Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart

by Catherine Bowness

  “You were not at first,” Letty reminded her. “The thing was that you were positively icy when they spoke to us initially and then you became quite encouraging so that I should not think he knew whether he was upon his head or his heels.”

  “Oh dear! Do you suppose he thought he had won me over?”

  “I am not at all certain what he thought.”

  “I am much afraid that he may have considered me deranged and I cannot say that I blame him. I do not think I have ever been so clumsy in my life.”

  Letty said kindly, “It is probably because you have spent so long with a variety of Miss Watkins and were almost inebriated by the excitement of speaking to a relatively sane person.”

  “Do you think so? I own I am afraid my extraordinary volte face owed more to the stimulation of speaking to a man who made no attempt to conceal his admiration.”

  “Well, I see nothing peculiar in that,” Letty said. “After all, anyone who had been forced to endure Miss Watkin’s conversation for more than an hour or two would likely lose her wits. But it’s my opinion that what changed your mind was not your own pleasure in speaking to a man but your perception that I seemed a little less low.”

  “Yes, it was,” Aspasia admitted, rather surprised that her niece should have drawn this conclusion.

  “You see, it was a revelation to me too,” Letty continued. “I have not spent as long as you have in a state of lonely isolation but – well, I do not believe I had quite expected to enjoy speaking to other people so much. I don’t know that it was altogether related to them being men.”

  “I think it was entirely related to that,” her aunt corrected, “for you did not emerge from your low mood in my company.”

  “I see,” Letty said thoughtfully. “Are you resolved to put me in the way of as many men as possible until you perceive me to have recovered from what you call my ‘low mood’?”

  “Put like that, it sounds positively outrageous,” Aspasia admitted. “But I do think there is a pressing need for you to get out and about in Society in the way that most girls of your age do. You have been isolated for far too long.”

  “As have you, dear Aunt. But what are we to do? We are on our way to stay with my fiancé; he will think it very odd if we insist upon going into the nearest assembly rooms and flirting with as many gentlemen as we can gather about us.”

  “And that, if I am not much mistaken, will be a great many for, when you are animated and smiling, you are exceedingly pretty, my dear. If I were Stonegate, I confess I might be worried about taking such a very young and comely wife and then abandoning her in the country while I returned to my mistress in town.”

  “My heart will always belong to Archie,” Letty said sententiously. “Dear Aunt, are you suggesting that I might be tempted to take a lover if my husband neglects me?”

  “Yes; it is by no means unknown – or even particularly unusual.”

  “No, indeed; Lady Vanston – if I have my fiancé’s mistress’s name right - has done so after all.”

  “She is more of an age with him and has already provided her husband with an heir, I understand. Such conduct amongst the highest rank is not peculiar but I am unsophisticated enough to believe it not only wrong but foolish. Engaging in such liaisons is a dangerous game.”

  “I cannot conceive it likely that I would be tempted to do any such thing,” Letty said reassuringly. “I have done with falling in love – and done with men in that respect at least. I promise you I shall be scrupulously faithful to my husband.”

  There were several more changes before they arrived at the Horse and Groom. They had nowhere caught sight of the soldiers so that they drove into the courtyard as darkness was falling with little expectation of seeing them again.

  This time they had a private parlour already reserved and, having changed their attire and washed the travel stains from their faces and hands, repaired to it with the intention of eating their dinner undisturbed by any gentlemen, flirtatious or otherwise.

  A fire had been lit, the curtains drawn and the covers laid but neither woman, who had spent the past several hours in silence on account of having run out of conversation, found herself inspired to make any comment other than how agreeable it was to feel solid ground beneath her feet when there was the sound of an arrival in the hall outside. They could hear masculine voices which they had no difficulty in recognising as belonging to their soldier friends of the afternoon.

  “They will not know that we are here,” Letty said, meeting her aunt’s interrogative eyes.

  “Indeed; that is the advantage of having booked a private parlour in advance,” her aunt replied ironically.

  “I suppose they could ask,” Letty said.

  “I believe they are doing so – have done so,” Aspasia agreed as a knock fell upon the door, followed a moment later by the appearance of a servant, who entered in a sinuous manner whilst keeping the door half-closed.

  “There are two gentlemen outside who are enquiring whether you are safely arrived, Madam. They seem to be under the impression that you have arranged to meet here.”

  “Not quite,” Aspasia contradicted, “although we did disclose our destination. Letty?”

  “I suppose it would not do any harm to eat dinner with them,” her niece offered tentatively.

  Aspasia’s lips twitched. She said, “Pray thank them for their concern and inform them that we have indeed arrived and that we are about to eat our dinner if they would care to join us.”

  “Certainly, Madam.”

  The soldiers came in with many bows and expressions of delight. Two additional covers were requested, two additional chairs were provided and in no time the men had seated themselves at the table.

  The first few minutes were taken up with an exchange of information about their journeys, including where and when they had been delayed.

  “We did not see you in front of us,” the Major said. “You must have fairly galloped to get here so long before us.”

  “I suppose you must have dawdled,” Aspasia returned.

  “No; in point of fact we stopped in order to buy you each a little bouquet; we supposed a large one would be too difficult to accommodate whilst travelling but could not resist a trifle of a nosegay,” the Major said, nodding at his companion who brought from behind his back, rather in the manner of a conjuror, two exquisite little bunches of spring flowers, one tied with a pink ribbon and one with a yellow.

  “Oh, thank you!” Letty exclaimed, enchanted. “No one has ever given me flowers before!”

  “What? Good Lord, what are the gentlemen like where you have come from? Do you tell me your betrothed has never given you such a thing?” Captain Sharpthorne cried with a naïveté which matched Letty’s own to a nicety.

  “No; well, he lives a long way away,” she mumbled, blushing.

  “But surely he must have courted you,” the Captain said. “Did he not send you a corsage or something of that nature to wear on your dress when you were attending a ball?”

  She shook her head and the Captain, directing a sharp look at her, said, “I take it the alliance has been, as it were, arranged more for dynastic purposes than romantic ones?”

  She nodded miserably for she could not help but be aware that acquiring a fiancé without his having been swept off his feet by her charms must necessarily diminish her attractiveness to the opposite sex.

  “I suppose,” he said at last, “that he is a good match – a belted earl and all that – but it seems a shame that you have not chosen your future husband yourself. I presume you have not and that the contract has been made between him and your father.”

  “I have given my consent,” she said, still red in the face.

  “Do you wish to marry him?” he asked in a low voice, no doubt noticing her evasive manner.

  “I am not convinced that wishes come into it precisely,” she replied. “I mean, I own that I did not wish for it – had not by any means considered it - before my father told me of his offe
r. I am flattered that he – he has chosen me.”

  “I don’t think you should be,” Captain Sharpthorne said quietly. “Unless you are flattered by a man having studied your background and considered what you will bring with you and, as a consequence, decided that you fulfil all the criteria he considers essential in his wife. Making such a choice is no doubt a practical way to go about such a thing as marriage but I own it seems a shame when applied to a person such as you; that is to say, I should think anyone who met you would want to marry you. I suppose he has met you?”

  “Yes. The thing is – it must seem strange to you – but there – there was another gentleman a few years ago whom I had hoped to marry but my father did not think him suitable so – so he forbade us to speak – or write to each other.”

  “I see. And this other gentleman – I have the impression that you retain some affection for him. How has he taken the news that you are to marry another?”

  “I do not suppose that he knows anything about it; in any event, he is himself already married.” Letty’s voice had moved with astonishing rapidity from embarrassment through despondency to something approaching anger as she admitted the miserable culmination of her attachment.

  “The devil!” Captain Sharpthorne exclaimed. “Who is he – this scoundrel who played fast and loose with your affections?”

  “Oh, I do not think he was – is – a scoundrel precisely. I am persuaded he has – well, I am sure I don’t know - but I can only suppose he has forgotten me and fallen in love with another. I wonder if you know him; his father bought him a commission after – after he discovered how strong our sentiments were.”

  “Ah, I see; it is a not uncommon ruse to dispose of undesirable suitors. Do you know which regiment he joined?”

  “No.”

  “What is his name?”

  “Meridew. Lord Archibald Meridew.”

  “Indeed? I know – knew – him well. He was in my regiment but – but no longer.”

  Letty’s face had gone first red and then white as she assimilated this news.

  “Is he dead?”

  “I do not see how he can be if he has recently married,” Captain Sharpthorne argued, growing uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

  “No; but I am not certain that I have been told the truth.”

  Captain Sharpthorne blinked. After a momentary pause while he collected himself, he said, “You mean that your family wanted you to give up hope and thought, perhaps, that telling you he was married would be more effective than telling you he was dead?”

  “Yes, and indeed that has answered. As soon as I was told that I agreed to marry Lord Stonegate.”

  “I see. Would you not have done so if you had believed him to be dead?”

  “I don’t know; very likely not – at least not until a – a passage of time had intervened.”

  “Yes, of course; whereas his having married another so outraged you that you cannot wait to contract an alliance yourself?”

  “Yes; I suppose it is very childish – and foolish. The way you have spoken of him makes me wonder if he is in fact dead. Do you know what has become of him?”

  “No, I am afraid I do not. He could not be found after Bussaco. Many were wounded and many died, but he could not be found amongst their number. He was in my regiment and I liked him. He was a brave soldier.”

  She nodded. She was shaking. “I – I think what you’ve just said explains a great deal. I daresay you are unaware that he is – was - in point of fact Lord Stonegate’s brother.”

  “I was not aware of that. He did not speak of his family – at least not to me. We were in the same regiment but not close friends. Did Lord Stonegate know of your prior attachment to his brother when he made the offer, do you think?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed he did – unless he has forgotten it.”

  Captain Sharpthorne, no doubt desirous of avoiding further fruitless speculation either about Lord Archibald’s state of health or Lord Stonegate’s motives for choosing a young woman previously associated with his brother, turned the subject firmly back to the mundane.

  “How long do you intend to remain at Stonegate? Or will you marry while you are there and not return home at all?”

  “I am not sure; I think about a month. We have not yet arranged the wedding ceremony but of course Papa will want to be there, so I think it unlikely it will take place particularly quickly.”

  While Letty and Captain Sharpthorne were engaged in earnest conversation, Aspasia and Major Fielding exchanged views on nothing more perplexing than the weather, the road conditions and the quality of the dinner. He mentioned that both he and his nephew were intending to sell out as, his brother-in-law having recently died, his sister – Lord Sharpthorne’s mother – was finding it difficult to manage her unruly children, of whom the Captain was the eldest. He, not yet having entered parson’s mousetrap, felt it to be his duty to support her.

  It was a pleasant interlude and both women, when they retired to their chambers, felt content with the evening. Neither had much experience with gentlemen, both having been swept away by romantic passion when they were barely old enough to understand such a thing, and both had suffered unimaginably as a consequence. It had been a revelation that ladies and gentlemen could converse in a civilised fashion with each other, discuss subjects in a rational manner and take pleasure in each other’s company without such unexceptionable behaviour leading inevitably to scenes of unbridled passion, rash promises and heartbreak. They did not discuss this conclusion; each kept her own counsel but both felt unusually happy as they prepared for sleep.

  Chapter 6

  The next day they rose early, ate their breakfast and made an attempt to set off before the men showed their faces. They were, at one and the same time, fearful that the amiability of the gentlemen the evening before might not have lasted the night, and a little anxious lest their new friends should exert too much pressure upon them to make a further assignation.

  They were not, though, quite quick enough. As they were climbing into the carriage, the soldiers appeared, on foot, from the direction of the road.

  “Did you think you would slip away when we weren’t looking?” the Major asked in a jocular manner. “We’ve been for a walk beside the river – and very pleasant it was too. Have you already eaten your breakfast?”

  “Oh, yes,” Aspasia replied. “We were not trying to avoid you, sir, but have a long way to travel.”

  “Quite so,” he agreed. “Well, I’ll wish you ‘bon voyage’ and hope to catch up with you again further down the road.”

  Although they had been able to refrain from discussing the gentlemen the previous evening, it did not seem possible to continue to do so once they were ensconced side by side in the carriage for there was little else to talk of other than the scenery through which the carriage was passing and the way the weather seemed to be becoming more settled the further south they travelled.

  “Did you know that the Captain is in fact Lord Sharpthorne?” the aunt asked after they had spent half an hour discussing the strength of the sun and the condition of the trees.

  “Yes, he told me. He also said that both he and his uncle are planning to sell out soon.”

  “Yes,” Aspasia agreed. “He seems to be an agreeable gentleman.”

  “Which – the uncle or the nephew?”

  “Both.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking, Aunt, that I should jilt poor Lord Stonegate in favour of Lord Sharpthorne,” Letty said after a pause while the import of her aunt’s appreciation of the Captain took root.

  Aspasia was beginning to think this but did not feel that a responsible chaperone should voice such an opinion so she contented herself with a meaningful glance and a weak denial.

  Letty said, “Pray do not forget that I have agreed to wed Lord Stonegate because I cannot marry Archie and, my heart being permanently in his possession, it matters not whom I choose.”

  “I never heard such an absurd a
nd erroneous argument put forward on any subject,” Aspasia exclaimed, her tongue suddenly loosened. “Of course it matters whom you marry; why, if you ally yourself to a disagreeable man, you will suffer for the rest of your life whereas if you marry one for whom you are able to feel a degree of affection – pray take note that that is all that is essential - indissoluble passion for Lord Archibald Meridew notwithstanding – you will very likely live a long and contented life.”

  “I see. Well, I own that I liked Lord Sharpthorne but there is not the least danger – or likelihood – of my conceiving any degree of deeper affection for him. And what about you?” she went on, feeling hunted and turning the tables upon her aunt. “You seemed to find Major Fielding a sympathetic character.”

  “I did but I can assure you that my days of taking a personal interest in any gentleman are long past.”

  After this pair of unequivocal denials, both women applied themselves to concentrated contemplation of the landscape.

  When they stopped for nuncheon there was no sign of the soldiers, so they were forced to eat by themselves; finding each other’s company less than stimulating, they did not tarry over their cold meats and fruit.

  The gentlemen reappeared that evening and the four ate their dinner together again and afterwards played whist. It was a jolly evening and they all laughed a good deal and felt so much in charity with each other that they parted the next day with many expressions of joy at having formed a friendship and regret that, since the women would arrive at Stonegate that evening, there could be no repetition of their foursome.

  “But we will make sure to call on Stonegate while you are there,” the Major assured them. “Not only do I not at all wish to lose touch with you, but I am eager to catch up with my old friend.”

  It was not until well into the afternoon that the carriage turned in at the gates of Stonegate Castle, which proved to be almost as romantically medieval as the name suggested. It was built of stone and boasted round turrets on all four corners, a moat whose water rippled charmingly in the slight breeze and a portcullis, which was raised as they drove up.