by Evie Grace
Chapter Seven
The White Cliffs of Dover
Violet realised that her prayers had been in vain when her father gave her an envelope addressed to her when he returned home the following evening.
‘Open it then,’ he said.
With trembling hands, she placed it on the side table in the hall, took the letter-knife from the drawer and slid it beneath the seal. She pulled out the slip of perfumed paper and let it unfold on her palm.
‘Mr Brooke requests the pleasure of Miss Violet Rayfield’s company for the afternoon of the last Saturday in July. Oh no, he wishes to walk out with me.’
‘What did you expect?’ Pa said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that he’d want to spend time in your company? Marriage is a serious proposition – he needs to be sure that you’re suited. Don’t worry – you’ll be chaperoned. I’ve prevailed upon your aunt and cousin to accompany you and your sisters on this outing, as your mother isn’t up to walking. They will be dining with us afterwards.’
The reality of the situation hit her between the eyes. She had a terrible headache and feared that she was going the same way as Mama. For an hour, she was convinced she was going to die, and she wasn’t scared because it seemed like the answer to her prayers. She had made a mistake, rushing headlong into courtship with a man she barely knew.
Saturday came all too soon. She took a long time to dress in her Sunday best, trying to delay the dreadful moment when she would have to walk with her suitor. She put on her dress over her corset, camisole and hoop skirt, and Eleanor fastened the back before choosing the sea pearls for her to wear around her neck.
‘I must have a bonnet with a large brim. I want to cover my face as far as possible.’
‘But Mr Brooke will want to look at you,’ Eleanor said.
‘I don’t want to be seen. I’ll be mortified if anyone we know recognises me.’
‘If you marry him, you’ll have to get used to it. He isn’t handsome, but he isn’t ugly either.’
That was true, Violet thought, feeling sick as she went down to meet the Rayfields’ guests in the hall.
‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ Mr Brooke said. ‘How wonderful to see you … Violet, it is a lovely day for a stroll around Dover, is it not?’
‘We will be accompanying you,’ Aunt Felicity cut in.
‘All of you? I’m deeply honoured to have the company of so many beautiful ladies.’ Aunt Felicity frowned as Mr Brooke offered Violet his arm. ‘I wish to see the sights, and’ – he lowered his voice – ‘become better acquainted with you, my dear.’
‘That would be most acceptable.’ Blushing, Violet stepped back, remembering Miss Whiteway’s lessons on the etiquette of courtship. Mr Brooke seemed to have no idea that there should be no physical contact between them before they were engaged. ‘Have you any preference for which route we take?’
‘I’ve visited the castle and the Western Heights,’ he said. ‘I wonder if we might walk up to the lighthouse, if everyone is in agreement?’
There were murmurings of assent before they set out from the house.
‘Perhaps we can lose our companions, if we go at a good pace,’ Mr Brooke whispered, his breath gusting with garlic and good humour.
Violet smiled at the idea of engaging in a little mischief.
‘Your father has said that you are not averse to my suit. Bon, très bon,’ he said, without waiting for her answer. ‘It’s a hindrance in Dover society not to be in possession of a beautiful wife, but I am getting ahead of myself. You are turning heads.’
‘You flatter me, sir,’ she said, but it was Mr Brooke who was attracting the attention for his eccentric way of walking and the oddness of his dress, as they strolled past the baths and turned left along Marine Parade. They must make a strange entourage, she felt.
They headed along East Cliff Terrace and passed the jetty before reaching the cliff path: she and Mr Brooke striding out, their hands behind their backs, with her sisters, Jane and Aunt Felicity trailing along behind. At the top of the white cliffs, they paused to admire the view of the town below them with the harbour and Admiralty Pier beyond.
‘I wish you’d slow down a little,’ Aunt Felicity gasped as she caught up with them, but they set out again, leaving her, Jane, Ottilie and Eleanor to catch their breath.
Violet and Mr Brooke passed Langdon Hole and made their way to the South Foreland lighthouse where they stopped again to gaze at the lantern on the top.
Mr Brooke mopped his brow. ‘If it wasn’t for this, I wouldn’t be at all happy about crossing the Channel – its light guides the boats past the Goodwin Sands and into the harbour.’
‘I’d forgotten that you are a regular traveller,’ Violet said, as the seagulls swooped and cried above them. In the distance, she could see Cap Gris-Nez, and a steam-packet’s foaming wake.
‘You have had no prior attachment?’ he asked suddenly.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, shocked. ‘What makes you ask?’
‘I saw how you danced with Mr Noble at the ball, and how your manner seemed to demonstrate some affection for him when he met with your father at the house to discuss his offer.’
‘I was sorry for him – I am sorry for him,’ she said emphatically. ‘He has suffered greatly. If my manner suggested anything other than sympathy, it wasn’t intended.’
‘Then your innocence is beyond doubt, your behaviour past reproach.’ Mr Brooke smiled. ‘Thank you, my dear. You have given me much encouragement today. Let’s amble back through the lanes, giving our companions the chance to keep up. Your father is expecting us for dinner.’
She wondered if she should have asked him about his history, not that it would make any difference to the path she had to tread. Whatever she had felt for William, it was too late. She was set above him, and her father had agreed to match her with a man whose frock coat smelled damp and fruity like an old cellar.
Aunt Felicity and Jane stayed on at the house in Camden Crescent, fearful for Mama’s health. Mr Brooke called late one afternoon the following week and Violet’s apprehension knew no bounds. She’d never been left on her own in the presence of a gentleman, let alone with the knowledge that his sole intent was to ask for her hand. She didn’t know what to say or how to behave when her father ushered him into the parlour and left him there with her.
‘Please don’t be nervous,’ Mr Brooke said. ‘I believe your father has mentioned my intentions.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, yes, he has.’
‘I expect he’s raised the subject of my financial security – as you know, I have a chateau in France, vineyards, cellars and an apartment in Paris, much more than a young lady such as yourself could imagine. You won’t need to concern yourself with making money, only spending it. I hope this will help you make your decision.’
I believe that we’re equal in consideration of wealth, and I scold you for assuming that my heart can be swayed by a disparity of fortune, was what she wanted to say to make herself seem worldly and sophisticated, but instead, she blurted out, ‘I wouldn’t marry anyone merely for his money.’
‘Ah, then you believe there must be some affection between husband and wife.’
‘I think so – for a marriage to be a success.’
‘I’ve heard it said that one of the great joys of marriage is getting to know one’s spouse, learning about their preferences and dislikes, and discovering what makes them happy. My dear Violet, I realise that we hardly know each other, but I hope that as time passes, we will reach that state of comfortable intimacy that comes with close acquaintance,’ Mr Brooke said. ‘I pray that you have no doubt about the constancy of my admiration for you.’
‘We have known each other but a few weeks,’ she said stiffly, and you wanted to marry my sister, she thought, her heart pounding as the reality of what she was about to do sank in. She still had time to change her mind, but the consequences were hard to contemplate.
‘I knew you were t
he one as soon as I set eyes on you,’ he went on.
‘Did you?’
‘Perhaps not immediately,’ he admitted. ‘What does it matter? It is the here and now that counts, and, Violet, be assured there is nothing I wish for more than for you to accept my hand in marriage.’ He sank to his knees in the parlour and reached up for her hands, squeezing them tight. ‘Will you marry me, my dear?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, frozen in fear. She felt no joy nor even relief that everything was settled, that she was engaged to a gentleman who could provide her with everything she could dream of, and that the Rayfields were financially secure. Her father and Mr Brooke would go forward as family and business partners, and one day, Ottilie and John would marry.
‘You have made me very happy.’ Smiling, he pulled himself up. ‘May I kiss you?’
She nodded, and he leaned in to her with his hands behind his back and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
‘Ah, I’ve made you blush.’ He chuckled. ‘Shall we go and announce our news? That you are to be the next Mrs Brooke.’
She frowned. ‘The next?’
‘After my mother, of course,’ he said. ‘I have a piece of Chantilly lace she would have wished you to wear at our wedding.’
‘Thank you.’ It was a romantic gesture which made her feel more warmly towards him, although she felt no passion.
‘Love will blossom between us – trust me.’ He took her by the hand. ‘My sole aim will be always to please you, my dear.’
‘And I will do my best to make you happy,’ she said.
Mama and Pa were so delighted, and Mr Brooke so attentive and kind that Violet began to feel better. Aunt Felicity and Jane congratulated them, and the servants were invited into the parlour to drink a champagne toast to the happy couple, and there was talk of setting a date for the wedding, and how many guests should be invited. Mama proposed that May should go with Violet and Mr Brooke to their new home, and Mr Brooke mentioned that they would rent a house in Dover, one larger and more suitable than the place he was currently renting.
‘It’s a fresh start,’ Pa kept saying.
‘It’s an event to take our minds off our troubles,’ Mama agreed.
‘Congratulations, Violet … and thank you,’ Ottilie said, giving her a hug before Eleanor took her aside to give her opinion about her future brother-in-law.
‘What does it mean that he can transfer his affections from one to the other so quickly? Don’t you yearn for a love match?’
‘I can learn to love him.’
‘Really? Oh well, I suppose he has a polite way of speaking, but he also has odd manners, bushy side whiskers and a generous beard in which one may find all kinds of unsavoury things.’
‘Oh, Eleanor,’ Violet laughed.
‘You will have to kiss him on your wedding night. There will be spiders and fleas, maybe even a whole live guinea fowl.’
Violet felt a little repulsed at the thought.
‘He often scratches his beard when he’s talking to Pa,’ Eleanor went on. ‘He’s doing it now. Look.’
Violet peered towards her fiancé. He had a lively look about him, and was charming to Mama and her sisters, but she knew very little about him. Did he wish to have lots of children? Where would they live? He’d mentioned renting a house in Dover, but would they spend time in France as well?
She overheard Pa as he shook Mr Brooke’s hand.
‘I know you’ll look after our daughter – in fact, I don’t look at it as losing her, but as gaining a son. Allow me to help you find a house – you will require somewhere to suit your standing.’
‘I have no particular requirements,’ he said. ‘I mean, love in a cottage would be delightful—’
‘Only if it were a very spacious cottage,’ Aunt Felicity cut in.
‘Love in a chateau would be far more enduring,’ Pa said with a chuckle.
‘Oh Mr Rayfield, don’t let him take her away from us,’ Mama exclaimed.
‘I have great respect for you and your illness, Mrs Rayfield. If I do whisk Violet away to France, it will be only for a few months here and there. I find that I prefer to live in Dover, but not for the weather. The winds are beastly, and I’ve never known so much rain, but the people are polite and refined.’
‘Have you any suggestion as to a date for the wedding?’ Pa asked.
‘I thought within two or three months – a longer engagement would be trying to me,’ Mr Brooke said. ‘Unfortunately, I’m booked to return to France on Monday next week, so I will have to let my delightful fiancée make the arrangements.’
‘You’re leaving so soon?’ Aunt Felicity enquired. ‘That is such a shame when you are newly engaged.’
‘It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid. I must be there for the harvest.’
He stayed for dinner before saying farewell, leaving Violet feeling confused. How was it that she was engaged to be married, yet she felt no different? She and her aunt helped Mama to bed because she had worn herself out. She left them talking, but hesitated outside the open door.
‘You will soon be better, restored to health?’ her sister said.
‘The doctor can’t give me any reassurance on that matter,’ Mama said sadly. ‘The headaches are bad when they come, but it’s the tingling I can’t bear. I feel this pricking in my hands and feet as if someone’s stabbing them with pins.’
‘I hope Sidney has paid for more than one opinion. I have a contact at a Harley Street clinic – we could make an appointment and spend a few days in London.’
‘Thank you, but I really don’t feel up to making the journey.’
‘Then Mr Rayfield can pay for a house call.’
‘I’m not sure that he will – he’s been making economies recently.’ Ma spoke frankly when she was with her sister, all manners and reserve cast aside.
‘Is he in some kind of trouble?’
‘He claims that all is well, but I can’t help worrying. I don’t think he’s happy and sometimes I wonder … well, I blame myself. This illness has been wearing me down and wrecking my looks. He doesn’t come to me at night any more … he hasn’t for a while.’
‘I expect he’s worried about his dear Violet being married off. I know I would be.’
She was aware that her aunt wasn’t impressed by her fiancé.
‘I don’t trust that man – he has a cast in his eye.’
‘Does he? I hadn’t noticed. Felicity, I think you are too determined to find fault in him.’
‘Why is he in such a hurry to marry her?’
‘Because he’s set his heart on her, and it isn’t hard to see why. She’s a rare beauty with her white-blonde hair and blue eyes.’
‘That’s all very well, but how does she feel about him? He’s almost twice her age and he reeks of garlic.’
‘You’re exaggerating! I confess I wasn’t sure about it at first – we hadn’t been long acquainted with Mr Brooke before he made the offer,’ Mama said. ‘Although he’s a little eccentric, it turns out that he’s quite charming and a gentleman of considerable means. Violet is very happy with the arrangement. What would you have done if he’d offered for Jane? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you would have turned the opportunity down? No, I thought not.’
Violet wished for her aunt’s approval, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Perhaps it was because she was envious of the Rayfields – after all, poor Jane was well on her way to being left on the shelf.
Later, Aunt Felicity called for her. She found her sitting up at the dressing table in the guest room.
‘You asked to see me,’ Violet said. ‘How is Mama?’
‘She’s exhausted, but I didn’t call you up here to talk about her. I wish to talk about you. I wanted to see how you feel about this situation with Mr Brooke. He is not the husband I would have chosen for any of my nieces, but I’m sure you can make a success of the marriage, with the right approach to it.’
Aunt Felicity seemed to have changed her attitude since her earlier conversation w
ith Mama. Perhaps she realised that this marriage was going to go ahead anyway, and they must all learn to live with it.
‘I’m looking forward to becoming a wife and having a household of my own,’ Violet said, ‘but I can’t help feeling that I wrong Mr Brooke, for I don’t feel any romantic attachment.’
‘It’s desirable but not essential in a marriage. You’ve read too many novels. Marriage is a deal, a transaction of youth and beauty, of feminine perfection for a husband’s support. Imagine if love came into it – it would be nigh impossible to organise a marriage, waiting for the whim of Nature, the wave of desire that is supposed to sweep one off one’s feet. Your mother was lucky to have a love match, but in my experience it’s very rare. Often, couples set out with little affection between them, until at the end they come to fear living without each other.’
Violet wondered if her aunt was talking about her own marriage – she had lost her husband from consumption two years after the birth of their only daughter.
‘I am disappointed,’ she confessed.
‘Life is filled with disappointments – and joys. You will manage your household and bear children. In fact, you will find you don’t have to spend that much time together. I don’t think I ever saw my husband for much more than an hour a week.’
‘In that case, I’d be very lonely. I don’t want that kind of marriage.’
‘Then you will do your best to make it work. You’ll run the house as Mr Brooke wishes, making sure to keep the domestic issues with staff and tradesmen to yourself so as not to bother him. There’s nothing a husband dislikes more than coming home after a long day to a tirade of niggles and anxieties. You will have observed, I hope – before your mother became unwell anyway – how she always puts her occupations aside upon your father’s return, greeting him with a smile and wearing fresh clothes.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ she said, thinking back to Miss Whiteway’s views which had been very different.
‘And then there is your duty in the bedroom … When you please your husband, you’ll find that he’ll be more cheerful and his character more malleable. Do you understand me?’
