“How very broadminded of you,” murmured Elizabeth.
“Yes, but you will understand, I know, that it was no easy thing to overcome my very real scruples concerning this matter. It was only after a most fiercely fought battle with my better judgment that I was able to do so!”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed! A
most
fiercely fought battle! However, Miss Ashton, after long and deep contemplation, it is my belief that if you were to live quietly, and in perfect propriety—in a most exemplary manner—for the next year or two, the talk will die down, and then we may proceed with plans for our marriage.”
“Sir, it is
my
belief that you are all about in your head! I have no intention of marrying you—now, in a year or two, or ever!”
“I am persuaded, Miss Ashton, that you are merely a trifle overset, and do not realize what you are saying. Therefore, I shall overlook it. Naturally, you do not like to think of waiting so long as a year or two for your happiness, but I do not see that it can be done any sooner. And, after all, you must know that you are not likely to receive a more advantageous offer.”
She was so furious by then that she longed to strike him, but it gave her some satisfaction to see his shocked expression when she replied, “As for offers, my lord, I am pleased to tell you that I have received a
much
more advantageous one. I shall soon be wed to Mr. Carlyle!”
“You cannot wish to be married to that...that conscienceless rake!”
“On the contrary. I am quite sure that I shall like it excessively!”
He was horrified, and his mouth opened and closed ineffectually several times before he was able to say with rigid formality, “Miss Ashton, I have never been so shocked! Clearly I have been much mistaken in your character! I shall count myself fortunate to have been undeceived before it was too late!”
“I am in complete agreement with you, my lord. You can have no notion of how mistaken you have been!” Elizabeth told him. “But you were never in any danger, for I would not have had you under any circumstances! And now I think we have both said quite enough. I am persuaded that you had best leave before one of us is tempted to say something for which he may be sorry.”
Without a word, he turned and left, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She had finally sent her unwanted suitor to rout, and she thought of how Charles would laugh when she told him. But then, with a pang of regret, she remembered that she and Charles were not on such easy terms any longer.
She was leaving the drawing room when it suddenly dawned upon her that, without a thought, she had committed herself to marrying Charles. And somehow, in spite of all, it was like the lifting of a great burden from her shoulders to have the decision made.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aunt Emily, when apprised of the news later that afternoon, became almost crazed with delight and joy. Nothing must do but that a note must be sent round, instantly, to Laura Place, and when that was done, she plunged exuberantly into wedding plans.
“Of course you must wear your mother’s wedding gown, for I have saved it all these many years for just this occasion, and of course you must have a trousseau. But for that, I am persuaded you will wish to have a London modiste, for you know, my love, that those here in Bath cannot compare. They are all very well in their way, but they will not do for your bride clothes. You will agree with me on that head, I know.
“Now, do let me think... oh, yes! We must have the imitations printed up, but of course, we cannot do that until we have made up a list of guests, and then, too, we must decide where it will take place. Do you not think St. George’s in London, my love?” . Elizabeth, who had been wondering how Charles would receive the intelligence that she was now ready to accept his offer, had been listening to her aunt with only half an ear, but upon hearing Aunt Emily’s final words, she looked at her aunt in appalled horror. “Good God, no! Aunt Emily, whatever are you about? These elaborate plans will not do. I will much prefer a very private, simple wedding here in Bath.”
“Not St. George’s?” asked Emily disappointedly. But her jubilation could not long remain suppressed, and she was soon bubbling over again. “Oh, well, I suppose Bath will do well enough. In truth, my love, the more I think on it, the better I like the notion. I am persuaded that it will be the most stumendous wedding Bath has ever seen.
“But I am forgetting. We must decide when it is to be. I fear it will take some time to arrange it all, but then, configuring all, perhaps it would be as well not to postpone it for
too
long a time. What do you think, my dear?”
“Forgive me. Aunt Emily. What did you say?”
“My dear, you are not listening, and I am persuaded that you should, for this is a very important occasion for you! One only gets married once, you know. Or, at least, one
should
only marry once. Of course if one happens to be a widow, or even a widower, one
may
marry more than once, however—”
“Oh, Aunt Emily! Stop! You are giving me the headache, and you may even be counting your chickens before they are hatched. For all we know, Charles may no longer wish to marry me.”
Aunt Emily stared at her niece with astonishment. “Not wish to marry you? Have you run mad? Of course he will wish to marry you. He has no choice.”
Elizabeth winced at this, but Aunt Emily was already pulling a sheet of writing paper from her desk and beginning to make a list, and so she did not see the result of her unwittingly tactless remark.
But Elizabeth was not so sanguine as her aunt, for she had begun plaguing herself with the possibility that Charles might no longer be of a mind to wed her. After all, she had refused him quite adamantly, had even invited him to wash his hands of her. Perhaps he had even left Bath, and at this thought, she felt a distinct sinking sensation.
But that fear, at least, was laid to rest when, shortly after dinner, Wiggons brought in a return note from Charles. Elizabeth opened it with trembling hands, and the sinking sensation returned as she read: “Elizabeth, Most gratified to receive your message. Will call upon you in the morning. Charles.”
She stared at it despondently for several minutes, then castigated herself for being such a lackwit. What had she expected—a love letter? Not from a man making an unwilling sacrifice upon the altar of duty, certainly. And she had better keep that firmly in mind, else she was in danger of revealing her own feelings to him. And why that should be such a perilous prospect, she could not have said. She only knew that it would be, that such a revelation would somehow place her in a more vulnerable position than she already occupied, and that must be avoided at all costs.
* * * *
When Charles was announced the following morning, Elizabeth was certain that her thundering heartbeat must be clearly audible both to him and to her aunt, but he merely bent over her hand, murmuring politely, his countenance utterly impassive, before turning to Aunt Emily.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said with more warmth than he had shown towards Elizabeth.
“Oh, Charles. I collect you have come to discuss the wedding plans.”
“As you say.”
“Oh!” Aunt Emily’s hands fluttered nervously, “Oh, yes! Oh, but, my dear boy, I must tell you—I am quite
aux angles!”
Charles’s eyebrows shot up. “Aux... ?” Elizabeth gave way to tension-relieving laughter, while her aunt gazed from one to the other in bewilderment.
“I believe Aunt Emily meant to say
aux anges.”
“Well, I am perfectly sure that is what I
did
say!” Two pairs of laughing eyes had met in perfect accord until Aunt Emily’s voice brought them to a sense of where they were, and Elizabeth’s face became a coolly polite mask, while Charles cleared his throat and assumed a faint scowl.
“Do sit down, Charles,” Elizabeth invited him quietly.
“Thank you.”
He seated himself, while Aunt Emily rang for refreshments, and the three of them discoursed upon the weather and the state of everyone’s health with all the enthusiasm of mourners at a wake, until Wiggons had served them and withdrawn from the room.
Charles cleared his throat once more. “Margaret and I have discussed the situation from all sides, and have reached a solution which I believe will be best for all concerned.
“The two of you shall travel to Langley Hall within the next few days, in company with Margaret and Melanie, and we shall be married there, by special license. I shall leave for London today to procure the license and will join you at Langley at the end of the week.” His dark brows lifted questioningly again at Elizabeth’s look of dismay. “Have you some objection?”
Objection? Oh, yes!
She objected most strenuously. She wished never to set foot in Langley Hall again for as long as she lived, but of course, she could not tell him that without disclosing her reasons, and that she was not prepared to do.
She said faintly, “I had thought a very private, very quiet wedding here in Bath would suffice.”
“I agree that the quieter it is, the better it shall be. But you cannot wish to afford the Bath Quizzes more matter for gossip. The sooner you remove from this vicinity, the sooner talk will die down.”
“Oh... yes, of course, but must it be Langley Hall?”
He frowned. “You have a preferable location in mind?”
She had not, and was obliged at last to admit as much, however reluctantly.
At this juncture. Aunt Emily suddenly stood, murmuring vaguely, “Oh, dear, I have only just remembered. I must speak with Cook.” And with that, she fairly flew from the room.
Elizabeth could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at her aunt’s transparent ruse and at finding herself alone with Charles, absurd as that was. Heaven knew they had been left alone together more often than not in the past, but his world-weary expression and the disgusted curl of his lips did not help matters any.
“I suppose,” he drawled, “that one cannot wonder at your... fall from virtue, when one considers your deplorable upbringing. Of course, we are betrothed now, but I could have saved myself a deal of grief had I tumbled to your aunt’s game early in our acquaintance, when she so constantly and improperly left us alone together.”
“Charles... please!”
“Oh, come now, my dear! If you think playing off these missish airs is pleasing to me, you couldn’t be more wrong. At least grant me the consolation of deriving
some
benefit from your unusual rearing.”
“Very well!” she said angrily. “I grant you that both my aunt and I were at fault, but if we are casting stones, then your sister must come in for her share. In fact, I would venture to say that she is due the lion’s share, for I doubt very much that Aunt Emily devised that ramshackle plot!”
He inclined his head. “I daresay. At any rate, I concede the point.”
“Thank you!”
“Not at all. Do you agree to travel to Langley as I requested?”
“I said as much.”
“So you did. Then, if you have nothing further to say...” He looked a question.
“I...” She glanced away. “What of—what will happen after the wedding ceremony?”
“I shall take you to Brentwood, of course, before I...” He stopped and gazed at her for a moment, then asked abruptly, “How many?”
Her eyes met his, her brow creased in puzzlement. “How many?”
“How many men?” he asked shortly.
She was certain her face must be flaming now. “Only one, damn you! And only once!”
For a fleeting second, she could have sworn, a look of relief crossed his face, but it was gone instantly and he said softly, “Ah... a small blessing to be thankful for.”
Knowing that it could only lead to further unpleasantness, but unable to stop herself, she challenged him. “How many women?”
He rose hastily from his chair, towering over her. “By God, woman! Have you no sense of what is fitting conduct in a lady?”
Determined not to be intimidated, she gave him stare for stare. “Perhaps I am more woman than lady!” she retorted and, ignoring his stunned expression, rushed on, “Oh, I am quite cognizant of the fact that ladies are not even supposed to be aware of the inevitable truth that men have numerous liaisons both before and during marriage. Or, at least, a lady is supposed to ignore that fact. And I know that the more women a man has, the more highly esteemed he becomes, whereas if a woman makes even one mistake she is held to be lower than the basest criminal! It is the greatest piece of bias! Who the devil made up such a rule?”
“Doubtlessly a man,” he admitted, and was chagrined at having to suppress a strong urge to smile. This was no time for his damned, bizarre sense of humour to surface, and thank God she had lowered her eyes, so did not perceive his struggle.
Damn it! She was challenging one of man’s most inculcated tenets, one it had never occurred to him to question.
He paced a few steps away, ran his fingers through his hair, then returned and lowered himself into his chair once more. “Listen to me, my dear. Inequitable as it appears to be at first glance, there is a very good basis for that particular rule. Oh, I am not saying that it is right that a man should... well, we shall not go into that just now. What I wish to say is that a man is expected to be experienced. It is to a bride’s advantage that her husband have some experience.” Then he added, in a bitter tone, “I am sure I need not explain that to
you!”
Her eyes lowered swiftly again, and he sighed deeply. “Forgive me. I had not intended to rip up at you again. But to return to what I was saying... A female’s virtue is the greatest gift she can give to her husband, and it should be saved for him alone, not.. .not given lightly and promiscuously to just any man who takes her fancy. Damn it, a lady is not supposed to feel...” He stopped himself again and frowned oddly before continuing. “In any event, aside from all that, there is an even more important, natural foundation for that rule. If a man’s bride is not a virgin, how can he be certain that his children are his own?”
She had no answer for that. What could she say in her defence? That, except for that one fatal night, she had lived a totally blameless life? Even if that should count with Charles, she had no proof to offer him. Or, could she say that, despite her age at the time, she had been quite innocently unprepared for her will-shattering response to an unknown man’s practised lovemaking?
That
was no excuse. A lady was not supposed to feel passion, and certainly not with a stranger.