The Matchmaker's Marriage

by Meg Alexander

  He soon had them in the palm of his hand, and Amy sighed with relief. It might be that the coming expedition would prove more successful than she could have hoped. As he launched himself upon his favourite topic, Sir William’s languid manner disappeared. Clearly he was an expert in his subject.

  By the time that they sat down at table, the discussion was in full swing. The subject did not please the Colonel, who threatened to intervene as he led Amy into the dining-room.

  ‘My dear young lady, these matters cannot interest you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Your aunt is accustomed to let the gentlemen have their head, but not when there are other ladies present.’

  ‘I am in full agreement with my aunt, Colonel.’ Amy twinkled at her partner. ‘At least we may learn something. Is that not better than to indulge in gossip for the next few hours?’

  The Colonel shook his head. ‘Very well, ma’am, it shall be as you wish. You modern girls continue to surprise us all.’

  It was clear that he was shocked. As a gentleman of the old school, he expected women to be decorative and biddable. Their function was to run the household and bear children. His passion for the redoubtable Miss Beatrice Langrishe still continued to astonish him. She was a woman of strong opinions who was not afraid to voice them. Her niece, it seemed, was likely to follow in her footsteps. Both ladies were entirely out of the common way, but he supposed that there must be exceptions to every rule.

  Amy determined to charm him out of his dour mood. With a few well-chosen compliments upon his sprightly appearance, a joke or two, and an earnest request for advice upon the best remedies for the gout, he was soon restored to his usual cheerful self.

  ‘No offal, Miss Wentworth,’ he pronounced. ‘That is the way to ward off an attack.’

  ‘None whatever?’

  ‘None, my dear young lady! I have warned your aunt, but I fear she pays no heed. This mutton is delicious, is it not, but pray examine the stuffing. It contains chicken livers, unless I am much mistaken.’

  Amy was tempted to laugh. She had great difficulty in keeping her countenance. ‘It is a very small amount,’ she pleaded. ‘Surely that can do no harm?’

  ‘It will, indeed it will! By tomorrow I shall be fetching over ice from my own ice-house to ease your aunt’s pain.’ He shook his head and turned to reprove his hostess for her folly in ignoring his advice.

  ‘So now you know! Take care, Amy! You have a handsome portion of that deadly stuffing upon your plate. I doubt if you will manage to join us in our excavations. You will be laid up with your foot upon an ice-pack!’

  Amy turned to find that James had his napkin to his mouth. His shoulders were shaking.

  ‘Gout is not amusing,’ she said severely. ‘It is said to be extremely painful.’

  ‘Then you must avoid it at all costs. Shall I signal to the footman to remove your plate?’

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ she hissed. ‘You were not supposed to be eavesdropping.’

  ‘I had little else to do, my dear. I could, of course, have asked for my cloak to protect me from the arctic chill in this part of the dining-room.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do, Amy. Since when have I treated you like a leper?’

  Amy was silent.

  ‘Well, I am waiting for an answer.’ The deep voice was insistent.

  ‘Since this morning, if you must know,’ she ground out at last.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, since you saw me speaking to Philippe de Vionnet. You shall not dictate to me. You have no right to do so.’

  ‘Indeed not, and I am sorry that you should think so ill of me. I merely gave you my opinion of the Comte. It is, of course, entirely up to you whether you care to agree with it or not.’

  His tone was so cool that Amy felt miserable. James looked at her bent head and was seized with a pang of remorse.

  ‘I do not mean to be unfriendly, Amy. If I seemed preoccupied earlier today, it is simply that my thoughts were elsewhere. I was not exactly wool-gathering, you understand. There is much to be done in these next few days.’

  That at least was true. There were labourers to be hired for the initial excavation of Sir William’s chosen site, and they must be men of some intelligence, who could be trained to understand the need for care in removing precious objects. Then they must be provided with spades and trowels, and other materials such as wooden battens for shoring up the sides of trenches. Some provision must be made for the comfort of the ladies, such as a small tent where they might be private and have some protection against inclement weather. There was food to be considered, and transport too.

  James groaned inwardly. Why was he trying to fool himself? The organisation of a dig was second nature to him.

  Amy had been quick to notice a change in him, but he could not tell her the truth. It had come home to him as he watched her speaking to the Comte. Nothing could account for the violence of his reaction except plain, old-fashioned jealousy.

  He was too honest to deny it. Without meaning to, he had fallen deep in love with this spirited girl. She was so very dear to him. In her company, the world seemed a happier place and the people in it more alive. Life was never dull with Amy and laughter was never far away. Her faults he saw only as virtues. Why should she not speak out against injustice, or seek some independence for herself? Now he looked down at her and gave her a loving smile.

  ‘Am I forgiven?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Always!’ Impulsively, Amy laid her hand on his. It was all he could do not to draw it away. Her touch set his pulses racing.

  She must never be allowed to guess at his feelings for her. He had known it from the start. A widower, and almost twice her age? It would never do. Whatever the cost, he would always be her friend, but he could never be more than that.

  ‘Well, sir, I see that you have taken my advice,’ the Admiral teased. ‘But now you go too far. You shall not monopolise Miss Wentworth. Tell me, ma’am, are you looking forward to this coming expedition?’

  ‘Very much indeed. We ladies shall do a little drawing on the site and make notes as we are directed.’

  ‘Well, I see no harm in that.’ The Admiral was pleased to give his approval. ‘Drawing is a most suitable occupation.’

  At that moment Amy chanced to catch Sir William’s eye. It was gleaming with amusement and the discovery surprised her. Clearly, there was more to James’s friend than an exclusive interest in digging up the past. His sense of humour matched her own.

  Now he turned to answer a query from the Colonel.

  ‘Blest if I should know where to set about an excavation,’ that gentleman announced. ‘It cannot be done by chance, I suppose?’

  ‘No, Colonel, but we scholars are fortunate at Oxford. Information is sent to us when discoveries are made. It could be that a farmer has turned up artefacts such as coins or pottery when ploughing.’

  ‘Artefacts?’ Henry was mystified.

  ‘It is a term we use for objects of human workmanship.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You mean those swords and the like that you spoke of earlier…?’

  The Colonel was intrigued. ‘Are there many such sites in this locality?’

  Sir William laughed. ‘Too many, sir. It would take a lifetime to explore them all. We can but touch the fringes.’

  ‘Well, I wish you luck…just so long as you do not send our young ladies back to us covered in freckles. I cannot abide them. They are so unsightly.’

  ‘Don’t fuss, George!’ Miss Langrishe called the Colonel to order. ‘There is always Gowland’s Lotion. Amy shall be covered in it, I promise.’ She rose and signalled to Amy as a ripple of laughter filled the room. ‘Sir William, do you care to make up a table of cards with us this evening?’

  ‘Sadly, ma’am, I have no head for cards. I fear I should disappoint you.’

  ‘Then you have much in common with Amy,’ his hostess said drily. She looked an enquiry at the other young men and it was J
ames who stepped into the breach.

  ‘I shall do my best,’ he promised. ‘You will leave me my shirt, I hope?’

  This sally was much appreciated by the Colonel and Admiral Long. They shared a passion for cards with Miss Langrishe, and played well enough to add a useful sum to their pensions.

  ‘You don’t mind if we play this evening, my dear?’ Miss Langrishe was apologetic as she led Amy into the salon. ‘It is just that it pleases my old friends.’

  ‘What a noble thought, Aunt Trixie!’ Amy teased. ‘It is positively self-denying when you care so little for cards yourself…’

  ‘Mischievous creature! You know me far too well. Even so, my dear, it is not too kind in me to leave you in Sir William’s company, even with your cousins to lighten the load. His conversation is limited, to put it mildly, but you don’t dislike him, do you?’

  ‘Not in the least. I believe him to be one of those rare creatures who does not speak until he has something of interest to say.’ For a moment Amy was lost in thought. ‘There is something about him, you know. I feel he may surprise us yet.’

  ‘Possibly!’ Miss Langrishe patted her hand. It would not do to enlarge upon the desirability of Amy getting to know Sir William better. At the first sign of matchmaking Amy’s hackles would rise. Even so, it could not be denied that Sir William would be a splendid catch. If he seemed somewhat dull and tongue-tied, there were worse qualities to be found in a prospective husband.

  She put the matter from her mind as the gentlemen came to join them. It was time to give her full attention to the cards. A single glance at Amy showed her that she and Sir William were deep in conversation, though Henry and Crispin had disappeared.

  ‘James tells me that there is much to do in planning an excavation,’ Amy began politely. ‘Are your preparations well under way, sir?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Wentworth, but tonight I have discovered that I must remedy a serious omission.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Sadly, I have not laid in a store of Gowland’s Lotion, ma’am. I must do so without delay.’

  Amy’s peal of laughter brought curious glances from the card-players.

  ‘Sir William, I suspect that you are the darkest of dark horses,’ she accused.

  ‘Hush, you must not give away my secrets, Miss Wentworth. I think we understand each other. May I say how pleased I am that you have agreed to join us.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine,’ Amy replied with feeling. ‘I can’t tell you what it means to be allowed to do something useful.’

  ‘And your friend, Miss Skelmersdale? Does she feel the same?’

  ‘I believe she does. She is a quiet person, and rather shy. I meant to thank you earlier. You were so kind to her when she retrieved your papers.’

  Sir William bowed. ‘I was in her debt.’

  Amy was curious. ‘Charlotte did not seem to be shy with you. I have not seen her speak so readily before.’

  ‘I think she felt sorry for me, ma’am.’ Sir William’s tone was solemn and Amy laughed again.

  ‘She had no need to do so, I suspect. Admit it, sir, you like to tease us all by hiding your true nature.’

  ‘Clearly I have not hidden it from you, Miss Wentworth. Do you know Miss Charlotte well?’

  ‘Not very well. I have not been much in her company, that is, until this week…’ Amy blushed, remembering the scene in the Assembly Rooms when she had leapt to Charlotte’s defence.

  ‘Ah, yes!’ Sir William’s eyes were twinkling. ‘James mentioned that you had decided to become her champion.’

  Amy’s colour deepened. ‘You will think me interfering, I suppose, but I could not stand by when she was being publicly humiliated.’

  ‘Nor could anyone of feeling, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, I am so glad that you agree. If I could but get her away from her mamma and safely wed to someone who would care for her—’ Amy’s hand flew to her mouth. Once again she had said more than she intended.

  Sir William did not appear to notice. ‘You have a candidate in mind?’ he asked.

  Amy gave him a long look. ‘Can I trust you, sir? After all, you are James’s closest friend.’

  ‘You see a match there?’

  ‘Oh, it would be ideal. James admires Charlotte and she thinks the world of him. I have a more selfish reason, too. I should not lose either of my friends.’

  ‘An admirable arrangement!’ Sir William sounded imperturbable, but his own views on the subject differed widely from those of his companion. James and he were close, and he had seen from the start which way the wind was blowing. James was in love with the delightful creature beside him, even though he might not yet have admitted it to himself.

  And Amy? She was very young and innocent, in spite of her forthright views. Well, he would not play matchmaker. These matters had a habit of resolving themselves with time. He decided to change the subject.

  ‘Are you well acquainted with the Comte de Vionnet?’ he asked in a casual tone. ‘I believe I saw him speaking to you this morning. I was surprised to see him here in Bath.’

  Amy seized upon the subject eagerly. Sir William had given her the perfect opportunity to find out more about the Comte.

  ‘Do you know him, sir?’

  ‘I know of him,’ Sir William corrected. ‘I should not describe him as a friend.’

  ‘You, too?’ Amy groaned. ‘I wish you will tell me why you and James are so set against him. He was charming to my aunt.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, ma’am, but I have heard of his behaviour in situations where charm was not of the first importance.’

  ‘And where was that?’ Amy was bristling with suspicion. ‘I must hope that you have some proof, sir. Hearsay is not enough for me, though it seems to suit James well. He has forbidden me to speak to the Comte.’

  ‘Really? That sounds unlike him, Miss Wentworth.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not in so many words,’ Amy admitted grudgingly. ‘But he does not approve of the acquaintance.’

  ‘Possibly he does not approve of looting.’

  ‘Looting? Where did that take place?’

  ‘You will find it in the records, Miss Wentworth. De Vionnet’s was not an isolated case in India. So many palaces and temples were stripped of their treasures, but it was enough to get him banned from trading in the future.’

  ‘He told me that he had been forced to live upon his wits, but looting? I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Then what do you say to trafficking in human souls?’

  ‘No!’ Amy gazed at Sir William in horror. ‘Are you speaking of the slave trade?’

  ‘A lucrative business, ma’am. “Black Gold”, I think they call it.’

  ‘But the Comte would never stoop to that. Is it not the province of the Arab traders?’

  ‘It is, as far as the west coast of Africa, but the slaves must be shipped from there, mainly to English ports as a first stop on the route to the Americas.’

  Amy shivered. She had heard horrific stories about the slave trade. If challenged, the slavers had been known to throw their captives overboard, still manacled, to sink to a dreadful death beneath the waters of the Atlantic ocean.

  ‘No!’ she said firmly. ‘I won’t believe that of Philippe de Vionnet. No civilised human being could possibly play a part in it.’

  Sir William sighed. Amy was still a child, after all. She could have no idea of the lengths to which some men would go to turn a profit.

  ‘Tell me something?’ he asked. ‘Do you know where the Comte is based?’

  ‘He stays at Bristol, I believe.’ Amy gave him a bleak look.

  ‘And Bristol is?’

  ‘A historic city.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘A sea-port?’ Amy was mystified. She did not follow his line of questioning.

  ‘And?’

  She understood him then. ‘It is a centre of the slave trade,’ she admitted miserably. ‘Even so, you shall not lay those charges at the Comte’s door. The inhabitan
ts of Bristol follow many different callings. They are not all slavers.’

  ‘True, but—’ He was prevented from saying more by the reappearance of Henry and Crispin.

  ‘We have found it,’ Henry announced triumphantly. ‘I knew there must be something on the subject in Aunt Trixie’s library. Here it is…a treatise on arms and armour.’

  ‘A treasure indeed!’ Sir William bent over the book with every appearance of interest. He seemed to have dismissed the conversation with Amy from his mind.

  She sat beside them, feigning absorption in the coloured plates, but her thoughts were far away. She felt a sense of growing irritation. What possessed these men to level such accusations at each other? As yet, none of the three had offered her a shred of proof.

  As always, James had tuned in to her mood, although he seemed to be giving his full attention to his cards. He played on for a time. Then, by some mischance, an elementary mistake on his part handed the game to his opponents, much to the disgust of his partner.

  He offered his apologies, which the Colonel took in good part, but that fiery gentleman showed no desire to continue with another attempt to beat the Admiral and Miss Langrishe. His losses were minimal, but he was unlikely to recoup them in such company.

  Miss Langrishe rang for the tea-tray, seizing the diversion to reprove her young friend.

  ‘James, you threw that game deliberately,’ she accused in a whisper. ‘Now the Colonel must believe that you are a veritable tyro, rather than the excellent player I know you to be. What are you about?’

  ‘Forgive me, ma’am!’ James looked penitent. ‘I felt that it might be time to rescue Amy. She is looking rather pale. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘My dear boy, you are right! She does not look herself at all, but I beg that you will not fuss. There is nothing she dislikes more. Bring her to me. Perhaps some tea…?’

  She was more concerned than she cared to admit. Amy had a splendid constitution and had never fainted in her life, but at this moment it seemed quite possible that she would do so.

  She watched in some anxiety as James strolled over to the little group. Amy took his outstretched hand at once and allowed him to lead her to her aunt’s side.