by Burnett, May
“Now that I am about to marry so quickly, there will be a great deal of unpleasant talk. A duel with Fenton would just make it worse. I would not put it past him to spread baseless rumours about me in revenge. He’ll be angry enough that I am marrying another and he must lose his bet.”
But Jeremy, having given up on an immediate challenge to Northcote, was not about to make any additional concessions. He advised her not to worry her pretty head about it, and presently left, to her unvoiced relief.
She should not be hanging about the house to receiving scold after scold, but go out and about, head high, to forestall any rumours about to circulate. Her aunt Penelope was expecting her for her usual afternoon at home … in fact, it was high time she went to change.
Chapter 8
When Susan arrived at her aunt’s house, only a short distance away, she found Lady Cirrell entertaining Mrs. Edwin Penworthy and her two eldest daughters, as well as the Hon. Gerald Arbuthnot. Susan had never liked that sly and malicious young man. The younger Miss Penworthy was so shy she almost never opened her mouth in company.
Susan was not fond of morning visits, which despite the name were actually paid in the afternoon. Most participants in this daily ritual made a sport out of scoring social points against each other, a pastime that had always struck her as a great waste of time. However, after the violent emotions of this morning, the usual gossip might be almost soothing in comparison.
As Susan accepted a cup of tea from her aunt, Mrs. Penworthy expounded at tedious length on her eldest daughter’s engagement. “It will not do, to be so very hard to please,” she added with a sideways look in Susan’s direction. “Sooner than you think the season goes past, and then the second and the third. I myself married Mr. Penworthy in my very first season, at just eighteen.”
“I am sure he was conscious of his good luck,” Susan commented with a bland smile.
“Yes indeed, and though he was a very warm man himself my dowry of thirty thousand pounds came in very usefully. He refurbished the Manor and bought two new hunters as soon as the knot was tied.”
“But marriage lasts far longer than the best horse,” Arbuthnot said. “Even worse, it makes every year seem like an eternity.”
“Do your brothers also like to hunt, Lady Susan?” the older Miss Penworthy asked.
“Yes, though it is not their ruling passion, as it is for so many sporting young gentlemen.” Susan did not add that she herself hunted on occasion, and found the fast pace exhilarating, though she disliked witnessing the kill. Would North want to spend her own dowry on expensive hunters? She knew so little about him.
Lady Cirrell smiled lazily at her niece. “How many seasons do you think you will need to meet the gentleman you will marry, Susan?”
“Society consists of such a limited number of families, there is a good chance that I have already met him,” Susan said lightly. Five pairs of eyes focused on her in keen surmise. “Sometimes it takes a little time to discover the finer qualities of one’s acquaintances.”
“Provided they have any in the first place,” Arbuthnot sneered.
“But do you not believe in the coup de foudre?” the younger Miss Penworthy asked, sounding upset at Susan’s unromantic pronouncement.
“Love striking like a bolt of lightning? Who wants to be stuck by lightning, when you think about it? It is dangerous, often fatal, and uncomfortable at best.”
“I must agree,” her aunt supported Susan. “All these modern notions of falling violently in love, usually with a most unsuitable subject, are so much nonsense. I wish young girls nowadays did not stuff their heads with silly romantic novels, and regarded marriage as a serious business for which one had best use a cool head.”
“Yes indeed, Lady Cirrell,” Mrs. Penworthy said, with a reproving look at her younger daughter.
“But how sad if you never knew true love, during all your life!” that young lady retorted with unusual daring.
Lady Cirrell shrugged. “In my generation we left that part for later, it does not necessarily have anything to do with marriage.”
“Times have changed since then, Ma’am,” Miss Penworthy said stiffly, while her younger sister gaped.
“Well, if you say so,” Lady Cirrell seemed disinclined pursue the subject further, “your fiancé should be happy to know this is how you feel. Is it time for our walk in the park yet, Susan? Will you and your daughters join us for a turn, Mrs. Penworthy?”
“Thank you, we have other calls to make.” The group of four rose and withdrew after an elaborate leave-taking.
“So you recommend that one do not fall in love before being safely married, Aunt?” Had her aunt had spoken in earnest? More likely she had merely been teasing her guests.
“It was certainly the practice in my generation; still is, we are not yet in our dotage.” At fifty, Lady Cirrell was indeed still a handsome woman. “They were shocked because for all their pretensions at gentility, the Penworthies have a petty-bourgeois morality. That is more and more common these days. I wonder why.”
“A wish to be different from the reviled former regent?” Susan suggested. “Or to retain moral ascendancy over the encroaching commercial classes?”
“Either of those would be a sign of weakness. We used not to care what other classes thought. It may just be a change in the air; these sometimes come for no particular reason. Your generation is more prudish than mine, and I suspect your children may be primmer still. It’s not something you should be proud of, in my opinion. Prudishness has nothing at all to do with virtue. In fact it tends to accompany a prurient mind and unwholesome imagination.”
Susan wondered how her aunt could know this, and was forcibly put in mind of Abigail’s step-mother, compared to whom even Mrs. Penworthy must be considered worldly and liberal.
Arrayed in light pelisses over their muslin walking dresses, for the afternoon weather looked uncertain, the two ladies crossed the street towards the nearby entrance to Hyde Park. A footman followed at a respectful distance, carrying their umbrellas.
“Now that we are alone,” Lady Cirrell commanded, “tell me all. Did I understand your hint correctly – have you made your choice, and are you to be married? To whom? How soon?”
“Baron Northcote, from an old Cornish family. You will have seen him around: just over medium height, darkish, slender, late twenties.”
Her aunt stopped short in surprise. “He’s a complete nobody, Susan! And impoverished. He’s said to gamble, too, or was that the other brother? Susan, why would you throw yourself away like that? Tell me this is just a joke in poor taste - it doesn’t make sense!”
“Does it have to make sense, Aunt Penelope?”
“If you were the younger Penworthy chit,” Lady Cirrell said, “I could believe that love conquers all, or some such farradiddle, but don’t forget that I know you, probably as well as anybody does. Don’t try to tell me you are madly in love with this young man, for I would not believe you.”
“Well, in that case there’s no point in telling you anything, except that I am convinced that he will make me an amiable husband.”
“That’s not enough to jump into a marriage, Susan, at least not by itself. You should feel a certain degree of physical attraction, friendship and respect, and with luck you can build on those foundations.”
“I believe we have a reasonable chance of success, Aunt. You may call me petty-bourgeoise too, for I certainly do not intend to look for love outside marriage, as you were recommending earlier.”
“Hah! Much you know about it! Sometimes it comes looking for you, no matter how much you resist.” Susan understood the warning, but was not impressed. She was too much mistress of her emotions to fear such an unfortunate eventuality. Did her aunt Penelope speak from personal experience? If so, who could have been the object of her passion? She had been widowed for some five years, and never made the least push towards remarriage. Whoever had been her aunt’s illicit love, it was probably long over. Unless the man was marr
ied… Susan decided not to pursue that line of thought, in view of her own much more urgent concerns.
For a few minutes they walked in silence, each lady deep in her own thoughts, by common accord avoiding the more crowded paths. “Has your father given his consent yet?” Lady Cirrell asked at length. “Surely he would not allow such a poor match.”
“He did give his consent, only this morning.”
“And when is the wedding to take place?”
“In two weeks.”
“Good God!” Lady Cirrell looked at her niece suspiciously. “Is there something you have not told me about this sudden betrothal?”
“You may draw your own conclusions, Aunt, but I would very much like your support for my marriage.”
“You know you have that, whatever happens, my dear.” She scrutinized Susan in a slightly unnerving fashion. “You don’t look pregnant.”
Susan blinked at the indelicate word. “Can one tell just by looking?”
“In many cases, yes, particularly when you see the person frequently. The skin tone and eyes change, albeit slightly. It is clear to me that there is some mystery involved in your wedding plans, though probably not the obvious one. So I’ll just ask, are you quite sure this is what you want to do with your life? You only have the one. Is there no better solution?”
“I have given my word, Aunt, and I do believe there is a good chance of eventual happiness. You will like North, I think, when you get to know him.”
Lady Cirrell looked as though she had many more objections, but in the end she merely stated, “Well then, if this wedding is only two weeks off, we had better start with the preparations right away. Why did you not say so immediately, instead of wasting valuable time with the Penworthy clan?”
“I preferred not to discuss the matter in front of them, of course. There will be gossip aplenty, but I had rather not hear Arbuthnot’s malicious comments to my face.”
“He is a toad,” Lady Cirrell agreed. “But received everywhere, unfortunately. I wonder if he is interested in the younger Penworthy girl, since he came with them. She has a dowry of twenty thousand.”
“But she’s looking for the coup de foudre. That’s not likely to happen with Arbuthnot, unless she’s more foolish than I believe. In fact, of the whole family, I like the younger girl best.”
“Never mind her, we have to draw up the guest list right away, and there are a hundred other details –, good afternoon, Lady Mises.” They stopped to exchange observations about the weather with this elderly Viscountess, and several other persons, including two officers in guard uniforms, who discreetly ogled Susan. She would not miss these walks in the park, once she was far away in Cornwall. As exercise it was too slow and mild, especially with these constant interruptions. A bruising ride, now – but that, drat it, was not advisable in the immediate future. Certainly not before the marriage and her arrival in Cornwall. Who knew what kind of horses she would find there. She had to arrange for her favourite mare to be sent along – but that would look suspicious as well.
She sighed, unaware of the admiring and concerned gaze of several gentlemen, wondering what could have saddened the celebrated, self-possessed Lady Susan to such extent.
By tomorrow they would all read of her betrothal in the Morning Post. She had to look unconcerned, happy, if at all possible.
And why should she not be happy? The only thing wrong with her intended was a lack of money, and that would be remedied with her own large dowry. She was determined to be pleased with his person and home, and if he was of like mind, they might be happy, whatever anyone else might think.
Couldn’t they?
Chapter 9
Jeremy and his two brothers were scouring the town for Lord Northcote, the future brother-in-law they were already united in hating.
“Doesn’t he have a club?” Barnaby wondered. “None of the better-known ones seem to know him.”
“Maybe he cannot afford the fees,” Theodore speculated, kicking at a kerb. “Do you suppose he is lying low, the way Fenton has been doing? Why does our sister attract these rotten villains?”
“I’m sure it’s not through any fault or action of Susan’s own,” Jeremy said. “They may be attracted to her, as dark is attracted to light, but it is our job to make sure she does not succumb to them. We have fallen down on that duty, I fear, or she would not even now be planning to marry Northcote.”
“We could not always be around her,” Barnaby said defensively.
“She shouldn’t have been allowed to go on week-long house parties without our aunt or one of us along,” Jeremy pronounced. He had devoted a great deal of thought to the issue recently. “They lead to unfortunate closeness with undesirable men and occasions for mischief. Most of the married guests attend in order to indulge in affairs with each other – Susan should not have been exposed to all that.”
“Even so, I cannot conceive how this man Northcote got around her,” Theodore said. “She’s quite up to snuff, I should have thought. Remember how she slapped Fenton when he took liberties. Why didn’t she slap Northcote too?”
“I prefer not to think of the reasons,” Jeremy said, not hiding his anger, “but he’ll feel my wrath before too much time has passed.”
***
North had been paying off his tailor and other suppliers with a loan his bank had pressed upon him as soon as the announcement of his engagement had appeared in the Morning Post. At least he would not leave any liabilities behind when he departed on his wedding journey. He had already arranged with the bank to send a draft for the entire outstanding sum to Lord Thomas, as soon as the dowry was transferred. That would see him more or less debt free for the first time since his brother’s suicide.
Deep in thought, he nearly ran into the three tall young men suddenly blocking his path.
“You cur!” the second oldest exclaimed.
Ah. Susan’s brothers.
“Hello, Barton,” he said warily. “Come to offer your good wishes?”
The youngest of the trio actually growled at the provocative question.
“We strongly object to your match with our sister,” the middle one said. His fists were clenched.
“I see – and what do you propose to do about it, here on the open street?”
“This,” Barton said. His fist shot out in what would have been a nicely judged left hook, had North not been on his guard and swiftly dodged.
“Fisticuffs in public? Fie, Barton, that is hardly going to please your sister. Think of her reputation.” He made his voice a lazy drawl, and had the satisfaction of further enraging the three young hotheads. Had they been under his command in the army, he’d have known how to deal with their kind.
They appeared close to throwing all caution to the wind and pummelling North there and then. A small crowd of onlookers was gathering, avid for entertainment.
Barton glanced at the audience. “This is not the time or place,” he said, “but we’ll catch you unaware, some day or night – you won’t be safe until you have been punished.”
“And after that you won’t be alive,” the youngest brother added darkly.
North shrugged. “I’ve survived the wars. I’m pretty sure I can survive you three as well.” He deliberately turned and went on his way, trusting that they would not strike his back in front of so many witnesses.
Had his own sister been in Susan’s place, he would probably have reacted similarly to her brothers. They were rank amateurs - he’d have followed his quarry to some deserted spot, and beaten him into pulp. Maybe he underestimated them; he’d best avoid lonely spots, just in case.
North still had to visit his solicitor and his club, the Ares, popular with officers. Though it was far less expensive than some of the better known clubs, he had fallen behind on the subscription since inheriting Edward’s debts, and was glad now to hand over his dues for the whole year, as well as the next.
When would he get back from Cornwall? There would be work enough there to keep him busy for
years, he suspected. On the other hand, Lady Susan would probably take one look at the dilapidated castle and run straight back to town. It was odd, this determination of hers to leave London right after the wedding. She definitely was not showing yet, so her great hurry seemed excessive.
He had made arrangements with his bankers to draw on his future wealth from Cornwall, for all the overdue repairs and refurbishments and their living expenses. How much more money did a couple need, than a single person? His sister would also need new clothes and who knew what else.
Lunch at his Club proved convivial and pleasant. Since non-members were not admitted he could relax here. The worst he had to endure was good-natured and envious chaffing from various fellow members.
“The most coveted belle and an heiress to boot! How did you manage it? I have been betting on all the wrong suitors,” one young lieutenant complained. “Had I had the least idea she would accept you, I could have made a fortune. A hundred to one odds would have been easy to obtain. Now it’s too late.”
“Some are betting if the marriage will actually go through,” a major said, grinning evilly. “What say you, North?”
He shrugged. “I shall be at the church on time – but that’s all I can guarantee.”
“Nobody doubts that, North, it is the lady and her family that we find hard to understand. No disrespect, but this match simply defies social logic.”
“Social logic? What is that?”
His attempt to distract the major was successful; the fellow instantly began to develop his observations and theories on the workings of polite society.
“You should write all that down in a book,” North commented when the officer stopped for breath after several minutes.
“You really think so? Don’t write so well these days,” the Major replied.
North glanced at the empty right sleeve and shrugged. “It should not be hard to find someone to take dictation. Try a female, they tend to charge less.”