A Regrettable Proposal

by Jennie Goutet

  Major Fitzwilliam hesitated before asking, “Does the thought wear on you so? To be without fortune?”

  She followed his lead as he sidestepped a group of women gathering, and she could hear snatches of conversation from Eleanor and Lord Carlton behind them. “No. You might not think it for all I seem to care about balls, routs, and parties. But that’s not what matters most.”

  If she expected Major Fitzwilliam to ask her what did matter most, she was disappointed. Although she was not sure she’d know how to answer him if he had. There was some vague longing for safety and security, and a home where there was laughter. This was what she sought. Major Fitzwilliam seemed to pull her closer, though she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it.

  After walking a short distance in silence, Major Fitzwilliam said, “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Ingram.”

  She felt the sharp knife of disappointment that such predictable words should come from him. “With a fortune,” she added. “Quite the catch.”

  He looked at her in surprise, his brows furrowed. “I had not finished my thought. I’ve never been a man who flusters easily, but around you …” His voice trailed away, and in the ensuing silence, Lydia’s heart beat strangely. She thought of how Major Fitzwilliam commanded every room he was in, but around her he faltered?

  Major Fitzwilliam continued. “Had I completed my thought more quickly, I would’ve added that it’s your spirit that animates your beauty, and your goodness and loyalty that makes it timeless. I imagine what matters to you most must be that which ignites those qualities in you.” He put his warm, gloved hand over hers and caught her gaze until she held her breath in anticipation of his next words. “Miss Ingram, it is my increasing ambition to discover what that is.”

  Eleanor and Lord Carlton followed in the major’s wake, conversing about inconsequential subjects until they reached the park. He seemed to be in high humor and in no hurry either to meet up with acquaintances or to get her alone. The troubling suspicion that he might try and declare himself began to subside as he followed Major Fitzwilliam and Lydia toward the green.

  “I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend Almack’s Wednesday night.” Lord Carlton broke off to wave to a gentleman hailing from across the road. “I’d hoped I might ask you to save me a waltz, but my uncle is in town—my former guardian, though he forgets his role has ended—and he requested I attend to him that evening.”

  “I understand perfectly, Lord Carlton. Of course you must go. Is your mother enjoying improved health?” They stopped behind the major, who had paused to shake hands with Sir Braxsen and another soldier.

  “I fear my mother never enjoys what you might call robust health. Sir Braxsen—” Lord Carlton broke off to greet him in turn.

  When Major Fitzwilliam and Lydia moved forward, Lord Carlton resumed. “My mother desires to meet you and has commissioned me to invite you to dine with us before the theatre on Saturday night. I’ve even brought you a formal invitation.” He slid a white sealed envelope partway out of his coat pocket. “I will keep it for you whilst we are out walking.”

  “She honors me,” Eleanor replied. “When we return to Grosvenor Square, it won’t take me but a minute to write her a reply if you’ll be so kind as to take it to her from me.”

  “Most certainly.” Lord Carlton beamed. “She’ll be delighted by your acceptance. Cecily, too. She quite looks up to you, you know, and relies on your accounts of the balls, which she longs to attend. She must wait a year to make her debut since my aunt is her chaperone, and my cousin won’t be brought out until next year.”

  “It’s hard to wait for one’s Season when you’re too old for the schoolroom but not yet out. Men don’t understand such constraints and cannot know how much it chafes.” As she spoke, she took in the green landscape before her, grateful these few weeks afforded her a brief respite from such constraint.

  “I would not wish to contradict a lady,” Lord Carlton replied, “but men can understand impatience. When one wishes, for instance, to go off and fight or see a bit of the world and cannot, we are forced to accept our lot. My father told me about the Grand Tour, once considered de rigueur for all gentlemen, and which is not possible now with the war … Then there are sick mothers and younger sisters and responsibilities that fall on a person like a weight.” His pace quickened without his seeming aware of it, and Eleanor struggled to keep up.

  “This,” Lord Carlton concluded, “is the lot of men who cannot do quite what they would wish.”

  Eleanor felt a pity she’d not thought possible for any gentleman who had enough to live on and the freedom to come and go as he pleased. “If you could do anything you wished, what might it be?” She turned her head and looked him fully in the face, despite the large rim of her poke bonnet.

  When their eyes met, Lord Carlton’s look changed, and he opened his mouth to speak. Fearing what was coming, Eleanor whipped her head forward again, and at that moment, the major turned back to speak to them. “We are contemplating taking this path and exiting the park on the southern side. What say you?”

  Lord Carlton answered in a hearty voice. “That sounds excellent. Lead on.” The moment was lost, and Eleanor was relieved to see he did not speak words she was not ready to hear.

  “If I cannot go off and fight,” he said, instead, “and I think I really cannot leave my mother and sister without someone to fend for them, I should like to go into politics.”

  “Politics. You’ll be the first person of my acquaintance to pursue it. Have you someone to sponsor you? From my limited understanding, this is something necessary.” Eleanor was ready to latch on to any safe subject.

  “Lady Jersey has been a friend to our family since I was born. She was the one who put the idea in my mind and caused me to turn to this field of study at Oxford. She’s spoken of it to me since, but I cannot turn my mother warm to the idea of it.”

  “That seems constraining, indeed,” Eleanor said.

  “Perhaps you can convince her of its wisdom when you come for dinner,” Lord Carlton said, cheered.

  Eleanor turned toward him, eyes wide. “I have no business influencing her ladyship on any topic. I wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to attempt it.”

  Lord Carlton placed his hand over hers and gave it a pat. “I hope you may one day feel that it’s your place to do so.” His words were laden with significance, and Eleanor’s discomposure increased.

  “When did you start telling fortunes?” She strove for a light tone, pulling her hand away. “I hardly know what I may be tomorrow, much less ‘one day.’ I wish you will not say such things.”

  “Eleanor, you are not so changing—” Lord Carlton stopped short.

  He had used her Christian name, which revealed his intentions as clearly as if he had spoken them. Eleanor walked quickly, trying to break the spell before he could speak whilst she knew so little of her own heart. Lord Carlton was handsome and kind, and with him she would gain a sense of family and a stable household. Beyond the comfort of security, however, he elicited no feelings in her. He was just one friendly face among others. Was security, alone, enough?

  She veered toward the small lake, forcing a cheerful tone. “Oh, here are the swans. Shall we go and feed them? I’ve a ha’pence for the bread.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lady Ingram poured tea into three cups and directed the footman to bring one to her daughter and the other to Eleanor. She moved with brisk gestures and, when she had taken a sip of tea, launched into her objective without preamble.

  “Eleanor, Lord Carlton has asked permission to address you, and I’ve given it. I must say, I’m surprised you’ve caught his fancy out of all the other debutantes, but you appear to have done so. I wish you happy.”

  Eleanor almost choked on her tea. “I … I am not at all decided—”

  “Of course you will say yes,” Lady Ingram dictated. “It’s not every girl that can boast of turning the head of an earl. Lydia, for instance.” She turned to her daughter.
“You are wasting your time with that Major Fitzwilliam instead of making a push to secure one of the titled gentleman. I cannot understand what you mean to accomplish.”

  “Did it not occur to you, Mama, that I like Major Fitzwilliam?” Lydia’s jaw set, and two spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

  “Oh, he’s a very good sort of man, I am sure. Your brother would not associate with him if he were not. But he’s a soldier. No income to speak of. It’s time you set your sights on someone higher and allow the major to move on as well.” Though Eleanor pitied Lydia her mother’s attention, she could not but be grateful it was drawn away from her.

  “Freddy said he’s the very best of men, and I’m inclined to agree—” Lydia stopped the conversation short because Hartsmith opened the door to announce the arrival of the new maid the agency had sent over.

  “We will finish this discussion later,” Lady Ingram said, and she followed the butler out the door, leaving Lydia and Eleanor alone.

  “So … Lord Carlton.” Lydia raised her eyebrows. “I’m not surprised. Of course he would love you.”

  Eleanor sighed. “Can we speak of something else?” She met her friend’s gaze but could not explain further. She needed time to think. “I’m sorry.”

  Lydia raised her eyebrows but set her biscuit on the plate, apparently willing to obey. “You’ll never guess who I saw on Edwards Street today.”

  Eleanor, already exhausted from turning over in her mind the subject of Lord Carlton, his intentions, and what she should do about them, could only reply, “I will not even try, so you must tell me.” However, Lydia’s next words brought her head up in alarm.

  “Harriet Price.”

  Eleanor sighed. Harriet had come after all. “I’d hoped we might escape her presence in London.” She patted the smooth cover of the book she’d been reading. “Harriet Price will be up to no good, I’m sure. She treated me dismally at school, never failing to remind me I didn’t belong to your set.”

  Lydia lifted a shoulder. “She was only jealous because everyone liked you. I told her so when I saw her.” She looked smug. “I also told her about your inheritance.”

  “I wish you would not have. What can that have to do with her?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Lydia countered, “Set her down a peg, which she sorely needs.”

  Eleanor crushed a lump of sugar over her saucer, reducing it to dust. “I cannot help but be ill at ease, though. Wherever Harriet Price goes, she leaves a trail of victims behind. And in my case she actually has something to latch on to besides pure spite.”

  “Even so,” said Lydia, “there’s nothing she can accuse you of. So she saw you climbing in the window in the middle of the night. You had a ready excuse, and she has no other certain proof of anything amiss.”

  “Only that I was out of the seminary in the middle of the night, and innocent girls don’t do that. Reputations have been destroyed for less.” Eleanor glanced up, and seeing Lydia’s stricken face, repented immediately.

  “I would do it again,” she said, coming over to take Lydia’s hand. “You mustn’t think I regret it. I’d only hoped I might escape having to deal with Harriet while I was in London.” Attempting a smile, Eleanor added, “But who knows. Perhaps she has changed and means no mischief.”

  Lydia didn’t look convinced, and Eleanor did not have the heart to attempt it. She sat back and stared at the black marble ormolu clock on the mantle, lost in the memory of that appalling night. What she had gone through had been trial enough, but to have Harriet, of all people, witness her return? It was the worst of luck.

  It’d been after midnight when Harriet had confronted her, and late enough that Eleanor should have been able to creep back into the seminary without being spotted. She had no longer been shaking from nerves but was determined to get into her room and, if she were lucky, to sleep a couple of hours after her dispiriting adventure.

  She had only just made it to Lydia’s assignation with the Latin teacher at eleven o’clock that night. The instructor, furious to behold a penniless and determined Eleanor rather than his intended prey, grabbed her by the arm with the threat of taking her with him. Eleanor twisted free and having darted away, told him, untruthfully but with broad assurance, that the head teacher had been put into possession of the facts of his seduction, and if the Latin teacher did not want to have the mark on his character follow him to his next post, he had best leave with all haste and not contact Miss Ingram again.

  Having effectually sent off the man whom her friend did not yet view as a danger, Eleanor walked the two miles back to school, trembling with both victory and from imagining more sinister outcomes. The moon was overhead as she began to climb the trellis to reach her room, and when a window to her right opened, disrupting her concentration, it frightened her so much she nearly lost her foothold.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing out at this hour, Eleanor?” Harriet had whispered, with a glance back into the room. “You woke me out of sound sleep, and if you haven’t awakened Mathilda, it’s only because she sleeps like a log. Do you want to rouse the entire household?”

  Eleanor paused in her ascent only to lean over and whisper back, “I forgot my shawl in the spinney, and I was so worried it would be taken I couldn’t sleep and rushed out to get it. If Mrs. Wrightworth sees me without it, she’ll give me a thundering scold.”

  Harriet peered out the window. “But you haven’t your shawl. Where is it?”

  Eleanor’s nimble imagination was taxed, but she replied, “Oh, it wasn’t there after all. So all I had for my trouble was some fresh air, and most likely the death of a cold.” She gripped on the vine above her head. “Good night, Harriet. I’m sorry to have woken you. I must climb the rest of the way before I lose my strength.”

  “I won’t tell a soul,” Harriet whispered loudly.

  Somehow your pledge of secrecy does not reassure me, Eleanor had thought.

  The present mood in the room, oppressive from the ticking clock and Lydia’s uncharacteristic silence as she darted surreptitious glances at her friend, brought Eleanor back to the present. Her tea was growing cold.

  A quiet evening at home would have done much to restore her peace of mind, but it was unthinkable to give up their evening at Almack’s when they had vouchers. To add to her troubles, she was sure to see Harriet there. It seemed at that moment as though the number of people Eleanor did not wish to encounter in London was beginning to outweigh the number of those she did.

  Eleanor looked at Lydia and attempted a smile. “Well …” was all she said.

  R

  Stratford dressed for Almack’s with ponderous movements, eyeing the black knee-breeches with distaste. He had given his word to Ingram that he would keep an eye on Lydia and Miss Daventry, but he had no desire to spend the evening watching Miss Daventry sit in Lord Carlton’s pocket. He walked into the sitting room and found his aunt and sisters dressed in the first stare of elegance and waiting impatiently.

  “Good lord, and women are to have the honor of being called slow. Whatever did you find to do all this while, Stratford?” Anna stood and adjusted her skirt in a brisk movement.

  “Aunt, if you’re ready, shall I ring for the footman?” Phoebe walked toward the bell-pull, but her brother checked her movement.

  “There’s no need. I crossed James on my way in, and I’ve had the carriage readied.” Stratford helped his aunt stand and wrapped her cloak around her. “Aunt, I daresay you’ll find the weather agreeable, even at night. The damp has left off.”

  The line of carriages outside Almack’s was long, and it was ten-thirty when they entered. I haven’t begun my discharge faithfully, thought Stratford. I should’ve arrived before the Ingram party.

  He needn’t have worried. Lady Ingram appeared with Miss Daventry and Lydia five minutes after Stratford and his sisters. From across the room of twirling couples, he watched them bestow their cloaks before turning to survey the room. He caught Miss Daventry’s sweeping gaze and gave a sma
ll wave. She smiled back, prompting his feet forward as if of their own accord.

  How could he have hesitated to win her heart? He was going to make a push to secure her affections, and if there were a God above, she would not have accepted Carlton. Has the proposal already occurred? Was he too late? He had put down Carlton for his youth and inexperience, but if he were being honest with himself, it was not Carlton’s youth that made him the wrong choice for Miss Daventry, Stratford realized. It was because he himself had feelings for her.

  If only he could convince her he was the right one for her. Her eyes don’t light up when Carlton walks in the room. And unless I’m very much mistaken, when I am near her, they do.

  Stratford strode toward the Ingrams and Miss Daventry, ignoring other greetings, and met the party before they had fully entered the room. “Ingram asked me to serve as chaperone in his place. If there’s anything I can procure for you, I hope you will not hesitate to ask.”

  Lady Ingram answered for everyone. “Good evening, Stratford. Frederick told me of your intentions, and I approve. We shall do much better to have a gentleman escort.” She looked around and eyed with misgiving Major Fitzwilliam, who was making his way to their group. “Has he gained access here?” she said under her breath.

  Stratford had just the time to reply. “He’s a gentleman, even if he must earn his living, and his connection to your son has given him the access he needs. He’s here on official business.” Lady Ingram nodded, apparently satisfied.

  “Good evening.” Major Fitzwilliam encompassed everyone with a bow. “Miss Ingram,” he said in a clear voice that showed no fear he might not be received, “I believe you’ve promised me a dance.” Lady Ingram’s eyes narrowed at his pronouncement.