A Civil Contract

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘Not above half. All the Bath quizzes sit round the walls, staring at one – Brough says they are a set of fusty tabbies, and that Bath is the slowest place on earth.’

  ‘Brough?’ said Adam, surprised. ‘Has he been in Bath? He said nothing to me about it!’

  ‘Yes, he was visiting relations in the neighbourhood. At least, not precisely visiting them, because he stayed at the Christopher, but that was what brought him to Bath.’

  ‘Relations living in the neighbourhood? I wonder who they may be? I had thought I was acquainted with most of his relations, but I never heard of any that lived in Somerset.’

  ‘I don’t know: he didn’t tell us – and I don’t think he liked them much, because he didn’t seem to go out to see them often.’

  By this time Jenny had succeeded in catching Adam’s eye, directing such a dagger-look at him that he blinked. ‘Well, that was agreeable,’ she said, transferring her attention to Lydia. ‘And for how long can Lady Lynton spare you to me? I must write to tell her how very much obliged to her I am.’

  ‘She says I may stay until Charlotte and Lambert go to Bath for Christmas. They mean to spend a night in town, you know, and so they can take me up. Oh, and whatever do you think? – Charlotte is increasing too!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes, she is. Mama had the letter only this week.’

  ‘How pleased she must be!’

  ‘Yes, except that she has a presentiment that Charlotte’s baby will take after Lambert. But I must tell you, Jenny, that she didn’t say anything like that about your baby. She seems to think it will look just like Stephen, though why it should I can’t imagine. However, it has put Mama into such a flow of spirits that I took care not to cast a doubt in the way. And I,’ said Lydia proudly, ‘shall be a double aunt!’

  Jenny soon learned from Adam that very little persuasion had been needed to induce the Dowager to send her youngest loved one to her. The news that Jenny was soon to provide Fontley with an heir had acted powerfully upon her. As little as Jenny herself did she doubt that the child would be a boy; and so delighted was she that she sent a great many solicitous messages to ‘dear little Jenny’, and even forbore to censure her for feeling sickly. Adam delivered as many of these as he could remember, when he went into Jenny’s room to bid her good night; and as soon as Martha had gone away he demanded to know why he had been glared at in the middle of supper. ‘You surely don’t think that Brough is dangling after Lydia?’ he said incredulously.

  ‘Good gracious, Adam, of course I do!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face!’

  ‘But she’s only a baby!’

  ‘Fiddle!’

  ‘Good God! Jenny, I’ll swear she has no such thought in her head!’

  ‘No, not yet,’ she conceded. ‘But you won’t tell me she hasn’t a decided preference for him! As for him, I suppose you think it was for the pleasure of my company that he came here so often when Lydia was with us, and escorted us all about! What’s more, you’ve only to let him know that she’s here, and mark me if he don’t come up to town – to visit some more of his relations, I daresay!’

  He laughed, but looked a little dubious. ‘I shan’t let him know. If you’re right, I don’t think we should encourage it – not yet, before she’s out! I’m positive Mama wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘No, very true, but I fancy he knows that, and don’t mean to pop the question yet. Something he said to me once makes me pretty sure that he knows you and my lady would say it was too soon. You wouldn’t dislike it, would you, Adam, if it did come to pass?’

  ‘Good God, no! I should be delighted.’

  ‘And your mama?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I should think so. The Adversanes are as poor as Church mice, of course, and at the moment Mama’s mind seems to be running on the fabulously wealthy Conquest, but –’

  ‘You don’t mean to tell me she really does wish Lydia to marry him? I thought it was just Lydia’s nonsense! Well, I hope you’ll put your foot down, my lord! The idea! And with a name like that, too!’

  ‘Don’t worry! I shan’t have to,’ he said, laughing. He bent over her to kiss her cheek. ‘I must go, or Martha will give me a dressing for keeping you up till what she calls all hours. Good night, my dear: sleep well!’

  ‘I know I shall. How comfortable it is to have Lydia with us again! Thank you for bringing her: you’re so very kind to me!’

  ‘Am I? Well, you are very kind to me,’ he answered.

  He left her happier than she had been for a long time. It was delightful to have Lydia again, but the chief source of her contentment sprang from Adam’s visit to her room. He was always punctilious in bidding her good night, but he had never before come because he wanted to enjoy a private chat with her. That was a new intimacy, which seemed to bring her closer to him than she had ever been. He was not her lover, but perhaps, she thought, dropping over the edge of sleep, she could become his friend. Friendship might hold no place in a girl’s dreams, but dreams were insubstantial: escapes from reality into the glorious impossible. To consider the likely future was not to dream: it was to look forward; the essence of a dream was to ignore probability and one knew it, even at the height of fancy, when one imagined oneself the beloved of a slim young officer, whose eyes, weary with suffering, held so much kindness, and whose smile was so charming. No thought of friendship had entered plain, plebeian Jenny Chawleigh’s quite hopeless dream; but friendship was not to be despised after all: it was a warm thing, perhaps more durable than love, though falling such a long way short of love. One ought never to dream, thought Jenny drowsily. It was better to look forward, and to picture oneself the trusted confidante of one’s shining knight rather than the object of his romantic adoration. But he wasn’t really a shining knight, she thought, snuggling her cheek into the pillow and sleepily smiling: only her darling Adam, who had to be tempted to his dinner, couldn’t bear to have anything in his room disarranged, and disliked breakfast-table conversation.

  Twenty

  The hope of becoming the repository of Adam’s thoughts receded on the following morning. There were some thoughts he would never share with Jenny; and one was brought to light by Lydia, scanning the Gazette for items of interest while Jenny made tea, and Adam read what his ladies considered to be a very dull article in the Morning Post about the Congress of Vienna. Lydia gave a gasp suddenly, and exclaimed: ‘Well! Oh, no, I don’t believe it! But they wouldn’t publish it if it weren’t true, would they? Well, upon my word!’

  Adam paid no heed; but Jenny said: ‘What don’t you believe, love?’

  ‘Julia Oversley is betrothed! And whoever do you think she is going to marry?’

  Adam’s eyes had lifted quickly; it was he who answered, saying in a level tone: ‘Rockhill, I imagine.’

  ‘Good gracious, did you know, then? But Julia – ! Why, he’s older than Sir Torquil, I daresay! And Julia, of all people –’ She stopped, realizing that she had been surprised into committing a social solecism, and flushed up to the roots of her hair.

  ‘Older, but an even bigger Conquest!’ Adam said lightly.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said, conscience-stricken and subdued.

  He retired again behind the Morning Post. Jenny broke the awkward silence, asking Lydia what she would like to do that day. Nothing more was said about the engagement until Adam rose from the table, when he said in the pleasant, cool voice which set Jenny beyond his barriers: ‘You’ll be writing to Julia, I expect. Say everything from us both that is proper, won’t you?’

  She assented, and he went out of the room, pausing in the doorway to adjure her, with a faint smile, not to let Lydia wear her to death.

  ‘As though I should!’ said Lydia, as the door closed. She looked at Jenny, wanting to discuss the astonishing news, but not quite liking to broach the subject.

  ‘You may say what you choose to me,’ Jenny told her, ‘but don’t talk about it to Adam! He’s bound to feel it, even though he may
have guessed how it would be.’

  ‘I wasn’t perfectly sure that you knew,’ Lydia said, rather shyly.

  ‘Oh, yes! I always knew,’ Jenny replied, with one of her tight smiles. ‘I was very friendly with Julia in those days. I used to watch the way he looked at her. He’d no eyes for anyone else. She told me once I’d stolen him from her: much chance I ever had of doing that! Even had I wished to!’

  ‘Didn’t you? No, I don’t mean that precisely. Didn’t you wish to marry him? I thought –’

  ‘Yes, you thought I wished to marry a man that didn’t want me – was head over ears in love with another woman – just for the pleasure of getting a handle to my name!’ Jenny broke in fiercely. ‘Well, I didn’t! I married him because there was nothing else I could do for him!’ She caught herself up on a hysterical sob, and gave a gasp, almost immediately saying: ‘Oh, I don’t know what’s come over me, talking like that! Don’t heed me! I’ve grown so twitty and nervous, but I don’t mean it! I’ve been in low spirits, you know, and things upset me that ought not to, like Adam’s face just now –’ Her voice shook, but she managed to control it. ‘It’s all nonsense. We go on very comfortably together, I promise you, and – and Adam won’t always feel it as he does now, particularly if it’s not for ever being stirred up, which it won’t be – not if I know Rockhill! I shouldn’t wonder if it turned out very well, that marriage, and I’m sure I hope it may. Rockhill’s no fool, and he’s got very engaging ways – for all you think him in his dotage, love!’

  Lydia said slowly: ‘She can’t have been truly in love with Adam, can she? I mean, if –’

  ‘Goodness knows!’ said Jenny, getting up from the table. ‘There’s no saying – at least, I can’t say! You’ll not repeat anything I’ve said, will you? It was nothing but foolishness!’

  ‘To Adam? No,’ said Lydia, frowning a little. ‘It wouldn’t be of any use, would it? Like Mama telling me how deeply attached to me Sir Torquil is, as if that would make me feel a tendre for him!’

  Jenny smiled rather painfully. ‘No. It wouldn’t be a bit of use. We’ll take a walk to Hookham’s presently, shall we? I want to change my books – but I must write to Julia first. I wonder what the Oversleys feel about this?’

  She was soon to know, for Lady Oversley came to see how she did, two days later, and was easily persuaded to unbosom herself. Her feelings were mixed. She was but human, and it was impossible for her not to exult at her daughter’s triumph; but she was a woman of overflowing sensibility, and it was equally impossible for her not to look on the alliance with dismay. ‘If only I could be sure that she will be happy! Because of course it’s a splendid match, and when I think of all the caps that have been set at Rockhill I can’t help but feel proud! But I wanted Julia to marry for love, just as I did myself, and never have I regretted it, no matter how provoking Oversley may be, which he frequently is, because all men are, particularly when one is married to them! Only one makes allowances – but how, I ask you, Jenny, could one make allowances for a husband one didn’t love? When I think of my precious Julia – her sensibility so exquisite, her nerves so delicate, so easily agitated – Oh, Jenny, my heart misgives me!’

  ‘I thought you might not like it very much, ma’am,’ Jenny said. ‘But it’s my belief Rockhill won’t wound her sensibility in the way a younger man, without the half of his experience, would be bound to, sooner or later.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve thought that too, and, as I told Oversley, there are some girls who are happier with old husbands, who treat them with fatherly indulgence – if you know what I mean?’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Rockhill will do that. If you ask me, ma’am, there’s little he don’t know about handling females!’

  ‘Nothing at all!’ said Lady Oversley, with sudden astringency. ‘When I think of all the mistresses he’s had in keeping, ever since his wife died – and Oversley may believe what he chooses, but what I say is, Once a rake, always a rake! Then, too, I think him a very odd creature. Would you believe it? he knows Julia doesn’t love him! For when he asked Oversley’s permission to address her, Oversley thought it only right to tell him that she was – that there had been a previous attachment, which she hasn’t quite recovered from. And he said, in the coolest way, that he knew all about it! You may imagine how Oversley stared! Julia told him herself, and he seems not to care a button!’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Jenny decidedly. ‘Well, I don’t think he believes she broke her heart over Adam. And he don’t care because he understands her, and doesn’t set a bit of store by it when she flies into one of her ways. Depend upon it, he’ll know how to make her happy!’

  ‘That’s what he told Oversley. I don’t know, and I cannot like his being a widower! Such a dispiriting thing, setting aside the children, which, of course, one can’t do!’

  ‘Good gracious, has he got children!’ exclaimed Jenny.

  ‘Two little girls – though why I say little, when the elder is twelve years of age – ! When I think of my poor Julia, scarcely more than a child herself, trying to be a mother to two great stepdaughters, who will very likely detest her –’

  ‘Not they! they’ll adore her!’ said Jenny. ‘Just like all the younger ones did, at Miss Satterleigh’s. I’ll lay my life they’ll be quarrelling over which of them is to have the pleasure of running an errand for her by the time she’s been married a month!’

  This reflection made Lady Oversley feel rather more cheerful; and she was able, before she left Jenny, to turn her thoughts towards the dress party she was holding in honour of the engagement. It was going to be a splendid function, following a dinner-party to which she was inviting as many of Rockhill’s relations as she could squeeze round her table. As these were extremely numerous, she looked forward to seeing her house crammed to bursting-point: a gratifying state of affairs which yet could not quite compensate her for what she called the peculiar nature of the gathering. ‘For in general, you know, it is the bridegroom’s parents who are the guests of the greatest consequence, but of course Rockhill has none, and when one considers that it is he who is the head of the Edgcott family it is absurd to suppose that one can fall back on his uncle Aubrey! And I must say, Jenny, that although I do his sister Warlingham the justice to own that she has written Julia a very pretty letter, she is years older than I am, which is another thing I cannot like!’

  The intelligence that all Rockhill’s relations were being invited to celebrate his engagement afforded Jenny a satisfaction she did not disclose, and precluded her from feeling any surprise when she received a visit from Brough.

  She and Lydia were alone: a circumstance which his lordship bore with noble equanimity. Jenny saw how his lazy eyes lit up when they fell on Lydia, and hoped that in extending a welcome to her husband’s friend she might not be held to have encouraged his courtship.

  Lydia was unaffectedly glad to see him, exclaiming, as she held out her hand to him: ‘Brough! Well, what a surprise! You didn’t think to find me here, did you? Adam fetched me, to bear Jenny company: isn’t it famous?’

  Yes, Brough thought it the most famous thing that had ever happened; and although he said nothing that went beyond the line of the strictest propriety it seemed very unlikely that he would post back to Leicestershire quite as soon as had been his original intention.

  He had come to town, as Jenny had expected, to attend the Oversleys’ party. He was himself related to Rockhill through his mother, but he said that the Edgcotts were nearly all of the opinion that Rockhill had run mad. ‘Which is what brought me up to town,’ he explained. ‘M’mother thought most of ’em would excuse themselves from attending the party: took it into her head that Rock would need support. All humdudgeon! wouldn’t dare offend Rock, any of ’em! Though they tell me poor old Aubrey Edgcott is as sulky as a bear: made sure he was going to step into Rock’s shoes one day!’

  Brough regarded the alliance with a tolerant eye, but said, in a manner very unflattering to the lovely Miss Oversley, that one man’s meat
was another man’s poison. ‘Shouldn’t like to be married to her myself,’ he said.

  ‘Now, you can’t deny she’ll make a beautiful Marchioness!’ expostulated Jenny.

  ‘Oh, lord, no! I daresay she’ll cut an excellent dash, but she ain’t my notion of a comfortable wife. Never any saying where you’ll find her! might leave her up in the attics, and come home to find her in the cellar. None of my business, however. Where’s Adam, Lady Lynton? I didn’t see him in the club.’

  ‘No, he has gone down to Fontley for a few days,’ she replied.

  He nodded, making no comment; but when she rather reprehensibly left him alone with Lydia presently, he cocked one mobile eyebrow at that damsel, saying: ‘Lynton taking this business ill?’

  She heaved a despondent sigh. ‘Yes, I think he is. He said he had been meaning to go to Fontley this age past, but didn’t like to leave Jenny alone, but I think he went because he couldn’t bear to hear everyone discussing the betrothal wherever he went.’

  ‘Very sensible thing to do,’ said Brough. ‘Wouldn’t do to say so, of course, but it’s my belief he’s well out of that affair. Pity he didn’t take her ladyship with him, and keep her there! She don’t look to be in very plump currant.’

  ‘She isn’t, and I wish he would take her home, for it’s where she wants to be,’ said Lydia. ‘Only Papa Chawleigh is in one of his grand fusses, and thinks she can’t be well anywhere but in London, which, for my part, I think a great piece of nonsense. I told Adam so, but of course he doesn’t heed what I say, because he doesn’t think I know anything about it. Which,’ she added fairly, ‘is perfectly true. But I do know that Jenny is pining to go back to Fontley.’

  Adam might not listen to his sister’s advice, but fortunately for Jenny Lady Nassington took a hand in the affair. On her way to spend several weeks with her eldest married daughter in Sussex, she paused in London for a few days, and called at Lynton House one bleak morning to find Jenny recovering from a fainting-fit in the morning-room, with Lydia and Martha Pinhoe in anxious attendance, and the atmosphere redolent of burned feathers and aromatic salts.