The Marriage Market (17 page)

“How beautiful.  Thank you so much for the exquisite flowers.”  She preceded him into the sitting room and placed the bouquet in a crystal vase.  Pulling a pair of scissors from a drawer, she snipped two of the blooms from their stems.  One she inserted into her upswept hair; the other she tucked into the gentleman’s lapel.

“There, we are both quite splendid now,” she said with a smile.

“My dear, you are never otherwise,” the gentleman responded, offering her his arm.

They left the sitting room and walked to the front door.  The butler handed Mr. Wovington his walking stick and hat while a maid draped Jemma’s silk shawl over her bare shoulders.  Jemma instructed the maid to attend to the roses, and the couple descended the stairs to her waiting carriage.

James had made plans to meet his father for lunch at his club the next day.  Naturally, he was very curious to hear how his father’s evening had gone.  Mr. Wovington was already seated in the smoking room when James arrived, precisely on time.  They chatted about the weather and the rising price of muslin until the waiter had conducted them to a private table in the dining room and taken their order.  Only then did James say to his father, “Well, sir, I am all ears.  What did the lady say?”

Mr. Wovington eyed his son for a moment.  “Not what I had hoped, unfortunately.”  James began to express his dismay, but his father interrupted him.  “We had finished an excellent meal, and were enjoying a glass of wine when I told Mrs. Greene how highly I esteemed her company.  I said that I had been widowed some fifteen years, and that I missed the companionship and comforts of a wife.  I explained that I could provide very well for her, and that in the event of my predeceasing her, she would inherit an income that would sustain her more than comfortably for the remainder of her years.  At first she smiled, but the longer I talked, the more frozen that smile became.  Finally, I finished, and waited for her response.”

“And what did she say?” James asked.

“She said that while she had the highest respect and admiration for me, she could not accept my proposal because she had feelings for another man.”

“Blast.  You don’t say!  Why, that is unexpected.  Did she say who the man was?”

At that moment, the waiter returned to place a plate of soup before each gentleman.  Mr. Wovington placed his napkin on his knee and reached for his spoon as the waiter left.  “Yes, James,” he said, taking a mouthful of soup, “she said that the man she has feelings for is you.”

“She said what?” James exclaimed, dropping his spoon into his broth and knocking over his wine glass.  The waiter hurried back to mop the dripping tablecloth and remove the overturned glass. 

James leaned toward his father and whispered, “Are you sure that you did not misunderstand her?  What does she mean that she has feelings for me?”

“She told me that you have been a great comfort to her since her arrival in Bath, my boy.  She said that she began by admiring your intelligence and business acumen, but as time progressed and she came to know you on a social footing, she began to appreciate your other qualities.”  Mr. Wovington continued eating his soup while his son sank back in his chair to stare at him.

“But how long has she felt this way?  I never had any inkling.  Generally I am very good at perceiving a woman’s feelings for me.  I am sure that she never said anything, or even intimated anything that I could have construed as being more than a friendly interest.  I cannot believe it.”

The waiter returned with another glass of wine, and removed the soup dishes.  “She said that she was very fond of your shining blue eyes, James, and the dimple in your right cheek,” Mr. Wovington said with a smile.

“This is preposterous, Father.  What nonsense.  I cannot believe that she is in earnest.”

“Oh, she is, Son.  She made a clean breast of it, telling me that she never felt this way about any man before, including her husband.”

“Then why has she not said anything to me?” James demanded.  The waiter returned with the beef course, and the gentlemen waited until they were alone again to continue their conversation.

“I asked her that, James, because I am sure that you would have warned me on Sunday if you had any suspicion of her feelings.  She said that she was too shy to tell you how she felt because she is no longer in the first bloom of youth.  She said that women younger and prettier than she seek your company.  She hopes that an attraction might develop between you through your business association, and that that was one of her motivations for going into trade.”

“Well, I am absolutely floundered,” James said, lowering his face into his hands.  He peered at his father through his fingers.   “What am I going to do, Father?  What should I say when next we meet?”

“Absolutely nothing, James.  I told her that I would not tell you any of this.  She would be mortified if you knew of her feelings.  She said that it would make conducting business with you too difficult.  I promised that I would not tell you anything, but how could I keep that promise when you wanted to know how my marriage proposal was received?  She didn’t know that I had already told you that I was going to propose.”

“Really, Father, I am sorry to be the cause of your disappointment.  You must believe me when I tell you that I had no inkling of Jemma’s feelings.”

“I believe you.  I must say that it stung pretty sharply when she told me that my rival was my own son.  But I lay awake for hours last night considering the situation, and if I cannot have Jemma for myself, then I am glad that you will have her.  We shall keep her in the family.  I am very fond of that girl.”

James groaned.  “Father, she is a marvellous woman . . . .”

“And damned attractive.
”

“Beautiful,” James said.

“Plus she has money, brains, style, education . . . .”

“Yes, yes, she has all of that, but I do not have the same feelings for her that she has for me.”

Mr. Wovington put down his knife and fork and pushed his plate away.  He pulled a cigar from an inner pocket, trimmed the end, and lit it.  Neither man said anything as he puffed on the cigar until the tip glowed red.  Putting the match onto his plate, Mr. Wovington leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.

“I am not going to tell you what to do, James.  I have never interfered with you and your women.  I could see that you were not serious about any of them yet, although you seemed to be getting close with that little Pursing girl.  You treated them respectfully enough and never damaged anyone’s reputation, although you were getting a bit of one for yourself.  And putting off marriage is to be expected in a man working as hard as you are to make a name in the legal profession.  But I will say that you will have to go a long way to find a finer woman than Jemma Greene.  Just because she has had the good sense to admire you before her feelings are reciprocated does not make her any less of a prize.  Give her a long, hard look before you decide that she is not the one for you, Son.  I think that she could make you happy, and that is a rare thing in most marriages.  Give it some thought.  There, that is all that I have to say on the subject.”

“Yes, Father, thank you, I appreciate your advice.  I am not saying that Jemma is not everything you say that she is.  I am just surprised, that’s all.  But, what will you do now?”

“Well, James, I am going to let you pay for lunch, and then I am going to the coach yard to make arrangements for my departure tomorrow morning.”

“And what about Jemma?  What will you do about her?”

“She is a businesswoman who will succeed in whatever she attempts, and my friend.  I will continue to support her in any way I can, and I will no doubt prosper from our association.”  He grinned.  “And there are other fish in the sea.  Mrs. Hopkins, whose husband left her a livery stable in Salisbury, has been sitting in my church pew and sharing her hymnal with me.  She is still a fine figure of a woman, and tells me that she is lonely now that her daughters have married and moved away.  I believe that I will escort her to the church picnic next Sunday.”

James smiled at his father.  “A well-considered plan, sir.  You deserve to have the affection of a good woman in your life again.”

His father winked.  “Don't worry about me, my boy.  The apple did not fall far from the tree, you know.”

When James arrived at Mrs. Greene’s home early the next morning, Jemma and his father were eating breakfast together.  James joined them for a cup of tea.  He glanced at his father, who winked back as he chewed a piece of toast.

“Are all your arrangements made, Father?  Is there anything you need?” he asked.

“No, James, everything is done.  My trunks are closed and already loaded onto Mrs. Greene’s carriage.”

“Our visit went so quickly, Mr. Wovington.  It seems as though you arrived just a day or two ago.  We’ve accomplished so much during your visit.  I cannot thank you enough,” Jemma said.

“My dear, you are most welcome.  It was exciting for me to be in at the start of a new endeavour again.  Reminded me of all my own adventures when I was starting out.  I had a cart, you know, and I used it to visit the shops with my samples.  Every customer earned was a major victory until I could finally afford my own premises.  Those were happy days.”

Jemma patted his hand and smiled at him fondly.  He raised her hand to his lips.

“But, I must go now, my dears,” he said, rising from his chair.  “Mrs. Greene, I leave you in James’ capable hands.  If you continue as you have begun, I have no doubt that you will soon be queen of the ladies’ fashion import business in Bath.”

Jemma rose to take his arm, and she and James walked Mr. Wovington to the front door. 

“There’s a packed lunch and a bottle of lemonade in the carriage for you.  That should carry you until your first stop this afternoon.  Have a safe trip, and I shall write to you of my progress,” she said, kissing his cheek.

James embraced him warmly.  “Have a good trip, Father.  I shall come to visit you in early September to attend to the Dover family’s business.”

“Ah, yes.  Your connection with that family has been most profitable, James.  I would not be surprised if the younger son, Ronald, does not throw you some business one day soon.  That rascal has been in and out of trouble since the day he could sit a horse.”  Mr. Wovington held James at arm’s length and regarded him closely.  “Take care of yourself, Son.  Make me proud, as always.” 

He turned to Jemma, bowed, and walked down the front stairs to the waiting carriage.  Jemma and James stood waving as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and trotted down the street.  Jemma linked her arm with James’ and sighed. 

“I will miss your father,” she said as she gazed into the distance.  “I have become quite fond of him.”  James started ever so slightly and turned to her. 

“I know that he is very fond of you, Jemma.  He rates your friendship very highly.”

Jemma nodded and walked back into the house with him.  “We have started something very fine between us, James.  We will both make him proud of us.  By the time he visits again next year, he will be surprised by how much I have accomplished.”

James glanced sideways at Jemma, but did not say a thing as she led him into the morning room.

Chapter Sixteen – An Opportunity

James did not see Jemma during the next few weeks while he attended to business he had postponed on her behalf, but he did hear reports of her doings: of visits to the shops, of a spectacular entrance she made at a concert in Sir Stephen Andrew’s home, and of a particularly sophisticated gown trimmed with ostrich feathers that she wore to a private ball.  Jemma was building a reputation for elegance and sophistication, and the town was abuzz with her latest exploits.  Most of what James heard was favourable, except for the disparaging remarks of one or two dowagers who wondered at the forwardness of a middle-aged widow whose husband had been in trade.  On these occasions, he made reference to Jemma’s fortitude in the loss of both child and husband, and, as the women could never attach any scandal to her behaviour, he managed to quell the jealousy that prompted such ill-natured comments.

One rainy afternoon, James was on the point of entering his favourite tobacco shop when out swept his most illustrious client, Lady Hélène Ferguson.  She was a comely, mature woman of French birth who had left her homeland to marry Lord Harold Ferguson.  Some years later, she had asked James’ help in arranging the extradition of her younger brother.  James had succeeded in extracting the sibling with most of his property intact, and Lady Hélène had promoted James to her friends and treated him like a favourite pet.

“How do you do, your ladyship,” James said, sweeping off his hat and making a deep bow.

“Mr. Wovington, how good to see you again.  You are well, I hope,” the lady said with a gracious nod.  A maid tried to shelter her mistress with an umbrella as best she could in the crowded doorway.  James inquired after Lady Hélène’s family, and the lady said, “Bah, it is a dirty, damp day, and we can hardly have a good gossip stuffed into a doorway.  I have been longing to hear about your protégé, Mrs. Greene.”

“I would hardly call her my protégé, your ladyship.”

“Really?  Then I would like to hear what your relationship is with Mrs. Greene and how she progresses with her business.  Why do you not take me to drink some coffee in the café down the street where you can tell me all about her?”