All was becoming clear to Amanda. "And so Lyndon must wed and have a son," she finished for Sally. "I see. But why offer for me?"
"Because," Sally Warrenby said simply, "Julian's reputation is such that he does not know any young ladies who would be acceptable brides. Acceptable to Grandpapa, that is; naturally he does not wish Julian to wed a rackety creature who would bring still more wild blood into the family. And I must say, Manda, proper young ladies have never interested Julian; well, you know that."
Amanda did know; even the most sheltered young ladies had caught whiffs of the gossip concerning Lyndon and this elegant young countess, or Lyndon and a dazzling opera dancer, or the perky charmer he had in keeping. Moreover, he had been so very uninterested in her when he proposed. No, proper young ladies held no attraction for Julian Lyndon.
"But I go too fast," Sally was saying reprovingly. "Do let me tell this, Manda. It will be vastly comforting to you, I make no doubt. After a deal of fuss and pother, it was decided that Lyndon could not be disinherited, and so to give him one of the smaller estates, close by Devonridge, with an enlarged allowance for himself, and another allowance for his wife, since he will doubtless squander and game his away."
"Oh, Sally! Really?" Amanda's eyes shone like star sapphires. "A home, and an estate, even an allowance of my very own? How very unbelievably wonderful."
"And who more deserving?" Sally said severely. "Do you know, I think Julian quite enjoyed it all? He himself brought up the question of who would be willing to wed him, for it must be admitted, even with this, he is still not a sufficiently great catch to off-set his reputation. And so it was decided that she should not be an innocent child straight from the schoolroom-What?"
Amanda had given a choke of laughter. "Merely that Cousin Cordelia had called me from the schoolroom when he came to offer. But as governess, not pupil."
Her friend eyed her with tolerant affection. "Quite so. A young woman of superior sense, character, and upbringing-"
"An antidote," Amanda helpfully translated, eyes dancing. A home and an allowance of her own. It was enough to make her spirits soar.
"If you please. Well, in point of fact, that is what Julian himself said," Sally conceded. "But I spoke up, putting myself forward, Aunt Mathilda said, and pointed out that she should be attractive to stand the slightest chance of dealing with Julian, considering his tastes-"
"That quite lets me out," Amanda murmured sadly, eyes still adance. The very thought of her own home and funds made her giddy.
"Manda, you wretch, do hush," Sally scolded her. "You could be most attractive, properly gowned and coiffed. That is what I told Julian last evening when he desired to know if you always dress so. I told him Yes, for her ladyship chooses gowns for her girls and you get their discards. But you push me ahead of my tale again, Manda, for shame. When I spoke out, it resulted in them giving me the responsibility for choosing Lyndon's bride, for it dawned upon them that none of them know any suitable young ladies, through the circumstance of them preferring a country life, and Lyndon's predilection for females of quite another sort."
"You mean to say you caused all this flurry for me?" Amanda spoke in blankest amazement.
"To be sure I did; I was positively inspired." Sally beamed at her. "It struck me instantly that here was your chance to escape from your dragon of a guardian into a home of your own, and I should imagine Lyndon will not be too dreadful a husband. That is, I shouldn't think he would beat you or be terribly unpleasant. He is selfish enough to desire his home life to be agreeable, which will doubtless result in his being charming to you while you are together. You once said that you should like above all things to live in the country, quite alone to do as you please, and that, I daresay, will be the way of it, for I should think Lyndon would continue to spend most of his time here in London."
"Yes," Amanda breathed thoughtfully. Doubtless they would see little of one another and could be courteously pleasant to each other when they did. That was the way with many such arranged marriages. Not going into it expecting more, she could ignore his-his other life-away from her. Meanwhile, she would have her own home and a regular allowance, and could live quietly, raising her children. It sounded unbelievably welcome.
"And so I assured them that I knew you well and that you were of the utmost respectability and fine character, of good birth and breeding. Oh, I puffed you off fabulously, I do assure you!" Sally continued. "Privately, I assured Lyndon that dressed properly, you could be most elegant and attractive, and that you have an excellent sense of humor."
"Yes, I should think I will need one, to maintain my sanity in the face of all his scandals," Amanda said irrepressibly. "I must tell you that I don't at all share Cousin Cordelia's confidence that I must and will change his way of life."
"No, I shouldn't think anyone could do that; certainly there have been attempts enough," Sally agreed, considering the matter. "Oh well. I don't suppose she truly does believe you can; she merely said that in order to be able to reproach you, in future, for not doing so. How well she and Aunt Mathilda would get on."
Amanda nodded, but absently; already she was sorting out all this welter of information, deciding how best to repeat it to Lady Cordelia. No need to go into all the details. Particularly, she saw no need to mention that Julian Lyndon had become heir to a dukedom, and to a fortune. No need whatsoever to relate that upon his marriage he was to be given an estate close by Devonridge Court, and that he and his wife would each receive an allowance which would in all likelihood be quite generous. Lady Cordelia might, indeed, seize such a prize for one of her own daughters, and ship Amanda off to teach at that Bath seminary after all. Lyndon would scarcely care. Amanda doubted that he would even recognize her, if they met on the street. However, Amanda didn't intend to tamely surrender this opportunity. For in Amanda grew and flourished determination. This had always, obviously, been only a marriage of convenience, and she was going to make that convenience her own.
* * *
Chapter Three
In any event, Lady Cordelia was too busy organizing the wedding, in addition to her own social activities, and she was never sufficiently interested in Amanda to inquire into every detail.
Her ladyship was satisfied and flattered by the information that a young relative in her care had been adjudged by the Duke of Devonridge to be suitably respectable to counteract the wildness of a black sheep younger grandson, and she was also pleased that cultivating Sally Blendon Warrenby's acquaintance had at last paid off to some extent.
The days rushed past. For Amanda, in this new exhilaration of seeing freedom ahead, it was simultaneously easy to put up with all the slights and snubs, and difficult to remain properly meek and respectful. She felt like singing, her feet wanted to dance rather than walk, and her eyes sparkled.
How to explain that, if it became sufficiently noticeable for Lady Cordelia and her daughters to become aware? No, the only prudent course was to repress her feelings, to be quietly grave, with her eyes lowered.
After all, should a well-brought-up young lady be so happy to be wedding a man of Lyndon's reputation? A trifle did show, and Maria twitted her.
"Oh, Amanda, you're happy to marry at all, after being at your last prayers for so long, are you not?"
Eliza trilled an artificial little laugh. "Yes, indeed. Even marriage to such as Julian Lyndon surpasses being an ape leader."
How on earth, Amanda wondered, had spinsters been assigned the task of leading apes in hell? Being happy to wed, to leave this household, oh yes. That was true enough. No change could be for the worse, Amanda was sure.
Sally was again a godsend, calling once more and prettily requesting that Lady Cordelia allow her dearest Amanda to accompany her shopping. Out in the smart Warrenby carriage, Sally disclosed that the shopping expedition was not altogether as Lady Cordelia had understood it to be.
"I'll warrant that her ladyship is selecting your trousseau. If, indeed, she thinks it needful to give you one," Sally add
ed grimly. "And I can just imagine what sort of thing she would select."
"No, you can't imagine," Amanda retorted. "More hand-me-downs, still quite good, and of the most awe-inspiring respectability."
"Most ineligible for a honeymoon with Lyndon, of all men," Sally pronounced disapprovingly. "And so I am going to take you to buy a trousseau. I shall introduce you to my modiste and my very favorite shops. They will be delighted to gain the custom of another Devonridge granddaughter, I promise you. You may charge your purchases and pay for them from your allowance after you are married, or allow Lyndon to do so."
The two young ladies spent a delightful afternoon at the shops, examining the garments and accessory trifles which were offered for their approbation.
At first horrified by the prices-But, dearest Manda, there is no time to have any garments made up inexpensively by a seamstress!-Amanda quickly decided that she did need to make a good appearance, as Lyndon's wife, and a Devonridge granddaughter-in-law. If she did spend too much, after all, Lord Devonridge had had to pay Lyndon's debts for years, and paying Lyndon's wife's bills should not be too novel.
She stifled a giggle at the thought. Rather than reforming Lyndon's ways, he was already undermining hers, and she hadn't even seen him since he had proposed.
Amanda whispered as much to Sally, whose big green eyes flashed with mischief. "My dear, I told Lyndon you would be the very wife for him. You see how right I am."
Oh, the clothing they bought. The clothing! A rich cream silk embroidered with tiny beads in an ornate design, its high waist and slim skirt fitting beautifully and accentuating Amanda's slender curves, in elegant simplicity. That was for evening wear.
For day, a blue in a deeper shade than the pale pastels that Lady Cordelia considered proper for virgins; this intensified Amanda's eyes, which glowed like star sapphires as she surveyed her reflection. A rose muslin with a wide white lace fichu and echoing lace flounce at the hem was also chosen.
And the undergarments. Sally's choice faintly shocked Amanda, even as it delighted her. The sheer, lacy chemises and petticoats were so different from the modest, practical garments which she and Eliza and Maria always wore. This, Amanda knew, was the sort which Sally Warrenby herself wore.
There were filmy nightdresses and peignoirs, perfect Amanda conceded, for a honeymoon with a man who had Lyndon's known tastes. That gave her a momentary quiver of apprehension, in the midst of the delights of shopping.
What, after all, did she know of Lyndon? Of men? Lady Cordelia-most mamas in fact- considered it quite improper for a young lady to know anything of such matters prior to marriage, and although Amanda and her ladyship's unwed daughters had heard far more than her ladyship imagined, still Amanda was aware of how extremely scanty, and possibly inaccurate, that whispered gossip actually was.
Meanwhile she only protested, "Yes, but Sally, I do think I should have something warm. Lyndon may prefer separate bedchambers, such as Cousin Cordelia and Sir William do. Or more likely, he'll be returning to town and leaving me in the country within a fortnight of the wedding."
"If you're clad in something warm, he most certainly will," Sally retorted. "No, love, you listen to me. Time enough for warm nightdresses and dressing gowns later; you can have them made up anywhere or anytime. If I know you, you'd be too shy to wear these pretty little trifles if you had aught else. Don't you allow the old dragon to terrify you with the lecture she'll doubtless give you on A Husband's Rights. Marriage is most pleasant, I do promise you." The reflective light in her eye and her small smile reassured Amanda far more than Sally's actual words. Moreover, it was well nigh impossible to be fearful when the long triple mirrors reflected a self more attractive than she had ever guessed she could be.
"This is what I term a highly successful day," Sally declared later, as they mounted into the Warrenby carriage and leaned back against the green velvet squabs with a sigh. "Didn't we buy a vast amount, though? I do believe we thought of everything. Everything imaginable."
"I should imagine so," Amanda assented, eying the bandboxes with some awe. "I vow, I'm afraid to add up what all the bills must come to. You're certain it will be all right? Thank heaven you're taking these home with you; I should never dare to."
"Quite so, and now it comes to me, once wed, you must have your own maid, and London is the place to find a woman clever with a needle and at doing hair. You don't desire some green country clod. Lady Drumm will never think to provide you with the sort you need. Leave that to me."
"Oh, but, Sally." Amanda was both fascinated and shocked. Yes, true, other ladies had maids, but a personal maid? "I've never had an abigail. I shouldn't begin to know what to do with one!"
Sally nodded at her. "I nothing doubt it, in that house. Why, you'll enjoy having someone to do your mending and take care of your clothes and tidy your room and run your errands and arrange your hair. You'll learn, soon enough."
"Well, I suppose, only-"
"Lyndon has a valet, you may be sure, and the other ladies and gentlemen of the family have their own personal servants. You must keep up your end, as well." Her eyes twinkled. "Do say you will do it, Manda. Just so you don't disgrace the family."
"Oh well, when you put it like that." Amanda dissolved in laughter. How swiftly her life was changing.
"I daresay I know the very woman," Sally said with satisfaction, when her own giggles died down. "Do you know Mrs. Crayburn? Disagreeable female, but always turned out in the first stare of elegance. I fancy her woman would be happy to make a change."
* * *
Amanda dreaded Lady Milvern's assembly; she had never enjoyed going about in Society, badly dressed and possessing neither wealth nor beauty to counteract it. Now she thought that her attendance might not be so bad, could she but wear that elegant gown of cream silk, with her hair fashionably arranged by skilled hands. (A lady's maid of her own, really?)
But to go in this pallid pink, with her hair neatly but dully banded, oh, horrors. No matter how she rubbed her cheeks and bit her lips, they remained pale. Sally (or her abigail) was skilled at cosmetic aids, but Lady Cordelia forcefully condemned such artifice for unmarried girls. She herself applied it, rather too lavishly at times, but that, of course, was quite different.
Moreover, on this occasion, Amanda shared Lady Cordelia's depressed conviction that they would be the center of all eyes and gossip, as the betrothal had been announced in all the gazettes by now. However, to make no announcement would have caused even more gossip, of another kind.
They must prepare themselves for the ordeal. There was no escaping it.
However, in this they had been spared. Princess Charlotte's engagement to the Prince of Orange was not prospering, and the affairs of the heiress to the crown were naturally of greater moment than the impending marriage of two unimportant private persons. Few beyond their special friends considered the coming Blackton-Lyndon nuptials worthy of comment, and those were genuine in their wishes for future happiness, other than some of Lyndon's more rackety cronies. They themselves avoided parson's mousetrap like the plague, and were appalled that their liveliest friend must needs fall victim to such a fate.
The Milvern mansion was huge, with hundreds of candles lighting it and making it over- warm. Indeed, Amanda felt flushed and her head began to ache from the heat and combined scents of all the perfumes and sweat, as well as the flowers that had been used so lavishly in decoration. She wished she might have stayed at home tonight, as she customarily did when Lady Cordelia took her daughters to such a fashionable squeeze. If only they might make their leave at an early hour.
With a sly smile and nudge, Eliza pointed out Isabella Hollingcourt, who entered followed by several admirers, but not her elderly husband.
"She's in radiant looks, is she not?"
Amanda was able to manage a smile. "Isabella Hollingcourt has never been in less than radiant looks in her entire life."
However, maintaining that smile was difficult when Lady Hollingcourt's progress
brought her past the Drumm party, and she paused, looking Amanda in the face.
"I hear that I am to wish you happy." But her sweeping glance was disdainful, and her smile merely curved her lips; it didn't warm her eyes. "Perhaps we shall become the greatest of friends, as Lyndon and I are."
Amanda murmured something; she was unsure what. Isabella's words were innocuous enough, but her gaze turned them to insult. Why, she all but said she and Lyndon were lovers! Neither was the sort to have platonic friends of the opposite sex. Moreover, Amanda realized quite well that Isabella Hollingcourt was not the woman to have a man she fancied taken away from her, even by a marriage of convenience.
How could Amanda have ever thought she had a chance against an experienced woman of such beauty and charm? (Charm, when Isabella chose to employ it.)
Well, of course, Amanda had not. She had realized from the outset that this match was forced upon them both, and that they would shortly go their separate ways. As soon as she was with child...
Lyndon arrived considerably later than Lady Cordelia's party. He was in no hurry to join his fiancée; he moved about speaking to his acquaintances, including Isabella Hollingcourt. Of course. She sparkled, for him, and he lingered, laughing and talking.
He was such a good-looking man. He and Isabella Hollingcourt were the handsomest pair in the entire assembled company. They seemed meant to be together.
Regretfully, Amanda conceded that she herself was no match for him.
Yet they were betrothed. Soon they would wed. That thought frightened her. No matter what Sally told her, or advised. No matter how eager she was to escape her present situation and the threat of Miss Fishback's Seminary.
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