by May Burnett
“You should not marry without settlements,” Amelia said severely. “If you are widowed, or anything else befalls, settlements would protect you. They are also essential if a marriage should be unhappy, and the spouses separate. Without money settled on the wife for her sole and separate use, she would find it much harder to escape from an unwanted husband.”
“I should hope that such a case would never arise between you and Thomas, if you marry my son,” Mrs. Seymour said with a slight frown. “Amelia, as much as I agree with you in general, when you find a man you can trust settlements are unimportant. I married your father without getting him to sign over my fortune back to me.”
“Well, of course, with father that would have been superfluous,” Amelia conceded. “But even so, what if some patient sues him for a fortune, and ruins the clinic? It would be safer to keep your own fortune separate.”
Nell was not surprised to see her hostess’s lips press together in slight irritation. “We shall remember your pessimism when you finally settle on a man, Amelia, and secure part of your dowry to you, just in case. Not everyone sees the world with such suspicion, always expecting the worst.”
“I do trust Thomas,” Nell said, partly to distract Mrs. Seymour from this contentious topic. “If he wants to marry at once, I would not decline just because of settlements. He can always settle a jointure on me once we have won the fortune back from my uncle. If we do, otherwise the issue is moot. Remember that my fortune may never be returned to me. Would you still want me to marry Thomas in that case?”
“If you love each other, it makes no difference,” Mrs. Seymour said with gentle reproof.
“I agree. And somehow I feel that he will not decline either,” Amelia predicted. “So we shall have a wedding here very soon.”
“I cannot legally marry in England without my guardian’s consent,” Nell explained. “Apparently it would be possible in Scotland, and such a marriage would be legal in England.”
“A Gretna Green wedding?” Charlotte wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mrs. Seymour stated firmly. “But one can marry in a church in Scotland, with family around, as respectably as in England. If that is the course Thomas and Nell decide upon, we could all accompany them across the border. You said you wanted to see Edinburgh, Nell? What about having your wedding there?”
“I refuse to say another word on the subject, until I have spoken with Thomas,” Nell declared. “He would be very surprised to find that his family had settled every detail in his absence, without waiting to consult him.”
“Very proper,” Amelia smiled. “We shall not have long to wait, and can begin packing in the meantime, just in case. Do you have anything suitable to wear as a bride?”
Nell shook her head helplessly. “Of course not. I did not have the smallest notion of matrimony when I left the boarding school, and have not had any new clothes made since then.”
“We can do something about that, at any rate,” Charlie said. “Our local seamstress is not up to London standards, but she can do better than what you brought from Liverpool, and works fast. I shall send her a message to attend us right away.”
It was like being on top of a runaway carriage. Nell did not protest any further. She had wondered if her suitor’s family would accept her wholeheartedly – in this flurry of wedding plans she had her answer.
Chapter 16
“You are a year younger than I, just twenty-four,” Roger said, reins in hand, “in other words, a mere infant. How can you possibly be ready for marriage?”
They were speeding along the Great North road in a curricle-and-four, the high-bred greys rushing along the well-paved surface. The congestion of town was far behind them, but traffic was heavy enough to require constant attention, particularly the many drays and slow carts they overtook whenever conditions permitted. The plan was to take turns driving, both cousins being adequate whips.
“Uncle James was no older when he married your mother,” Thomas said, “and that seems to have worked out very well. Women our age are considered to be on the shelf – are you saying I am less mature than the average debutante?”
“That is debatable,” Roger said, with a provocative sideways look, “but I have always been glad that there is no such pressure on us, to settle down as soon as we have left the schoolroom.”
“My sisters are also taking their time about it,” Thomas said, “and so is your own twin. Twenty-five, and pretty as a picture – would you say Vi is on the shelf?”
“I would not dare, or she would make my life hell,” Roger said, “and I am glad she has not settled for some second-rater, but the older ladies in society are looking askance at her lack of interest, and at your sister too. Nobody ever suspected that you would wed before Amelia.”
“It is not a sure thing by any means,” Thomas reminded his cousin. “In fact I was of two minds whether I should even state my interest when it dawned on me who she was, and how much richer. In the end I decided it was only fair to let her know that I was hers for the taking, and not press for an answer until she is ready. By the time we arrive in Yorkshire, she may well have decided not to have me. Charlie is not the most tactful of sisters, and who knows what awful tales she may have told Nell about me? My sisters did not seem greatly in favour of the match when I left.”
“If this girl wants to marry you, she won’t be put off by your sisters.”
“As to whether I am ready, I suspect marriage and fatherhood are not things you study and ready yourself for, like an ordination or a degree. You learn by doing it, well or poorly, and improving on your mistakes. That I feel eager to try, rather than reluctant and fearful, is proof enough of my readiness.”
“Hm.” Roger drove in silence for several minutes, before returning to the conversation. “How soon after meeting this enchantress did you first think of matrimony?”
“Within hours,” Thomas admitted. “But first I thought of kissing her and one thought, um, led to another.” Kissing was the least of the things his imagination had pictured, but no need to draw a picture for Roger. He was worldly enough to guess how it had been.
“She must be attractive.”
“Yes, although at the time she was wearing a wig of blonde corkscrew curls and black widows’ weeds. There was very little of her that I could actually see. The face alone fascinated me, particularly her eyes.”
“Bess Durwent has pretty eyes,” Roger said inconsequentially.
“So she has, just like her mother’s. Nell’s are a different shade of brown, but to me they are irresistible. I don’t know why – when I first met her, I wondered if one of the ladies with whom we had just had tea had added a love potion to my cup.”
Roger laughed at that notion, as well he might. “Surely it would be your beloved herself who would have the best motive for doing that. And then she asked for your help and went away with you, preventing you from concluding your investigation, and from talking to that coroner yourself.”
“That is not how it was,” Thomas protested. “I see why you would be suspicious, from the bare facts, but you will change your mind when you meet Nell.” As much as he liked his relations and appreciated their support, it was beginning to irk how they tried to undermine his confidence in his judgement.
“I am keeping an open mind, Thomas, and want to believe all is as you say, for your sake. And because I look forward to foiling Lord Colville. The more I learn about the man, the more it strikes me that he deserves a comeuppance. Even if your Nell were an impostor, I might be inclined to support her against him.”
“You said he married for money and kept his wife away from fashionable society,” Thomas said, trying to be fair. “The first is common enough in a younger son, and the latter not so terrible.”
“No, but the few times they do go out together, he disparages and mocks her. I have observed as much for myself. No wonder she rarely moves from her town house. Would Lady Colville be considered so awkward and d
ull if her husband supported and defended her, instead of adding to her problems?”
“He does that?” Thomas was shocked. “What a cad. That is nearly as bad as his treatment of Nell.”
“We only have Nell’s word that he intended to seize her fortune and place her in a madhouse,” Roger reminded him. “And she was so young at the time she formed this impression. Can it be that she was mistaken?”
“You will see that Nell is not the kind to panic unnecessarily. From her handwriting alone, one can tell that she is meticulous and organized. If Nell believed her uncle was a mortal threat to her, I believe her. Besides, would an honest man have staged that charade at Chatterham, the supposed drowning?”
“Hardly,” Roger conceded. “If we accept that it was not Lady Marian who drowned there, it is clear that something underhand and shady was going on; either murder or a bold swindle. I hope your theory that the victim only pretended to be drowned is correct.”
“If Hendrickson could find one of the women – the companion, the maid, or the supposed Lady Marian herself – and get them to talk, Lord Colville’s goose would be cooked,” Thomas said wistfully. “Too bad that the chances of that must be a thousand to one.”
“That may be so, but remember the coroner. If he was in the plot, he may be the weakest link. His acting abilities are probably minimal, and he may crumble under the pressure an experienced barrister can bring to bear under cross-examination.”
Thomas brightened at this thought, but any optimism was premature at this point. “First the case has to get to court at all.”
***
They made such excellent time that surely none of their enemies could have overtaken them. When the familiar roof of his home came into view, Thomas’s heart sped up. Within minutes he would see Nell again. From her expression he might divine how his chances stood with her …
“The Manor looks just like it did the first time I came here as a child,” Roger commented. “I look forward to seeing Aunt Belinda and Uncle Richard and your sisters again. But most of all, I am very curious about this girl of yours. After all, London society believes me to be posthumously in love with her.”
Thomas realized with alarm that his cousin might easily catch Nell’s eyes. Roger was almost as tall as he, and generally accounted a very handsome young man. Besides, as a likely future earl he would be a more eligible suitor for an heiress.
Yet if Roger’s expectations of a title weighed with Nell, Thomas had greatly misjudged her. She still might be fascinated by Roger’s smile, or his intellect, but that was a chance Thomas would just have to take.
“I wonder where everybody is,” he said when only two grooms and a footman appeared to take charge of the horses and travellers. “The last time I arrived, with Nell, half the estate was there before we even alighted.”
Roger handed his valise to the footman. “They cannot be far.”
The cousins entered the Manor and followed the sound of voices towards Mrs. Seymour’s sitting room.
Thomas opened the door. His mouth opened in surprise, and words momentarily failed him at the sight that met his eyes.
Nell was standing on top of a solid wooden chair, dressed in a glimmering ivory dress that immediately put him in mind of a wedding. His mother was seated on her chaise longue, but his two sisters, a seamstress and Amelia’s maid surrounded Nell, sticking pins into the fabric with abandon. She had been standing with her eyes closed, but opened them at the current of air entering from the open door.
For a moment she stared at him and Roger, who had stopped behind his shoulder. “Thomas!”
“Oh, no! He is not supposed to see the dress beforehand!” Amelia exclaimed, vexed. “Out, now!”
Nell began to expostulate and Thomas was about to object, but Roger grasped him by the arm and pulled him outside. His cousin was laughing so hard that he could not speak.
“Why did they throw us out?” Thomas said stupidly, until the obvious explanation obtruded itself and he fell silent, stunned and half disbelieving.
“It, it would seem,” Roger was still laughing, “that I must give you my felicitations. And from that one glimpse, I fully understand why you want her. Heiress or not, she is delicious.”
Thomas felt so many things at the same time that he could not reply at once. Elation, surprise, and just a little pique that his mother and sisters, and even his cousin Roger, had known before him that Nell was ready to make him the happiest of men. Yet after all, what did this detail matter? The important thing was that she was ready to marry him, ready to have pins stuck into her to look lovely on the occasion.
“Let’s get something to drink,” was all he said when he had ordered his emotions.
“Good idea. This definitely calls for a toast.”
“Father keeps the good whisky in his study.”
They repaired to that deserted room, and Thomas filled two tumblers with the precious amber-coloured liquid.
“If they are sewing a dress, the ladies must be planning an imminent wedding,” Roger observed. “This may be for the best, if she is really Lady Marian. Gives her the protection of a husband and family – remember what Sir Henry said. It also means that you can claim her fortune right after the wedding, without having to wait for her birthday.”
“Hang her fortune,” Thomas growled and downed a large mouthful of whisky. “I wish she were penniless, and we could just concentrate on a wedding journey, without having to look around every corner to see her uncle or his accomplices lurking.”
“Understandable.” Roger looked into the depths of his own glass. “I do wish you happy, you know. That you have only known the girl for such a short time, and under such strange circumstances, still concerns me. I look forward to meeting her presently.”
“Not until I have had a thorough discussion with her.”
“That goes without saying. In the meantime Aunt Belinda and your sisters will surely tell me all about it.” He moved his glass in a circular fashion, watching the rippling liquid. “Do you sometimes feel that the ladies decide everything important and we are but their puppets?”
“Nonsense.” What could have got into his cousin? “It may seem a little high-handed to decide on a wedding in my absence, but I had asked before her left, and informed my family of my hopes. They are within their rights.”
“I don’t mean this specific instance, so much … don’t listen to me, I must be having a case of the megrims.”
Thomas wondered briefly why Roger sounded so downhearted. He had everything a young man could desire – health, wealth, good looks and prospects. But this was not the moment to sort out his cousin’s inexplicable qualms. He had a wedding to prepare for. What should he wear? Was anything in his wardrobe suitable for such a momentous occasion?
From that one look Nell had thrown him when he surprised her fitting, he knew it did not truly matter. She would take him as he was, for better or worse, as he was determined to take and love and protect her.
The reality of it finally sank in. Thomas whooped, causing Roger to swallow his whisky the wrong way, and forcing Thomas to pound energetically on his cousin’s broad back.
Chapter 17
James Ellsworthy was having breakfast with his wife Charlotte and daughter Violet. In between the conversation he scanned the letters that the butler had placed by his plate.
“You look annoyed,” Charlotte said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
James put down the offending letter. “No, not at all. Just a small problem with one of our investment properties. I would go and deal with it today, but I have an appointment with Selbington at the Society Argus at eleven. Thomas’s affair with the lost heiress must take precedence.”
“And Roger is gone to Yorkshire and George pursuing his studies in Germany,” Violet said. “Maybe I can handle the small problem? What is it about?”
“You?” James looked at his daughter in mild surprise. “I had not realised you took an interest in commercial ventures. They are hardly genteel or
ladylike.”
“Our children know that our wealth comes from such commercial endeavours,” Charlotte said, “it would be hypocritical to turn up our noses at them. But I thought all such details were handled by Jonathan’s staff? It is not often necessary for you to get personally involved.”
That was true enough. James devoted most of his time to his philanthropic activities. “I bought this house in Chelsea five years ago from a fellow member of Brooks’ who was in a temporary embarrassment – he needed cash urgently, claiming it was a matter of life and death. I did pay a decent price, would not want to take advantage of anyone’s desperation,” he added. “But since it is out of the way and hardly comparable to the much larger enterprises they manage, Jonathan’s people were not interested in handling it, and I did not like to insist. I just rented it out and forgot all about it.”
“And what is the matter now?” Violet asked.
“The original tenant left last year, after the lease expired. Since then three successive tenants for the shop on the ground floor have decamped within weeks. There must be some hidden problem, but it is hardly the kind of issue you will want to concern yourself with.”
“Any problem is better than the boredom and ennui I am suffering. Give me the address, and I’ll go have a look.”
James hesitated. But why not? Chelsea was hardly a dangerous wilderness, and Violet was quite as intelligent as his sons, whom he would have sent without qualm. “Very well, I’ll be grateful if you can find out what drives my tenants away. There should be a milliner’s shop on the ground floor, unless they have already closed up. Take a footman as well as your maid.” With the driver as well, she should be safe enough.
“Be careful,” Charlotte warned her daughter. “I would come with you, but I promised to visit Emily at Pell House. I plan to ask her about the Colvilles also; she and Anthony have more Whig acquaintances than we do.”
