Mr. Winston. “Do you enjoy pantomimes?”
“I do,” Mildred answered.
“Look there,” Jane whispered to Mildred. “There is Miss Rose. She sees us, and is not at all happy to see Mr. Winston is in our company. You should vex her further by flirting with Mr. Winston.”
Mildred opened her mouth to object, but the words never came out, for she saw Alastair across the room. He had on his arm a most beautiful woman, with golden locks framing a sweet face comprising a charming nose and dainty, rosy lips.
“See there,” said Mr. Grenville, “is that your cousin, Miss Abbott?”
“And I think the woman to be Lady Sophia, daughter of a Duke,” added Mrs. Grenville.
“How lovely she is!” said Jane.
“Are they betrothed yet?” asked Mrs. Grenville.
“I know not,” replied Millie after a difficult swallow. “But I think there is much talk of it.”
“What a grand wedding they must have! How lucky you are, Millie, for certainly you will receive an invitation.”
Alastair and the woman were headed to the boxes and did not seem to see her. Mildred tried not to look up at the balconies where they would be sitting, but during the entire performance, her mind traveled to where her gaze avoided. She pretended to enjoy the pantomime far more than she did. At one point, she gasped in surprise when Clown surprised Harlequin from a trap door. She inadvertently grabbed for the arm of her chair, only to land her hand upon Mr. Winston’s. She blushed. He returned a warm smile.
“I once saw an actor, in the role of Clown, leap from a platform above the stage, rotate in the air, and land on his feet,” Mr. Winston said.
They talked about some of the most daring and comic stunts they had seen, but Mildred admitted that as much as she enjoyed the pantomime, she favored dramas much more.
“Tragedies or comedies?” he asked.
She considered the answer. “What think you?”
“Tragedies.”
“You know me well, Mr. Winston.
“Given I had but two choices, the odds were pretty good for me.”
They shared a laugh.
During the interval, Mr. Winston and Mr. Wiggins offered to purchase lemonade and confections for the women. Shortly after they returned, Jane bid them fetch some fruits, for she wanted to speak with Mildred while they strolled the lobby.
“I think my father would approve of Mr. Wiggins,” Jane confided. “He is a good sort of man, though he is not so rich as my family would wish, but they desire my happiness.”
“How fortunate for you, Jane! I agree that Mr. Wiggins is a fine man, and I would that more parents thought as liberally as your father,” Mildred replied.
“What thinks your father of Mr. Winston?”
“My mother does not consider him—”
“Miss Abbott.”
Mildred felt her heart stop in mid-beat. She turned around to face the Marquess. He bowed coolly to Jane before saying, “May I have a word, Miss Abbott?”
Seeing that the Marquess appeared unhappy, Jane did a quick curtsy and scurried away as if fleeing for her life. Mildred looked for Lady Sophia but did not see her.
“My lord,” Mildred said, “how are you enjoying the—”
He interrupted, “What are you doing in the company of that man?”
Taken aback by his brusque tone, she asked, “What man?”
“That Winston fellow. I knew him at Oxford.”
“He is a friend of the Grenville family.”
“You should avoid his company.”
“Why? He is an amiable and thoughtful gentleman.”
“You thought the same of the Viscount Devon.”
“And I still have no evidence to think otherwise.”
“You have my advice.”
“And why do you advise against Mr. Winston?”
“I do not recall the specifics, but there was some sort of affair involving him and a young woman of little standing.”
“I did not think you easily persuaded by rumors.”
“This was no rumor.”
“It would seem a common accusation of young men at Oxford to have had dalliances, and whatever happened, this was many years ago.”
“I somewhat doubt that he is significantly changed for the better. What transpired spoke to a serious flaw of character.”
“And what was it that transpired?”
“He was not of my year, and I spared it little heed, but as wretched as I am, I did not think highly of him after what I had heard.”
“When you have recalled what had happened or what you had heard, I will hear what you have to say. Till then—”
“Till then, you will not entertain his company.”
She bristled. “You are not my father.”
“I am the one providing your dowry.”
“Which you can dispense with at any time.”
She saw a muscle in his jaw tighten.
“Are you often in his company?”
“You are impertinent, Alastair.”
“He must be attracted to your dowry if he seeks your company.”
She fumed that he would suggest her company was not worth seeking if not for her dowry. “Then he would be no different than every man who seeks me out! And it is your fault for granting me such a dowry.”
He pressed his lips into a grim line before saying, “You invited my involvement with that Haversham fellow. I will approve whomever you wish to marry.”
“And what if I wish to marry Mr. Winston?”
“I would sooner you wed Kittredge, and he is no good for any woman.”
At that moment, the orchestra began, indicating the performance was about to resume.
“There you are, Miss Abbott.” Mr. Winston had approached. Upon seeing Alastair, he made a stiff bow. “Lord Alastair, you may not recall but we were at Oxford together.”
“I do recall, Mr. Winston,” Alastair responded, his face darkening.
A brief and awkward silence followed.
“I think we should take our seats,” Mildred said to Mr. Winston. She made a curtsy to Alastair.
As she and Mr. Winston returned to their seats with the Grenvilles and Wiggins, he observed, “I do not think your cousin pleased to see me.”
“He is cross with everyone,” Mildred answered, her mind half turned to what Alastair had said.
“Perhaps he recalls the less encouraging moments of my time at Oxford. I was more foolish then, frequented one too many taverns and fell in love far too often. There was one young woman in particular. She and I had become exceedingly fond of one another, but, alas, she had no connections, and my family would not approve our marriage. It broke my heart to tell her that we could not marry, and I considered it all quite my fault. She was younger and more naive. The tragedy of it is that she took her own life not long after, and I shall carry the burden of my actions to my grave.”
He lowered his head.
“I am sorry to hear it,” Mildred said, moved by his sadness.
“I should have known better, and been the party of greater responsibility, but I have learned from my mistakes. I am much more careful of falling in love now.”
“That you place the blame upon yourself shows tremendous character,” she praised, and put a hand upon his arm.
He looked at her with gratitude. “I do not deserve your compliments, Miss Abbott. Not on this matter.”
Her heart ached for his pain. Alastair had merely assumed the worst of Mr. Winston, and, given his own shortcomings, he ought not cast stones so readily at others.
Alastair’s attempts to interfere in her life suddenly, when he had made no attempt to see her after Michaelmas, rankled her for reasons she knew not why. She certainly did not appreciate his overbearing manner in forbidding her continued acquaintance with Mr.
Winston.
At the end of the performance, as he was with Lady Sophia, Millie was, to her relief, spared from having to speak with the Marquess again. As her party stood outside awaiting their carriage, Mildred and Mr. Winston chanced to stand a little ways from Wiggins, Jane, and her parents.
“Mr. Winston, Miss Abbott,” greeted Hannah Rose, who had ventured a few steps from her family to greet them. “Miss Abbott, I rarely see you at the theater. What brings you here tonight?”
“The Grenvilles have made it a tradition to see the pantomime at Christmas each year,” Mildred replied. “I am a guest of theirs.”
Miss Rose showed no interest in her answer and had already begun addressing Mr. Winston. “Did you enjoy the pantomime?”
“I did,” Mr. Winston replied politely.
“The view is much better from the boxes. My family has an annual subscription. Perhaps I can persuade my father to extend you an invitation.”
Mr. Winston made no reply. Miss Rose was recalled by her family, for their carriage had arrived.
“Am I ungrateful if I feel relieved that her family has not extended such an invitation?” Mr. Winston asked quietly.
“There may be men who would call you that, for the attentions of Miss Rose are quite coveted,” Mildred said.
“I suppose, but I seek more in a woman than wealth or beauty. My family wishes I were not so particular. They are quite anxious for me to wed.”
“As are mine,” Mildred sighed.
“I think I cannot forbear them longer. At times I have been tempted to simply marry the first woman I see, but I cannot be content with a woman lest I hold her in regard. She must be easy to converse with, like you, and of an easy disposition.”
Mildred was struck with an inspiration. “I dare say, and you may find this presumptuous—ridiculous even—and I will take no offense if you should think it precisely that. But, as you and I are in similar situations, perhaps we could find a solution that would eliminate the pressures we both face.”
His countenance brightened. “I am intrigued, Miss Abbott.”
“As we seem to find each other’s company pleasurable, have no dearth of topics to converse on, share similar sensibilities, perhaps it would not be so farfetched a notion if we were to wed one another.”
“Do you truly think so, Miss Abbott?” he cried.
“I do.”
“And I think we should deal with each other famously! Should I drop to bended knee here?”
“Oh no! That would not do. You ought to speak to my father first.”
“Will he give his consent?”
“He might, if he is not too persuaded by my mother. She wishes me to wed a man of great income.”
“As she should. She wants security for her daughter. But I will have my family write to her to explain that I am more than capable of providing for all that you need and more.”
Mildred felt giddy. She had not expected to find a man as handsome and charming as Mr. Winston who might also be partial to her. Alastair, if he maintained his opinion of Mr. Winston, would not approve the match, but the worst he could do was revoke her dowry, which she had never truly desired from him in the first place.
“I shall come by to speak to your father on Thursday, shall I?”
“Yes, yes.”
Jane called to them then. As they rode the carriage home, Mr. Winston sat opposite Mildred. They exchanged several smiles. The carriage stopped at Mildred’s house first, and Mr. Winston insisted upon walking her to the door.
“Till Thursday,” he said, kissing her hand as a servant opened the door.
“Yes, Thursday,” said Mildred, a little breathless. “Good night, Mr. Winston.”
“How was the pantomime?” Mr. Abbott asked when the Grenville carriage had departed.
“Amusing,”
“Is that all?”
“The costumes were brilliantly colorful, and the actress playing Columbine was quite talented in her role.”
She spoke with calm, but inside she was hardly serene. Alastair may not approve of Mr. Winston, but Mr. Winston was her best chance for matrimonial bliss. Mr. Winston could have wooed the willing Miss Rose, but he had always chosen different company, and Mildred believed the man had a genuine interest for her. She could hardly wait for Thursday.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I KNEW GEORGE WINSTON well during our time at Oxford,” said the gentleman, Henry Stanton. He and Alastair stood at the billiard table at one of the gentlemen’s clubs on the Strand. “But I have not been in contact with him since then.”
“If you do not deem it too prying, I should like to hear all that you know of him,” said Alastair.
Stanton aimed his cue stick at one of the billiard balls. “I considered him a good friend at the time, but we parted ways after an unfortunate affair.”
“I recall some matter with a young woman, Miss Jones. I would say he took her maidenhead, but I think his involvement entailed far worse.”
“Yes. There was quite the scene, for she had come to the campus in search of him and, finding him on one of the lawns, proceeded to speak to him before no small number of persons. She was not a person of much consequence but very pretty. George had lain with her a few times, and it led to her being with child. She came to plead for his assistance, for her family had thrown her out.”
Alastair watched the ball strike a skittle. “Was it certain the child was his?”
“The lass was a virgin. George complained of the copious amount of blood she shed when he took her maidenhead. She fancied herself in love with him, and he with her. I doubt she would have lain with another.”
“I understand that Winston received her rather coldly.”
Stanton nodded and stood aside as Alastair took his turn. “He was, in my humble opinion, surprisingly callous. He responded that she was mistaken. And how dare she impugn his character. It seemed he could not rid himself of her presence fast enough. He spoke with such vitriol, and the poor thing looked so devastated, I would have intervened had I no loyalty to George at the time. I approached her afterward and offered what money I had on me. I implored George to take some pity upon the creature. He need not marry her, but perhaps he could provide some funding for her. He would not, and claimed that she had entrapped him. Her misery evoked no sympathy from him. A few days later, she leaped off the edge of a cliff to her death.”
“Did he show any remorse for what happened?”
“I cannot say for certain. After I had expressed my disappointment in his actions, he no longer desired my company. I regret that I had not cautioned the young lady against George. He had always talked of marrying an heiress, and I knew his dalliance with the young woman was nothing more than a lark to him.”
“I hope he is a changed man, and that the years have afforded him more wisdom and charity.”
“What I had heard gives me little hope. A mutual acquaintance had mentioned his attempts to woo the daughter of a nabob, but the father deemed him unworthy, for he had no income and lived off an inheritance from his uncle. George had then attempted to seduce the girl into a compromising situation, forcing the father’s hand, but when the family got wind of it, they sent her off to a nunnery. George is charming, to be sure, and amiable company for both sexes. But, upon examination of our time together, there had always been evidence of a selfishness that I had failed to see. Even if he has improved in the years since I have known, had I a daughter, I would not permit her within several yards of him.”
When they had finished the round of billiards, Alastair thanked the man for the game and his time. He left the club and ordered his driver to Cheapside, where the Abbotts lived. If they were not at home, he would wait for them. What he had observed of Millie and Winston last night at the theater did not bode well. And once again she had seemed dismissive of his cautions.
Alastair found the Abbotts at home, and the most surprised and flustered Mrs. Abbott was the first to greet him. She said that Mr. Abbott would be down shortly, as
he was just waking from his nap. When Mildred appeared, equally surprised as her mother to see him, Mrs. Abbott snapped at her daughter to bring tea as quickly as she could.
“Pray, have a seat, your lordship,” Mrs. Abbott bid. “Oh, no! This settee is much more comfortable. I mean to dispose of that one there and replace it.”
Mildred gave him a curious look as she returned with the tea.
“Oh, surely we have better biscuits than these!” Mrs. Abbott exclaimed.
“Alas, we do not,” Mildred replied.
Mrs. Abbott colored. “Well, we shall be sure to add biscuits to our list. Perhaps we have some fruits we can offer his lordship?”
“I require no refreshments. The tea is sufficient,” he said.
Mr. Abbott appeared just as Mildred had finished pouring the tea. When she handed Alastair his cup, their fingers brushed. A blush seemed to rise in her cheeks and she quickly retreated.
“Your lordship,” greeted Mr. Abbott, “you are most welcome in our home, always, but is there something I can assist you with?”
Alastair stared at Mildred as she busied herself adding sugar and milk to her tea. The sugar surprised him, for he had noticed at Edenmoor, she did not take sugar, possibly in protest of the slavery used to provide it.
“Indeed, your presence honors us,” added Mrs. Abbott. “Were you in the neighborhood then?”
Mildred glanced at her mother as if to say that no business would bring the Marquess to Cheapside.
“Forgive my unannounced appearance,” Alastair said, “but I had thought to inquire if the dowry I am bequeathing your daughter will be needed this year?”
“Oh, we had hoped so!” Mrs. Abbott replied. “But Mr. Carleton may not return till spring of next year.”
Alastair noticed Mildred was only half successful in suppressing a grimace. “Mr. Carleton?”
“He is a gentleman engaged in much trade in the West Indies, and alas, he is required there to oversee some troubles.” She looked to her husband. “But we expect that a proposal will be coming upon his return.”
Mildred did not seem to share the excitement of her mother.
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