The Matchmaker's Marriage

by Meg Alexander

  ‘You always look elegant, Aunt.’

  ‘That is because I know my imperfections, Amy. For a woman of my years and build there is nothing for it but to design my gowns myself, having regard to the structure on which they are to appear.’

  Smiling, Amy shook her head.

  ‘But it is true, my love. Naturally I choose the latest silks and brocades, but these flowing garments hide a multitude of sins. They are considered eccentric, I know that well enough, but better that than to look like an overfilled bolster.’

  Amy laughed aloud. ‘You do yourself less than justice, Aunt. What of your wonderful complexion, and your tiny hands and feet?’

  Miss Langrishe grimaced. ‘My hands might have been an asset once, I will admit, but look at them now!’

  Amy glanced down at the red and swollen knuckles and felt a pang of anguish, but she did not let it show. ‘Are they very bad today?’ she asked.

  ‘No worse than usual. The gout comes and goes, as you know. By tomorrow the swelling may have disappeared. Now, enough about my ailments, Amy. Do you see nothing in these books that appeals to you?’

  Amy forced herself to seem enthusiastic. ‘Why, ma’am, there is something on every page, but I have no need of adding to my wardrobe. Father is always so generous to me.’

  ‘And may I too not add to his gifts?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘Mother said that you were not to spoil me, Aunt.’

  ‘But I have no one else to spoil, my love.’ Miss Langrishe laid a gentle hand on Amy’s raven curls. Her voice was wistful. ‘Will you not choose? It would give me so much pleasure…’

  As Amy hesitated she continued, ‘It could be your birthday gift, dearest.’

  Amy frowned in mock expostulation. ‘My birthday is not until next March, ma’am, as well you know.’

  ‘Well then, an early gift for Christmas, perhaps?’

  Laughing, Amy shook her head.

  ‘No, no, you shall not deny me! Now let us look again. See, Amy, is not this evening gown quite beautiful? It is just a simple column in white without any frills or ribands.’

  ‘As always, Aunt, you have perfect taste, but pray look at the material. Every inch of that fine muslin is covered in tiny beads. Some poor girl will have ruined her eyesight stitching them on for days. Besides, it clings so closely that stays would be required beneath it, and you now how I hate those instruments of torture. They might not be so bad without that wooden busk at the front, but I cannot bear to be so constrained. One cannot sit with any comfort.’

  Miss Langrishe glanced enviously at Amy’s slender figure. Then she smiled. ‘Never tell me that you prefer comfort to elegance, my dear? I’ll admit that you have no need of stays, but you must care for fashion as much as any other girl. I’ve seen you in the library, remember, where your interest is not entirely in the books. Confess that you were charmed by the trinkets on display, the brooches and the amber crosses, to say nothing of the gloves and stockings.’

  Amy laughed. ‘I did not know that you were watching me. Of course I like new things. I wish to be a credit to you, after all…’

  ‘You would be so if you were dressed in a sack, my love.’

  ‘I promise to let you know before I am reduced to that sad state,’ Amy teased. ‘Aunt, you cannot have counted the number of my portmanteaux. I shall not find the time to wear more than one-half of my gowns.’

  Miss Langrishe was forced to agree, but she would not be deterred. ‘Well then, if not a gown, what do you say to that delightful bonnet that we saw in Milsom Street this week, the one trimmed with the coquelicot ribands? I should not wear that particular shade of poppy-red myself, but on a young girl with your colouring it would look charmingly. It might have been sold by now, of course, but we could pay a visit to the milliner.’

  ‘Then let us go tomorrow, darling Aunt. For the moment we have other matters to consider. Had we not best let Auguste know that James and Sir William are to dine with us this evening?’

  Miss Langrishe clapped a hand to her brow. The genius in her kitchen produced the finest food to be found in Bath, but he was a gentleman of uncertain temperament. Extra guests at his mistress’s table did not present a problem as long as he had prior notice. Unexpected arrivals would produce a crise des nerfs.

  ‘Thank heavens you reminded me!’ Miss Langrishe said with feeling. ‘Let us summon Auguste. We shall now be eight at table, I believe.’

  Amy raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

  ‘I have asked Colonel Freeman and the Admiral, as well as James, your cousins and Sir William,’ her aunt explained. ‘That, at least, will please Auguste. He has no patience with this silly notion that well-bred women eat only enough to keep a bird alive.’

  Amy giggled. She had stayed in households where the hostess and her female guests had trays sent up to them before they appeared at the dining-table. Thus fortified, they barely touched the various courses offered to the company in general. Auguste scorned this polite fiction. No trays were sent up from his kitchen.

  ‘Chef cannot complain of me,’ she announced. ‘I enjoy his food so much.’

  ‘That is why you are a favourite with him,’ her aunt assured her. ‘Now let us see what he will offer us this evening.’

  The proposed menu needed little adjustment. Confirmed in his belief that young gentlemen had wolves in their bellies, Auguste had prepared a large saddle of mutton earlier in the week, marinating it in sherry, brandy and copious quantities of red wine, together with herbs and spices. That morning he had boned it.

  ‘Not merely mutton, madame,’ he announced proudly. ‘Today I shall stuff it Turkish fashion as some of your guests have travelled in the East.’

  Miss Langrishe smiled. ‘I knew you would not fail me, Auguste. What is the secret of this stuffing?’

  ‘It must please all palates, certainly. There is a trifle of rice and chicken livers, with dried fruits, herbs and onion.’

  ‘It sounds delicious,’ Amy smiled. ‘You are making me feel hungry.’

  ‘Then you must be ready for your nuncheon, Miss Wentworth. However, you will allow for the meal this evening?’

  ‘Indeed I will. I suspect that you have other surprises for us. Is that not so?’

  Auguste bowed. ‘I trust that I shall not disappoint you ladies. You will leave the rest to me, madame?’

  Miss Langrishe nodded happily. ‘You are my right-hand!’ she said as he withdrew. Then she turned to Amy with an apologetic look.

  ‘You must think us overly concerned with food, my dear. It is not merely greed, you know.’

  ‘Of course not, Aunt. To dine well is of the first importance for good health, and after all, we must eat to live. Besides, it is such a civilised pleasure.’

  ‘I am glad that you think so, Amy. I like to see my friends around my table, no matter how simple the fare I offer them.’

  Amy hid her amusement. Her aunt’s establishment was noted more for the excellence and originality of Auguste’s cuisine, rather than for simple fare.

  ‘I wonder how chef came to know that your guests had travelled in the East,’ she said.

  ‘Servants know everything, my love. They have a grapevine of their own. Besides, Colonel Freeman and the Admiral are frequent visitors, as you know. They have both travelled widely.’

  ‘As have James and Sir William, Aunt. Have they known each other long?’

  ‘I believe they were at Oxford together, but they have known each other from their schooldays.’

  ‘I see.’ Amy did not pursue the subject, although she was still troubled by Philippe de Vionnet’s mysterious comment upon her friends. One way or another, she would come at the truth of his words.

  Chapter Five

  She was still preoccupied as she joined her aunt in the salon later that evening to await the arrival of their guests.

  Miss Langrishe held out a hand to draw Amy to her side. ‘My dear, I have been thinking. I have been remiss, I fear.’

  ‘In what way?’


  ‘You will not like it, love, but I believe that we must ask the Skelmersdales to dine.’

  ‘All of them?’ Amy was aghast. ‘Oh, must you invite them, Aunt? Frederick is a pain, and once his mother sets foot within your doors you will never be rid of her. I thought it was the last thing that you wished.’

  ‘I’m aware of the problems, Amy. She is known to be encroaching, but if Charlotte is to spend much time with you we cannot ignore her parents.’

  ‘I suppose not. Have you met Charlotte’s father? He cannot possibly match his wife in unpleasantness.’

  ‘No, he does not. Skelmersdale himself is a quiet man. Theirs was not a love match, you know. It was an arranged marriage.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ Amy’s reply was blunt. ‘Who could love that dreadful creature, or her repellent son?’

  Miss Langrishe laughed. ‘Can’t you be more specific?’ she teased. ‘Pray, don’t disguise your feelings.’

  Her chaffing brought a reluctant smile from Amy. ‘There I go again,’ she mourned. ‘I doubt if I shall ever learn to hold my tongue.’

  ‘When we are alone you may speak out as you wish, my dear, but I know that you will not make a guest feel uncomfortable in my home. It will be just the one occasion, I promise, and we shall invite our friends to leaven the mixture.’

  ‘You mean James and Sir William?’ Amy brightened. ‘That would be splendid, and Charlotte will be so pleased. She feels quite at ease with James, you know.’

  ‘And with Sir William too, I hope, since you are to spend so much time in each other’s company.’ Miss Langrishe turned to greet the two gentlemen under discussion.

  James was, as always, faultlessly dressed. There was nothing of the dandy in his appearance, but his evening attire fitted his huge frame to perfection.

  Beside him, Sir William looked slightly tumbled, and Amy smiled. She guessed correctly that one of the wealthiest men in England must reduce his valet to despair. Some attempt had been made to arrange his cravat in the style known as Mathematical but the wearer had tugged absentmindedly at the intricate folds, reducing them to a crumpled mass. His habit of running his fingers through his hair had quite destroyed the carefully combed appearance of his flowing locks. She smiled fondly upon the oddly assorted pair as they made their way towards her.

  How foolish she had been to place any credence at all in Philippe de Vionnet’s words. These were her friends. She would believe no ill of them.

  James bent with courtly grace to kiss her aunt’s hand. Then he turned to Amy, saluting her in similar fashion.

  Amy was startled by her own reaction. The touch of those warm lips against her flesh had produced a strange sensation.

  She did not understand it, and it made her oddly shy. She turned quickly to Sir William. ‘I hope I see you well, sir?’ she said politely.

  Was it her imagination, or did she see a gleam of amusement in the blue eyes? It was quickly hidden, if it had ever been there. Sir William murmured a few platitudes and resumed his usual impenetrable expression as Colonel Freeman, the Admiral and her cousins were made known to him.

  It was Henry who drew her aside. ‘Dear Lord, is Linden to lead us on this expedition, coz? He don’t look as if he could find his way across the street.’

  ‘You would do better, I suppose?’

  ‘I don’t claim to be a scholar, and you need not snap my head off… Blest if you don’t take a fellow up as soon as he utters a word!’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Of course, if you mean to have him, I’ll say no more.’

  ‘Henry, sometimes I could slap you!’ his cousin said with feeling. ‘For your information, I do not mean to have him, if, by that remark, you are asking whether I hope to wed Sir William. Since you are so set on the idea of marriage, I wonder that you do not try it for yourself.’

  Henry blanched at this dread prospect. ‘Me? Handfasted? Not on your life!’

  Amy hid a smile. ‘Well, then, will you believe that I feel just the same?’

  ‘But—you can’t!’ he objected. ‘Girls must wed, else how are they to live?’

  ‘Aunt Trixie has done well enough,’ Amy reminded him. ‘Now, do stop fussing, Henry. See, the Colonel and Admiral Long have just arrived.’

  The younger members of the party made way for the two elderly gentlemen as they advanced upon their hostess. Their rivalry was of long standing, but neither had, as yet, managed to persuade Miss Langrishe that only in their loving care would she find true happiness.

  The Colonel made his bow and turned to Amy with a roguish smile. ‘Your aunt is in looks tonight, Miss Wentworth, is she not?’

  ‘Of course she is!’ The admiral sounded testy. ‘When was she not the epitome of elegance?’

  Miss Langrishe inclined her head, but Amy saw that her lips were twitching. ‘Now, gentlemen, you must not flatter me,’ she reproved. ‘Here is a young lady who deserves your compliments.’

  ‘Indeed she does! She can only profit from your example, Beatrice.’ The Admiral bowed to Amy, but it was the Colonel who took her hand.

  ‘Charming!’ he murmured. ‘Positively charming! When I look at you, Miss Wentworth, I feel that spring must be on the way.’

  His hostess nodded her agreement. She herself was clad in an overdress of rich, dark green brocade. It owed nothing to the present fashions as it fell from her shoulders at the back with a deep pleat at the neckline. Open at the front, it revealed a quilted skirt in cream, richly embroidered with Indian motifs. Even more eye-catching was the hand-worked stomacher, visible above the skirt, and filling in the garment at the bosom.

  Amy herself was wearing a gown of the palest yellow silk, cut in the fashionable Grecian style. It was caught beneath the bosom with a satin ribbon in the same shade, and she wore a matching bandeau in her hair.

  She blushed as the Admiral continued to shower her with compliments. Then he beckoned to James.

  ‘Well, sir, will you let an old sea-dog cut you out with this young lady?’ he demanded. ‘Bless me, I don’t know what young men are coming to these days! I tell you, Richmond, thirty years ago you would not have stood a chance against me!’

  ‘I should have tried, sir,’ James said gallantly. ‘Indeed, I suspect that I must still do so.’

  The old gentleman tried to hide his pleasure at this graceful speech. He straightened visibly and stroked his beard. ‘You had best believe it,’ he replied. ‘You young bucks can be remiss in your attentions. Must I remind you that only the brave deserve the fair?’

  ‘I hope not, Admiral!’ James was smiling.

  ‘Well then, have you no compliments for Miss Wentworth? I declare…those eyes would slay the most determined bachelor.’

  ‘Miss Wentworth is well aware of my feelings.’

  There was a note in James’s voice which Amy had not heard before. She glanced up in surprise, only to encounter a bland look that told her nothing. James seemed to be behaving oddly. That morning in Sydney Gardens he had not sought her out in his usual friendly way and now he seemed almost anxious to avoid engaging her in conversation. Would he have come to speak to her had the Admiral not called him over?

  She must have done something to annoy him, but what? She could think of nothing. Then she remembered. James must have seen Philippe de Vionnet speaking to her earlier that day. She felt a little spurt of anger. His dislike of the Comte had reached ridiculous proportions. Could it be that James had a guilty conscience? She had no wish to believe it, but it seemed the only explanation. Perhaps the sight of the Frenchman reminded him of deeds that were best forgotten. For the first time a little worm of doubt crept into her mind.

  Beside her she heard a snort of exasperation. ‘Young man, if that is your idea of a compliment I fear there is no hope for you…no hope at all! Come, now, you can do better than that!’

  Amy felt that it was time to intervene. The Admiral meant his ponderous raillery for the best, but it was growing hard to bear. She laid a deprecating hand upon his arm.

  ‘Sir, you are putti
ng me to the blush,’ she whispered. ‘I must tell you that I have known Sir James since I was a child. We understand each other well, without the need for pretty speeches. Those I shall leave to you.’ Her smile was so disarming that he could not take offence. He nodded happily and returned to her aunt’s side.

  ‘Well done, Amy! I see that you have that gentleman wrapped around your fingers.’

  ‘I find him charming,’ she replied in a cold tone. ‘At least he does not treat me like a leper!’ With that parting shot she turned on her heel and moved across the room to join her cousins.

  To her surprise, she found them both engrossed in conversation with Sir William. After a somewhat desultory start, Crispin had hit upon the happy notion of questioning the older man about his work in India.

  ‘I am speaking from a position of ignorance, sir,’ Crispin admitted, ‘but did not Alexander the Great make his way from Macedon into the northern part of the sub-continent?’

  ‘He did. Do I gather that he is one of your heroes, Mr Wentworth?’ Sir William was all attention.

  ‘Well, yes, indeed! Ever since I met the Duke of Wellington I have followed the tactics of certain famous generals, such as Alexander and Napoleon, and Hannibal too, of course.’

  ‘All of them young men when they had their early triumphs,’ Sir William mused. ‘We can learn much about them from digging up the past.’ He eyed his two companions with some amusement. ‘It does lend a certain interest to the work of archaeologists, you know.’

  ‘Yes, indeed!’ Amy had joined the little group. Now she gave her cousins a wicked look. ‘I imagine that archaeology is not all “ferreting about for bones”, as Henry has described it.’

  ‘I say, steady on, coz! It was just a figure of speech, you know. I did not mean to be insulting.’ Henry looked outraged.

  ‘It is a popular misconception,’ Sir William said mildly. ‘I hope to persuade you to change your mind. If you are interested in weaponry, for example, we have had some splendid finds, such as engines of war and magnificent swords…’