by Mary Balogh
“She’s pretty,” Lesley agreed. “I like her.”
“Then you must try for her too,” Frederick said, giving his brother’s shoulder an amiable pat. “That was Uncle’s will, after all. The five of us were to compete for her hand. She can award it—and Primrose Park—to whomever she chooses. I like it, Les. I like the odds. It won’t be nearly as interesting if there is only me. But Gussie will probably have a try and Malcolm will be talked into it. And Dan will probably try despite everything. He will probably think Primrose Park is his due even if he must take Jule with it. Yes, I like it very well. But you must be in it too.”
“Jule wouldn’t have me,” Les said. “I’m not as clever as Malcolm or as easy with the women as you or as handsome as Dan or as funny as Gussie. She wouldn’t have me, Freddie.”
“Don’t count on it,” his brother said. “She may choose sweetness and good humor, Les. You’ll give it a try?”
Lesley looked doubtful.
“Just imagine,” Frederick said. “If she marries Dan, she will as like as not be spirited away to one of his other properties and may never live again in the house she loves. If she marries Malcolm, she may live a dull life and never lure him outside his library. If she marries Gussie, she may find that after a few years he will be sorry for marrying so young and will want to sow his wild oats. If she marries me, she might lose Primrose Park altogether and she might have to share me with other women. What can you offer to save her from any of those four fates, Les?”
Lesley thought, his expression grave. “I would let her stay here,” he said, “and do what she wants. I would let her manage the estate herself if she wished. She could do a better job than I could, I daresay. She is cleverer. Or I would let her choose a good steward. I wouldn’t get in her way at all. I would just look after her.”
Frederick threw back his head and laughed. “It might work with her too, by Jove,” he said. “Good old Les. So you are going to do it. We are arch-rivals from this moment on. Will it come to pistols at dawn, do you suppose?”
“I could never hurt you, Freddie,” Lesley said gravely. “Or Dan or Malcolm or Gussie. Besides, Jule wouldn’t like it, you know.”
Frederick laughed again. “Not unless she was wielding one of the weapons,” he said. “I like the look of this summer more and more, Les. I must admit I was less than enamored at the prospect of having to put in an appearance here. And I might not have come at all if I had known we were to be here for a month. But after all it promises to be an entertaining few weeks. Most diverting.”
“I just hope Jule is happy at the end of it,” Lesley said, frowning again. “I like Jule.”
Stella caught up to her brother as he was trying to slip out of the drawing room without anyone noticing him. She linked her arm through his and smiled up at him. She said nothing as he led the way aimlessly along a corridor in the direction of the ballroom.
“The devil,” he said at last. “This is the very devil.”
“I thought you might be dismayed,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Are you running from Mama and Papa? But you know they won’t push you into anything you do not want Malcolm.”
“They don’t need to.” He grimaced. “Sometimes, Stella, there’s nothing worse than kind and understanding parents.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “They offered Jule a home before the will was read. I am sure the offer will remain open so that she will have an alternative to the choice Uncle has given her.”
“That makes it worse,” he said. “It just makes it worse, Stella. The burden on my shoulders will be intolerable. And you know that Mama and Papa have got me to agree since my thirtieth birthday that I will start thinking about marriage. They will expect me to go for this one. They’ll expect me to offer for Julia.”
“Would it be so bad?” she asked, gazing earnestly up at him. “She is one of my dearest friends, Malcolm.”
He grimaced. “And she has beauty and vitality and—oh, the devil, Stella. She has everything,” he said.
“Malcolm,” she said, “you are not ugly. And you have intelligence and learning and good sense. There is no foundation for your dreadful shyness. It is just that—shyness. There is nothing inferior about you. Jule would be fortunate indeed to have you for a husband.”
He frowned at her. “Did Mama and Papa send you?” he asked.
“No.” She punched his arm. “But I want you to be happy, Malcolm. I am very much afraid that your shyness will keep you single for the rest of your life. And I don’t think bachelorhood will suit you. You need a wife. And children.” She smiled impishly. “I need a sister-in-law. And nieces and nephews. Will you try? Will you at least try to talk with Jule? She will not bite your head off.”
He sighed.
“Think of the alternatives,” she said, “Daniel and Jule have never liked each other. Freddie is—well, Gussie says he is a rake, and I believe it for all his good looks and charm. Or perhaps because of them. Les is—well, Les is Les. And Gussie is too young. You are the perfect choice, Malcolm. You could have a wife within the month and would no longer have to worry yourself into a decline thinking about how you are going to find one.”
“I wish Uncle were still alive,” he said. “I would rather like to throttle him, Stella. Mama and Papa are going to start in on me as soon as they find me. They will use far less direct persuasion than you are using, but they will be ten times more persuasive for all that. And how am I going to refuse? If all of us refuse, poor Julia will be without a decent home at the end of the month. She doesn’t like her father’s relatives, does she?”
“They don’t want her,” Stella said. “Her father was the black sheep, I believe. You will marry her, then, Malcolm? If she will have you?”
“The devil,” he said. “I won’t have much choice by the time Mama and Papa have finished with me. Though I don’t think I’ll be able to do it, Stella. I just won’t.”
She laid her head briefly against his shoulder. “I love you, Malcolm,” she said. “I just love you.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “one could wish one did not have such a loving family. It would be so much easier just to please oneself.” He drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “What man in his right mind would have made a will like that one?”
* * *
“I think it quite outrageous,” Aunt Sarah said, seating herself on the pianoforte bench after leading her son away from the other groups still gathered in the drawing room. “That man—your poor dear papa’s brother, Daniel!— should not have been allowed to get away with such behavior.”
“There is nothing illegal about the will, Mama,” the Earl of Beaconswood said. “And Uncle was careful enough to leave something for everyone, even the least of the servants.”
“You know very well that I am thinking only of that one ridiculous clause,” she said. “It is criminal, Daniel. You must contest it. Primrose Park should have been left to you along with everything else. The properties should not be divided up. The aristocracy of England is only weakened when such a thing happens.”
“Primrose Park is unentailed, Mama,” he said. “It was Uncle’s personal possession, to be disposed of as he chose.”
“It is yours,” she said. “It is rightfully yours. But now you are going to have to marry Julia in order to get it. Not that I have anything against Julia, of course. But her father was not a frugal man and very little is known of her mother. And she herself has been known to be rather wild in her ways. Your uncle was altogether too indulgent with her. You are going to have to take her in hand, Daniel. I will help you, of course.”
“Mama,” he said, “I will not be marrying Julia.”
“Not—?” She looked at him sharply. “Your reluctance does you credit, Daniel. But to my knowledge there is nothing vicious about the girl. She merely needs taming. And I suppose it is only right that after being an adopted member of this family for so many years she finally become a member in reality. She is pretty enough when she dresses well.”<
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“One of the others will marry her, Mama,” he said. “She will be as much a member of the family married to one of them. She will not be married to me.”
“But Primrose Park—” she began.
“I don't need it,” he said. “I already have more property and wealth than one man needs in this life.”
“Daniel.” She was becoming annoyed. “You have promised me that you will choose a wife soon. It is time, especially now that your uncle is dead and you have both titles. You owe it to yourself and to your family to provide the earldom with an heir. It would not be wise to delay longer.”
“I will have a wife soon, Mama,” he said. “She will not be Julia.”
She looked up at him sharply. “You have met someone?” she asked. “In London, Daniel? And have not told me? Who is she?”
His look became guarded. “I have prospects,” he said. “Unfortunately the Season will be over by the time I can leave here. But no matter. You will have your daughter-in-law before another year has passed, Mama, and a grandchild a year after that in all probability. Possibly a grandson.”
She clasped her hands to her bosom. “I knew I could rely on you, Daniel,” she said. “You have always been a dutiful son. I need to be able to turn my attention to Camilla. She shows no sign of choosing someone to take Captain Styne’s place in her affections, God rest his soul. And she is twenty-four years old. Of course, now she is the sister of the Earl of Beaconswood and will appear that much more attractive to a prospective suitor despite her age.”
“Camilla does not need such lures,” he said. “She has both beauty and character, Mama.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “And no inclination to mend a broken heart. But 1 still believe you should marry Julia, Daniel. I would hate to see this property going to Frederick or Lesley. And Malcolm and Augustus are not even, strictly speaking, family since they are your late aunt's relatives.”
“Mama.” The earl looked down at his mother with the stern expression she had come to learn meant that further attempts at persuasion were useless. “I will not be courting Julia. Or offering for her. Or marrying her. I will never be the owner of Primrose Park.”
“Well.” She sighed. “Your uncle should not have been allowed to get away with it, Daniel. That is all I have to say.”
Augustus grinned rather nervously at his parents as they came toward him across the drawing room. He had not moved from his place since the solicitor had finished reading.
“Well, now,” his father said jovially, “what are you planning to do with five hundred pounds, Augustus? Eh?”
“I’ll think of something,” Augustus said. “Something useless, you may be assured, Papa. I would hate to waste such an unexpected windfall on something useful.”
“We would not expect you to,” his mother said, laughing. “Would we, Paul? That reading lasted a very long time. Were you dreadfully bored?” She sat down beside her son.
“Marvelously entertained actually, Mama,” he said. “How would you fancy your son being a staid landowner at the grand age of one and twenty? Do you think the image would fit?”
His mother laid a hand on his arm.
His father coughed. “We wanted to talk to you about that, Augustus,” he said. “You are one of the nephews, certainly, but you must not feel yourself obligated by that particular clause of the will.”
Augustus grinned again. “I thought it great fun,” he said. “I didn’t realize that Uncle was such a jolly good sport. Though I expect Jule to be hopping mad. She went flying out of here like shot from a gun when it was all over. I’m glad I was not in her path. I would surely have ended up with two black eyes before I could have got my fists up.”
“Augustus.” His mother covered one of his hands with hers. “It is not a game, dear. Whoever offers for Julia and marries her will be married to her for life.”
“I think it would be fun to be married to Jule,” Augustus said.
“Marriage is not fun,” she said. “At least, it is much more than that, Augustus. Sometimes it is frustrating and occasionally tedious. Forgive me, my love?” She glanced up at her husband, who was smiling ruefully at her. “Always it is hard work if it is to survive with any degree of tolerability.”
“Jule and I have always been the best of pals,” Augustus said.
“And friendship is important in marriage,” she said. “But it is not everything, Augustus. Oh, what we are trying to say—”
“What we are trying to say, son,” his father said, “is that you are too young to be thinking of matrimony.”
“But Jule isn’t?” Augustus raised his eyebrows.
“That is different altogether,” his father said. “Women are ready for marriage far sooner than men. It is because of the childbearing, you know.”
“And because women mature very much sooner than men,” his mother added.
“And that too,” his father agreed. “Don’t make a mistake you will regret, Augustus, my boy. Let someone else marry Julia. There will be other women for you to marry when you get older.”
Augustus had lost his grin. His expression had become rather mulish. “What is wrong with Jule?” he asked. “Is her birth not good enough for the Craybournes?”
“That was uncalled for, son,” his father said. “There is nothing at all wrong with Julia. We are fond of her, your mother and I, and always have been.”
“But not as a daughter-in-law,” Augustus said.
“We came here planning to offer her a home for as long as she needs one,” his mother said. “We really are fond of her, Augustus, and with Susan married and gone we would be quite happy to fill the empty space in our family. And Viola has always been excessively fond of her, as have you. We do not object to her as your wife, Augustus. But not yet. Not for at least three or four years yet. You have scarcely finished university. You have had no chance to experience something of life.”
“I know enough,” Augustus said. “And I am of age, Mama.”
“Yes.” His father sighed. “You are of age, my boy. And so we cannot command, you see, only advise. We advise you to wait, Augustus. We advise you very strongly.”
“Because we love you,” his mother said. “And because we are fond of Julia too. We would hate to see either one of you unhappy.”
“I could make Julia happy,” he said. “And she could make me happy.”
His parents exchanged helpless looks.
“Well,” his father said, “we will say no more, Augustus. Just promise us one thing, will you? Don't marry Julia just to spite us, just to show us that you are a man now. Do it if you must only because you truly believe it is the right thing for the both of you. Promise me?’
“Augustus?” His mother looked anxiously into his face.
“Parents!” Augustus said in exasperation, blowing air from puffed cheeks. “Do all parents believe their children are infants in perpetuity, I wonder? Credit me with some sense. All right, I promise. Besides, Julia may say no, you know. I’m quite sure she is boiling mad over this whole thing. 1 stole one look at her and I could tell.”
His mother smiled tentatively at his father. They wisely said no more.
Julia found a hiding place in the conservatory. It was her rainy day refuge, a room that was all glass on three sides and overlooked a rose arbor and a lawn beyond it that sloped downward toward the trees surrounding the lake. The lake was not visible from the house. This was no rainy day, of course, but she needed to be alone. She sat on one of the window seats and drew a curtain across in front of her. She drew up her knees, clasped her arms about them, and set her chin on them.
She tried to digest what she had just heard. And yet at the same time she did not want to think about it. He had let her down. Grandpapa had shown her that after all she was not one of his family. He had left her nothing. She was going to have to go to her uncle in the north of England. But perhaps she would try to get a position as a governess instead she thought, so that she would not have to rely on his charity, as she
had relied upon Grandpapa's all these years. It had been charity. She had no right to feel angry with him for leaving her nothing.
She did not feel angry, she told herself. Only hurt and very, very depressed. She would leave immediately, she had decided at first, when she was still in the drawing room, instead of waiting for a month. But her journey was to be paid for out of Grandpapa's estate. Probably Mr. Prudholm would not allow that payment to be made within the month. She could ask someone else to pay for the journey, of course. Uncle Henry would probably agree to do so, or Uncle Paul. Daniel probably would not—not that she would ask him anyway. But it would be charity again. It humiliated her to know that she did not have even enough money of her own to pay for a stagecoach journey to the north of England. She had never needed much money before. Grandpapa had paid all her bills, and she had never been extravagant.
That insane—competition, for want of a better word! Despite herself Julia started to feel angry. How could Grandpapa have humiliated her so?
How they must be gloating, the five of them. Here is Julia, desperate for a husband and a home. Who will be the highest bidder or the most convincing liar? She will be grateful for anyone. Anyone! Poor orphaned Julia. Poor Julia, one~and-twenty years old and unmarried. No one wants her. She has to be offered along with Primrose Park. The house and estate at least are attractive.
She was not angry, Julia thought. She was furious. If any of them tried to come near her with a gleam of triumph in his eye . . . If any of them laughed at her . . . If any of them affected to have fallen madly in love with her . . . Well, let any of them try and see what they got, she thought. She had not lost the ability to deal out bloody noses and stinging ears merely because she was one-and-twenty and supposedly a lady. Sometimes a lady had to defend herself.
If they wanted her to act like a lady, then they could jolly well treat her like one. They could leave her alone. Strictly alone for one whole month. She hated them all anyway. Freddie had had a smirk on his face while the solicitor had been reading. Daniel had been looking supercilious. Even Lesley had smiled when there was no occasion to smile. She had not seen Malcolm or Gussie, but she would wager that Gussie thought it all a huge joke.