Vicky exhaled. Two years sounded like an awfully long time for poor Althea to wait for her separation, and she wouldn’t even be able to find another husband when it was over. “Is there no way for Althea to remarry?” Vicky said.
“The only way would be to obtain a Parliamentary divorce, but Lord Dain would have to bring a petition to the House of Lords on the grounds that Lady Dain had committed adultery.”
Which her sister clearly hadn’t done. “But can’t Althea petition Parliament on those grounds?” Dain had already admitted to having a mistress. Vicky looked at her father. “Or you on her behalf, Papa?”
Her father shook his head.
“It would not be successful,” Mr. Barnes said. “Suits brought by wives against adulterous husbands rarely succeed even in the ecclesiastical courts, let alone Parliament.”
Vicky’s blood boiled at the injustice of it all. Why shouldn’t Parliament allow a wife the same recourse as a husband? Her sister had done nothing save try to be a good wife, and now her life would never be the same.
Their father nodded. “Go on, Barnes.”
Mr. Barnes eyed Althea. “Lady Dain, are you still determined?”
Althea gave a short nod. “I am.”
Mr. Barnes inclined his head. “Our difficulties in the case would lie chiefly in the evidence. The viscount has already claimed he never touched Lady Dain and the bruises on her person were the result of a fall. It would seem his servants are loyal to him, save for, perhaps, the stable master,” he said with a nod to Althea. “I am afraid, due to the lack of reliable witnesses, the suit might be hard to prove.”
“But surely if we all swear to seeing her injuries, our reputations will be enough to convince a judge we are in earnest,” Vicky said.
“Perhaps,” her father agreed. “But all testimony is reviewed in writing. A witness’s character can be more difficult to determine in written statements.”
“That is correct,” Mr. Barnes said. He lifted one side of his spectacles with his thumb and forefinger, repositioning them slightly. “We can assume the majority of Lord Dain’s servants will not speak in Lady Dain’s favor in their statements. However, if we can secure an excellent proctor to argue on Lady Dain’s behalf, as well as persuade Lord Dain’s stable master to attest to what he saw, I could foresee the court ruling in Lady Dain’s favor.”
Vicky’s heart lightened at his words. She peered around the room. Her mother and father exchanged glances, and her father nodded. Althea’s eyelids sagged, but her jaw remained set.
Vicky smiled. Soon everything would be well again. Her papa could fix any problem.
“You must be exhausted,” she said to her sister. Althea was staring into the middle distance, but at Vicky’s words, her gaze flicked sideways to the door. Vicky stood and turned to her parents. “I will take Thea to her room.”
“Victoria,” her mother said with a strange, unreadable expression, “there is still more to discuss.”
Vicky tilted her head to the side. “Mama, Thea needs to rest.”
Her parents exchanged glances again.
“Victoria,” her father began, “you must marry. By the end of the season.”
Vicky’s breath seized in her throat. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. He could not be in earnest.
She inhaled deeply to compose herself. “What have I to do with any of this?”
Her father stood and motioned for her to sit again. He nodded at the solicitor. “Mr. Barnes, please begin the proceedings to appeal to the Court of Chancery. I trust you will apprise me of the proctors you intend to approach about the suit for the ecclesiastical court?”
The man stood. “Of course, my lord. Lady Dain must be in residence in London for a short period before a proctor can register a citation to summon Lord Dain to the court. However, I shall find the best proctor possible in the interim.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Althea said.
Mr. Barnes smiled at Althea with a slightly melancholy air. Then he bowed and left the study.
Vicky’s father returned to his chair, turning his attention to her.
Vicky’s heart drummed in her ears. “Why did you not wish Mr. Barnes to stay?”
“We thought it would be more comfortable for you,” her mother replied.
Vicky swallowed. Comfortable. How considerate they were. At the moment, she felt about as comfortable as a rabbit in a snare.
“As you are aware,” her father began, “you and Althea are my heirs. Because you have no brother, one of you will inherit my title, the Oakbridge estate, and all its holdings. Under common law, I must petition the crown to choose one of you to inherit the title. If I were to petition the king now—or rather the prince regent—he would choose Althea, as she is our eldest daughter and married to a peer of the realm. Your mother and I had intended to allow you the time you needed to choose a husband. We had thought to wait until then to decide which of you girls would be best equipped to maintain Oakbridge after I am gone. Unfortunately, circumstances now require us to act.”
He paused, and Vicky coughed, her throat suddenly dry.
“If something should happen to me, and we do not win the suit for Althea’s separation, the estate will fall into Dain’s hands. Now that we know Dain for what he is, we cannot allow him to gain control of Oakbridge if you remain unmarried.”
Vicky inhaled to calm her racing pulse. In the last year since her debut into society, she had not met a man who had so much as tempted her to give up her freedom. She’d decided that if she could manage it, she would remain at Oakbridge permanently. However, she hadn’t told her parents that. She’d rather thought they’d figure it out eventually. But now what could she do? Well, to begin with, she could not let Dain ruin her life as well.
“But Papa,” Vicky said, hating the lilt of frustration—or was it desperation?—in her voice, “Mr. Barnes seemed confident we would win the suit.”
Her father shook his head. “We must not rely on possibilities. Certainties must be the order of the day. And it is an utter certainty the regent will choose whom he thinks worthy to inherit Oakbridge by virtue of her husband. If we do secure Althea a separation from Lord Dain, the scandal attached to her name will make the regent disinclined to give her the title and lands, but if you are still unmarried, he could let the petition languish unanswered at his leisure.”
Vicky dragged in another deep breath. She knew what her father had not voiced: if the regent refused to decide who would inherit Oakbridge, the estate, the tenants, and everyone who depended on the Astons would suffer. Without a known heir, their tenants wouldn’t know who to pay rent to. Without rents, repairs and improvements couldn’t be made. The longer uncertainty reigned, the faster their well-functioning estate would devolve into chaos.
Vicky shut her eyes tight. She felt as though a dense fog had enveloped the room and now pressed in on her from all sides. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she pictured herself shackled to someone like Dain: someone who wouldn’t want her recommendations, someone who’d lock her in a room if she disobeyed him. Most of the gentlemen she’d met were decidedly narrow-minded when it came to females interfering in what they considered the male sphere. One of their neighbors had actually choked on his wine when she’d mentioned an essay on animal husbandry she’d recently read.
She ventured a glance at her father, but she couldn’t read his expression. Her gaze shot to her mother; regret shrouded her regal features. Her parents’ marriage—an actual love match that still flourished—constituted the exception, rather than the rule. Most men didn’t care to give their wives the intellectual and physical freedom Vicky’s mother had grown so accustomed to over the years. Vicky’s father had never subscribed to the philosophy that women were inferior, feebleminded beings.
Vicky thought he had always treated her much as he would have treated a son. Until now.
She raised her chin. “Do you imagine to sell me to the highest bidder like some broodmare
at auction?” she bit off.
“Of course not, Victoria,” her mother said at the precise moment her father said, “Do you wish to lose Oakbridge to Dain?”
Vicky looked down at her hands, pressing her lips together. She couldn’t allow Dain to gain control of her home and everything she’d helped her parents build there. The people, the land, the traditions: their preservation was far more important than her happiness. For that matter, if she kept her freedom, how could she possibly be happy knowing she’d sacrificed everything she held dear?
She glanced at Althea out of the corner of her eye. Her sister’s head was bowed, her face a blank. She was pale. Too pale. Vicky knew it was selfish, but she wondered if Thea felt any remorse over the situation Vicky now found herself in.
Heavens, she was a despicable person to think such thoughts!
Her stomach roiled. Vicky looked down into her hands again, wanting desperately to return to her idyllic life of a week prior. Then again, if she were wishing for impossibilities, she’d rather return to the days of her childhood when nothing had been so complex.
“You said you would help.” Althea’s airy voice echoed through the room.
Vicky turned to her sister. Althea caught her gaze and held it, daring her—or perhaps expecting her—to break her promise. Vicky swallowed back her qualms. She sat up straight in her chair. “And so I shall.”
Chapter the Fourth
Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always disagreeable . . .
—Jane Austen, Emma
As Vicky and her mother stood at the top of the Duchess of Rutherfurd’s grand staircase, Vicky held her breath as she peered down at the ballroom. The room twinkled with hundreds of beeswax candles, illuminating the duchess’s Indian theme. Great bolts of richly colored silks draped from the ceiling, swathing the room in a brilliant red hue. Exotic orange flowers imported from the West Indies overflowed from massive urns and vases while East Indian delicacies, artfully arranged on gold platters, waited to be nibbled. One could not help but feel as though a Raj’s palace had been constructed in the heart of Mayfair.
However, Vicky’s admiration melted with the sound of the murmuring crowd. She would have been more than happy to observe the ball from this very spot rather than become part of the display, but she had promised Althea.
Dear Althea should have been here, smiling and composed, not at home frightened to venture out because of her fiend of a husband. Vicky’s sole consolation was that all the fiends she’d ever read about did get their punishment in the end, even if it was only the general disapprobation of society like the silver-tongued Henry Crawford in Mansfield Park.
Vicky bit her lower lip as she surveyed the people in the ballroom below. In Miss Austen’s novels, girls with country manners and little dowry attended balls and captured every worthy gentleman’s eye. She at least had a respectable dowry. She should win someone’s favor. Shouldn’t she?
She tilted her head. She really had no reason to suppose she’d have as little success finding a nice gentleman as she’d had last season. In truth, she hadn’t really looked, and her parents had generally let her alone to do as she pleased, which had entailed dancing whenever possible and avoiding the girls who acted cattish or rude. Though this was not her debut, she had more to recommend her than Fanny Price, whose first ball in Mansfield Park had eventually led to an offer of marriage (from Henry Crawford, but an offer nonetheless).
Vicky’s mother gave her a tiny nod, and they descended the staircase.
Vicky’s pulse quickened as the beady, hawkish eyes of society assessed her from every angle. She wet her lips. The Duchess of Rutherfurd’s ball was the first ostentatious event of the social season, and many considered it the unofficial opening of the marriage mart. Vicky wrinkled her nose, then remembered herself and forced a smile. She would simply have to act as Fanny Price for the evening; she’d nod and smile and keep her opinions to herself. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would keep her promise to Althea, cost what it may.
Exhaling, she glanced down at her gown, thankful her mother had insisted on having new dresses made. According to her mama, one couldn’t actively hunt for a husband without a new wardrobe. Whether that was true or not, neither the stuffiest matrons nor the fiercely fashionable could find fault with her lilac gown tonight. The bodice was modestly cut, but the cap sleeves had been trimmed with expensive blond lace and the hem adorned with festoons of the same delicate material. The waist sat fashionably high, and the skirt, ornamented with small pearls, contrasted with the dress’s hue and gave it a flirtatious yet elegant appearance.
Vicky’s maid had swept her waves into an intricate twist and curled wisps at her hairline to frame her face. The entire process had taken hours. Yet, as much as she appreciated her appearance at this moment, she would much rather be in her favorite breeches or the serviceable frocks she wore to amble about the countryside. Come to that, she’d also rather be curled up in a corner of the library at Oakbridge.
When Vicky and her mother reached the receiving line at the bottom of the staircase, the Duchess of Rutherfurd stared down her beaky nose at them. “Why, Lady Oakbridge, Lady Victoria, what a surprise to see you in Town this early in the season. I had heard the Astons would not be coming up to London until June at the earliest. Yet here you are.”
The duchess was a rather large woman with graying hair and a propensity for cutting comments. Unfortunately, as Vicky’s mother had reminded her before the ball, the duchess’s social position was such that only the prince regent—and sometimes not even he—could make her hold her tongue.
“Duchess,” Vicky’s mother said, “we would not miss your annual ball for anything. You always host the social event of the season.”
Vicky smiled politely at the duchess. Her mother had always been a master of social niceties. Vicky’s tendency to speak her mind meant the elder members of the haut ton had relegated her to the rank of mediocre conversationalist. But in cases such as these, with a disgruntled hostess, Vicky’s strategy was to keep her mouth firmly shut and smile. She suppressed the urge to tell the woman there were far more important things happening in the world than her silly ball.
The duchess eyed them both. “That is a verity, to be sure. My balls are rarely surpassed.”
Vicky pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle.
“And where is the earl tonight?” the duchess continued.
“He is unwell, I’m afraid,” her mother replied. “He sends his apologies.”
Ah, her father’s well-worn excuse for bowing out of any social function he had no wish to attend. Tonight, however, Althea had refused to venture beyond the confines of Aston House. Their father had stayed to watch over her, lest Dain take the opportunity to steal her back. Until her father had voiced his concerns on the subject, Vicky hadn’t imagined Dain might be so desperate as to resort to kidnapping. Yet she had to admit she still knew very little about what the man was capable of.
Althea continued to evade Vicky’s attempts to talk about him. Each day her sister kept her silence increased Vicky’s worry for her. And when Vicky wasn’t fretting about her sister, her own circumstances troubled her.
The duchess sniffed, clearly displeased. “And where is your other daughter, Lady Oakbridge? She and Lord Dain confirmed they would attend as usual.”
Startled, Vicky opened her mouth to inquire further about Dain, but her mother answered quickly.
“Unfortunately, my daughter has also taken ill. Nothing serious. I am certain she must have told Lord Dain to go on without her. No doubt he will arrive later.”
The duchess stepped backward. “Two illnesses! I do hope it’s nothing catching. It would hardly do for the Aston family to die out.”
Vicky’s gaze narrowed. The terrible old harpy!
“Indeed,” her mother said coldly.
The duchess dismissed them both, with the rejoinder that they simply must enjoy themselves and tell the earl everything he’d missed by not attending.
“Mama, are you not worried about Dain?” Vicky whispered as they crossed the room side by side.
“Not precisely worried. And nor should you be. Althea must have accepted the invitation weeks ago.”
“Do you think she feared seeing him here tonight?”
Her mother nodded.
Vicky asked in a whisper, “Has Althea told you anything more of what happened between them?”
“Victoria, this is hardly the place.” Her mother looked around her as though someone might have heard them. Guests continued to descend the staircase. Clusters of gentlemen and ladies peppered the room, but few stood within earshot.
“Please, Mama.” Dain showing his face tonight was now a very real possibility. It would be prudent to know more of his true character.
Her mother hesitated, but then paced to an empty pocket on the side of the ballroom. She whispered, “I know very little. Althea showed me more of her bruises, but she would not speak further of what had happened. Your father said he would try to draw her out tonight. Perhaps she will have told him more by now. I pray being home under your father’s protection and away from Dain for almost a fortnight has put her more at ease.”
Vicky sighed and added her own prayers to her mother’s. “But what are we to do if Dain comes tonight? He will undoubtedly speak with us. And I cannot fathom his behavior. I know if he comes near me, I’ll give that villain a piece of my mind. I’ll—”
“No.” Her mother narrowed her gaze. “Vicky, you must control yourself. You must act as though nothing has happened.”
Vicky gaped at her. “After what he did to Thea! Mama, you cannot be serious.”
“I am quite serious,” she said, smiling and inclining her head to a small group of middle-aged ladies walking past them toward the refreshment table.
Noting her mother’s behavior, Vicky managed a half smile.
“If you make a scene, it will only hurt your chances with the gentlemen,” her mother continued. “Simply avoid Dain if you can. If you cannot, come find me or stay in the crowd. Do not give him any opportunity to get you alone.”
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