by Jo Beverley
What would the price be?
The married life of Lady Dauntry would be vastly different to hers with Marcus, no matter how odd her husband was. She wouldn’t be trapped in four rooms, and it seemed unlikely Lord Dauntry would demand her presence most of the time or insist on her sharing his restless bed.
She and he could have separate suites of rooms. Separate wings, perhaps! Given what Ruth had said, he might rarely be at the abbey at all. In a normal marriage she might object to his amusements elsewhere, but not in this one.
“Am I seriously considering this?” Sillikin’s cocked head seemed to send the question back at her. “I am.”
To escape Cateril Manor. To live close to Ruth. To have a home of her own again, and with a frequently absent husband . . .
If you are willing to consider the matter, it must be soon. Dauntry is a man of brisk action. If you don’t give him hope, he will proceed to other ways of obtaining the wife he wants. I can’t imagine it will be difficult.
Ruth had run out of space and turned to write diagonally.
If you agree to consider the match, he will arrange your journey here at his expense, and your journey home if you decide he will not suit. You need only reply to me for all to be put in hand, but remember, it must be soon.
I don’t know this man well, Kitty, and I fear my ardent desire to have you nearby influences me, but Andrew believes you should at least consider this and his judgment is sound.
That was it.
Ardent desire.
Yes.
Kitty rose and paced her room, Sillikin keeping pace at her heel. Marriage!
She hadn’t rushed into her first marriage, but she had been swept along on a fast stream of ecstatic romance, with no one attempting to calm her down. She’d had a vision of herself as ministering angel to the wounded hero, and her parents had been dazzled by her being wooed by a member of the nobility. If they’d any doubts, his wounds and true adoration silenced them. He had adored her, and in a way had done so to his dying day, but adoration could have a dark side.
Here was a very different situation. She must decide quickly, the man was a stranger, and she had no one to hand to offer advice. If she mentioned it to anyone in the family, Lady Cateril would find out and heaven knew what would happen then. What to do? What to do?
She halted. “I must go to Ruth.”
With that, everything became clear. She must go to Ruth, for advice and for the joy of it. Once in Beecham Dab, she’d soon know whether to make this marriage. Mere travel there wouldn’t commit her. She had some money. It would probably cover the cost of the journey by stage. But she’d have to escape the house without rousing suspicion.
She was devising complicated ways, some of which included elements from novels, when she came to her senses. No one but she knew the crucial contents of the letter. She could simply ask to visit her old friend.
She picked up Sillikin to hug her. “I don’t know why I haven’t done that before.”
She’d allowed herself to become glued here by Lady Cateril’s grief, but not even her mother-in-law could object to a short visit to a respectable old friend. She’d travel to Beecham Dab, and perhaps she’d never come back.
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