There was a crash as the coffee cup he held dropped from his senseless fingers. Ignoring the broken shards on the floor he grasped her hands and exclaimed, “You wretched girl! Very well, if we must sink, we will do it together. I should have known better than to take the whole burden on myself. Will you marry me, Louisa?”
“Yes, thank you. Stephen, if . . . if I cannot get Press’s permission, will you wait for me, until I am old enough?”
“You know I will.” Mrs. Thomas appeared at the hall door with every intention of sweeping away the broken coffee cup, but he waved her away. "When shall I talk to him?”
“This evening. I will speak with him in the meantime. You . . . you really do want to marry me, don’t you? Nothing would be more repugnant to me than to force you. You have only to say.”.
.He regarded the vulnerable little face with a despairing shake of his head. “Where was this compliant miss when I needed her? Ah, my love, I want to marry you more than anything in the world.”
“That’s all right then,” she replied with a shaky smile. “I really must go. Mama thinks I’m shopping.”
“I think we should seal our bargain,” he protested, but Louisa pointed to the patient page, grinned and said, “Later.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lady Latteridge was in a quandary, not being able to decide which was the greater of two evils and not sure, either, that her son would carry out his threat. Since he had brought her home the previous evening against her protest, she supposed that he would, but she was placing some dependence on his not having considered the chaperonage of Louisa. Surely he would not wish to be burdened with the girl, and only by her remaining could he have any freedom. The Dowager wished to stay in York, but she would find it almost impossible to write the suggested letter of apology.
A few minutes before he was due at Miss Findlay’s, the earl tracked his mother down to the back parlor where he found her idly staring out the window at the small garden. “Good morning, Mother. I trust you are feeling well. Have you decided which it is to be?”
Her face was a cold mask. “I intend to stay in York and I have no intention of apologizing for my behavior.”
Latteridge languidly seated himself in a chair opposite her, pressing his hands together meditatively. “My responsibilities as head of the family are a matter I do not take lightly. I think, even aside from my own involvement in the matter, I would find your treatment of Miss Findlay disgraceful. But let me clarify something for you, Mother. I am going now to ask her to marry me.” Two bright spots of angry color appeared on his mother’s cheeks but she said nothing. “You have put Miss Findlay in a position where she may not accept my offer. Her scruples are a great deal finer than they ought to be, I fear. But if she will have me, there is no question that we will marry, and that, I have no need to tell you, will put you in a very awkward position.”
“You’re mad! I wouldn’t live in the same house with her for thirty seconds.”
“I wouldn’t let you, Mother. I doubt even the dower house is far enough removed to protect her from your scorching hatred. The estate in Dorset would seem a natural choice for your comfort, or even a town house in London. I regret the necessity, but you leave me very little choice.”
“What about Louisa? I am just beginning to bring her to Lord Bowland’s notice.”
“Oh, I think there was no need for you and Miss Horton to work so hard at that. He would have heard the size of her dowry in time.”
“Are you saying the man is a fortune hunter?”
“Certainly. One has only to watch his nose quiver when he’s in the vicinity of an heiress.”
“Well, what are you going to do about Louisa?”
“I really don’t know. It will depend on what Miss Findlay has to say, and what Louisa wishes. I’m perfectly happy to see to her care.”
“So I am to be driven out of my home and deprived of my daughter so that you can marry a ruined woman! Is that how you see your responsibility as head of the family?” Her voice rose to a pitch of fury matched by the hammering of her fist on the chair arm.
“Mother, you know perfectly well that you would have to move to the dower house, no matter who I took as a wife. And as for Louisa, there is no reason you should not see as much of her as she wishes.” A long, exasperated sigh escaped him. “Why must you persist in this fruitless persecution of Miss Findlay? Is it so very difficult to acknowledge that you were wrong?”
“I am never wrong."
Latteridge rose and sadly regarded her implacable countenance. “Very well, Mother. When I return, I will escort you to Ackton Towers, where you can wallow in self-righteousness from morning to night without causing the innocent any grief.”
“I am not leaving York.”
"Then you had best look for lodgings. You are not staying in my house, and I think your acquaintances here would find that very strange.”
“Perhaps I shall go to France,” she said defiantly.
“We are at war with France, Mother.”
The proudly erect head bowed and Latteridge went to put his arm about her shoulders. “Poor Mother. Do you know that we all love you, that my father loved you? You don’t have to be perfect for your family to be attached to you. We can accept your mistakes, if you are willing to own them. Lord knows we all have enough we have to forgive ourselves. You have been the solid foundation of our family, the permanent fixture we could all rely on to be there when Father was away. But you have never admitted that it was your Jacobite sympathies which drove him into exile, and you will not confess that you treated Miss Findlay most shamefully.”
“She could never forgive me now.”
“Perhaps not, but that is not to say you should not offer an apology. Strangely enough, Mother, it becomes simpler after the first.”
“I haven’t so many errors to confess.”
“Haven’t you?” He grinned and pressed her hand. “Do you feel you could write a note to Miss Findlay?”
“I suppose so,” she grumbled. “Will you want to read it?”
Latteridge pursed his lips. “No, I shall depend on you not to disgrace me."
* * * *
As the minutes ticked away and it became a quarter past twelve, Marianne began to have doubts as to his coming after all. He was invariably prompt, not a minute late for any of their scheduled rides. Perhaps it was for the best, though she would have liked to speak with him about Louisa, at least. Mr. Deighton was detailing for Aunt Effie the characters and locations of his dispersed children, but Marianne could not seem to pay any attention to the conversation which so absorbed her aunt.
The knocker sounded at precisely twelve-thirty, when Marianne had long since given up hope, and it occurred to her that it might not be the earl at all, but one of their other friends. When the tall, handsome figure strolled into the room and his gray eyes met hers, she swallowed painfully and stepped forward without thinking to offer her hand.
“Forgive me for being late, Miss Findlay. I was delayed at the last moment, but hopefully to good purpose.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, something he had never done before. After a few words of greeting to Miss Effington and Mr. Deighton, he said, “I should like to speak alone with you, if I might. Shall we take a walk?”
Marianne was not at all sure that her legs would support her through such an interview and, to her aunt’s astonishment, suggested that they talk in the dining parlor. If Aunt Effie had intended to protest, one glance at Mr. Deighton determined her otherwise. “Oh, very well. We’ll be right here.”
The sun was streaming through the windows onto the polished mahogany table, and the last of the autumn flowers made colorful patches in the garden beyond. It was the only one of their rooms which was completely furnished, with a full set of matching chairs, newly covered, a sideboard flanked by two pedestals, a knife box, and a wine waiter. Marianne motioned him to the chair at the head of the table.
“I would prefer the window seat, if you don’t mind.”
/>
“Of course, if you wish.” Glancing skeptically at the minimal seat, she thought for both of them to sit there it would be almost impossible not to be touching. She found that it was impossible.
“As I said in my note, there are several matters I would like to discuss with you. Are you uncomfortable?” he asked as she tried vainly to squeeze further away.
“Not at all.”
“Good. Let’s dispose of the simpler matter first. Louisa intimated that you supported her wish to marry Dr. Thorne. She said she had confided in you. I had hoped she would give me an opportunity to explain my reasons for separating them, but I suppose she could very well imagine them, as I am sure you do. Do you indeed think it would be wise for her to marry him?”
“Perhaps not from your point of view, but, yes, I think it would. You see, Lady Louisa explained to me not only how she feels about him as a man, but as a doctor. She’s not like most girls her age, looking for a comfortable position, financially and socially. I think that would not be quite enough for her. Of course one can never fully comprehend the sacrifices involved until one has experienced them, but Lady Louisa is fired with an enthusiasm to be a part of Dr. Thorne’s dedication to his work” Marianne made a futile gesture. “I’m no better at explaining it than she was, I’m afraid. She feels that Dr. Thorne is a missing part of her, necessary to make her whole, and she finds his work a benefit rather than a drawback. I don’t think that particular attitude will change as she grows older and sees more of society. She is only likely to become more confirmed in it as she witnesses the trivialities of a social life.”
Latteridge sat very still listening to her earnest attempt to explain Louisa’s motivations, the sunlight catching only the highlights of her features as she sat turned slightly toward him. He was tempted to trace the line of her jaw with his finger, the skin looked so smooth and clear. “She’s never been frivolous, though she has a delightful sense of humor. Don’t you think, though, that she might find some worthy peer, who took a special interest in politics or agriculture or the like who could appeal to her?”
“I suggested as much, and all I can say is that she convinced me that it would never be the same again. You’ve seen them together. They have a sort of magical understanding of one another, and I truly believe that she isn’t the least concerned with the things that you or I or Dr. Thorne think should alarm her. It’s not as though they will be poverty-stricken or entirely abandoned by the ton. Lady Louisa is a charmer, and she is likely to be in demand whether she marries a professional man or not. There is, of course, the possibility that she will not stand up well to the more gruesome aspects of his calling.”
He shook his head mournfully. “No such luck, I fear. You should have seen how cool she was when he treated Harry’s sword wound.”
“Sword wound?”
“Harry’s ‘accident’ was a duel. The poor devil caught one of his friends cheating at cards and was so shocked that he let it be known. Lord, how trying it is to be young! So you think it is useless to hope Louisa will recover sufficiently from this attachment to find someone who suits her as well?”
“Yes. I’m sorry if it grieves you,” Marianne said gently.
“Oh, it doesn’t really grieve me, though Mother will take a great deal more convincing, I fear. I suppose I have known all along that it had gone too far, which was partially my own fault. Just the other day I was thinking that it seemed almost impudent to interfere, they are so perfectly in accord. And the devil of it is, I like Thorne tremendously.” His fingers tapped absently on his leg in a motion she had seen before when he was deep in thought. “Well, I shall give them my blessing."
“Lady Louisa is concerned that she hasn’t actually been asked.”
Latteridge laughed. “She’s a determined little puss; I don’t doubt she’ll find a way to get him to propose, but if not, I’ll speak with him.”
They were silent for a while, Latteridge watching her face and Marianne steadfastly staring at the carved wooden knife box. He observed, “William seemed to think that Mr. Deighton wished to carry your aunt off with him.”
“Yes, she’s agreed. He’s an old beau, you know.”
There was an awkward pause, since he really had no intention of asking her if she planned to go with them, or what she did intend to do. He stood and walked to the table, straightened a chair and returned to stand in front of her. “I don’t know why this should be so difficult, except that I have the feeling you’re prepared to refuse me. I can see it is those gloriously expressive eyes. Do you know they were what first attracted me to you? On the way home from the river that day your smile seemed to dance back and forth between them and your lips. Not that your lips are any less appealing, you know.
“Really, Lord Latteridge,” she said, flushing, “I must protest.”
“It is perfectly all right to quibble on the small matters, if you will only allow me my way on the most important. If you have not surmised my errand, I am come to induce you to marry me. Please,” he hastened to add, holding up an admonitory hand, “don’t say anything just yet. You must allow me to present my case before you say anything rash. I can think of any number of reasons for you to turn me down, and I intend to dispose of them one by one. Will that do?”
His eyes were suspiciously merry but Marianne was too tightly drawn to respond in kind. “I’m afraid you couldn’t, sir. Don’t think I’m not honored. I . . ."
“Please. A few minutes should suffice. Won’t you spare me such a small segment of your time? I’ve allowed you as much in Louisa’s defense.”
“I . . . . For your own sake. .
“Good. Now, where shall I start? With your reputation, I think, since it seems to most upset you. I am not in the least concerned with it, my dear. As my wife you would find that any rumblings ceased. There is nothing quite so respectable as marrying a title, you know, and I think I do not delude myself that I am more than a match for any of the gossips. In fact, I would be very put out if you refused me on the grounds of your reputation being a handicap to me; that would indicate you have insufficient faith in my social prowess.”
“Heaven forbid I should so slight you,” she murmured.
“Precisely. Now we should consider my brother and sisters. All three, I know, would be delighted with the match. Louisa already knows my intention; Susan was aux anges with my . . . ah . . . carefully worded impression of you. Harry is already your devoted servant. He, by the by, has decided to keep himself out of trouble by forming a partnership of sorts with your Mr. Geddes for the promotion of the various inventions. That leaves only Mother.”
“Only . . ."
Latteridge thrust his hand in a pocket and withdrew a sealed sheet. “This, I hope, will make some amends for her treatment of you. Of course, there is the chance that she has not kept her word, but I have placed my trust in her. Her trouble is an inability to admit fault, not an uncommon failing, but unfortunately carried to an extreme. And an almost definitive sense of pride. Still, she has many excellent qualities, which very few people have observed, I know, but they are there all the same.”
Unable to force her shaking hand to reach for the sheet, Marianne allowed him to break the seal and hold it for her, so that she could read it but he could not. It was not a particularly long message but it caused her throat to ache and her eyes to shine with unshed tears.
“Is it . . . adequate?” he asked, alarmed by her emotion.
Marianne took the sheet, folded it and slipped it in the bosom of her gown. “More than adequate.”
Relieved, he reseated himself beside her and could not resist asking, “I think we are making excellent progress, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There is no need to say anything as yet, my dear. I had intended, before Mr. Deighton arrived, to suggest that your aunt live with us, but obviously that is out of the question now. Though you will miss her, I cannot but believe you are pleased for her. Do you think she would object to your marr
ying me? Perhaps my mother’s note will provide some solace to her.”
“She wouldn’t object, anymore.”
"Then there are, as I see it, only two objections which can possibly remain. I have written to your father to advise him of my desire to address you. Of course, there was no reason to expect him to reply and you are under no legal or moral obligation to have his permission, considering his treatment of you. And I cannot say that I wrote him out of anything more than courtesy, which is hardly owing him. However . . .“ He paused at her bleak expression and took her hand. “However, this morning I had a letter from him.”
Her startled eyes flew to his. “Is he well?”
“Apparently he is suffering from the gout at present, but it sounds a temporary ailment, though periodic for him. His permission is granted for the match, which he expects you will not be so foolish as to reject,” he told her ruefully, holding fast to her hand when she attempted to withdraw it. “Also, he promises to settle the estate on you and your children and to grant the dowry which he had proposed if you had married your cousin. You might like to read his letter to me, but most assuredly you will wish to read that addressed to you.”
He dug again in his pocket and handed her the slim, sealed missive before rising and walking to the other end of the room where he stayed some time with his back to her. When he heard the rustle of her skirts he turned to find her approaching him, a smile on her lips. “And is your father’s letter . . . adequate?”
“Yes.”
“And you are satisfied with the arrangements he would make for a dowry?”
“Yes.”
“They aren’t necessary, you know, but I’m glad they ease your mind. Now, Marianne, to my way of thinking there can be but one remaining objection.”
“And what is that?”
"That you do not, and feel you never could, love me. Before I met you I was intrigued by the things I heard about you. When I met you I was beguiled by your resourcefulness, your sense, and your unusual feeling for the absurd. As I have come to know you . . . well, I could list the virtues which I cherish, but that wouldn’t really explain why I feel as I do, would it? I can only tell you that I love you, have loved you practically from the moment we met, and I want to share the rest of my life with you.”
The Lady Next Door Page 21
