The Irish Bride

by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

  “I thought perhaps we could beat up the fat in cakes, dear. I can’t think that Dr. Markaby thinks we should eat a spoonful in cold blood. I’m sure I couldn’t manage that.”

  Now Nick did laugh and chuck his mother under the chin. Then he called to the boy. “George, is it?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Here, George,” he said, tossing the book over. “Drown it.”

  “Sir?”

  “Toss it in the cistern—no, wait. It’d be indigestible. Throw it on the first fire you pass. And leave the South Lawn as ‘tis.”

  “Yessir!”

  “But, Nick ...” His mother’s forehead had relapsed into its usual fretful lines. “I’m sure it’s a most beneficial scheme.”

  “Undoubtedly, Mother. But I’ll stick to my beefsteaks and my ham. My health will remain in your capable hands, not those of some quack from London.” He raised her hands to his lips, then pressed them against his cheek. “You’re cold as the moon. I’m a dreadful son to let you stand so long out in the open. Come inside. I’ll ring for some tea.”

  He insisted she put her feet up on the sofa and covered her with the soft yet heavy Norwich shawl she’d carried in the garden. “I’m sure we can do more,” she said, “to save money. I don’t believe we waste a very great deal but it does seem to run away rather.”

  “It has that habit. I’ve only met two men in my life who felt they had enough money for their needs. One was rich as Dives; the other never had two brass farthings to rub together.”

  “And you.”

  “I? You’re too partial, Mother.”

  “No, I mean it. If it weren’t for me and the girls, you’d go along quite happily within the straitened means your father left to you. It is we three who cause you to worry over money.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, though in his heart he knew she was right. The income and securities his father hadn’t gambled away would have been enough to keep a bachelor in comfort even in a great barracks of a house. It would not stretch to keep four, two of whom required dowries.

  “Mother,” he began, then had to wait, impatiently, while the maid brought in the tea and set it out. As soon as the door closed again, he said, “Mother, I’ve met someone.”

  “A young lady?” She looked at him brightly and said, “I thought you might have. It’s the one you spoke of. Her carriage had broken down. Is it the younger daughter?”

  “No, the elder.”

  “I don’t think you mentioned her.”

  “I probably didn’t.”

  “The younger one was very pretty, or so you said.”

  “Yes, Blanche is the most beautiful girl I think that I’ve ever seen. But Rietta ...” He was aware of how closely his mother watched him and so let a hint of a smile show.

  “Rietta? How unusual. I don’t think I’ve heard that name in quite twenty years. I wanted to name Emma that, but your father would call her after an aunt. Awful woman. Used to smoke fat black cigars to keep the moths away from her draperies. Had a monkey, too.”

  “You’d think that would have been harder on the drapes than the moths. Anyway, Mother, Rietta is taller than Blanche and has red hair, not blond. Maybe she isn’t quite as striking ...”

  “Isn’t she, Nick? Then why are you interested in her? It isn’t her money, is it?”

  Chapter Seven

  She answered her own question before he had time to do more than look astonished. “No, of course it isn’t,” Lady Kirwan said. “Forgive me for even saying such a thing. It’s just that I’ve been so worried about money that I seem to see its shadow everywhere.”

  Nick poured her a little more tea. “It’s troublesome, Mother, but we’ll manage to support life without drastic measures. You’re to give me a list of all the things you’ve sold, and to whom, so I may retrieve them.”

  “They weren’t entailed things, Nick. They were either what I brought with me when I married your father, or things he’d given me.”

  “Nevertheless...”

  Lady Kirwan stirred her cup. “I shouldn’t want any of my children to marry for money. That’s why I was married.”

  “You married Father for his money? Grandfather Darcy must have been mad. Or blind.”

  “No, dear. Your father married me for my money. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Thirty years ago, a man was expected to make a prudent match. I’m not saying he wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been pretty ... I was pretty, you know. Something in Amelia’s style, if not quite so vivacious.”

  “I’ve seen your portrait.”

  She pursed her lips as though biting a gooseberry. “I never liked that one. I may have been plump, but I was never moon-faced!” She smiled when he did and then sighed. “We were all a little in love with Benjamin. He had such an air, such address, and he dressed exceedingly well. I remember one suit of spangled green velvet... I daresay you’d think it hideous, but we admired him very much.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t live then,” Nick said, smoothing the sleeve of his well-cut but otherwise unremarkable blue coat.

  “You’d look handsome no matter what you wore. You’ve better shoulders than your father; his coats were always padded. Of course, I didn’t know that then. It was quite a shock, I can tell you, the first time I saw him in shirtsleeves. By then, however, it was too late.” She sipped her tea with a resigned air and asked him to cut some cake for her.

  “You’ve never spoken of your marriage before.”

  “I suppose while your father was alive, it seemed disloyal. Naturally, I should not speak in this vein to your sisters. Girls have such a romantic dream of life. I know I did. By the time I woke up to the reality, I was already married and you were on the way.”

  “Surely Father never told you that he married you for money. He couldn’t have admitted it.”

  “Not at first. He seemed so proud of me. I remember the tone of his voice when he introduced me as ‘m’wife.’ ” Lady Kirwan laughed as she tried to imitate her late husband’s gruff tones. “He paid me pretty compliments, never came home without some trinket or a bunch of flowers ... I was the envy of all my friends for the first six months, but the focus of their pity later.”

  “What changed?” Nick laid his hand over his mother’s.

  “I’m not certain anything did change. It was simply that Benjamin couldn’t keep up a pretense for very long. Sooner or later, the real man had to show his face. In that instance, bills began to pile up and dunning letters began arriving by every post. I’d never lived in debt and didn’t really know how to manage under those circumstances. There’d been some delay in my bride portion due to a loss my father had suffered shortly before our marriage. Benjamin began throwing that up to me and eventually told me to my face why he’d married me. By then I had guessed, but hearing it from his own lips ...”

  She paused and seemed to be listening, her eyes half closed, to voices echoing out of the past. “He slammed out of the house and I didn’t hear from him for three days. We were never the same after that.”

  Pulling free, she patted his hand, smiling. “You mustn’t think I’ve been miserable all these years. I had you and then your sisters. He was always kind to me when I was increasing, though he didn’t stay home very much after you. Sometimes Benjamin could be marvelously kind, but I was never central to his life after those first heady months.”

  Nick found it impossible to sit beside her another moment. His agitation required that he go to the window and stand, looking out, his back to his mother. “What of my sisters? What life do you see for them?”

  “My one consolation,” she said with great good humor, “in our reduced circumstances is that they need not fear being married for any reason beyond that of love. So long as they marry within their own sphere, my heart will never be troubled for them. My only worry is that you will act imprudently.”

  “Never fear, Mother. I shan’t do that.”

  ‘This young woman—this Rietta—she is of good character?”

  “She po
ssesses great strength of character.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “You mistake me. She isn’t overbearing, though I believe she has yet to learn to compromise.”

  “She doesn’t sound like the woman for you, my dear son. If you have learned to compromise, it is news to me.”

  “Yet if I were in love ...” He returned to the table.

  “Well, the Bible teaches us that with love, all things are possible. I don’t know how far one can push that promise, however. You’re not in love with Rietta Ferris, I take it?”

  “Give me time, Mother. I only met the lady three days ago. I’ll tell you plainly, though. I’ve never seen another woman who I would so readily make mine.”

  Lady Kirwan’s face lit up as she passed Nick the macaroons. “I pray every night that you’ll bring your bride to Greenwood while I am still here to see her.”

  “Come to Galway, Mother. You’ll see her. I promised her that you’d soon call upon her.”

  “I suppose I must, then. It would never do to make a liar out of you.”

  * * * *

  If Lady Kirwan was surprised to find herself being driven into Galway before two days had passed, she concealed it admirably. It was otherwise with Amelia. “I really don’t see why we must rush into an acquaintance with this young woman and her family.”

  “Because Nicholas wishes it, dear. I daresay we shall find her quite charming.”

  “I don’t trust Nick’s taste, Mother. She’s probably dreadfully vulgar. After all, he’s been in the army so long he’s probably forgotten what a nice girl is like.”

  “Amelia!”

  She slumped against the faded cushions in a most unladylike way. “He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go. Just ordered me into the carriage. Emma didn’t have to go. It isn’t as though I hadn’t made plans for today.”

  “Mr. Daltrey will take no harm through waiting for you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. What, pray, has Mr. Daltrey to do with my plans for the afternoon?” Amelia asked, giving her mother a very blank look before turning her head to look out of the window. “I do hope we have some time to go to the shops. Emma needed to match some embroidery floss.”

  “We won’t be buying anything today. Emma will have to learn to do plain sewing, not embroidery.”

  “It can do no harm to look.”

  “Yes, it can. We always buy some little thing that winds up costing a fortune, one way or another. We cannot afford such tricks now. Nicholas explained that we must track every farthing, not letting even one be wasted.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Amelia said, repressed for the moment.

  Nick swung down from Stamps’s back to open the carriage door for them, waving to Barry to stay on the box. He felt unaccustomedly nervous. Though Mr. Ferris had made it plain that they would be welcome, Nick couldn’t be sure of Rietta’s reaction. Her father had expressed doubts about springing Lady Kirwan upon Rietta. She was a highhanded girl and might be rude to his mother. Shooting his cuffs, he told himself he’d know how to handle any such behavior.

  * * * *

  “How do you do?” Rietta said, crossing the room to them, her smile warm and welcoming. She held out both hands, giving one to Lady Kirwan and one to Amelia. For Nick, she had a slight curtsey and a nod. Her eyes did not meet his for more than an instant.

  “Lady Kirwan, may I present my sister, Blanche.” Blanche’s curtsey was more graceful than her sister’s but her smile lacked Rietta’s warmth. Nor did she speak clearly, muttering her greeting like a sulky schoolgirl.

  Lady Kirwan seated herself on the settee at Rietta’s invitation. Nick’s resolution to keep Rietta within bounds evaporated, for it was plainly not needed. She was the gracious hostess to the life, inquiring into Lady Kirwan’s interests. They found in two words that their shared passion was gardening.

  “Living in town, of course, I haven’t the scope to indulge in the garden of my dreams. But I know just how I should arrange things if I had the opportunity.”

  “Everything good must start with a dream,” Lady Kirwan said. “You must tell me all about your garden.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid I change it all the time. It is my favorite thing to think of just before I go to sleep.”

  “I plan my garden just before I go to sleep myself. It’s so soothing.”

  “Yes,” Rietta said. Nick could tell now that her smile when they first arrived had been forced and false. The way she looked at his mother at this moment was different, gentle and true. “And it’s much easier to reshape a bed or a path in ones’ thoughts than in reality.”

  “Especially when one has only a single lad to help. Although I must say George Randolph listens much more attentively than his father ever did. Will Randolph had a head as hard as a stone. He’d never try anything new unless I wore him down.”

  “How exhausting!” She put her hands together in a suppliant’s prayer. “One day, Lady Kirwan, perhaps you would be so kind to look over the little plans I have drawn. Purely fantastic, of course, but I so like things to be precise. The advice of someone with experience would be invaluable.”

  “I should be more than happy,” said Lady Kirwan, looking up to meet Nick’s eyes. He saw nothing but approval there. “Have you them here now?”

  “They are in the library, but I don’t like to impose upon you.”

  “Nonsense, my dear child. Let me see them.”

  Rietta excused herself. Nick sauntered to the door a moment after she went through it. With a glance, he saw that Amelia was being heartily bored by Blanche who had achieved some animation by a recital of all her social triumphs. His mother, catching his eye, gave him an encouraging nod that sent him through the doorway after Rietta.

  He followed the sound of her voice. “No, she’s not ‘high in the instep’ at all, Father. She’s a very pleasantly spoken woman and I quite like the looks of her daughter. She looks as though she knows what it is to be a friend.”

  “All the same, I’ll stay safe in here. I don’t mind Sir Nick; he’s a likely lad with a friendly gleam in his eye. But I’ll have no dealings with titled ladies. They look down their noses at men like me.”

  At least, Nick thought in relief, he’d not suffered the usual fate of eavesdroppers. But then, he already knew Mr. Ferris liked him. It was Rietta’s sentiments that were in doubt. It had been unexpectedly hard to meet her eyes. The way she contrived never to look at him directly had told him that their kiss still lay between them. He wondered how many times she’d found herself reliving that moment. He’d lost count of the number of times it had enlivened his thoughts.

  “Very well, though I wish you would change your mind,” Rietta said, and Nick peered around the doorframe to watch her kiss her father’s cheek. Surely not the behavior of a shrew....

  “I’ve left Lady Kirwan and Miss Amelia with Blanche. It’s important they should come to know her well, don’t you think?”

  “Eh? Whyfore? ‘Tisn’t she they’ve come to see.”

  “No, but as you will not come out...”

  “Don’t be so silly, child. Tis you Sir Nick has his eye on this time.”

  “So he says, but I do not believe it.” She turned the bracelet on her wrist, keeping her eyes on that as she tried to express her feelings. “I cannot trust a man who, having seen Blanche, claims to prefer me. Such a man cannot exist. She is so very beautiful.”

  “So she is,” Mr. Ferris said, sighing. Then he rallied. “Yet you are not so ill-favored that no man would look on you. Many men prefer a nice, mature woman to a heedless girl.”

  Nick thought that that could have been more felicitously phrased. Rietta was no matron, staid and soft, but a creature of passions and strong will.

  “Besides which,” Mr. Ferris added, laughing in his throat, “can you picture our Blanche knowing the first thing about being the wife of a landowner? You’d take to it like a duck takes to living in a pond. Have it all understood in a fortnight.”

  “As the point will not ar
ise, Father, I don’t think we need discuss it any further.” She stirred the papers on Mr. Ferris’s desk. “Did you answer the letter from Cathcart and Dean?”

  “I read it over. It seems a capital notion on the face of it.”

  “Dig deeper,” she said with a dry laugh. “It’s their notion but your capital. I don’t believe they’ll find vast quantities of coal beneath the northern ice cap, and the cost of outfitting a research vessel is too great a burden for our present resources.”

  “You are too cautious, Rietta. Not every businessman is a hurly-burly fly-by-night sort of fellow. Take this gent here,” he urged, stirring among his papers. “He’s made a solid study of the existence of leprechauns and wants me to help back his work for the honor of Ireland. Now I can’t refuse an appeal like that! Think of what it would mean to Ireland.”

  “It seems to me that the credit of our country abroad is quite low enough without dragging the wee people into it,” Rietta said.

  “Wist!” Mr. Ferris looked about his chair carefully, especially scrutinizing the corners and the mirrors. “It’s terribly chancy to talk so with them so fresh from their winter rests.”

  “Yes, Father,” Rietta said, her smile indulgent. “I’ll tell Arabella to leave a cup of milk by the fire tonight for them.”

  Nick shrank back as she came out again into the hall. This time, however, he was careful not to startle her when he made his presence known. Nevertheless, it was only by a sudden clutch that she kept hold of the portfolio of papers in her hand. “Sir Nicholas! I thought you were still in the drawing room.”

  “My mother sent me after you.”

  “Did she? Why?”

  “You were away so long.”

  “Pray assure her I rarely get lost in my own home.”

  “You don’t? Then tell me—what’s this room?” Nick asked, crossing behind her to open a door on the other side from the library.

  “The dining room, as you well know since you have dined here recently,” she said, peering past him perhaps to see what he found so interesting.

  “Show me.” He took her hand and drew her inside. He felt her unwillingness yet she followed him into the dim, stuffy room. The air was heavy with stale candle smoke through which the silver goblets and ewer on the sideboard gleamed as though with obscured moonlight. The room itself seemed to sleep, waiting for the clock to strike the dining hour when it might wake for a brief moment of conviviality before falling again into another twenty-four hours of slumber. It was not what Nick would have chosen for his proposal, given the wide world to choose from, yet it would serve.