“Yes, Jane, I will try.”
***
“Now,” Michael said as he leaned back upon a chair in the parlor, a cup and saucer cradled in his hand, “tell me who’s proposed to Lucy. I’m assuming you don’t approve, or there wouldn’t be this apparent immediacy to tell me.”
His father-in-law appeared relaxed, his fingers idly twirling his quizzing glass, an affectation Sherbourne never employed, other than to toy with it. He looked directly at Michael and said, “I approve, most definitely, but I suspect you may not, at least initially.”
“What of Lucy? She is, of course, my only concern. Does she appear satisfied with this prospect?”
“Rather a lot, actually. She tells me she’s in love, that she can’t imagine marrying another, that he’ll be an excellent father to young William. In short, Blixford, the prospect is myself. I beg your forbearance before you pass judgment, and listen to what has transpired since you left London.”
He was speechless with shock. Sherbourne? Lucy had fallen in love with Sherbourne? He was twice her age. He remained composed and didn’t allow any expression to cross his face as Jane’s father told him of how they initially struck it well, of the days that followed, the time they had spent together, the search for a suitable husband, her disappointment, and Sherbourne’s dissatisfaction with each and every prospect. They had become friends, he became attached to William, they realized they held each other in great affection. She indicated she wouldn’t be happy with anyone but him, and he proposed. He wasn’t passionate in his speech, but Michael could see the sparkle in his eyes, could hear the inflection in his voice. The man was completely gone for Lucy. He didn’t doubt they’d been intimate. His mind turned that over once, twice, then firmly shoved it aside. It was bad enough, imagining his baby sister, but with Sherbourne? Good God! It was . . . disturbing.
If it were not his sister, he would find it equally funny and rather romantic. Here was a man widowed some twenty-two years ago, one who loved his first wife so much he’d never taken another, but instead, raised seven children, alone. Now, he was besotted with a woman half his age. Michael could see why the age difference was of no concern to either of them. Sherbourne was young for his age, and Lucy had always been mature far beyond her years.
In point of fact, despite Lucy’s eventual heartbreak, for she was bound to outlive him by many years, he could see that the match made perfect sense, would probably be enormously successful.
But for one thing. He cleared his throat at last and began, “Sherbourne, it can’t happen. I’m sorry, but you simply cannot marry my sister.”
“Why not?”
“Frankly, because of what happened to Jane in Scotland.”
His father-in-law frowned. “I fail to see the correlation, Blixford. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me?”
“I don’t intend to slight your skills as a parent, nor do I disparage or call into question your affection for your children, but your lack of oversight concerning Jane’s welfare is beyond the pale, unacceptable, and not something I can forgive, or forget. She was misused terribly, and I place the blame squarely upon your shoulders. How can I entrust my sister and nephew’s welfare to you, a man who allowed his only daughter to rusticate in the far reaches of Scotland for four long years, and never once visited? I can’t allow it, Sherbourne. You believe you have her best interests at heart, and I don’t doubt that, but you show a lack of wisdom and diligence that may put Lucy and William in a bad spot. Perhaps even in danger.”
“Well.” Sherbourne was obviously set back on his heels. He’d undoubtedly expected Michael to disapprove of the match because of their age difference, not because of his failure as a parent. “She can marry me without your approval, of course, but she won’t, and I wouldn’t want her to. I’m a bit taken aback, Blixford. I’d ask you to give this serious thought before you give your final answer.”
“It’s unnecessary, Sherbourne. I won’t change my mind.”
Suddenly, the door burst open and his wife rushed into the room, eyes flashing, bosom heaving, arms waving. She was in termagant mode, fully in a rage. Unfortunately, her rage was directed at him. He suspected his wife had fallen to the rather low endeavor of eavesdropping. She confirmed his suspicion when she stopped close to his chair and glared at him, her hands balled into fists at her side. “How dare you! I told you something in deepest confidence, something which brings me tremendous shame and humiliation, and you told my father? Michael, how could you?”
“Jane, I didn’t tell him.”
“You just said I was misused terribly. What else could he think? And it’s clear he already knew, so you must have told him the day we married. All this time, I was so glad to know my father would never learn of his daughter’s shame, and you had already told him. You are a cad! By all that’s holy, I’ve married a cad. And by God, it’s grossly unfair to accuse him of negligence. He didn’t come to visit because I would not allow it. I didn’t want to see him, nor any of my brothers. If you had a farthing of sense, you’d understand why. I was ruined! As much as my running away humiliated you, how do you think it was for them? I couldn’t bear to see them, knowing I’d brought such shame upon my family. I said if any of them came to see me, I wouldn’t be there. I’d go away until they left. He wrote to me every single week, for four years! He sent money and gifts and begged me to return home. He sent a distant cousin to act as companion and chaperone and I sent her back. I won’t stand by and allow you to ruin his and Lucy’s chance at happiness because you’re a bloody stick.”
She turned to leave and marched for the door. “I won’t be able to get past this betrayal, Blixford. You will return to London to your duties in Parliament and I will retire to Eastchase Hall and settle into the duchess’s chambers that I may take up my duties as mistress of the house.”
Had she tossed a barrel of iced water upon him, he couldn’t have been as stunned and shaken. She wouldn’t stay with him in his bed. She would become as his first three duchesses, available only at night, in her chamber.
“Jane,” Sherbourne called, rising from his seat, “he didn’t tell me. He said he thought it odd you hadn’t taken a husband while in Scotland, then told me you requested he meet you in the park, early that morning, that you could tell him something of significance that transpired in Scotland. I surmised his meaning. He said only that much so that I would realize your motivation for marrying him, that to dissect him was really rather pointless, when you had such a great weight upon your heart. He did it out of concern for you, so that your obtuse father would accept your choice of husband and stop inadvertently heaping additional guilt upon your head.”
He strode toward her and turned her round to embrace her. “I am nevertheless at fault, no matter that you insisted I not come to Scotland. I should not have allowed you to run, and should never have allowed you to stay. Your husband is right, and I will ever feel I failed as a parent, but you should know I love you most dearly, treasure you as my only daughter. I’d sooner cut off my arm than any harm come to you.”
She did not cry. She did not relax her posture. She did not say a word.
Michael knew her well enough by now to know, she was too angry to hear what her father said, too filled with rage to listen to reason. Eventually, Sherbourne released her and she turned and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
His father-in-law gave him a pained, questioning look.
“Do sit down, and permit me to offer you a brandy.”
He got up to pour each of them a hefty portion, delivered Sherbourne’s and resumed his seat. “It appears our honeymoon is over, and as my business here at Beckinsale House is concluded, we’ll return to London tomorrow. I’ll speak to Lucy and make a decision then.” He took a deep drink of brandy and stared down at the pattern in the parlor rug, admitting to himself he was a dismal failure at marital harmony. He had only to think of how it had been, how very much he had enjoyed, reveled even, in the past days, of their understanding of one another, and th
e swift loss of everything made him want to hit something. To cast his brandy across the room. To shout and howl and stomp upstairs and demand she recognize he did not betray her, wouldn’t contemplate such a thing, and he ever had her best interests and happiness at heart.
“She’s been in love with you from the start, of course. Never stopped, despite her running off and insisting she’d never see you again. In every letter, she asked after you, wondered if you’d yet got your heir, if I had seen you, if you seemed happy. She fretted endlessly about jilting you, afraid it would serve a permanent scar upon your reputation. I dutifully reported your comings and goings, your acquisition of a new bride, her sad and untimely demise, and later, the third bride, and her death. She wrote and expressed her sorrow and concern, and there was a good amount of splotched ink in those letters. Jane was never one to cry, but you have the singular distinction of one with the ability to bring her emotions to the fore. I daresay because she loves you.”
Michael remembered she’d said she had wept over a letter from home. He had taken a third wife, and the news made her cry. The truth of it hit Michael and he felt a bit short of breath. She hadn’t come back to marry him because he was the only way she could reinstate her respectability. She had come back to marry him because she loved him. How could he be so blind? Her words of only a few mornings ago came back to him. You have to allow me to love you, if it comes to that. Promise me that much, at least. I believe I’m halfway there already.
What must she have thought when he told her he would never love her, that he couldn’t allow it, couldn’t risk madness if he were to lose her? She’d said it didn’t matter, that she was content merely to be in his affections. Now, she perceived that he’d betrayed her, and she must surely be grieving, upstairs in their bedchamber. He had unintentionally hurt her, yet again, and he didn’t know if she would be able to forgive him this time.
The thought was so depressing, he slumped in his chair and wondered how a methodical, rational, reasonable man could make such a mess of things.
Sherbourne took a drink of his brandy and gave him a long, silent look before he said softly, “It won’t be easy to convince her your betrayal was slight, and meant only for her benefit, but I suspect you’re up to it. The love of a woman is always worth whatever price must be paid.”
Michael eyed his father-in-law curiously. He began to understand how Lucy might have fallen in love with him. “Sherbourne, you astonish me. Am I forgiven, then, for ravishing her, for maligning her afterward, for angering her to such an extent, she took off for Scotland, rather than marry me?”
He appeared to give it some thought, rather than rushing to reassure him. Michael’s respect for the man inched further upward.
At last, he said, “Perhaps when you have a daughter of your own, you’ll better understand my feelings. I admit I’m in no way objective when it comes to Jane. To me, she is simply wonderful, can do no wrong. If I’m forced to see any shortcoming, it angers me, not at her, but at the one forcing me to look. I’m not sure if this makes any sense at all, but I knew, that morning, you were not entirely the villain. She was in love with you, was quite obvious in her attentions. I should have told her to contain herself, but I didn’t, because I spoiled her and let her have her way all of her life. I imagine what you said to her was in way of admonishment for traipsing about the house half dressed, in the middle of the night. I’d also assume you were less than impressed with her choices of masculine pastimes. I’d been called to task for this on a number of occasions by my brother’s widow, but I didn’t listen. I insisted Jane was not one for feminine pursuits, but in truth, it was selfishness on my part, because I wasn’t interested, and had no patience for such things.”
He drank more of his brandy and smiled, albeit a bit sadly. “I truly enjoy children, and loved every moment of raising mine. Jane was my last, and so like her mother. I wanted her with me, as much as possible, and as I wasn’t going to begin stitching, or watercolors, or any proper missish activities in order to spend time with her, I took her about with me to the sheep farms, to see the crops, and visit tenants. I taught her to shoot, and ride, showed her the fundamentals of horse breeding. It was selfish on my part, and I regret she’s not accomplished in ladylike pursuits, but as I said, I can see no fault in my child. To me, she is perfection, a loving, compassionate, capable woman. I see that to one who is not her doting papa, she may be lacking. Your obvious distaste for her pursuits, despite your attraction to her as a female, rather painfully pointed this out to me that morning, and I wanted to kill you for it.”
“Perhaps I should thank you for your forbearance?”
He lifted a brow. “I most likely would have killed you, except that I knew Jane loved you, I suspected you had some feelings for her, as you would not have taken liberties if you did not, and I believed insisting she marry you was possibly the best of outcomes. I figured, over time, the two of you would work out your differences and be sublimely happy. I didn’t foresee that she would run, and once she did, I couldn’t force her to come back and see it through.” He sighed. “Would that I had.”
After a pause, he sat up a bit straighter and met Michael’s gaze directly. “After your third duchess passed, I wrote to Jane and suggested she come home, at last, and see you, to apologize in person and put the past behind her, so she could move on and perhaps find some peace and contentment. I mentioned that you would undoubtedly have some difficulty finding a fourth bride, owing to your misfortunes with the first three, then casually suggested she might still marry, despite her ruination, that there were a number of gentlemen of reduced circumstances who’d be willing to look past all that and love her for her fortune.”
Michael was shocked. Truly astounded. “Surely you didn’t say such a thing to her!”
“Oh, but I did. I knew it would get her back up, but I also knew it would set her to thinking, to wondering, now that you were free again, if perhaps she might marry you, after all. I was convinced, from four years of letters asking after you, that she was still in love with you. Within a month of my letter, she wrote to say she would come home, at last, and asked my assistance to see you again, that she could apologize.” He glanced around the parlor. “And here we are, not quite three weeks since your meeting at the Manderly ball. I do hope you’ll give this your best effort, Blixford. I have come to see you in a far different light, and am convinced, despite my earlier anger with you and disappointment over the entire situation, that you and Jane are extremely well suited, and have the prospect of a very happy union. Unfortunately, I believe you’ll have to be the impetus to make this happen.” He sighed deeply. “It will require a fair amount of hard work.”
“I’ve heard it said that hard work is its own reward.” Despite the pall cast upon him, Michael smiled. “She’s certainly an unusual woman, and I’m constantly surprised by her. In truth, I wouldn’t have her any other way. She’s devoted to you and her brothers, and I’m well able to see why she would be so upset that you know anything of what happened to her. She sees it as her fault, her shame, and won’t allow that she was duped and misused by a blackguard of no honor. I’m planning his comeuppance, by the bye.”
Sherbourne’s eyes glittered with relish. “You will, of course, allow me to assist you, if at all possible?”
“I’ll be only too happy to do so. After today, I’ll be even more committed to the task, for it appears that, even now, he’s interfering in my wife’s happiness.”
“Poor Jane, my heart breaks for her. I wish she’d see that this doesn’t lower my estimation of her, but she will believe it until I prove otherwise. It will be difficult, but I’ll succeed.”
“You must have some intrinsic understanding of women, because she respects and loves you so much. You also apparently had a harmonious and happy marriage. I wonder how you went about it? What is the secret to providing a wife with happiness?”
“It’s not so very difficult.” His father-in-law relaxed in his chair and smiled at him. “Within re
ason, when possible, admit you are wrong, even when you’re convinced you’re right. You should say you’re sorry, even when you cannot fathom how you have erred, or why she’s so angry with you. It’s also wise to bestow gifts, not necessarily of value, but thoughtful tokens. Just last week, I gave your sister a set of pencils and a package of drawing paper, because she hadn’t brought any from home, not planning to stay longer than one night. You’d have thought I handed her the crown jewels.”
He took another drink and stared intently at the portrait of Mrs. Hopping that hung above the mantel. “Never criticize her family. No matter how much she may criticize them, never vocally agree with her, even if you do. If she asks if she appears to have put on weight, deny it, even if she’s grown heavy with child and fair waddles. These things should all be applied in double doses when she’s in her courses. They’re downright mean at times, and you’re powerless in the face of it, trust me. No amount of reason will work. Just get down and grovel and be done with it.”
“Wise words, but sometimes difficult to put into action.”
“True, but it does become worth it, you know. Women don’t expect so much, in truth. They need to know they are cared for, that they are loved, respected and appreciated, and they require a certain amount of affection. They’re also deuced sensitive about the offspring, so have a care before you criticize her mothering skills. I’ve come to believe they view it much as we would react were another man to call us dishonorable. It is the greatest insult. Truth be told, they generally know, much better than we do, the physical needs of a child.”
Michael drained his brandy and went for more. “You’ll forgive me for speaking plainly, as this does concern your daughter, but I’d say after today, it may be many, many years before we have any offspring.” He looked toward the door. Would she let him in her bed at all? “I suspect I’ll be sleeping down the hall tonight.” He looked at Sherbourne and a bit of his helplessness must have shown.
The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series) Page 26