An Unmarried Lady

by Willman, Anna

  “And you? Will you find a husband in London?”

  “For a fortune? No Papa. It is not what I want, you see.”

  “What do you want, my child?”

  “Don’t you know that I already have everything that I want? I love my life here with you, taking care of Lynnfield, and teaching the children. Oh, it would be lovely to have enough of the ready to reestablish the stables and go out riding as I used to when I was younger, and to be able to enter once more into the social life of our neighbors. I admit that I miss those things, but none of that is to be in any case. Ever since Giles’ death, I have known that I must one day be parted from our home, and from my friends. And Bath – well they have several fine libraries there, and concerts and assemblies, so that I know I shall find new friends there. I won’t be an outcast, you know. And of course I shall have my dear Libby and Mary Hastings, too. Perhaps we might even find children to educate there as well.”

  “You would prefer to remain here at Lynnfield?”

  “Oh yes, yes I would. I would so much rather stay here than waste these few precious months gadding about in London.”

  He was silent a moment and then spoke a little hesitantly. “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but I have a plan that I think will suit.”

  “Oh no, no more schemes, dearest Papa! We have succeeded. No more, I beg you.”

  “Hear me out, daughter!” His voice was stronger, even stern. “I am only at the beginning of my plans. I have written to our cousin, this Captain James Howard. I have invited him to come to Lynnfield to stay with us this winter. We will meet him. We will introduce him to Lynnfield, to the House and the land, and to our tenants. We will teach him to love Lynnfield as we do.”

  “Why yes, Papa. I think that is an excellent idea. He will surely be glad of the opportunity to learn about his future home, and I shall be happy to show him about. But if you are thinking I will stay on in the Dower House as we had originally planned, even if he offered it, no, I think it would not do, you know. Well, how could I bear to be here and watch him make all kinds of changes, or worse, neglect the place.”

  “No, I want more for you than that.”

  “What more? Papa, there is something you are not telling me. What are you planning?”

  “I’m of a mind to marry you to him, my dear.” Mr. Howard smiled broadly, pleased at the simplicity of his plan.

  “Marry me to him! But I do not even know the man!”

  “Well, you will know him after he has spent some two months or more here.”

  “Outrageous! He may already be married. He may be a fool, or unkind, or anything at all. Papa, this will not be!”

  “He is a ‘true’ Howard. On your brother’s word.” His voice faltered as he saw her eyes flash in sudden anger.

  “And you want me to marry him? So that I can watch him tear down what I have so carefully built up? If he is a Howard, we can be sure that he is extravagant, no doubt a rake and a gambler, and with no head for business. Charming, no doubt, but truly Papa, have I not already had enough of paying for Howard follies? Is this what you want for me?”

  “It is the only way I can give you Lynnfield,” Mr. Howard said faintly, clearly taken aback at her vehemence.

  “Give me Lynnfield? Oh Papa, this is too much!” She realized that she was close to shouting and turned abruptly to leave. Then in the doorway she paused and with a visible effort turned back again, saying in a low constrained voice, “Forgive me! Truly I did not mean what I said.”

  “My child, are you saying now that you can never get your fill of paying for my follies?”

  “I did not mean to say that, Papa. You know I did not. You know I am always happy to be with you. Oh Papa, do not die!”

  “Are those tears, Laney? Come now, you cannot ask me to pledge not to die, when you know I have determined to make you no more false promises.”

  Elaine smiled, but shook her head as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. “You need make no more promises, Papa, an no more schemes. We have contrived and succeeded. Anne will be happy. I am sure of it. And I will be content. You must believe that I shall be leading a life that I have chosen, one that I truly want.”

  “I would give you Lynnfield.”

  “Papa, do not! This will not be.”

  “I have already written to him, asking him to come.”

  “And he will be welcome. I will show him anything he wants to see, tell him anything he wants to know. But I assure you I will not marry him. Please do not speak to me of this again.”

  “But, Laney…”

  “I’ll not hear one more word!” She came back into the room, bent over and kissed her father on the cheek and then went briskly out of the room.

  CHAPTER SIX: In which the Misses Howard Go to London.

  The trip to London in Lady Benton’s traveling coach was wet and dreary. A fine October rain needled down on the roof of the carriage and the fog set in fast around them, making it impossible for Anne, who sat forward beside my lady’s most correct abigail, to view the passing countryside. She had thought she would enjoy the novelty of sitting with her back towards the front of the carriage, looking back out the window at the world they were leaving behind, but as her only view was a veil of white, she was not disappointed when Lady Benton required her to pull the curtain tight across the window to reduce the draft.

  The roads had developed a thin layer of slippery mud that slowed their pace and made Lady Benton rather impatient and inclined to be cross. It occurred to her rather too frequently for her fellow travelers’ peace of mind that had they left the day before as she had originally intended, they would be warm and comfortable in her London Town House this very minute, with her dear children happy to have their Mama back after such a long separation. Elaine and Anne, sitting across from one another, exchanged looks, but kept their thoughts to themselves, acutely aware that no matter how tiresome their aunt might be at this moment, they were indeed deeply indebted to her for her generosity in agreeing to sponsor Anne’s entrance into Society and in undertaking this journey solely for the sake of fitting her out properly for the Queen’s Drawing Room.

  Elaine spent the greater part of the journey lost in her thoughts, which were still greatly agitated by the conversation she had had with her father the night before. She was acutely aware, as well, that by ceasing to repeat her protestations, she had tacitly allowed her aunt to suppose she was willing to rig herself out as well as Anne and to have a full Season herself. She was determined to correct this impression at the first opportunity, but felt, somewhat guiltily, that to initiate such a discussion while within the close confines of a traveling coach would perhaps not be very wise.

  Indeed the discovery of a few pound notes in the library had made no great impression on Lady Benton. Long accustomed to living entirely on credit, spending immense sums and directing the bills to be sent to her husband who then quietly discharged them as he saw fit, she had no comprehension of the world of careful economy inhabited by her nieces these past four years. Elaine’s qualms had seemed foolish and unnecessary. Most certainly the girl would marry. A significant beauty with a huge fortune – how could she fail? It was all mere missishness and fustian nonsense.

  Anne, on the other hand showed a much more becoming enthusiasm for the ventures ahead, and Lady Benton would have been very surprised to know that under her complaisant exterior that young lady too was struggling with troubled thoughts. As for herself, Lady Benton, felt no ambiguity whatsoever. She was never visited with self doubt when embarking upon one of her generous starts. If Lambert was truly about to die (and Lady Benton had her private doubts about that), well it was no less than her duty to get both girls married off as quickly as she could, before they were thrust into a long period of mourning which would preclude any but the simplest and most private of marriage ceremonies.

  It was most annoying, of course, to be forced to travel all cooped up in a carriage dawdling along in this miserable weather, but Lady Benton had made u
p her mind to be of good cheer and devote herself entirely to the well being of her dear nieces and so was eager to get all her various projects underway. “I do wish we had started when I originally planned,” she remarked once more to her dear nieces and was gratified at the thought that they could not help but appreciate the sacrifices she was about to make for their sakes. Lady Benton had decided that nothing would do for them but the very best.

  When they finally arrived at the Benton’s elegant townhouse in Berkley Square, the sisters were somewhat puzzled to find that despite all her protestations of missing the dear children during her few days’ absence, their hostess did not make haste to the schoolroom or the nursery to greet her adored progeny, but rather retired immediately to her private apartment, calling for a tisane to relieve her headache.

  The sisters were offered a light refreshment and then shown up to their rooms where they found that their bags had already been unpacked by the maid who would serve as abigail to both of them during their short stay. Their rooms were luxurious chambers side by side, recently redecorated in the Chinese style. Tall, heavily draped windows looked out over an exquisitely tended garden at the back of the house, where large terra cotta pots of late blooming flowers created spots of color along the tiled walkways. After a brief exploration of their finely appointed rooms, they sat down together in Elaine’s room before a well-stoked fireplace, and, comparing their various thoughts and speculations, laughed quietly together over the wonderful vagaries of human nature.

  “Dear Aunt Katherine was so anxious to escape to her chambers that I have a sudden dread that the children may be quite abominable,” remarked Anne.

  “Or that they were perhaps not pining so much for the company of their Mama as she would have us believe.”

  It had been some months since Elaine had really felt able to talk freely with her younger sister, so wrapped up had she been in her worries about money and desirous of protecting Anne from her fears and constraints, but now that she felt she at last had the means of securing the needed funds, she was able to be more relaxed and open in her conversation, which in turn led Anne to become expansive as well.

  “I did not realize until just this week, I had no idea, dear Laney, how very expensive a Season would be. I suppose I must not have been paying attention. I thought all our economies were for Papa and for Lynnfield. And indeed, I did not mind so very much, though I daresay you knew that I did not at all like missing out on the Thornburn’s garden party last year just because you felt we could not reciprocate their hospitality.”

  “Yes my dear, I did know it,” Elaine replied with a twinkle, “and it makes me wonder that you dare describe any one’s children as abominable.” For indeed Anne’s bitter lamentations at the missed treat had been heard throughout the Great House of Lynnfield for nearly a week.

  “I know I was abominable, and that is what I am trying to say, dear Laney. Will you forgive me for being so selfish and horrid? It completely Lowers me to realize that I behaved so very badly and went around for weeks afterwards absolutely Resenting you. For I knew you had had a splendid Season while Papa still had all his money, and it seemed to me so unfair that he should lose it before I had had my chance. And indeed I am so sorry for I realize that all that time when I was harboring Resentment and Envy, you were thinking only of me and of how to give me a splendid Season.”

  Elaine smiled at her sister, taking in her contrite little face, her hands clasped so tightly together in her lap, her hair shining so golden and red in the flickering firelight and her spirit so intent on making amends. She is very young, Elaine thought. She reached out with both hands and gently separated her sister’s hands, taking them into her own. “My dear Anne, you must not exaggerate your errors. It is not a virtue to indulge in self recrimination. Indeed, I have often found you a most cheerful support and have often thought how good you have been to be willing to work so hard selecting patterns and sewing all your gowns, when I could not help but know that you would have preferred to have your gowns ordered from a fine London dressmaker. And while I did practice economy with your Season in mind, it was not only of you that I thought, but also truly of Papa and of Lynnfield.”

  “But I thought you had forgotten me and didn’t care that I had to wear hand-me-downs and homemade gowns.”

  “Silly goose!” Elaine released her sister’s hands and sat back, smiling at her. “In any case, you will find that your homemade gowns will outshine many a dressmakers’ creation. Just wait and see.”

  “And will the money we found in the library really be sufficient for a Court dress?”

  “Well, I believe so, if we are not so very extravagant. And of course there may be quite a bit of money from the books we have brought to sell. But I must tell you, my dear, that I am all in a quake, for I am certain our Aunt will take exception to my determination not to deck myself out in a great deal of finery and stay the whole Season.”

  “Will you not stay and give me courage?”

  Elaine shook her head. “You will soon enough have a whole coterie of friends. I shall take you to meet my dearest Alicia this week, and you can be sure that she will keep you under her wing as long as you may choose. With her and our Aunt Katherine to tell you how you must go on, you will do very well. And you will have so many invitations and entertainments that you will not have a moment to spare in which to pine for me. And of course I shall write to you every day, and then once the Season is underway, if Papa’s health continues to hold, I shall come down for a week or two to see how you do.”

  “You don’t think I should stay at Lynnfield too, with Papa so ill?”

  “No, my dear. He will be much easier in his mind knowing that you are getting your Season.”

  “It is odd, isn’t it, that he seems to care so much after all those many years when it seemed that he hardly remembered us.”

  “Yes, but I think it is often that way with men who are, like our father, somewhat rakish, that as they grow older they begin to regret their missed opportunities and want to make amends. In any case, I know that is so for our Papa. And you know that he was always fond of us and used to bring us little presents whenever he came to Lynnfield.”

  “Yes, or at least he did when the luck was with him. We scarcely saw him when it was not.”

  “You remember that? Well, my dear, I think perhaps it was not so easy for him to be with us when he felt he was failing his children so badly. I am sure he always wanted the very best for us and perhaps even then felt ashamed when he could not provide it. Well, now, against all odds, he has contrived to give you one more present – the chance to make a splendid match.”

  Anne’s mind had moved back to her immediate future. “But Laney, what if I don’t make a Splendid Match?”

  “And what makes a match splendid?” Elaine asked. “If the gentleman’s fortune is no more than comfortable I will be pleased, so long as he loves you and you love him.”

  “But what if I find nobody at all? What if I don’t like anyone, or if no one wants me?” Anne asked anxiously.

  “Impossible! But even so, my dear, I don’t want you to feel that you must find a husband in just this one Season and so settle for someone whom you cannot like. No, if no one you meet suits you, then you will come back to Lynnfield. And when Papa dies, you will come with Libby and me to Bath. Bath may not be so fashionable as it once was, but there are still a good many people of the very best ton who go there each year if only to pay court to their elderly relatives who are taking the water there, and what with all the assemblies and concerts and parties, you will very soon find your husband there.”

  Anne, reassured thus, ventured one more question: “Laney, although you always say just what you ought, every time that you have mentioned Papa today, your eyes have sparked most alarmingly. Will you tell me what he has done to make you, who are usually so patient and calm, so…so very mifty at Papa?”

  And Elaine, caught by surprise and finding herself torn between laughter and tears, told her siste
r about their father’s latest scheme. “So now, once I have completed my present task of oversetting our Aunt Katherine’s plans for me to find a husband here in London, we shall return to Lynnfield where no doubt our odious cousin will all too soon be upon us to press his suit upon me. It is almost too much to bear when all I really want is a little peace and quiet so that I can enjoy my father’s company – that is if he doesn’t first drive me into such a rage that I end up strangling him.”

  A glance at the ormolu clock above the mantelpiece informed them that it was time to get ready for dinner, so they bestirred themselves and rang for their maid to come and give them assistance in changing.

  They sat down with their aunt and uncle to an elegant three course meal of turtle soup, buttered crab, pigeon pies, and a neck of veal, with side dishes of cauliflower and parsnip, and apricot tartlets to finish up. Elaine and Anne both immensely enjoyed this departure from the simple one course meals they had become accustomed to at Lynnfield. Lord Benton seemed genuinely glad to welcome his nieces to his table, saying that his wife would now be sure to enjoy the coming Season. Lady Benton, who had by now fully revived from the exertions of their tedious journey, was in good spirits at dinner, full of plans for the following day.

  Elaine was seated at the far end of the table, next to Lord Benton, and so was unable to address her aunt’s misapprehensions about the morrow until the ladies retired to the parlor after dinner. In all good conscience, she could not delay longer than that and so determined to make a clean breast of it.

  “I think while you and my sister are busying yourselves at the draper’s, I shall hire a hackney coach and go to call upon Mr. Thompson. May I take one of the maids, or a footman with me?”

  “Certainly you may take a footman with you when you go, to carry the boxes, and you will of course take my barouche, but that will not be tomorrow, for we will need you with us to select your fabrics and approve your sister’s choices.”