A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  “Yes, he has shown himself to be well-mannered, intelligent, and agreeable. But what of his background, Bet? Before you become any more interested than you are, should we not know a little more about him? What if he turned out to be a wastrel and a scoundrel?”

  His last remark was intended for a humorous effect, for he had no notion that Jack Grant was either of those things, but his sister’s reaction startled him.

  Elizabeth turned pale and demanded, “Tell me what you have heard about him, Reggie! What are you hiding from me?”

  “Hiding from you?” he asked in astonishment. “What the devil would I be hiding from you? Do you mean to say that you think he might actually have something to hide?”

  “Of course not!” Her face crumpled a little, however. “It’s just that it’s odd that you would use the same word—wastrel—that he used about himself. But he was only joking, I’m sure.”

  “Naturally,” said her brother consolingly. “Did he call himself a scoundrel, too?”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Reggie,” Elizabeth said crossly. “He did not.” She thought for a moment, then added slowly, “Actually, he called himself ‘a gambler and a wastrel’—but I thought that he was just embarrassed because I had been praising him.”

  “A gambler, eh? Well, that should be easy enough to check on.”

  “You’re going to check on him, Reggie?” she asked, horrified. “Just as though he were a servant and you were checking his reference? How could you do such a thing?”

  Reginald looked at her a little grimly. “It is quite easy, Bet. He is a guest in our mother’s home, an intimate member of our little group, and an object of interest to you. I would be foolhardy not to check on him. And in the meantime, you would be wise to see what you can learn of him yourself.”

  If Jack Grant was a little startled by the sudden interest in his childhood and youthful adventures, he hid it well, indulging Elizabeth and her mother in several stories of riding mishaps and boyish misadventures. He was, they discovered, the youngest son of quite a large brood; his father, the younger son of an earl, had been a clergyman in Yorkshire.

  “The youngest son of a younger son has limited choices in life, I’m afraid,” he said, smiling ruefully, “and so my father told me I must choose between the church and the military. I chose the military.”

  “But you’re not in uniform,” observed Elizabeth, “and the colonel calls you Mr. Grant—when he is not calling you Jack, of course.”

  He nodded. “I served for four years, then sold out and spent some time here in London. I had served under Colonel Anderson, and he asked me to return to his service as an aide.” To the delight of the ladies, he regaled them with a good many stories of Peninsular life, giving them intimate glances of preparations for battle as well as the day-in and day-out activities of life in a military encampment.

  “But you do not choose to follow the drum any longer, Mr. Grant?” inquired Lucinda, wiping her eyes after one of his stories.

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I discovered that I was not made for that sort of life, although I have enjoyed acting as the colonel’s aide.”

  “But I understand that you will be leaving the colonel soon. What will you do then?” persisted Lucinda, who was not known for her reticence. For once, both Elizabeth and her mother were grateful for her forthright manner.

  “That is an excellent question and I am in the process of deciding precisely that, ma’am,” he returned smoothly, leaving them knowing no more than they had.

  Lucinda ached to ask him just how he would earn his living once he left the colonel, but even she could not bring herself to be quite so bold.

  “I would hope, Mr. Grant,” said Elizabeth, “that you will make your home here in London. I would like to think that we would continue to have your company.”

  “You are most kind, Miss Rochester,” he returned, bowing briefly. “I would very much enjoy being able to maintain our acquaintance.”

  “Come now, Mr. Grant,” said Lady Lovington brightly. “Surely we are more than acquaintances after all that we have been through together. I hope that you will count us among your friends and not stand on ceremony with us.”

  His eyes grew warm as he glanced her way. “I feel very fortunate to number you among my friends, Lady Lovington. I will most certainly come to call now that I have been invited.”

  Elizabeth was a little annoyed by this response, for it seemed to her that he was speaking too directly to her mother; his gaze then turned to her, including her in the charmed circle, and she was consoled.

  “What have you found out about Mr. Grant?” she demanded of her brother the next night when he came to dinner. “Tell me immediately, Reginald!”

  Her brother turned his snuffbox thoughtfully in his hands for a moment before he spoke. “There is no immediate sign of his being a gambler, Bet. I inquired at several of the clubs he would be likely to frequent and, although two of them report that he has been there, he is not a regular. In brief, Bet,” he said, grinning, “as yet he has no black marks against his name—but give me time.”

  “Time!” she snapped indignantly. “Don’t speak as though we’re eager for there to be something amiss with him—we’re not. I think that you have made a mountain out of a molehill—and I certainly hope that he never discovers that we have been checking upon him. I daresay he would hate us!”

  “Not at all,” protested Reginald. “He would merely think us very sensible for taking such precautions.”

  “Pshaw!” exclaimed Elizabeth inelegantly. “He would be indignant, just as I am on his behalf.”

  “By the way, dear sister, where is your prize pigeon? I haven’t seen him yet this afternoon.”

  “Nor have I,” she said restlessly, “even though he always joins us for dinner. I hope that he hasn’t found out what you’re doing. He could be avoiding us because the investigation annoys him.”

  “I doubt that,” said Reggie. “Whatever he may be, wastrel or not, he has courage and good manners, so he will be here—even if he only comes to call us to order for investigating him.”

  Somewhat comforted, she joined her mother for a game of cards to help to pass the time until his arrival.

  “You seem quite taken with Mr. Grant,” said Lady Lovington to Elizabeth, after some fifteen minutes of play.

  “He is a very pleasant man, Mama. You must admit that,” replied Elizabeth, unwilling to commit herself.

  Her mother nodded. “Even Lucy acknowledges that he has very pretty manners,” said Lady Lovington lightly. “In fact, I haven’t ever seen her quite so taken by a young man. Mr. Grant had better watch his step.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flew to her mother’s face, startled by her comment. Seeing her mother’s quizzical expression, she relaxed. “Oh, you’re only funning, Mama. I should have known, of course. Aunt Lucinda has been a spinster for sixty years, so I daresay that she won’t change her ways.”

  “You can’t be too certain of that, my girl,” announced her aunt from the doorway. “I might just decide to take a young husband to show all of you just how it’s done.”

  Reggie laughed. “I don’t know who’s worse, Aunt Lucy—you or Bet. Bet can never see a joke and you never stop making them. I would think that by now, Bet, you would know that Aunt Lucy and Mama are always funning.” Before Elizabeth could reply, her aunt returned quickly, “And just how do you know that I’m not serious, young man? For all you know, I might have every intention of sweeping Mr. Grant off his feet and carrying him away to Gretna Green.”

  “And I would be ready at a moment’s notice, dear lady,” said Jack Grant, his green eyes merry. Being a member of the household, he had come in without announcement and slipped behind Lucinda, who was now somewhat pink cheeked. “I had no idea that you were interested, or I would have been more attentive, ma’am.”

  He took her hand and bowed low. “Just when does the carriage leave for the border, Miss Rochester?” he inquired.

  Lucinda snapped him
on the shoulder with the fan she always carried, a holdover from her younger, more flirtatious days. “And where would you be, sir, if I were to say that it leaves at ten o’clock tonight?” she retorted. “You would look no-how if you didn’t come and left me waiting by myself.”

  Mr. Grant pursed his lips and regarded her intently. “So it is at ten o’clock we meet, Miss Lucinda?” he asked, his tone passionate. “I may call you Lucinda, may I not, since we shall soon be bound together in marriage? Shall we meet at the foot of the stairs here in the house so that I may escort you to the carriage or would it be more romantic to meet secretly at the carriage?”

  “You rascal!” exclaimed Lucinda, laughing. “I believe that I just may accept you, sir!”

  “I really think that this is quite tasteless,” said Elizabeth stiffly. She was always uncomfortable when her mother and her aunt began to joke. She could never quite perceive where the joke lay, and she was always fearful that she was somehow being laughed at herself.

  “Oh, come now, Bet! Enjoy yourself a little!” exclaimed her brother. “You needn’t take a pet just because Aunt Lucinda has finally decided to marry!”

  Seeing that he had joined forces with the others, Elizabeth rose and removed herself from the drawing room, ignoring the invitations to remain and enjoy herself.

  “I believe that I should check upon Colonel Anderson,” she said. “We have quite forgotten him in the merriment, and I’m sure he wonders what all of the noise is about.” Excusing herself, she left the others to laugh and lay careful plans for the elopement and wedding of Jack and Lucinda. She sat with the colonel through dinner, having her own brought up on a tray, and read to him from Julius Caesar, his favorite work by Shakespeare.

  “You look very despondent, Miss Rochester,” he said gently, removing the book from her hand after the death of Cassius, “and I don’t believe it is entirely because of the play. May I ask what is troubling you?”

  He looked so concerned that her heart was warmed. It was a rare thing when she felt that someone was truly interested in what she had to say.

  “Do you think, Colonel, that it is a great handicap for a young girl if she is not a jokester?” she asked shyly.

  “I shouldn’t think it a handicap at all,” he responded promptly. “In fact, I should say it is quite the opposite. If a young girl were a jokester, I should imagine that would be a handicap indeed.”

  “Really?” she asked, her eyes brightening. Then she remembered. “But, as you know, Colonel, it is no handicap for my mother.”

  “Your mother?” he asked, startled. “I should not say that your mother is a jokester, my dear.”

  “Well, perhaps not just as you are thinking of it, sir—but she does have a sense of humor and she does laugh a great deal. She and Aunt Lucinda have always been great ones for laughing—and Reggie is not much better. I am the one who is the slow-top. I can’t quite seem to do it properly, even when I try.”

  The colonel was still looking at her, his expression shocked. “I have never seen your mother in such a sportive mood as you describe, Elizabeth. Are you quite certain that you are not ascribing some of Reginald’s humor to her?”

  Elizabeth shook her head emphatically. “Mama is the heart of it all,” she said firmly. Then, realizing how shocked he appeared, she thought about the matter for a minute or two.

  “Do you know, Colonel Anderson, I don’t believe that I have seen Mama merry when she is here in the sickroom with you. Possibly because of the accident, she is always serious when she is with you.”

  “Is that so?” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see where that might be possible—but she seems so natural when she is with me. She doesn’t appear to be in the dismals—just quiet and rather reserved. Even though she seldom smiles, her expression is always pleasant.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Mama is usually smiling. I expect that she has just been worried on your behalf.”

  There was a brief silence, then Colonel Anderson nodded. “Perhaps so, my dear. At any rate,” he added more briskly, “I would not worry about trying to change yourself to suit others. You are a lovely young woman, very quiet and peaceful and pleasant. You should not alter a thing about yourself.”

  “Really?” asked Elizabeth, her eyes wide. Never had anyone indicated to her that she was quite perfect as she was. Always she had felt that there was something wanting about her, something that she should be trying to improve. When she went downstairs to join the others, she walked with a lighter, more confident step. The colonel really was most kind.

  Thinking of her conversation with the colonel, Elizabeth made her way to her mother’s chamber that evening before retiring to bed. Lady Lovington was surprised but touched by her daughter’s visit. Elizabeth was not inclined to seek her mother out for private conversation.

  “Is there something wrong, Elizabeth?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern. Elizabeth stood silently for a few moments, apparently unable to articulate her thoughts.

  “Not wrong precisely, Mama,” she began, “but—not exactly right, either. May I ask you something quite personal?”

  “Why, yes, of course, my dear. What is it that you would like to ask?”

  “Tonight when you and Reggie and Aunt Lucinda were laughing about Aunt Lucinda eloping with Mr. Grant—” “Oh, I am sorry that we upset you, my dear. We didn’t intend to do so. We were just teasing.”

  Elizabeth waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, I know that you were. That isn’t what I meant to talk about.” She paused a moment and glanced around, as though looking for inspiration.

  “What I mean to say,” she continued, “is that I always think of you being cheerful, like you were today. But then I wonder—” Here she broke off and stared down at her hands. “You wonder what?” asked her mother curiously.

  “I wonder if you were really happy in your marriages to Papa and Sir George. It didn’t seem to me that you laughed as much when Sir George was present—and when I thought about that, I remembered that you were not always the same when Papa was present. It’s just that he was gone so frequently that I forgot the differences in your behavior—until I saw you with Sir George.”

  “And whatever is making you think of this now, Elizabeth?” inquired her mother carefully. “Is it just because of our playing this afternoon?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Actually, in part it’s because of Jack Grant. He said that you are unhappy but that you don’t wish for us to know it.” She looked at her mother sharply. “Is that true, Mama?”

  Lady Lovington shrugged lightly. “Perhaps there is some truth in what Mr. Grant says,” she conceded.

  Elizabeth stared at her a moment. “But how would Jack have known it when Reggie and I didn’t?” she asked blankly. “He hasn’t known you for much more than a fortnight.”

  Her mother shrugged again. How indeed, she thought. “He appears to be a very perceptive young man,” she replied.

  “Once he said that,” Elizabeth said slowly, “I started thinking about your engagement to Colonel Anderson. He is a great deal in manner like Papa and Sir George, isn’t he?” Lady Lovington nodded, a slight smile curving her lips. “Yes, my dear. It seems that I am drawn to—and draw—the same kind of men again and again.”

  “But, Mama, are they men that make you happy?” she demanded. “And if they don’t, why do you keep seeking them out?”

  From the mouths of babes, thought Lady Lovington. Aloud, she simply said, “Colonel Anderson is a very good and honorable man. He will make a good home for us.”

  “Yes, I know, Mama—but do you love him? Does he make you happy?”

  In the brief silence that ensued, she hurried on. “Colonel Anderson seemed quite surprised when I told him that you liked to joke, Mama. Then I remembered that you always are so quiet and serious when you are with him—and I told him that perhaps that was because of the accident.”

  “And did you tell him that I am different with other people?” asked her mother, and Elizabeth nod
ded silently.

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” said Lady Lovington, staring into the glass as she brushed her hair.

  “Is it because of the accident that you are quieter with him?” persisted Elizabeth.

  After a brief pause, her mother sighed. “I suppose it is because of that, Elizabeth—at least in part. But that certainly isn’t all of the reason. I think that I try to behave differently with the colonel—just as I did with your father and Sir George.”

  “But why would you try to behave differently, Mama, when they have fallen in love with you for who you are?” she asked, more puzzled still.

  “Yes, they do fall in love with me, my dear—but then, once we are married, the things that they thought charming about me are not necessarily so charming any longer—and so they try to change me.”

  “Change you?” said Elizabeth blankly. “Why would anyone wish to change you?” Then, remembering their plan to marry her safely to someone who would perhaps not change her but at least limit her, Elizabeth flushed brightly and buried her face in her arms.

  “That’s horrible!” she exclaimed vehemently. “Too awful to think that once you were married, someone would want to try to remake you!”

  Lady Lovington patted her daughter’s dark head. “You needn’t be concerned for me, Elizabeth—nor for yourself.”

  Elizabeth raised her tear-stained face from a damp sleeve. “Of course I would have to be concerned for myself, Mama. Good Lord! If someone would wish to change you, they would wish to remake me entirely! I would not have a prayer of being accepted!”

  “Of course you would!” exclaimed her mother, pulling her close. “We are very different people, Elizabeth—and I know that you sometimes compare yourself to me and think that you are lacking, but it isn’t true. You have qualities that every gentleman must admire—you are well-bred and quiet and you think before you speak.”

  “I sound deadly dull,” returned Elizabeth wearily.

  “Nonsense!” said Lady Lovington. “Those are qualities that endure and make everyday life pleasant and livable.”