First Comes Marriage

by Mary Balogh

  “I suppose so,” he said. “But he shows an interest in his land and its workings and in the prospect of taking on all the responsibilities of being a peer of the realm when he reaches his majority. He has agreed to continue with his plans to attend Oxford this autumn. He certainly has charm. I believe the servants at Warren Hall already adore him—not excluding Samson.”

  “Then your time and efforts will not be wasted,” she said. “And the ladies? Are they hopelessly rustic? Vulgar? Dull-minded?”

  “None of those things.” He drained his cup, sighed with contentment as he stretched out his booted feet before him, and set it down at his elbow “I believe they will go on well enough. But, Mama, they are going to need to be taken to town this spring and outfitted properly and introduced to all the right people and presented to society and … Well, I just do not know how it is to be done. I cannot do it—not for the sisters, at least.”

  “Certainly not,” she agreed.

  “And you cannot do it,” he said. “You have Cecily to bring out this year.”

  He looked at her half hopefully.

  “I do,” she agreed.

  “I did think perhaps Aunt Fanny or Aunt Roberta—” he began.

  “Oh, Elliott.” She interrupted him. “You cannot be serious.”

  “No,” he said. “I suppose not. And Grandmama is far too elderly. George says I ought to marry and have my wife sponsor them.”

  She brightened noticeably but then frowned.

  “You told me after Christmas,” she said, “that you intend to marry this year, before you turn thirty. I am delighted, of course, but I do hope you are not intending to choose coldly with your reason and forget that you also have a heart.”

  “And yet,” he said, “marriages that are carefully planned and arranged often turn out more happily than love matches, Mama.”

  He wished he had not said that as soon as the words were out. His mother’s marriage had been very carefully arranged. But though she had been young and beautiful—and was still handsome in middle age—it had not been a happy match. His father had remained firmly attached to the mistress and family that had preceded her and her own.

  She smiled into her cup but did not look up at him.

  “George suggested that I marry Miss Huxtable,” he told her, watching her closely.

  His mother had been lifting her cup to her lips, but her hand paused in midair.

  “The eldest sister?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “A rustic girl who has been living in a rural cottage?” She frowned at him and set her cup back in the saucer. “And someone you scarcely know? How old is she?”

  “Probably in her middle twenties,” he said. “She is sensible and refined of manner despite her humble upbringing in a country vicarage—and she is the great-granddaughter and sister of an earl, Mama.”

  “George said.” She looked fixedly at him. “But what do you say, Elliott?”

  He shrugged. “It is time I married and set up my nursery,” he said. “I am quite resigned to being a married man before the year is out and a father as soon as possible after that. I have no preference for any particular bride. Miss Huxtable is, I suppose, as eligible as anyone.”

  His mother sat back in her chair and said nothing for a while.

  “Jessica and Averil both married advantageously,” she said. “But just as important, Elliott, they both had an affection for their husbands even before they married them. It is what I will hope for with Cecily either this year or next. It is what I have always hoped for with you too.”

  “This is a discussion we have had before.” He smiled at her. “I am not a romantic, Mama. I hope to marry someone with whom I can enjoy some comfort and companionship and even affection down the years. But most of all I hope to marry sensibly.”

  “And is Miss Huxtable a sensible choice?” she asked him.

  “I trust so,” he said.

  “Is she beautiful?” his mother asked.

  “Extremely,” he said.

  She set down her cup and saucer on the table beside her.

  “It is high time Cecily and I took the carriage over to Warren Hall,” she said, “to pay our respects to the new Earl of Merton and his sisters. They must think it remiss of us not to have done so already. Is Constantine still there?”

  “He left three days ago.” His jaw tightened.

  “Cecily will be disappointed,” she said. “She adores him. I daresay the new Earl of Merton will be inducement enough to persuade her to accompany me, though. She has asked a thousand questions about him, none of which I have been able to answer. I will take a look at Miss Huxtable. Are you quite determined to have her?”

  “The more I think of it, the more I am in favor of the idea,” he said.

  “And will she have you?” his mother asked.

  He could not see why not. Miss Huxtable was single and perilously close to being an old maid. He could understand why she had not married before now, though with her looks she must have had offers even in a backwater like Throckbridge. But she had made that promise to her father, and she had kept it. There was no further need to remain with her family now, though. Her two sisters were past girlhood, and Merton would have them for company—and his guardian and eldest sister for neighbors.

  Nothing, in fact, could be more convenient—for any of them.

  “I believe so,” he said.

  His mother leaned forward and touched his hand.

  “I shall go and see Miss Huxtable for myself,” she said. “Tomorrow”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I would appreciate your opinion, Mama.”

  “My opinion,” she said, “ought not to matter, Elliott. If she is the woman of your choice, you ought to be willing to defy the devil himself if necessary in order to wed her.”

  She raised her eyebrows as if expecting him to declare an undying passion for Miss Huxtable. He covered her hand with his own and patted it before getting to his feet.

  Viscountess Lyngate called at Warren Hall with her daughter the next day.

  There was very little warning of their coming.

  Stephen came into the library from the steward’s office, where he had been ensconced with Mr. Samson, to inform his sisters that Viscount Lyngate’s carriage was approaching up the driveway. But there was nothing very remarkable in that. He had said when he left yesterday that he would return frequently And his business would be with Stephen.

  Margaret was examining the housekeeper’s books, which Mrs. Forsythe had sent up at her request. Vanessa, having finished writing a letter to Lady Dew and her sisters-in-law, was examining all the leather-bound books on the shelves and thinking that this room was a little like heaven.

  And then Katherine came flying up from the stables to announce the approach of the carriage and the viscount himself, who was on horseback.

  “Whoever can be in the carriage, then?” Margaret asked in some alarm, closing the book on the desk in front of her and running her hands over her hair.

  “Oh, my,” Katherine said, looking down at her disheveled self—she had just been having a lesson with one of the grooms. “His mother, do you think?”

  She dashed off again, presumably to wash her hands and face and make herself more presentable.

  Margaret and Vanessa had no such opportunity. They could hear the carriage already drawing to a halt before the doors beyond the window, and then they could hear voices in the hall. Stephen stepped out to greet the new arrivals. And they were indeed the viscountess and her daughter. Viscount Lyngate brought them into the library almost immediately and presented them.

  They looked very grand indeed to Vanessa. Their dresses and pelisses and bonnets were obviously in the very height of fashion. She felt instantly transformed into a country mouse and looked reproachfully at the viscount, who might have sent a warning. She was still wearing the apron she had put on over her gray dress as protection against any dust on the bookshelves. Margaret’s hair, like her own, wa
s caught up in the simplest of knots and had not been brushed for hours.

  He looked back and raised his eyebrows —and it was almost as if she could read his thoughts. True ladies, that disdainful look seemed to say, were always prepared for unexpected visitors during the afternoon. He, of course, was looking as immaculate as ever—and as handsome and virile.

  “How kind of you to have called,” Margaret was saying, behaving as if she were quite unruffled. “Do come up to the drawing room, where we can be more comfortable. Mrs. Forsythe will send tea.”

  “I was extremely happy to hear from Elliott that you had insisted upon bringing your sisters with you, Merton,” Lady Lyngate said as they were ascending the stairs. “This is a large house for a young gentleman alone.”

  “If he had not insisted, I would,” Margaret told her. “Stephen is only seventeen years old, and while he insists that he is as close to being an adult as makes no difference, I would not have known a moment’s rest if I had allowed him to come alone, with only Viscount Lyngate and Mr. Bowen for company”

  “That is quite understandable,” Lady Lyngate said while Stephen looked sheepish and Miss Wallace eyed him with interest.

  “ I would not have guessed you were seventeen,” that young lady said. “I would have thought you were older than I am, and I am eighteen.”

  Stephen smiled winningly at her.

  Katherine joined them after they had been in the drawing room just a few minutes. She looked tidy and clean with a shiny, freshly washed face. She also looked lovely, as she always did. But Vanessa, gazing fondly and critically at her, could see that she appeared quite unpolished in contrast with Miss Wallace.

  “Perhaps,” Viscount Lyngate said, “we could excuse ourselves from taking tea with the ladies, Merton. I want to hear what you have accomplished since yesterday.”

  Miss Wallace looked openly disappointed, but she transferred her attention to Katherine.

  “Elliott says you are to go to town after Easter for a come-out Season,” she said. “It is to be my come-out too. We will be able to keep each other company. I wish my hair had golden highlights as yours does. It is lovely”

  Miss Wallace was very dark—like her brother. It was obvious that they got their coloring primarily from their mother, who looked very Greek with her silvering dark hair and strong, handsome features.

  “Thank you,” Katherine said. “I am very much enjoying being at Warren Hall, I must confess. I am not so sure about London just yet, though. There is so much space to explore here and so much beauty to appreciate, and I am learning to ride.”

  “Only learning?” Miss Wallace asked, all incredulity.

  “I am afraid so,” Katherine said. “Meg learned when Papa was alive and we still had a horse. And Nessie rode at Rundle Park after she married Hedley our brother-in-law. But I never had a chance. Constantine gave me a few lessons before he went away a few days ago, and now Mr. Taber, the head groom, is helping me.”

  “I am so vexed that Con has left,” Miss Wallace said. “He never comes to Finchley these days and Mama will not allow me to come here alone. I adore him. Is he not the most handsome man you have ever seen?”

  Katherine smiled and Lady Lyngate raised her eyebrows.

  “Anyway” Miss Wallace continued, “you simply must come to town for the Season. I brought a book of fashion plates with me—it is in the carriage. Do let me show it to you. Some of the newest styles would look wonderful on you—you are so beautifully tall and slender. Indeed, I am sure they all would.”

  “Perhaps, Kate,” Margaret suggested, “you and Miss Wallace would like to take the book into the library where you may enjoy its contents without interruption.”

  They went off together, leaving Margaret and Vanessa alone with the viscountess. She smiled at them graciously but kindly enough, and they conversed politely on a number of topics while tea was served.

  “You really do all need to make an appearance in town this spring,” Lady Lyngate said eventually, “though I can understand that the prospect may be daunting to you. Your brother is too young, of course, to mingle freely with his peers as he will be able to do in a few years’ time. Nevertheless, the ton will wish to have a look at him. They have been deprived of an Earl of Merton for long enough. Jonathan was a mere boy and incapable anyway of leaving here.”

  “It is nevertheless tragic that he died so young,” Vanessa said. “He was your nephew, ma’am?”

  “My sister’s boy,” the viscountess said. “Yes, it was sad indeed, especially as she died not long after his birth. But he was happy all his life, you know Perhaps happiness compensates for a short life. I like to believe so. And he died suddenly and peacefully. It is your brother who belongs here now, however, and he seems to be a delightful young man.”

  “We think so, of course,” Vanessa said.

  “He owns a house in town,” Margaret said. “And so there would be no problem of accommodation if we were to go there. But there are all sorts of other problems, as you can see, my lady, just from looking at us.”

  “You are extremely lovely,” Lady Lyngate said frankly, looking, of course, just at Margaret.

  “Thank you.” Margaret flushed. “But that is not the point.”

  “No, it is not,” Lady Lyngate agreed. “But if one of you were just married, your problem would be solved.”

  “My husband is dead, ma’am,” Vanessa said. “He did not move in tonnish circles anyway, though his father is a baronet.”

  “No,” the viscountess said, her eyes resting kindly upon Vanessa for a moment before moving back to Margaret. “The husband would have to be well placed in society, someone to give you position and countenance. And then with a presentation at court and the right clothes and a little polishing, you would be quite able to sponsor your sisters and find husbands for them too.”

  Margaret’s hand crept to her bosom, and her flush returned. “ I, my lady?” she asked.

  “You have been caring for your brother and sisters for a number of years,” Lady Lyngate said. “You have behaved admirably. But valuable years have gone by You are still lovely, and you have a natural grace of manner that will make it relatively easy for you to take with the ton. But it is, my dear, time for you to marry—for your own sake as well as for that of your siblings.”

  “Meg does not have to marry for my sake,” Vanessa said, her eyes upon Margaret, whose flush had disappeared, leaving her looking rather white.

  “No,” Lady Lyngate agreed. “But you have had your chance, Mrs. Dew Your elder sister has not. And your younger sister will need her chance soon—she is older than Cecily. Forgive me. You may say that this is none of my business, and you would, of course, be quite right. However, you confess yourselves to be in need of help and advice. This is my advice to you, Miss Huxtable. Marry as soon as you may”

  Margaret’s color had returned and she looked suddenly amused.

  “I am reminded of the old puzzle over the chicken and the egg,” she said. “I need to marry in order that we may make an easier entrée into society But you must agree, my lady, that I would need to be in society in order to find a husband.”

  “Not necessarily,” Lady Lyngate said. “Perhaps there is a prospective husband—an eminently eligible one— closer than you think.”

  She did not elaborate but asked them if they had thought of sending to London for a lady’s maid who could help them learn something of the newest fashions and who could dress them and style their hair more fashionably She would be very willing to see to acquiring one on their behalf, she told them.

  “I would be very grateful,” Margaret told her. “I have only to look at you and Miss Wallace to understand how much we have to learn.”

  It was only later, when they had strolled out onto the terrace to look down at the formal gardens while waiting for the carriage to come up and Miss Wallace and the viscount to join their mother, that she said what perhaps she had been hinting at earlier.

  “Elliott has decided to take a
bride this year,” she said. “He will be a brilliant catch for any lady, of course. As well as the obvious attributes, he also has a loyal heart—even a loving one if he would but realize it. But the right woman will teach him to discover that. It is his intention—and my hope—to find a lady of character and principle. Beauty and grace would not come amiss either, of course. Perhaps he will not have to look too far.”

  She spoke with her eyes on the empty flower beds below, as if she were thinking aloud.

  Vanessa was not the only one who read the unspoken message. The carriage departed a few minutes later, Viscount Lyngate riding beside it. Katherine and Stephen walked off in the direction of the stables — they were going to ride into the village to visit the Graingers—leaving Vanessa and Margaret alone on the terrace.

  “Nessie,” Margaret said after a few moments, when the clopping of the horses’ hooves grew fainter, “was Lady Lyngate saying what I think she was saying?”

  “It would seem,” Vanessa said, “that she is trying to arrange a match between you and her son.”

  “But that is utterly absurd!” Margaret exclaimed.

  “It is not actually,” Vanessa said. “He is of an age to look about him for a wife—all gentlemen of property must marry, you know, whatever their personal inclination might be. And you are eligible. Not only are you single and beautiful and refined, but you are also the sister of an earl and the very earl over whom he is guardian. What could be more convenient than for him to marry you?”

  “Convenient for whom?” Margaret asked.

  “And he is very eligible,” Vanessa continued. “Just two weeks ago we were filled with awe just to know he was staying at the village inn and would be attending the assembly. He is titled and wealthy and young and handsome. And you yourself explained to Lady Lyngate the awkwardness of our situation, with no lady to introduce us to society”

  “And I would be able to do that for myself and for you and Kate if I were married?” Margaret asked, shivering and leading the way back toward the house.

  “Yes,” Vanessa said. “I suppose you would. You would be presented at court as Lady Lyngate explained and then you might do as you pleased. And Viscount Lyngate would be able to do all in his power for us without any appearance of impropriety It would be entirely proper if he were your husband.”