A CONFORMABLE WIFE
Alice Chetwynd Ley
Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
A NOTE TO THE READER
More Books by Alice Chetwynd Ley
Chapter I
Lord Aldwyn was lying in bed, propped up by a bank of pillows, when his son, on his way down to the dining room, looked in to see him. A strong odour of medicaments hung about the sick room. His lordship’s face was still drained of all colour, but there was more alertness about the deep-sunken eyes this evening.
“He’ll do,” whispered Franton, Lord Aldwyn’s devoted valet. He was a short, spare man with deft movements. “But don’t be staying too long, Mr. Julian, or setting him in a bustle — not that you’re likely to do that.”
The Honourable Julian Aldwyn nodded, accepting without umbrage the dictatorial manner of this old and valued servant, who had known him all his life.
“What’re you whisperin’ about, Franton?” demanded the invalid peevishly. “Damme, no need to go creepin’ around talkin’ in church voices! I’m in prime twig now, and fit for anything — anything bar talkin’ to my daughter Jane, that is, and I’ll never feel up to the mark enough for that. Be off with you. I want a word with my son.” He broke off, panting a little.
Franton obeyed, with a final warning grimace at Julian.
Julian Aldwyn advanced to the bedside, taking his father’s hand for a moment in a firm clasp.
“Capital to see you so much improved, Father, but don’t set too hot a pace for a while. I’ll sit with you for ten minutes, no more. And don’t start to argue, mind, for I’m under orders,” he added, as he saw the bloodless lips open to protest. “Devil of an autocrat, Dr. Gillingham. Beats Old Hookey into fits, and that’s a bold word!”
Recognising His Grace the Duke of Wellington under this irreverent appellation, Lord Aldwyn grinned and subsided for a moment, surveying his son.
The Honourable Julian Aldwyn was a young man of eight and twenty, a little above medium height, slim but with broad shoulders. His crisply curling dark hair was brushed forward onto his forehead over a lean, tanned face. His calm expression showed sensitivity as well as intelligence. Although his well-cut evening dress obviously owed its inspiration to one of London’s modish tailors, there was nothing of the dandy in his appearance. He looked what he was: a gentleman of birth and means. But his quiet air of assurance carried with it a hint of the self-reliance and decision acquired during his years spent campaigning in the Peninsula under the redoubtable Wellington.
“You’ll do, m’boy,” pronounced Lord Aldwyn, having recovered his breath. “You look just as you should. Never fear, I’ll not overtire myself. But there’s something I must say to you.”
“No need to say it now, sir. I’m fixed here for some time, so why not save your breath until you’re stronger?”
Lord Aldwyn shook his head. “No time like the present. I damn near had my notice to quit, know that?”
Julian nodded, his brown eyes compassionate.
“Might happen again, any day,” went on his father. “This matter’s on my mind; has been for some time. May be too late if I don’t speak now.” He paused, panting slightly.
Julian cast him a swift, appraising glance, trying to assess whether he would do more harm by quitting his father’s side at once, or staying to hear whatever Lord Aldwyn wished to communicate. The latter would be less likely to upset the invalid.
“Very well, Father, if you must. Fire away. But I beg you to spare yourself as much as possible. No long speeches, mind.”
“No need for that. It’s a simple enough matter. Don’t know that you’ll like it, though.”
“We’ll chance that. In any case —” he smiled affectionately at the older man — “I’m scarce likely to fly up in the boughs with you at present.”
Lord Aldwyn attempted a chuckle. “No. Got you there, ain’t I? Well, it’s this. You’re my heir: when I quit, you take the reins. That’s all right and tight.”
Julian nodded. His quick mind had already seen what was to come.
“Thing is, there’s no one to follow you. Must have a successor. Aldwyns been here for close on two hundred years. Time you married, m’boy.”
He leaned back wearily against the pillows, having shot his bolt. It had taken more effort than he could well spare, but he felt a strong sense of relief that it was done, even though he had some qualms about its reception.
His son said nothing for a moment, then nodded calmly. “Yes, of course. I, too, have come to realise that necessity, of late.”
“You have?” The invalid leaned forward again, almost eagerly. “Someone in mind, eh?”
“Not yet. But I assure you that I shall, as the politicians say, give the matter my most earnest and immediate attention.”
Lord Aldwyn grunted. “It’s to be hoped you mean more by that than they do!”
Julian rose to his feet and bent to kiss his father’s forehead. “You may safely trust me, Father. Think no more of it. And now, good night. I’ll send Franton in to you.”
Closing the door softly, Julian sent in the hovering valet, then continued on his way downstairs.
His mother and two sisters were already in the dining room about to take their places at the table. Lady Aldwyn, a faded blond-haired woman, who still showed traces of her former youthful beauty, looked up anxiously as her son entered.
“How did you find Papa? He would insist on seeing you tonight, after Dr. Gillingham said he was to have no visitors today but myself. It always excites him to be crossed, you know, even when he’s in health. That’s why Franton thought it might be best to let him have his way, provided you did not stay long. I myself may stay only ten minutes at a time. But I’m sure you did not stay too long.”
“Be easy, Mama.”
His smile was gentle, for he knew his mother could not meet trouble with resolution. She had always relied on her husband’s support; now that he needed hers, she scarcely knew how to meet the challenge, and had thankfully passed it on to her family. They had all been hastily summoned from their various domiciles at the onset of Lord Aldwyn’s illness. Julian had come reluctantly, knowing that the alarm might well be a false one; but he soon saw that the matter was serious. Lord Aldwyn had suffered a seizure from which, the physician said, recovery would be slow.
“He seemed tolerably comfortable when I left him,” Julian went on, “and I understand Gillingham is to look in later.”
“And you know, Mama, Dr. Gillingham may be relied on completely,” put in Jane Hyde, Julian’s elder sister. “I have never forgotten how he pulled my dear little Timmy through the chicken pox. The worst case he had ever seen, so he said, and not a pin to be placed between any of the spots, and Nurse quite at her wit
s end how to comfort the poor lamb, for you know how active he always is, and certainly not a child to take kindly to being kept in bed! Of course, I did feel at the time that perhaps Dr. Gillingham was too severe with my darling, but his papa made me see that at least Timmy would stay quiet for the doctor. And I am sure, dearest Mama, that if we all think hopeful thoughts about poor dear Papa’s recovery, it will make all the difference, for such things have a stronger influence than perhaps we are aware of, you know.”
She paused for breath, a respite for which Julian and his other sister, Almeria, were thankful. Jane Hyde was a pretty woman with soft blond hair, pink cheeks, and blue eyes, but somehow she always contrived to look insipid. Instead of the alert intelligence that animated the faces of her younger brother and sister, she had a certain vacuity of expression. She was thirty years of age and had been married for the past ten years to Fabian Hyde, a squire in another part of the county. So far, she had presented her husband with three children. Julian had once found darling Timmy, the eldest, playing with his razors, and, exasperated, had remarked to his sister Almeria that he trusted Jane would foist no more of her brats upon her long-suffering relatives, as the youngest of her progeny was now six years old.
Lady Aldwyn, however, seemed much comforted by her daughter’s remarks. She was the only member of the family not to find Jane a bore. Indeed, they were very much alike: kind-hearted, clinging females occupied with the trivia of domestic life, which they were prone to make the sole subject of their conversation. Predictably, Jane began to speak of her children again as soon as the soup had been served.
“I’m so very thankful that dear Papa is on the mend at last, for my darlings will be missing me, and I do not altogether trust Nurse to keep them out of mischief. They are so high spirited! But of course healthy children should be so, shouldn’t they, Mama?”
“Very true, my dear,” replied her mother.
“If only I could have brought them here!” said Jane, not for the first time. “They would have cheered up their grandpapa prodigiously! But dear Fabian thought it better to wait awhile, until Papa was truly on the mend, which I do think he is, at last.”
Julian and Almeria, an attractive, lively young woman with black curls, exchanged surreptitious glances of comical dismay.
“I think perhaps I may safely promise to return to Nemphett in a day or two,” Jane continued. “Do you not agree? I may see dear Papa tomorrow, so Dr. Gillingham said, and after that he will go on splendidly, just you wait and see. Of course, it was only natural that he should wish to see Julian first,” she added with a touch of pique.
Almeria intercepted another of Julian’s cynical glances and almost choked over her soup.
“Oh, take care, my dear!” said Lady Aldwyn solicitously. “Is it too hot? Smithers, a glass of water, please, for Lady Barrington.”
The footman brought the water, and after some pressure from her mother, Almeria reluctantly took a few sips.
“That was your fault!” she whispered to her brother after the meal, when they were able to snatch a few moments of private conversation.
“Well, if it isn’t enough to turn anyone’s stomach!” he retorted. “Jane’s become worse, if anything. I realise I’ve seen little of her since I joined the Army, and she never was the brightest of females, but I don’t recollect her ever being quite such a dead bore.”
“It’s the petrifying effect of domesticity,” replied Lady Barrington, her green eyes dancing. “No doubt you observe the same ravages in myself, only you’re too civil to remark on it.”
“When have you ever known me trouble myself to be civil to you?” he asked with a grin.
“Whenever you wished something from me,” she answered in the same spirit. “But tell me, why did Papa insist on seeing you tonight? Jane didn’t like it above half, for it had been settled we were none of us to visit him until tomorrow, except of course Mama.”
“He had some maggot in his head that what he had to say wouldn’t wait for tomorrow.”
“Well? Don’t be so provoking! What was it?”
“He wished to urge me to lose no time in marrying and providing an heir for the estate.”
“And how did you feel about that?” she asked, eyeing him warily.
He drew a snuffbox from his pocket and inhaled a pinch before replying.
“I dare say you were tempted to tell him to mind his own business,” she prompted, “but I know you would not, just at present.”
“I don’t believe I was even tempted,” he said slowly. “After all, the succession is his business. Moreover, I’ve been thinking along much the same lines myself lately.”
“Have you? And I thought — everyone else, too, for that matter — that you were a confirmed bachelor! Who is the lady? Do I know her?”
“How like a female to jump to conclusions! Because I’ve been considering that perhaps it is time I settled down, does not necessarily mean that I’ve already selected a suitable partner.”
“Well, it usually does,” replied Almeria defensively. “And since you’ve been in London ever since you sold out of the army, it seemed quite likely that you could have met some eligible female there. I can’t help but know, of course, that there have been countless ineligible females in your life.”
“Can’t you, indeed? I should wonder you will be so barefaced as to admit it, but you always were a shameless baggage!”
“Oh, come, Julian, I’m an old married woman! Besides, such things get noised abroad.”
“I suppose they do. Much I care for that. And I’d scarcely describe you as an old married woman at five and twenty.”
“All the same, I’ve been married to Giles for five years, and I can thoroughly recommend the state. I think it excellent that you should be considering wedlock at last. Perhaps I may be able to introduce you to someone of my acquaintance; there are scores of pretty girls in Bath.”
“There are scores of pretty girls in London too. I’ve had a whole season in which to observe them, and I saw none to my taste,” replied her brother. “They’re empty-headed creatures, who wish to be constantly flattered and courted, and think of nothing but balls and parties.”
“Well, what do you expect? They go to town to come out into polite society and to find themselves suitable husbands. Of course they appear empty-headed and given over to gaiety. But once they are married, be sure they will settle down to make excellent wives,” retorted Almeria with spirit. “Why, I myself was no end of a flirt during my London season, but it didn’t stop Giles from falling in love with me! I tell you what it is — you haven’t yet met the right girl, my dear brother. When you do, you won’t speak in that patronising fashion!”
“I have no expectation of meeting the right girl, if by that you mean falling in love,” he replied soberly. “Once was more than enough.”
“Oh, Julian!” She drew in her breath sharply, her eyes troubled. “Dearest, you can’t mean that you still wear the willow for Celia Haldane? Why, that happened all of eight years ago; you were barely twenty at the time. By now you must realise how worthless a creature she was!”
“My disillusionment is complete.” His expression was grim. “I most certainly do not cherish any tender feelings toward her, make yourself easy on that score. But the memory of making a most thorough-going fool of myself over a worthless female preserves me from any inclination to make a further trial of falling head over ears in love. No, Almeria, what I intend now is to find a sensible woman, perhaps not in her first youth. A young romantic female would expect ardent courtship, and that would be tedious.”
“Well, I declare! What a cold fish you are become!”
“Quiz me if you wish, my dear, but all I require in a wife is that she shall be presentable and of amiable disposition. And, too, she must be fitted to take her place one day as mistress of Aldwyn Court. Of course, once the succession is assured, we may each agree to go our own ways. I think such a match would answer very well.”
Almeria made a wry face. �
��Oh, prodigiously! I believe you must look for a candidate at one of the Employment Registry Offices. She sounds more like a good housekeeper than a wife!”
He tried not to laugh, only half succeeding. “You must admit, Almeria, that scores of marriages are made simply for convenience. And it occasionally happens that a quite pleasing female has been left by some accident on the shelf. Such a one might be very ready to settle for what I can offer.”
“Julian!” Almeria’s eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. “Do you know, you are quite right about that? Indeed, I can tell you the very person who fits your description!”
“Can you indeed? And who may she be?”
“Why, Henrietta Melville! She is everything that you could wish — and far more than you deserve, you odious wretch!”
“Henrietta Melville.” He repeated the name, frowning in an effort to remember the woman. “I recall that she was always an intimate friend of yours. In fact, did you not both attend the same seminary in Bath? I must admit that I can’t remember her in the slightest. Never had much to do with that family, myself, even though Nick Melville and I were at Winchester at the same time. Isn’t he come into the title and settled at Westhyde Manor? I believe Mother mentioned in one of her letters that old Melville died last year.”
“Yes, that is so. Sir Nicholas brought his wife and family to live at the manor about eight months since, I believe. That’s what makes Henrietta’s situation so odiously disagreeable! She had been mistress there ever since her mother died seven years ago, and now she’s obliged to give place to her sister-in-law, who by all accounts is a most difficult woman. Even Henrietta admits to me that she’s no longer quite comfortable at home.”
“How is it that Miss Melville remains single, since she’s well past an age for marriage? Is she an antidote?”
“No such thing!” retorted his sister indignantly. “She’s a charming creature, as you’ll readily see when I make you known to her. She’s simply been somewhat unfortunate in her circumstances.”
“As long as that hasn’t turned her into one of these plaintive, whining females —”
A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine Page 1
