Second Season (24 page)

“Oh?” said his wife innocently. “What sort of property?”

“A decentish small holding from what I learn,” he shrugged, “and a grand come-up for
him,
of course—but what’s a hundred acres and five hundred a year,
Nelly? Damme, Emily needs that much for her clothes alone, judging by the bills I’ve paid these past months.”

“For a London season,” she agreed thoughtfully, “but it would be far less when she is married and settled in a modest locality. Besides, she will have her dowry—or do you disapprove so strongly as to withhold it, Robert?”

“Good God, how can I tell?” he said violently. “No, of course she must have something, Nelly, but I’d allotted fifteen thousand for her and Louisa—ten for Sharlie, because she already has twenty from m’mother—but what’s to do now, when Eustace has no more than five?”

“I fancy they’d go on very comfortably with twenty thousand pounds,” she returned after a moment, “but much depends upon the exact circumstances of house and land, Robert. I believe we should see it for ourselves to determine the degree of comfort obtainable.”

“He’s asked George and myself to ride over for breakfast, or go back after the hunt and join him for dinner ... but dash it, Nelly...”

“Yes, I’m disappointed too,” she said obliquely. “I’d expected Emily to make a brilliant match, but she does not choose it. After all, Robert, our daughters are not to be married merely for the sake of
our
consequence. If she prefers to be Lady Eustace Gayle rather than Viscountess Pelham, why,” she smiled demurely, “
I
took a lowly baron in preference to an earl.”

“What?” Lord Stanwood stared at her incredulously. “Damme, Nelly,
what
earl? It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Never mind which earl,” she said serenely.

“I believe it’s a hum!”

“No, it is not, and if papa were alive he would tell you, for he was just as disappointed in you as you are in Eustace, but however, I had my way—and I think Emily must have hers, my dear.”

“Damme, an earl, eh? God bless my soul!” Lord Stanwood was so much struck by his wife’s revelation, and so occupied in casting his mind over the available earls during her season, that he readily (if absently) agreed to sanction Emily’s betrothal as soon as Eustace’s property had been approved by parental inspection. “Yes, very well, whatever you think best,” he murmured, staring into space. “Was it Caterham?” he asked suddenly.

“No.”

“Ampleforth?”

“No. Had you not better dress for dinner, my love?”

“Yes,” he went off, still pondering, while Lady Stanwood made her own toilette with suppressed chuckles that baffled Miss Tinsdale. What could have so amused her ladyship? Nor was it clarified when his lordship cast open the door to announce triumphantly, “Richmond! That’s who it was, and don’t deny it, Nelly.”

“Oh, dear, I hoped you’d forgot him,” she sighed. “Hah!
Richmond
, eh? By Jove!” and off he went, obviously in high twig, while her ladyship gave way to giggles. But she vouchsafed no word of explanation, and the dresser was dismissed to be tantalized by a mystery: why should the name Richmond cause hilarity?

CHAPTER XI

At
C
alydon
T
owers,
Julian and Stepan were equally baffled. “Mees stays at Alden Manor, but that Maria is not with her,” said Stepan glumly. “There is some mystery, milor’, but I cannot discover it. The groom is polite, but he says
nothing
in a way that shows there is something to be said.”

“Miss Stanwood says
nothing
in a way that shows she has no wish to say anything,” the duke replied bitterly, “and I could wish my mother would follow her example.”

Returned from Bath, Lady Imbrie had rapidly been apprised by Miss Clapham of Charlotte’s presence in the neighborhood. Upon her son’s arrival, the dowager had taken the earliest opportunity of informing him. “I wonder at it! What can she mean, to be coming
here
?”

“I suppose she means to visit her aunt and uncle.”

“I wish her joy,” Lady Imbrie sniffed, “for a more callous,
unfeeling
woman than Lady Alden I have never met. Luckily, they are not in our parish and we rarely encounter. I always speak when we do; I make it a point never to have bad blood in the environs, for that would reflect upon you, Imbrie.”

“Very true. I thank you, madam.”

Miss Clapham quailed at his sardonic tone, but
Lady Imbrie was oblivious as always, and continued to voice disapproval. “And now here is Arthur! You recall I always thought ... but surely she could not have the effrontery!” The dowager’s voice died away momentarily, then resumed, “I cannot understand it at all. He was never used to visit so constantly. One would think he
lived
here.”

“At the moment I have need of him upon estate matters.”

“Oh, in that case,” she said grudgingly, “although you have a bailiff, after all, and ten to one that Arthur is calling at Alden Manor the moment your back is turned, Imbrie.”

“Why, so shall I. There is a matter of an acre wanted by Ridgeway from Lord Alden in the section that abuts my land.”

“
Call
at Alden Manor? But...”

“But
nothing
, madam. I have dealt with Alden these ten years, and his niece in no way affects our relations. I wish you will be a little less
busy
in what you fancy to be my behalf.” Julian scowled impatiently, and strode from the room, leaving his mother openmouthed.

He was as nervous as a green goose, setting forth for the hunt—and totally cast down on his return. “She was all that was polite,” he told Arthur gloomily, “but she doesn’t want me. That’s clear to be seen, she’d scarcely a word to say to me, Arthur. I think I’ll not go again, I can’t distress her by attentions she obviously does not wish.”

“If ever I heard a faint-heart!” Arthur exclaimed scornfully. “Good God, man—she let you stay beside her the entire course. What more could you want for encouragement?”

“What choice did she have?” Julian shrugged.

“If I know Miss Charlotte Stanwood’s command of her horse, she had every choice to rein in, draw back, mingle with another group,” his cousin remarked. “She did not. She rode with you—and what’s more, her eyes were on you from the moment you’d parted. Oh, yes,” as Julian’s eyes swung to him hopefully, “she missed none of your conversation with this one and that ... particularly her father and Lord Alden,” Arthur chuckled. “She’s wondering if you’re still of the same mind, uncertain what she’d say to a formal application to her father. One thing’s sure: the widgeon’s bespoke.”

“Where had you that?”

Arthur shrugged, “My dear Julian, it’s not necessary! You said yourself the young’un wanted Gayle—and here he is: furnished with a bit of property. I don’t say Stanwood’ll care for it, but there’s a set to Miss Emily’s jaw ... she’ll have Gayle, or I’m a Dutchman.” He laughed, “Damned if I ever thought to see such sport around Calydon! Here’s Aunt Laura moaning plaintively about the humiliation, and her companion twinkle-eyed with excitement. The twins are wanting Miss Stanwood for a step-mamma, and Miss Tolliver agrees. Oh, did you not know? They met by chance, in the home woods.”

“Good God!”

“Giles thinks she’s too good for you,” Arthur refilled his wine glass blandly, “and Cinda yearns for a step-mamma ‘who will show me how to go on, because Tolly has never had a season and Grandmamma is too old.’ ” There was a long silence, while Julian stared into space, but finally his cousin said gently, “Try again, Coz. She’ll have you, or I miss my guess.”

Julian refilled his own glass, and said defenselessly, “What am I to do, Arthur? I would not distress her for the world, but if I wanted her before, I am twice of a mind on seeing her again.”

“M’mother says you should speak privately to Lord Stanwood, telling him the whole and asking him to say nothing until you’ve had the chance for discovering Miss Stanwood’s present sentiments,” said Arthur, “but he’ll tell milady, never fear, and she will handle all.” He rubbed his nose reflectively, “I think
I
would also disclose the budget to Eustace, who will tell Emily, who will tell her sister—and you know I will do my possible.”

“Good God, you make it sound like the plans for Agincourt.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Arthur returned, “and this sounds like a siege in which you will need reinforcement.”

A mizzling intermittent rain halted the morrow’s hunt, but was not sufficient to deter the duke from driving himself and his cousin over to the late Mr. Cleghorne’s house, where they found not merely a warm welcome from Eustace, but both Lord Stanwood and Lord Alden.

“Faith, I’m honored by the topmost in the locality,” he exclaimed delightedly. “I’ll only hope my housekeeper can set out a nuncheon to suit ye, but if not, ye’ll pardon me for the moment? I doubt she’s accustomed to company. Mr. Cleghorne’d the gout, ye know, and what does a soldier know of ordering a household? I’ve my batman from Spain, but he’s more used to stealing a chicken than saying how it’ll be cooked.”

“My man will tell him,” Julian remarked, shaking hands heartily and looking about him. “I say, this is a very snug little residence.”

“It is that,” Eustace agreed, with a faint smile. “I think it’ll suit Emily, do ye not?”

“Like that, is it? My dear fellow,” Julian grasped his hand again, “my deepest congratulations.”

“Faith, and I thought
you’d
be happy to learn it, though ’tis not settled in detail and ye’ll not reveal it as yet—but however, his lordship agrees,” Eustace eyed the duke blandly, “and I count your grace as—in a sense—one of the family.”

Julian strove for composure, but Arthur’s guffaw unmanned him. “Oh, Lord, is my heart so evident on my sleeve?” he laughed helplessly, clapping Eustace on the shoulder. “Well, if it prove so, I’ll be glad of you for an in-law.”

“Never doubt it,” said Eustace, with a very direct look at Julian, “and if you are wanting a word with Lord Stanwood, the study is available.” As Julian hesitated, he added, “Or have I misread you, Duke? If so, ye’ll pardon the undue familiarity.”

“No, no,” Julian disclaimed hastily, “and I thank you for your consideration, Gayle.”

“Lud, if I ever saw such a slow-top,” Arthur remarked. “For God’s sake, Julian, get it over with. Come on, Gayle—he’ll never manage it for himself. Do get Lord Stanwood into the study with my cousin on some pretext, while I draw off Lord Alden.”

Thus, the Duke of Imbrie found himself alone with Lord Stanwood, and exceedingly nervously he said, “Milord, I—uh—should like your permission to address your daughter Charlotte.”

Lord Stanwood stared at him for a moment. “Hah! You mean you still want her?” he inquired incredulously.

“Yes—but not if it will distress her. I, uh, doubt not but you’re aware I was—rather firmly refused,” Julian examined his boots with deep interest. “My cousin and Gayle and, uh, various people think Miss Stanwood may have altered her mind, although I do not depend upon it. In asking your formal permission, I want merely to know that I would be acceptable to you and Lady Stanwood ... but I do not wish any pressure upon your daughter.”

“No, no, there’ll be none,” Lord Stanwood assured him. “God bless my soul! Of course you’ve our permission, we’d like nothing better than yourself allied to us—how can you doubt it, lad? But,” he shook his head soberly, “there’s no knowing how she’ll take it, no knowing at all—although her mother declares she’ll have you.”

“Does Lady Stanwood indeed say so?”

“Oh, lud, yes, when she would have me give Waxe’s offer to Sharlie ... telling me ‘she’ll reject him, she wants Imbrie,’ ” Lord Stanwood looked suddenly as stricken as a schoolboy. “Good God, my tongue’s too loose! You’ll forget that, if you please.”

“Never!” said Julian, his eyes dancing with satisfaction. “Not that I’ll embarrass you by a mention, but
nothing
could hearten me more!”

“Ah?” Lord Stanwood raised his eyebrows. “In that case, I’ll add that I’ve rejected three others I’ll not name. It puts a man in prime fettle to know he was best in the field,” he chuckled, and murmured to himself, “Richmond! Well, damme!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Lord Stanwood cleared his throat hastily. “So: you’ve my consent and my good will—but how you’ll do it is another matter. D’you want me to tell her you’ve offered?”

Julian shook his head with a grin. “Tell Lady Stanwood, please.”

“Now
that’s
a clever idea! Aye, Nelly’ll know what to do. Well, well,” clapping Julian on the shoulder, “I’ll be glad to welcome you, if so be you can contrive it—and if it fails, I trust there’ll be no bad blood over it ... for here’s Emily settling on your doorstep, so to speak.” He shook his head, bewildered. “What can she see in Gayle, I wish you will tell me—but however, she WILL have him, and her mother advises me to consent.”

“I think you’ll find it answers,” Julian observed. “You and Lady Stanwood have reared your daughters to be women rather than pretty figure-heads, and—forgive me—Emily has not the mind for high political discussions or philosophical dinner conversations. I fancy she will become a leading figure in this smaller neighborhood, where less mentality and more compassion is expected.”

“If you mean she’s no brains, that’s all too true,” Lord Stanwood remarked, “but neither has Eustace, so perhaps he’ll not notice.”

Although nothing was said when Lord Stanwood and the duke rejoined the company, a single sharp glance from all of them was sufficient, and the party somehow became a family group. “I’ve naught but nags,” Eustace apologized. “Mr. Cleghorne maintained his membership in the hunt, but with the gout and all, he’d let his stable go. We’d in mind to ride out for a glance at my land, but Imbrie and Lord Arthur—can ye put up with a pair of old joggers?”

“Oh, for riding the land, any mount will do,” Julian declared. “We’ll not be galloping, after all, or we’ll not see the best features.”

These, despite the heavy mist and drizzle, were heartily approved by the group, and from his authoritative comments, Eustace was revealed as a young man of considerable sense. By the time they’d returned to the house, it was tacitly accepted that he was Emily’s future husband. Lord Stanwood was torn between disappointment that his pretty Emily had done no better than a younger son, and satisfaction that Eustace knew so much of management.

“You’ll consult my bailiff or Arthur,” said Julian. “Whatever seed or stock you need, or some special information on this country—it may be different in rainfall or frost from Ireland, which could lose your crops ... but don’t hesitate to ask.”

“No, indeed,” Lord Alden agreed, “although Cleghorne’s man goes on very well—that’s if you’re retaining him? Oh, you are—well, then, you’ll have no trouble, Gayle, but if you want any assistance, come over to me.”

“Faith, and ye make me so welcome I feel at home already. We’ll crack a bottle on it,” Eustace declared. “Come away in and warm yourselves until the ladies arrive.”

“Ladies?”

“Sure, ye’d not forbid me darling to see where she’ll live? ’Tis arranged they’ll drive over for tea and inspection.”

“Oh, we’re outstaying our welcome,” said Julian. “Drink up, Arthur, and we’ll be off.”

“Good God, what IS the matter with you, Coz?” Arthur demanded. “It won’t do itself, you know.”

However, Julian couldn’t do it, either, for Miss Stanwood was first pale, then pink, and finally attached herself so firmly to her mama that there was no getting near her. “I should call it a most promising situation,” said Arthur.

“How so, when she’ll not grant me a word beyond bare civility?”

“BUT, Julian, she is totally conscious of you at all moments,” Arthur observed. “Her eyes follow your every movement about the room. She looks away when you turn, but she is listening for your voice.”

“What of it? I can scarcely stand in a roomful of company and say ‘Miss Stanwood, my sentiments remain constant—dare I hope yours may have softened?”

“No,” Arthur chuckled, “but do not be hasty. That’s what undid you the last time. Now is the moment for strategy. Leave it alone, man! Let the yeast ferment. You’ve put the case to Lord Stanwood. In due course Miss Stanwood will learn of it. Allow her to consider her answer. I should make no effort to approach her for several days,” Arthur said judicially. “Do not single her out in any way, whether in the field or in company. Say and do nothing that cannot be heard or seen by all the world, until she can feel comfortable again.

“Consider her emotions, Julian. Your mere presence must remind her of extreme awkwardness. Whether or not she regrets her refusal, she must certainly regret the manner of it. She cannot but feel there was undue humiliation of your pride,” Arthur pointed out, “and under the circumstances—with Gayle newly betrothed to the sister she believed you to be wooing—it is every way uncomfortable. In plain words, she feels she has made a fool of herself and is the more uncertain.”