The Six Month Marriage (12 page)

‘Should think so, too,’ snorted Lady Weatherby. ‘No good
breaking up a family just because of an odd hiccup here and there. And
marriages do cause hiccups, as I should know!’

‘My aunt married a man ten years her junior and
scandalised the neighbourhood,’ Philip explained to Madeline. ‘He was just out
of
Oxford
, and Aunt Honoria was
an old maid.’

His eyes twinkled as he said it, and Madeline guessed he
was teasing his aunt.

‘Old maid!’ snorted Lady Weatherby, clearly delighted to
be given a chance to contradict. ‘I was in my prime! Old maid, indeed! I was
younger than you are now. Besides, I didn’t create half the scandal you’ve created.
Set
London
by the ears, you
have. The Earl of Pemberton running off and getting married without even giving
notice in
The Times
.’

 ‘It will be a seven day wonder,’ said Philip. ‘Especially
now, when the Season is almost over. By the time the
ton
return to the
capital after the summer it will be old news, and some other scandal will have
taken its place.’

‘You’re a cool one, I’ll say that for you, nevvy,’ said
Lady Weatherby with a shrug of her bony shoulders. ‘But I dare say you’re
right.’

‘Such
a pity the Earl’s marriage is only temporary,’ sighed Matty sentimentally the
following morning as she helped her mistress to dress. ‘If only he wasn’t in
love with Miss Bligh.’ She picked up the silver-backed hairbrush that lay on
the dressing-table and proceeded to brush Lady Weatherby’s still-glorious
auburn hair.

‘In love with that cold fish?’ snorted Lady Weatherby. ‘Philip
isn’t in love with Letitia. He thinks she’ll make him a suitable wife, that’s
all.’ A thoughtful look came into her eye, as she recalled Philip’s behaviour
towards Madeline. She had caught an expression on Philip’s face in an unguarded
moment that had given her food for thought. ‘I wonder . . . Tell me, Matty, is
Lord Fitzgrey still in residence?’

Lord Fitzgrey was an eligible bachelor who owned one of
the neighbouring estates.

‘I believe so,’ said Matty, perplexed.

‘Good. Send him an invitation,’ said Lady Weatherby. ‘Ask
him to dinner.’

Matty was astonished. ‘I thought you couldn’t abide Lord
Fitzgrey.’

‘And so I can’t. He’s a jackanapes,’ said Lady
Weatherby, not mincing her words. ‘But a handsome one. And he has a way with
women.’

‘Is that wise, then?’ asked Matty with a worried frown. ‘What
if he makes love to Madeline?’

‘He’d better,’ said Lady Weatherby shrewdly. ‘That’s why
I’m inviting him.’

‘But won’t Philip object?’ asked Matty, forgetting to
brush her mistress’s hair in her confusion..

‘A hundred strokes!’ commanded Lady Weatherby, reminding
Matty of what she was meant to be doing. ‘Will he object?’ she repeated, her
eyes shrewd, as Matty plied the silver-backed hairbrush once again. ‘I don’t
know. That’s what I want to find out.’

‘Lord Fitzgrey may not accept an invitation at such
short notice,’ warned Matty.

‘Hah!’ snorted Lady Weatherby. ‘As soon as he knows
Philip’s new bride’s here, he’ll come all right.’ She paused as Matty twisted
her hair into a chignon. ‘You’d better invite the
Carsons
as well,’ she added.

This time, Matty did not express doubts about their
willingness to attend. Mr Carson and his sister were great admirers of the
nobility. They spent their time travelling from one fashionable spot to
another, ingratiating themselves with anyone who possessed a title, and a
dinner invitation from Lady Weatherby, no matter how short the notice, would
always receive a positive reply.

The
Carsons
were the first to
arrive that evening. Mr Carson was a small, spare man, but his sister was a
large woman in every way. She was at least eight inches taller than her
brother, and as her girth almost equalled her height she was an imposing sight.
Dressed in purple satin she entered the room like a tent billowing in the
breeze, and made straight for Lady Weatherby.

‘My dear Lady Weatherby,’ she said. She made Lady
Weatherby an extravagant curtsey, from which she had great difficulty rising
again. She at last succeeded, however. Once she was firmly balanced again, she
said, ‘What an honour it is to be invited to your table. Mr Carson and I are
quite overwhelmed.’

Mr Carson professed himself similarly gratified by the
invitation.

Lady Weatherby’s eyes sparkled mischievously, but she
welcomed the couple with otherwise perfect gravity.

‘Good of you to come. Especially at such short notice,’
Lady Weatherby said. ‘May I present my nephew, the Earl of Pemberton?’

‘My Lord.’ Miss Carson swept an even deeper curtsey.
This time, however, she did not rise. Her smile became rigid, and it became
apparent that her whalebone corsets had locked, freezing her into immobility.

Sensing her distress, her brother sprang to her aid. A few
moments later, with his help, she rose again and turned her attention to
Madeline.

‘And the Countess of Pemberton,’ said Lady Weatherby,
performing the introduction.

Miss Carson was about to sweep another extravagant
curtsey when she thought better of it and contented herself with a modest bob.
It was accompanied, however, by a most reverent bowing of the head.

Mr Carson then took Madeline’s hand, bowing over it with
equal reverence.

Madeline realised with relief that she had nothing to
fear from the
Carsons
. She had
been dreading the evening, in case a slip on her part gave away the nature of
her marriage to Philip, but the
Carsons
were so overwhelmed by her rank that she was sure any small slips
she might make would pass unnoticed.

The door opened again and the butler announced Lord
Fitzgrey.

Madeline saw Philip cast a curious glance towards his
aunt, but then she had to give her attention to the new guest.

Lord Fitzgrey could not have been more different from
the
Carsons
. He was a handsome
man of some twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, dressed fashionably but
unostentatiously in a blue tailcoat and a pair of knee breeches. He wore many
rings on his fingers, marking him out as a man of wealth and style. He greeted
Lady Weatherby and Philip with easy affability, and then turned his full
attention to Madeline.

And that was what he was giving her, Madeline realised. His
full attention. He was treating her as though she were the only person in the
room.

‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Countess,’ he
said, bowing over her hand. ‘Pemberton,’ he said, turning to Philip.

‘Fitzgrey.’ Philip returned his greeting coolly. ‘I didn’t
expect to see you here so late in the year. I thought you’d have gone down to
Brighton
as usual.’

‘I will be going there shortly,’ Lord Fitzgrey said. He
turned back to Madeline. ‘You have been to
Brighton
, of course, Countess?’ he asked.

‘No,’ admitted Madeline.

‘Then you must let me tell you all about it,’ he said as
dinner was announced.

‘Fitzgrey, you’ll take Madeline in?’ said Lady
Weatherby.

He turned appreciative eyes towards Madeline, ‘I’d be
delighted.’

Philip direct a sharp look in his direction, but then
gave his arm to Miss Carson, whilst Mr Carson escorted Lady Weatherby, and the
six of them moved through to the dining-room.

‘
Brighton
is a wonderland,’ said Lord Fitzgrey, as they settled themselves
round the magnificent oak table. ‘It has been a favourite haunt of the Prince Regent’s
for many years.’

As he talked of the Regent’s birthday celebrations,
which were held there every August; the Regent’s statue, which stood eighteen
feet high; and the sea bathing, he appeared to be speaking to the entire table.
But after the first few sentences of every new topic his eyes went exclusively
to Madeline and stayed there. He helped her to wine, he handed her dishes and
listened to her responses to his questions with concentration. Fortunately,
Madeline did not have to start any subjects and so she found it easy to
converse with him.

Meanwhile, Miss Carson was boasting of her jewels.

‘Do you know,’ said Miss Carson, ‘the Duchess was good
enough to say that she thought my poor little emeralds were even prettier than
hers?’

‘How kind,’ murmured Philip.

‘Yes, was it not?’ she asked, delighted. ‘Oh, look,’ she
exclaimed, as a confection of pastry and cream was brought in and set in the
centre of the table. ‘So elegant! So stylish! Why, it reminds me of the pastry
tower we had at Lord Somerby’s - you remember, Hector?’ She turned to her brother
appealingly.

‘Indeed. Lord Somerby has an excellent chef,’ he said.
Then, realising that praise for Lord Somerby’s chef might not be welcome at
Lady Weatherby’s table, he turned to that lady and said, ‘But not, dear Lady
Weatherby, as good as your own.’

‘It’s such a shame the Earl did not object to Lord
Fitzgrey paying such marked attention to Madeline during dinner,’ sighed Matty
as she helped Lady Weatherby into bed later that night.

‘He didn’t object,’ said Lady Weatherby shrewdly. ‘He
couldn’t. Madeline’s a new bride and so she was the legitimate centre of
attention But he didn’t like it.’ She gave a bark of laughter. ‘He looked like
he was chewing nails!’

‘And after all the effort
Pierre
had put into preparing the most delicious meal!’ remarked Matty. ‘Lord
Fitzgrey seemed very smitten,’ she went on, as she tucked the covers round her
mistress. ‘What a shame he doesn’t live in
Yorkshire
. Just think, if he did, then he could marry Madeline when her
marriage to the Earl is annulled.’

‘Fool,’ snorted Lady Weatherby, without, however,
explaining exactly what she meant. ‘Still, Fitzgrey’s served his purpose,’
continued Lady Weatherby thoughtfully. ‘And this evening’s given me an idea.
Pass me my writing-case, Matty. I’ve a letter to send.’

There
was a flurry of activity the following morning as the coach prepared to set out
on the next stage of its journey. Lady Weatherby and Matterson stood at the top
of the imposing flight of steps whilst a bevy of servants loaded the luggage,
saw to the horses and filled the coach with small touches to make the journey
pleasanter: a hamper of home-cooked food, a light travelling rug, and
sweet-smelling sachets of herbs to freshen the air. And then they were off.

‘You seemed very taken with Fitzgrey,’ said Philip, as
he and Madeline travelled north.

‘He was an agreeable gentleman,’ said Madeline
non-committally.

In fact she had not taken to him, but it would have been
the height of bad manners to say so.

Hearing her answer, she saw a frown cross Philip’s face
but after apparently wrestling with himself for a moment he said no more.

Their journey continued as before. Days passed. As they
went further north the landscape changed, becoming wilder and more open. Towns
and villages were farther apart, and in between there were expanses of wild
moorland instead of cultivated fields. There was a harshness about the moors
that Madeline had not come across before, the grass that covered them being
tougher than the lush grass that grew in the low-lying fields, but despite its
harshness she found it attractive. Here and there outcrops of rock thrust their
way out of the landscape and twisted oak trees drew the eye. Lower down, away
from the most exposed heights, sheep grazed.

And then at last they arrived in
Yorkshire
.

Since the masked men had held them up on the first stage
of their journey they had not experienced any more unsettling incidents, and
once in Yorkshire Philip allowed their pace to slow. With the gentler pace,
Madeline spent more of her time in the saddle. She wanted to see her new home
from horseback, the better to get to know it.

Philip often rode beside her, telling her about the
various landmarks they passed, as well as the names of various towns and
villages until at last he reined in his horse. Relations between them had been
more cordial since their visit to Lady Weatherby, and their rapport had
gradually returned; a rapport which would make it easier for them to convince
Philip’s friends and neighbours in
Yorkshire
that they were truly man and wife, Madeline told herself.

‘This is the edge of the estate,’ said Philip, turning
towards her one morning as they reached the top of a steep incline and looked
out across the open landscape. ‘From here on, it is all
Rochdale
land.’

Madeline took in the vast panorama that lay ahead of
them. All this belonged to Philip, she realised. And, for a short while, it
belonged to her as well.