“I always thought Ned would have been the better match for you, Joanna, had he not found Charlotte,” said her mother. “But then, he would have died and left you a poor widow…”
“Oh, Mother!” Joanna looked over at Lady Barrand with affectionate exasperation. “Ned never gave a second thought to me, or I to him.”
“I know, I know. But it is a shame. Your marriage to one of the Vardens would have made such sense.”
“Now, Lydia, that is enough of that,” said her husband. “Joanna has all of London to choose from. And Tony seems to have chosen elsewhere.”
“Do you mean Lady Fairhaven, Thomas?” asked his wife. “That certainly would be one way Tony could come about. Fairhaven left her all his fortune, didn’t he?”
“Yes. The estate and title went to his second cousin and the money to his widow.”
“The new Lord Fairhaven is hardly poverty-struck, Father,” commented Joanna. “After all, he managed his cousin’s business for years.”
“Yes, he has built up a tidy fortune of his own, I’ve heard.”
“I wonder,” mused Lady Barrand, “if Fairhaven set up his will like that for them to make a match someday.”
“I had not thought of that, but you could be right,” said her husband. “However, the way things are proceeding, the last earl must be disappointed, wherever he is! Lady Fairhaven has encouraged no one this Season but Tony Varden.”
“But she is an older widow, Thomas.”
“Only by a few years, my dear. And she is still as attractive as when she married Fairhaven.”
“I never did understand how her parents could have done it. A seventeen-year-old girl married to a forty-six year old before her come-out! Some parents only see their children as pawns in a financial chess game!”
“But the marriage appeared to be a happy one, Lydia. She was a devoted wife to him and was genuinely grief-stricken when he died. If she thinks she would be happy with Tony, at least this time it is her choice.”
Throughout the conversation, Joanna had kept her face free of expression. She did not want either of her parents to guess at the depth of her feelings for Tony.
She had had great hopes for her first Season, for like her parents, she too had thought a match with one of the Vardens would make great sense, but for entirely different reasons. Lord and Lady Barrand were thinking of how conveniently the estates marched together. She thought only of Tony.
They had all grown up together, she and Ned and Tony. They had ridden their ponies, fished and swum in the river, and played endless games of make-believe drawn from the legends of King Arthur. Even then Ned was the responsible one, likely to call them back from reckless climbs or keep Joanna from wading in too deeply when they went fishing. Tony, on the other hand, would dare her to follow him over a particularly high jump, and follow she would, hoping that if she could jump as high, or climb as well, he would notice her.
One of their games had ended in a never-to-be-forgotten disaster, told over Christmas punch for years after. Ned had been Sir Meliagrant, kidnapping Guinevere and tying her to a tree. Tony was Sir Lancelot and was to have been her rescuer. Unfortunately, Tony had been distracted by a deer breaking cover and had given chase after it, completely forgetting his role. Ned waited for an hour at the “crossroads” where they were to have their duel. When Tony never arrived, Ned assumed that he and Joanna had forgotten about him and he went home. It was several hours before the two boys arrived back home, neither accompanied by Joanna.
By the time they raced to the tree, Joanna had gone from boredom to fury to real fear. When she finally heard them shouting her name, she willed herself to stop crying like a silly baby and faced them with an “I could care less” face. Her hands were numb and her shoulders sore from pulling at her bonds, but her feet were well-shod and she bruised both their shins quite effectively. As Ned and Tony jumped back and incoherently tried to explain, Tony shamefacedly admitting that he had completely forgotten her, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to howl with heartbreak or laughter. She already knew she adored him. She could never have forgotten him. Her sense of humor won out. It was too much a Tony thing to have done. They all begun to laugh helplessly when she said: “Fortunate that I wasn’t Guinevere at the stake, waiting for Lancelot. I’d be a pile of ash by now, wouldn’t I?” she said after they’d untied her. Then, between giggles, she begged them both to leave immediately, before she disgraced herself. They looked blank for a moment, then blushed and got themselves out of sight so she could hike up her skirts and relieve herself.
When she rejoined them, they patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and called her a great gun and apologized all over again.
“I will just know better than to expect romance from you, Anthony Varden… Or you, Ned,” she added hastily.
But she had. She had waited for Tony to see her as something other than Joanna the good sport and old friend. He never did. He went away to university and came home and danced with her at local assemblies and regaled her with stories of his exploits. She was the first to hear of his intention to buy a commission, but that confidence meant nothing more than that he regarded her, as he never tired of saying, as his oldest and best friend.
He was on the Continent for her first Season, which almost ruined it for her. She had so hoped that seeing her in town as a marriageable young lady would open his eyes to the fact that he had loved her all along. He was there for her second Season and faithfully partnered her and gossiped with her and teased her about her conquests. But he never held her close during a waltz, much less attempted a kiss.
She had offered her sympathy when his father died. She had flung herself into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably when Ned’s coffin was lowered into the ground. A few days later she had penned him a letter, offering her deep sympathy and her own shoulder to cry on, should he ever need it. But he never spoke of Ned to her and had spent this, her third Season, hovering around Claudia Halesworth, Lady Fairhaven.
Lady Barrand was correct: Lady Fairhaven’s parents had seen their pocket-Venus daughter as a meal-ticket. But although an undercurrent of gossip had featured Lord Fairhaven as a Bluebeard, the truth was that he had fallen passionately in love with his petite blonde neighbor almost immediately upon his return from many years in India. He had amassed a huge fortune in his twenty years away, and Claudia’s parents decided that they had no problem with his money coming from trade since there was so much of it. Lord Fairhaven not only took their daughter off their hands but saved them the expense of a Season.
Society predicted that in a year, Justin Halesworth would be indifferent to his wife and that she would embark on an affair with a younger man. Society was wrong.
* * * *
Claudia had gone through the courtship and ceremony in a kind of daze. Her parents had been telling her for years what her destiny was to be. She had accepted their control over her life and had never hesitated in either her response to Lord Fairhaven’s proposal or in her recitation of her vows.
When they reached their new home, however, the reality hit her. She was a complete innocent yoked to a man thirty years her senior whom she hardly knew. She had stolen frightened glances at him in the coach. He was tall and spare with gray hair and weather-darkened skin. Her mother had briefly explained what would be expected of her that evening, but as she looked down at her husband’s long-fingered hands, she began to shake at the thought of him touching her.
Lord Fairhaven noticed her shivering and placed his coat around her shoulders. When her shivering didn’t stop, he took her hand in his and said: “You must be as frightened as I am, my dear.”
Claudia took a ragged breath and looked up into his face.
“Oh, yes,” he continued with a smile, “this is as terrifying for me as it is for you, Claudia. Here I am, a decrepit earl, hoping to make my young bride’s wedding night a pleasurable experience, while she is worrying how she will hide her displeasure.”
Claudia found her voice. “Surely not doddering, my lord,” she said, with an attempt at humor.
“Justin, please, my dear.”
“I am frightened…Justin. But more because I am so young and inexperienced than that you are old.”
“You are as kind as you are beautiful. Claudia,” Lord Fairhaven replied, with a twinkle in his eye. “But I promise you that one good thing about my having so many more years than you is that I also have, um, the experience. You are not to worry about your innocence, Claudia. It is what attracted me to you. Tonight I thought we might just dine privately and retire early and separately. We will make our way slowly.”
Claudia’s grateful look more than enough made up for his forbearance, thought Fairhaven. And so they had a comfortable supper together. He was a great storyteller and had many tales to tell about his years in the East. By the time he led Claudia up to her door she was more relaxed with him than she had ever thought possible.
When she awoke the next morning, she contemplated the door connecting their rooms for a long time. She
could
wait. He had made it clear that he would wait until she was ready. But why wait like a scared rabbit for something that was inevitable? So she drew on her silk wrapper and opened the door.
Her husband was awake and reading in bed. He looked at her in surprise as she stood on the threshold, and then patted the space beside him with his hand. She crawled under the covers, and he put his book and his spectacles on a bedside table.
“So you have come to brave the old lion in his den, eh?” Lord Fairhaven reached up his hand and gently smoothed her cheek. Claudia gave a slight shiver.
“Still frightened, my dear?”
“No, no. That felt…nice,” she whispered.
Lord Fairhaven ran his finger down her cheek again, stopping at her mouth. “And this?” he asked, as he leaned over to kiss her.
“Yes,” said Claudia with a smile after his gentle kiss.
Her husband slipped off her wrapper and his eyes gazed appreciatively at her small but ripe form. Claudia blushed, and before he could help her, shrugged herself awkwardly out of her night rail and lay flat, her arms by her sides.
“And now you think I am going to just fall on top of you and do it?” asked her husband, with that twinkle in his eye that she was beginning to appreciate.
“Aren’t you? My mother said it would be quick…a little painful…but that I wouldn’t suffer long.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Fairhaven, letting out a laughing groan. “I am amazed this island is populated at all! No, Claudia, one good thing about an older husband is that he will go more slowly and more pleasurably for you. Let me show you.” And he proceeded to caress, gently and tenderly, every inch of her until her arms came up around his neck of their own accord and her legs around his hips without her even knowing how they got there. And after the slight pain, there was indeed great pleasure.
* * * *
Their marriage was a very happy one, despite all the dire predictions. Claudia came to love her husband very much, although she never felt the passion for him that he so clearly did for her. When he died after a brief illness in the fifteenth year of their marriage, she was devastated. She had stayed by his side while he was dying, telling him how happy she had been during their years together.
“And you do not regret marrying an old man, then?” he had asked one afternoon.
“I do,” she replied, “but only because I want more years with you.”
“And my only regret is that I could not give them to you. And that we had no child.”
“You have given me all I could ever want, Justin,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. She wasn’t telling the whole truth, for she
had
longed for a child, although she had kept her great disappointment to herself.
“No, but I have given you all I could, my dearest. After I die, I want you to find someone your own age who will show you that there is even more than we had.”
Claudia was sobbing quietly by then. “Please, Justin. I can’t bear it. I cannot imagine wanting anyone else. I mean to live out my years as your widow.”
Justin patted her hand. “All right, we will talk of this no more. But you will remember this: that I wish for your happiness. I don’t want you to bury yourself in Devon.”
“I don’t think I will stay here with Mark, Justin,” said Claudia.
A spasm of pain passed over her husband’s face, but he ignored her concern and said: “Mark will inherit the title and Fairhaven, but I have taken good care of you, Claudia. You will have my fortune. You need never be dependent upon anyone. I have made sure of that.”
He had also made sure that his cousin, who had visited them often over the years, would have a good reason to seek her out. And what could be better than to have his line continued by his cousin and his beloved wife?
Claudia had returned to her parents’ home almost immediately after her husband’s funeral. She had kept only two secrets from her husband during their married life: one, the depths of her distress over their childlessness, and two, her dislike of his cousin and heir.
Mark Halesworth was only a year older than his cousin’s bride and he made a trip to Fairhaven the summer after the marriage. He was a good-looking young man and, although their acquaintance was recent, the earl and he got along very well. At first, Mark was merely polite to his new relative and Claudia suspected that he disapproved of her, perhaps believed that she had only married the earl for his fortune. As the years went by, however, and it became clear that there would likely be no children, Mark became friendlier. She was so young and naive when she married that it took her all that time to realize that the coldness she felt had little to do with Mark’s concern for Justin’s happiness and all to do with his possible displacement as his cousin’s heir.
Lord Fairhaven had offered to support Mark in the study of law, but Mark begged instead for a position in his cousin’s business. Mark had worked his way up, until, by the time of his cousin’s death, he was the manager of Halesworth Ltd.