“I would rather stand,” I replied.
Carefully, he examined me from head to foot. “Miss Wade, I wish to, discuss with you the event that has occurred and certain steps I have taken. I cannot do so if you remain standing.”
I sat. Such was the force of his voice. He continued to regard me warily. “Are you well?” he asked. “Have you any complaints about your treatment while I was away?”
“As well as I can be in the circumstances,” I said coldly. “The only complaint I have is that I have been kept a prisoner here.”
He smiled. “So you would have run away? To where? To whom?”
Stung, I retorted, “I might at least have had the choice!”
The smile left his face. “I am afraid you could not. I wronged you, this I freely admit. And now I’ve a responsibility for you. Had I allowed you to run away, you might have been in worse trouble. Incidentally, I have spoken to Mr. Thornsby. Such an incident will not occur again through his agency.”
“Marvelous!” I muttered.
“What did you say?” Sir Leslie asked.
“Nothing,” I replied sullenly. “Please continue. You were explaining that you feel a responsibility for me.”
Angrily he retorted, “I have expended a great deal of effort on your behalf this week, Miss Wade. And I have arrived at the only possible solution. But before I tell it to you, you might consider the fact that this is not entirely my fault. Had you bothered to demand a clear explanation of the duties of the post you were to occupy, all this might have been avoided!”
“And if you were not so debauched as to have women sent up for your private amusement—”
“Enough!” Sir Leslie’s voice cut through mine as sharply as a sword. Then, with an obvious effort to control himself, he continued, “I have brought a trunk of clothes for you from Mademoiselle Suzette. She is sending others. I have also arranged for a personal maid for you. She will arrive later today.”
As he paused for breath I spoke quickly, “That was very kind of you, but not necessary as I shall be leaving the castle as soon as I have packed my things.”
Sir Leslie stared at me with a curiously bleak expression. “I am afraid not, Miss Wade. In about an hour, you will be married to me.”
I stared at him incredulously. “But you—there’s been no time to post the banns.”
“I procured a special license in London.”
Angrily I jumped to my feet. “Well, it don’t signify, for I shan’t marry you!”
Now he stood, over a head taller than me. “You will, for you have no choice.”
“But why? You can’t possibly wish to marry me!” I protested.
“I’ve no choice either. You have no one to look after you. You cannot find another position: no one would hire you knowing you’ve been here. And even could you conceal that fact, it would be impossible for you to find a respectable position without references. But none of these matter so much as the fact that I am not in the habit of ravishing young women. And above all, not respectable young women. I’ve no choice. I must marry you.”
“Ah, but I’m not respectable,” I said eagerly. “I am ... my parents were not married. So you see, you need not marry me.”
Sir Leslie spoke slowly and deliberately. “I have spoken with Mrs. Gilwen and I am fully aware of all particulars of your background. I also have your ... guardian’s permission to marry you. I intend to do so, and I usually have my way.”
For a moment I was too stunned to speak. But there was too much at stake and I could not let matters rest so. I managed to choke out, “You cannot imagine, surely, that I would ever accept you as my husband! Or—or welcome you to my bed! I’ll run away first. I think I would even kill myself first!”
I was breathing heavily and feeling on the verge of hysteria. Sir Leslie replied contemptuously, “Spare me the Cheltenham tragedies, Miss Wade! I am marrying you to give you my name and protect your reputation. That is all I intend. I might have wished for heirs, but that is irrelevant now. I do not intend to force my attentions on you. We will, of course, have separate rooms. If you wish, your maid may even sleep in your room as an added protection. Though that would no doubt give rise to gossip. You will have an ample allowance, and if it should prove insufficient I will increase it. Should you take a fancy to some man, I will not interfere provided you conduct the affair discreetly. I have already taken steps to ensure that none of the servants gossip outside this castle and I think we shall be all right. Is that clear?”
I stared at him. “Perfectly clear. A marriage in appearance only. You must have windmills in your head! I refuse. Of what benefit is it to save my reputation if I am riveted to you?”
He flushed. “You will have every freedom except marriage to someone else. And after ... after ... you are not marriageable anyway. You will have security and be well placed in the ton. I will not inflict myself on you more than is absolutely necessary. After a year or two, we may contrive to rarely find ourselves in the same place together. I have a house in London that will be at your disposal.”
“I see. That’s all very well but what are you going to do the next time this happens? You won’t be able to marry the poor girl.”
“Damn you, shut up!” he shouted. I backed away as he came toward me. “There will not be a next time. If I have any affairs, they will be discreetly conducted with women whom I choose personally and who are quite willing. I assure you that not everyone finds me abhorrent.”
“Not everyone knows you as well as I do,” I said sweetly.
He stood still. “You don’t know me at all. No, don’t say it. You—”
I do not know what he was about to add, for at that moment someone knocked. “Yes, who is it?” Sir Leslie called, without taking his eyes from my face.
“The vicar, Sir Leslie,” Mrs. Morgan called.
“Show him in,” Sir Leslie replied.
As the doors opened I ran to Mrs. Morgan. “Will you explain to Sir Leslie that I cannot marry him?” I said.
“Now child,” she said soothingly, “ye must marry him. ’Tis a good marriage. Why, else ye could not marry at all, and less marry as well.”
I was stunned by her defection. The vicar was already standing by the desk and now Mrs. Morgan and another servant (Sir Leslie’s valet, I later learned) shepherded me to Sir Leslie’s side. The vicar regarded me kindly as he began the marriage service. I held quiet until it came to be time for my response. “I will not,” I said calmly and clearly.
I felt Sir Leslie about to speak, but the vicar forestalled him. “Child,” he said gently, “is it true that you’re not a virgin; that Sir Leslie ravished you?”
I nodded. He gave me a pitying smile. “The bride assents,” he said and continued with the service.
Shocked, I could not protest. I did not hear the rest of the words of the service and scarcely felt the ring being placed on my finger. Then I was signing something. It did not matter. There was nothing I could do. I should never be free. Then I was alone in the library with the vicar. “My dear Heather,” he said, “You must accept this marriage. You are very, very lucky. Sir Leslie is an honourable man. I know you have had a shock and this is not the best way to begin a marriage. But others have started worse and been happy. Accept Sir Leslie and your marriage. In time, too, children will help to ease matters. In the joys of motherhood you will find—”
“Motherhood? Children?” I repeated. Then angrily, I said, “No! No children. Sir Leslie promised. I won’t! I won’t!”
“Calm yourself, child,” he said hastily. “Of course there is no need to consider such things now. But in time—”
“Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Go away? But—”
“Please?” I said. “Please? I need to be alone.”
Worried, he rang for a servant. Sir Leslie appeared at the doorway. I heard him say, “Take her to her room.”
A hand guided my elbow as, dazed, I returned to my chamber. Inside, I threw myself on the bed and wept. Of al
l the fantasies I had ever had of my marriage, none approached the actual event. I had always assumed I would marry for love or at the very least, a man for whom I felt the proper regard. But this! I was truly trapped now. Sir Leslie was young and I could not even hope my marriage would be ended by his early death. I felt that fate had been unfair to me. I could only console myself that my tormentor, Sir Leslie, was no happier than I.
I had ceased to cry and lay face upward on the bed when someone knocked. “Go away!” I called.
“Ma’am, it’s your new abigail,” Margaret’s voice replied.
“I don’t wish an abigail!” I retorted.
The voice that spoke next surprised me. “It’s Ellen, Miss Wade. I mean, Lady Kinwell.”
I jumped to my feet and hurried to unbolt the door. Mademoiselle Suzette had promised to aid me, and Ellen I looked upon as a friend. As I opened the door I noticed Margaret regarding me strangely. No doubt she believed me slightly mad. Well, perhaps I was. But could anyone wonder at this?
I shut and bolted the door behind Ellen, “How? Why?” I asked. “Sit down.”
“Well,” Ellen began dramatically, “Sir Leslie came into Mademoiselle’s establishment and demanded to speak with her at once. She said to deny her, but he went from one fitting room to another until he found her. Then, well! They went to her office and you could hear his voice all over the place, cutting up stiff over something. Then Mademoiselle called me into her office. Sir Leslie was that angry! I thought he would shout at me. But he was very polite. ‘Did you speak with Miss Wade when she was fitted here?’ he asked.
“Well! I confess I had forgotten your name. ‘The companion for Sir Leslie,’ Mademoiselle said.
“Well, then of course I knew who he meant. ‘Well, sir,’ I replied, ‘a little, though of course I know well enough not to tattle.’
“He glanced at Mademoiselle, but spoke to me. ‘Did Miss Wade speak about her position? Did she seem eager to begin her work?’
“ ‘I wouldn’t know, sir,’ I said, ‘I didn’t wish to gossip. Only ...’
“ ‘Only what?’ he cried angrily.
“ ‘Well, sir, she seemed desperate for any position and fainted once because she had not eaten since the night before. And she had almost no possessions and slept with the seamstresses that night. But she was well bred, sir, one could see that.”
“Well! My answer only made him angrier. Mademoiselle dismissed me after warning me to keep my tongue between my teeth. Then Sir Leslie left. Well, of course I wondered what had happened. I tried to ask Mademoiselle, but she said to be quiet, to forget you. Well! Imagine my surprise when Sir Leslie came back to see Mademoiselle yesterday and asked to speak with me again. ‘Ellen,’ he said, ‘do you know how to dress hair?’
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.
“ ‘How would you like to be my wife’s abigail?’ he asked me. ‘You would be well paid and you already know her. Miss Wade is to marry me tomorrow.’
“Well! I was that surprised! Me, an abigail? Of course I accepted. And you, Lady Kinwell! So then he said I would have to leave at once. As soon as I said I could, he turned to Mademoiselle and said, ‘I shall take with me the clothes you have ready. The rest you will send as soon as possible.’ “Well! Mademoiselle had said there was a rush order, but I never guessed it was for you. Then he left and she gave me a message for you. She said she believes all will be well now, but to tell you that if you are dreadfully unhappy, to go and talk with her when Sir Leslie brings you to London. It was her notion Sir Leslie should take me as your abigail. Said you’d like someone your own age. And warned me to help you. Well of course I will! But tell me. Are you truly Lady Kinwell? How did it happen?”
I did not answer for a moment, for I needed time to absorb all that Ellen had told me. And I needed time to determine how to answer her. I was not eager to speak of the shameful thing that had happened. At last I compromised between truth and untruth... “Yes, Ellen, I am truly Sir Leslie’s wife. We were married this afternoon. I ... he felt he had compromised me and he insisted upon our marriage. He went to London to procure a special license.”
“Lor’!” she cooed. “And have you a tendre for him? Is it monstrous exciting to be Lady Kinwell?”
Distaste swept over me. Yet what had happened could not be undone and I must not gossip with the servants else my position would be even more unbearable. “There are no words to tell what I feel,” I answered truthfully. “I am tired, Ellen. Will you please ring for tea?”
She nodded. “Of course, my lady.” Then she hesitated, “You will not be taking tea with Sir Leslie?”
I closed my eyes. Of course it must all begin sometime. But I was not yet ready to face him. “No, Ellen. There are ... certain matters he must see to this afternoon.”
“Very well, my lady.” She nodded and rang for Margaret.
I stared out the window as she gave the necessary orders. The whole world seemed mad. I was leg-shackled to a man I hated and forced to pretend I did not. I was not so goosish as to believe I could do other than pretend our marriage was a normal one. Any other behaviour could only damage my reputation. If this farce could be successfully acted, then in time I might expect more freedom. And acceptance in the ton. I knew that I was not the only young woman to be forced into an unwelcome marriage. Yet this did not lessen my resentment or hatred for Sir Leslie. Publicly I might be a dutiful wife, but in private he should know precisely how I felt. And each night I would be sure the door between our chambers was firmly bolted! Ellen interrupted my thoughts. “My lady, the tea is here. Shall I put away the clothes from Mademoiselle?”
“Yes, Ellen,” I replied, moving to the table. “And lay out a dress for this evening.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She was thus occupied when Mrs. Morgan entered my chamber. “My lady,” she began tentatively, “Sir Leslie asks I if a late dinner hour will disturb ye?”
I forced myself to reply calmly, “That will be perfectly acceptable, Mrs. Morgan. Please have hot water for a bath sent up an hour and a half beforehand. Oh, and Mrs. Morgan, perhaps it would be best if you show me about the castle again tomorrow. I must begin to familiarise myself with my new responsibilities, such as the management of the household.”
“Yes, my lady,” she said coldly. “I am glad to see ye are not still unreconciled!”
As she left I sighed. No doubt she thought me encroaching. Yet, for all my background, I was now Lady Kinwell. If I was to play the role, I must do so fully. Though she would not like it, Mrs. Morgan must learn to treat me as befitted my new station. I smiled. I suspected Sir Leslie would be surprised to learn I intended to join him for dinner. Well, let him be surprised. I was no Bath miss to spend the rest of my life hiding in my chamber.
I dressed with care that evening, in the gauze gown with a shawl about my shoulders, and Ellen dressed my hair in a style that made me appear older than my years. My reflection in the mirror gave me confidence, and with a deep breath, I descended to the drawing room. Sir Leslie’s back was to the doorway. He stood alone, holding a glass of some amber fluid. His head was bent and I realised he was weary and tense. Was he as afraid of this meeting as I? Boldly, I stepped into the room. “Good evening, Leslie.”
He turned quickly. “Good evening ... Heather,” he managed.
I stood quite still as his eyes swept over me, coming to rest on my face. He stared into my eyes and, instinctively, drew himself taller. “Would you like some sherry?” he asked I coolly. When I shook my head, he sipped from his glass. “Mr. Watly, the vicar, has kindly consented to join us for dinner. He was quite worried about you.”
“That I was,” said a voice behind me. “My dear, how are you?”
I turned and extended my hand to the vicar. Suppressing the distaste I felt for him, I said lightly, “How kind of you. But surely, sir, you are aware that most brides are somewhat hysterical on their wedding day?”
“My dear Heather,” he said, pressing my hand, “I cannot tell you how deli
ghted I am that you have taken such a mature attitude. I realise this was all very sudden and did not commence auspiciously; however, I am sure all will be well.”
I merely smiled and gently withdrew my hand. Sir Leslie moved to stand beside me and I noted with a malicious pleasure the tremour in his voice as he asked, “Would you care for some sherry, sir?”
“No, no, my boy. I take a little wine with dinner, but my doctor forbids alcohol in any other form. Though I regret it, you may be sure.”
“Then may I suggest we go into dinner?” my husband said.
Before Sir Leslie could offer me his arm, I took Mr. Watly’s and gently prodded him toward the dining hall. He seemed surprised but flattered, and I counted him a tactless fool who had no understanding of people. At the head of the long table, Sir Leslie was seated with me on his left and the vicar on his right. “I am always happy to eat with Sir Leslie,” Watly confided to me, “as he always sets an excellent table.”
I smiled sweetly. “Yes, Sir Leslie never stints on his worldly pleasures.”
Sir Leslie glared, but Watly smiled indulgently. “Yes, my dear, your husband is quite open-handed. And now that he is safely married, I am sure his... er ... indiscretions will cease.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, “Leslie has assured me he will be most discreet in the future.”
Watly stared at me uncertainly and did not reply. I might have said more, but the warning in Sir Leslie’s eyes was clear. And for my own sake, I had to choose my words with care. I lapsed into silence as the first course was served. With the second, I determined to end the uneasy quiet. “Tell me, sir,” I said, “is yours a large parish?”
Watly waved a hand airily. “Oh, no larger than I would want, and not, by far, the smallest in England. Well, but you shall see for yourself this Sunday. You will be there, in the family pew, will you not?”
I was about to reply negatively when Sir Leslie forestalled me. “Of course we shall. Perhaps you might then give a special blessing over our marriage,” he said smoothly.
“Oh, quite. Quite,” Watly replied. “An excellent notion. You will hold the customary reception?”
An Improper Companion Page 4