The Penniless Bride

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘I suppose that most people will believe it,’ Letty said with a smile. ‘But I do thank you for telling me the truth, dearest Jemima.’

  Jemima gestured to the tumbledown summer-house that sat on a little rise above the bank. ‘Shall we sit awhile, Letty? I would like to talk and it is not often one gets the chance.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I have a dreadful suspicion that now your grandmother knows the whole, I do not believe we shall have the chance to meet again at all!’

  Letty bent on her a look of lively amazement. ‘Oh, surely it cannot be so bad? Although the matter is unfortunate, Grandmama will see that no blame can attach to you.’

  Jemima took a deep breath. ‘If that were all, then I might hope for her indulgence,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately, Rob has also told her that I am a chimney sweep’s daughter and that he and I married in order to meet the terms of his father’s will. There!’ She gave a long sigh. ‘I have said it all!’

  There was a clatter as Letty dropped her parasol on the wooden floor of the summer-house. She bent down to retrieve it, her eyes still fixed on Jemima’s face. ‘A sweep’s daughter? You?’

  She sounded so incredulous that Jemima smiled. ‘I fear so.’

  ‘Well…but…’ Letty turned pink. ‘That is not so bad. I mean, a wife takes her husband’s place in society, after all, and plenty of gentlemen marry ladies who are not…I mean…they marry the daughters of cits and tradesmen—’

  She broke off. ‘Oh, dear, I did not mean it to sound like that! Besides, you went to Mrs Montagu’s school, did you not? And no one would guess…’ She put her hands up to her scarlet cheeks. ‘Drat! I was so determined not to sound snobbish like Augusta and I have just made the most utter mull of it!’

  Jemima laughed. ‘You are not a snob, Letty. I expect I took you by surprise. I do apologise for shocking you.’

  ‘I am not shocked,’ Letty said stalwartly. Jemima could tell she was lying and that she was in fact shocked to the core. ‘Only…you said that you married Rob to fulfil the terms of his father’s will?’

  Jemima nodded. ‘I fear so. He was required to marry a lady who attended Anne Selborne’s wedding. He asked me.’

  She was surprised to see Letty’s eyes light up like stars. ‘But that is capital, Jemima! I thought that you meant you had made an arranged marriage, but now I see that Rob chose you!’

  ‘The field was not large,’ Jemima pointed out drily.

  ‘No, but he preferred you to Augusta,’ Letty said incontrovertibly.

  ‘That,’ Jemima said, ‘is not flattering, Letty!’

  They laughed together. ‘Anyway,’ Letty said shyly, ‘however the marriage started, it is clear to see that Rob adores you, Jemima.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘He is lovely, isn’t he? I had the most shocking crush on him when I was younger. I used to follow him everywhere and make a frightful fool of myself.’

  ‘Well,’ Jemima said, ‘Rob is very fond of you so I do not suppose it did any harm. Have you never wished to marry, Letty?’

  Letty’s pretty little face dropped slightly. ‘I suppose not. That is, I have never met a man who engaged my interest sufficiently to make me wish to marry him. And no one asked me, so…’

  ‘No one asked you?’ Jemima raised her brows. She found that very difficult to believe. Miss Exton, she was sure, should have been beating the suitors off with sticks.

  ‘Did you have a season?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Letty rubbed her fingers over the smooth handle of her parasol. ‘Uncle Simon, Rob’s father, paid for me to have my come out, but Augusta—’ Her face crumpled. ‘I should not tell tales out of school.’

  Jemima frowned. ‘Has Augusta done something particular to upset you, Letty?’

  Letty grasped Jemima’s hand gratefully. ‘Not precisely, but…’ Letty wrinkled up her nose ‘…Augusta ruined my season, you see. At the time I did not realise what she was doing, but now I see…’

  ‘What happened?’ Jemima asked.

  ‘I was only seventeen and fresh from the country,’ Letty said. ‘Whenever I seemed to attract a beau, there would be Augusta, sparkling and distracting their attention…She had plenty of Town bronze, you see, and she made me feel very green.’

  Jemima was beginning to think that something needed to be done to fix Augusta.

  ‘She must have been jealous of you, Letty. You are far prettier than she is.’

  ‘Blondes were not in fashion,’ Letty said sadly. ‘I was considered Unfortunate.’

  ‘Oh, dear. How silly. So your season was not a success.’

  ‘No, and then there was no more money to go up to London, so I stayed in the country with Grandmama. And though I met some gentlemen in Town on this visit, Augusta said that they would only be tempted to take me off the shelf now that I am coming into some money. That rather spoilt it for me, I confess.’

  ‘I am not surprised,’ Jemima said briskly, hating Augusta’s malicious little digs. ‘It seems a great pity that you were obliged to invite Miss Selborne to your birthday ball.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so.’ Letty sighed. ‘Bertie Pershore is very sweet and Ferdie is quite charming, but Augusta is enough to ruin any house party.’

  Jemima laughed and patted her hand. ‘Just remember that you have the looks and the fortune, Letty!’

  Letty twinkled. ‘I confess it will be prodigiously nice to be a little bit rich. We have always been quite dreadfully poor, you see. Although one should not refine too much upon material things, it will be nice to have beef for dinner occasionally!’

  ‘Your fortune is in trust?’ Jemima enquired.

  ‘Yes. Papa left me a competence, not a fortune, but it will seem like riches to me.’ Letty gave a shy smile. ‘The Extons have never been rich, you see. My parents died when I was very young, Jemima, and Grandmama has always brought me up.’

  Jemima thought about the frosty Lady Marguerite and wondered what on earth it had been like to be a small girl in such a household.

  ‘Did you like that?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Letty beamed. ‘Grandmama is exceedingly kind under her crusty exterior!’

  ‘Is she?’ Jemima could not help the incredulity sounding in her voice and Letty gave a peal of laughter.

  ‘Yes, she is! Once she decides to like you, you will see for yourself.’

  ‘I hardly think that that is likely to happen now,’ Jemima said, a little sadly. ‘She cannot but disapprove of me.’

  Letty shook her head. ‘Grandmama wishes above all things to see Rob happy and settled at Delaval, Jemima. That is the only thing that will concern her.’

  Jemima wished that she had Letty’s confidence. She could imagine Lady Marguerite sweeping from the house in high dudgeon, never to return.

  Jemima watched as Letty pleated her skirt material with tiny, jerky movements. Clearly there was still something troubling her new friend.

  A second later, Letty said, ‘You said that Tilly was your niece, Jemima…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Then she must be your brother’s child? Or perhaps…’ Letty brightened ‘…you have other siblings, Jemima?’

  Jemima felt a huge pang of sympathy for her. Letty looked so hopeful, yet it was impossible. Even without Tilly it was impossible.

  ‘Tilly is Jack’s daughter,’ she said gently. ‘I am sorry, Letty.’

  Letty bit her lip. ‘It does not matter. I thought she must be. She has his eyes.’

  There was a silence. Jemima could tell that Letty wanted to ask more questions, but was too well bred to persist. Besides, what could she tell her friend?

  ‘My brother is a chimney sweep; he is barely literate; he has fathered an illegitimate child and it is foolish to think that there could ever be anything between the two of you when you are the sheltered child of a gentleman and he is so very far beneath you…’

  Letty had said it herself when she had observed that a wife took on her husband’s position in society. The reverse was never true. Jemima sighed. She could also have sai
d that Jack was loyal, brave, kind and had his own code of honour, but it would make no odds. He and Letty could never be together.

  ‘I suppose I shall end up marrying Ferdie Selborne or Mr Pershore,’ Letty said with a sigh.

  Jemima smiled. ‘I should not be too hasty to do that,’ she said. ‘Not unless you care for either of them, of course.’

  Letty giggled. ‘Oh, I like them both prodigiously, but love…? Ferdie looks like a heron and is a dreadful libertine. Grandmama would have apoplexy if I said I wished to marry Ferdie!’

  ‘And Mr Pershore? He is no rake.’

  Letty giggled even more. ‘Bertie? No, indeed he is not. But you must have observed, Jemima, that Bertie, whilst being the sweetest creature in Christendom, is not the world’s finest mind!’

  ‘Oh, Letty,’ Jemima said, laughing, ‘that is a little unkind.’

  ‘And he drinks. Did you see him at breakfast?’

  ‘I thought he was drinking water?’

  ‘By the bucketful. Apparently he got so foxed at the Speckled Hen last night that Ferdie had to carry him home! He was completely insensible. He only got up for breakfast because he is afraid of Grandmama.’ She smiled. ‘Oh, look! Here he comes now.’ She raised her voice. ‘Would you care to sit down, Mr Pershore? You are looking very peaky.’

  Bertie Pershore was indeed looking very sickly indeed. He tottered towards them and lowered himself on to the bench gingerly, wincing as the sunlight caught his eyes.

  ‘Servant, Lady Selborne, servant, Miss Exton,’ he muttered. ‘Must apologise…Always was sensitive to turtle soup!’

  ‘Of course,’ Jemima said sympathetically. ‘Did you have a pleasant evening yesterday, Mr Pershore?’

  ‘Don’t remember any of yesterday night, ma’am,’ Bertie said, wincing again. ‘Turtle soup is the devil for playing havoc with my memory.’

  Letty giggled. ‘Come, come, Bertie, we know that you were down at the Speckled Hen with Ferdie! Where is Ferdie now?’

  ‘Going over the stables with Rob,’ Bertie groaned.

  ‘And did you not wish to join them?’ Jemima asked.

  Bertie turned an even more ashen grey. ‘No, thank you, ma’am. Smell of the stables, you know. Turns the stomach.’

  ‘You should go and lie down until you recover from the soup,’ Letty said, giggling. ‘Quickly, Mr Pershore! Grandmama is coming.’

  Between them they hoisted a groaning Mr Pershore to his feet, took an arm each, and steered him down the path towards the house.

  ‘Mr Pershore!’ Lady Marguerite was bearing down on them at full speed. Bertie groaned again.

  ‘Don’t leave me!’

  ‘Mr Pershore.’ Lady Marguerite’s cool blue eyes surveyed the hapless gentleman. ‘Do not stand around in the full sun if you are feeling delicate. I have a restorative that will do the trick. Go inside and one of the footmen will bring it to you.’

  ‘Very good of you, ma’am, but I am not sure there is a restorative for turtle soup—’ Bertie began.

  ‘Soup, fiddlesticks! You are foxed, man, good and proper. Stop pretending.’

  ‘Don’t know what they put in the ale at that inn,’ Bertie muttered, going scarlet. ‘I swear to you, ma’am, that I can hold my liquor better than this.’

  Lady Marguerite shooed him towards the house. ‘Run along, Bertie. And perhaps, if you are very good from now on, Merlin need not hear about this.’

  ‘You probably know that the Duke of Merlin is Bertie’s uncle,’ Letty whispered in Jemima’s ear. ‘He is a terrible tartar with poor Bertie!’

  Jemima was feeling a little sick. She was sure that any moment now Lady Marguerite would probably turn around and rip her to shreds…

  ‘Now then, girls—’ Lady Marguerite turned back to them ‘—we are to go calling this morning.’ She turned to Jemima. ‘There are various ladies in the neighbourhood who are anxious to meet you, my dear, and I would like to introduce you to some of the guests who are to be at Letty’s ball. That way you will already have an acquaintance when you go to the ball, and need not feel so new.’

  ‘That is very kind of you, ma’am,’ Jemima said, reeling from being called ‘my dear’ and trying not to sound too astonished. Had Rob not spoken to his grandmother after all?

  ‘Robert should have thought of it already, of course,’ Lady Marguerite said, ‘but gentlemen are very slow about these things and I hear that he has been keeping you very much to himself.’ She caught Jemima’s blush and smiled. ‘No need to look embarrassed, child. That is as it should be. I am glad to see him so happy.’ She looked around. ‘Lud, Augusta is coming this way. Come along, girls, before she catches up with us.’

  ‘She has decided to like you,’ Letty whispered to Jemima, as they hurried to keep up. ‘I told you she would!’

  ‘Stop whispering, Letty dear,’ Lady Marguerite said sharply, from in front. ‘It is most vulgar.’

  ‘Your grandmother reminds me of Mrs Montagu,’ Jemima said in an undertone, when she was sure that Lady Marguerite was far enough ahead of them not to overhear. ‘She could always tell if we were talking in class even when her back was turned.’

  ‘Splendid woman, Mrs Montagu,’ Lady Marguerite called over her shoulder. ‘I was delighted to hear that you were one of her pupils, Jemima dear.’

  Letty and Jemima exchanged a look and giggled. ‘Why do you think your grandmother has decided to like me?’ she whispered to Letty.

  ‘Because Rob loves you,’ Letty said artlessly. ‘We have all observed it, dearest Jemima. He is utterly sweet on you.’

  And she scampered to catch up with Lady Marguerite, leaving Jemima to follow behind more slowly.

  ‘Rob loves you…He is utterly sweet on you.’

  There was no reason for Letty to be correct, of course. Jemima knew that Rob had shown her tenderness and understanding and kindness beyond anything that she had experienced before. But love? There she was a novice, with no means of judging. He had spoken to her of desire and passion, but he had said no words of love. Yet still a small part of her hoped that it was true.

  The carriage rattled down the green country lanes as they travelled the neighbourhood making their calls. Everyone was most anxious to meet the new Lady Selborne, and though Jemima met with much veiled curiosity about the suddenness of her marriage, most people were friendly and Letty and Lady Marguerite were staunch in their support of her.

  ‘I am glad that Sir Henry and Lady Vause will be attending the ball,’ Letty said, as the carriage pulled away from Verne Manor, the last call of the morning. ‘I like Chlorinda and I have often thought that she would make the perfect wife for Bertie Pershore.’

  ‘Henwit,’ Lady Marguerite said succinctly, though she was not referring to Letty. ‘One henwit in the family is enough. Bertie needs to marry a clever woman.’

  Letty shivered. ‘Was that not a dreadful story that Lady Vause was telling us? A man murdered at the Speckled Hen last night, and Ferdie and Bertie both there the very same evening!’

  ‘That’s what you get for drinking in a common tavern,’ Lady Marguerite said sharply. ‘Ferdie always was a ramshackle fellow.’

  ‘Oh, Ferdie is all right, Grandmama,’ Letty said smiling. ‘He is quite harmless really.’

  They were driving through the Wychwood Forest on their way back to Delaval. The place made Jemima shiver a little. This was no pleasant woodland like the one that encircled Delaval. Here the trees pressed together closely, rank on rank like soldiers lined up for battle. It was thick and dark along the track and made her nervous. She was still not completely at ease in the country.

  Letty peered out of the window. ‘This is where Tom, Dick and Harry were hanged on the gibbet, Jemima. You have heard the tale of the highwaymen? It always seems to me a haunted place.’

  ‘Young girls, too much imagination,’ Lady Marguerite said.

  ‘I did not think that there were many highwaymen these days,’ Jemima said. ‘Highway robbery seems quite out of fashion.’

  ‘O
f course it is,’ Lady Marguerite said crossly. ‘Very bad ton.’

  The words had barely left her mouth when a shot rang out. The coach rocked as the horses plunged between the shafts. There was an explosion of noise. The coachman was shouting and the groom was running to the horses’ heads as he tried to prevent them from toppling the coach into the ditch.

  ‘Stand and deliver!’

  ‘Botheration!’ Lady Marguerite grumbled.

  ‘No highwaymen in Wychwood?’ Letty murmured, as the door of the carriage was wrenched open. ‘There are now.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  At first glance the man standing in the doorway of the coach was the archetypal highwayman. He had scuffed black leather boots, black trousers, a shabby black tricorne pulled down low over his eyes and a neckcloth over the lower part of his face. His eyes above the mask were black as coal and a lock of equally dark hair escaped from beneath the hat. About his shoulders was a black cloak, but on closer inspection Jemima realised that it was in fact a large soot sack, split in half and draped around him. She looked at the man’s face again. She opened her mouth to speak. One of the pistols moved in her direction.

  ‘Out!’

  Jemima closed her mouth again.

  ‘I most certainly will not get out of my carriage on the whim of some scoundrel!’ Lady Marguerite looked down her nose. ‘Be off with you, man!’

  ‘Grandmama,’ Letty said in an agonised whisper. ‘Pray do as he says.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Lady Marguerite said, sitting back against the cushions as though the matter was quite decided. ‘I dislike to be inconvenienced like this.’

  The highwayman looked amused and not in the least discomposed. The lines about his eyes crinkled as he smiled. ‘Very well, ma’am.’ He gave a little half-bow. The pistol moved again as he turned towards Jemima and Letty. ‘Ladies, if you please…’