An Unsuitable Match

by Sasha Cottman

  She dared not look at Lady Alice, fervently hoping that her grandmother would say nothing untoward.

  ‘That he did,’ Lady Alice added.

  The other girls dipped into a curtsy to the dowager countess, who acknowledged them with a small nod.

  ‘So when did you grow some apples?’ Heather asked, staring at Clarice’s bustline. Susan rolled her eyes.

  ‘She didn’t. She had them made by a dressmaker. Anyone can see that the bodice of her dress has been specially cut. I hear you have been seen about town with the Radley women; pray tell, Clarice; when did I become superfluous to your needs?’

  A flash of heat raced up Clarice’s neck and her cheeks turned bright red. She had abandoned Susan and was now getting her just reward.

  ‘Now, now, young lady. As it so happens I am a good friend of the Duchess of Strathmore, and Clarice, being the doting granddaughter that she is, has spent most of the week assisting me. No-one is casting anyone off,’ said Lady Alice.

  She lifted her wooden walking stick an inch up off the floor and pointed the end toward Susan. The warning was clear.

  ‘I do beg your pardon, Lady Alice,’ Susan replied.

  Clarice looked at the walking stick. How odd it was that earlier in the day her grandmother had been moving freely about the house without the need for it. Yet as soon as they were out in public, it suddenly reappeared. She looked up and met her grandmother’s innocent gaze.

  One good turn deserved another.

  ‘Be a sweet dear, Clarice, and help me to find a comfortable chair in the shade. You can spend time with your friends later.’

  Clarice frowned. Her plans had included spending time with Susan to please her father, but it was clear Lady Alice had other ideas. Her grandmother began to hobble away toward a pair of open French doors that led out onto the huge green lawn.

  Susan’s eyebrows rose and fell. ‘Well, I am certain you and your grandmother have lots to talk about. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon keeping her company.’

  ‘Clarice!’

  ‘Coming, Grandmother,’ she said and hurried after Lady Alice.

  ‘Over there,’ Lady Alice said, pointing to a pair of garden chairs with large well-stuffed cushions on them. She made a great show of the effort it took for her to sit down, eliciting sympathetic glances from other guests.

  For the next hour Clarice sat beside her grandmother and listened as Lady Alice told her stories of garden parties from her youth.

  ‘. . . it was absolutely scandalous and of course they had to marry,’ Lady Alice said with a wicked laugh. Clarice shook her head. Her grandmother had seen and heard a great deal of gossip over the years.

  ‘And you were there?’

  Lady Alice sat back in her garden chair and surveyed the guests around them; no-one was within earshot.

  ‘Who do you think told her brother where to find them?’

  Clarice’s eyes grew wide. ‘No!’

  A wicked grin was all the answer she got.

  ‘Lady Alice, Lady Clarice, how wonderful to see you. We were beginning to worry you were not in attendance.’

  From the door closest to them, Lucy and Millie Radley appeared. Clarice smiled; from the looks on their faces they were pleased to have finally run their quarry to ground.

  Lady Alice motioned for a nearby footman to bring more chairs and soon a merry gathering had formed.

  They were in the middle of a lively discussion regarding Alex and Millie’s proposed honeymoon, when Lucy put down her cup of tea and suddenly clasped her hands together. ‘Speaking of exciting news, isn’t it marvellous that David has been given his own estate? It’s absolutely wonderful; don’t you think so, Clarice?’

  She cast a none-too-subtle look in Millie’s direction, and Clarice stifled a snort. Lucy had spent the better part of the past five minutes casting furtive glances at her new sister-in-law, clearly waiting for the moment when she could change the subject.

  ‘Yes, well, it is high time that he had his own place. And now that Alex has married, I expect David’s thoughts will soon turn to finding himself a bride. With a well-run estate to his name, his chances in the marriage market should be somewhat elevated,’ Millie replied. The sly smile that formed on her lips betrayed her otherwise cool demeanour.

  Clarice gave the expected smile in response, but failed to muster any hope. Knowing her father, it would not matter if the Duke of Strathmore had given his son the island of Java. Her father had made his opinion clear on the subject of who was and was not good enough to marry his daughter. David Radley was not for his beloved Clarice.

  How can you define a person by someone else’s actions? It’s not as if David made the decision to be born out of wedlock.

  ‘You should see how he has been since he returned to London; it is like a hundred birthdays and Christmases have come all at once. And he is forever making lists and asking questions of Papa,’ Lucy exclaimed.

  Millie wore a self-satisfied grin. It was her dowry money that had enabled the Duke of Strathmore to buy his eldest son an estate.

  ‘Where did you say it was?’ replied Clarice. David had made mention of his new estate at the ball, but her mind had been elsewhere. Her memories of that night consisted mainly of the strong grip of his hands and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. That, and the powerful way he had spun her so effortlessly around the dance floor.

  ‘Sharnbrook, a few miles north of Bedford. Which Alex informs me is somewhere over there,’ Millie replied and pointed her gloved hand in a north-westerly direction.

  Lady Alice nodded her agreement. ‘Lovely place, Bedford, and so close to London. Nothing worse than those long trips up and down the country from far-flung estates. Poor Clarice is a terrible traveller; the rolling motion of the carriage plays havoc with her stomach.’

  She gave her grandmother a weary look.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ continued Lady Alice, ‘I need to go and lie down if I am going to make it through the rest of the day. A huge breakfast is never a good idea. One would think that by my age I would have learnt that lesson.’ She ignored Clarice’s discomfort.

  Clarice stood and offered her grandmother a supporting arm, but Lady Alice waved her away. ‘No, I’m fine. I shall get one of the footmen to escort me upstairs; you stay here and spend time with your friends.’

  The girls rose and farewelled the dowager.

  As soon as she was gone, they pulled their chairs closer together and ordered more refreshments.

  ‘I do so love your new gown, Clarice; you look wonderful. And that cameo is so beautiful; is it a family piece?’ Millie said. The grin that both she and Lucy wore on their faces was an obvious reflection of their happiness in having got Clarice out of her drab clothing.

  ‘Thank you. Yes, the brooch was my mother’s,’ Clarice replied.

  She looked down at the pretty pattern on her dress. Lifting her feet, she looked at the delicate white ribbons that crisscrossed her half boots.

  She looked and felt wonderful.

  ‘Oh, so you did order a pair of those. Aren’t they the kick?’ Lucy asked. She lifted her feet and showed her half boots to be of exactly the same design, only in a different colour to Clarice’s.

  Millie laughed. ‘Lucky for me that I didn’t wear either of the two pairs I ordered.’ She lifted her skirt to show a pair of dark blue slippers with little bells on them.

  ‘I didn’t see those!’ Lucy exclaimed.

  Millie raised her eyebrows and wagged a finger in Lucy’s direction. ‘You need to ask to see Madame’s special orders, including her wedding-night pieces,’ she replied.

  Lucy’s eyes grew wide before she dissolved into a fit of giggles. Millie was deliciously wicked. Millie and Clarice joined in the mirth and soon all three were wiping tears from their eyes.

  A shadow passed over them and darkened the space between Clarice and Lucy. Clarice ceased laughing and quickly looked up. Standing there, blocking out the sun, was Thaxter Fox. Clarice’s happy mood evaporat
ed.

  He was attired in a smart black redingote, pale grey trousers and a sage-green waistcoat. She frowned as she thought of her father’s money being spent on Mr Fox just to enable him to look the part of a future earl. Then, remembering her own substantial wardrobe outlay, she forced a smile to her lips.

  Don’t be a hypocrite.

  He bowed to her. ‘I must apologise for my tardiness; the tailor only finished my new jacket this morning. What do you think, Lady Clarice? Does it meet with your approval? And how clever of you to choose a dress with the same colour green in it as my waistcoat. I am touched that you went to such an effort for us to be a matching pair.’

  She gave an embarrassed nod.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy’s eyebrows lift. At the same time, Millie coughed.

  Thaxter turned and paid his respects to the others. ‘Lady Lucy, a pleasure to once again make your acquaintance. If you recall we were seated four chairs away from each other at a recent party. You asked me to pass the salt.’

  Lucy looked down at her hands, and Clarice held her breath. They had met before and social custom dictated she offer him her hand.

  ‘Why yes; Mr Fox, is it not? How observant of you to remember such an auspicious occasion,’ she replied, and offered him her gloved hand.

  He placed the merest of kisses on her fingertips before she withdrew her hand. He turned to Millie, and Clarice saw him make a quick study of her friend’s face. The diamond and pearl in Lady Brooke’s nose matched the cream underskirt of her dress. A hint of disapproval was reflected in his half-blink.

  ‘Lady Brooke, may I offer my sincere congratulations on your recent nuptials. To marry into such an elevated station must truly warm your mother’s heart.’

  Millie’s sapphire-blue eyes flashed open in obvious shock, but to her credit, Clarice noted, she maintained her composure. With both her grandsires being titled men, Millie had married well within her social level.

  ‘I’m sorry, but have we been introduced? I don’t recall having ever set eyes upon you before, sir, because I am certain that if I had I would not forget such an interesting face,’ she bit back.

  Before Thaxter had a chance to speak, Millie leaned forward and picked up her cup of tea. She sipped it slowly as silence reigned among the group.

  Thaxter cleared his throat and Clarice felt his gaze fix upon her. There was no escape; social niceties must be observed.

  ‘Lady Brooke, may I present Mr Thaxter Fox of Whitby, Yorkshire. Mr Fox is a distant relative of mine, but by chance of his birth he has recently become heir to my father’s title and estate,’ she said. A wary look formed on Millie’s countenance as she looked Thaxter up and down. It was obvious his handsome looks and well-cut clothing had not escaped her notice. She sucked in a breath.

  ‘Well then, Mr Fox, we both have fortune to thank for our future successes,’ she said.

  Clarice looked to Lucy, who looked utterly enthralled at the exchange. Thaxter sniffed the air and gave a nod of his head. ‘As you say, Lady Brooke, a fortunate life.’

  He turned and offered Clarice his hand. ‘I came to collect you, Lady Clarice. I believe you and I have an arrangement to eat a spot of luncheon together. Your father would be most displeased if we did not keep to our promise. I understand Lady Alice is indisposed, but since your father approved of our appointment, it should not present a problem for you and I to fulfil our social obligations.’

  She looked at his brown leather glove. When she didn’t immediately accept his hand, he pushed it closer to her face.

  ‘Lady Brooke, Lady Lucy, would you please excuse us?’ he said as Clarice took his hand with great reluctance.

  He pulled her gently to her feet and gave a self-satisfied nod of his head. Thaxter Fox had won the first round.

  Lucy and Millie watched as Clarice and Thaxter walked towards a series of long tables that held all manner of cakes and sandwiches.

  ‘What an odious, self-righteous prig of a man,’ Lucy muttered as she watched them leave.

  ‘Don’t forget dangerous,’ Millie replied.

  Lucy scowled. ‘What do you mean?’

  Millie shook her head. ‘I saw the look he gave Clarice when she told us that he was her father’s heir. I’ve seen that proprietary look before in men’s eyes; my own husband gets it every time another man offers to dance with me. I would be less concerned if Mr Fox were not so devilishly handsome. If he begins to work his charms on poor Clarice, David’s cause may be in vain. Gather up your things, dear sister; we need to go and find our brother. Because if I am not mistaken, David has a serious rival on his hands.’

  She rose up from the chair and fixed her gaze on the back of Thaxter Fox’s head. ‘I think it is time we put our plan in motion. If we don’t make haste, Clarice may be pressured into giving her hand in marriage to that man. Pleasant looks and all, I don’t like the way he deals with her.’

  There was only one thing that David disliked more than opera, and it was garden parties. At least at evening events he could steal away into the garden or terrace to smoke. At a ball he could get a drink of something alcoholic. At Lady Brearley’s party, only the older gentleman were permitted to hide themselves away from the guests and partake of whiskey and cigars.

  The younger set, which included him and his siblings, were expected to play outdoor games or sit in comfortable chairs and make polite conversation. While he and Alex were both accomplished players of pall-mall, David never played unless he was compelled.

  ‘How long do you think we will have to stand here like fools until Millie and Lucy locate Clarice?’ he said.

  Alex shrugged his shoulders. ‘I am not about to try to anticipate the actions of my wife or our sister; they are the masters of the garden party domain. We should just take our time to mingle with the other guests, have a spot of something to eat and wait. Unless, of course you fancy being beaten yet again at pall-mall.’

  David kicked away a loose stone on the garden path that led down to the ornamental lake and summerhouse. With so much time spent on paperwork for his new estate, his patience for proceeding slowly with Clarice was being sorely tested.

  ‘Oh, all right, but no cheating this time, otherwise you may find yourself going for a swim in that lake.’

  Alex gave a friendly wave in David’s direction and laughed. ‘I don’t need to cheat to best you, dear brother.’

  It was almost an hour later by the time Lucy and Millie sought them out.

  ‘About time,’ David snapped. He had lost three games to Alex and his mood was beginning to darken. The stab wound in his side bit painfully every time he wielded the mallet.

  Millie and Lucy both ignored his display of temper.

  ‘Yes, well, time is something that you may not have. Thaxter Fox is here and Clarice is sharing a picnic with him on the west lawn,’ Lucy replied.

  ‘What?’ the men replied.

  Millie nodded. ‘Apparently Lord Langham wants Clarice to help Mr Fox navigate his way through the rocky shoals of London society. I wouldn’t be so concerned about that if I hadn’t heard rumours that he is in the market for a wife. If you list all of Clarice’s attributes, including her dowry and family ties, she is likely to be at the top of his list. And after seeing the way she let him drag her away from us this afternoon, I am concerned she will take the path of least resistance and agree to marry him.’

  ‘You have to do something, David!’ Lucy cried.

  He held up a hand and the look he gave his sister was enough for her to fall silent.

  ‘Calm down. I would have thought you had more faith in me than that. You didn’t think I came here unprepared, did you?’

  In the boxing saloon, Thaxter Fox had already shown his hand. He was prepared to be underhanded to win Clarice. David looked at his siblings and smiled. Mr Fox might have his sly ways, but he didn’t have the resources of the Radley family at his disposal.

  ‘I have a plan, and you all need to play your parts exactly as I say.’

>   ‘This looks like as good a spot as any; shall we sit?’ Thaxter asked.

  He pointed the laden plate he held in the direction of a rug spread out on the garden lawn.

  ‘Yes, though if it gets too hot we may need to move back toward the terrace,’ Clarice replied. She had hoped that Lady Alice would have returned by now and joined them. Her grandmother’s forthright manner was just what the situation needed.

  Thaxter took hold of her gloved hand and helped her to sit. After setting the plate down, he took a seat next to her. She shuffled further away from him.

  ‘Bother,’ he said, frustrated, and clearly unused to using such timid language.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘We should have got tea.’

  She shook her head. ‘I am not that partial to tea myself, but if you like I shall wait here with the food until you get some.’

  He gave her a friendly smile. ‘Back shortly,’ he said and got to his feet.

  While she waited for Thaxter to reappear, Clarice rearranged her skirts and tilted the tip of her bonnet down to shade her face from the sun. She had been so preoccupied with her new attire that she had left her parasol under a garden chair. Getting up from the rug unassisted presented some difficulty, so she decided to stay put. If, at some point, she needed a break from Thaxter, she would ask him to retrieve her parasol.

  ‘Would you mind taking this from me?’ he asked upon his return with a hot cup of tea. She took the cup and saucer from him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as she handed it back to him, once he had resumed his seat.

  ‘A lot of messing about just to have a drink and a sandwich,’ Clarice replied.

  A sigh of annoyance escaped Thaxter’s lips. ‘I forgot to get you a drink. I really am a country bumpkin.’

  She laughed and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  Why on earth did I just do that? And in public. Don’t fall for his feeble charms, Clarice.

  ‘Forgive me for being overly familiar,’ she said, her face turning red.

  He reached out and took hold of her hand. ‘That is perfectly all right, Lady Clarice. In fact, I appreciate your concern. As you can see I struggle with the nuances of polite society. Which reminds me, I must beg your humble pardon for the cack-handed way I took hold of your hand at the ball the other night. It was most impolite of me to address you in such a way. I seem to find myself constantly tripping up and making mistakes.’