by Beth Bryan
WHAT LUCIA LEARNED
Beth Bryan
Her future had been settled until she discovered love.
Lucinda Neville had hit upon a famous idea. By proposing marriage to her childhood friend and country neighbour; she would save him from the sponging house and he would save her from the Marriage Mart.
But before the betrothal could be made official, Lucinda agreed to endure one Season in Town, though she was certain it would not make one whit of difference.
She had not reckoned on the fatal charms of Beau Devereux or the unexpected flurry of Cupid’s arrows that left more than just one lovesick couple in their wake.
CHAPTER ONE
The leaves in The Priory House’s orchard rustled in the soft breeze. A few late apple blossoms floated down and nestled gently in Lucinda Neville’s chestnut curls. But she ignored them and gazed only at the young man in front of her.
“Married!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean, Will, you must marry?”
Her companion lifted a haggard face. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Lucinda. M’father’s got us to point-non-plus this time.”
“Sir Oliver? He’s been gambling again?”
“Gambling? Hah!” Will groaned and drove his fingers through his hair so that the blond curls stood up alarmingly.
“Cards, horses, money-lenders, I don’t know what else besides. If the estate weren’t entailed, that’d be gone, too.”
“Will! Not Ryland Old Hall?” Abruptly, Lucinda sat down beside him on the circular wooden seat beneath the old apple tree.
“As I say, that’s entailed. It’s not even the mortgages I mind, Lucinda. I can pay those off when I come into Grandfather Ryland’s fortune.”
“Of course. I’d forgot that he’d left it to you. Doesn’t that help, Will?”
“I don’t get it till I’m twenty-five and that’s four years away. In the meantime, we must live.”
“But...” Lucinda hesitated, her huge, pansy-brown eyes clouded. “I don’t entirely understand these things, but can’t you, well, borrow against your expectations?”
“Hah!” Will attacked his curls again. “How do you think m’father got the mortgages in the first place?”
Lucinda bit her lip. “There must be something you can do, Will. Lady Ryland...”
“My mother,” said Will grimly, “has retired to her room. She’ll see nobody but the quack. She’ll do nothing but physick herself and succumb to the vapours whenever anyone tries to talk to her.”
Lucinda knew Lady Ryland of old and wasted no more time in comment. Then, as she remembered Will’s sister, she cried, “Belle! Isn’t Belle due back from France? She’s making her come-out, too, isn’t she?”
“Much good that’ll do her if m’father ends up in a Round House.”
Lucinda gasped. “Is it so bad?”
Will nodded grimly.
“But what can we do?”
“I know what I have to do, Cinda. I told you. It’s up to me and I’ve got to marry someone with the dibs.”
“You don’t want to get married, Will. You want to go to sea.”
“Of course I do. I—Sorry, Lucinda, I didn’t mean to fly up at you. But I have as much chance now of buying a commission as I do of becoming King. I’ve got to do what I can to save the family, and that means an heiress.”
Lucinda looked thoughtful. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“How could I? There aren’t scores of heiresses here in Nether Wilden, you know.”
“There is one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Me.”
“You?” Will gaped at her.
Lucinda’s brown eyes twinkled. “Yes, I have my mother’s fortune. She left it to me, you know.”
“Cinda, this ain’t a funning matter.”
“I’m not funning. Will—” Lucinda jumped to her feet, and clapped her hands “—wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
“Wouldn’t what be wonderful?” He reached out and grasped her hands. “Do be still, Cinda. You give me the headache watching you bounce up and down.”
“That’s the answer, of course. Once Sir Oliver’s creditors know you’re going to marry me, they’ll stop dunning him and you can pay them off with the settlements.”
“Lucinda!” Will’s blue eyes flashed and he stood up. “You’re not to say such things, do you hear me?”
Lucinda opened her eyes wide. “Why ever not, Will? You aren’t in love with anyone else, are you?”
“Of course I’m not.”
“Well, I’m not, either. So that’s all right.”
“It is not all right!” Will bellowed. Then he flushed. “What I mean is—”
“And,” Lucinda went on unheedingly, “you do like me, don’t you, Will?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Why not?”
“Dash it all, Lucinda, there’s more to marriage than just liking someone.”
“I should have thought that was sufficient.” Lucinda fixed her enormous eyes on him. “What else, Will?”
Mr. Ryland’s hands strayed towards his hair but tugged desperately at his cravat instead. “Lucinda, it ain’t proper to discuss such things with me.”
“You discuss them with Papa, then.” Lucinda placed her hand on his arm and looked up at him through her long, sweeping lashes. “Don’t worry, Will. You’ll see I have hit on the perfect solution. And it won’t change anything, you’ll see. I’ll come to live at Ryland, but apart from that, everything will go on just as it always has.”
Will Ryland had never been able to resist either that tone or that look. When, some fifteen minutes later, he left the orchard, he had agreed to discuss an engagement with Mr. Neville that very afternoon.
Lucinda walked down to the main gates with him. She stood on the stile and waved to him as long as he was visible across the field. Then she jumped down and turned back to The Priory House. Before she came in sight of the windows, however, she stopped and broke into a delighted pirouette, sending her skirts swirling about so that they knocked the petals from the tulips bordering the walk.
Cousin Ethelreda would say that was highly unsuitable behaviour for a young lady about to make her debut. But, thought Lucinda gleefully, I needn’t worry about that anymore. Soon I’ll be a married woman, and married women can do anything they like.
Later that afternoon, Lucinda was not surprised to be summoned to her father’s study. Mr. Neville seated her in one of the deep tobacco-coloured leather armchairs. Then he took his own place behind the desk.
He looked out of the large casement window for a moment, then brought his gaze back to his daughter. “I understand,” he began gravely, “that you wish to become engaged.”
“If you please, Papa,” Lucinda said, belatedly remembering that his permission was necessary.
Jasper Neville took up his enamelled snuffbox. “I had no idea,” he remarked pensively, “that you cherished a secret tendre for Will Ryland.”
“I’ve always liked Will.” Lucinda looked warily at her father. She did not always appreciate Jasper’s taste for irony.
“Quite so.” Jasper flicked open the box and took snuff in one expert gesture. “I have told young Ryland that if you are of the same mind after your Season, I shall consent to the engagement being announced.”
“But, Papa—”
“I do not think I can be described as a Draconian parent, Lucinda. But I cannot countenance your engagement to the only young man you know before you’ve had a chance to spread your wings.”
“I shan’t like anyone better than Will.”
“At least you will have had the opportunity,” replied Jasper calmly.
“But Papa, Sir Oliver—”
“
Will has told me of his financial difficulties.”
“If we keep our engagement secret, how will the creditors—”
“I am not without influence, my dear. I shall drop a few words in the appropriate ears. Things may be difficult for a while, but Will is not destitute, after all. I think he will find that matters improve.” Lucinda did not look entirely satisfied and Jasper continued, “If you do wish to consider yourselves privately engaged, I cannot, as I have already told Will, prevent you. I merely insist that you go to London and partake of all the Season offers. Afterwards, we shall see.”
“Very well, Papa.” Lucinda recognized the finality in her father’s tone. “But what is to be done about Belle? Lady Ryland is having one of her turns. Will says she claims she cannot undertake the responsibility of launching Belle in these circumstances.”
Jasper picked up a sheet of heavy, crested paper from his desk. “This is from Lady Grantham.”
“She is Belle’s godmother, I think?”
Jasper nodded. “She’s also an old friend of Ethelreda’s. Her daughter, Patience, is to make her come-out this year also. Lady Grantham has written both to me and to Ethelreda, saying that she hopes you girls will all become friends and that she and your cousin may share chaperoning duties.”
“Then she is willing to sponsor Belle?”
Jasper looked thoughtfully at her. “I suspect,” he said dryly, “that Lady Grantham has always expected to do just that.” Lucinda’s brown eyes widened to their fullest. “You know, my dear, that life for Lady Ryland has never been easy.”
Lucinda looked wise. “I know. Sir Oliver and his gambling.”
“It is not entirely Oliver’s fault,” Jasper said slowly. “His father’s will was, I think, most ill advised. He left most of his fortune in trust for Will and a mere pittance to Oliver. Oliver had always felt that his father despised him. The will did nothing to increase his sense of responsibility.”
Lucinda’s mouth formed a soft O of surprise. Papa had never talked to her like this before.
“A will is a powerful document, Lucinda. I hope you keep that in mind when it comes to your own children.”
Bright colour flooded Lucinda’s face. “Ch-children?”
“If you are thinking of marriage, my dear, then children are a natural consequence, don’t you agree?”
Lucinda’s eyes fell. She had certainly never considered children. Will’s and her children? Doubtfully, she shook her shining curls.
Jasper studied her silently for a few moments. Then he said gently, “Lucinda, your mother and I were given very little time together. But every minute of that brief allowance has been an enduring delight and comfort to me.” He paused. “It is my dearest wish that you will find that joy in your own marriage.”
Lucinda blinked back tears. Mama was only a faint, far-off memory to her. That Jasper should mention her now moved her daughter deeply.
“However,” Jasper went on more briskly, “you have the whole Season to think things over, though from what Ethelreda says, quiet reflection does not come high on her list of activities.”
Lucinda laughed. “Have you decided whether you will travel with us, Papa?”
Jasper sighed slightly. He touched the stacks of papers on the desk. “I fear...”
“Are those papers from the Cranford estate?” she asked rather hesitantly. Papa did not generally discuss his business affairs with her.
He nodded. “As you know, I am the executor. The old earl died two months ago. Then his elder son died in that terrible accident. Two successions in less than two years complicate matters enormously.”
“And the new earl has not yet returned to England?”
“No, but I have written to him in Italy, and I am in hopes of hearing from him shortly. He also must be eager to expedite matters.”
“He is not married?” Lucinda was thinking it would be rather a sad homecoming for the young man who had come to the earldom through the death of his father and brother.
“He is still quite young. I believe there was some talk of an attachment when he was in London two years ago, but as far as I know it came to naught.”
“And you will wish to see Mr. Bunthorpe in his new post in London.”
“Yes, indeed. He is doing splendid work there, but the need is great. We have a new governor for that hospice, too, and I must meet with him before too long.”
“Yes, I remember. A gentleman, I think you said?”
“A member of the haut ton, in fact. I hope to get many more men and women of influence involved so that they may realize their social responsibilities. This new governor is a step in that direction.”
“If his appointment means that you will hurry to London, Papa, then I shall be delighted to meet him.”
Jasper smiled at her. “Now, Lucinda, I shall not permit Cranford’s affairs to delay me any longer than is necessary. I shall hasten to Town, not to see a new governor, but to see you. After all, I cannot miss my only daughter’s debut.”
As she left the study, Lucinda felt very pleased with herself. True, Papa had not exactly agreed to the engagement, but he had not forbidden it, either. More significantly, he had talked to her just as if she had been a grown woman.
She wasn’t a schoolroom miss any longer, Lucinda thought ecstatically. And it was all because she had had the notion of becoming engaged to Will—it had completely changed the way Jasper thought of her. Alone in the hall, Lucinda did another little dance of delight. What a good idea it had been to marry Will Ryland! She was so glad she had thought of it.
“Lucinda! Whatever can you be doing?”
Miss Neville stopped rather sheepishly as a middle-aged lady advanced upon her. Mrs. Ethelreda Cleeson was a tall, thin widowed lady, with a vaguely harassed air. This was produced by chronic absentmindedness, a trait she tried unsuccessfully to combat by making endless lists. She had lost her husband early in her married life and had come to live at The Priory House soon after the death of Lucinda’s mother.
“You know, dearest,” she reproved, “you must try to behave with a little more decorum. Such hoydenish conduct would be quite unacceptable in Town.”
Lucinda laughed. “I shan’t do it in Town, cousin Ethelreda. It’s just that I am so very happy.”
“Well, that is a change.” Ethelreda stared at her. “But I am glad to hear it. As I told you, girls are very often nervous before their come-out. But you will enjoy yourself once it all begins.”
“I know I shall.”
Mrs. Cleeson blinked. “And what has changed your mind so much?” She looked back at the study. “Has Jasper been talking to you? I told you you need not worry. You do not like the idea of entering the Marriage Mart, but your papa would never coerce you into a marriage against your will. You need not be afraid of that, nor that he would reproach you should you not receive a suitable offer. Not,” added Mrs. Cleeson, smiling at her charge’s vivacious face, “not that such an event is in any way likely.”
Lucinda chuckled, a deep husky sound. “No, I’m sure Papa won’t reproach me.”
Mrs. Cleeson was still puzzled, but she was happy to embrace her niece’s turn-about. There could be no profit or pleasure in conducting an unwilling charge through the Season.
“Come upstairs for a moment, my love,” she said, taking advantage of Lucinda’s mood. “I have just received some new magazines. There is a ball gown I want you to see. I think if we were to have the sleeves altered...”
Lucinda spent a happy afternoon discussing fashions and fabrics. After dinner Will reappeared, and he and Lucinda strolled in the rose garden in the long twilight.
“Did you decide on settlements with Papa?” Lucinda leaned down to smell one of the early yellow blooms, so she did not see Will grasp a handful of his curls and tug ferociously.
“We—we didn’t quite get to that.”
“What did you talk about, then?”
“Your papa was advising me. He’s already shown me several ways I might deal with the cre
ditors—ways I’d never have thought of myself. After all, it’s not as though I don’t have any money whatsoever. I wish my father were as awake on these points as yours.”
“I don’t know very much about such matters, but I am glad that you feel happier about it.”
Will shuffled his feet in the white marble chips on the path around the reflecting pool.
“And,” Lucinda went on happily, “as he doesn’t want us to make a public announcement yet, there’s no hurry about the settlements.”
With unnecessary violence Will kicked a stone into the still water. “Cinda, it’s generous of you, dashed generous. But I can’t take advantage of you like this...”
“Take advantage of me?” Lucinda echoed. “How could you possibly do that?”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, Cinda, and I’ll never forget it, truly I won’t. But our plan ain’t up to snuff and it’s no good pretending it is.”
“You’ve been listening to Papa.”
“He’s right, ain’t he? I am the only chap you really know.”
“You’re forgetting the Bearley boys and there’s John Gage...”
“Lucinda,” said Will awfully, “if you are going to compare me to those spotty-faced, long-shanked...”
“No, no, naturally not.” Lucinda giggled. “But Papa is worrying too much. You need not pay attention, unless—” her brown eyes clouded “—unless you wish to cry off?”
Will looked at the hurt in those dark velvet eyes, at the droop in the slight shoulders. “Ah, no, Cinda,” he said impulsively.
Lucinda beamed at him. “Then that’s all right. Now let’s talk about London. Lady Grantham may sponsor Belle, so Papa tells me.”
“Yes, she has written to Mama, asking both Belle and me to stay at her house in Cavendish Square.”
“And will you?”
“I should think so, for, you know, it will spare me the expense of opening the town house and I shall feel much happier if Belle is directly under her eye.”
“Don’t you think that Paris will have calmed Belle down?”
“It’d take more than a few Frenchies to put a cramp in Belle’s style. I went down to post a letter to her this afternoon. While I was in the village I met the new warden of the hospice. Edgely, his name is. I take it that you have met him already?”
