Teaching His Ward: A Regency Romance

by Noël Cades

  The presence of Kitty’s father restrained the kind of conversation that Kitty and Jemima might have wished to have had. This constraint, plus the ordeal of two hours discussion of botany and horticulture, left both girls fairly loathing the very thought of plants, even before they arrived at Kew.

  The gardens, however, turned out to be a very impressive sight. It was some decades since their redesign by Capability Brown, and they had been much enriched over the years with exotic flora from all over the New World, the East Indies and Australia.

  Lord Elstone was particularly keen to learn about the soil used, and whether he might grow similarly exotic specimens in a new garden he was planning at Elstone Court.

  The party of six wandered through the park, Kitty remarking that she was glad that the ground was not wet, for it would have been ruinous to her gown had it been so.

  Jemima fell into step with Mr Owen as they passed a grove of laurels.

  He made a few polite remarks about the surrounding greenery, then moved to a personal topic. “I understood from my mother that you are betrothed, Miss Carlow,” Mr Owen said.

  “I was, but I am no longer,” Jemima told him.

  Mr Owen was apologetic. “I am very sorry if I have brought up a distressing subject.”

  Jemima smiled, easing his fears. “It is not distressing at all. For there was someone else I greatly preferred, so I am quite happy to have been released from my prior engagement,” she told him.

  Jemima’s use of the past tense when she spoke of the person she preferred, and the lack of any pointed or flirtatious look, signalled to Richard Owen that her affections were directed elsewhere. Had this not been the case, he might have considered furthering his acquaintance with her. Instead, he supposed that he might now focus his own attentions on Miss Elstone, without any fear of slight to Miss Carlow.

  If the naval officer had felt a preference for Jemima, he reasoned it was because he had become acquainted with her first. For both she and Kitty were exceedingly pretty girls. Richard Owen had not given any serious thought to matrimony before, as he was still establishing himself in his career. But it struck him that if and when he inclined to such a state, such a young woman as Catherine Elstone might be an excellent choice.

  With this in mind he took it upon himself to show Kitty some shrub or bush, leaving Jemima with the Earl of Southwell who had just returned from admiring a fern with Lord Elstone and Miss Pargeter. Or rather Marcus had done his best to feign wonder, for he did not in truth share their degree of interest in botanical specimens.

  “The gardens are very beautiful, are they not?” Jemima said. “And far larger than I had imagined they would be.”

  “Was Mr Owen equally impressed by them?” Marcus could not resist asking, having observed his ward’s conversation with that man.

  “I believe so, though we were not speaking of them. I was correcting him as to my matrimonial plans,” Jemima said.

  A muscle clenched in her guardian’s jaw. “Were you?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Jemima had deliberately brought the conversation round to this topic. “I wonder whether you yourself plan to take a wife one day, or whether it is your preference to remain unattached?”

  “I am certainly not opposed to matrimony, should some suitable woman be equally unopposed to such a state with me,” Marcus said.

  “I am sure no woman could be opposed to matrimony with you,” Jemima said.

  Interpreting this statement as mere politeness, Marcus failed to read any deeper meaning into it. “If only that were so,” he remarked.

  Jemima felt a sudden fear. “There is a woman you have in mind, then?”

  “Indeed. But I fear her affections are given elsewhere.”

  Her heart sinking, Jemima tried to conceal her emotion. “I am very sorry for you, then.”

  Marcus had been toying with his ward, almost on the point of telling her the truth. But the sudden distress in her eyes alarmed him. He took it for pity, which was the last thing he wanted from her. It prevented him once again from revealing his suit. Resigned, he adopted a more avuncular tone.

  “Do not concern yourself on my behalf, my dear. I am long past the years of swooning and writing mournful verses, unlike the younger men of your acquaintance,” Marcus said.

  His implication was that if she sought romance, she should seek it elsewhere than him, Jemima thought. Feeling utterly dejected, she hardly knew how she would bear the rest of the day or the long carriage ride back to London.

  "You are not so very old," she said, Jemima intended to relieve his melancholy by this remark, but only deepened it. For to be told that you are "not so very old" by the object of your affection is to be made to feel more ancient than ever.

  "I am twice your age, at least," Marcus said.

  Jemima was determined to overcome this obstacle. "You are half the age of Sir Hubert Frobisher, yet you intended me to be wed to him."

  "A plan which I clearly thought better of, did I not?" Marcus said. "With the result that you are free to find yourself a husband far closer to your own years."

  But it was not what Jemima wanted, though she knew not how to convince him. "I may well seek an older suitor, when the time comes for me to choose myself a husband."

  She looked so determined, lifting her chin in defiance that Marcus found himself laughing. "I don’t doubt that you will do all the choosing. I pity the man who will have no choice but to agree to your every whim."

  Her guardian would never take her seriously, Jemima thought. She was at a loss as to how to convince him otherwise.

  Marcus, for his part, would have paid a fair king’s ransom to be alone with his ward in the barouche on the return journey. But once again he was forced into the society of Mr Owen, who at least now appeared to be paying more attention to his ward’s friend rather than his ward.

  And after all, he had serious misgivings about his own capacity for self-control should he manage to be alone with her for two hours. Suitor or not, he might press his own case regardless, and see how responsive she might be.

  Kitty was filled with admiration for the fine qualities of Richard Owen that night, when she and Jemima conversed in her room after dinner. She had previously chided Jemima for not doing justice to Mr Owen’s handsome looks and charming manners in her earlier descriptions of him.

  These had now been elevated to his noble bearing, his figure that was the manliest of all men, his profound intelligence, his matchless grace and courage.

  "Stop!" Jemima was forced to cry. "I am sure Mrs Owen would be a far more receptive audience to this list of her son’s virtues than I am."

  But Kitty had finally lost her heart, or had decided that she had lost it.

  "But do you not agree that there is not one man in the whole of London who can compare?" she asked.

  "I do not agree. Though I will grant you that he may be the second finest man," Jemima conceded.

  Kitty’s distraction amid her admiration for Richard Owen prevented Jemima from airing her own unhappiness. The thought of her guardian’s unrequited love for some unknown woman caused her considerable pain, but she did not want to depress Kitty’s exhilaration.

  Her friend’s infatuation was also blinding her, Jemima thought, to an increasingly obvious and significant development concerning other members of their household. Jemima did not know if she ought to mention it, but an opportunity soon presented itself.

  Unfastening the pins from her hair, Kitty brought up an earlier conversation. "My father mentioned that he would take us for a ride in Hyde Park if the weather were fine on Thursday. I never expected to find him so attentive, I must confess. I am very glad to see him so often, but what if Mr Owen wishes to invite us out?”

  Jemima chose her words with care. "Dearest, have you ever considered that your father, though doubtless desirous of seeing you, may have a second object of interest when he visits us here?"

  Kitty, who was now brushing out her dark locks, looked surprised. "Another object
of interest? You mean he comes as an obligation to Miss Berystede?"

  Jemima felt a little impatience. "Only think, dearest, with whom he so frequently converses when he is here."

  Her friend was silent for a while. "You cannot think that he comes to pay court to Miss Pargeter! Why, he speaks to her of course, but only because she is there."

  "He talks to her of roses, then sends half the garden from Elstone Court to this house. He consults her as to the redecoration of his house. He arranges outings to places that interest her. You yourself expressed interest in visiting Astley’s Amphitheatre, but he has not yet organised to take us there. I dare say he will, but you see how it looks, do you not?"

  Kitty replacing the brush on the dressing table, pondered this. "But my father is surely too old to think of such a thing as matrimony? At his age, indeed! I can scarce believe it. And with Miss Pargeter! I like her very much, but she must have long ago given up expectations of marriage."

  "Your father is but ten years or so older than the Earl of Southwell, and I do not think Miss Pargeter is many years past thirty. She is from a good family, and her features and figure are very good," Jemima said. "It might be a very suitable match. And you are fond of her yourself."

  "Fond, yes, but I had never imagined her as a stepmama."

  Jemima could not resist mentioning one more thing that had occurred to her. "Of course your father may well wish for a male heir."

  Kitty was scandalised by this. "A child! At his age, and at hers! I am sure such a thing would not be possible."

  "Thirty-three or so would easily be young enough, I recall Mrs Minchin was long past forty when her last child was born. And given Elstone Court is entailed, it would prevent it going to that odious cousin of yours." Jemima shuddered at the memory of Kitty’s second cousin and Lord Elstone’s current heir, who had once visited Elstone Court with the clear intent of eyeing up his future inheritance. Kitty’s own fortune, from her mother’s side, was separate to this. But its magnitude was nonetheless sufficient to have encouraged Mr Algernon Protheroe to have passed more than a casual eye over his younger cousin as well.

  "That is true." Kitty was thinking intently. "All in all this may be a very fortunate situation then, should it come to pass. For I know that I could not bear Algernon to get it, and I know my father greatly disliked him when he stayed with us." Having decided that she approved of a match between her father and Miss Pargeter, Kitty now sought to hasten the happy event. "Only tell me how I can bring it all about."

  Jemima laughed. "I do not think you need do anything. In fact it would be wisest not to interfere. I am sure they will manage it all quite well, if it is to be."

  But a thought had occurred to Kitty. "But what of Miss Berystede? It would be depriving her of her companion, which seems a cruel way to repay all her kindness."

  This had not occurred to Jemima, but she saw an easy solution. "Then I will take Miss Pargeter’s place as companion. For if I am not to wed the man I love, I shall dedicate myself to spinsterhood and improving works."

  Chapter 31

  The following Wednesday they once again attended Almack’s, and Marcus danced with Jemima for the waltz. Afterwards, as they sipped the sweet orgeat, they were once again interrupted by the tall, handsome woman whom Jemima had so greatly disliked on the earlier occasion that they had met.

  “My lord Southwell, what very good care you take of your young ward,” Lady DeClere said. “Are you enjoying the season, my dear?”

  The remark was delivered in a way that anyone might take it for politeness, but Jemima knew that it was meant as a slight.

  “One’s first season must always be an adventure, must it not?” Jemima said. She took some enjoyment from the other woman’s slight wince at the reference to “first”.

  “Indeed it must.” Lady DeClere turned her attention from Jemima to Marcus. “Lord Byron is fled abroad, so I hear.”

  Marcus had also heard this. Given the scandal of George Byron’s divorce, and his escalating debts, it had been of little surprise to many. “So I have heard.”

  “They say Brummell may be forced to do likewise. It is a scourge, gambling,” Caroline DeClere observed.

  “For those with no ability for moderation, indeed,” Marcus replied.

  “It is possible, then, for a man to frequent the gaming rooms and not damage his fortune beyond repair?” Jemima said.

  Marcus looked amused. “I would hope so. For I attend White’s and other clubs myself, from time to time.”

  This was news to Jemima, though she did not wish Lady DeClere to know of her ignorance of such matters. It irked her that the woman was likely more closely acquainted with her guardian’s private interests than she herself was.

  Lady Caroline’s lips twisted into a smile, though it did not reach her eyes. “I am sure we will not see Southwell lost to a throw of the dice."

  “Let us hope that Fortune favours me, then, for George Gresham and I play cards this Friday,” Marcus told her.

  George Gresham approached at this point, and joined them. Jemima had met him on previous occasions, and liked him very much. He was less staid than her guardian could be, and she frequently caught a twinkle in his eye that was directed at her.

  “Do I hear my name, Southwell?” George asked. "What scurrilous untruths do you relate about me?"

  “Only that you are luring your friend away to a den of iniquity, where I am sure you will all emerge very much the worse for wear,” Lady DeClere remarked, smiling.

  George protested. “I confess I may have been in my cups when I lost that bet with Skeffington, but nothing but lemonade shall pass my lips the next time I take on his challenge.”

  Lady DeClere gave a little trill of laughter, which sounded very artificial to Jemima. “Come, now. You gentlemen are always in your cups after patronising such venues.”

  Marcus, aware that he did not particularly wish his ward to be hearing such accounts of gentlemen’s private behaviour, intervened. “I am conscious that we neglect your friends, Jemima. Let us return to them now.”

  He led her back to Miss Berystede and Kitty, conversing with them for a moment, before taking his leave. Jemima saw him walking back in the direction of George Gresham and Lady DeClere, and was not pleased.

  Mrs Linton-Smythe called the next day, to purvey her usual gossip and air various grievances she had suffered on the previous night.

  Her biggest grievance was, in fact, that the Earl had failed to request Selina’s hand for any dances. Mrs Linton-Smythe had dangled her daughter before him, even going so far as to mention that “my dear Selina is not engaged for the next two dances, I dare say she is relieved to rest, though I am sure she would not be so impolite as to refuse an invitation should it be made to her.”

  But the Earl had merely murmured agreement that such a rest must be welcome, for the room was hot and crowded, and had then turned from Mrs Linton-Smythe to speak with someone else who had approached.

  Feeling the snub, Mrs Linton-Smythe decided that he was a very disagreeable man, who showed a lack of manners in disdaining all other partners than his close family connections. She said as much to Miss Berystede as they took tea in the morning room.

  “Doubtless he does not wish to raise the expectations of other women. For I have heard that an announcement will soon be made regarding his marriage with Lady Caroline DeClere. Yes, I am sure that it is so,” Mrs Linton-Smythe announced.

  “I do not believe I am acquainted with the lady you mention,” Miss Berystede said. “I am sure, however, that the Earl of Southwell intended no insult to any women there, whatever his reasons may have been.”

  Jemima, sitting across from them, was in agony. Could Lady Caroline DeClere be the woman he wished to marry? Was this the reason her guardian had so quickly dismissed her back to Miss Berystede last night?

  Mrs Linton-Smythe tapped her fan quite furiously against her hand. “Oh yes. It is quite the talk of the ton. A very suitable match, I am sure, for he is no long
er in his youngest years. It is over a twelvemonth since Lady Caroline was widowed, so such a time has passed for there to be no impropriety in remarriage.”

  Kitty was aware of the torment her friend must be suffering. Glancing at Jemima, she emboldened herself to inquire of Mrs Linton-Smythe who Lady Caroline was.

  “She is the widow of Lord DeClere, who inherited the barony from his uncle, and passes it to a nephew, for his own marriage was also without issue,” Mrs Linton-Smythe informed her.

  “Lady DeClere is quite old, then?” Kitty asked, knowing that Jemima would wish to know this.

  “Oh no! I cannot think she is much past thirty. The Earl of Southwell must doubtless consider the future of his own title and estates, for he has no nephews to pass it to, only very distant relations.”

  The topic was moving towards an area of some delicacy, but Miss Berystede was saved from having to change the topic of conversation by the announcement that Lord Elstone had arrived.

  Kitty, glad for an excuse to leave the present company, rose to her feet. “My father mentioned that he would take us for a ride in Hyde Park if the weather were fine, and it is very fine, is it not?”

  Jemima was not sure if she were glad of the interruption or not. As much as it pained her, she longed to know more about Lady Caroline. It had been troubling enough to learn that her guardian intended to marry someone unknown woman. Now this rival was given flesh and blood, and turned out to be that haughty, horrid woman, Jemima found it unbearable.

  Now conscious of her father’s interest in Miss Pargeter, Kitty took pains to distance herself from the couple and to converse separately with Jemima whenever possible. Her subtlety in doing so was not quite as discreet as she imagined, however. Jemima observed that Miss Pargeter looked over on more than one occasion, wondering why the two younger women lagged behind, only be met with an encouraging smile from Kitty. Whereupon Miss Pargeter, a woman whom Jemima had never known to have lost her composure, gave a slight frown and became faintly flushed.