Marrying Money: Lady Diana's Story

by Glenys O'Connell

  I was actually flattered to see that my new friend's brow was definitely less furrowed and he was much more relaxed. I, Diana, Lady Ashburnham, had cheered up another member of the human race! I was feeling so good about myself, until a pack of marauding wolves - actually Cousin Mairead and her entourage - bore down on me with distinct huffing and puffing.

  “There you are, Diana Darling!” Mairead said, making it sound as though Miss Darling was my name. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you! Sally, poor dear, is just exhausted from all the photographs and interviews and well-wishers, and she's ready to drop. I thought we'd get you two home to your hotel in a taxi. James, unfortunately, isn't available. Then all of us will get together tonight at Richard and my new house. You haven't been since we built out at Wicklow, have you? You'll just love the place, and don't bother getting anything to eat, we're laying on a scrumptious buffet.”

  I thought I was going to drown under the barrage of words, but then I caught sight of Sally, making 'please rescue me' faces from behind Mairead's skinny back. She really did look worn out, almost as if the new diamond and gold necklace was weighing her down, and I relented.

  “Okay, I'll help Sally get sorted out at the hotel, and we'll be at your place later this evening,” I said, standing. Bill stood politely, too.

  “If you're going back into town, I can offer you a lift to your hotel,” my new friend said. “It’s no bother at all, really.”

  Mairead fixed him with a gimlet stare, and I thought for a sinking moment she was going to ask him if his intentions were honourable. But all that came out was an 'umph' that could have meant anything.

  “That’s so sweet of you,” I said to him, trying to make up for my cousin's rudeness. Turning back to her, I said: “Give me the address of your new place, Mairead; we'll get a taxi out to your place.” Heaven help me, I’d no idea how much a taxi fare was from Galway to Wicklow, or I'd probably have swooned on the spot.

  Mairead squinted furiously, as if the new house being called a 'place' was not proper. Looking as if she’d just sucked on a lemon, she turned to Bill. “You may have heard that we're having an after race party this evening, and it's being dedicated in honour of Diana's dear friend Sally, who was awarded the prize for Ladies' Day. Perhaps you'd like to join us, and as you'd be passing their hotel on the way, you'd bring Diana and Sally, too?”

  I was sending please say yes, please say yes, signals to Bill.

  He looked hesitant, obviously caught my pleading looks, and drew in a deep breath before saying yes, sure, we'll make all the arrangements, you don't worry about a thing, Mairead.

  I wanted to hug the man, which I shouldn't have wanted to do, because I was husband hunting and I was getting the impression that, in Mairead's eyes, Bill was not suitable husband material. Not for someone of 'our' class.

  “Thank you, it's very kind of you, but I don't want to put you to any trouble,” I lied. “I’m sure Sally and I can get a taxi...”

  Of course, I wouldn’t have offered if I'd known how much a taxi from Galway to Wicklow would cost.

  “No, no, I wouldn't hear of it, not when you're visiting Ireland for the first time...I'd like you to get a good impression,” he said. I wasn't sure whether he meant a good impression of the country or of him.

  I found the man very attractive and that wouldn’t do, not at all. I had no time for a dalliance when I was looking for a solution to Alexandria House's financial troubles. I was going to have to give myself a severe talking to if this went on. But I still I had to admit, I was looking forward to spending an evening with Bill. Certainly, it made the prospect of several hours being shown off by Mairead a bit more palatable.

  “Do you have any more relatives like that Mairead?” Sally demanded to know as we checked out our new hotel room, or broom closet, if you were being really honest. “She ignored me and treated me like hired help until I won the Ladies' Day prize, then she couldn’t keep her miserable paws off me. She dragged me around the place, showing me off as if she won the prize and I was her trophy! Do you think she'll go back to treating me like your maid after the big bash tonight?”

  I turned to see Sally looking at me with that mixture of fierceness and wistfulness that would be endearing if she'd been a little Labrador puppy.

  “Nobody’s treating you like a maid, Sally, don’t be disrespectful. Now lay out my evening dress before you run my bath,” I said sternly before falling backward on the bed laughing.

  Fortunately, the pillow she threw at me missed the ugly little ceramic lamp that graced the tiny bedside table.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Do you think I should tell her?” I asked Sally. We sat, wrapped in soft cuddly bathrobes, relaxing in the hotel room/broom closet.

  “Tell who, what?” Sally was considerably revived after a shower and a

  near-gourmet room service meal, complete with a red rose on the tray compliments of hotel management for the lovely lady who won the Galway Races Ladies' Day title.

  Eyeing the rose, I could see exactly what Bill was saying. News did travel faster than the speed of spilt Guinness. I guess there'd be no secrets on the Emerald Isle, unless you're a politician used to being slipped a brown envelope stuffed with cash, that is.

  And listening to the news that night, I was pretty well convinced that even those secrets weren't safe from public view for too long.

  “Do you want to tell Mairead you're looking for a husband? Well, I'd say she has the discretion of a musk ox in heat and everything you tell her will probably appear on the public address system in three cities, but the woman is certainly a good judge of man flesh, if you remember the gorgeous James.”

  “Yeah, but I'm looking for a rich husband, not a chauffeur,” I reminded my drooling friend. “ I certainly don’t think the idea of being hunted by a woman intent on pouring whatever wealth they have into a broken down English estate is going to have the millionaires flocking to meet me. So telling Mairead probably isn’t going to help me.”

  Sally was quiet for a moment. Then she brightened. “Hey, tell her she can arrange the wedding if she introduces you to the man you marry, but on one condition - she keeps her part in the plot secret until the deed is done! She'll love the idea of secret agent, licensed to gush!”

  “Yeah. ’Purveyor of Husbands to the Aristocracy,” I joined in the giggling.

  We began working to make ourselves gorgeous for the evening. I don't know if it’s my imagination, but the process seemed to take an awful lot longer since I turned thirty. It’s probably because I take more care with it, I lied to myself.

  I knew as soon as I’d finished speaking that it was a mistake to tell Mairead the reason for my visit to Ireland was to find a husband and to marry money. Sally and I had agreed it was a good idea. After all, Mairead seemed to know every fit and eligible male in the place and be in good terms with them, too. “Please keep this between the two of us. I'm here on a mission to find a husband. “I said to Mairead at the party thrown in honour of the races and Sally, maid of Ladies’ Day.

  “But why the sudden desire to get married?” Mairead asked, eyes popping as she took in the juicy possibilities for gossip. “Don’t tell me you've worn out all the aristocratic males in England and now you're planning to start in Ireland?”

  Catty Cow.

  Clamping my teeth together to stop from grinding them or leaping on the smug, well-married Mairead and ripping out her throat, I smiled grimly. I said slowly and quietly, “Most of the rich guys in my class are either gay or married. The rest of the aristocracy are poor as church mice, holding on to their estates by their fingertips or turning them into theme parks for the peasants.” I hated to admit the awful truth, but at least Mairead had the good grace to look stricken.

  She was silent for a long moment, as if mentally cataloguing all the eligible men she knew. More importantly, what she had to gain from helping me.

  I plunged in with Sally's brilliant suggestion. “Perhaps, if you help me find a husband, y
ou'd be willing to do me one more favour?”

  Mairead's eyes narrowed in anticipation. The woman knew a bribe when it was coming down the track.

  “I'm so impressed with your taste, the way you've organized the party and everything,” I crossed my fingers behind my back and issued a silent plea to the ancestors to forgive my little white lies. “ I thought maybe - and I know you're busy as all get out, but maybe you'd consider organising my wedding? At Alexandria House? Think how everyone would be surprised, because we didn't tell them I was looking for a husband until we – you – had pulled it off! We'd pull out all the stops and you'd have a free hand with the arrangements…”

  Gotcha! I could almost hear the trap snapping closed. Mairead beamed.

  “Well, what sort of a cousin would I be if I couldn’t lend a hand with a young woman's problems? Of course I'll help you find the right mate for life, and I'd be delighted to organize the wedding. Alexandria House has such possibilities for a social event.”

  Yep, the old place has had possibilities for social events for a few hundred years now. At one point Cromwell was a house guest. And because my ancestors have always been flexible when it comes to survival, there have been several grand balls held there for monarchs. We even have a bedroom named for Queen Victoria because the old girl liked to come out and chew the cud with a fellow widow, my sour old great, great grandma Bella. Something in my genes was cringing at the thought of letting Mairead loose there. Yet the saner side reminded me when it comes to pomp and pageantry, Alexandria House had no doubt already seen it all.

  “Yes, dear, I'll draw up a plan and we'll get to work tomorrow. Now, you just relax and enjoy your friend's triumph. Leave everything to your cousin Mairead. Oh, look have you had a chance to say hello to Richard, yet? Yoo-hoo, Richard, look who's here! It's Lady Diana!”

  Please let the floor open up and swallow me.

  Honestly, I have nothing against Richard, Mairead's richer –than- Croesus husband. I don’t even object to the fact he made a fortune out of paper products, even though some of our friends have made up cruel names about him because of this.

  What I do hate is that he presses against me every time we meet. Talk about a severe case of wandering palms. I'd like to smack him silly but you can't do that to your cousin's husband, even if it is a cousin twice removed and even if he does manufacture disposable diapers and other things one does not mention in polite society.

  I really don't know how Mairead puts up with it. I know that she knows. I can see it on her face as I try to edge away from old Velcro Paws. But then I remember Mairead and her chauffeur and think that perhaps she finds comfort in other places, so to speak.

  Speaking of the delicious James, I excused myself from Richard's company by claiming a need to visit the toilet. I didn't mention that it was because he made me want to barf. Mairead had given us the grand tour of the house earlier, so I could find my way around easily. When I passed by Richard’s study, I noticed the door was ajar.

  I distinctly remembered Mairead saying it was kept locked because Richard had 'confidential business papers' in there. Sally and I had giggled about that later. Was Richard about to astound the world with a new self-cleaning reusable toilet paper? A miracle in environmental friendliness, oh, yes, and definitely to be protected from the voracious industrial spies in the paper products industry.

  I knew Richard and Mairead were both back where the main party action was taking place, so I thought I'd peak around the door and see who else was entrusted with a key to the inner sanctum.

  “James!” I exclaimed. I wouldn’t expect the chauffeur to have a key to the master's study and its secret documents. The poor man jumped like a scalded cat. As he turned around I think he came close to blushing.

  “Oh, Lady Diana?” It was almost a croak. What was wrong with the poor man?

  “James, don’t look so shocked, I'm sorry I startled you but I was looking for the bathroom.”

  “I was just getting some papers for Mr Ransome, he needs them for a meeting.”

  Methinks the man doth protest too much. Judging from the state of Richard, who'd visited the bar a little too frequently, there wouldn’t be a meeting until the hangover let up.

  “The bathroom is just down the hall, on the left.”

  “Well, thank you for your help. I'm sure Mr Ransome is really lucky to have someone as versatile as yourself.”

  I left the room quickly. I'd seen the tiny digital camera he'd tried to keep hidden in his palm. I wondered what that was all that about? Was James trying to steal the secret panty liner plans? Was Mairead in on the secret? Oh, how I looked forward to rehashing this juicy bit of info with Sally, and getting her take on it.

  It struck me as I left the bathroom that I'd not seen Sally in quite a while, so I went off to look for her. Mairead's house was huge for a modern home, ten bedrooms, formal public rooms, family rooms, and eventually a huge conservatory, where I found Sally hidden behind potted palms. And she wasn't alone.

  Sitting very close beside her was the blond guy, Josh something or another, we’d met at the hotel in Dublin. Bill's mate.

  So that's the way the wind blows, is it? I smiled to myself as I wandered off to find other company.

  And walked right into Bill. Couldn't be better, eh?

  “I’m looking for Josh, the friend who was with me when we met Dublin. I promised to see him before I left…”

  “Bill, there's nobody through there,” I said, taking his arm and leading him away from the conservatory. Sally would owe me for that one. “Let’s go find a drink, Josh is probably in the main room.”

  There was a delicious feeling shimmering up through my stomach as we strolled arm in arm through the increasingly rambunctious crowd. Mairead might just regret letting the drink flow quite so freely. I'd noticed she was quite protective of the new carpeting. What idiot would have white shag carpeting in the public rooms and then throw a party where so many people would drink too much?

  Ah, yes, the same woman I'd invited to do the decorating at my wedding Oh, dear...

  If there ever was a wedding. I sighed. I'd really thought I'd be able to sweep through Ireland, inspecting titled millionaires, or even millionaires without titles, pick one that suited, and glide up to the altar to happily ever-after, or at least, to a resolution of the problems of the Ashburnham Estate.

  And to make matters worse, my hormones were singing the Hallelujah Chorus every time I came into contact with a man who seemed to have virtually no social standing at all, and probably not a lot of cash to judge from the big old SUV he picked us up in for the party. Just to find a place to sit, we'd had to push all sorts of hammers and things out of the way and Bill had laid garbage bags on the seats to keep our clothes clean.

  Of course, if the man was skilled in any building trades, he'd be able to help fix up Alexandria House, my hormones whispered wistfully.

  Forget it. What I need to fix up Alexandria House is cold, hard cash. If that meant foregoing the possible delights of a warm hard lover, then so be it.

  Mairead was gesturing frantically to me from over by the canapés, so I smiled at Bill and went off to see what she wanted.

  “Listen, dear, I thought it would be nice if you, and your friend Sally, of course, stay here tonight.”

  “Oh, but Bill said it was no trouble to drop us back at the hotel, and we didn’t bring overnight bags with us.”

  “Well, we can fix that. It would give us time tomorrow to draw up a plan of action for your husband hunt and, dear, I'd rather you didn't spend so much time in Bill's company.”

  “Why not? I know he's not exactly rich, but—”

  “I made an exception in inviting him tonight, partly because he was already in your company and I didn't know then you were looking for a serious relationship, and partly because, well, I'm not a total prude, you know.”

  I thought of the gorgeous James and nodded agreement. No woman who hired someone who looked like Adonis as her chauffeur could possibly
be a prude.

  “But, in the light of your desire to find a suitable husband, I have to revise my thoughts about that young man as an option for you. From now on, I'll take you under my wing, and no more hobnobbing with undesirables.”

  I was furious but bit my lip. If I wanted to see Bill, I would. I was in the mood for a bit of a fling. And Mairead, bless her dried up little prune of a heart, didn’t need to know.

  “Why don't you ask James to drive us home,” I suggested to distract her.

  “Oh, James isn't here tonight, dear – an event like this would be totally unsuitable for a chauffeur. He's enjoying an evening off, I'm sure.”

  Now, wasn't that interesting? James lurking in the master's study with a cute little camera, jumping like a startled frog when interrupted, and the mistress – I use the term loosely - has no idea he's on the premises.

  Or so she says.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I chatted with a couple of well-dressed, heavily made up women who talked about their cars and their houses and their children and their bank accounts with amazing openness.

  When they realized who I was, they made such a fuss over the title and asked what it was like to have people make a fuss over you when they heard you had a title.

  “I can't really say, you know, I've been Lady Diana ever since I was born, so I don’t actually know how people treat you if you don’t have a title. So I can't tell you whether it's different or not,” I said.

  They looked at me with delighted faces.

  “Oh, would you listen to that, then?” A glamorous middle aged woman named Eileen exclaimed. “She’s the real thing!”

  “You know,” her friend Camille said. “I always thought Mairead was full of shit when she bragged about having titled relatives, and all this time it's been true!”

  “Yeah, you really didn't win that title in a bag of crisps or something, did you?”