The Bridal Quest

by Candace Camp

  Her words surprised a gurgle of laughter from Lady Claire, who quickly covered her mouth with her hand to hide the sound as she shook her head reprovingly at her daughter. Then she took a sip of tea and set her cup down, saying brightly, "Well, now, after we finish breakfast, we must go through the yarns and pick out something for a baby blanket. Won't it be fun, making things for the baby?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Her mother chattered on, paying no attention to the dryness of Irene's tone.

  "Booties and caps and little sweaters—oh, there is nothing sweeter than baby clothes."

  Irene supposed it would be a pleasant task if she had more affection for the mother-to-be. However, it was important to keep her mother's mind on enjoyable topics and off the worry of displeasing her daughter-in-law, so Irene went along without protest, retiring to her mother's room to pull out yarns and knitting instructions, and listening to her mother chatter on about cradle caps, embroidered gowns and receiving blankets. It seemed that the arrival of a baby would require more articles of clothing than a bridal trousseau.

  She tried to steel herself for the task of keeping Maura happy. It would be, she thought, an impossible goal, but still, for her mother's sake, Irene knew that she had to try. It galled her to think of catering to Maura's whims, of biting back her own opinions whenever they disagreed with her sister-in-law's, of putting on a pleasant smile whenever Maura chose to criticize her. However, if she did not do those things, she would, she knew, subject her mother to endless worry. Claire would take it upon herself to apologize and excuse and try to please Maura if Irene crossed the woman, and Irene could not bear to think of her mother debasing herself in that way to a woman who should be thanking her stars that she had Lady Claire for a mother-in-law.

  More than ever, Irene wished that she could take her mother away from this house. But she was well aware that the few options for earning money that were open to a gentlewoman, such as hiring out as a governess or a companion, would not provide enough income even for them to let rooms. Part of the compensation in such jobs was the provision of a genteel place in which to live, but one could not bring along a dependent to live there, as well. And even if she could provide enough money by doing one of those things, or by taking in sewing or working in a shop somewhere, her mother would be aghast at the idea of leaving her son's house to move into some small place on their own. It would reflect badly on Humphrey for them to do so, Claire would explain, and she would never do that to her son.

  Irene's thoughts were bleak as she contemplated how their lives would change with the coming of a new baby. Maura would be even more puffed up with her own importance at producing a child for Lord Wyngate, especially if it turned out to be a boy and heir. Irene could well imagine the sort of sweetly pitying remarks she would make to Irene regarding the fact that she would never know the satisfaction and joy of motherhood, the needling about Irene's wasted opportunities and lack of effort to acquire that most basic of necessities for a woman: a husband.

  She was relieved that Maura stayed in her room all morning, not emerging until after luncheon. But the pleasant interlude could not last, and early in the afternoon Maura rejoined Irene and Lady Claire in the sitting room, where Claire had already begun work on knitting a blanket.

  Maura was a trifle paler than usual, and she played the role of invalid to the hilt, sending servants to fetch her shawl, then her fan, then a stool upon which to set her feet, and letting Lady Claire tend to her, tucking the shawl in around her and jumping up to reposition the stool when it did not exactly suit Maura. However, Irene kept her tongue still, maintaining a pleasant smile on her face as she listened to Maura prattle on about the upcoming blessed event, interspersing her remarks with frequent sighs and complaints.

  When one of the maids came into the room to announce a visitor, Irene was grateful for the diversion. It was with some amazement, however, that she heard the maid announce that Lady Haughston had come to call. She glanced toward her mother and saw an equally puzzled look on her face. Francesca Haughston had never been a frequent caller to their home, and since Maura had arrived, her calls had stopped entirely. Irene could scarcely blame her; she would have avoided Lady Maura's conversation herself, if only she could.

  But it seemed strange that Francesca should suddenly have reappeared, especially after she had sought Irene out last night at the party. However, Maura clearly saw nothing strange about the other woman's arrival. She beamed at Lady Haughston and greeted her effusively, then proceeded to chatter away for the next few minutes without giving Francesca a chance to interject anything more than an occasional "Indeed?" or "Oh, really?"

  It did not surprise Irene that Francesca soon began to stir a little restlessly in her seat, and she suspected that their visitor would cut the call short at the first chance she had. Sure enough, when Maura at last paused for a moment, Francesca quickly jumped into the brief silence to tell them that she was sorry she could not stay any longer.

  "I was about to take a ride through the park," she explained. "And I just thought I would drop by to ask Lady Irene if she would care to join me."

  Maura's face fell almost comically, and Irene hastened to speak before Maura could come up with some reason why she could not spare Irene's company this afternoon.

  "Why, yes, Lady Haughston, that sounds most pleasant."

  Irene rang for a servant to fetch her a bonnet and pelisse, and whisked Francesca out of the room, warding off Maura's broad hints about a ride doubtless being just the thing she needed to cure her feeling out of sorts.

  "Oh, no, dear sister," Irene told her with syrupy smile to match Maura's own. "I am not at all sure that that would be the best thing for you. You must be very careful now, mustn't you? You know how your back was aching just a few minutes ago. I fear a carriage ride would not be at all the thing for you." She gave her a significant look and appealed to Lady Claire. "Don't you agree, Mother?"

  "Oh, yes. Lady Maura and I will be just fine here," Claire agreed, patting Maura's arm. "Won't we, dear?"

  As they left the house, Francesca made no mention of Irene's clear desire to escape her sister-in-law but kept up a light conversation about the weather, her open-air brougham—"so unfashionable now, I suppose, for it must be all of ten years since Lord Haughston gave it to me, but it was his first gift to me, so I could not give it up, could I?"—and the ball at the Spences' home the evening before.

  As soon as they were settled in the aforementioned brougham, the driver started forward, and they wheeled down the street and turned toward Hyde Park. For a moment they were silent, enjoying the soft golden sunshine and crisp air of the autumn day. Irene turned her head to study her companion.

  Francesca, feeling Irene's gaze upon her, glanced at her, and the distinctive dimple creased her cheek as she smiled.

  "I vow, I can almost hear the wheels in your head spinning," she said lightly. "Go ahead. Why start holding back now?"

  A little breath of laughter escaped Irene. "You surprise me, Lady Haughston."

  "Please, call me Francesca. We have known each other since your come-out. Do you not think it is time we call each other by our given names?"

  "Why?" Irene retorted. "Are we about to become bosom friends?"

  Her blunt words did not seem to bother Lady Haughston, whose smile merely widened. "Why, as to that, I know not. But I would not be surprised if we were to know each other better soon."

  "And why is that? I do not mean to complain, for I am excessively grateful to you for inviting me for a ride this afternoon, but I confess that I am at something of a loss to explain your sudden interest in me."

  "I could say that I found your candor refreshing yesterday evening—it is quite true, after all—and I thought I might liven up this afternoon with your company."

  "What would you say if you were to tell me the actual reason I am in your carriage right now? Did Lady Wyngate approach you? Has she asked you to ... help me find a husband?" Red spots of anger and embarrassment bloomed o
n Irene's cheeks.

  Francesca turned to her, surprise marking her features. "Lady Wyngate? Your mother? Why would she— No, no, she has never said such a thing."

  "Not my mother. Lady Maura,. Humphrey's wife. Did she talk to you about me?"

  "No. I assure you. I scarcely know Lady Wyngate. Why would you think she would say something like that to me?"

  "Because she wishes me to be married and out of the house," Irene retorted with some bitterness. She cast an abashed glance at Francesca. "I am sorry. You must think me quite foolish. I know you are not friends with Maura. It is just that she was plaguing me the other day about my spinster state, urging me to talk to you. She said that any girl you took up ended by marrying well. She thinks you have the golden touch, I suppose. I was afraid ..."

  "I would not have discussed you with your sister-in-law," Francesca told her mildly.

  Irene looked at her and saw the sincerity in Francesca's face. "I am sorry," she said quickly. "I should not have assumed you would go along with one of Maura's schemes. It was just so odd, right after Maura telling me that I should get your help."

  Francesca nodded. "I understand."

  Irene could see the sympathy in the other woman's face, and she realized that Francesca understood even more than Irene had expressed. "I am sure that it is difficult for you," the older woman said delicately. "Living with a new sister-in-law."

  "I despise it," Irene replied candidly. "A good deal of it is my own fault, I know. I am accustomed to running the house, you see, to being my own mistress. It is hard to give that up, I suppose."

  "I would not think that you and Lady Wyngate would ever have been likely to be bosom friends."

  "It is a wonder that we have not yet gotten into a hair-pulling fight," Irene said with a wry smile, a little surprised to find herself talking to Francesca about her problems. Irene would never have thought that she would particularly like Francesca, but she was finding her very easy to talk to.

  Francesca laughed. "Well, perhaps you should think of getting married, then. It would get you away from Maura. You would be the mistress of your own house."

  "No, I would be the mistress of my husband's house, with nothing of my own and under a man's entire control. 'Tis far easier to put up with Lady Maura's barbs and petty attempts to run my life. At least at Humphrey's house I have a brother who defends me, at least sometimes, from his wife's edicts. And I am not legally under her thumb. With a husband, one is entirely at his mercy."

  Francesca cast her a startled look, but said only, "There are those who are loved and cherished by their husbands."

  "It is always a gamble, though, is it not?" Irene shot back.

  Francesca shrugged. "Most women want to find husbands. They are quite happy with the married state."

  "I must point out that you have not remarried, though it has been several years since your husband died," Irene told her shrewdly.

  Francesca blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "Perhaps I felt I could not again find such love as I had with Andrew."

  Irene grimaced. "Forgive me, but I was acquainted with Lord Haughston. He was one of my father's boon companions. I am well aware of how he spent his time, for I know how my father spent his."

  Francesca replied levelly, "It would be false to say that you are wrong. However, my position as a widow is much less uncomfortable than yours as a dependent in-law. It is far easier for me to avoid marriage. Anyway, I am not a good example to use." She turned her head away, gazing out across the street, as she went on. "I married foolishly. I am sure you would not make the same sort of choice I did."

  "I am sorry," Irene said, feeling a flash of regret for her blunt words. "I should not have spoken so about your husband. My tongue often gets the better of me. As you know, I have a reputation for it. I did not mean to hurt you."

  "Nay, do not worry about it." Francesca smiled at her. "There is no harm in telling me the truth ... although I would not advise you do so with others in the general course of things. Most people, I believe, would take your candor amiss."

  Irene smiled back, and they drove on in silence for a moment. Then she said, "After you introduced me to Lord Radbourne last night, he informed me that he was searching for a wife and was willing to consider me as a candidate."

  "I see." Francesca raised her eyebrows fractionally. "The earl is not, I think, known for his subtlety."

  "Indeed. I informed him that I was not interested in marrying, and I would have thought that would be an end to it. But then you came to the house to invite me out for a ride, and here we are, once again talking about marriage. Am I to believe it is a coincidence?"

  Francesca gazed back at her for a long moment, then gave a little shrug. "Lord Radbourne's great-aunt is Lady Odelia Pencully, and she asked for my help. You are right in saying that I seem to have acquired a certain reputation for—" she gestured vaguely, her expression amused "—for making matches. The earl's family is eager to find him a wife. You know, I am sure, of the tragedy of his past. They feel that the proper spouse would facilitate his taking his rightful place in the ton."

  "And they thought that I would be the proper spouse?" Irene asked in disbelief. "What makes me a good candidate for that position? Do they think that because I am a spinster, I must be desperate enough to wed any man, even one I hardly know?"

  "There is no need to wed without coming to know him first," Francesca pointed out mildly.

  At the spark that flared in Irene's golden eyes, Francesca held up her hands placatingly, her inviting laughter tumbling out. "No, no, do not fire up at me, pray. I was making a jest. No one is asking you to agree to marry the man. His family wanted me to think of eligible young women who might be willing to consider marriage, and Lord Radbourne asked to meet you. so I introduced you to him. His grandmother intends to hold a party at their country estate—or at least Lady Odelia intends that his grandmother will do so, which means that it will be done. I feel it is only fair of me to point out that if you were to go to the party, you would be able to become better acquainted with Lord Radbourne."

  "I do not need to become better acquainted—with him or any man. My mind has long been set against marriage." Irene turned to Francesca, looking straight into her face. "You knew my father, did you not?"

  Francesca glanced away. "Yes. I realize the sort of man he was."

  "I am not sure you do." Irene went on. "I imagine that much of the ton knows that he was a libertine. A rake. He gambled and drank and indulged himself with countless barques of frailty. He made my mother's life a misery. But her misery was not solely because of his actions outside our home. When he was in the house, believe me, we all wished that he were out. He was loud, overbearing and bad-tempered, and when he had been drinking, which was much of the time, he was completely unreasonable and apt to use his fists to make his point. Everyone in the house, from my mother down to the servants, was afraid of him. I swore that I would never put myself in the position that my mother was in. I would never subject myself to the whims of any man."

  "But you see, with this marriage, you would not be without power," Francesca pointed out. "His family is talking about an arranged marriage, a businesslike arrangement. You would have a great deal of bargaining power. No doubt you could get them to agree in writing to an assured allowance or some sort of guaranteed settlement."

  "Even so, once we were married, I would be under his control. I would no longer have any rights. I would be subject to my husband's decisions."

  Francesca did not reply, and Irene continued. "In any case, if I were to agree to such a marriage, it would certainly not be to the Earl of Radbourne." Color mounted in her cheeks again, and her eyes took on a golden glow. "He is insufferably rude and boorish. I have never met a man I would like less to marry. He is arrogant and bullheaded and—"

  She stopped, visibly pulling herself back under control. She took a shaky breath. "In any case, I do not imagine that it matters now. I rebuffed him last night at the dance—rather decisively
. I feel sure that Lord Radbourne would no longer be interested in me."

  Francesca, who had been watching Irene with a great deal of interest, opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, then went on. "Well, as to that, I do not know. And, of course, if you are so set against it, I would not push you. I would not think of asking you to do anything you would not want to. I merely thought, when Lady Odelia told me, that it might be a proposition in which you would be interested. You always were, I thought, that rare sort of woman who is more ruled by her head than by her heart."

  Irene regarded Francesca narrowly for a moment. She was not sure whether Francesca was simply being truthful or attempting to maneuver her into changing her position. Francesca was correct that she was a woman who believed strongly in running her life with thoughts rather than emotions, and in that regard, she supposed it did seem a trifle peculiar that she would dismiss a practical marriage, one that others would consider a logical proposition. Could it be that she was allowing her fears to sway her from doing what was best for her and her mother?

  But she quickly shook aside that thought. "I am ruled by my head. I know what can result from marriage, and so I refrain from allowing my hopes to sweep me into something foolish."

  Francesca nodded. "Of course. Then let us say nothing more about it."

  She then began to chat of other things, surprising Irene somewhat with her easy acquiescence in letting the topic drop. Irene joined in the conversation, thinking that it was very easy to like Francesca. She did not speak of anything serious or remarkable, perhaps, but she made conversation easy and somehow infused ordinary things with interest. Her laughter was quick and appealing, and it occurred to Irene that perhaps she had never given the other woman a chance, merely dismissed her as foolish and superficial. Though she did not touch on important issues, she was possessed of an agile wit, and there was a certain warmth about her that took away the sting from gossip.