In the end, she stayed in her chamber for the remainder of the day, having a dinner tray sent up in the evening rather than descending to the dining room. If barricading herself in her room made her poor spirited, it could not be helped. At all events, she was still far too bitter over her aunt’s interference in her life to confront her just yet.
By morning, though her thoughts were no less disordered, at least she felt enough in command of herself to face her aunt, and after they had finished a nearly silent breakfast together, she followed Emily into the morning room.
Aunt Emily immediately picked up her stitching and began working diligently upon it, looking the very picture of innocence.
“I must tell you. Aunt Emily,” said Elizabeth with admirable composure, “that I find your behaviour in this affair to have been loathsome, deceitful, and... and traitorous! How could you?”
Her aunt’s face twitched ludicrously as a series of diverse expressions flitted across it in her effort to hit upon the proper attitude to assume. While she still vacillated, Elizabeth spoke again, very softly. “Do not, pray, add to your list of iniquities by lying to me now and denying your culpability!”
Emily’s face crumpled. “Oh, Elizabeth,” she cried, “indeed, I did it for the best! I could not bear to think of you wasting your life away as an old maid! And, indeed, Charles seems so perfect for you in every way. I made sure you were not indiffident to him. Do not tell me you are, for I won’t believe you. Indeed, I won’t!”
“No, I shan’t deny it, but that does not absolve you of guilt! You had no right to meddle!”
Emily sniffed pitiously into her handkerchief.
Elizabeth shook her head sadly, despairing of ever being able to bring her aunt to a realization of her crimes. How she longed for a confidante: someone to whom she could pour out her story, and in return receive wise counsel, or at the very least, sympathy and understanding. But there was no one, only poor, inadequate Aunt Emily, who would be shocked and horrified were she to hear Elizabeth’s dilemma.
“You really haven’t a notion of what you have done, have you?” Elizabeth finally asked.
“I have only tried to ensure your future happiness!” declared her aunt stubbornly and defensively. “And for that, instead of thanks, I get nothing but recrimitations!”
“No. I shall not thank you, for you have more likely ruined my life than otherwise! Whether you believe it or not, I have a very compelling reason for shunning marriage.”
“Unnatural girl! I cannot, for the life of me, think what that reason may be! To be having these romansical notions about love is being foolish beyond perdition, and so I have told you these many years!”
“Well,” said her niece with a sigh, “what is done is done, and to be arguing about it pays no toll. We must hope for the best, and perhaps it will not be so very bad, after all. I’m sure Wiggons will not spread the story, and we must hope none of the other servants will, either.”
“Well, I pray you may be right,” said her aunt doubtfully. “But these things always have a way of leaping out. I am sure I don’t know how, but depend upon it, they do! And how we are to survive the scandal, if you will not marry Charles, I do not know, either!”
“Well,” Elizabeth temporized, “let us not borrow trouble before we must.”
But her aunt was proved right that very day. Aunt Emily had gone soon after their talk to spend the morning with Lady Langley, and when she returned later, pale and trembling, she collapsed into a chair, a hand clutched to her breast. “Oh, Elizabeth! It is all too true! Oh, I knew how it would be! Oh! Where is my vinaigrette?”
“Aunt Emily! What on earth?” Elizabeth knelt in front of her aunt, taking her hand and holding it between her own two.
Aunt Emily had leant her head against the back of her chair, her eyes closed, and now she peeked at her niece from beneath her lashes. “It is just as I said it would be—only worse. Oh, Elizabeth, the humilitation of it all! Margaret and I visited the Pump Room, and—oh, the nasty, sly smiles, and the whispers behind my back! I shall never be able to show my face again!”
“Oh, my dear! Was it so bad? I’m sorry, so sorry. But, listen to me, dearest. We shall leave Bath. We’ll go to live in the country, or a small village, and you can have your own garden. You’ve always wanted a garden. You know you have!”
“Yes,” said Aunt Emily pitifully. “But it will not be the same. I’ve grown quite fond of Bath...and the Pump Room, and my particular friends here. And I shall miss the concerts so. If only...’’ She trailed off.
“It will not be so dreadful. Aunt Emily. You will make new friends wherever we go. Remember how easily we adjusted to living here in Bath.”
“But why can you not adjust to marriage with Charles?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Come, Aunt Emily. Let me help you to your room. We shall talk about it later when you have rested.”
If more pressure than that had been needed to convince Elizabeth where her duty lay, it was brought to bear later that afternoon in the form of Lord Braxton.
When Wiggons announced that Lord Braxton had come to call, and was awaiting her in the drawing room, Elizabeth’s first impulse was to deny herself to him. But that would have been craven, and so she went down to see him.
She entered the room to find him standing stiffly, facing the door, hands behind his back, and with a most stern expression upon his countenance. As she offered her hand to him, she said coolly, ‘You wished to see me, my lord?”
He took her hand briefly. “Yes, Miss Ashton, I did,” he replied, and began to pace about the room. After a moment, he continued, “Miss Ashton, I have been greatly distressed and unsettled in my mind. Last week I was severely shocked to observe you, with my own eyes, driving out of town with Mr. Carlyle, and with no chaperon to protect you and lend you countenance. I could only hope that you were merely going for a short drive with him, improper though that would be. However, I must tell you, such an explanation of your behaviour will not work with me. During the succeeding days, I called here no less than three times, and each time I was told that you were unable to receive me. No explanation was offered me, you understand, but I knew. Oh, yes, I knew. How could I not?”
He paused for a moment, but when there was no reaction from Elizabeth, he continued, “Well, not to wrap the matter in clean linen, there has been talk about you and Mr. Carlyle during the past few weeks. Not that I have wished to credit it. In fact, I did not, though I attempted to warn you about him. But what was I to think when I myself had the misfortune, once more, to witness your return to town in that same open carriage, with that same person, only yesterday?”
Here his voice shook with such strong emotion that he was forced to pause again in order to regain control of himself. Elizabeth merely watched him, too angry to trust herself to speak, and when he was able to, he said, “You may imagine, 1 am persuaded, into what perturbation I was thrown! I have made no secret of my admiration for you. Miss Ashton, and, indeed, I had quite made up my mind that you should be my wife. I had meant to come to you immediately, to confront you over this distasteful affair. However, I did not because my next impulse, of course, was to sever the connection cleanly! However, after a great deal of soul-searching, I have decided that I shall give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume that the worst did not happen.”
“How very broadminded of you,” murmured Elizabeth.
“Yes, but you will understand, I know, that it was no easy thing to overcome my very real scruples concerning this matter. It was only after a most fiercely fought battle with my better judgment that I was able to do so!”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed! A most fiercely fought battle! However, Miss Ashton, after long and deep contemplation, it is my belief that if you were to live quietly, and in perfect propriety—in a most exemplary manner—for the next year or two, the talk will die down, and then we may proceed with plans for our marriage.”
“Sir, it is my belief that you are all about in your hea
d! I have no intention of marrying you—now, in a year or two, or ever!”
“I am persuaded, Miss Ashton, that you are merely a trifle overset, and do not realize what you are saying. Therefore, I shall overlook it. Naturally, you do not like to think of waiting so long as a year or two for your happiness, but I do not see that it can be done any sooner. And, after all, you must know that you are not likely to receive a more advantageous offer.”
She was so furious by then that she longed to strike him, but it gave her some satisfaction to see his shocked expression when she replied, “As for offers, my lord, I am pleased to tell you that I have received a much more advantageous one. I shall soon be wed to Mr. Carlyle!”
“You cannot wish to be married to that...that conscienceless rake!”
“On the contrary. I am quite sure that I shall like it excessively!”
He was horrified, and his mouth opened and closed ineffectually several times before he was able to say with rigid formality, “Miss Ashton, I have never been so shocked! Clearly I have been much mistaken in your character! I shall count myself fortunate to have been undeceived before it was too late!”
“I am in complete agreement with you, my lord. You can have no notion of how mistaken you have been!” Elizabeth told him. “But you were never in any danger, for I would not have had you under any circumstances! And now I think we have both said quite enough. I am persuaded that you had best leave before one of us is tempted to say something for which he may be sorry.”
Without a word, he turned and left, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She had finally sent her unwanted suitor to rout, and she thought of how Charles would laugh when she told him. But then, with a pang of regret, she remembered that she and Charles were not on such easy terms any longer.
She was leaving the drawing room when it suddenly dawned upon her that, without a thought, she had committed herself to marrying Charles. And somehow, in spite of all, it was like the lifting of a great burden from her shoulders to have the decision made.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aunt Emily, when apprised of the news later that afternoon, became almost crazed with delight and joy. Nothing must do but that a note must be sent round, instantly, to Laura Place, and when that was done, she plunged exuberantly into wedding plans.
“Of course you must wear your mother’s wedding gown, for I have saved it all these many years for just this occasion, and of course you must have a trousseau. But for that, I am persuaded you will wish to have a London modiste, for you know, my love, that those here in Bath cannot compare. They are all very well in their way, but they will not do for your bride clothes. You will agree with me on that head, I know.
“Now, do let me think... oh, yes! We must have the imitations printed up, but of course, we cannot do that until we have made up a list of guests, and then, too, we must decide where it will take place. Do you not think St. George’s in London, my love?” . Elizabeth, who had been wondering how Charles would receive the intelligence that she was now ready to accept his offer, had been listening to her aunt with only half an ear, but upon hearing Aunt Emily’s final words, she looked at her aunt in appalled horror. “Good God, no! Aunt Emily, whatever are you about? These elaborate plans will not do. I will much prefer a very private, simple wedding here in Bath.”
“Not St. George’s?” asked Emily disappointedly. But her jubilation could not long remain suppressed, and she was soon bubbling over again. “Oh, well, I suppose Bath will do well enough. In truth, my love, the more I think on it, the better I like the notion. I am persuaded that it will be the most stumendous wedding Bath has ever seen.
“But I am forgetting. We must decide when it is to be. I fear it will take some time to arrange it all, but then, configuring all, perhaps it would be as well not to postpone it for too long a time. What do you think, my dear?”
“Forgive me. Aunt Emily. What did you say?”
“My dear, you are not listening, and I am persuaded that you should, for this is a very important occasion for you! One only gets married once, you know. Or, at least, one should only marry once. Of course if one happens to be a widow, or even a widower, one may marry more than once, however—”
“Oh, Aunt Emily! Stop! You are giving me the headache, and you may even be counting your chickens before they are hatched. For all we know, Charles may no longer wish to marry me.”
Aunt Emily stared at her niece with astonishment. “Not wish to marry you? Have you run mad? Of course he will wish to marry you. He has no choice.”
Elizabeth winced at this, but Aunt Emily was already pulling a sheet of writing paper from her desk and beginning to make a list, and so she did not see the result of her unwittingly tactless remark.
But Elizabeth was not so sanguine as her aunt, for she had begun plaguing herself with the possibility that Charles might no longer be of a mind to wed her. After all, she had refused him quite adamantly, had even invited him to wash his hands of her. Perhaps he had even left Bath, and at this thought, she felt a distinct sinking sensation.
But that fear, at least, was laid to rest when, shortly after dinner, Wiggons brought in a return note from Charles. Elizabeth opened it with trembling hands, and the sinking sensation returned as she read: “Elizabeth, Most gratified to receive your message. Will call upon you in the morning. Charles.”
She stared at it despondently for several minutes, then castigated herself for being such a lackwit. What had she expected—a love letter? Not from a man making an unwilling sacrifice upon the altar of duty, certainly. And she had better keep that firmly in mind, else she was in danger of revealing her own feelings to him. And why that should be such a perilous prospect, she could not have said. She only knew that it would be, that such a revelation would somehow place her in a more vulnerable position than she already occupied, and that must be avoided at all costs.
* * * *
When Charles was announced the following morning, Elizabeth was certain that her thundering heartbeat must be clearly audible both to him and to her aunt, but he merely bent over her hand, murmuring politely, his countenance utterly impassive, before turning to Aunt Emily.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said with more warmth than he had shown towards Elizabeth.
“Oh, Charles. I collect you have come to discuss the wedding plans.”
“As you say.”
“Oh!” Aunt Emily’s hands fluttered nervously, “Oh, yes! Oh, but, my dear boy, I must tell you—I am quite aux angles!” Charles’s eyebrows shot up. “Aux... ?” Elizabeth gave way to tension-relieving laughter, while her aunt gazed from one to the other in bewilderment.
“I believe Aunt Emily meant to say aux anges.”
“Well, I am perfectly sure that is what I did say!” Two pairs of laughing eyes had met in perfect accord until Aunt Emily’s voice brought them to a sense of where they were, and Elizabeth’s face became a coolly polite mask, while Charles cleared his throat and assumed a faint scowl.
“Do sit down, Charles,” Elizabeth invited him quietly.
“Thank you.”
He seated himself, while Aunt Emily rang for refreshments, and the three of them discoursed upon the weather and the state of everyone’s health with all the enthusiasm of mourners at a wake, until Wiggons had served them and withdrawn from the room.
Charles cleared his throat once more. “Margaret and I have discussed the situation from all sides, and have reached a solution which I believe will be best for all concerned.
“The two of you shall travel to Langley Hall within the next few days, in company with Margaret and Melanie, and we shall be married there, by special license. I shall leave for London today to procure the license and will join you at Langley at the end of the week.” His dark brows lifted questioningly again at Elizabeth’s look of dismay. “Have you some objection?”
Objection? Oh, yes! She objected most strenuously. She wished never to set foot in Langley Hall again for as long as she lived, but of course, she could not tell
him that without disclosing her reasons, and that she was not prepared to do.
She said faintly, “I had thought a very private, very quiet wedding here in Bath would suffice.”
“I agree that the quieter it is, the better it shall be. But you cannot wish to afford the Bath Quizzes more matter for gossip. The sooner you remove from this vicinity, the sooner talk will die down.”
“Oh... yes, of course, but must it be Langley Hall?”
He frowned. “You have a preferable location in mind?”
She had not, and was obliged at last to admit as much, however reluctantly.
At this juncture. Aunt Emily suddenly stood, murmuring vaguely, “Oh, dear, I have only just remembered. I must speak with Cook.” And with that, she fairly flew from the room.
Elizabeth could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at her aunt’s transparent ruse and at finding herself alone with Charles, absurd as that was. Heaven knew they had been left alone together more often than not in the past, but his world-weary expression and the disgusted curl of his lips did not help matters any.
“I suppose,” he drawled, “that one cannot wonder at your... fall from virtue, when one considers your deplorable upbringing. Of course, we are betrothed now, but I could have saved myself a deal of grief had I tumbled to your aunt’s game early in our acquaintance, when she so constantly and improperly left us alone together.”
“Charles... please!”
“Oh, come now, my dear! If you think playing off these missish airs is pleasing to me, you couldn’t be more wrong. At least grant me the consolation of deriving some benefit from your unusual rearing.”
“Very well!” she said angrily. “I grant you that both my aunt and I were at fault, but if we are casting stones, then your sister must come in for her share. In fact, I would venture to say that she is due the lion’s share, for I doubt very much that Aunt Emily devised that ramshackle plot!”
The Thoroughly Compromised Bride Page 10
