“This is horrific! Do they not have consciences?”
“They care for the money, my dear, and for numerous people in this country, the slave trade is their livelihood – from the workers building and fitting out the ships in Bristol and Liverpool, to the British manufacturers producing the items the slave traders barter on the West African coast in exchange for human beings. Slavery has contributed hugely to the wealth of this country.”
Isabel shook her head. “It is wickedness! The whole of society seems to be linked to it in some way.” She sighed. “Is it even worth trying to effect change?”
He studied her thoughtfully. “Most people are ignorant of what goes on in the slave plantations. If those of us who do know educate them, we will make a difference, even if it is gradual. Cherny is using his platform as a Member of Parliament to petition for the abolition of slavery, and you are boycotting slave-grown sugar and cotton and writing pamphlets… If we all work to make a difference, eventually it will result in change.”
Isabel nodded, but said nothing.
Marcus put his thumb under her chin, and tilted her face upwards. He kissed her briefly on the lips. “You care so deeply, my love.”
She gazed up at him. “You – you called me ‘my love’, yesterday, when you rescued me from the river.”
“Well, of course I did.” He raised his brows. “I thought you knew I loved you.”
“You never said it in so many words.”
“Well, I am saying them now. I love you, Isabel.”
Her eyelids fluttered down. She couldn’t quite take it in.
“The polite thing to do when your – er – lover has expressed his feelings for the first time is to reciprocate.”
“Oh – yes, yes, of course. I love you, Marcus! Only – it was so delightful to hear you say so that I was quite speechless!”
He drew her into his arms, and kissed her again. When at last the tender kiss ended, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her slightly away. “Are you quite well after your dip in the river, my dear?” he said, studying her face. “I do not wish my embraces to – er – overwhelm you, if you are still recovering.”
Isabel sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder. “No, indeed. I feel more than well. But your embraces are always overwhelming, Marcus, whether I have just been submerged in a river or not.”
He chuckled and drew her to her feet. Taking her hands in his, he looked at her thoughtfully, and said, “Love is one thing, my dear, and marriage quite another. You had some very decided opinions against marriage when we spoke about it last. Are you still of the same mind?”
Isabel chewed her bottom lip. “I still think marriage is an institution which traps women,” she said eventually.
“Even when you have found a man it may be quite – ah – exciting to be trapped with?”
“It – it is not that exactly. It is hard for me to reconcile myself to the idea that I will no longer have my own income if I marry, or my own home. And I have recently renovated my kitchen at the Dower House at Axbridge Park!”
His shoulders shook with poorly suppressed laughter. “My dear love… your new kitchen is preventing you from accepting my marriage proposal?”
“It is a very fine kitchen,” she said, with dignity. “I recently modernised it. It has the latest James Walker kitchen range in it.”
He shouted with laughter, but after a while the mirth faded from his face and he took her hands in his and said seriously, “I know I laugh, but I am fully aware that you have tasted independence and do not wish to give it up. But if we are to be in the traces together, we have to work as a team, my dear, otherwise we will land up in a ditch.” He searched her face. “You understand? There is not much space for independence in marriage. But independence is not the same thing as individuality, my love, and I promise to respect your individuality as well as your mind if we marry – to esteem your opinions and to value them as my own.”
“You will?”
“I will. And I am vastly wealthy, my darling. I will give you enormous amounts of pin money every quarter and you can squirrel it away, and then, should I ever become a Bluebeard, you will have the means to escape from me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Marcus!” she said, chuckling.
He got down on one knee then, and taking her hands in his, he looked up at her and said simply, “Would you like to become the wife of a Marcus, rather than a Marquess, my dear? Will you accept my hand in marriage?”
She tugged at his hands and he rose, and then she flung her arms around his neck. “I can think of nothing I would like more than to become the wife of a Marcus.” She reached up and kissed him on the lips. “You can be quite absurd sometimes.”
His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her closer. “You will no longer have a title,” he warned.
“I will be delighted to simply be Mrs Bateman. It has a wonderful ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Mmmm… Speaking of rings –” He drew back. “I remember how fearful you looked when your mother was saying her vows to Cherny.”
She was silent for a while, before saying, “I – I was thinking about that obey clause in the vows – and how I had been forced to obey my father, and then my husband, and how stifling it was. I do not thrive when I am held too tightly – I do not mean in the physical sense, but in other ways…” She exhaled quickly. “I am not sure if I am making sense?”
“I understand your meaning, my dear,” he said. “I will remember that, and I will do my best not to clip your wings. And now, my little love,” he said, pulling at her cap. “And now…” He frowned suddenly. “Why are you wearing this ridiculous thing on your head? I can’t take it off.”
“Ridiculous?” she said. “I would have you know, kind sir, that this cap is in the first stare of fashion.”
“It is nonsensical. All it succeeds in doing is covering your glorious hair, and it is impossible to remove.” He tugged at the riband under her chin.
Isabel fiddled with the knot. “Simmonds has tied it very securely.”
His eyes narrowed. “If I did not know better I would think your faithful handmaid is plotting against me.”
She giggled. “Oh, not at all! You won Simmonds over at Chernock Hall when she overheard the sad story of your elopement with your lady love. She was standing in the larder and heard every word, and now she believes it was wicked that you were sent abroad when you were such a very young man. Under Simmonds’ starchy exterior beats the heart of a romantic. A strait-laced romantic, of course. But a romantic nonetheless.” Her brow creased. “Although she has made it impossible for me to take this cap off.”
“Never mind that now, ma belle.”
He pulled her closer, and Isabel relaxed into the circle of his arms. But when she looked up at him, the smile faded from her lips. “Why did you take so long to return to London?”
“The weather hasn’t only been bad here, my dear. The road to Bristol was impeded by snow and I was stranded there for weeks after I had completed my investigation. Eventually, I had to hire a sleigh.”
Isabel snuggled against him. “It was the longest month of my life.”
He kissed her once again, and she became so lost in his embrace that she was a little disorientated when he raised his head. “I would like to marry you soon, my love. Are you agreeable to that?”
She hesitated for the briefest of seconds. “Yes. Yes, of course, Marcus.”
“There is no need to be afraid.”
“I – I’m not afraid.”
He looked at her searchingly, a question in his eyes, a question which Isabel wasn’t quite ready to answer yet. And when he left an hour later, after informing her mother and George of their happy news, the reality of the decision she had just made suddenly bore down on her. She was a little afraid. Not of him, of course, never of him. But she had viewed matrimony in such a negative light for so long that it was difficult to change her feelings about it instantaneously.
* * *
“What a beautiful day, my lady.” Simmonds beamed at her.
Isabel sat up in bed and smiled. After a freezing February and March, April had arrived with far more temperate weather. To be getting married with the sun actually shining, was not something she had even dared to hope for a couple of weeks ago.
“It bodes well for your wedded life, my lady,” her maid said, bustling around the room.
Isabel took a sip of her tea. “I cannot believe I am getting married today, Simmonds. It feels as if I am in a dream.”
“It won’t feel like a dream for long, my lady. Not when you put your beautiful gown on.”
When Simmonds slipped the wedding dress over her head a short while later, Isabel blinked at her appearance in the mirror. The blue and white figured silver tissue gown was trimmed with a rich silver border, which was charmingly interspersed with embroidered silver patterns, orange blossom, and cornflowers; while the body and sleeves of the dress were elegantly trimmed with lama and silver blond lace.
It was so strange to be dressed as a bride again. Her previous wedding day had been filled with desolation. Her heart had been heavy, and she had found no joy in the occasion. But today… today she was marrying Marcus.
Mindful of his dislike of caps, Isabel had opted for a wreath of rose buds and leaves as her head dress, and Simmonds placed it carefully on her stylishly arranged hair. A few golden curls had been allowed to escape onto her cheeks, which were flushed with excitement.
“No rouge is necessary to give you a bloom, my lady,” Simmonds said with satisfaction, and she nodded happily. It was all becoming real.
Isabel, her mother, George, and Cousin Maria travelled to St. George’s together in their large family carriage. After they had alighted in front of the church, and stood in the road, her mother squeezed Isabel’s hands and kissed her on the cheek.
“I am so happy for you, my love. You look just as a bride ought to look.” She glanced away. “The expression on your face when you married Axbridge still haunts me to this day. You shall never know how sorry I was… how sorry I still am…”
She wiped the tears from her eyes, and Isabel embraced her. “Do not weep, Mama,” she said quietly. “Please don’t.”
Her mother sniffed, and accepted the handkerchief George pressed into her hands.
“I will weep tears of happiness in the church, my love.”
“Those are acceptable, Mama! Tears of sadness are not. It – it has all worked out for the best, you know.”
Her mother nodded, and after Cousin Maria had kissed Isabel on the cheek, the two ladies went into the church together, leaving Isabel to walk down the aisle on George’s arm.
The first person she saw on entering the church was Lady Kildaren, who inclined her head regally, a delighted smile on her face. Isabel beamed at the old lady and various other family members who caught her eye. And then she saw Marcus.
He stood at the front of the church, looking straight at her, and the gravely questioning expression on his face made the breath catch in her throat. They had not spoken of her fear of marriage again, and she had assumed Marcus had dismissed her qualms, as he had shown no indication of unease during their short betrothal.
But clearly he had known she still harboured some reservations about the matrimonial state, otherwise he would not be looking at her like this – as if he were afraid she may yet change her mind…
She approached the altar where the rector stood, and took her place beside Marcus, who turned to take her hand formally in his. However, instead of focusing her attention on the clergyman who waited to start the ceremony, Isabel urgently pressed Marcus’s hand, and when he looked at her inquiringly, she stood up on her toes, and whispered in his ear, “I love you so much, Marcus. I am not afraid – not anymore.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and she became lost in the tenderness of his gaze until the clergymen cleared his throat and said in a reproving voice, “Dearly beloved…”
Isabel kept her eyes on the rector as he intoned the beginning of the wedding ceremony, and the words which had once seemed so ominous now filled her with joy. Because Marcus was her dearly beloved. And that made all the difference.
Author’s Notes
Change of Names
Readers who have read Lord Fenmore’s Wager, the prequel to A Marchioness Below Stairs, will notice a couple of name changes in this book. I decided to change the title Lady Uxbridge to Lady Axbridge after I discovered there was an Earl of Uxbridge during the Regency period. In my research for A Marchioness Below Stairs, I also discovered an Irish nobleman in the 18th Century known as the Earl of Kildare (between 1744 and 1761) and as the Marquess of Kildare (between 1761 and 1766), and so I changed the name of Lady Kildare in Lord Fenmore’s Wager to Lady Kildaren in A Marchioness Below Stairs, to avoid confusion with real people who bore those names at that time.
The Gentry vs the Aristocracy / Class divides
In A Marchioness Below Stairs, Isabel is a member of the gentry, with no aristocratic family connections. I fashioned her family’s societal position on the level of society that Jane Austen belonged to – the gentry, a broad social class that included those who owned land (the landed gentry) as well as the professional classes who did not (lawyers, doctors and clergy). Isabel’s father was a country squire – and although the family were genteel, they were not members of the nobility. Usually members of the aristocracy would marry other members of the aristocracy, and it was unusual for a Marquess to marry the daughter of a country squire – unusual, but not unheard of.
Source:
https://www.college.columbia.edu/core/node/1765
The Gunning Sisters
During the Georgian period, two beautiful sisters, Maria and Elizabeth Gunning, became stunning social successes and married into some of the most aristocratic families in the land. They had humble origins, but their wit and beauty captured the public’s attention. They were mobbed when they promenaded in the park, and spectators stood on chairs when they were presented at Court. Elizabeth married the Duke of Hamilton, and when he died, she married the Marquess of Lorne who later became the Duke of Argyll. Maria Gunning married the Earl of Coventry.
Source:
http://historytimeshistory.blogspot.com/2011/10/gunning-sisters-georgian-cinderella.html
Would a member of the gentry know how to cook?
It is known from their letters that the Austen ladies kept a cook when they lived at Chawton. However, this wasn’t the kind of cook who could prepare food for dinner parties. Based on the yearly allowance paid to their cook, it is believed the Austen’s cook would have prepared more of the basic fare for the ladies, and that the sisters spent time in the kitchen, supervising the work as well as preparing some of the food themselves.
Source:
http://justjane1813.com/2017/07/13/going-home-to-chawton-filming-my-friend-jane-with-the-bbc-giveaway/
Regency Dinner Party Etiquette
Dinner parties during the Regency were often extravagant affairs, with several dishes being served with each course. The hostess served the soup, while the host served the fish and carved all the meat joints. The first course included a number of dishes, which were all served at the same time.
At the end of each course, the dishes and first tablecloth were removed, and a fresh tablecloth, which was underneath, would be reset for the next course.
Each gentleman would serve himself and his neighbours from the dishes within his reach. If a dish was required from another part of the table, a man-servant would be sent to fetch it. It was not considered good manners to ask a neighbour to pass a dish. It was equally poor form for a lady to ask for wine. The nearest gentlemen would fulfil that task.
After the roasts of meat had been carved, the gentlemen would propose toasts.
During dinner, a gentleman was expected to enga
ge the ladies nearest to him in conversation. It was not considered polite to talk behind one guest’s back to another, and it was not done to shout down the table.
During the first course, the conversation would flow to the hostess’s left, and when the second course was set, the hostess would turn to the guest on her right, thus “turning the table” and conversation would flow in that direction.
Source:
http://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com/2013/05/mind-your-manners.html
The Ballad of Lord Bateman
The folk song Lord Bateman in A Marchioness Below Stairs was a real ballad, also known as Lord Beichan. It is known in the Southern Appalachians, with only slight variations in the lyrics, as The Turkish Lady. The earliest printed version appeared in Jamieson’s Popular Ballads in 1783, however, a broadside of Lord Bateman was registered in England on December 14, 1624 with the Stationers’ Company.
There is an ancient legend of St. Thomas Becket’s father, Gilbert Becket, that suggests the story of the tune.
Source:
http://www.contemplator.com/child/bateman.html
The Role of Women in the Abolition of the Slave Trade
On 25 March 1807 the Abolition of the Slave Trade Act received royal assent, abolishing the slave trade in the British colonies and making it illegal to carry enslaved people in British ships. However, it was only in 1833 when slavery was abolished with the Abolition Act.
Men such as William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson are remembered as the heroes of the abolitionist movement. However, the names of the women who played a prominent role at a grassroots level in campaigning for the end of the British slave trade and slavery in the colonies are less well known.
A Marchioness Below Stairs Page 19