by Abby Ayles
Finally dressed in a modern, trendy, white day dress and some red jewellery which showed off her dark hair and fair skin, Lucy felt ready to go for lunch. Walking downstairs, she could hear that even though there was still half an hour left until lunch, Lord Jones was already there, chatting cheerily with her father in the drawing room.
She peered in and, seeing both her parents and Lord Jones were there, made her entrance.
“Lucy, how do you do?” he asked with a slight bow.
She curtsied. “Very well, and you?”
“Very fair, thank you,” he replied, straightening himself and smiling at her. Again, the smile seemed falsely arrogant.
He looked pretty good again. It was clear he either had plenty of money, or was a man of fine taste who would compromise other things to avoid compromising on style. It was something she would normally hold against a man, that he was better dressed and cared more for his clothes than she did. She usually viewed it as unmanly to be so frivolous. But in him it was, if not good, a forgivable flaw. After all, nobody was perfect.
Besides, it was easy to forgive flaws in someone you did not intend on marrying. He did not even have to be perfect. He just had to be good conversation, and a fun dancer.
“I had a wonderful time at the reception last night, even if the couple of the hour was there for less than an hour,” Andrew remarked. His eyes briefly landed on Lucy, as though asking for her approval.
She just blushed and looked aside, not quite sure how to interpret this gaze.
“Many couples are very eager to begin their new life together,” Lord Fitzgerald said. “I know I was. And it is rare for a reception to be held so late into the night.”
Andrew nodded. “I find it a little ridiculous for a wedding to go on all day, though. In my opinion it should be between the bride and groom and their families, not some big affair for the whole town.”
Lady Fitzgerald shook her head. “No, you must invite some people of status, you cannot ignore them. Think of how insulted local Barons, Earls, and Dukes would be if they were not invited to your wedding?”
“I would trust that my friends would understand my desire for a private, intimate event,” Andrew said with a shrug.
“But not everyone is your friend,” Lady Fitzgerald replied.
“Then why on earth would I invite them to my wedding?” Andrew replied.
Lady Fitzgerald cast him a disapproving glance, but when she looked to her husband he only shrugged, so she did not add anything else.
“Let us go through to the dining room,” Lord Fitzgerald said, waving towards the door. “It is almost time for lunch.”
As her parents walked out ahead, Lucy walked beside Lord Jones. “Do you really mean it when you say things like that, or do you only intend to shock?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “I only say what I genuinely think. But I am possibly more liberal when it comes to sharing the thoughts which ruffle feathers the most.” Again, his eyes met hers, asking for her to agree with him.
“Why do you like offending people?” Lucy asked.
“Because it is fun.” Andrew waved a hand in a playful circle. Something about the gesture seemed contrived to Lucy, like he was putting on an act.
“Hardly.” she scrunched her face is disapproval. “You drive a wedge between yourself and those who would love and care for you. You deeply hurt more sensitive people. And you make yourself look completely lacking in compassion and consideration.”
He seemed somewhat taken aback at the lack of support she showed. But quickly his face became calm again. “But consider this,” he replied, “that those who would distance themselves from you for your thoughts are unworthy of your company, those that are sensitive deserve to be hardened, and compassion and consideration ought to be reserved for those who show it to you.”
Lucy could not find fault with his analysis. But it still didn't feel right to her. Whenever she hurt her mother's feelings she felt it deeply in her heart. Whenever she broke a suitor's heart she regretted it for days. She acknowledged that sometimes insulting someone was the only way to make your lack of interest clear, but she took no pleasure in it and longed to return to the days when she was sweeter and kinder, according to her true nature.
As the entrees were served, Lord Fitzgerald turned to face Lord Jones. “I was wondering,” he began, “if I might ask you a question.”
“Of course, feel free.”
“I saw that you and my daughter, Lucy were dancing and talking quite a bit last night,” he said. “You seemed to be enjoying yourselves.”
“Yes, she is a terrible dancer but it was great fun.” There was subtle warmth to his tone of voice.
“And I have heard from some friends of mine that you are currently unattached? After—”
“Yes, I am,” Andrew interrupted, smiling in a way which suggested he, like everyone else at the table, knew where the conversation was going. He was just allowing Lord Fitzgerald to finish what he was saying out of politeness.
“I was wondering if perhaps you would like to court our daughter,” Lord Fitzgerald said.
And it was then that the politeness ended. Lord Jones burst out laughing.
Lord and Lady Fitzgerald cast one another an indignant look, then their faces returned to a forced expression of politeness and they looked back at Andrew, who drew a deep breath and sipped his wine. “No thank you, I have no intention of marrying.”
Were he anyone else, Lucy knew that they would certainly have kicked him out for that display. But they had to remain cordial towards him, so they just nodded in bewilderment.
Chapter 6
As Lucy's parents tried to work out what to do or say next, Lucy looked to Andrew. He certainly appeared to be enjoying the distress he had caused. But a part of her mind was telling her that it seemed a little... acted out. Like he did not truly enjoy it, or did not enjoy it as much as he was showing he did.
She smiled at him and he smiled back. It was that same gentle smile she had seen during the dance. But then he repressed it and his face went a bit blank again. He sipped his wine.
“I am sure if you found the right woman...” Lady Fitzgerald began before trailing off.
Andrew was shaking his head. “There is no such woman. There is no woman alive on this planet who is worth the trials and tribulations of courtship, let alone of marriage.” Yet in his voice Lucy could hear a hint of pain and sadness.
She knew she should have felt insulted by this. But she was not. The words he said and how he said them did not add up. He was still... oddly intriguing. Sure, he had just outright stated that she, as a woman, was not worth the trouble she would bring. But she felt the same way about men, and she could not despise him for being wary of marriage. If anything, she wanted to know why. She wanted to know if he had been hurt like she had, or seen someone else get hurt.
Over the course of lunch the conversation turned to somewhat less stressful topics for Lucy, such as upcoming events and Antoinette's baby, who was apparently growing well. By the end, Lord Fitzgerald asked whether anyone would like coffee, spirits, or a cigar after dinner.
“I'm not sure about anyone else, but I think a coffee would be fantastic,” Andrew said.
Lucy hesitated. “I suppose I shall also have a coffee,” she said.
Her mother cast an odd glance her way. “Are you sure, Lucy? You usually drink nothing but tea. And I heard it was not ladylike to drink coffee.”
“Nonsense,” Andrew replied, “young girls today drink plenty of coffee. It is all the rage.”
The idea it was something not only rebellious and masculine, but also very trendy, made her more eager to try it.
Walking through into the drawing room, Andrew did not need to be shown to a seat, instead sitting down in the middle of one of the sofas, so that someone would have to sit by his side or else all three would be crammed in the other sofa, awkwardly facing him.
Lord Fitzgerald sat down beside Andrew, Lucy opposite him, and Lady
Fitzgerald next to Lucy, opposite her husband. Lucy had felt tempted to sit down beside Andrew, but her father had clearly seen that as inappropriate and taken the seat for himself. Lucy would have to do with sitting opposite him.
As a servant went to bring the coffees and a cigar for Lord Fitzgerald, Andrew seemed to be settling in comfortably.
“What persuaded you so strongly against marriage?” Lady Fitzgerald said.
Andrew shrugged and shook his head. “It is none of your business, to be honest. And I am sure you shall eventually find out, or hear some dreadful rumour, but I would rather your husband tell you in secret than speak about it myself.”
Lucy once again realised that the only reason they tolerated him was because he was a Baron. If anyone else spoke to them like that they would be indignant. And normally other people of status were more respectful. But for some reason Lord Jones felt he was separate from normal society, and therefore above it.
This was rather annoying to Lucy. She knew him to be intelligent, and she had seen he was capable of kindness and warmth. So why was he so intent on offending people? He was so much more than just an arrogant young man, and yet he refused to show a side to him which other people would respect. It was frustrating to see him waste so much potential for no apparent reason. She could not bring herself to stop liking him. But she wished he made more of an effort to be likeable to others.
When the coffee arrived the aroma was strong and the taste was stronger. She was not used to it, but she wanted to seem sophisticated in front of such an intelligent, witty, daring man. So she sipped it and made an effort not to wince when, even with cream and sugar, it tasted of nothing but burnt toast to her.
“I do believe we should leave you two to talk a while,” Lady Fitzgerald finally said.
Lord Fitzgerald beckoned a servant over. “Stand as chaperone until we return,” he said with a nod.
Lucy and Andrew watched as her parents left the room and shut the door. It was clear they expected something intimate to happen. Andrew just shook his head and chuckled.
“A chaperone? It seems your parents have not given up hope,” he said.
Lucy shook her head too. “They do genuinely wish for me to be married one day,” she said.
“And yet even after you have told them they continue to try and set you up with suitors?” Andrew asked, stepping in a little closer.
Lucy averted her gaze nervously, noticing the disapproving stare of the servant and moving back a little. “Not exactly...”
“Oh,” he said in realization, “you mean to say you have not yet told them?”
Lucy shrugged a little and sipped her coffee again. “It is different for women than for men. We cannot simply say we do not wish to be married. It is frowned upon for a woman to live her life out unwed. Especially if she has no brothers to care for her.”
“I do not care what is frowned upon,” Andrew replied with a smirk. “If I were you I would tell them anyway. It is better than letting them suffer in ignorance.”
Lucy shrugged again. “You are, however, not me. And I am not you. And I am not prepared to hurt my parents like that.”
“Suit yourself,” Andrew replied and sipped his coffee.
“Why did you even agree to visit if you are not interested?” Lucy asked.
“I am interested in you, just not as a wife,” Andrew replied.
Lucy glared at him, mortified. How dare he suggest that...
Andrew grew a little pale and shook his head earnestly. “No, no, not that. I mean, I wish for you to be my friend. We have much in common, and I enjoy talking to you.” He smiled and again there was that warmth she had seen earlier. It beckoned her in.
“But my parents think you may want to court me,” she replied.
“Then let them think so. If it means we are allowed to talk in private then I am prepared to let them believe anything.” He grinned.
It made sense, in a way. “But men and women cannot be friends, you do know this?”
“Why not?” Andrew asked.
“Because it is inappropriate. People would talk,” Lucy replied. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable again, but she was also enjoying the closeness and slight gentility that she was managing to get out of him.
Andrew shrugged. “Then let them talk. People talk about your hair. People talk about my rudeness. Are we dead yet? Or does it eventually stop mattering?”
Lucy sighed. He was right. Of course he was right. And so smart. But... “It does matter, though. I may be treated differently.”
“You may end up with fewer suitors if they think you are having an affair with me,” Lord Jones insisted.
Lucy shook her head. “Just... be discreet. I am not yet ready to become as infamous as you seem to wish to be.”
“I will be discreet, in that case. You are rather sweet, deep down, are you not?”
Lucy shook her head. He did not understand. But that didn't matter. It felt good to be considering Lord Jones as a friend. A little voice in the back of her mind told her he could be so much more, but she dismissed it. He could never be anything more. She was not ready for something like that. She never would be ready. It could still easily all be a trick.
“If you have no intention of marrying, then I suppose I do not mind, personally,” Lucy said. “But do not get any ideas if I am nice to you. I am just being friendly.”
“Likewise when I am friendly. I shall treat you as a man. You already have the haircut.”
Lucy scowled a little. But really, she did not mind the teasing. He was sort of funny. Lucy looked up at Andrew. “Why is it that you do not wish to marry? If you do not mind my asking.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I do not mind you asking, but... I also would rather not talk about it. Must you know?”
“If we are to be friends I would rather you not keep complete secrets from me,” Lucy replied. “I do not mind if you do not wish to tell me everything, but... I just want to know.”
“How about you begin, then?” he asked. “Tell me why you are so averse to marriage.”
Lucy sighed. “Very well... I once had a suitor by the name of Mr Perry. And he was sweet and kind and I believed him to be in every way perfect for me. I fell in love with him. But he did not love me, he loved someone else. My parents saw potential in him and were willing to consider him despite his lack of a title, whereas her parents were not. But then by a stroke of fortune he became a Duke. And he married my friend, the woman he loved.”
Andrew stared a second and put two and two together. “That Duke Perry?”
She nodded.
“Well, I certainly understand your apprehension. Are you not angry with her?” he asked.
Lucy shook her head. “They are in love. I cannot blame them for that. What upset me was that he was willing to lie to me, to seduce me, and to enter a loveless marriage for money. I was almost eternally wed to a man who would never love me.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “I understand.”
“And now it is your turn,” she said with a soft smile.
“Yes, it is,” he said. There was a slightly nervous quality to his voice that she realised was actually rather endearing. The hard facade had broken and let out another glimpse of the softer man behind it all.
She smiled at him when he glanced in her direction, and he smiled back, another soft, genuine smile.
He drew a deep breath. “When I went to India, I, like Thomas, was engaged to be married. She was lovely, everything I wished for. We would be away a year, eighteen months at the most, and then return and marry our sweethearts. At least that is what I thought. I wrote to her every single day, and she replied to me every day, and she never said anything to suggest she was no longer in love with me, or that she had changed her mind. And yet when I returned I found out from her parents that she had ended the engagement, without even telling me, and was seeing another suitor.”
“Oh dear,” Lucy replied, not sure what else to say. “Did you see her?”
>
He nodded. “I thought it was all a plot by her parents. So I insisted on seeing her. And when I did she says she had grown tired of waiting and only continued writing the letters to spare me my feelings.”
“I suppose she was foolish.”
“Foolish?” he replied. “She was manipulative and cruel and she knows it. That is why I shall never put my faith in a woman again, so long as I live.”
“Just because one woman insulted you does not mean every woman will,” Lucy replied indignantly.
“And just because one man betrayed you does not mean every man will,” Andrew said. “But if you have a fool proof method of sorting the wheat from the chaff then I would love to hear it.”
Lucy nodded. “No, I agree with you. But I am sure there must be good women out there. I am one.”
“Every woman thinks she is a good woman,” Andrew replied bluntly.
“But you seem to agree with me on that,” Lucy said. She was not sure why she was so intent on defending herself as a marriage prospect. She told herself it was probably more to do with the personal insult than with any real interest.
“I suppose so,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing a little. “Nevertheless, it is wise not to fall for all that nonsense. We must remain strong against it.”
“Absolutely. Just because I know I would make a good wife does not mean I wish to be one. After all, how can I trust that the man I marry will be a good husband? Marriage is an eternal contract. Not even taxes are that unforgiving.”
“Exactly, the only thing less forgiving than marriage is death,” Andrew chuckled.
Lucy blushed a little as she laughed too. “Perhaps, then, we ought to form a pact.”
“A pact?” Andrew asked.
“That we shall never marry. A bit like how the Sisters at the boarding school agreed to watch over one another and deter them from sin if temptation should arise,” she explained.
