There was a momentary pause, then she worked it out. “You?”
“We were betrothed last month. It was in all the newspapers.”
Ginny stared at him, her face troubled. “I never read the newspapers. But then… she thought you were the duke. You thought Ger was dead and you were the duke, so you took on the bride that should have been Jon’s and she agreed to it. An arranged marriage.”
That shot straight to the heart of the matter. Ginny was too perceptive by half.
“It does not necessarily follow that an arranged marriage must be unwelcome,” Ran said, warily. Even to his brother, he hesitated to say too much.
“No, but… she was supposed to marry a duke and now she gets you instead, and she might be upset not to be a duchess after all. Or she might not like you as well as Jon… Gervase.”
“We are betrothed,” Ran said again. “That is a promise almost as binding as marriage. We are to be married in three weeks. Ruth will not cry off.”
He spoke the words with assurance, but underneath he quailed. He could not honourably withdraw, but Ruth certainly could, and the change in his rank would be all the explanation the world would need. All he could do was to cling to the hope that Ruth’s sense of honour was as great as his own.
14: The Ways Of Nobles
It took five days for all the aunts, uncles and cousins to be persuaded that they would be better entertained elsewhere. They were provided with every comfort, and a splendid dinner each night, but the only amusement was such as they could contrive for themselves, since Ger and the interesting Miss Chandry stayed resolutely out of sight.
Ran recruited his sisters to the Herculean task of ridding Valmont of its unwanted guests. Henrietta, Alice, Elizabeth and Georgiana were perfectly willing to oblige him, and with the aid of the London newspapers and letters from friends, gradually convinced the lingerers of the delights of the season that were passing them by. At first, the party atmosphere prevailed, but it was not long before the lack of sport began to bear down on the gentlemen, the flow of family news dwindled amongst the ladies and the long-standing feud between two regal dowagers, usually maintained by icily polite insults, flared into open warfare. By the third day, the State Banqueting Room had been closed up in favour of the Dining Room, holding a mere forty covers, and finally to the Buttery, with its limit of four and twenty. Eventually the day came when the last carriage was waved off. Only Elizabeth remained, as well as Uncle Arthur and Aunt Anne.
“Will Ger and Miss Chandry dine with us tonight, Ran?” Elizabeth said, as the great entrance doors, two storeys high, closed for the last time. “That would make eight covers only, so long as you do not object to my presence, but my cook does not arrive until next week and Mary Bucknell not until the week after. However, I shall eat cold boiled mutton and cheese in my own house, if you prefer it.”
Ran laughed. “You are welcome to eat your mutton with us — hot, I hope! — every day, if you wish it, and Mary too.”
“Oh no, I shall not inflict myself on you more than once or twice a week. Sunday would suit me, so that my cook may have an easier day, and perhaps Wednesdays, but otherwise I shall not trouble you, for I do not mean to be a charge upon Valmont. I am very grateful for my little lodge house, but I shall keep my own cook and stable my own horses and carriage.”
They had reached the Royal Withdrawing Room, and she seemed to want to talk, so he ushered her inside. “You are never a trouble, sister. As to your first question, I cannot answer for Ger or Ginny.”
“I hope they will emerge from hiding soon, for I have a great wish to get to know Miss Chandry better. I take it she is not just a passing visitor?”
“No, she will make her home here… or nearby, at any event.”
“Ah,” Elizabeth said pensively. “That is as I thought. What sort of man was her father?”
“A gentleman, although he also acted as estate manager for a shipowner. From what I have gleaned, the family is not so well off as it once was, but they are well-regarded in the county.”
“Respectable?”
Ran thought of the bastards supposedly set at Patrick Chandry’s door, and hesitated momentarily. He had taken care of his by-blows, however, so even if he had been a libertine, he was not dishonourable. “A bit ramshackle,” he said eventually, “but respectable, yes.”
“Could she conceivably be moulded into a duchess?”
“She has no wish to be a duchess,” Ran said.
“I wonder why. Most women would jump at it. And I note that you only speak of her wish. Ger is perfectly capable of deciding to marry such a woman on a whim.”
“It would not be a whim.”
“Perhaps not, but I wonder sometimes if Ger truly knows what is due to the honour of this family. He has always shied away from his obligations, Ran. He says he will do it, like agreeing to marry Lady Ruth, but when it came to the sticking point, he jibbed at it and fled to America.”
“That was not—”
“Oh, I know. Not the only reason. But then he stayed away, even when it was obvious… Ah well, at least he is here now, but I am still not clear on whether he will fulfil his obligations. Will he take his seat this session?”
“I believe not.”
“There you are, then. You would have done so. You understand your duty, and have behaved just as you ought. But Ger cannot be depended on in the least, and now this Miss Chandry complicates matters considerably. If he will not marry her, then we shall just have to make sure that he appreciates what he must do and will resume his betrothal to Lady Ruth as soon as may be. Her father will be compliant, I am sure. He will prefer his daughter to be the Duchess of Falconbury rather than Lady Randolph. I am sorry for it for your sake, for it would have been a good match for you, but I imagine you will not have much choice in the matter. You will need to look a little lower for a wife now, but you will not have the slightest difficulty there. You are not as lively as Ger can be, but a steady man makes a better husband. Well, I shall go and tell Mrs Newall that we may be eight for dinner.”
She bustled out, leaving Ran quivering with fear. He could almost feel Ruth drifting slowly but inexorably away from him.
~~~~~
Ran was up early the following morning to write some brief personal letters. There were always personal letters to be written. He had a great many friends, and many of them had heard of Ger’s return, and had sent congratulations or anxious enquiries, according to their temperaments. Two or three also asked in roundabout ways whether his engagement was now at an end. No one was crass enough to say it directly, merely asking vaguely whether the wedding would be affected and how had his betrothed taken the news and wondering what Ger thought of his engagement. His reply was always the same. ‘I have no additional news of my own wedding plans.’
As always when he thought of Ruth, a ripple of anxiety ran through him. It had been so wonderful — too wonderful, of course. How could he ever aspire to marry a woman as perfect as Ruth? No, not perfect, for no one was perfect. What were her faults? He considered for some time before he could find one, for her virtues were many. She was so composed, so ladylike. Her manners were flawless, and she moved in any company with well-bred ease, yet without condescension. There was no undue pride or hauteur, indeed she was modest in demeanour. Her clothes were elegant without ostentation. She was accomplished beyond the common meaning of that word — her music, her painting, her embroidery! Her mind was improved. She rode well and danced well. Her temper was even, with a charming sweetness. And she was beautiful! Those lovely grey eyes, and her hair — not quite golden, but pale brown like sun-bleached wood.
He could not suppress a smile as he thought of her. But a fault? He decided in the end that she had little sensibility. Not that she was unfeeling, for she was considerate. Once when she had visited — she must have been about fifteen or so — one of the horses grew lame, and she gave up her own so that a cousin might ride instead. And later, when a different horse fell and broke a leg, she had crie
d and cried, sobbing her heart out. Ger had hugged her until the tears stopped, and then let her win five times at cribbage.
It seemed churlish to praise her composure and modesty, and yet also to wish that she could be a little more communicative, but so it was. If she had feelings or opinions on a subject, it would not be improper for her to express them, and yet she never did. When he had sat beside her at the Mallowfleet dining table and asked which dish she would like him to serve her, she invariably chose the nearest. When he had taken her into the Valmont stables and enquired which horse she would like to ride, she had asked him to choose one for her. And when he had asked if she were being pressured to marry him, she had turned the question back at him. Even now, he had no idea what was in her mind… or her heart.
Pointless to wonder about it, he supposed. When he went to London, he would talk to her father and learn his mind. Perhaps they could still come to some accommodation. The engagement had been puffed off in all the newspapers, everyone had been informed, the date had been set. The duke’s sense of honour might overcome his ambition, and he had three other daughters, after all. And then… Ran would either marry Ruth or he would not, and that was all there was to it. In another week or ten days, he would make the journey to town and then he would know his fate.
He finished his letters in sombre mood, then dressed and sat down in the shared sitting room to eat an early breakfast. There was no sign of Ger, but before too long the connecting door opened and Ginny’s face peered round it.
“May I come in? Please do not be polite, for if you had sooner be alone, I shall not mind a bit. Jon is always cross in the mornings, just until he wakes up properly, so I quite understand.”
“Do come in, and have some breakfast with me. I am never cross in the mornings, but then I wilt if the evening goes on too long. Ger and I are opposites in that, as in much else.”
She slipped into the room, shutting the door quietly. Her round gown of plain cotton was unassuming and she wore her hair in a simple knot, but there was a certain dignity to her bearing that Ran rather liked. On their journey from Cornwall, he had thought her a provincial nobody, but she had not been overwhelmed by the grandeur of Valmont, or the combined majesty of the Litherholm family in all its fashionable, expensive glory. She had, by some feminine art, persuaded Ger to show himself on that first night, and if he had been as nervous as a girl, Ginny had displayed a becoming decorum. Whatever her origins, she was not out of place at Valmont.
And yet, her position was quite untenable.
“Is Ger still sleeping?”
She laughed. “Oh yes! He kept me up half the night, talking. He enjoyed himself eventually last night, I think.” She sat down opposite him, quite unselfconscious, and began helping herself from the various dishes as he poured her coffee. “He took five hundred pounds off your uncle at piquet, in the end. I think you had gone to bed before Lord Arthur finally admitted defeat. And then he played whist with Captain Edgerton, Mr Lorrimer and my brother. He won two hundred pounds there. He was as merry as a grig, I can tell you.”
“He has always been at his best in intimate gatherings, where everyone is well-known to him. The addition of Captain Edgerton and your brother was well done, I think. They are both lively, entertaining company.”
“That is what I thought — useful to take the attention away from Jon. I mean Gervase. I shall have to get used to his real name, I suppose.”
“So it was your idea to include them? Then you have my thanks. You have a deft hand with these situations, and you have learnt quickly what he can cope with comfortably and what will be a trial to him.”
“Well, he talks to me, you see,” she said simply. “He tells me everything that is in his heart and so I can suggest ways to make him easier. It does surprise me that he is so averse to large crowds. I never noticed it at home… although he tended to sit in a corner, avoiding attention. That is what he dislikes so, being stared at.”
“I think that was Father’s fault. Ger was the heir, so he was produced for inspection, as it were, whenever Father entertained, even as a boy.”
“And you were not?”
“Not until I was older. But you can imagine the effect on a shy boy of six or seven to be brought into a room full of men of power, and all of them looking at him, asking him questions he could not answer, judging him. Even when I was permitted to accompany him, no one ever took any notice of me. It was all Ger. As he grew up, he became adept at finding ways to avoid such encounters. The fewer people he has to deal with, the better he gets on.”
“Poor little boys!” she said, unexpectedly. “The one overwhelmed with attention and the other ignored. I am not sure which is worse.”
“I cannot say,” he said. “Ginny… may I speak frankly to you? Your position here is… awkward, to make no bones about it. When I first met you, I thought you would find the adjustment to the Valmont way of life difficult — perhaps impossible. But it is not so. You are not rattled by anything, are you? It seems to me that, even though you have not been brought up to it, you would make an excellent duchess.”
She chortled merrily. “Oh no, no, no! Don’t you start! I’m not going to marry him, not for anything. I could never be comfortable with a fancy title.”
“You would grow accustomed.”
She looked at him sorrowfully. “You don’t understand. It is not just that I wouldn’t fit in to your world, I don’t want to fit in. To me, the peerage is an abomination. What purpose does it serve?”
“Someone has to rule, to make the laws and ensure that they are obeyed, or there would be chaos. Someone has to collect the taxes to maintain our army and navy, and protect us from the French. The few are needed to guide the country so that the many may grow their crops and make their goods and raise their families in peace and plenty.”
“And how is it right for those few people to claim the right to rule over everyone else, to have vast wealth, to do nothing useful with their lives, to be so pampered they can’t even dress themselves — and all because they were born to one family rather than another? The many work from dawn to dusk so that the few may sit about as idle parasites.”
“You think we do no work, is that it?”
“Unless you count inspecting the stables and changing your clothes five times a day as work,” she said, laughing merrily.
“Then finish your coffee, and let me show you what this particular idle parasite does with his useless, pampered life.”
“Jon — Gervase — will wonder where I am.”
“Ah, let me show you our secret message board.” He crossed the room to where a nondescript mirror hung by a chain from a single nail. Flipping it over, it became a chalk board. He rummaged in a drawer for chalks. ‘Taken Ginny to see the offices. R.’
“Clever,” she said, setting down her coffee cup and rising from her chair. “Lead on, Ran.”
He took her down one floor to his formal office, all mirrors, polished wood, painted ceilings and gilded majesty. The massive desk dominated the room. “This is where I sign contracts and legal documents. On Lady Day, the tenants come here to pay their rent. They come in through the front door, up the Grand Staircase, through the State Apartments to here, where I greet them affably, take their money and offer them a small glass of sherry and a ratafia biscuit. They seem to like it. But this is not where the real work is done.”
He led her down again to the mezzanine floor. “The offices. The domestic offices are on the ground floor, but this is where the estate is managed.”
He threw open the door to the under-secretaries’ room, where four faces looked up, four men jumped to their feet. Ran introduced each one to Ginny, and they bowed politely. Then it was on to the steward’s office, with Gurney and his assistant, the Comptroller’s office, with its two large safes, and finally the attorneys’ office. As they left, Ginny pointed to the brass name-plates on the door.
“So many Honourables. What does that mean?”
“An Honourable is the son of a
nobleman.”
Ginny frowned. “Are there not men of lower rank just as fitted to be secretaries and attorneys?”
“Younger sons are obliged to make their own way in the world,” Ran said with a rueful smile, “or make themselves useful in other ways. But also, the sons of the nobility are less likely to stutter and stumble if they should happen to meet a marquess or two roaming the corridors.”
“And these people are all here to manage Valmont?”
“And its many holdings — land and other property, principally, but there are businesses, too. Mines, manufactories, mills and so on. We have managers for those, and bailiffs and gamekeepers for the land. The offices here are just a small part of it. Oh, and we have some very grand London lawyers who draw up all the significant estate papers — wills, marriage settlements, that sort of thing. Markham, Willerton-Forbes and Browning.”
“Is that the Mr Willerton-Forbes?”
“No, Sir Rathbone Willerton-Forbes is the family lawyer. Mr Pettigrew Willerton-Forbes is his nephew, and was not known to me before he became entangled with the Benefactor.”
She chuckled suddenly. “Oh, that explains something that puzzled me greatly at the time. When Mr Willerton-Forbes first came to Pendower, Jon was terrified at the very name, but of course he thought the family lawyers had found him out. And then he discovered that he was to receive a thousand pounds from the Benefactor instead, and he was so relieved. How funny!”
They had come to the final room, somewhat larger than the rest. Here two identical deal tables sat facing each other, and Max Lorrimer was hard at work at one of them, head bent over a sheet of paper, writing swiftly. He looked up with a smile, which slipped a little when he saw Ginny, but he rose politely, and bowed to her.
“Max, I am trying to prove to Miss Chandry that I am not the idle good-for-nothing she believes me to be. Would you be so good as to tell her of my schedule for the day?”
“Of course, my lord,” he said politely, but without warmth. “Letters first, six personal and three and twenty related to estate business. Mr Vine will be here at ten to discuss the woodcock problems, then Mr Downer about the drainage in the Upper Shallowford fields. At eleven, Mr Morrell wishes you to review the new leases for Brackbury. If you have time, Sir Henry would like you to look over the accounts, but you must be down at the stables by noon sharp to ride out to Claverley Mill. The insurance man will meet you there. I told Mr Peckham that you might call in on your way home, but that you might not have time without making yourself late for dinner.”
The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6) Page 15
