The Matchmaker's Marriage

by Meg Alexander

  Amy tossed her bonnet aside. ‘I’m starving!’ she announced cheerfully. ‘It must be the sea air. I could eat a horse!’

  ‘I hope we can do better than that, ma’am.’ The landlord had returned with his minions in tow. They were bearing dishes of dainty crab cakes with a piquant sauce, baskets piled high with fresh-baked bread, and earthenware bowls filled with yellow country butter set in ice.

  James inspected the food with approval. ‘This looks like local produce, landlord. Is that so?’

  ‘We don’t use aught else, my lord. Can’t best good English fare, in my opinion.’

  He was soon proved right, as the first course disappeared like snow in summer.

  ‘Turbot to follow? Oh, James, you have done us well. It is positively my favourite fish.’ Amy allowed herself to be given a liberal helping of the dish.

  ‘I can’t take the credit, Amy. I left the choice of menu to mine host.’

  ‘Well, he certainly has my vote. This sauce is quite exceptional. I wish I knew the ingredients.’

  Both her cousins roared with laughter. ‘To tell Aunt Trixie? Amy, she is turning you into a connoisseur.’

  Amy was undaunted. ‘Aunt Trixie believes in the value of good food. I notice that you don’t complain when you are seated at her table.’

  ‘We’d be fools to do so.’ Crispin chuckled. ‘Her chef is the best in Bath.’ He turned to Charlotte. ‘You must think us overly concerned with eating, Miss Skelmersdale.’

  ‘Not at all, sir.’ Charlotte smiled a shy disclaimer. ‘This is all so enjoyable.’

  They knew that she was not referring only to the food.

  ‘There is much more to enjoy today,’ James announced. ‘Do you care to visit the cathedral, or John Wesley’s Chapel?’

  Charlotte glanced at her companions, and was tempted to smile. There was a marked lack of enthusiasm for the proposal on the part of both young men.

  ‘That would be interesting,’ she agreed. ‘Should we have time to visit the Welsh Back?’ She was blushing furiously, alarmed by her own temerity. ‘I read about it somewhere. It is a quay by the River Avon and has been used since medieval times. There are old warehouses of historical interest…’ Her voice died away.

  ‘And ships, of course.’ Crispin nodded his approval. ‘Now, sir, is that not a better idea? After all, we can visit a cathedral at any time, but in the usual way we are far from a port.’

  ‘Oh, yes, let us go there instead!’ Amy was filled with enthusiasm. ‘It isn’t that I don’t care for churches, but it was fun to see the ships this morning.’

  James was quick to agree. He could guess at what it had cost Charlotte to put forth her suggestion, but he realised at once that she had been thinking of the others rather than herself. And she knew of the Welsh Back, did she? There was more to this young lady than met the eye. Her mother might frown upon the notion of education for women, but he suspected that in secret Charlotte was educating herself.

  With everyone in agreement as to their destination for the afternoon they wasted no time in doing full justice to the rest of the meal. Roast saddle of mutton flanked with side-dishes was followed by apple tart and a syllabub for the ladies.

  ‘We shall fall asleep this afternoon,’ Amy protested at last.

  ‘The wind will blow away the cobwebs,’ James assured her. ‘Besides, you have been most abstemious with the wine.’ Without seeming to do so, he had made sure that neither of the girls had taken more than a single glass. ‘Shall we be on our way?’

  He left the ladies to retire whilst he settled up the bill and Charlotte seized the moment.

  ‘Miss Wentworth, I want to thank you,’ she said in a low tone. ‘Today has been…special for me. I can’t remember ever having such a happy time.’

  ‘There will be more.’ Amy’s enthusiasm was infectious. ‘I have a secret, but I can’t say more at present. Our plans are not yet complete.’

  Charlotte looked at her companion’s glowing face. ‘Oh, Amy, can you mean that you are betrothed?’

  ‘Me…betrothed? Great Heavens, what can have given you that idea?’

  Charlotte blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I beg your pardon! Do forgive me! It is just that, well…you and James would appear to have such a close understanding and to be so much at ease in each other’s company. I thought…I mean…’ Her voice tailed away.

  ‘Lord, Charlotte, I have known James Richmond all my life. We do deal well together, I admit, and I love him dearly, but only as a friend. He is as comfortable with me as…well, as an old shoe. Sometimes we disagree, of course, James is determined to reform me.’ Amy began to laugh.

  ‘I’m sure he does not mean to criticise. One needs only to look at his face to see that he is both kind and clever.’

  ‘He is not handsome, certainly. I suppose he looks distinguished more than anything else.’

  ‘Yes, that is it! Distinguished is the perfect description.’ Charlotte was unusually animated, and Amy stole a glance at her. Could it be that Charlotte was developing a tendre for her old friend?

  ‘Do you know anything of his history?’ she asked in a casual tone.

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘Mamma does not discuss…I mean, she does not often speak to me of the people we meet—that is, unless they are a suitable parti.’

  ‘I see. Well in discounting Sir James she is quite right. As a young man he suffered a dreadful tragedy. He had been wed for less than a year when his wife died in childbed. The babe died too. That was why he went away. Bath held too many memories…’

  ‘Oh, Amy, how could he bear it?’

  ‘He couldn’t. It has taken years for him to come to terms with his loss, but now he knows that he must put the past aside.’

  ‘Do you feel that he will marry again?’

  ‘I don’t know, Charlotte. I think he is still grieving, though he realises that life must go on.’ For some unaccountable reason, Amy was uncomfortable with the subject. ‘Come, let us join the others,’ she said quickly. ‘They will wonder what is keeping us.’

  For the rest of the afternoon James was the perfect guide to Bristol. He took them past the Temple Church with its leaning tower, which was built on the site of the old Knights Templar Church, and up St Michael’s Hill. Henry and Crispin paid little attention to the almshouses and the seventeenth-century buildings, but their interest quickened when James pointed out that this was the last walk for those on their way to the old gallows on the hill.

  ‘You are a pair of ghouls!’ Amy accused as Charlotte shuddered. ‘James, let us leave this place. Is there not a famous market here in Bristol?’

  ‘St Nicholas Market? Do you care to see it?’

  There was a general chorus of assent, with the boys assuring him that at least there would be some life about the place.

  James smiled, but he stopped the carriage to allow the party to walk at their leisure about the stalls, and make their few small purchases.

  Amy was fully occupied when she heard a voice behind her.

  ‘Miss Wentworth, what a pleasure! I had not thought to see you here in Bristol.’ She turned as the Comte de Vionnet took her hand and kissed it.

  ‘Nor I you, Comte. Are you here on pleasure or on business?’

  ‘On business, but my visit has now become a joy.’ His dark eyes fastened on her face with such intensity that she began to blush. She had not forgotten his passionate declaration at their previous meeting.

  Charlotte looked from one face to the other and drew her own conclusions. Had she discovered Amy’s secret?

  Not wishing to intrude, Charlotte turned away, but Amy drew her back. As she made the introductions she was conscious that James and her cousins had reappeared. Henry and Crispin seemed to find nothing untoward in the unexpected arrival of Vionnet and Sir James’s expression was unfathomable.

  Amy felt uncomfortable. To the surprise of her companions she mentioned that the hour was growing late. Their return journey on this late summer evening would take some time,
and they should be setting off without delay. She was unsurprised when James agreed with her.

  As they set off for Bath she had much to occupy her mind. Uppermost was the suggestion made by Charlotte that James might marry again. It hadn’t occurred to her. In these last days she had fallen, almost insensibly, into the happy relationship that she’d remembered as a child. It would be hard to lose him to some female who might frown upon their friendship. Then understanding came to her. Suppose he were to marry Charlotte?

  It might not be impossible. James Richmond was a wealthy man, with an impeccable ancestry—as such he would certainly be acceptable to Charlotte’s mother. And James did not see Charlotte as either plain or dull. Had he not remarked upon her unusual looks? Aside from that, he had found no difficulty in engaging her in conversation.

  As for Charlotte herself, it was clear that she admired him. If this relationship could be fostered it might bring happiness to both of them.

  She was honest enough to admit that her plan was not entirely altruistic. If Charlotte and James should wed, she would lose neither of her friends.

  It was, therefore, something of a shock when Henry took her to task that evening. She had no warning, and smiled at him when he sought her out.

  ‘I saw you deep in conversation with James,’ she teased. ‘What are you plotting now?’

  ‘Not much, coz. That is, compared to you.’ His face was stern. ‘Must you go on meddling, Amy?’

  She stiffened. ‘I don’t like your tone, you stupid creature! Nor do I understand you.’

  ‘Then let me explain. You take up this Miss Skelmersdale under false pretences. What do you suppose will happen when her termagant of a mother discovers that she has not had an offer, either from myself or Crispin?’

  ‘Oh, I see! We are all to be cast into deep despair because you have no wish to wed? Don’t be such a coxcomb! You are not the only men in the world. Miss Skelmersdale would not look at you. If you must know it, she has set her heart upon a man who is worth two of you.’

  Henry looked disconcerted. ‘Well, I think you might have explained,’ he said uneasily. ‘Are we just the smokescreen?’

  ‘You might say that,’ Amy agreed. ‘How else was I to get Charlotte away from her mother? She needs time to…er…consider her true feelings. Besides, I need your help on another matter.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘James has offered to let me help him in his work on ancient sites. I can’t do that without a female companion. If Mrs Skelmersdale believes that you or Crispin are interested in Charlotte, she will raise no objection to the project.’

  ‘But why would you want to do it, Amy? You wouldn’t enjoy it in the least. I don’t see you grubbing about in the dirt in pouring rain and a howling gale.’

  ‘It doesn’t rain all the time,’ she cried impatiently. ‘Oh, you don’t understand, do you? I want to use my mind. I’m tired of gossip and talk about the latest fashions. It’s different for a man. You can join the army or the navy, or go on a Grand Tour of Europe if you wish. I am not free to do any of these things.

  ‘Of course not. You’re a girl. Ain’t it time you thought about finding yourself a husband?’ He paused as a thought struck him. ‘Oh, I see! Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘That you’ve set your cap at Richmond? This plan of yours will keep you in his company, won’t it? Well, I’ll help you, coz. He’s the best of fellows. You couldn’t have made a better choice.’ He leaned back in his chair and gave her a benevolent smile.

  Amy was unable to speak for a few seconds, and when she did it banished the smile from his face.

  ‘Does no one ever think of anything but marriage?’ she cried in despair. ‘That’s the second time today that my name has been linked with that of James. Let me assure you, Henry, that I have not “set my cap” at him, as you are pleased to put it. James is a dear friend and nothing more.’

  ‘Well, don’t fly into alt,’ he begged in an injured tone. ‘You are so free and easy with him. You can’t blame anyone for drawing the obvious conclusion.’

  Amy glared at him. ‘It would help if people would mind their own business, Henry. Now, will you help me or not? All I’m asking is that you and Crispin squire Charlotte about for a few weeks, in my company, of course.’

  He looked at her in horror. ‘You can’t mean it! Do you tell me that you will ask that girl to join you on some blasted heath whilst you ferret about for bones? She won’t do it, I can tell you. Besides, Aunt Trixie would never agree.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. And I won’t ask you to ferret about for bones, as you put it. All we shall require is your company to and from the site…and…er…perhaps you might make yourselves agreeable to Mrs Skelmersdale.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Henry’s tone was ironic. ‘Many have tried, but few have succeeded.’

  Amy decided to change her tactics. ‘It isn’t beyond you, is it?’ she asked. ‘One young lady told me recently that you and your brother could charm the birds from the trees.’

  ‘But this bird is an elderly vulture, Amy.’ His expression was so gloomy that Amy began to laugh.

  ‘Do it for me,’ she begged. ‘I’d do the same for you.’

  ‘I know you would.’ Henry rose to his feet. ‘I’ll say this for you, Amy. You ain’t like any other girl I know. Very well, then, we’ll go along with you for the present, but you must tell me one thing first…’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Who is this Philippe de Vionnet?’

  ‘The Comte?’

  ‘Yes, the Comte…the one who was making sheep’s eyes at you today.’

  Much to her annoyance Amy felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘He is a friend of James Richmond…or rather, an acquaintance.’

  ‘Regular lady-killer, ain’t he? Don’t like the type…all that hand-kissing and so on.’

  ‘He is highly unlikely to offer to kiss your hand, Henry. Why this sudden interest in the Comte?’

  ‘He don’t interest me at all. It’s you I’m thinking of. Don’t let him turn your head with his fancy ways.’

  ‘Well, really!’ Amy was about to give vent to her feelings, but then she saw his troubled face.

  ‘Don’t worry!’ she said cheerfully. ‘No amount of hand-kissing will cause me to fall into Monsieur de Vionnet’s arms.’

  Chapter Three

  Yet Henry’s words had given Amy food for thought. She sought her bed debating possible reasons for the Comte’s unpopularity with the gentlemen of her acquaintance. Jealousy? That was possible in Henry’s case, though James could not be accused of it.

  Whatever their reasons, she would not allow either of them to dictate to her. If her aunt had taken against the Comte that would have been a different matter, but Miss Langrishe had found him amusing.

  He was certainly that. As she recalled the dark, laughing face she began to smile. Quite apart from the Comte’s entertaining conversation it was flattering to have made so swift a conquest. Naturally she could not take his protestations of devotion seriously, for all the burning passion in his look. She guessed him to be an accomplished flirt, and she had no objection to playing that particular game.

  It was new to her, though she had often teased her sister about the number of men who had fallen at Perdita’s feet, claiming to have been dazzled at first sight. It was only to be expected. Perdita was a famous beauty. Amy sighed. She could not claim to rival her sister in that respect.

  She dismissed her maid and wandered over to her mirror. Instead of a perfect oval the face which looked back at her was rather square, broad-browed and with a jutting chin.

  She had the family colouring, with hair of the same blue-black as a raven’s wing. Dark eyebrows soared above a pair of large and lustrous eyes, but her mouth destroyed any claims she might have had to classical good looks. It was much too wide and generous.

  She pulled a face at her reflection. There was little point in bemoaning something she could not cha
nge. At least her skin was good and free from the dreaded scars of smallpox, which had destroyed the appearance of so many women. That, at least, was some small comfort.

  As she climbed into bed she dismissed the Comte from her mind. There were more important matters which now demanded her attention.

  Tomorrow she would seek her aunt’s permission to help James with his work. Miss Langrishe was broad-minded, but as long as Amy was in her charge she would insist on compliance with the rules of Society. There could be no question of Amy setting out as the only female in a party of gentlemen, even if two of them were her cousins. And I can scarcely take my maid with me, Amy thought in amusement.

  Charlotte was the answer, but would her friend agree? It was more than likely, but her formidable mamma would be the stumbling block. If Mrs Skelmersdale suspected that Charlotte ran the risk of becoming a blue-stocking, that would be the end of the matter. Still, Henry had promised to help, and his charm, together with that of his brother, should be enough to counter all objections.

  Amy’s excitement banished all thought of sleep. Was it too fanciful to imagine that James and Charlotte might discover that they were suited? James had spoken highly of her friend, dismissing the notion that Charlotte was either plain or dull. As for the girl herself, she seemed to be more than half in love with James already.

  And I shall have my own work, Amy thought to herself with glee. What a joy it will be to be doing something interesting!

  She said as much to her aunt on the following day, and was dismayed to see a troubled look upon that lady’s face.

  ‘Do you find it dull here, Amy?’ she asked at last. ‘I feared as much. When you last stayed with me, you had your sister and your friend Louise for company…’

  Impulsive as always, Amy sank to the ground beside her aunt’s chair and seized her hand, holding it against her cheek.

  ‘Darling Aunt Trixie, you are all the company I need. What an ungrateful wretch you must think me! Have I not told you how I love to stay with you? You are too good to me! How could I find life dull in Bath when you insist on taking me to all the balls, the soirées and the concerts, even though you are often in pain?’