by Fanny Finch
“Parents are prone to worry,” James replied, trying to soothe her. “And it is unusual that you are not yet wed. You must admit to that.”
“I suppose that it is unusual, but you know I have a rather intense disposition. What man would be content to marry a woman who will be treated as nothing less than his equal? With her opinion heard and respected?”
“I think you would find, if you would only pause for a moment and look about you, that there are any number of men who would be happy to court you.”
James, of course, was one of those young men, but Miss Weston did not need to know that.
Miss Weston gave a small laugh. “When they first meet me I am sure that they do wish to court me. I am not unaware of my physical charms. But you have seen my temper and my liveliness. What man upon knowing me better could possibly put up with that?”
“You underestimate yourself and your ability to stir affection in men.”
Miss Weston sighed, looking around them. “Mother helped me to cultivate the guest list. Normally she does not care so much. I ought to have known that something was afoot when she put such thought into it.”
“You mean she wishes for you to marry one of the young men assembled?”
James had no hope that he was one of those young men. He had always been invited to dinners at the Weston residence. He had to be invited as a matter of course.
Miss Weston nodded. “Or at least, they are a beginning. Some men that I may begin to consider. They are all from good families. Half of them have titles of some kind.”
“Oh, you poor thing, with your mother offering up such rich, titled, handsome young men to you. Truly, you do suffer.”
“Do no patronize me, Mr. Norwich, I pray, not tonight.”
Miss Weston, to his surprise, looked quite upset. The color in her cheeks was not the light pink of pleased embarrassment. Rather it was the bright red of genuine dismay.
“I find that I feel rather lost,” she admitted. “I do not know where I am to begin. You are the only person here in whom I can place my complete trust and comfort.
“I feel quite suddenly as though I am surrounded by wolves. And that I must decide which of them I am to allow to eat me. I know it is quite a dramatic way to think of things. But you know that I am a dramatic person and it is as near as I can get to how I feel.
“My temperament… is not one of pragmaticism. I wish to marry someone that I… well, for whom I feel those tender emotions that we English seem to be so allergic to speaking on save in the writing of clandestine letters and poems.
“And I will not accept any man who does not truly regard me. I hope that he will have those feelings of a deeper nature towards me. But some genuine regard would be a nice start.
“But you know as well as I do that most of these men are not looking for that. And so I must be faced with the choice of changing my disposition or disregarding my parents’ wishes. I am, as I am sure you will understand, loath to do either.”
James wished that he could draw her into his arms and offer up the proper comforts that a man might offer to a wife. That he might tell her that he regarded her as the best of women and that he would do everything in his power to make her happy if she would marry him.
All that he could do, however, was offer up his usual, sensible advice.
“I think that you are allowing your emotions to run away with you,” he told her. “It is something that you have been in the habit of since you were a girl. Just as you have often told me that I am too inclined to be lighthearted about a situation given the privileges of my upbringing.
“I have always appreciated when you would put me in check about my own faults and so I shall do the same for you. Marriage is not such a daunting prospect as you seem to fear it is.
“And no man would even think of changing your disposition. You are quite popular for a reason, Miss Weston. I would trust in the invitations you receive and the fact that you never once have to sit down in a ballroom.
“If you show an interest, the men of society will heave a sigh of relief knowing they at last have a chance. And there are more of them than are assembled here tonight. Including ones that might at first seem boring or monotonous. There are many that will, I think, surprise you.”
As he spoke, he could feel his own hopes slipping away. Not that he’d had many hopes in the first place. But he had entertained the quiet notion that he might, someday, pluck up the courage to tell Miss Weston how he felt.
If he could do that, then, well, it was but a little thing to go a step further and imagine that she said yes to his proposal. That she had secretly all this time held the same regard for him that he had been secretly holding for her.
Now, though, other men would see that the seemingly untouchable, marvelous Miss Weston would be at last open to their attentions.
It would not be long before they flocked to her in a way that none of them had dared to do before. James often wondered if women truly understood how intimidating they could be to men.
Every woman he spoke to made a great fuss about how nervous they were regarding courting. But did no woman think about how nerve-racking it was for the men as well?
Especially when the woman in question was as lively, as opinionated, and as educated as Miss Weston.
He did not at all wonder why no man had dared to propose to her yet. They had all feared the cutting wit she would employ. Why bother starting on what was sure to be a hopeless quest?
It was, after all, why he himself had not tried to woo her.
He drew himself up. This was not the time for him to sink into his own thoughts. He must be optimistic and cheerful, for Miss Weston’s sake.
“You will find it much easier going than you expect,” he told her. “You will see. And I shall be there every step of the way if you would like.”
Miss Weston gave him a smile that could have lit up a pitch-black room. “You are as always my savior and an administer of good judgment. I shall be sure to return the favor when a young lady finally catches your eye.”
If only she knew, James thought.
“I do marvel at your consistent lack of interest in the matter of romance,” Miss Weston went on. “One would think that a man such as yourself would desire a companion. Goodness knows you talk my ear off enough.”
“Well perhaps I save only my most witty banter for conversations with yourself,” James offered up. He wasn’t saying it in jest, but Miss Weston did not have to know that. “Perhaps I sit silent and melancholy at home all day.”
Miss Weston laughed. “I have not seen you be melancholy once since I have known you! Serious when the matter calls for it. Thoughtful and even grave when someone is in distress. But sitting about and nursing imaginary wounds of the heart? Talking wearily about existence and the cycle of life? Never.”
“You know me too well. Clearly I must endeavor to change up my behavior so that I might throw you off again. You know that keeping you on your toes has always been a particularly favorite pastime of mine.”
“I most certainly do know it! And I despair of ever meeting your standards for wit. No wonder you have yet to find a lady to call your wife. They must all scatter at your approach, knowing you are such a fearsome monster of demands.”
“Truly, it would take a lady of exceptional bravery to have to put up with me. If you hear of any lady lion tamers, do be sure to send them my way.”
He would have crossed oceans for the soft light in Miss Weston’s eyes and the carefree smile on her face. He would have crossed a mile barefoot on broken glass to ensure that she would always smile that way. That she would never have any worries, anything to make her cry.
“You must admit,” he told her, “I do not have quite the same constraints that you do. My father has not even passed away. There is no pressure on me to marry quite yet.”
“Ah, but you never know,” Miss Weston replied. “Miss Reginald’s father passed on quite suddenly and her brother had to ascend to the dukedom far earlier
than expected.
“Not that I think such a thing will happen to your father. I certainly do not wish such a thing. But we can never be certain about life, can we, truly?”
“A wise observation. Perhaps I ought to think of marriage. But if so I will never tell you such a thing.”
“And why ever not?”
“Because you are the most delightful meddler that any man has, I daresay, come across in his time on earth. You never see a situation that you cannot make better with your exuberant touch.”
“I think you mean to say my light and gentle touch.”
“Miss Weston, the only things light about you are your feet when you dance and the only thing gentle is your touch on the piano keys.”
He knew that Miss Weston would not hesitate to try and play matchmaker with him if she thought that he was on the lookout for a wife. It would be troublesome enough if she was merely a meddling friend.
But when she was also the person with whom he was in love, it became a real danger.
Miss Weston laughed again. “You are too harsh with me, sir. If I was ever in danger of becoming too arrogant in my judgment of myself, I would hasten to your door at once.
“For I know that within five minutes of conversation with you, you would have introduced me again to the idea of humility. And put me surely in my place.”
“Everyone needs a friend like that, do they not?” James countered. “You have people complimenting you all day long. You are hardly lacking for flattery from friends.
“I am providing you with a necessary service by reminding you of the ways in which you are still human. Still prone to weaknesses and flaws like the rest of us.”
Miss Weston sniffed. “And I suppose that I ought to return the favor then by pointing out to you your own flaws.”
“You already do, and quite nicely, I must admit. Or was it some other Miss Julia Weston who told me at last week’s ball that I was off the beat of the music on the dance steps?”
“That must have been some other lady. I would never do anything but compliment your dancing.”
This was an outrageous lie, and they both knew it. Miss Weston had never once complimented him on his dancing.
James was one of the best dancers at any ball he attended, and he was quite aware of it. Miss Weston was the same. Inevitably, she would try to use some complicated variation to trip him up and he would respond.
Insulting his dancing was, between the two of them, a further sign of their friendship.
There was the discreet announcement that dinner was ready, and Miss Weston curtsied to him. “I must lead the pack, as you know. I have put you at the far end by my mother. I hope that you will not mind being deprived of my sparkling conversation for an evening.
“It is only that she wishes for me to pay attention to these men, and I wish for her to have a dinner companion who will be properly attentive to her.”
“It would be an honor. I do not mind in the slightest.” He bowed to her.
He meant it as well. Miss Weston might complain about her parents but she was fiercely protective of them. Especially her mother with her ill health. To be chosen as Mrs. Weston’s dinner companion was a high compliment from Miss Weston. It meant that James was trusted completely.
He had to take his small victories where he could get them.
As he moved to find Mrs. Weston and help her into the dining room, he reflected that it might be a blessing that he was at the far end.
If he had to sit there and listen to all those other young men throwing themselves at Miss Weston, he might do something drastic. Like punch one of them. Or propose on the spot.
Chapter 3
Julia had rarely had such a frustrating dinner.
She had picked out the guest list herself with Mother. And while Mother had her opinions, all of the people that had been chosen were people with whom Julia enjoyed conversing.
It was only that now she knew she was supposed to choose one of the men to wed… or at least try to choose one of them…
Now, all she could see were their flaws.
Mr. Harbinger was far too chatty and would talk forever. And not usually about anything particularly interesting. He would wax poetic for a full half hour about the weather, for goodness’ sake.
Mr. Blithering, on her left, was far too full of himself. A man who thought too much of his own character could never think so much of his wife’s. Julia refused to be married to a man who would not give her the respect that was due to her.
It was a little more difficult to converse with others, since they were seated far away from her.
But oh, what she wouldn’t give for it to be an ordinary night.
On an ordinary night, Mr. Blithering’s arrogance would be amusing. Something to tease and indulge. Mr. Harbinger’s boring anecdotes would be something to quietly and inwardly snicker at.
Now, they spelled doom. She might be forced to be paired with such a man!
Julia would never have admitted it to passing acquaintances, and indeed had admitted it only to two people in her entire life, but she wanted a proper romance.
She wanted a man who respected her. A man who was crazy about her. A man who would do ridiculous things like send her love poetry.
Oh, she was well aware that it was ridiculous of her to think such things. But Georgiana and her suitor had exchanged copies of love poems. Surely Julia could wait for someone who would do the same for her?
Marriage, however, was mostly a pragmatic game. Mother had been overall pragmatic in her marriage. Although she had admitted to Julia that out of her potential suitors, she had chosen Father because she had most liked his personality.
Julia wanted more than just ‘like’. She wanted to feel the madcap rush of love. The fathoms deep swells of it. The aching pain in the stomach. She wanted what novels and playwrights spoke of, what Shakespeare and numerous others had so exalted.
Unfortunately, that seemed to be beyond her reach at the moment.
It seemed to be beyond the reach of most ladies and gentlemen that she knew. For all that ladies and even gentlemen liked to wax poetic and giggle about courtship… there was something ruthless and businesslike about it.
For instance, she had seen many women cut down other women, humiliate them, in order to eliminate the competition for an eligible man.
It was worse in women than in men, but Julia understood that. Men married to continue the family line and to solidify their status in life. But they did not need a wife in order to survive.
Men could be financially independent. Women could not. A woman needed a husband or she would starve. She would be outcast from society.
It was the terrible fate that had awaited Georgiana Reginald, had she not been reunited with Captain Trentworth and everything worked out between them.
Julia did not wish to be one of those ladies. Nor did she wish to become catty and competitive. Or to be subject to such behavior from other women.
She simply wanted a sweet romance with a gentleman with whom she could converse. Was that too much to ask?
All right, so maybe more like a passionate romance than a sweet romance. And maybe she wanted more than simply being able to converse with the gentleman that she would marry.
But still. All that talk about love and romance, that must be because enough people experienced it. She didn’t want it to be some fanciful thinking. Something to dream on. She wanted it to happen to her.
In any case, no dinner had dragged on the way this one had. She had found herself almost willing her mother to descend into a coughing fit so that she might end the whole affair.
Of course it was an awful thing to think. She quite hated herself after she’d had the thought. But she was feeling so utterly miserable.
She did not even have the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Norwich throughout dinner. Usually they sat close enough to each other that they might converse. Especially at dinners that she hosted, for she always made sure to put him by her side.
&n
bsp; Mr. Norwich was always a lively commentator. No matter how dull or annoying any other dinner guests might turn out to be, she could always rely on him.
Unfortunately, she’d had to put him with Mother this time.
Now she did not even have the support of her friend to make up for this torture. And for all their banter, she knew that Mr. Norwich supported her.
They had known one another nearly all their lives. He had been one of her father’s pupils back in the day.
Of course, he had been such a rambunctious boy then. Julia had thought him most distasteful. He had grown up in great wealth and stature and seemed incapable of understanding that not everyone was so blessed.