Elizabeth Mansfield (2 page)

Her aunt paced the room with an angry stride, the stiff silk of her rather old-fashioned skirts whispering with matching anger every time she turned about. Letty began to count her aunt’s paces … eight steps to the window, swish … eight steps back to the sofa, swish … eight steps to the window, swish …

A groan from the sofa caused Letty and Aunt Millicent to turn their heads. Lady Glendenning, stretched out full-length, sighed and raised her hand from her eyes. Her arm made a tremblingly nervous arc through the air and fell to her side where it dangled over the edge of the sofa in listless despair. “Whatever are we to do now, Millicent?” she asked in a quavering voice. “Whatever are we to do?”

“Ask your daughter!” Millicent said with asperity. “
She’s
the one who whistled a fortune down the wind!”

“Letty, my love,” her mama asked tearfully, “
how
could you have done it? How could you have
refused
him?”

Letty, her lovely hazel eyes filling with tears, merely shook her head. Her aunt looked at her closely. Aunt Millicent, the formidable Lady Upsham, was no fool. No girl in possession of her senses could turn down a man like Lord Denham without a very good reason. “There
must
be someone else,” she said for the third time. “You’ve fixed your heart on some ineligible wastrel, no doubt, and hope to make a match of it, in spite of your mother’s wishes and your family’s need, isn’t that it?”

Letty looked up, blinking, as two tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve told you and told you. There’s no one else. N-no one. I j-just c-could not …”

“You could not accept an offer from the most eligible bachelor in England? I fail to understand you, Letitia. It is not as if we were marrying you to an ogre. Or even to an old dodderer with nothing to recommend him but his purse. Denham is
more
than a wealthy peer. He is nothing if not charming and witty. His address is excellent, his mind is superior to most of the young men of your flibberty-gibberty generation, and God knows he’s as handsome a man as I’ve ever seen, even if his complexion is darker than I like and his eyebrows somewhat heavy …”

“Was
that
it, Letty dear?” her mother asked in concern. “Did you take an aversion to his eyebrows?”

Letty had to smile, even if somewhat tremulously. “Oh, Mama, of course not!”

“His complexion, then?”

Letty’s smile faded, and she returned her eyes to the patch in the carpet. “There’s nothing at all amiss in Lord Denham’s appearance,” she said in a flat voice.

Lady Glendenning pulled herself up on one arm and peered closely at her daughter. She had never seen Letty in such distress. The poor girl looked positively hagged, although Lady Glendenning had to admit that even her excessive pallor failed to detract appreciably from the loveliness of Letty’s face. Letty was blessed with thick auburn hair, high cheekbones, a clear complexion, and a full, expressive mouth. And her eyes, even when red-rimmed and tearful, were large and lustrous and showed clearly the gentleness and intelligence that were her nature. Lady Glendenning had waited for two years, ever since Letty’s come-out at eighteen under the auspices of her sister-in-law, Lady Millicent Upsham, for Letty to choose one of her rich suitors to marry. It was Letty who would save the family from sinking into a mire
of debt. But Millicent had urged Lady Glendenning to curb her impatience. Millicent had a match in mind for Letty that would solve all their problems. Letty would marry the man most girls in London only
dreamed
of attaching. Millicent was saving Letty for Roger Denham, the Earl of Arneau.

Lady Glendenning sighed. Millicent’s hopes for Letty had made her, Letty’s own adoring mother, uneasy from the first. Lord Denham was past thirty and had never succumbed to matrimony. All Millicent’s assurances that Roger Denham would come up to scratch failed to ease her mind. Lovely as her daughter was, Lady Glendenning knew that there were others more beautiful, more well connected, or more lively, and that Lord Denham had ignored them all. Letty, quiet and self-effacing, was not likely to catch quite so big a fish. Couldn’t Millicent be content with a lesser prize?

But Millicent had been adamant. Her connection with the Dowager Lady Denham was very close, and she knew that she, Roger’s mother, was quite taken with Letty. And, just as she had predicted, Lord Denham had taken an interest in Letty and had
offered
! Millicent and Lady Denham, between them, had done the trick. It was Letty herself who had ruined everything! What maggot had found its way into her devoted and very dutiful daughter’s head to cause her to do such a terrible thing?

Lady Glendenning lay back on the pillows with a groan. “I don’t understand you at all,” she said tearfully. “If you don’t hold his appearance in aversion, what
is
it that made you refuse him?”

Aunt Millicent snorted. “The answer is obvious. There’s nothing about Lord Denham to revolt a girl. Why, there’s not another girl in all of England who would refuse him. Your daughter has her eye on someone else. It’s the only possible explanation.”

Lady Glendenning shook her head. “No, Millicent. Letty wouldn’t lie to us. She has always been the most devoted, the most obedient, the best behaved of all my children. She’s never lied to me or given me the slightest trouble. She would not ruin her family by refusing a fortune—not for such a reason as that. You are not in love with some penniless fellow, are you, my darling?”

“No, Mama,” Letty said quietly. “I swear I’m not. I’ll marry anyone else you say.
Anyone.
” Her eyes filled with tears again. “But not Lord Denham.”

“Then at least tell us
why
!” her aunt demanded impatiently.

She shook her head. “Please don’t ask me to explain. I … can’t explain it to you. I c-can’t!” she answered in a choked voice.

“Don’t you realize, you silly peagoose, that there’s not much chance of finding someone else now?” Millicent asked in disgust. “No one will believe that you turned Denham down. They will all say that he found
you
unsatisfactory and did not come up to scratch.”

“Oh, my God!” wailed Lady Glendenning from the sofa. “I’d never thought of that …”

“Neither had your daughter, apparently,” Millicent muttered angrily. “Perhaps if she had, she would not have been so quick to refuse him.”

“It would have made no difference. I would have refused him in any case,” Letty said in a flat, dead voice that her mother barely recognized.

“Stop badgering the girl, Millicent,” Lady Glendenning said helplessly. “I can’t bear to see her so unhappy.”

“What about
your
unhappiness? And the rest of the family’s?” Millicent demanded. “Why didn’t she think of
that
?”

There was no answer. Lady Glendenning covered her eyes with trembling hands, and Letty stared in miserable silence at the carpet. Finally, Millicent sighed in defeat. “Well, go up to your room, Miss. I want to talk to your mother in private.”

Letty rose quickly and hurried out, almost colliding with her brother who had not moved quickly
enough from the door. “Ned!” she gasped.

“Quiet!” he hissed nervously, carefully shutting the door behind her. “Do you want Aunt Millicent to know I’ve been eavesdropping?”

“Then you heard—?”

“Most of it. Whatever made you do it, Letty? Do you really dislike him so much?”

“Oh, Neddie, don’t
you
start on me, too!” Letty cried, and she burst into long-suppressed tears and fell against his shoulder.

Ned looked down at his sister’s bonnet in perplexity. “There, now, don’t cry,” he said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “You know I can’t abide waterworks. Besides, there’s no need for tears
now.
It’s all over and done with.”

“D-done with?” Letty raised her head from his shoulder. “W-what do you m-mean?”

“You’ve turned him down, haven’t you? It’s done with. However much they may scold, they can’t make you marry him now.”

This brought out a fresh flood of tears. “You d-don’t understand,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “You d-don’t unders-stand at all!”

“What is there to understand? Lord Denham asked you to marry him. You didn’t want to marry him, so you refused him. Let Aunt Millicent carry on all she likes. It’s too late for her to force you to marry him now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” his sister nodded, still sobbing.

“Then I’m dashed if I can see what you’re crying about. Stop it, will you? You’re soaking my riding coat. Here.” He lifted her head and handed her his handkerchief. “Dry those eyes, you silly puss. Everything is going to be fine.”

Letty took a deep breath and tried to control her tears. Sniffing bravely into his handkerchief, she muttered, “Everything is going to be dreadful.”

“Nonsense,” her brother said decidedly. “You’ve only to weather a little scolding. They’re bound to give up sooner or later. And when the noise is all over, you’ll no longer have to marry a man you dislike.”

“That’s just it,” Letty said, gulping back her tears and thrusting his wet handkerchief into his hand. “I
don’t
dislike him. In fact, if you want to know the truth, there’s no man in the world I’d
rather
marry than Roger Denham!” And she fled up the stairs, leaving her brother staring after her in openmouthed bewilderment.

The sight of his mother’s blue-and-gold coach at his doorway caused Roger Denham, Fourth Earl of Arneau, to groan out load. Lord Denham had not had a good day. First, his morning call at the home of his mother’s bosom bow, Lady Millicent Upsham, to make an offer for her good-looking but rather mousy niece, had ended in disaster. Not that his heart was in any way touched. (He sometimes wondered if he would ever learn to feel the tender emotions so rapturously described by the poets.) But he had certainly suffered in his self-esteem. He had been given to understand by his mother that the chit was more than eager to receive his addresses, but when he had made his speech to her (and it was in his most charmingly polished manner, too), she had looked up at him with eyes that he had to admit were remarkably lustrous and had stumblingly told him that she was very sorry for the inconvenience (as well she should be! He had wasted the entire morning!), but that she was unable to accept his very flattering offer. (If she had been in any way flattered, she certainly didn’t show it.)

He had made a hasty retreat and had promptly repaired for solace to the residence of Mrs. Brownell. The captivating Kitty, a notorious widow whose opulent apartments and costly wardrobe he had been financing for some years now, was (as usual) completely compliant, but he found her practiced lovemaking neither stimulating to his depressed spirits nor soothing to the wound that had been dealt to his consequence.

The evening had been as flat and dull as the afternoon. His club had seemed to be devoid of good company, and his usual luck at the card table had quite deserted him. He’d left early, hoping that a good night’s sleep would wipe away the memory of this irritating day. Thus, as he approached his residence, the sight of his mother’s carriage fixed at his front door struck him as a particularly treacherous twist of fate. This ill fate was intent on clogging his steps as closely at the end of the day as it had at the beginning.

With a sigh, he submitted to the inevitable and went in to face his mother. He found her seated in his study in his favorite wing chair, her eyes closed. But he knew she was not asleep. Her tapping foot, her frowning expression, and the motion of her quizzing glass (which swung from a long chain that she dangled between her fingers) gave mute evidence that she was (1) wide awake and (2) quite angry. He smiled down at her affectionately. His mother sometimes enjoyed affecting an acerbic manner—her sharp tongue and aloof dignity brought her admiration and respect from her peers, her servants, and all who met her—but she couldn’t hide from her son the deep warmth and affection she felt for him and which he returned in no small measure. He bent and kissed her cheek.

The Dowager Lady Denham opened her eyes, raised her quizzing glass, and looked at her son coldly. “So, you’re home. Quite early, too. I fully expected to have to wait for you at least another hour.”

“Good evening, Mama. I suppose you will think me quite beetle-headed to be surprised to find you here.”

“Beetle-headed, indeed, if you
truly
didn’t expect me. Did you think that I would take no interest in the result of your interview with Miss Glendenning this morning?”

“I was persuaded that you’d have heard the result of that interview from other sources,” Roger
responded drily.

“And so I have. But I want to hear from
you
exactly what happened today.”

“I’ve nothing to add that you’ve not already heard from your friend, Lady Upsham. I presented myself at her door promptly at the appointed hour. I made my speech to Miss Glendenning in my most charming style. She looked up at me with those remarkably speaking eyes of hers and told me bluntly that she was unable to accept me. I responded that I quite understood, hoped we might remain friends, made my bow, and departed.”

“And that’s the whole of it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Lady Denham rose and began to pace with impatient strides. “The girl gave you no explanation for this astounding turn of events?” she asked incredulously.

Roger grinned at her affectionately. “How like a doting mother you sound.”

She glared at him. “Doting? Balderdash! In what way am I doting?”

“In your ready assumption that any female’s refusal of me is astounding,” he answered promptly.

Lady Denham gave a ripple of laughter. “Obnoxious boy! Do you think I’m so besotted a mother as that? We are not speaking of
any
female. Only this one. I’ve met Letty Glendenning on more than one occasion, and I had the distinct impression that she was more than a little interested in you. And, in addition, her family has everything to gain by the match. The whole matter is quite puzzling.”

“Not at all. The girl has simply taken me in dislike, or—”

“Taken you in dislike!” his mother cut in with asperity. “Rubbish! Why on earth should she?”