MAKING A COME-OUT
By seventeen, and sometimes earlier, a girl was able to begin spreading her social wings and might attend certain sorts of smaller parties, family dinners and minor assemblies in places such as the resort towns of Bath or Harrogate. She was precluded from attending London assemblies or any sizeable occasion until she had made her debut, and grand social events hosted by royalty, such as the Prince Regent’s magnificent fête at Carlton House, were out of the question unless she had been formally presented at Court. In spite of her experiences as a society hostess while living overseas with her diplomat father, Sophy Stanton-Lacy in The Grand Sophy was ineligible to attend this grand affair because she had not yet been presented at one of the Queen’s Drawing-Rooms. This centuries-old tradition was available to daughters of the aristocracy and to those who had married into the upper class, and a young woman was not considered to be fully ‘out’ in society until she had been presented. A strict protocol was enforced prior to presentation, requiring the lady’s name to be put forward and approved before a date for presentation could be set. A woman attended a drawing-room in full Court dress in the form of a grande toilette consisting of a magnificently embroidered or ornamented silk, satin or lace dress over a hooped skirt, her finest jewels, and a headdress with as many as eight ostrich feathers. In Cotillion, Meg, Lady Buckhaven, bought a magnificent satin dress with a lace overskirt to wear to Court but had to persuade her loving husband to pay the £300 bill for it sent by the dressmaker.
A Court presentation was a magnificent occasion with the ladies
wearing their finest gowns and most beautiful jewels,
and the gentlemen resplendent in full Court dress.
Presentations took place at St James’s Palace and a debutante was always escorted by her mother or other female sponsor—often a member of the aristocracy whose connections or influence at Court might see her protégée favoured by royal attention for slightly longer than the minute or so it took to be introduced and to make her curtsy to the Queen. The haughty but elegant Lady Nassington of A Civil Contract kindly chaperoned Jenny Chawleigh to her presentation and enabled Jenny to feel more confident about meeting the Queen and the Princesses. Most girls came out into society by eighteen and hoped to be married within their first Season, or at least receive an offer as Letty proudly told her cousin John she had done in The Toll-Gate.
MOTHERS, WIVES, WIDOWS AND DAUGHTERS
From the moment of birth, an upper-class Regency child would be shared to varying degrees between parents and servants. Although a mother might choose to breast-feed her baby, as Jenny Chawleigh did in A Civil Contract, it was not uncommon for well-born ladies to engage a wet-nurse to attend the infant. Some mothers were more actively involved in their children’s upbringing, taking an interest in their lessons and helping to nurse them in times of illness, but their greatest involvement in their children’s lives was when they entered society. An upper-class mother’s first duty was as a marriage-broker; she was responsible for finding eligible partners for her offspring and for a mother of several daughters (such as Lady Bugle in Charity Girl) this could become the main focus of her life.
A good upper-class mother would ensure that her daughter had at least one London Season with a presentation at Court, and that she was exquisitely gowned and thoroughly schooled in the ways of the world. Once in London it was imperative to be seen in all the right places and hopeful mothers would make visits of ceremony and leave calling cards at the homes of influential women in the hope of reciprocal visits or an invitation to their next ball or party. Lady Bridlington in Arabella considered how best to bring her protégée to the notice of the most powerful and well-disposed ladies of the ton, and spent a great deal of time planning her ball and thinking of who to invite in order to ensure that Arabella had the opportunity to meet the cream of London society. If possible, vouchers for Almack’s were obtained and a mother would escort her daughter to evenings in the hallowed rooms as well as to every other acceptable social event to which they had been invited. It was not unknown for ambitious mothers to plot ways in which their daughters could attract the attention of an eligible bachelor, or to devise a lavish ball or daring alfresco breakfast in order to entice the London elite into their homes and bring their daughters into direct contact with the ton’s most attractive men. Lady Laleham in Bath Tangle was a well-known social climber who contrived to visit the Spenborough home when she knew the rich and eligible Marquis of Rotherham was also visiting.
In the early nineteenth century marriage meant that in a legal as well as a practical sense a woman, and any money or assets she might own, including jewels, personal possessions, household items and clothing, came under her husband’s control the moment the knot was tied. Even betrothal meant she had to have her fiancé’s permission to dispose of her own property. In the case of Tiffany Wield, the spendthrift heiress of The Nonesuch, this was held to be a good thing but for many women the loss of autonomy was unpalatable. As a wife she was viewed by the law as being one with her husband, and consequently she lost her legal status as a separate individual and with it the considerable legal rights available to her as a single woman. Her real property, including land, houses, livestock, chattels and church livings could become his if he claimed them but by the time of the Regency it had become increasingly common in upper-class circles for these holdings and any income derived from them to be placed in a separate trust for a wife’s use and benefit. If a husband predeceased his wife her property reverted to her and if she died childless it would revert to her heirs. If her husband was alive and she died leaving children, he held her property until his death when it passed to her heirs. Any children born during a marriage (whether his or not) were legally his and in the event of a divorce or separation a husband could take the children, his wife’s money and personal property (unless it had been set apart legally) and refuse her access to them.
The only offset to the injustices meted out to wives under Common Law was the provision of another type of law known as Equity. For those who could afford to implement its benefits, the court of Equity could enforce trusts and legal arrangements (often included in the marriage settlement) made to safeguard women’s property; it could also secure property left to her for her own use and it could enable her to sue where she had a right to do so—a right she was denied as a wife under Common Law. A wife’s loss of legal rights carried a few advantages, however, for on marriage a husband became responsible for all of her debts, including those incurred before their wedding. In Friday’s Child Hero’s mounting debts forced her husband to sell some of his investments in order to meet the costs and Nell Cardross of April Lady fretted over a sizeable dressmaker’s bill which she dared not reveal after her husband had paid her other debts. A husband was legally bound to support his wife so long as they shared a bed and board and if she committed a crime (other than murder or high treason) while her husband was present, under the law he was held to have coerced her and she was automatically deemed innocent.
On becoming a widow a woman regained the legal rights she had enjoyed as a single female and, in some cases, benefited greatly from her husband’s death. Lady Barbara Childe revelled in her freedom as a dashing young widow and, in An Infamous Army, vowed never to remarry. If she had owned property prior to her marriage, on her husband’s death it reverted to her; if her husband died intestate (without a will) she was entitled to a third of his personal property; if no arrangements for a property settlement or jointure had been made at the time of marriage she had an automatic right to claim support from one third of his estates for life. In some cases a widow was also provided with a dower house, usually set at a small distance from the main house on the principal estate. Elinor Rochdale in The Reluctant Widow was entitled to an income from her deceased husband’s estate and the young and beautiful Lady Spenborough of Bath Tangle moved to the dower house on the edge of the family estate several weeks after her husband’s death. By the time of the Regency a widow with pr
operty and an independent income was in a better position to protect her assets from the possibility of them being dissipated by a second husband in the event of a remarriage. The freedom enjoyed by those financially independent widows meant that they were often cautious about re-entering the marriage state.
Upper-class daughters were thoroughly schooled in what was owed to their family and the family name, and love was not considered an essential requirement for a good match. In some families, if the parents were able to arrange an eligible match, they hoped that the girl might feel affection for the chosen bridegroom; but if not, she was expected to swallow any aversion and marry him anyway. Some parents, such as Lady Ombersley in The Grand Sophy, held in abhorrence the notion of compelling a loved daughter to marry against her will; on the other hand, a girl who found herself in love would be able to contemplate marriage with a man only if he were of good birth or had a substantial estate or fortune. Love alone was not enough within the upper class. Isabella Milborne, the ‘Incomparable’ of Friday’s Child, clearly understood what was expected of a woman with her looks and breeding and dutifully encouraged the attentions of the Duke of Severn instead of those of the rakish but handsome George, Lord Wrotham. Obedience, decorous behaviour and an avoidance of any action that might make her appear ‘fast’ or forward were essential for social acceptance, and a well-bred daughter knew that any untoward behaviour would likely see her whisked off to the family’s country estate to rusticate and reconsider her feelings or to wait for scandal or rumour to recede. In Sylvester, Phoebe Marlow’s grandmother was convinced that Paris was the ideal place to take her granddaughter while her friends endeavoured to quash the rumours about Phoebe that had set the ton on its ears.
ON THE MARRIAGE MART
Marriage was a vital issue for upper-class Regency women. It offered the possibility of a degree of freedom and independence that was not generally available to them as single women and could also save them from the stigma of spinsterhood. Once they had made their debut, most girls expected to be married or at least betrothed in their first Season and certainly by the second or third. After that a family’s hopes of suitably disposing of a daughter (considered to be no longer in her first bloom of youth) began to fade and by their late twenties most women despaired of finding a suitable husband. At twenty-nine Annis Wychwood in Lady of Quality was unusual in having decided she had no wish to be married and rejecting every eligible offer made to her since her come-out.
In upper-class circles the main marriage mart was London during the Season, where the constant round of social events and activities provided ample opportunity to mingle with eligible men and find a suitable partner for an unmarried daughter. Entry to the exclusive Almack’s club was considered the height of social attainment, with admission obtainable only by a voucher bestowed on a young woman by one of its seven powerful patronesses, two of whom discussed whether or not to bestow the coveted vouchers on Judith Taverner in Regency Buck. Known during the Regency as the ‘Marriage Mart’, Almack’s was the place for the new debutante to be seen and to meet the cream of eligible Regency bachelors, many of whom made obligatory appearances at the rooms in King Street despite finding both the entertainment and the refreshment rather dull. One of the main aims of the London Season was for families of the same class to interact in a range of social settings and for their children to contract suitable alliances. For women, a creditable marriage was the great aim, a brilliant marriage was the great hope.
TO GRETNA GREEN
The tiny village of Gretna Green was situated just over the English–Scottish border on the main road from Carlisle. The village was made famous after 1754 when Lord Hardwicke’s Marriage Act took effect, precluding anyone in England from being married under the age of twenty-one without parental consent and also compelling couples to marry in a parish church building before an ordained minister. Scottish law, however, made no such demands and Hardwicke’s edict had little effect over the border where a man and woman could be married without notice. Sixteen was the legal age to marry in Scotland and parental consent was not needed. For those in love and below marriageable age, for older men seeking a younger bride or for a rake or fortune-hunter dangling after a rich young heiress, Gretna Green was the obvious destination.
Many couples made the journey along the Great North Road from London. It was a long drive by coach and, even undertaken at speed or in fear of pursuit by outraged relatives, took several days. It was also a costly venture as Gerard Monksleigh discovered in Bath Tangle when he calculated the post-charges for a journey of over three hundred miles. Under Scottish law a couple wishing to marry needed only to commit to one another in the presence of at least two witnesses to make their union legal. Although young couples could be and were married in the smithy or over the anvil by the blacksmith, most marriages were performed by ‘anvil priests’ in the inns of Gretna Green. The idea of being married over the anvil has passed into folklore since then and may originally have been a matter of convenience. In Gretna Green the blacksmith’s shop was located in the centre of the village at the intersection of five coaching roads known locally as ‘Headless Cross’. It was therefore easy to find and the blacksmith, used to being awoken at all hours for shoeing, was possibly more amenable than most to being disturbed by anxious couples wishing to tie the knot.
Faced with parental opposition to their marriage, a desperate young couple might consider a flight to Gretna Green.
A BRILLIANT MATCH OR A DISASTROUS ALLIANCE
A good match required good birth; wealth was also important but a rich man of greatly inferior birth would not be considered except in times of dire financial need or when such an offer was clearly the only chance for a daughter to be married—and even then too lowly a birth could preclude such a mismatch. A disastrous alliance was perceived as one in which a woman married a man of inferior birth with no fortune or expectations—an eventuality which, in Sprig Muslin, led Amanda’s well-bred grandfather to forbid her engagement to a mere captain in the 43rd Regiment. The possibility of such an unequal match was one against which heiresses, especially young debutantes such as Fanny Wendover in Black Sheep, had to be continually guarded and known fortune-hunters, rakes or impecunious younger sons with no hope of inheriting the title were generally held at arm’s length or avoided completely.
Most inappropriate matches could be circumvented as long as the correct protocols for arranging a marriage were followed. A man wishing to offer marriage approached the parents first, sought an interview with the father (or the mother if a widow) and made his intentions known. These would then be conveyed by her parents to the young woman who might be given the opportunity to respond. Or, if the parents were happy with the match, they would give their permission for the man to approach his intended himself and endeavour to persuade her to accept him. As Kit Fancot discovered in False Colours, men were sometimes compelled actively to seek approval from the prospective bride’s extended family as well, and were even subjected to a period of assessment before consent could be given. This was especially so in cases where the bride was bringing a fortune or estates to a less well-heeled but impressively well-born suitor.
Once a couple had agreed to wed a notice was sent to the papers announcing the betrothal. From this point it was virtually impossible for a man to withdraw without committing breach of promise (for which he could be sued) or worse, damaging his honour and reputation. The right to cry off or end an engagement was the woman’s prerogative and she could generally do so with impunity provided it was not too close to the wedding date. A woman who gave back her ring after the wedding arrangements were finalised (as Lady Serena Carlow did in Bath Tangle) risked being branded a jilt and could suffer socially as a consequence. An engagement period was usual and it was necessary to call the banns on three Sundays in a row before a marriage could proceed. Where a couple was determined to marry quickly, as was the case in Friday’s Child, a marriage licence enabling an immediate wedding could be bought from the bishop.
During the Regency many of society’s fashionable elite were married
at St George’s, Hanover Square.
A good marriage was the primary goal for most women; failing that, almost any marriage was preferable to the single state, the exception being an inappropriate match which could result in a daughter being cut off from her family. Marriage afforded a degree of independence and a freedom not available to the single upper-class woman as Lady Buckhaven was pleased to discover in Cotillion. A married woman could go out unchaperoned; she could have a range of male friends; she could go out with another man socially; she could even take a lover—provided that she was discreet and had already done her duty by presenting her husband with an heir. Most upper-class women were conscious of the elasticity of morality once they were married, and of the fact that this could and would very often apply—although often unequally—to both husband and wife. Nell Cardross in April Lady was well aware that her husband might have a mistress or conduct an affair for that had been her mother’s experience—it was she who had carefully instructed Nell in the importance of never asking difficult questions or communicating that one knew anything about such things. An aristocratic mother might counsel her soon-to-be-wed daughter that her future husband’s extramarital activities simply did not concern her. For many women it was far better to marry a man who had no thought of fidelity or for whom they had no particular affection and be mistress of their own household, than to remain for ever a dependant in the parental home. For Melissa Brandon of The Corinthian, marriage to the very rich Sir Richard Wyndham was her ‘duty’ and in The Grand Sophy Cecilia’s older sister Maria felt compelled to marry the blockish James in view of his respectable offer, her papa’s financial difficulties and the reality of there being four other sisters to provide for. And if they were unhappy, there was always the hope that their husband might die on the battlefield, the hunting field, in a duel or from an excess of drink. Although arranged marriages were often successful, during the Regency love-matches became increasingly common as more and more men and women sought the fulfilment to be found in a relationship based on genuine affection, mutual respect and love.
Georgette Heyer's Regency World Page 7