Elizabeth Mansfield (24 page)

Brandon also viewed the day with distaste. He stood leaning his forehead against the windowpane, watching two children play a game of hopscotch on the walkway below. He envied them their agile limbs and carefree hearts. From his window, he could see a bit of Union Street, which was already busy with strollers. That meant that the square before the Pump Room would by now be thronged with cheerful crowds, and he envied them, too. Only
he,
he felt, burdened with an injured leg and a bruised heart, was isolated from the laughing world and bereft of even the comfort that drops of rain upon the glass would have offered him. On a rainy day, one was less apt to be aware of a bustling, cheerful world outside one’s window. Brandon realized that his thoughts were selfish and petty. He tried to turn them in a nobler direction. “Waste not tears over old griefs,” Euripides had written. “No human thing is of serious importance,” Plato had said. Why, today, did he feel that his Greeks were not as wise as he once had thought?

Even Mr. Eberly found the sun irritating. While he stood at his shaving mirror, a ray of sunshine, reflected in the glass, found its way to the left point of his mustache, emphasizing the fact that an increasing number of gray hairs lodged among the brown. “I’m well aware of them,” he said to the streak of light in disgust. “I don’t need you to point them out to me!” With a glance at the window and the glorious day that lay beyond, he sighed and asked whatever gods might be listening in, “Don’t you think the time has come for a little rain?”

***

The morning was quite well advanced when Letty knocked at the Peakes’ door. Her knock was answered by the elderly butler, who informed Miss Glendenning that Mrs. Peake was not at home. Letty, who had already peeped into the Pump Room to make certain that Mrs. Peake was there and, therefore, surely not at home, pretended to be disappointed. “Oh, dear, that
is
too bad. However, you may announce me to
Mr.
Peake if you please. I have found a book I feel sure will amuse him during his
convalescence and am most eager to show it to him.”

The butler pursed his lips in disapproval, but Letty put up her chin and stared at him firmly, and the old man, shaking his head in a manner that clearly revealed his low opinion of the manners of the younger generation, led her to the library. There they found Mr. Peake seated in a wing chair, a book unopened on his lap, staring moodily into space. At the sight of Letty his eyes brightened perceptibly, but they quickly took on a look of wary concern. He struggled to his feet. “Letty! How … how nice,” he said awkwardly.

The butler showed an inclination to linger in the doorway. Letty glanced at him over her shoulder, wondering what to do to arrange a private conversation with Brandon. It was not
her
place to dismiss the man. She smiled weakly at Brandon and said in as cheerful a voice as she could summon up, “Good morning, Brandon. Look at the book I found for you at the library. It’s the Thomas Bowdler edition of Gibbons’s
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
I thought it would be of interest to you.”

Brandon made a face. “Thank you, Letty. That was quite thoughtful, but I’m familiar with the edition, and, by your leave, I think it silly beyond anything. Mr. Bowdler is a womanish old prude who becomes distressed with any word even vaguely connected with the human body. Why the word
body
itself offends him. He goes through the texts and changes it to
person
!”

“That does sound silly,” Letty agreed absently. “I’ll take it back and change it for something else.” She looked back at the butler watching them in the doorway and threw Brandon a helpless look. Brandon, at last realizing that Letty wanted to talk to him and that the book was just a ruse, told the man to close the door. With raised eyebrows and definite reluctance, the butler did as he was bid.

“Sit down, Letty, sit down. By your leave, I don’t know where my manners have gone.” Letty sank gratefully into an armchair, and Brandon took his seat in the wing chair. “You wish to see me about something? I should have realized that old Bowdler was only a stratagem.”

“Yes,” Letty nodded, “and when you dispensed with him so quickly, I didn’t know what to do!”

“I’m sorry. It’s hard for a man to realize, sometimes, how difficult it is for a lady to pay a call on a gentleman when she’s unaccompanied. What did you want to see me about? I hope you’re not going to ask me to lie to Lord Denham again.”

Letty bent her head. “I’m going to ask you something much, much more difficult, Brandon,” she said.

Brandon eyed her warily. “See here, Letty,” he said bluntly, “I don’t wish to be rude, but by your leave, I may as well be honest with you. I don’t like deception. I most sincerely feel for you, and you know I would help you if I could, but I cannot—will not—lie any more.”

“But … no deception will be necessary, I assure you,” she said earnestly, meeting his eye with a level gaze.

“In that case,” Brandon said with relief, “I’ll be glad to listen.”

“First, I need some information from you, and I want you to be as frank and honest with me as you can.”

“Fire away,” he answered promptly. “I don’t mind being truthful.”

“Well, then,” Letty said with some hesitation, “what I want to know is how … how you plan to spend your life.”

This was unexpected. “Spend my life?” he echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Do you plan to live always with your mother? Do you plan to remain at Oxford? And most important, do you intend to marry, and if so, have you some young lady in mind?” Noticing how he gaped at her, Letty colored slightly. “I know these questions are most impertinent, but we
are
friends, after all, and the answers have great significance in determining how I shall proceed.”

“I see,” said Brandon, frowning. “Well, I suppose there can be no harm in discussing such things with a lady—”

“A friend,” Letty emphasized.

“A friend, then. Let’s see now. First, I do
not
plan to live with my mother. As for Oxford, my studies there will be concluded within a few months. I plan to take lodgings in London, to continue my studies, perhaps to publish some translations if they are good enough. I have friends, an adequate competence from my father, and some property which comes to me when I’m twenty-five, which—”

“I didn’t mean to pry into your financial affairs,” she cut in, blushing.

“No, no, I don’t mind. I only want to explain that my income will be more than adequate for me to live comfortably in London and to travel abroad from time to time—something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“With a … a wife?”

Brandon looked at her in surprise, looked away, and sighed. “Once I dreamed … of … of marrying. But no longer. I think I’m more suited to a bachelor life,” he said grimly.

“Oh.” Letty regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you
sure,
Brandon? You are very young, you know, and probably know very little of love.”

“I know as much about it as I need,” he declared bitterly, “and I don’t want to feel it ever again!”

“I see. Then there
was
a young lady whom you loved. Is there a possibility—even a very remote one—that you may change your mind and wish to marry her after all?”

“No, none,” he said flatly. “She is in love with another. I’ve no doubt an announcement of their betrothal will be forthcoming very soon.”

“But, Brandon, if they are not yet betrothed, you may still have a chance—”

“No, I tell you! Even if she does
not
marry him, she is not for me. She is very volatile … and irresponsible … and would not be a suitable wife for a scholar. I want a quiet life, a withdrawn life. I have no great liking for balls and parties. Oh, the theater and the opera and small dinners with one’s friends are pleasant enough, but the rest bear ‘the evils of idleness,’ to quote the great Seneca.”

“Oh, Brandon,” Letty breathed in relief, “that is exactly the sort of life
I
want! I shall make a very good wife for you, really I will!”

“Letty!” Brandon gasped. “What are you
saying
!”

Letty’s eyes flickered up at him and then fell. She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to say it so abruptly. It isn’t easy to make a proposal of marriage, is it?”

“A proposal of
marriage
! Letty, have you lost your mind?”

“Brandon, hush! You are making me feel as if I’d said something
indecent
! You are not Thomas Bowdler, after all. You don’t want me to think
you
a womanish old prude, do you?”

“No, but … but asking me a thing like that! It’s not … it’s not
done
!”

“How do you know? When people become close, they can say things to each other that may be unacceptable in the highest social intercourse. I would not be surprised to learn that
many
marriages were suggested by the woman of the pair!” Letty declared with conviction.

Brandon was not convinced. “I won’t believe it,” he said stubbornly.

Letty sighed. “Well, now that I’ve done it, shall I go on? Or are you so shocked that you want to call your old butler and have me shown the door?”

“Of course I don’t,” Brandon said impatiently. “I’m not such a prude as you seem to think. But this subject is—”

“This subject is why I came,” Letty said bravely. “I must find a husband, and quickly! Lord Denham does not seem to take our betrothal very seriously. I thought he would return to London as soon
as we told him about it, but he has remained here, persistent as ever. And everything has become worse! I’m at my wit’s end, I can tell you, and I must do
something
!”

“I wish you could think of something to do that does
not
involve
me
,” Brandon muttered ungraciously.

Letty looked at him with troubled eyes, “I’m sorry, Brandon, truly I am. But I believe my plan would be good for us both. I really
would
be a good wife to you. We have always got on well together. I could keep house for you in London and help you with your work. I could look things up for you and copy manuscripts and organize your library. And you could teach me Latin and Greek! I would love to learn. And we would be company for each other at the opera. And would it not be more cheerful to travel with a companion than to take your first look at the Acropolis alone?”

He leaned back and studied her with amazement. “Would you truly like to do those things?” he asked.

“Yes, I would. Truly.” She leaned forward and reached out a hand to him. “Oh, Brandon, I’m sure we would learn to be content.”

“Would you really like to study Greek?” he asked, moving to the edge of his chair and taking her hand. She truly was a lovely young woman, gentle and soft-spoken most of the time. She’d always shown an interest in his studies. It might be amusing to teach her the classics, to show her the famous shrines of Greece, to recite the great poems to her, to mold her mind. Prue would only have tortured him, led him a merry dance, laughed at his work, flirted with strangers under his very nose, teased him to take her to balls and festivities. She would have made an impossible wife. Yet he still felt a sharp sting of pain at the very thought of her. Perhaps Letty could help him ease that pain.

Letty watched him, her breath arrested. She had not really believed that he would seriously consider her proposal, but now it seemed that she had struck the right chord. She waited silently, her hand in his, for him to speak.

But after a moment, Brandon shook his head. “No, Letty, I don’t think your plan will work. You are even younger than I and know less of love. I would not wish to bind you to a loveless marriage.”

Letty smiled sadly. “You’re mistaken, Brandon. Women learn about love much sooner than men. I didn’t ask you about the love you have put aside, and I hope you will not ask me about mine. But I can assure you that I am not more likely to succumb to love again than you are.”

With this assurance, Brandon capitulated. They became betrothed in earnest. The only things remaining to be discussed were the details of the nuptials. In this matter, poor Brandon was to have another jolt.

“What?
Elope!
Letty, you cannot mean it!” he cried in alarm.

“Please, Brandon, don’t be difficult. It’s the only way. Think of the obstacles an elopement will avoid. We won’t have to fight my family. I won’t have to face Lord Denham ever again. And don’t try to convince me that
your
mother will be happy about this. I have had the impression that she disapproves of my entire family.”

Brandon colored. His mother would prove to be more difficult than even Letty’s aunt. She had a point there. An elopement
would
permit them to escape family censure. Once the deed was done, their opposition would be pointless.

They finally agreed on Gretna, and after much more persuasion by Letty, the date was set for dawn on the following morning. “It’s an excellent time,” Letty said with a teasing smile as she rose to leave, “for it gives you no time to reconsider.”

Brandon hobbled to the library door with her and kissed her hand gallantly. “What a poor sort you must find me,” he said ruefully. “But you needn’t worry. We are truly betrothed now, and I am not likely
to cry off. In fact, Letty, I’m rather looking forward to our marriage. I’ve had more adventures since I met you than ever before in my life. I suspect that our life together will not be dull.”

“Thank you for saying that,” Letty said gratefully. She leaned over, kissed his cheek, and with a quick reminder that she would watch for his carriage at dawn, she took her leave.

***

Lord Denham finally brought himself to face the day, and in the early afternoon, dressed impeccably in buff-colored breeches and a coat of blue superfine, he entered a jeweler’s shop on Milsom Street. He emerged ten minutes later and slipped a small package into an inner pocket of his coat. Then, squaring his shoulders, he made his way to number twelve on the Paragon.

He was admitted by a simpering maid and found Kitty standing before the window, the sunshine filtering through the sheer curtains and making dazzling highlights on her auburn hair and the curves of her white breast, which was tantalizingly revealed by the loose, low décolletage of her gown. She made a striking picture, as well she knew, but Denham was strangely unmoved. He smiled, took a step into the room, and waited for the maid to close the door behind him. Then he carefully placed his hat and gloves on a table near the door, looked up at her, and said admiringly, “You look like a painting by Van Dyke, my dear. Very sumptuous.”