When she was not describing the number of different dishes provided at dinner, she was required to be fitted for her new clothes. Her wardrobe for London had been ordered long since, but when she had arrived home bearing six gowns from Lady Carrbridge, and a sketchbook full of drawings of sleeves and trains and shoes and trimmings, all of the latest fashion, her mother had felt obliged to rework almost every garment, and had even ordered new ones. Robinia grew heartily tired of standing still for hours, while the modiste and her seamstresses crawled on the floor with pins.
“I do not see why I need so many gowns,” she protested, for at least the tenth time. “It is only two years since I was last in London, after all, and the fashions have not changed so greatly.”
“Oh, Robinia,” her mother said with glowing eyes, “everything is different now. Under Lady Carrbridge’s patronage, you will be admitted to the first circles, and you would not wish to disgrace your father by wearing gowns from two years ago. You will have very different eyes on you now, my dear.”
She gave Robinia a glance filled with significance. The modiste nodded knowingly and the two seamstresses giggled, for even such lowly persons had been admitted to the knowledge of Robinia’s great triumph at Drummoor — an offer of marriage from the brother of the marquess. Such a gratifying success could not be kept a secret, and although she had told the tale with trepidation, she had been delighted at the reception her news received. She had been congratulated on her conquest, and it was widely agreed that this glorious start to her season must culminate in an even greater prospect. Several neighbours had immediately rushed away to look in Debrett’s for likely possibilities. A duke was, perhaps, too much to hope for, there being so few of marriageable age, but a marquess was not beyond reach, or failing that, an earl at the very least. Robinia had let them chatter on. For herself, she had no such ambitions. She would be content with a much humbler husband.
“Well, missy, you have done well,” her father had said to her. “It is to your credit to attract a man of such standing. Now you can go to London with your head high.”
“Then you are not disappointed in me for refusing him?” she said.
“You had your reasons, I daresay,” he said. “It would have been a good match, but you will receive other offers that may suit you better. You are not a provincial nobody any more. You are a wealthy woman, and may be as choosy as you like. Take your time, enjoy your season and I am sure you will decide well in the end.”
“I hope so,” she said cautiously. “But when I come to marry, I shall not decide solely on the basis of rank or material considerations. I shall look for love as well.”
Her father laughed. “And I hope you find it, little lady. I hope you find it.”
But after a week or so, all the excitement had died down. Her neighbours had nothing new to say about her situation, and the modiste and seamstresses had vanished to work their magic on her new wardrobe, and she was left with the usual round of calls to be made, and the dull days when they all sat at home awaiting callers in their turn. But one dreary wet day brought a surprise. The sound of visitors in the hall was followed by the opening of the door to the morning room.
“The Lord Reginald Marford,” intoned the butler. “Mr Christopher Chisholm.”
Mr Chisholm entered first, in his usual excessively fashionable attire, the coat too wide, the breeches too tight, the hair too disordered, the shirt points too high, and every garment a different colour from every other in a violent clash that offended every sensibility. And behind him Lord Reginald was the exact counterpoint, with his black coat perfectly fitted to his well-shaped form, his hessians shining, his hair, she now realised, stylish without being ostentatious. He looked the very image of a man of restrained taste.
She watched him being introduced by Mr Chisholm, bowing over her mother’s hand and greeting her with his usual practised ease. Then, before she had time to collect her thoughts, Mr Chisholm turned to her.
“And this is Miss Chamberlain, Reggie. But you are already acquainted, I believe?”
“I have indeed had that pleasure. How delightful that we should meet again so soon, Miss Chamberlain. You are well, I trust?”
“Perfectly well, I thank you, my lord.” But her brows snapped together in annoyance. “My health has not deteriorated in the week since we last met.” But the only effect of her barb was to widen his smile a fraction, and seeing her mother’s shocked face, she curbed her irritation. “Were the marquess and marchioness in good health when you left Drummoor?”
“They were. The marchioness sends her kind regards, and looks forward to meeting you again in town.”
Then he was drawn away to be introduced to Cousin William and the Smythes, who were also calling, after which he settled himself beside her mother, making himself agreeable and ignoring Robinia entirely. Within a few moments, her father rushed in to be introduced to so important a visitor, and Robinia had all the irritation of seeing the three of them getting along splendidly.
A quick tilt of Robinia’s head brought Mr Chisholm to her side. He was an old friend, and not someone she had ever thought much about, but now she saw him in the light of an enemy, and could not contain her anger.
“What induced you to bring him here?” she hissed.
“Dear lady, I should have thought that was obvious.” He sniggered in the most irritating manner.
“I meant why is he with you? Have you known him long?”
“Oh, forever. At school together, don’t you know. Never visited before, though. Turned up unannounced yesterday. Sent mama into quite a spin, I can tell you. Just passing, he said, but if he had another motive, dear lady, my lips are sealed on the subject.”
Lord Reginald stayed for the full half hour, and as he rose to leave, Robinia’s mother gushed, “Departing so soon, Lord Reginald? But you must come to dinner. Are you free tomorrow?”
“How very kind, Mrs Chamberlain. I have no other engagements for tomorrow evening.”
“We dine at… at seven,” she said. “And we shall be happy to see Mr Chisholm, too.”
The arrangement made, the two men departed and Robinia had to listen to her mother’s raptures on Lord Reginald’s person and manners and amiability, and endure the speculation in her eyes.
“But I must see cook at once,” she said. “She will need to send to Lincoln for some fish, and a goose, perhaps.”
“Whatever were you thinking to tell him we dine at seven?” Robinia said crossly. “Even in summer, we never eat later than five.”
“It is what he is used to at Drummoor,” her mother said with dignity. “One must adapt one’s habits for so important a visitor.”
When she had rushed off to the kitchens, her father said, “Let your mama enjoy the glory of having a lord in the house, missy. He will be gone away to London soon enough, I daresay, but the memory of it will last her for many a dull day.”
“You realise this one dinner will consume a great portion of our annual candle supply, to say nothing of the cost of sufficient dishes to impress the son of a marquess? You will be obliged to bring out your best claret, too, I daresay.”
He frowned. “An excellent point. We have nothing that would do for a man of such rank. I shall send Billy round to Squire Hempston to beg for a bottle or two of his, for he will be bound to have something suitable, and he owes me a favour for the use of our carriage last winter when his broke.”
Robinia gave it up. Her family seemed determined to expend vast amounts of effort and money on this one visitor, a man who was nothing to her beyond a common acquaintance.
~~~~~
Reggie was quietly pleased by the success of his strategy. Miss Chamberlain was cross with him at first, naturally, but he had expected that and common politeness made it difficult for her to express her feelings. He took the greatest care not to make her uncomfortable with open compliments or the slightest reference to recent events between them, devoting his attentions instead to Mr and Mrs Chamberlain and the two younger
daughters.
Dinner was a very pleasant affair, although he knew perfectly well that Mrs Chamberlain had exerted all her housewifely abilities to provide him with a worthy meal. Her cook was excellent, and he was able to compliment every dish he tried without resorting to the slightest falsehood. It amused him to see the contrivances his hostess was put to in trying to seat him beside Miss Chamberlain, and the efforts of that young lady to avoid such a fate. He thought it prudent to take his cue from the daughter, seating himself between Miss Sophia Chamberlain and her mama, but that situation gave him the pleasure of gazing across the table at Miss Chamberlain, and freely discussing her forthcoming season with her mama.
When the ladies withdrew, he passed a pleasant hour talking of politics with Mr Chamberlain, of horses with Mr Chisholm, and of tailors and bootmakers and neckcloth suppliers with Mr William Chamberlain. No one talked to him openly of intentions or prospects or income, but he took care to let the relevant information fall, seemingly by chance.
Only after he had rejoined the ladies and been handed his cup of tea did he claim a seat beside his quarry. She was perfectly affable, but there was a chill in her manner which boded ill for his hopes for the future. He was careful not to monopolise her, and voluntarily joined a game of whist for the rest of the evening.
He called again at Laurel Grove the next morning. His friend Chisholm declined to accompany him.
“No fear, Marford! I barely darken the Chamberlains’ door more than once a month as a rule, but if I call there three times in as many days, Mrs C will be ordering the banns read. No, I leave the courting to you, and wish you joy of Miss Chamberlain’s forty-three thousand.”
Mrs Chisholm and her sister, however, were more than willing to walk through Brigsby on the arm of a lord. This necessitated a great many changes of apparel before they finally settled on suitable outfits and set out rather late in the morning. The village was small and the walk no more than two hundred yards, but every inhabitant seemed to be out and about that day, and Reggie was introduced to each one of them. If he had had a guinea for every new acquaintance who had responded to the introduction with a wink and a knowing glance on hearing his name, he would have grown rich rather quickly. Then, of course, he was plied with questions about his brother and sister-in-law, their children and homes and even the carriages they kept. He was heartily glad when, at long last, they reached their destination.
As soon as he was admitted to the house, Mrs Chamberlain rushed out to the hall to meet him. “Oh, my lord, I am so sorry, but we could not prevent her! We tried to dissuade her but she would go!”
“You are referring to Miss Chamberlain, I gather?”
“Oh yes, did I not say so? Yes, it is Robinia. Her aunt was owed a visit, she said, and she would go at once. She left this morning. I am so sorry.”
Reggie was not deterred. If Miss Chamberlain wished to make a game of it, he was perfectly happy to oblige her. It was another instance of her spirit, and he was not at all displeased by her resistance.
It took him all of two minutes to wheedle out of her mother the direction of the aunt. King’s Lynn was not so far away, and he had both the means and the inclination to continue the chase. He waited two days, for it would have been rude to rush away from his hostess’s house, especially when Mrs Chisholm was receiving so much enjoyment from the increase in her consequence that his presence brought. But then he took his leave and set off for King’s Lynn.
He had acquaintance there — he had acquaintance in every county in the kingdom — but there was no longer any need for an introduction. He felt he knew Miss Chamberlain well enough now that he might call upon her without any additional excuse, beyond the desire for her company. And he did desire her company, he was growing daily more aware of that. He told himself that the excitement of the hunt was driving him along, but the pleasure of seeing her again was every bit as strong an inducement. And so he bowled his curricle along the road to King’s Lynn, found an inn and ate an indifferent dinner with very pleasant thoughts in his head of the next meeting with his lady.
The next morning he enquired of the ostler the direction of Woodend House, found it to be no more than three miles away and set off immediately. Thus it was that he arrived at an unfashionably early hour, so flustering the maid who answered the door that she showed him directly into the breakfast parlour, where Miss Chamberlain and Mrs Draper were still eating.
“Lord Reginald Marford, madam,” the maid said, rather pink in the cheeks.
The aunt gave a squeak of surprise, but Miss Chamberlain jumped up from her chair, tossing her napkin angrily onto the table.
“Well, really, Lord Reginald!” she exclaimed, her eyes narrowed. “Is there to be no escaping you?”
“Oh, Robinia!” her aunt protested weakly.
“Pray forgive my intrusion, Mrs Draper,” Reggie said, bowing politely. “I was in the neighbourhood and presumed upon my acquaintance with your niece to pay an informal visit, but I see that my arrival is infelicitous.”
“Oh, no, not in the least, Lord Reginald. Delighted, quite delighted. So charmed to meet you after hearing so much about you, as you may imagine. Will you not join us? Hannah, lay another place at once, and tell Mrs Mills to send up some more eggs.”
“I would not trouble you so for the world,” Reggie said. “Although a cup of tea would be most welcome.”
“Of course. Hannah, tea, at once. You know where I keep the key. And more cake — bring the cherry. Mr Dorrington will understand. Please do have a seat, my lord. Yes, that one there. Is not this charming? Robinia, do sit down, dear. Are the roads busy today, my lord? I daresay they must be, for it is market day in South Myre, and the roads are always so crowded on market days. But at least there is no rain, for that makes everything a thousand times worse, would you not agree? Ah, here is the cake. May I tempt you, Lord Reginald? I have no French chef, not like your brother, but Mrs Mills makes a lovely cherry cake — so moist and delicious. It is quite my favourite. There! Try that, and tell me if it is not as fine as any you have eaten. Well! Is this not delightful?”
Reggie ate cake and sipped tea and smiled and nodded, inserting a word or two whenever Mrs Draper’s monologue permitted, and studiously tried not to notice Miss Chamberlain sitting stiffly in her chair, glaring at him.
As soon as he ran out of cake and tea, she jumped up again. “Should you like to walk in the garden, my lord? There is a magnificent lilac tree I would have you see.”
“By all means,” he said equably.
“Aunt Kitty? Will you join us?”
“Of course, dear. Let us fetch our bonnets.”
“I recommend a thick cloak today,” Reggie said. “The sun may be shining, but the wind is from the north, and I should not like either of you to take a chill.”
“How thoughtful!” simpered Mrs Draper.
The garden was not large, but Mrs Draper noticed the gardener on the far side, and strode determinedly off to have a word with him, leaving her niece chaperoned but private enough to speak her mind. Reggie stood under the lilac tree, head bowed, awaiting the onslaught.
“This will not do, Lord Reginald,” she began, and her tone was strident enough to make him quail.
“I see that now,” he said humbly. “It was never my intent to distress you, Miss Chamberlain, nor to repeat the sentiments which you found so little to your liking on a previous occasion. I enjoyed your company at Drummoor, and wished to further my acquaintance with you, there was no more to it than that. I thought perhaps you might be flattered, and begin to think of me more favourably, but beyond that…” He stopped, unwilling to lie, but not willing to touch upon a subject best avoided.
“Beyond that you had best not go,” she said, and now her eyes were flashing dangerously.
“Not yet, but—”
“Not ever!” she snapped. “I am not one of those women who changes her mind with the wind, nor is my opinion of you likely to alter — except for the worse, if you persist in chasing me
all over England.” But she smiled, softening the words. “Lord Reginald, I would spare you pain and so I will speak frankly to you, as a friend. This venture of yours can never succeed, because you can never engage my affections.”
“Never?” he whispered, his heart chilled by the finality of her words.
“Never,” she answered firmly. “It is impossible, although not because of any deficiency in your appearance or behaviour or prospects, all of which are such as to make any rational woman happy. But I am not rational, my lord. I am that most irrational of creatures, a woman thoroughly in love. You cannot win my heart, because it has long been bestowed elsewhere.”
12: London
Miss Chamberlain’s revelation had come as rather a blow. All his careful plans, his hopes and pleasant little dreams of the future were turned to dust. Her composed refusal now took on another aspect, for clearly she had never been tempted by him, and had never so much as considered his offer. He had been wasting his time, for she was in love, and that was an armour he could not dent.
And yet, who could it be? There was no sign of another suitor in Lincolnshire, for Mrs Chamberlain would surely have warned him if she had thought her daughter’s heart already given. It could not be anyone in London, either, for Miss Chamberlain had not been there for two years, and any attachment made then would surely have come to fruition by now. It was a puzzle, and he could only suppose she had met someone at a private house party. But whatever the truth of the matter, there was nothing further to be done in respect of Miss Chamberlain, and his thoughts now turned to the imminent commencement of the season.
Reggie was rather fond of London in the season. He was aware that he had never had to scramble for acceptance in the way that others might. As the son of a marquess, he was admitted everywhere, received invitations to every occasion of note and was smiled upon by almost everyone. As the younger son of a marquess, he was not sought out by the most ambitious mamas, who wished their daughters to aim for a real title, but there were plenty of lesser aristocracy and gentry who would willingly ally themselves with the Marford family and see their daughter rise to become Lady Reginald. He had learnt at an early age not to pay too much attention to such daughters, but it was pleasant to distinguish one or two who might otherwise have been overlooked in the throng. He was very good at doing his duty — chatting to the matrons, taking notice of tongue-tied younger sons and escorting nervous young ladies in the dances. This year, as always, he smiled and danced and paid morning calls and no one, to look at him, would have guessed how downcast he was.
Sons of the Marquess Collection Page 11
