A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  “Good day, Miss Melville. They told me at the house that you might be expected back from the village at any moment, so I thought I would stroll along to meet you. I rode over to see your brother, but it appears he’s driven out this morning.”

  “Oh, yes, what a pity! Did you wish to see him particularly?”

  “No, not at all, I simply came on the off chance of finding him at home. So you’ve been walking this morning instead of riding?”

  “Yes, I’ve been taking comforts for some of our needy and ailing cottagers. It’s a melancholy business, though. There’s so little one can do for them.”

  He nodded. “The wars have brought about a depression in agriculture as in all else, I fear. Even on my father’s estate I find a deal that needs doing, from buildings in disrepair to deeper problems not so easy to remedy. But I must not weary you with such matters.”

  They had now reached the house and he paused, as though about to take his leave of her.

  “They don’t weary me,” replied Henrietta. “When my father was alive, he often consulted me on the management of our land — though, of course, our holdings are small compared with those of your family. But will you not come in and take refreshment? I dare say my brother will be back from Trowbridge shortly, and he would not like to miss you.”

  He accepted the offer, and soon they were comfortably seated together before a bright log fire in the morning room, a small parlour on the ground floor. A servant brought in coffee for Henrietta and some wine for her guest.

  “I’ve been giving some consideration, for instance, to the management of the farms on our land,” said Aldwyn. “Our tenants, even those with the greatest acreage, seem still to be working their holdings by the old methods. Can you credit that the majority do not make use of the seed drill for sowing? Why, it was invented close on a hundred years since. Culture in rows, as it is with this device, means that they can use horses for hoeing, at vast savings of time and labour. I name only one example; there are many more.”

  “I see you’re bent on emulating His Majesty King George,” replied Henrietta, smiling. “They call him Farmer George, do they not?”

  He laughed. “You do well to quiz me for prosing on with such stuff, ma’am! You must be wishing me at the devil.”

  She bent toward him earnestly. “No such thing. My father used to speak to me of like matters, and I miss hearing of them. Pray continue, sir.”

  He took her at her word, for he believed her to be a sincere woman. “The thing is, Miss Melville, for so long I’ve been used to an active life, campaigning in the Peninsula, that I cannot settle to idleness. Oh, the social diversions and sporting pursuits in London are well enough in their way, but they cannot altogether satisfy me. And since it’s plain that my father can no longer hold the reins at Aldwyn Court, the time has come for me to take over from him. I have much still to learn, but I believe that the life of a country landowner would suit me beyond anything.”

  He paused for a moment, and she nodded in understanding.

  “Have you ever heard of Coke of Norfolk?” he asked suddenly.

  Henrietta considered for a moment.

  “Why, yes, I’ve heard Papa mention the name,” she said at last. “He’s the owner of a great estate at Holkham, is he not? And — I think I am right — hasn’t he carried out so many improvements there that others go every year to study his methods?”

  He gave her a look of warm approval. “Excellent female! No, do not blush. Who else of your sex would have known that? But so it is: Thomas Coke has so transformed farming methods on the Holkham estate that his tenants have become the most prosperous in England. That is what I would like to achieve, ma’am, a prosperity shared by all who live on my land. The first thing I mean to do is to go to Holkham, to one of Coke’s sheep shearings, as they call his annual gatherings. I’m told he does it handsomely, with five hundred guests to dinner each day!”

  Henrietta gasped.

  “I dare say,” he laughed, “it takes one’s breath away. But dinners are the least of benefits to be found there! The meetings, lasting four days, are for discussions, demonstrations, tours of different areas of the estate, examples of various farming methods, and so on. Agriculturists and men of science come from all over the country, even from as far away as America.”

  During this speech his dark eyes kindled with enthusiasm, completely banishing the cynical look that he most often wore. Henrietta was moved, answered with the glow in her own eyes.

  “It’s plain to see that this scheme has fired your imagination, Mr. Aldwyn. You are fortunate, for few people ever find their true vocation in life, I think. I wish you every success, most sincerely.”

  He leaned over in his chair toward her, a piercing, serious expression replacing the former, more buoyant one. “And will you not help me to achieve it, Miss Melville? I cannot do all this alone. A man needs to have a worthy helpmate at his side, to rejoice in his successes and console him in failure. You could be such a helpmate, I know. Will you be one to me?”

  Her limbs suddenly felt weak. “I — I am not — quite sure what you mean, sir,” she stammered awkwardly.

  He took one of her hands. “Why, I’d have thought it was plain enough,” he said with a smile, which caused her to lower her gaze. “I’m asking you to do me the honour of becoming my wife, Miss Melville.”

  There was a deep silence in the room. Henrietta felt as if she had suddenly taken a headlong plunge over dangerous rapids in a paper boat.

  She struggled resolutely for the mastery of her feelings. Astounding as his declaration was, it had not escaped her notice how calmly and unemotionally it had been made. Pride required that she should govern herself sufficiently to answer him in the same manner. And, dear God, she must not make the wrong answer! A mistake now would lead to a lifetime of regret; she must be quite, quite sure.

  She drew her hand gently away and forced herself to meet his eyes with a challenging look. “Why?”

  He gave a slight start, then, raising his quizzing glass in a defensive gesture, surveyed her for a second with a puzzled air before letting the glass drop.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Melville?”

  “Why do you wish to marry me?”

  “I hoped that I had made the matter plain just now when I referred to you as a worthy helpmate. I believe we should suit admirably. I admire and respect you —”

  “Admire and respect.” she echoed mockingly. “Meaningless words, Mr. Aldwyn. You cannot pretend that you — are in love with me.”

  He studied her again for a moment without speaking. Damn the female. Was she then expecting an impassioned declaration? This was more than he had bargained for; she must realise that this was a business arrangement, to be of mutual benefit.

  “Can I not?” he temporized.

  She darted him a scornful look. “I know quite well I am not in your style!”

  Well, that was true enough in a way, he acknowledged, looking at her dowdy grey walking gown and prim cap. He would certainly prefer a bride who took more pains with her appearance.

  “Indeed? And how, may I ask, do you know my style? We have not been acquainted for so very long.”

  She coloured under his critical survey. “Oh, there have been rumours. And even if my acquaintance with you is recent, I have known your family since childhood, after all. Why, Almeria has spoken of you often, and given me to understand that — that —” She faltered and broke off.

  He nodded. “That might account for it. I scarcely supposed that a well-bred female such as yourself would be likely to give attention to idle gossip.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure.” She laughed uneasily. “Even well-bred females must have a little entertainment now and then.”

  “Yes, my sister told me you were possessed of a quirky sense of humour. So, I must confess, am I. That is surely one way in which we may be considered to suit?”

  “Oh, yes, but —” She broke off, for a moment losing the words in which to express her feeli
ngs. Then, after a pause, she went on with more assurance. “You know very well that there is more to marriage than laughter, sir. Even admiration and respect will not do. There must be stronger feelings, a more emotional involvement.”

  “You are speaking of a romantic attachment?” he asked, with a slight sneer in his tone. “A headlong, neck or nothing passion? I should have supposed, ma’am, that by now you might have realised, as I do, that such transports are only for the very young. At a more mature time of life, one comes to value an attachment based on more solid qualities, such as those you have just scornfully repudiated.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said, with lips quivering on the brink of a smile, “you sound just like Mr. Claydon.”

  “Mr. Claydon?” For a moment, the name did not mean anything to him.

  “The vicar. I think you two may have a vast deal in common, though you do not realise it. He, too, professes that admiration and respect alone will make for a happy marriage.”

  “You are doubtless quoting from one of the reverend gentleman’s sermons?”

  “Well, no. As a matter of fact, he said so to me in a private conversation of — of an intimate nature.”

  He started. “Do I understand you to mean that he has made you an offer of marriage?”

  She nodded. “Yes, indeed. It was some months since. He is a widower with two young children, and I’m good with children, you see. So he decided I would make a suitable wife and that marriage would not be unwelcome to me because —” she broke off, slightly embarrassed for a moment, but then continued stalwartly — “because now that I am no longer mistress of the house I have managed for more than seven years, my situation at home has become a trifle awkward.”

  He nodded sympathetically, although he could not help feeling guilty that his reasons for making an offer to Miss Melville were so like those of Mr. Claydon.

  “I’m afraid my brother’s wife was not best pleased when I refused the vicar. Not so much Nicholas; he’s easy-going enough on his own account. But Selina has been very short with me since. She hoped to be rid of me. I can scarce blame her, I suppose. It cannot be agreeable to be burdened with a relative whom the servants still look upon as mistress of the establishment.”

  “You are more tolerant than many would be in your situation, ma’am. It’s perhaps fortunate, then, that I did not first apprise your brother of my intentions.”

  “Oh, that would have been carrying propriety too far!”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Well, I never expected to be reproached with that, at all events! But seriously, Miss Melville, will you not think over this matter awhile before rejecting my proposal? I hope I am no coxcomb, but I can offer you more than the vicar — in worldly goods, at least. Though doubtless he is a worthier man than I.”

  “Oh, much!” she replied irrepressibly. “As one might expect, his reputation is spotless.”

  He raised his brows ironically. “And mine is not? Well, I don’t intend to offer you false coin, ma’am, so I won’t deny the imputation. Nevertheless, I can assure you that you would have nothing to complain of in that way after our marriage. And it does seem to me that marriage would be the best solution of your present difficulties. An establishment of your own —”

  She flung up her hands. “Don’t suppose I haven’t already told myself the self-same thing! But it’s no good, don’t you see? I can’t accept the price.”

  “Really, ma’am, you have the most effective way of depressing one’s pretensions. I was used to consider myself a tolerably acceptable fellow.”

  “Oh, but you are, you are!” she said earnestly.

  He bowed. “Thank you. But I am somewhat uneasily reassured, ma’am, for I have a presentiment that you’re soon to add a rider that will completely detract from the pleasant impression of your remark.”

  “You see how it is,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “Already you begin to discover the less endearing side of my disposition.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve discovered nothing yet which does not lead me to suppose that we shall deal extremely well together. I find you amiable, unselfish, tolerant, capable…”

  “Pray stop, sir! Such a catalogue of virtues makes me sound the dreariest, prosiest creature alive.”

  “I wish you will ever let me finish what I’m saying,” he complained. “Since you will not allow that admiration and respect are suitable enough for you, I must do my poor best to find others in your praise. Tell me, what terms would you suggest?”

  “You might say that my beauty maddens you,” she replied in a mocking tone that held a hint of underlying wistfulness.

  The laughter went out of his eyes. “If you desire me to talk in such an extravagant style, I fear you’re doomed to disappointment, Miss Melville.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Pray be serious for a moment, ma’am. Will you not agree to wait a while longer before giving me my answer? Our acquaintance is little more than a fortnight old. Give it another few weeks, a month or so, whatever you wish. Perhaps I’ve rushed my fences in speaking to you now.”

  She shook her head sadly. “It will not do. I like you very much, sir, and I think you like me, but as I said before, that is not enough. Long ago I decided on what terms I would marry; and just because I am at my last prayers, as the saying goes, I see no good reason to change my mind.”

  “In other words,” he said abruptly, “you are awaiting the onset of a romantic passion?”

  She nodded, colouring a little. He gave her a serious look.

  “Tell me, Miss Melville, have you ever been in love?”

  “No. Though I had few opportunities…” She broke off, obviously embarrassed. He said nothing for a moment, staring into space almost as if he had forgotten her.

  “You have never known what it is to be in love, ma’am, but I have.” His mouth took on a grim line. “Let me assure you that it is a most unenviable state, a form of torture beside which the rack and the thumbscrew are mere child’s play.”

  “Oh, but that is only when one loves in vain. What of the many instances of love affairs ending in happy marriage?”

  He smiled bleakly. “I see you are an optimist. For my own part, I believe a marriage in which there is mutual esteem and respect has more chance of bringing true felicity to the partners than any impassioned transports, which, plunging one from Heaven to Hell, usually end in total disillusionment.”

  Her eyes softened. “You have been unfortunate, sir. I have heard something of that from your sister. Pardon me if I tread on delicate ground, but that was all a long time ago. Surely you do not still —?”

  “Of course not,” he replied brusquely. “As you say, a long time ago, and almost forgotten. It has, however, successfully deterred me from further expeditions of foolishness. I seek now to settle down with an amiable, sensible woman, who will be content with what I can offer, and not expect a courtship in the first flight of romance.”

  “And you naturally thought I was such a woman,” she mused. “I am nearly six and twenty, still a spinster, neither beautiful nor even especially talented.”

  “You do yourself less than justice, ma’am. And, incidentally, you make my offer sound an unpardonable insult.”

  His tone was stiff, so impulsively, she leaned forward and let her hand rest lightly on his arm for a moment.

  “No such thing. Pray don’t suppose that I intended any reproach. I was merely reflecting that this is the way in which others must see me, and the notion came as something of a shock. Because, you know, one never realises how much one has changed with the years. We carry an inward image of ourselves, I think, which remains forever the same.”

  “That’s true enough,” he agreed. “It’s said that inside every old man there’s still a young lad. But all this is nonsense as far as you’re concerned, ma’am. Why, you are pretty well three years my junior, and I hope I am not yet come to the sere and yellow!”

  “Ah, but gentlemen are different,” she insisted. “At my age,
a female who is still unmarried is considered to be on the shelf. But I do wonder,” she continued, half to herself, “what kind of person I really am? For so many years I’ve tried to be what others expected and needed me to be: my father, my sisters and brother, the household. There was never time nor opportunity to discover what I wanted for myself — even whether I am truly the sensible female everyone considers me.”

  “Only accept my offer of marriage, Miss Melville,” he said gently, “and you will be afforded such an opportunity.”

  She shook her head decisively. “No. Pardon me if I speak too plainly, but that would be merely to exchange one set of duties for another. It may turn out in the end that this is what I do want, for after all’s said, there are those who cannot find fulfilment unless they are necessary to someone else. But I should like to have my freedom for the time being, at least to try another way, to discover myself. Does that sound too fanciful? For some time now I have been forming the intention of going away from the manor for that very purpose. Your declaration has served to fortify my purpose, but I am sorry if your disappointment in my answer is too severe.”

  “That of course, though I have not entirely abandoned hope that you may change your mind. Nevertheless, I understand and sympathise with your feelings. Perhaps you are right in wishing to put them to the test. May I ask where you intend to go? To London, possibly, to sample the delights of that society which you would have entered earlier in life had circumstances permitted?”

  “Oh, no!” Her tone was emphatic. “I would cut a sorry figure, I fear, among all those young debutantes! Why, I would most likely be taken for a chaperone, and put to sit with all the gossiping dowagers!”

  He started a civil protest, but she cut him short, smiling.

  “Now, pray don’t feel obliged to flatter me, Mr. Aldwyn! Believe me when I say that I am not fishing for compliments. I think we understand each other very well. No, not London. But I think Bath might answer, don’t you? It’s not so fashionable that I should feel hopelessly outmoded, but I could try my wings a little. Moreover, an opportunity has arisen for me to go there with the full approval of my family. A former friend, who is now a widow and settled in Bath, has invited me to stay with her awhile. You may perhaps have heard Almeria and me speaking of a Mrs. Fordyce on that first day when you called here.”