“What do you think, Papa?”
“I hardly know what to make of it, my dear. A very disagreeable development. Mr. Pierce a gamester and a fortune hunter after all? Well, well. This is a hard blow, principally because of how it concerns you, of course.”
He paused in thought before continuing. “The assertion that his father was behind the whole scheme, I can easily believe. That does not excuse his conduct entirely, however. Still, I would not condemn him out of hand. Seeking to improve one’s financial circumstances by marriage – although particularly offensive to your sensibilities, Jo – is a commonly accepted practice. It might be forgiven him. And the gambling is likely at an end now he is away from his college. Removed from that environment, productively employed at Wildewood under his father’s watchful eye, and with a prudent wife to settle him, I think it most likely Richard will yet turn out a fine gentleman. I must admit I have a partiality for him despite all this. Let us not forget, he has much to offer you in the way of a highly eligible situation.
“In short, if you are prepared to overlook this inauspicious beginning and be happy with him, I have no objection to your marrying Mr. Pierce as planned. You may have some rough patches ahead – all young couples do – but the alternative could be fraught with even more difficulty. Society can be very cruel in such cases. Should you break off your engagement, there may be major repercussions to your reputation… even legal ramifications. I daresay Mr. Randolph Pierce will have to be reckoned with; he is not a man to be gainsaid.”
As if to emphasize this last point, a message addressed to my father arrived from the senior Mr. Pierce later that day.
Dear Sir,
In recent weeks, I have reflected on the upcoming alliance between our two families with great satisfaction. Imagine my distress, then, when I learnt from my son that your daughter has implied an inclination to end the arrangement over some trifling disagreement. Perhaps, as I hope, Richard has misunderstood her intentions entirely. Surely Miss Walker is too principled to break her word on this minor provocation. If, however, she is indeed showing signs of inconstancy, let me urge you, as her father, to use your influence to prevent her making such a grave error. A breach of her promise would result in serious consequences. Much as I esteem your family, I will not on any account see my son and our respected name insulted with impunity. As a sensible man, you understand me and would act the same in my place, I am sure. With best wishes for the proper outcome,
Randolph Pierce
“So you see, Jo,” Papa explained, “herein lies a thinly veiled threat of legal action against you, should you renege on your commitment to marry Mr. Pierce. He will be disappointed in his reasonable expectation of taking control of your fortune. As the injured party, he would be well within his rights to attempt to recover some of his losses.”
“Richard, not I, the injured party here?”
“In the eyes of the law, yes; I fear it may be so.”
“Outrageous! But surely he would not go so far as to file an action against me. His questionable behavior notwithstanding, I cannot believe Richard would stoop to such vindictiveness.”
“Nor can I think so ill of him. However, as you yourself have acknowledged, he is held hostage to his father’s will. I would not put it past Mr. Randolph Pierce to carry out such a plan. I believe we must regard it as a genuine danger. Weigh carefully your course of action, therefore, my dear. I will help you where I can but, since you are of age now, the final decision must be yours.”
“So, after having been tricked into an engagement by one man, I am now to be blackmailed into going through with the marriage by another. Is that what you are telling me? It is too much to be borne!” I was far more angry than hurt by the thought. Still, I could feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes.
“Things are not quite as bleak as that,” Papa continued. “Although we must take the threat of legal action seriously, we are not entirely without recourse if it comes down to it.”
With this latest complication, my spirits sank still further. The prospect of my private affairs being dragged into court heaped one more layer of wretchedness upon me. How was it possible to make a dispassionate decision under such duress? Parting with my first love would have been painful enough. Now it appeared that the choice to leave Richard could cost me my good name and a substantial part of my fortune as well. Although I cared nothing for the money itself, it did afford me the precious luxury of independence. Without it, I would be back where I started – obliged to marry in order to support myself, only with fewer prospects than before. Even Mr. Summeride might not take me once I was known as a jilt. That would be a new low indeed.
These and similar gloomy contemplations fully occupied me until dinner. Over the meal, my parents had the consideration to talk of trivialities, to which I was neither obliged to contribute nor attend. None of us made any reference to the question uppermost in our thoughts. My father, having already spoken his mind, seemed content to let the issue rest. My mother, I suspected, was far less easy about it. Although she kept her conversation cheerful, I noticed the deepened furrows of her brow whenever she looked in my direction.
Real maternal solicitude had been awakened, and I was not left long in suspense of Mama’s sentiments. When I excused myself to return to my room, she soon followed.
“Would you like to talk, my dear?” she asked upon entering.
Her invitation served as sufficient encouragement, calling forth from me a new flood of emotion. “Oh, Mama,” I cried, “this whole affair with Richard… It’s like a nightmare; the very thing I was so determined to avoid has overtaken me nonetheless.”
She sat down beside me and pulled me close. “Not quite. You are not yet irrevocably bound to a man who does not care for you, if indeed that is what Richard be. You still have a choice. Perhaps these events may even prove a blessing in disguise. In fact…” She trailed off.
I looked at her expectantly. There was an absent expression on her face, as if her gaze reached beyond the walls of my room and her thoughts to another time or place. “Mama?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, my pet. I was just thinking…”
“About what?”
“Well… I was remembering, really… a girl I knew a long time ago.” Another pause. “She found herself in… a somewhat similar predicament. Perhaps hearing about her would be of use to you, in coming to terms with your own situation, I mean.”
“Does the tale have a happy ending?” I asked dubiously. “I do not think I can bear a tragedy just now.”
“Oh, yes. She ended very happy indeed. Let me see. Where shall I begin? Well, there was this young lady, a close friend of mine…”
“What is her name?”
“Oh, uh… Maria. We shall just call her Maria.”
I rested against my mother, ready for her to soothe my pain with a story, as if I were a child again.
“Now, Maria was a fine girl of nineteen from a good family. Not so very accomplished, perhaps, but quite admired all the same. Several of the local young men took an interest in her. One night at a dance, though, Maria was introduced to a certain gentleman, several years her senior, who was visiting from another part of the county. His name was Mr. Goring, the son of a prosperous London attorney. Well, she fell for him at once. He was handsome, charming, articulate and lively: everything pleasing that her mind could conceive and her heart desire. From that moment on, no other man had a chance with her. Mr. Goring could do no wrong, and no one else could hold a candle to his perfections.
“The couple soon fancied themselves in love but, for various reasons, Maria’s father flatly refused his consent to their marrying. No amount of pleading could make him reconsider. His decision was final and for her own good, he said. My friend was beside herself with vexation of mind and spirit. So, believing it the only way they could be together, Maria consented to Mr. Goring’s daring plan of eloping to Scotland.”
“Oh, my! To leave everything and run off like that? There is an element o
f romance in it, to be sure. Still…”
“Yes, looking back, I can scarce believe it myself… that a well-brought-up girl like Maria could have done such a thing. But she was determined to have the man, and despaired of any other means to accomplish it. I suppose she thought that once the deed was done, her family would have no choice but to accept the match.”
“So, what happened? Did they make it to Scotland and marry?”
“Nowhere near. When Mr. Goring came for Maria in the middle of the night, one of the servants heard the noise and alerted his master. The couple had not got more than five miles off before her father overtook them. He sent the young man packing, and carried his daughter safely home again. You can imagine Maria’s mortification. She declared her heart was broken forever; she swore she could never love another man; and she refused to speak to her father for weeks. The affair was hushed up as well as possible, but rumors got round nonetheless. There is no preventing the spread of gossip in a small town,” Mama lamented.
“But you said the story ended well,” I reminded her.
“Yes. I was just coming to that,” she continued more brightly. “Time and reflection ultimately did their work; Maria became reconciled to her disappointment. And resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. In hindsight, she perceived the serious defects of Mr. Goring’s character and the impropriety of his actions, to which she had been blind before. She even came to wonder if Mr. Goring had meant to marry her at all, after spiriting her away.”
“Dear me. So her father had been right about the man after all. I am sure your friend was better off for her narrow escape, but that hardly qualifies as ending ‘very happy.’”
“I’m not finished yet. Because of her fortunate escape, Maria had a second chance, the opportunity to make a superior choice for herself. Although Maria’s society was far less eagerly sought than before, one gentleman was not put off by the business. Mr.… March – yes, that was his name – a man of a more noble character, showed himself the truest friend in standing by Maria through her troubles. By and by, she grew to love Mr. March with a tenderness – and a passion, I would venture to say – far deeper and more sincere than she had ever felt for Mr. Goring. The two ultimately married and are still happily so to this day… so I understand.”
“Ah, now I am satisfied,” said I. Then my own troubles rushed back. “But how can this story possibly help me? The situations are not alike.”
“Not precisely, no. The obstacles are undeniably different, and I would not presume to say that your Richard is another Mr. Goring. You must be the judge of that. I only suggest that, as you deliberate on what to do about your current dilemma, you keep in mind the lessons learnt by my friend Maria.
“Your eyes have been opened now, Jo. Painful as it has been, you can turn it to your advantage. Use the opportunity to assess Mr. Pierce’s character honestly. Compare his virtues and faults to those of the noblest and best men you know. If you can respect Richard as well, then marry him, by all means. If not, do not attempt it. Nothing will destroy your love more quickly than discovering that you cannot truly esteem your husband. I would have you choose deep disappointment and temporary disgrace rather than forfeit all hope of finding a truly worthy partner to share your future.”
21
Deliberations
Toward deciding what to do about my endangered engagement, I had now achieved my first objective, that being to gather all potentially useful information and advice. Richard had given his explanations at my request, and his father his views without invitation. My parents had both had their say. One opinion only remained to be heard, and that was mine, which lingered undisclosed of necessity as I did not yet know it myself. Thus began my earnest deliberations.
I set out to review every fact concerning Richard with a ruthlessly rational eye. No simple task; the heart does not easily relinquish its claims. At every turn, I recalled a treasured moment or a tender word that threatened to divert my objectivity toward a caving-in to emotion. Yet I carried on. Through it all, my unspoken wish was that Richard would somehow emerge exonerated, thereby sparing me any necessity of parting with him. However, as the evidence weighed in, my hopes for that cherished result waned.
At the outset of our acquaintance, his appearance and prodigious social powers had granted him every advantage and lulled to sleep any cause for misgiving. How different did all Richard’s words and deeds look when viewed in the light of recent revelations. His flirtatious manner and flattering style – which before seemed so innocuous, even endearing – now bespoke deliberate design rather than a playful nature. I had been aware of these excesses at the time, but had been happy to attribute his exuberance to his unbridled love for me. What absurd conceit that now seemed!
It had all been an act, at least in the beginning, with securing my fortune his goal. He had as good as admitted that much, and laid the blame for it at his father’s feet. Still, had Richard strongly objected to the role, I question if he could have been so convincing in it. Even the best actor requires proper motivation, and it was hard to imagine him playing his part with more spirit than he had done. It followed that he was either a willing participant or highly proficient in the art of deception. No comfort could be found in either explanation.
If, however, as Richard claimed, he had come to love me in spite of his disingenuous intentions, I might have successfully conquered my scruples over his early treatment of me. The duplicity of his behavior toward others I found more difficult to overcome. He claimed Miss Fennimore was nothing to him, yet their familiarity belied it. One day he vehemently defended her honor, and the next he freely disparaged her worth. I could not help but wonder if he would treat his wife with the same inconstancy.
Still, the most damning of all was the recollection of Richard’s conduct toward Mr. and Mrs. Graham – all respectful civility in their presence and yet laughing at them behind their backs, ridiculing them whilst at the same time enjoying their kind hospitality. I could not imagine my father, Arthur, or even Tom, with his irreverent sense of humor, doing such a thing. Not only had Richard slighted these good people, he had encouraged me – a total stranger at the time – to join him in doing so. I was ashamed to remember how mildly I had reacted to such obvious impropriety – more proof of Mr. Pierce’s unhealthy influence over me.
With this solid character indictment before me, my choice should have been clear. How could I even contemplate trusting my future to a man who had shown himself so inclined to falsehood? Yet, when I considered never again knowing the bliss of Richard’s arms about me, the delicious thrill of his kiss, his resonant voice in my ear, his look that seemed to penetrate to my very soul…
“Stop it, Josephine!” I commanded myself under my breath. “It can never be. It never was! That man does not truly exist; he is a product of disguise and imagination. You only prolong your pain by continuing to indulge the fantasy. Enough!” Before I could waver in my resolve, I quit the cloister of my room to inform my parents that I had decided to put an end to my engagement.
~~*~~
Mama accepted my verdict with grace and sympathy. My father was less sanguine. Nevertheless, he made it his first order of business to seek, on my behalf, the advice of Mr. Benson, the man who had represented us in drawing up the marriage agreement.
Under the circumstances, I certainly had no wish to see Richard again, much less his father. Another face-to-face meeting was more than I could countenance in my precarious state. Yet Richard had to be told something before we left Bath. A judiciously worded note; I hoped that would serve. Fortunately, the solicitor agreed that my taking that approach would be for the best.
“He said to make it brief and non-committal,” Papa reported when he returned from the consultation. “Say not that you are breaking the engagement, only that you need to get away and think.”
“Why? Does he suppose I will change my mind? I have made my choice and I want to have don
e with it as soon as possible.”
“As it was explained to me, it is primarily to give us the advantage of time. There is no reason to tip our hand before it is necessary. In the interim, to prepare for the possibility of legal action, Mr. Benson advises that we take counsel with a colleague of his in London. He also said you must be careful to set nothing down on paper which you would be embarrassed to have read out in court someday, should it come to that.”
With that sobering thought in mind, I wrote and rewrote the note several times until I was satisfied.
To Mr. Richard Pierce
Dear Sir,
Although I was entirely sincere when I consented to be your wife three weeks ago, circumstances are somewhat altered now. The deception you and your father perpetrated upon me from the outset of our acquaintance has seriously compromised the chance of a successful union between us. Therefore, I shall withdraw to give the question the prudent consideration such a weighty matter demands. Please honor my desire for privacy during this time, and refrain from attempting to contact me in any way. I will advise you of my intentions in due course.
Respectfully,
Josephine Walker
“That should do the job very neatly, I think,” said my father upon reading it. “Although, before we send it on its way, I want Mr. Benson’s approval as well.” And he went out again.
Since the crisis began, I had quite deliberately thrown all my emotional and intellectual energy into solving my dilemma. By giving me a useful purpose, the undertaking had provided some protection against the desperation that I sensed every moment crouching at my door. With my decision made, and that safeguard thus removed, I believe nothing but my mother’s intervention kept me from taking to my bed for a protracted wallow in grief and self-pity. She wisely headed off such a relapse by supplying me with a fresh occupation, enlisting my help in packing up the house toward the goal of starting for home early the next day.
For Myself Alone: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel Page 13