She said nothing, only gripping her letter rather tightly. She had wondered so much about him, what had happened to him and why he had chosen Lord Bentley as her guardian. Yes, he must have been a man of some standing! But it did no good to think about it. He had not wanted her to know who he was, so it was best left alone.
“Is there a library here?” she said brightly.
Late in the morning, as Melissa was gazing in awe at the endless rows of books in the vast library, a carriage rattled up the drive.
“Ah, Harriet is home,” Monty said. “My sister.”
The Lady Harriet Marford was thirty years of age, with a head of dark curls, mischievous eyes and a warm smile. Within two minutes of arriving in the house, she was peeping round the library door, her smile widening when she saw them.
“There you are, Monty! What is this I hear about a betrothal? Normally when I arrive home and ask Crabbe what has been happening, all I hear is ‘Lady Hester is a little better’ or ‘Lady Hester is a little worse’, but ‘Lord Montague is betrothed’ is a new experience. And is this the lady? Oh, yes, yes, Mrs Compton, do take my bonnet if you please, and help me off with this pelisse. Crabbe, be so good as to send in some tea. You will like some tea, Miss Frost, I am sure. Thank you, Mrs Compton. Oh, Fitch, yes, that box is full of cheese for the kitchen, something quite special from France, as I understand it, although it is rather fresh, I am afraid, so it may be necessary to keep it in the cellar. Goodness, I can smell it from here! I could not keep it in the carriage with me, for Martingale felt quite faint with it so close, so John Coachman had to have it under the box, which was quite all right, for he cannot smell anything since that accident when he was a beater. There, my dear, do let us sit down and have a comfortable coze. And Monty, you are not at all wanted in a female conversation so you may go away.”
Melissa was quite dizzy by this time, and could do nothing but sit in the chair opposite Lady Harriet, and try not to let her mouth flap open in amazement.
Monty smiled fondly at his sister. “And did Crabbe also tell you that I have a living, Hatty?”
“No! Truly? Where?”
“Kirby Grosswick.”
“Mr Whittaker? Well, he must have been ninety if he was a day, and a dry old stick, but I am very sorry for it, all the same. He used to ride around everywhere on a donkey, do you remember? He said if it was good enough for Our Lord, it was good enough for him. Such an eccentric old gentleman! Well, that is soon than we had expected, but it is not a terribly good living, Monty. What is it, two or three hundred a year? But now, go away, do, for I want to talk to Miss Frost.”
He laughed, and made her an ironic bow before quitting the room.
“Now we may be comfortable, Miss Frost. I do beg your pardon, but I have not introduced myself properly. One tends to assume everyone knows one, does one not? I am Lady Harriet Marford, as I am sure you have worked out already.”
Melissa laughed. “Indeed I have. Melissa Frost. From… Falmouth.”
“Oh! You are a long way from home, Miss Frost. And how long have you known Monty?”
“About…” She did the sums in her head. “…twenty hours.”
For the first time, Lady Harriet was silenced, her eyes wide with astonishment. Then she chortled. “There is a story here, I see. Do enlighten me.”
So Melissa explained about the bet and the letter, and how she had travelled north to marry the Earl of Deveron, only to find him a child of four. “And so Lord Montague offered to marry me instead, for he felt it was a matter of honour.”
“Oh, I can well believe it,” Lady Harriet said. “Monty has the most delicate sense of honour in the world. If he sees a single creature in distress, he must needs rescue it at once. When he was very small, he rescued some young ducklings that had become separated from their mother. They were newly hatched, and so they thought he was their mother and followed him everywhere, until Luther, the butler then, got cross and dispatched them all. Monty cried for days. Such a sensitive soul, and naturally he would feel obliged to offer for you. But you have accepted him?”
“Oh yes. I have no family, and nowhere else to go,” she said, quite truthfully. “I am very grateful to him.”
The tea arrived just then, and for a few minutes conversation was suspended while the little ceremony of pouring was carried out. But when the butler and footman had withdrawn, Lady Harriet said, “So how were you managing before you came here, Miss Frost? Have you been alone in the world for long?”
Now she was called upon to tell her little story. “No, only a month or so. My parents both died many years ago, and then I lived with my guardian, Mr Knatchbull and his sister in Falmouth. But he died two years ago, and his sister died a month ago. Finding myself without a friend in the world to call my own, I spent my last coins to take the stage coach north to find the husband who was promised to me.” It had sounded much better in the silence of her own room at Bentley Hall. Now, over the teacups, she saw the disbelief on Lady Harriet’s face.
“You had no friends at all in Falmouth?”
“No one. Mr and Miss Knatchbull lived very quiet and never went into society, so I knew no one.”
“Which way did you come on the stage coach?”
That was tricky. “To… to Devizes, and then north to… to Oxford.”
“Really. You did not come through London?”
Melissa licked her lips nervously. “Um… no.”
Lady Harriet rose and opened one of the many cases of books. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out a battered book. “Now then, Miss Frost, here is the timetable of stage coaches throughout England. It is not the most recent edition, but I daresay it will serve the purpose. Do, pray, show me how you got from Falmouth to Sagborough by way of Devizes and Oxford. For I assure you, there is no way that it may be done.”
4: Brothers And Sisters And Cousins
Monty was quite calm. No matter what was said about Miss Frost, he was perfectly content with his decision, and had no cause to regret it.
“She is not from Falmouth,” Harriet said, lips pursed in disapproval. “She will not say where she has been living until now, or anything about her circumstances, except that her parents and her guardian are dead, and she is quite alone in the world. So she has come here to try her luck with us, and happened upon the very person to fall for her schemes.”
“It is really too bad,” Carrbridge said. “I will not have you taken advantage of in this way, Monty.”
They were gathered in the ship room in the gathering winter gloom of late afternoon, the lamps already lit, the rain still lashing down outside.
“No one is taking advantage of me,” Monty said mildly. “Hatty, you did not see Miss Frost when she first arrived, completely soaked through, for she had walked all the way from Mishmere Cross. You must have sympathised with her plight if you had seen her.”
“I am sure I am very sorry for her, but being wet does not give anyone the right to marry you. We should give her the coach fare and send her on her way back to… wherever she came from.”
“And she would not go,” Monty said. “If she has no family and friends, and was so destitute that she left there in the first place, she will hardly go back there of her own accord.”
“I do not like being misled,” Carrbridge said fretfully. “She may be as poor and wet as she likes, but she should not try to bamboozle us. Lady Carrbridge, what is your opinion of Miss Frost?”
Connie smoothed her skirts, twisting her lips as she thought. “I rather like her,” she said at length. “She came here on the stage coach, all alone, with nothing but a portmanteau, which I suspect contains all that she owns. Her clothes are of good quality but have been mended a great deal, which gives me a very poor opinion of her guardian, whoever he may be. And yet she is well educated, speaks with a good accent, and her manners cannot be faulted, so she has been brought up in a good family. You have seen how well she looks and behaves when she is properly dressed. I truly believe she is escaping
from some dire situation, and deserves our sympathy, not condemnation.”
“And there is still the letter from Father,” Monty said gently. “That alone gives her the right to our compassion.”
“One might be very compassionate without marrying the girl,” said Uncle Lucius.
“Yes, indeed,” Carrbridge said. “You do not need to marry Miss Frost. Something else may be done for her, perhaps.”
Merton cleared his throat. “If she is indeed well-educated, perhaps a position as governess may be arranged for her?”
“No,” Monty said quietly. “The question of what to do with Miss Frost is already settled. She is to become my wife, and for myself, I have no great desire to know any more of her history. No doubt she will tell us as much as she wishes us to know.”
Carrbridge threw his hands into the air. “You are determined to be a martyr, I see.”
Monty smiled, shaking his head in bemusement. “It is hardly martyrdom to marry a pretty and amiable young lady, brother. The impulse to marry her may have been compassionate, but that does not make it a penance. It will suit me very well to have a wife to provide me with a comfortable home to return to when my spiritual duties are finished each day.”
“Hmpf. At least wait a while before the banns are called, Monty, for who knows what else we may discover about her?”
“I see little point in waiting, but it shall be for Miss Frost to determine the date,” he said.
“But you will not object, my lord, if I make some discreet enquiries?” Merton said.
“Excellent idea,” Carrbridge said. “And if you can find out something about her father, Merton, that would be helpful, for how can one put a notice in the paper as things stand? One cannot say, ‘Miss Frost, daughter of Mr Thomas Frost, deceased, who did not live at Falmouth’. If indeed he is deceased, or even called Frost, for who knows what stories she may be telling us? Monty’s ancestors are known almost back to the Conquest, whereas Miss Frost…”
“Quite so,” Merton said. “I shall see what may be found out. If Lord Montague has no objection?”
“As you please,” Monty said calmly. “It is of no consequence to me.”
“In any event, you must get your parsonage ready before you can marry,” Connie said brightly. “I daresay that will take some time. And while that is being done, we may all get to know Miss Frost a little better.”
~~~~~
As the days passed, Melissa began to grow accustomed to the grandeur of Drummoor, and could find her way about without getting lost more than once or twice a day. She still could not quite believe she lived in such a wonderful place. Every meal was a glorious feast, in the evenings she was surrounded by interesting conversations or could stretch her mind with cards, and during the day she could hide away in the library and read as much as she wanted. Nothing was said about her non-existent boxes, but her wardrobe gradually filled with an array of delicious gowns and shoes and bonnets, while the chest of drawers held fans and silk stockings and soft kidskin gloves.
“I shall not need this again,” Lady Carrbridge would say, “and the colour is perfect for you”, as she brought yet another confection for Melissa.
Monty, bless him, had taken himself to York one day and returned, smiling shyly, with some small packages from a jeweller.
“A betrothal present,” he said, fastening an enchanting garnet bracelet around her wrist and a drop pendant around her throat. “Once we are married, I shall buy you some proper jewellery.”
Proper jewellery. Melissa could not shake off the feeling that she was dreaming. Surely soon she would wake up, and there would be the usual pile of curtains or sheets to sew, and Mr Pontefract’s heavy breathing as he ogled her. Or worse than heavy breathing. In her darker moments, she remembered the earl’s threat to show Mr Pontefract to her bedroom.
She was introduced to two more Marford brothers, Lord Reginald and Lord Humphrey, who lived nearby with their wives, and discovered that there were another two, Lord Augustus, who had settled in Northumberland and was shortly to be married, and Lord Gilbert, who was in the Hussars, and was presently in Kent recovering from an injury. She got to know Mr and Mrs Allamont, who were sister and brother-in-law to Lady Carrbridge, and then a cousin arrived, a Lady Hardy, who was a widow. Melissa began to feel a quite unaccustomed degree of happiness in having so many congenial people around her.
Lord Carrbridge and his brothers went off in the heavy skies of early December to support Lord Augustus through the ordeal of matrimony. Lady Harriet rolled her eyes and declared it a great piece of nonsense to be travelling about at such a dark time of year, and all for such a foolish reason as to see their brother married.
“It would be more sensible to send Connie, for she at least would be able to report faithfully on the fashions pertaining in the frozen north, and whether the bride blushed to the requisite degree, and if the new carriage be large or small, whereas the men will be hard put to it to remember whether Gus wore a blue coat or a red. They will no doubt tell us all about these horses he is to manage up there, and we shall hear nothing else for weeks and weeks.”
“I think it very touching that they should go so far for their brother,” Lady Hardy said. “It shows a very proper family feeling.”
“They have always been close,” Lady Harriet said. “It was like having an army in the house when they were boys. Always on the rampage.”
“But how lovely to have so many brothers!” Mrs Allamont said. “You are so lucky, Lady Harriet. They have grown up into such splendid young men, too. Not like mine, who are not at all the thing.”
“Two of mine are not much better,” Lady Hardy said. “But Hugo turned out well, did he not, Hope?”
And Mrs Allamont blushed and agreed that her husband had indeed turned out well. “And Miss Frost is marrying just such an excellent man. Lord Montague is such a good person, do you not agree?”
“Oh, terribly good,” Lady Harriet said impatiently. “What could be more dispiriting than a worthy clergyman? And he gets so preachy if one wants to read a novel on a Sunday, or do anything other than read sermons. You will have a very dull time of it, Miss Frost, I am sure.”
Melissa kept silent during any discussion of families. She had neither brothers nor sisters nor cousins, and although she had watched the previous Lady Bentley’s four children growing up, and had been close enough for them to call her their friend, it was not the same as being part of the family. She had always been an outsider. But for the first time, she felt the warmth of a family wrapping itself around her in the comforting manner of a warm shawl. The aunts were covertly hostile, and most of the uncles treated her with distant coolness, but the younger members of the family, even Lady Harriet, were beginning to feel perilously close to friends. What would she do if all this were snatched away from her now? What if Lord Bentley should find her and drag her back to her dank little attic room, and the terrible prospect of marriage to Mr Pontefract? She could not bear it. It would be better to be dead, she was quite sure.
Of the younger ladies, it was Lady Hardy she saw most. She was the widow of a baronet, although only in half mourning now, a handsome woman of perhaps a little above thirty. She was engaged in cataloguing the books in the library, a task which Melissa suspected would last her a lifetime, for the room was as big as a ballroom and lined from floor to ceiling with books. At first, Melissa sat in a big chair beside one of the fires, absorbed in her reading, but from time to time Lady Hardy asked her opinion of one or other book, in the most flattering manner, and gradually she became interested in the project. Not many days had passed before they were working together, one reading out the titles and names of the authors, while the other wrote the information down on a small card, which was then filed away in a drawer in a special cabinet.
Each morning, they spent two or three hours thus employed, and in the afternoons one or other of them would read to Lady Hester, the very frail old lady who kept to her bed and hardly seemed aware of anyone, but who was, he
r nurse said, more tranquil when she had company.
One day, Crabbe, the butler, entered with a silver salver. “Two letters for you, my lady,” he said to Lady Hardy. “And one for Miss Frost.”
“For me?” Melissa was so startled that she almost dropped the book she was holding. Who could possibly be writing to her? No one knew where she was. It was impossible. For an instant, panic swept over her. Had the earl found her? Or Mr Pontefract?
The butler’s eyes twinkled. “I believe it is from Lord Montague, madam.”
“Lord Montague! Oh. Of course.” She took it from the salver, but her hands were shaking so much that she dropped it, and the butler had to bend down to retrieve it for her. She broke the seal impatiently — how wonderful of him to write her a letter! It was perfectly unexceptional, hoping she was well, telling her that they had arrived safely at Castle Morton despite some sleet and very bad roads, looking forward to the two weddings, for the Duke of Dunmorton was to marry at the same time. A duke! She was marrying the son of a marquess who was attending the wedding of a duke. It all seemed so improbable for Miss Melissa Frost, daughter of who knows whom.
When Crabbe had withdrawn, Lady Hardy said, “Forgive me if I am impertinent, Miss Frost, but you looked quite frightened for a moment. Is there perhaps a letter that you do not wish to receive?”
Melissa chewed her lip, not knowing how to respond.
Lady Hardy went on, “I do not know the circumstances you left behind when you came here, my dear, nor do I mean to invite confidences you are unwilling to give, but you may be assured that you are quite safe here. Lord Carrbridge is a powerful man, and can protect you from a great deal of unpleasantness. However, it is easier for him to do that if he knows what sort of unpleasantness might arise.”
“Oh, there is nothing… unpleasant,” Melissa said hastily. “I have done nothing wrong, nothing at all.”
“I am sure you have not!” Lady Hardy said at once. “Who could ever suspect such a thing! You are too sensible and resourceful a girl to find yourself embroiled in any wrongdoing. And because you are so sensible, I know you will not take it amiss if I offer you a little advice. Here you are, all alone in the world, your only hope a letter written to your father years ago promising you marriage, and perhaps you are grasping at the prospect as the only future open to you. It would distress me greatly to see you rush into a situation which might not promote your greatest happiness. Now, do not imagine me as advocate for the idea that every marriage must be founded on romantic love, for I could hardly do so, given that my own marriage was not.”
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