An Unmarried Lady

by Willman, Anna

  Elaine’s laugh gurgled most deliciously. “Indeed I shall endeavor to do so.”

  Another caller was announced just then. Polite custom dictated that Sir Edmund consider this his cue to make his departure, so after engaging in a few moments more of comfortable conversation with Miss Anne about her coming Season while Elaine exchanged greetings with the newcomer, he bid the ladies adieu after a visit of no more than twenty minutes.

  When the last of their morning callers had finally departed, the two sisters took their embroidery and repaired to their sewing parlor, while Libby went to look for a book she thought she might have left in the library.

  “It is hardly fair,” Anne commented, as she took up needle and thread, “when the ones we wish to be rid of the most prose on and on until one heartily wishes to see the last of them. But Sir Edmund Pace, whom one would wish to stay as long as possible, left so very promptly. I’m sure I prefer the Corinthian set by far to the most exquisite of Dandies.”

  “Sir Edmund does present a neat appearance, does he not, though he wears his collar points rather high for my taste. However he at least has a neck that can carry off the Waterfall quite nicely. Could you recognize in his most exquisite neckcloth the same arrangement that poor Lord Lindon had attempted to such poor effect? Oh he is quite as nice in his apparel as any Dandy you might hope to meet, only his taste is a great deal more severe.”

  “Why did you not marry him, Elaine? I’m sure he would make you an excellent husband.”

  “My dear, he never asked me. I had no grand portion and his fortune is no more than modest. Nor was he on the lookout for a wife. He was rather squiring his sister Alicia about during her first Season. Alicia Pace (Mrs. Harry Wentworth now) is a great friend of mine, and Sir Edmund and I became acquainted through her. And quite frankly, our friendship was by far more welcome to me than another strained and stilted courtship would have been.”

  “I cannot imagine Sir Edmund stilted or strained. I could see that you are on quite easy terms with him,” Anne said a bit shyly. “Do you not think you could come to love him?”

  “Unlikely, I should think. I am not in general attracted to the sporting world. Nor have I any reason to esteem the habits of gamblers. And I believe Sir Edmund is quite fond of gambling, though he does not seem to have a fatal addiction to it, as our own Papa did, and Giles, too. Still, Sir Edmund has a reputation for making the oddest bets and for quite often getting into some idiotic scrape or other while trying to win them.”

  “What kind of scrape?”

  “Well, he has a reputation as quite a notable whip and is forever racing about the countryside for high stakes. And though he is known for winning most of his races, I believe I have heard that he has on at least one occasion overturned his Phaeton and several other times lost his wager because of upsetting someone else’s carriage and being obliged to stop to render assistance. I believe those stories were bruited widely about because his cronies thought it most unreasonable in him to have interrupted a race on account of the upsets, his own phaeton being entirely unharmed and ‘good to go’.”

  “I for one am glad to hear that his behavior was so gentlemanlike.”

  “I agree. He is a true gentleman and a very good friend. We have had many enjoyable conversations.”

  “But not your idea of a husband?” Anne asked.

  “No, my dear. He is not at all bookish, you see.”

  “Did he mind you being bookish?”

  “Oddly no. He said he was charmed to be acquainted with someone so needle-witted. And in truth, although he is not particularly fond of reading, I found his understanding to be most superior.”

  “For my part I like him very well and would be most pleased to have him for a brother-in-law.”

  “Well yes, so would I,” Elaine replied. “I remember at one time I had some notion of marrying Giles to Alicia, and then you and I would have had the pleasure of having both her as a sister and Sir Edmund for a brother. Ah, here is Libby coming to get me. It is time for us to go down to our pupils and grapple with the terrors of long division.”

  CHAPTER FOUR: In which Lady Benton comes to Call.

  In less than a fortnight the number of callers had diminished to a trickle, each gentlemen returning to Town satisfied that he had at least done his best to remind the heiress of his existence, and each one full of hopes for a more prolonged opportunity at building a warmer friendship in the Spring, when the young ladies would most certainly come to London for the Season. Miss Howard had treated them all with a cool civility that each hopeful caller had understood according to his own measure of self esteem, the meek of heart finding discouragement and the more optimistic interpreting even the slightest of smiles as a naturally modest maiden’s secret signal to him to persevere.

  Three of these worthies requested a private audience with Mr. Howard, of whom they formally begged permission to pay their addresses to Elaine. Mr. Howard had not denied them, although he had recommended that they delay pressing their courtship until early spring, when the young ladies would emerge from mourning for their dear brother and go to pay a visit to their aunt in London. Undeterred by this good advice, two of them went straight way to Elaine with their proposals. Both left Lynnfield sadly disappointed.

  Life at Lynnfield resumed its usual quiet pace. Mr. Howard breakfasted in bed each morning, partaking of a cup of chocolate and toast, and then, assisted by Carney, his valet, he made his way down to the Green Parlor, where he settled himself into his wing-backed arm chair, with either a foot stool or a small work table set in front of him, depending upon his strength that day. Elaine or Anne would bring him a light meal early in the afternoon and sit with him for a half hour or so, taking care not to over tire him. Work had commenced on the roofs, so Elaine was content not to harass him with business, and Anne was much preoccupied with the task of preparing her wardrobe. Mr. Howard, left much on his own, divided his time equally between napping and making sundry plans, none of which he was willing to share with his elder daughter.

  Having survived the first fruits of his manipulations, Elaine resigned herself to being kept in ignorance, thinking ruefully that for all his charm and good nature, her father was as stubborn as she was herself, and trusting that she would learn soon enough (probably too soon) the details of whatever it was he was planning. In the meantime, between her many other duties, and keeping her own counsel, she continued to sort through the books in the library, searching for and selecting those volumes that had the virtue of being both valuable and of little interest to herself, her father, Libby or Mary Hastings. As Anne was but an indifferent reader, she felt she need not consider her literary tastes.

  Elaine was thus occupied in the library one afternoon, down on her knees, pulling out some old volumes she had discovered on one of the lower shelves, when she was interrupted by the sound of a new visitor being invited into the Great Hall. She was just able to get to her feet and brush the dust from her skirts before the butler came to the library door and announced the arrival of the next fruit of her father’s planning. “Lady Benton is here, Miss Howard. I have taken the liberty of ushering her into the Blue Drawing Room and offering her some refreshment after her journey.”

  “My Aunt? Here at Lynnfield? Oh thank you, Roberts. Will you ask Mrs. Fraidy to prepare a room for her and have Edgar take her bags up. Does she have her dresser with her?”

  “Mrs. Fraidy was forewarned by Mr. Howard of the lady’s arrival and has already prepared the French bed chamber, Miss. A female of a most formidable consequence (if I may venture to say so) has arrived with Lady Benton,” Roberts replied. “I have asked Hastings to install her in the side chamber adjoining Lady Benton’s room and to do what she can to make her comfortable.”

  “Oh yes. We can trust Hastings to make things right. I must go to Lady Benton. Oh, this is too bad of my father, for I can see that this is a part of his scheming. How can he have not warned me that my aunt was coming to visit? He is ever one for surprises. It is most i
nfamous of him! Could you please inform him, and my sister too, that Aunt Katherine has arrived?”

  Elaine found her aunt standing before the window, looking out at the great lawn. She had taken off her hat and placed it upon an oval table near the window. It was smartly trimmed with three pheasant feathers and was a perfect match to the dashing green traveling dress she wore so elegantly. Lady Benton turned as Elaine entered, lifted one of her beautifully arched eyebrows, and laughed outright at the sight of her disheveled niece advancing upon her. “My dear Aunt Katherine,” Elaine exclaimed. “I hope you may forgive my disreputable state, but indeed, I had no notion that you were coming. I have just stopped in to see that you are receiving adequate refreshment before I go to change. As you can see I have been busying myself with the housework.”

  “My dear, you know that you need stand on no ceremony with me, but has it come to this, that you have no servants to do your work?” inquired Lady Benton.

  “Oh no, it is not so bad as that, but our staff is sadly reduced, and I cannot expect dear Mrs. Fraidy to do it all with only two elderly housemaids. And then, too, I was immersed in a task that can only rightly be done by myself, so it would have been to no good purpose to deplete Mrs. Fraidy’s resources simply to provide me with some minor assistance.”

  “Well, now that you are here, you young hoyden, you might as well sit down and let me take a look at you. How can you manage to look so charmingly, when you are all in your dirt?”

  Elaine blushed as they sat down. “Anne will be here soon, and she can take you in to Papa while I go to change. How are you my dear Aunt? I must say that you look quite splendid as usual, though I collect you must have been on the go for some hours. I’m afraid the roads are not at their best, though last week’s rain will have dampened them down somewhat. And how are my little cousins?”

  Lady Benton was a sociable little woman, fashionably slim with fair curls and deep blue eyes. She had a tendency to sentimentality that quite disguised an essential core dedicated almost entirely to doing exactly as she pleased. Extravagant and often thoughtless, she had married a man of considerable wealth who openly doted upon her, which fact allowed her to be generous when she pleased and protected her from any consequences of her occasional missteps, of which she remained comfortably oblivious. She was quite well liked by the ton, for her manners were correct and her charm enduring.

  She was the younger sister of Elaine’s mother, and the mother herself of two young girls, not yet out of the schoolroom, and a son still in the nursery. As she considered herself a very fond mother, she was quite happy to spend some minutes recounting the latest accomplishments and antics of her progeny. Before she could finish cataloging their adventures, Anne slipped quietly into the room and stood shyly beside Elaine.

  “So this is the niece I am to bring out!” Lady Benton exclaimed, interrupting a somewhat disjointed explanation of the events leading to dear little Julian’s being banned to the nursery for two full days. “Come and let me look at you. It is such an age since I last saw you and then you were but a little thing, no older than my own Sophie is today. Oh, do not tell me your hair is red! No, no, I see it is not. It’s just that it shone so in the light for a moment, that I quite mistook it. You’ve got a lovely smile, my dear. And pretty manners, too. Unexceptionable! Your Papa said I should come and see for myself and I am excessively glad that I have, for you will do very well. Very well indeed. I do think you may take the Town quite by storm. Your features are not so perfect as your sister’s, but you have a quality about you that may serve you far better than ever her odd bookish ways served her.”

  Elaine excused herself, bid Anne to take Lady Benton up to her room when she had finished her refreshment, and made plans to meet them again in some twenty minutes time in the Green Parlor where they would be sure to find their father eagerly awaiting them.

  Mr. Howard had prepared for this visit carefully. Carney had put upon him a starched collar and neckcloth, and though the points of the collar hardly matched the magnificent heights of Lord Lindon’s, nor even the more modified style assumed by Sir Pace, and though the configurations of his neckcloth were simple and neat rather than bold and pleated, Elaine privately thought him very well turned out. His coat was well cut, his handsome countenance was wreathed in smiles, his silvering hair brushed and his brown eyes gleaming with pleasure. He looked ten years younger than was his wont and in fact he resembled nothing so much as a small boy bent upon some great mischief. Elaine discovered that it was not impossible for one’s heart to both rise and sink at the very same moment.

  “I must say, my dear Lambert, that you look to me to be in very fine fettle for someone widely reported to be little more than an invalid!” exclaimed Lady Benton after the usual exchange of greetings.

  “Some days are better than others, my dear Katherine. Tell me, Sister, what do you think of our little Anne? Will she do, do you think?”

  “I should think so indeed! Once we get her rigged up all to the nines she will do very well. I can hardly wait to take her to my dressmaker. She will certainly be all the rage.”

  “Oh, but Aunt Katherine, indeed we cannot afford such an expenditure,” Elaine spoke hurriedly. “Though indeed we will be most grateful for your advice on all the gowns we have been sewing for Anne these ages past. You will know just what little touches must needs be made to bring them up to the latest mode.”

  “Homemade gowns? Elaine! It is not to be thought of! I cannot introduce Anne to the ton in homemade frocks.”

  “You will find that we are very clever with our needles. What do you think of the gowns we are wearing even now? Of course they are mourning clothes, or half-mourning, I should say, but the stitches are as fine and straight as you will find anywhere.”

  “You made those yourselves?” Lady Benton examined both their gowns with a critical eye. She reached out and, with a practiced hand, explored the seam on the sleeve of Elaine’s dress. It was made of a fine Coburg twill of soft grey with the white muslin collar and cuffs embroidered in various shades of grey. “Very well done, indeed.”

  “Miss Miles did most of the embroidery on this dress,” Elaine explained. “And Hastings completed the hem, but everything else I did myself, both the cutting and sewing. As Anne did hers. It was our mother’s wish that we learn all aspects of sewing, so when we were not learning Italian and French, or playing at the pianoforte, we practiced sewing, with help from Mama’s own seamstress.”

  “My dear sister was always of such a practical bent of mind. Well, I shall take a look at these garments you have fashioned, and it may well be that some of them may do for the Season. But I warn you, you will still need to purchase others.”

  “We will need to purchase some more fabrics at least, and some ribbon and lace, for we plan to busy ourselves at sewing all winter.”

  “You will not undertake to make a Court dress!”

  “Oh no, that is quite beyond our skill. And that is most worrisome to me, for I am afraid that even selling our books may not suffice for that one unavoidable expenditure. Why just think, the cost of so much fabric alone must be beyond us. Still, I have found two or three very old books that I believe might be quite valuable, Papa. I must have Edgar bring them to you for your opinion.”

  “The books, again!” snorted Mr. Howard in disgust. “I will hear no more of that!”

  “I cannot imagine what books could possibly have to do with the question at hand,” Lady Benton scolded. “There can be no question about the Court dresses. You must each have a new one made, and that is the very reason that I came to Lynnfield. I am taking you both back to London with me tomorrow. We will go directly to the drapers to select fabrics and from there to my dressmaker where we will choose the patterns and have the necessary measurements taken, so that they can be ready in time for the Queen’s Drawing Room in March.”

  Elaine looked helplessly from her aunt to her father. “How are we to pay for this?”

  “But why should we need to pay?”
her aunt replied, bewildered. “We will purchase them on credit, of course.”

  “And who would be so foolish as to give us credit? For Lynnfield is already fully encumbered with mortgages, and only now is the income once more beginning to increase.”

  “Faugh! What care I for your mortgages? The tradesmen will not care either, for they are quite beforehand and often the very first to know all of the latest on dits. Believe me, my dear, there is not a single draper or milliner or seamstress, or any other sort of tradesman in any corner of London for that matter, that won’t happily seek your custom and be glad to give you credit, knowing well that you are soon to come into your fortune.”

  Elaine cast a doleful eye upon her father but addressed her remarks to Lady Benton. “Forgive me, Aunt, but I am not looking to be married and am most unlikely to come into any fortune at all.”

  “Nonsense, my girl. Of course you will marry. And even if you insist that you will not, there is not one tradesman in one hundred who would believe you, and so they will nevertheless still be clamoring to serve you.”

  “I will not willingly take on a debt that I know I cannot repay.”

  Lady Benton was astonished. “But indeed everyone does so. Why should not you do so also?”

  “I cannot repay it. Lynnfield might in just a few years begin to bring in an income that could support such a debt, but not yet, and I very much fear not soon enough.”

  “Not soon enough? Why there is plenty of time. Even if you do not marry, no one will dun you until you reach the age of twenty-five and that is nearly a year hence. By then, if you are indeed still single, you may pay it off in no time at all from this increase in income from the land that you have talked about. So you see, it is quite simple and we can consider the matter settled.”

  “No, Aunt, the matter is not settled,” Elaine answered sadly, eyeing her Papa and shaking her head.