by Jane Rubino
They joined the company once more, and although Reginald was obliged to yield Frederica to a succession of partners and to offer himself to several young ladies who would otherwise have had to sit out a dance, when they were together, they appeared so cheerful and animated as to persuade everyone that young deCourcy had reconciled Frederica to his union with her mother and that she had at last resigned herself to marrying Sir James.
While Sir James was seeing his mother to the carriage, Reginald drew Frederica aside, and they decided that their parents’ consent must be asked as soon as possible. “I think—I hope—that Sir Reginald will be happy,” said Frederica. “But I am afraid that the joy of Lady deCourcy and the Hamiltons will not be so easily won.”
“Whether or not they will approve, they must be resigned to what is inevitable,” declared Reginald. “I have left everyone else to cultivate my happiness too long, and they have been very poor gardeners—I must attend to it myself.”
chapter fifty-nine
Frederica was too happy to wait for daylight to make her important communication to her mother. Lady Vernon laughed, wept, and said, “Your father would have been so very pleased with your choice,” then wiped away her tears and smiled once more. Upon Frederica’s urging, she rang for Wilson, who hurried from her bed, fearing some change in her mistress’s condition; her congratulations were asked for and enthusiastically given, and their expressions of joy were so great that they drew Lady Martin from her own quarters.
“What? Are you still up, Susan? Are you ill?”
Her anxiety for Lady Vernon was immediately set right and her delight at Frederica’s news could barely be contained. “Oh, Lord bless me! Did I not tell you? Did I not say how well they were suited to each other? Oh, what a handsome couple you will make—and Miss Manwaring being married to his uncle! Oh, but it is not right that we should all celebrate and Miss Manwaring be left out!” she insisted, whereupon Miss Manwaring was called from her quarters to share in their joy.
Nearly an hour was spent in talking, until at last Lady Martin determined, “We must all get ourselves to bed. There will be enough time for talking tomorrow when we are refreshed—then we can go over the entire ball. I daresay I never saw anything as curious as Miss Hamilton’s hair! Why, I recall that I was proposed to at a ball myself—it was not your uncle, for a ball is a very romantic place to propose and your uncle did not have a romantic bone in his body—though he was a very good man, for all that. Come, we must get to bed.”
The morning hours of Portland Place were not late as a rule, but on the morrow, the girls and Lady Vernon were still in bed when Lady Martin came down to breakfast. She had just poured out her coffee and put a saucer of cream down for her cats when the door was thrown open and Sir James was ushered into the room.
“Good morning, Mother! Is no one else down? I had hoped that I might find all of you together so that I might be properly congratulated. Have no fear, nothing has got around yet, for half of respectable London and all of the scoundrels and gossips are still in bed, but I needed no confirmation other than deCourcy’s looks and Freddie’s smiles last night as the dancing progressed. Did I not tell you that the ball would do the trick? I take all the credit for the engagement that can be spared from Freddie—I will allow generously for her beauty and cleverness and the gracefulness of her dancing, but I must have my share of praise for bringing young deCourcy to the point.”
“And what did you do?” scoffed Lady Martin. “Frederica’s beauty comes from her mother’s side, for her mother was an Osbourne, and her cleverness was helped on by her parents and Miss Wilson, and the gracefulness of her dancing must be attributed to her own application to the process!”
“Well, then—I have sharpened her wits.”
“A girl needs very little wit to say ‘I will’ when a gentleman asks her.”
“You are determined not to flatter me at all—it is a pity that Susan is not up. She would not be so miserly with her praise. I must wait until tonight, for we are all to dine with the Johnsons. I am in such good spirits that I do not even mind that Charles Vernon is to be of the party.”
Sir Reginald and Mr. Lewis deCourcy called some time later, the former to address Lady Vernon and the latter to escort Miss Manwaring back to Edward Street.
Lady Vernon, whose natural fatigue had been increased by very little sleep, received Sir Reginald in her dressing room. He thought her very pale and languid, though she held out her hand in welcome, and her eyes glowed with pleasure when he told her how very pleased he was with his son’s choice and assured her that he gave his hearty consent to the union of their children. “Miss Vernon is everything I could wish in a daughter, and her disposition will complement Reginald’s in every regard. As to the date and the particulars, it must be arranged with respect to your situation; I would not impose upon your mourning and I hope that seeing your daughter to the altar will bring you a little happiness to lighten your sorrow.”
Lady Vernon thanked him, for his present kindness and for the many kindnesses he had shown Frederica while she was at Parklands. “Your son’s offer does credit to his heart, but with you I may be frank—it must be an offer that is entirely disinterested. My daughter has no fortune—certainly nothing like what would have been settled upon Miss Hamilton can be settled upon Frederica.”
“I am very sorry for Miss Vernon that such is the case—sorrier, indeed, because I must think that it would be otherwise but for the interference of my son-in-law. If I could compel him to make amends, I would do so. As it is, I can only give you my assurances that no claim to any entitlement save for Miss Vernon herself is sought.”
He then rose to take leave, as she did not seem to be equal to a prolonged conversation. He asked permission to call upon her again and assured her that she might very soon expect to receive a letter from Lady deCourcy giving her blessing and approval to the engagement.
Maria proposed that Frederica accompany her to Edward Street to spend the day, and Lady Vernon decided that she would just as soon be spared the paroxysms of astonishment and agitation when her dear friend Alicia Johnson learned of Frederica’s engagement.
Mrs. Johnson’s emotions were indeed thrown into turmoil by the announcement—Miss Vernon engaged to Reginald deCourcy! How could he have proposed to the daughter when everybody had him all but married to the mother? And yet how much more exciting to have Miss Vernon, rather than her mother, as Reginald deCourcy’s object. Lady Vernon was not quite eight months a widow—if she were to marry now, everything must be delayed and done in a very modest fashion, but Miss Vernon’s engagement must entail a great deal of shopping and visiting. And what a round of parties and balls and receptions there would be!
Mrs. Johnson was well into a reverie that had her looking through pattern books and overseeing the selection of laces and veils when she was struck with another thought. What of Sir James Martin now that Miss Vernon was not to marry Sir James! The notion that he was unattached roused her to action—she must immediately call upon Lady Hamilton and Lady Millbanke and Mrs. Carr and tell them that Sir James Martin was eligible once more, and leaving the two girls to the company of Mr. Johnson—which was to leave him alone in his library and the girls to a happy tête-à-tête in the sitting room—she hurried out the door.
chapter sixty
As Miss Manwaring and Miss Vernon were arranging their dress for dinner, a note was handed up to the latter.
LADY M ARTIN TO M ISS V ERNON
Portland Place
My dear girl,
I send this with another note to Mrs. Johnson asking her to excuse your mother and me from dining tonight. I have said only that your mother is not well—it is many, many hours before anything more in the way of explanation will be required. I would not have you stay to dine at Edward Street if you would rather be at home, but you can do nothing here, while there you may keep up such appearances as will prevent James from hurrying to Portland Place and making a nuisance of himself. It is a part that will re
quire some presence of mind, but I have every confidence in your abilities and assure you that Wilson’s and mine are equal to the present state of affairs.
Yours, etc.,
E. Martin
Mrs. Johnson was excessively displeased by her letter. “Why, it was to have been very evenly laid out—six ladies and six gentlemen!” she expostulated to Eliza Manwaring. “If I had been given more notice, I might have invited somebody else. I do not think that Miss Hamilton and Miss Claudia would have come, as they must be very angry at their cousin, but I owe something in the way of a dinner to Mrs. Younge, who might have brought her niece.”
“At least it will not be an odd party,” consoled Eliza. She was all contentment, for she was to dine in the company of Sir Reginald deCourcy and his son, which was a mark of distinction she had never enjoyed when at Langford.
Sir James was more displeased than Mrs. Johnson at the absence of his mother and cousin. He was inclined to excuse himself at once and go directly to Portland Place, but Frederica’s presence reassured him that she would not stay to dine if her mother were ill.
The remainder of the party arrived and Frederica was quite surprised to see the change in her Uncle Vernon. His countenance was wan and tense, and when he congratulated the young ladies upon their good fortune, he did not know where to look. Toward Frederica he was particularly ill at ease, and he retreated to the company of gentlemen, though he seemed to have little to say to any of them. At dinner, he was seated between Mrs. Johnson and Eliza, where he was principally occupied in repeating to one the remarks the other had not heard.
During a change in the courses, there was just such a lull in the conversation that allowed Sir James to address the entire party. “My young cousin’s engagement compels me to think of my obligation as her nearest male relation—from her mother’s branch of the family,” he added with a nod in Vernon’s direction. “I have decided upon my wedding present, which I know will please Freddie and I hope will please you, deCourcy.”
“If it pleases Frederica, then it will please me,” said Reginald with a smile.
“But you must tell us what it is,” urged Mrs. Johnson.
“It is a garden—indeed, several gardens—laid out in some of the finest property in Staffordshire.”
“Staffordshire!”
“Yes, what a wonderful opportunity your engagement presents, for I may get Vernon Castle off my hands at last.”
“Sir, I must protest,” declared Reginald.
“Yes, indeed you must.” Sir James laughed. “You must protest that you have asked nothing to take Freddie off our hands—I would think less of you if you did not. But it was always to have been Freddie’s property, and I have never intended it for any other purpose than to be settled on her. You must be on my side, Sir Reginald. Surely you see no impropriety in my offer.”
“None at all. Certainly Miss Vernon is deserving of no less.”
“Indeed, she deserves much more. Do you not agree, Vernon?”
Charles Vernon started. Sir James’s announcement had left him speechless; to have Vernon Castle given away in such an offhand fashion—the property he had once coveted and got so close to possessing!
Sir James repeated his question, and Vernon, not knowing what to say, muttered something like assent.
“I am delighted to hear it, for we must be together in this. I will settle the property and I will leave the dowry to you—whatever Sir Frederick confided to you that he meant to give her—there will be no occasion for anything more.” He then turned the subject aside to Vernon Castle, and in describing the countryside, for the gentlemen’s benefit, and the appointment of the rooms, for the ladies’, he entertained them until the ladies withdrew.
Frederica was not insensible of the philanthropy of Sir James’s gift, though she also recognized the practicality of it—she and Reginald must live somewhere when they married, and she neither wished for Parklands to come to them in the near future nor to be in an everyday proximity to Lady deCourcy.
Alicia Johnson and Eliza Manwaring thought the gesture a very handsome one—extraordinarily handsome—and Eliza, in particular, addressed Frederica with a greater desire to make herself agreeable than she ever had before. Her resentment of Lady Vernon, the misery occasioned by her husband’s conduct at Langford, must be set aside if the privilege of being invited to Vernon Castle was to be cultivated, for though she had visited innumerable manors and parks and halls and lodges, she had yet to enjoy the distinction of being asked to a castle.
Maria’s selfishness was very moderate by comparison—she was only sorry that she and Frederica would be settled so far from each other. “It is more than a hundred miles,” she lamented.
Eliza protested, “A hundred miles is only a great distance when the conditions of travel are inferior, but that is not the case here. Your husbands possess such handsome carriages, and they will always have the best horses that you may travel with such ease and comfort—I daresay you would not think yourselves far at twice the distance!”
The gentlemen stayed somewhat longer than usual in the dining room, and when they appeared, Frederica noticed Vernon’s ashen face and silent manner. He took some coffee from Mrs. Johnson solely, it seemed, to have something to do with his hands, and he sat because it seemed that his legs would not support him.
Sir James took a chair beside his cousin and smiled. “I know that your uncle has made you unhappy—how far, and from what cause, you have not chosen to confide—but I think that I have gotten satisfaction.”
“I am sorry that you have found me reserved, cousin, but I will not be sparing in my thanks.”
“You must spare some of your thanks for Sir Reginald. Gentlemen will be very direct when the ladies have left the table. ‘I quite agree that it is for Miss Vernon’s male relations to act in the place of her father,’ said he. ‘Sir James has settled very handsomely upon her in the matter of property, and so I think it is for you, Charles, to name the dowry.’ Vernon gave a sort of sickly smile and protested, ‘I think that Reginald’s pride will not allow it,’ and young deCourcy replied, ‘My pride will always give way before any gesture of respect for Miss Vernon.’ There was nothing to be done. Eight thousand pounds—what do you think? I would have liked ten better than eight, but Vernon does have a second son and two daughters to provide for in time, so under the circumstances, I think it is very handsome.”
Frederica was astonished. She had given up all hope that her uncle would concede to any of Sir Frederick’s promises regarding her and her mother—to have agreed to particulars was unbelievable!
She expressed her misgivings to her cousin. “He is like many falsehearted men who will say one thing in the evening and retract it on the following day.”
“He will not be given the opportunity,” replied her cousin, “for once he named the amount, Sir Reginald declared that there was nothing to prevent the terms from being drawn up immediately, and Johnson even offered to act as witness. Ah, here comes your young man, and I must give way. He is an excellent fellow and as sensible as a man who is violently in love can be—you must not hope for anything more.”
The evening passed away; if Charles Vernon was morose and silent, that was offset by Mr. Johnson’s uncommon affability. His friendship with Lewis deCourcy was long-standing, but now he took pains to know Sir Reginald better, and in their mutual esteem of Frederica, there was something to promote conversation. He was even cordial toward Eliza and went so far as to throw any praise of the house or the dinner in Mrs. Johnson’s direction.
Sir Reginald’s habits were regular and he kept early hours, and soon after they had taken their coffee and tea, he called for his carriage. Reginald and Vernon departed with him, and Sir James and Mr. Lewis deCourcy left not long after. Frederica waited only for her cousin to be gone before she asked Mr. Johnson if she might trouble him to be conveyed back to Portland Place.
“Indeed, yes, for you will have a great deal to tell Lady Vernon. It will be a great relief—when
she is better, I hope that I may be permitted to call upon her—if there was any misunderstanding—any feeling that I did not wish for the acquaintance—you will smooth things over, to be sure.”
Frederica assured him that both her mother and Lady Martin would be happy to know him, and after a round of thanks and promises and engagements that must prolong any parting for an additional fifteen minutes, Frederica departed.
She found her mother so well attended by her aunt, Miss Wilson, and Mrs. Forrester that her presence would have given rise to confusion rather than comfort. As the night progressed into morning, however, all four women had a part to play; and though it was frequently to obey some order of Dr. Driggs’s or to assure each other that Lady Vernon was in no great distress or in any danger, they were diligent, capable, and tireless.
The morning brought the fulfillment of all of Lady Vernon’s hopes and the end of Charles Vernon’s expectations, and though making his arrival well before it had been anticipated, the child gave no indication of being the worse for it. Lady Martin, too overcome with exhaustion and relief, said, “When no ill effects come of it, it is just as well to have a child come early as not,” though she could not help adding that it was the good doctor’s calculations that might have been amiss.
She then declared that he had the Vernon forehead and the Martin chin, while Lady Vernon was content to reassure herself that he had the proper number of limbs and pronounced his name to be James Frederick Vernon.
chapter sixty-one
CHARLES V ERNON WOKE THE NEXT MORNING, LOOKING toward his tenure as master of Churchill Manor with renewed interest. The quarter was due in a matter of weeks, and while it might not be what he would like (as he had done nothing to increase the property’s yield or rents), it would put his creditors off a little longer and help to settle the sort of debts of honor that must be reconciled without delay.
