The Matchmaker's Marriage

by Meg Alexander

  ‘It will pass,’ he comforted. ‘There had to be an end to this humid weather…listen…’ He paused as a torrential rainstorm lashed the windows. ‘Alas, we shall be unable to continue with our work tomorrow…the ground will be too sodden.’

  This news did nothing to cheer his companions, but James did not allow the disappointment to persuade him to forget his duties as a guest. With his usual amiability he did not let the conversation flag, questioning Miss Langrishe about her plans for the rest of the week.

  ‘Perhaps it will be no bad thing if Amy and Charlotte rest tomorrow,’ she said lightly. ‘We are promised to the ball at the Assembly Rooms, and we cannot have our girls looking tired.’

  Sir William gave her an anxious look. ‘Perhaps we have been thoughtless, ma’am. Have we asked too much of our willing helpers?’

  Both girls cried out in protest, but he was not completely reassured. When he took his leave of them later in the evening he had come to a decision. He did not mention his plans to Charlotte, but as he left her at the door he pressed her hand with such warmth that it brought the colour flooding to her face.

  Amy knew nothing of this. As they had promised, Henry and Crispin arrived later in the evening to make their farewells.

  ‘We shall miss you,’ she told them wistfully. ‘It cannot be the same if our party is to break up.’

  ‘You ain’t short of company, coz!’ Henry was disposed to tease her. ‘With James and Linden mooning about you cannot wish for more.’

  ‘They are not “mooning about”,’ Amy told him coldly. ‘If you had paid more attention in these past few days, instead of playing with the sling-shot like a couple of schoolboys, you would have realised that we have made some valuable finds.’

  ‘Lord, what a crosspatch! What has rattled you, coz? We played our part, though it went against the grain. At least you might be grateful.’

  He looked uncomfortable, but he was keen to defend himself. ‘We weren’t to know it, Amy,’ he pointed out. ‘Admit it, it was a freak accident today.’

  Amy was ashamed of her outburst. ‘I’m sorry!’ she said quickly. ‘You are right, of course. It’s just that it was such a shock!’

  Henry gave her a long look. Then, with a wisdom beyond his years, he offered her advice.

  ‘Ain’t it time you left Bath, old girl? I’ve never seen you look so glum. Why not go to Perdita? The change would do you good. You could travel with us on the journey north.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘It’s good of you to offer, but I can’t leave Bath just yet. There is Aunt Trixie to consider, and…er…Charlotte.’

  Henry shrugged. ‘Have it your way, then. I can’t wait to shake the dust myself, and nor can Crispin. Bath is all very well, but it ain’t the most exciting city in the country.’

  It depends what you mean by excitement, Amy thought to herself. Personally she had more than enough to occupy her mind. The evening had passed off well enough, and much to her relief, James’s manner towards her appeared to be unaltered. Even so, she could not be easy in her mind. She had longed to speak to him in private, to apologise, and to be assured that his friendship for her was unchanged, but the opportunity had not arisen. Neither would there be a chance to do so on the following day. The fine weather had broken with a vengeance, and doubtless they were in for days of rain.

  There was the ball at the Assembly Rooms, of course. In the course of the evening she might manage a private word with him, but she could not be sure of it. In the meantime she must possess her soul in patience, willing the long hours to pass upon the following day.

  They dragged as she had feared, and she found herself standing by the windows of the salon, gazing at the rain and wishing that she cared for some of the more acceptable accomplishments for young ladies. She did not paint or draw and her efforts at embroidery were a joke within the family. She loved music too well to regard her own attempts at playing and singing as anything other than disastrous.

  At last the humour of her situation struck her forcibly. She was no ornament to society. She picked up her notes for the dig and went into the library, intending to study them more closely. Her aunt owned several reference books that might provide more insight into the finds.

  Within minutes her concentration was total. She did not hear the frantic knocking at the door, nor the bustle in the hall. It was only when Charlotte burst into the room that she raised her head. Her friend’s appearance alarmed her.

  ‘Great heavens, what has happened?’ she cried. ‘You are so pale! Is someone ill…your father…?’

  ‘I…I…’ Charlotte sank into a chair and burst into a storm of weeping. ‘Oh, Amy, Sir William has offered for me and my father has refused him.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amy threw her arms about her friend ‘Sir William has offered for you?’ she cried in wonder. ‘What an extraordinary thing for him to do!’

  It was not the most tactful of remarks, but Charlotte agreed with her. ‘I know! I could scarce believe it myself. Why should he want to marry me? I am not even pretty…’ She wiped her eyes, and tried to compose herself, but the tears continued to flow.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte, don’t distress yourself! Sir William is your friend and you must be sad for him, but he will get over his disappointment.’

  ‘Quite possibly, but will I?’ Her sobs redoubled until she was incapable of further speech.

  A dreadful suspicion was forming in Amy’s mind. Had she been mistaken all along? She had been so keen to promote a match between James and Charlotte that she seemed to have misunderstood her friend’s feelings as well as her own.

  ‘Forgive me if I am wrong, but have you…er…formed an attachment for Sir William…beyond friendship, I mean?’

  Charlotte gulped. ‘I think I must have loved him from the moment we met. He is so kind and good and he does not frighten me. I even adore the way he loses his spectacles at least six times a day. Oh, Amy, what am I to do?’

  Amy sat down suddenly. For once she was at a loss for words. Her world had turned upside down once more. Both James and her aunt had tried to warn her of the dangers of believing what she wanted to believe, rather than examining the facts. Now she was disgusted by her own folly.

  Yet this was no time to be thinking about herself.

  ‘I confess that I am puzzled,’ she said quietly. ‘What reason did your father give for refusing Sir William’s offer? I had thought it must have pleased your family. Your mother would be much in favour of the match, I imagine…’

  ‘She was! That is the understatement of the year, Amy.’ Charlotte’s sobs had ceased, but she was looking pale and wan. ‘You can guess what has happened. When she heard of Father’s decision she had hysterics, and now she has taken to her bed, threatening to starve herself to death.’

  ‘Oh, love! How dreadful for you! Yet surely there is some mistake. Sir William is such an eligible parti. Has Mr Skelmersdale heard something ill of him? If so, it must certainly be a lie.’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘It is nothing like that. The strange thing is that Father likes him.’

  ‘Then why has he refused his consent?’

  ‘He has so many reasons: I am too young…I have seen nothing of the world, so I can’t compare Sir William with other men…Sir William is twice my age and in any case I have known him for only a few weeks.’ Her lips trembled. ‘Father quoted the old saw to me, “marry in haste, and repent at leisure”. As if I would ever repent of marrying such a man!’

  ‘But none of these are serious obstacles, my love. Perhaps if you were to agree to wait? Your father loves you dearly. He is thinking only of your happiness…’

  ‘Yes, I know…that is why I can’t be cross with him, but I am so unhappy.’ She bowed her head.

  Amy could offer little in the way of consolation. Human affairs could get in such a tangle, she thought miserably. James must surely hear of Sir William’s offer, and Charlotte’s distress at her father’s refusal to accept it. Possibly he had been planning to
offer for her himself. She could imagine his heartbreak when he learned that Charlotte loved Sir William.

  As always, a sense of frustration spurred her into action.

  ‘Is there nothing I can do to help?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, Amy, I should not ask it of you, but would you speak to Father? He thinks so highly of you, I’m sure that he would listen to what you have to say—’

  ‘But what can I say?’

  Charlotte raised brimming eyes. ‘I do not need to tell you,’ she whispered. ‘Only that if I can’t have William I shall not wed at all…but you must make haste. When Mamma told him that the whole purpose of coming to Bath was to find me a good match he said that it was not his idea at all. Now he plans to take us back to Lancashire and I shall never see William again.’

  ‘Of course you will!’ Amy told her briskly. ‘You cannot think him so spineless as to give up so easily. He may be quiet, Charlotte, but, unless I am much mistaken, there is a backbone of steel within that slender frame.’

  The words of praise brought a smile to Charlotte’s lips. ‘And you will speak to Father?’ she pleaded. ‘He has promised to attend the ball tonight as Mamma will not be there, and I need a chaperon. I should not care to go, except that I may see Sir William once more before we leave.’

  Amy felt dispirited. Mr Skelmersdale, she felt, was unlikely to be swayed by heartfelt representations as to the wisdom of smoothing the path of love. Still, she had promised to speak to him and speak she would.

  She saw him at once when she and her aunt entered the Assembly Rooms that evening. He came towards them with a jovial smile, bowed to Miss Langrishe and winked at Amy.

  ‘Eh-up!’ he said. ‘Here comes a bonny lass to cheer us up!’

  Amy had decided upon her plan of campaign. If she could tease him into the best of humours he might listen to her more readily.

  ‘Ecky-thump!’ she said deliberately. ‘Blest if it ain’t the master of t’mill himself…’

  Charlotte’s father stared at her for a disbelieving moment. Then his shout of laughter echoed around the room.

  ‘You’re a caution, miss, and no mistake! You’ve got the twang reet enough! How didst pick it up, lass?’

  ‘I have been listening to my aunt’s new footman, sir. He came to us from Manchester.’

  Mr Skelmersdale gave her a keen look. ‘Will you dance with an old man?’ he asked.

  ‘A waltz, sir?’

  ‘Aye, I think I can manage it. Mrs Skelmersdale don’t approve, but Charlotte and I have had a go at it.’

  Amy allowed him to guide her around the floor. ‘I think you have had more than “a go at it”, Mr Skelmersdale. You are an excellent dancer.’

  She spoke no more than the truth. Like many tubby men, Charlotte’s father was light on his feet and danced with surprising grace.

  ‘Aye, well, that ain’t what you want to talk to me about. Am I in your black books, Miss Amy?’

  Amy gave him a long look. ‘No, sir!’ she told him with perfect truth. ‘I could never think other than well of you, but I cannot bear to see Charlotte so distressed. She is very dear to me.’

  ‘And to me, my dear, but marriage is a serious business. Once handfasted, there is no redress if it turns out badly, especially for a woman. I would not have my girl made miserable for a lack of care upon my part.’

  Amy noted his use of the Lancashire dialect had entirely disappeared.

  ‘You are a fraud!’ she teased. ‘What happened to the worthy son of the soil?’

  He laughed. ‘Sharp as a tack!’ he said admiringly. ‘Will you spoil my fun?’

  ‘My dear sir, I think you are the wickedest of creatures. You take a positive delight in shocking people!’

  He grinned at her. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Miss Amy. It takes one to know one!’

  She smiled, but it was with an abstracted air. ‘Is there nothing I can say to persuade you to reconsider, sir?’

  Mr Skelmersdale held her at arm’s length as the music swirled around them. ‘You’ve done wonders for my girl,’ he said. ‘She’s changed so much in these past few weeks. Will you continue to be her friend?’

  Amy saw her opening. ‘That will be difficult if you take her back to Lancashire, sir.’

  ‘Aye, well…I spoke in the heat of the moment.’ His eyes began to twinkle ‘Sharp enough to cut yourself, ain’t you, my girl?’

  Amy had the grace to blush, but her determination did not waver. ‘Don’t take her away from us,’ she pleaded. ‘I should be so sorry to lose my friend.’

  His bright eyes scanned her face. ‘I make no doubt of that,’ he announced without preamble. ‘You don’t look too clever…I mean, too well. That accident was a bad business. It must have shaken you as much as it did Charlotte.’

  Amy managed a wry smile. ‘It was dreadful, Mr Skelmersdale! I could not sleep for thinking of it.’

  ‘Well, well, ’tis over now and no harm done. Now, miss, I am no ogre. I have not forbidden Charlotte to see Sir William, or to dance with him, or to continue with her sketching, though, as you say, it would be difficult for her to do any of these things from as far afield as Manchester.’ He began to chuckle.

  Amy pressed his hand. ‘Then you agree that she may stay in Bath?’

  ‘Aye, lass, but think on! I’ll hear no talk of weddings or betrothals yet.’

  Amy felt satisfied. At least she had gone a little way towards helping Charlotte gain her heart’s desire.

  Mr Skelmersdale glanced towards the entrance to the Assembly Rooms. ‘Who is yon beauty?’ he enquired ‘She’s causing something of a stir…’

  Amy followed the direction of his gaze and her heart sank. The Countess of Laverstoke had entered the room upon her husband’s arm and was bowing graciously to the assembled company.

  ‘That is Lady Laverstoke,’ she said. ‘She is very lovely, is she not?’

  ‘She is…if you can ignore that sharp expression. I’d call her “snipe-faced”.’

  Amy regarded him with warm affection. ‘Mr Skelmersdale, you are a diamond of the first water,’ she announced.

  ‘But flawed, ma’am…sadly flawed! Now, do give over buttering me up! There are young men here who are giving me looks enough to kill, and here comes one of them.’

  The music had stopped, though Amy was unaware of it. Now she turned and was astonished to find Philippe de Vionnet by her side. As Mr Skelmersdale bowed and left her, she spun round to face the Comte.

  ‘You?’ she cried in disbelief. ‘What are you doing here? I wonder that you dare show your face.’

  The Comte shook his head in sorrow. ‘Am I to be condemned unheard? I have powerful enemies, ma’am, but I thought that you, at least, might wish to hear the truth.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I won’t listen to you,’ she cried.

  ‘You would be well advised to do so, my dear Miss Wentworth. What I have to say concerns you closely…’

  Much against her better judgment, Amy allowed him to lead her to an alcove. ‘Well, what have you to say?’

  The Comte looked at her averted face, and sighed. ‘You think ill of me because of the boys? Ma’am, do pray consider! Was it not a kindness on my part to rescue them from the slave ships and place them with noble families where they might enjoy every luxury?’

  Amy looked her disgust. ‘You did not lose by it, I fancy. Tell me, Comte, how did they come to be shipped to England in the first place?’

  ‘It is a recognised trade, Miss Wentworth. Many of the fine houses which you see in Bristol and even the bridge itself were built upon the profits from that trade.’

  ‘That does not excuse it,’ she replied.

  ‘Perhaps not, but it may explain it. We are not all in the fortunate position of enjoying private means.’

  Amy ignored the gibe. ‘You have made your point,’ she told him coldly. ‘I know that money is your God.’

  ‘Not quite, my dear, though I find it necessary to eat, and it is as well to be able to claim
a roof to call one’s own. Possibly you won’t believe me, but my purpose at the moment is more altruistic.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘I came to warn you, my dear Miss Wentworth. You too have a powerful enemy who is, at this very moment, spreading calumnies about you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you! This is another of your lies—’

  ‘No, it is not! Pray look about you! Do you not see the sly glances and hear the whispers? I don’t believe a word of it myself. It is impossible to imagine the gently reared Miss Wentworth locked in the embrace of a half-naked man, and in public too, though the Countess of Laverstoke insists that it was so.’

  Hot colour flooded Amy’s cheeks. She rose to her feet and moved away from him in an agony of rage and humiliation. She must find James and warn him of these spiteful rumours. He was not far to seek. As he walked towards her, intent upon claiming his dance, she shook her head.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said. ‘And it is important, James.’

  ‘Very well, though I have not yet been struck dumb in the middle of a dance.’

  ‘That may yet happen,’ she told him darkly. ‘Look about you! All eyes are upon us…’

  ‘I had noticed, my dear, but I had set it down to envy of your charming toilette.’

  ‘Oh, pray don’t joke! This is no time to be discussing fashions. We cannot be seen to dance together.’

  He frowned at that. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I will explain, but it must be done in private. There is a small room just to the right of the entrance hall. Will you meet me there in five minutes?’

  James looked mystified. ‘Most certainly, but I don’t understand. Is this some new game or have you been reading more of those Gothic novels?’

  ‘No!’ Her reply was vehement. ‘Please go now. I will follow you as soon as possible…’

  His look of amusement gave her pause, but he did as she suggested. Then Amy glanced about her. Had she imagined that she and James had attracted more attention than usual? Perhaps the Comte had exaggerated the vicious rumours about her.

  He had not lied. She knew that moments later. Many of her acquaintances would not meet her eye and whispers followed her as she moved about the room. Then, as she spoke to Lady Hirst, she received the snub direct. It was a shattering blow. Nothing of the kind had happened to her before and the shock was severe.