by Mona Prevel
A day or so later, he completely reversed his stand on the subject. At the time, she was taking her morning walk in the garden when she heard the sound of someone scurrying along the gravel path behind her. Thinking the head gardener wished to consult her on her choice of summer blooms, she turned and discovered it was her uncle making a laborious approach.
On reaching her, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.’’ Must you walk so fast, child?’’ He wheezed, his breath coming in painful gasps. “It is unbecoming of you to take such mannish strides.”
Althea responded by continuing her walk. The marquis matched steps with her. She was tempted to walk faster, but her better nature prevailing, she slowed her pace and inquired of him how she could be of service.
“I seek nothing for myself, my dear,” he gushed. “I am concerned only for your happiness.”
Althea braced herself for what was to follow, knowing from experience that when the marquis adapted such a selfless stance it was usually a preliminary to instill within her sufficient guilt to satisfy his most outrageous demands.
“My dear niece, after careful consideration I have decided that you are wise to forgo the London Season.”
“Oh?” His remark irked her. Something contrary in her nature tempted her to change her mind about staying in the country.
He wiped his brow once more and nodded toward a bench. “I must prevail upon you to sit down. This sort of exertion is apt to upset my liver.”
Althea complied, carefully arranging the folds of her pelisse so as not to wrinkle it. The marquis sat down beside her, his joints creaking as he did so. Althea regarded him with sympathy. It seemed that in the past year, old age had caught up with him, draining him of his last vestige of manly vigor.
“Ah, that is better. This dreadful damp air seeps right through my bones. Er—as I was saying, I see nothing wrong with staying at Camberly. A young lady is not safe these days. I saw those two blackguards making indecent overtures towards you at the prince’s soiree last summer. I was sorely tempted to call them out over it, but considering where we were, I did not think it would be quite the thing.”
Althea gave him a wry smile. “I quite agree, Uncle Jean-Claude. It was most circumspect of you.”
“Beautiful young maidens are always at the mercy of such villains—that is why I took care to see that our dear Celeste was safely married as soon as possible when we came to this country.”
Althea could see where the conversation was leading and found it most disquieting. Surely the man did not have the temerity to think that he could dispose of her in like manner?
“Althea, my dear, I want you to consider what I am about to suggest most carefully before coming to a decision on the matter.”
Althea made to rise, but he stayed her with his hand. “Please stay.”
Althea settled back. “Very well. But be assured I do not intend to marry just to fend off would-be seducers. Besides, from my observations, a wedding ring does not deter such predators. Quite the opposite.”
“Of course I would not suggest that you marry for such a reason. I merely brought up the subject to point out the advantages of marriage to someone whose love and respect you already have.”
“And who might that be?”
“Our dear Philippe.”
Chapter 11
Althea’s jaw dropped on hearing her great-uncle’s choice of husband for her. Good heavens, how does one respond to such a proposition? There is not a tactful way to tell an old gentleman that his grandson just will not do.
An awful thought came to her. What if Uncle Jean-Claude has already discussed this matter with Philippe and he has agreed to this marriage? I love him too much to want to hurt him. He is a good and honorable young man.
“Tell me, Uncle, have you spoken to Philippe about this?”
“Of course not. I would not presume to do so until I knew his suit would be well received. For a young man, he has very delicate sensibilities.”
Althea felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Thank goodness for doting grandfathers!
“Uncle, I am honored that you would consider me a worthy match for Philippe. I know he is the apple of your eye, and with good reason. He is indeed a fine young main, but I must insist that you give me time to think the matter over. I fear I see Philippe more as a brother than a suitor. The idea might take quite a bit of getting used to.”
The marquis patted her shoulder. “Splendid. By all means, consider the matter. You are a sensible girl and I am sure you will make the right decision. As you so wisely pointed out, Philippe is a fine young man.” He looked arch. “And handsome, too, I might add.”
“I agree, Uncle. Our Philippe is one of the handsomer young gendtlemen of our acquaintance.”
Once Althea was in the privacy of her own chambers, she delved more deeply into the matter. Philippe was indeed a very handsome young man and yes, they both held a fond regard for one another … Try as she may, Althea could not visualize sharing passionate kisses with him. John Soames would creep into her thoughts and take his place.
At least once a week, the marquis would arrange to get her alone, then with raised brow would say, “Well? Have you decided?”
She would respond, “I have to consider the matter further. Marriage is a very serious step.” This tactic proved to be very successful, for they were well into May without her having to give him an answer.
In the meantime, she made a conscious effort to better understand the inner workings of Philippe’s mind. He was skilled in the social chatter that passed for conversation at most “at homes.” In fact, his flair for saying nothing in the most amusing manner possible made him the darling of Society’s hostesses.
Quite a few young ladies, with or without the encouragement of their mamas, had tried to inveigle him into a courtship, to no avail. The young ladies were usually captivated by his easy charm and handsome features; their mamas, on the other hand, took an avid interest in his impending barony and the fortune that went with it.
Philippe was known to venture an opinion on the performance of an opera or a play now and then, but Althea had no idea what he thought about the politics of the day, or even if he cared as to the outcome of the war being waged against France. She liked to think that Philippe’s reticence in voicing his opinions was due to an innate shyness rather than consider the possibility that he might not have any.
After one fruidess afternoon of trying to break through the barrier that Philippe seemed to hide behind, Althea was sorely tempted to shake him until his thoughts came tumbling out. Instead, she excused herself and sought refuge in her chambers.
With the door firmly closed, she clenched her fists and shook from head to toe with frustration. “Aargh!” she cried. “I have known Philippe all of my life, yet he is still not comfortable enough to share even his most inconsequential thoughts with me. Uncle will have to find another bride for his precious lambkin.”
During the following week, Althea was relieved that the marquis did not once bring up the subject. Wishing to postpone an awkward confrontation as long as possible, she did her best to stay out of his way. Then one day, a trip she made to Hansford’s shop changed everything.
As she was leaving, she came face-to-face with John Soames. She handed her purchases to Lizzie and was about to take her place in the trap when she was stayed by his voice.
“Please, Lady Camberly. Do not go until you hear what I have to say.”
She faced him and was shocked by the misery she saw in his eyes. Her instincts told her to get into the trap and depart with all speed, but she could not do it.
“Very well.” She turned to Lizzie, who was sitting on the passenger side of the conveyance, her eyes wide and questioning. “This will take but a moment.”
John gestured for them to move further up the esplanade, and not wishing her abigail to overhear their conversation, she complied.
Althea spoke first “Mr. Soames, there is no point to this.�
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“No point?” His voice was bitter. “Only if you consider the happiness of two people of little significance. Great heavens, woman, I love you, and your kisses tell me that you love me, too.”
Even in her distress, the thought crossed Althea’s mind that it was not exactly the most elegant declaration of love a lady could receive. John Soames was definitely not the sort of person who dazzles the ton with his wit and éclat. But neither was she.
Althea forced herself to sound indifferent. “Please do not place so much importance on a few harmless kisses.”
“Althea, reject my suit if you must, but do not lie to me.”
She touched his sleeve, and noticed it had a slight tear in it He was sorely in need of a woman’s care.
“No, Mr. Soames, I will not lie to you.”
“Call me John. I should like to hear my name on your lips one more time.”
“Very well—John. I cannot deny that when you kissed me I felt—something. I also will admit to thinking of you with some affection, but this is not reason enough to forget my duty to my family. There can be nothing more between us.”
“But my dear girl, there is nothing to stop us from marrying. I am not a pauper. Leave Camberly Hall to the others in your family. Marry me and live under my roof. I promise to take good care of you.”
Althea was touched by his words. She looked at the condition of his clothes. Effigies of Guy Fawkes were burned on bonfires wearing better on any fifth of November.
“Dear, dear sir, I am sure that you would care for me to the utmost of your ability, but I am promised to another.”
He bowed to her, his lips compressed into a tight line. “My apologies. Had there been talk of it in the village, I would not have importuned you thus. May I ask when this marriage is to take place?”
Althea’s heart sank. She had been treed by a falsehood blurted out on the spur of the moment. When should she say the marriage is to take place?
She looked into his fine gray eyes, filled with both love and suffering, and she felt herself melting.
“The last Saturday of the month.”
It was an act of desperation. If she waited too long to marry Philippe, she knew there was a good chance she would be scouring Camberly in search of John.
“I think you will find, Althea, that a marriage of convenience is anything but. It is my sincere wish, my dear, that yours proves to be the exception.” With those words, he turned on his heel and strode towards The Boar’s Head.
Althea wanted to run after him, but common sense prevailed. She joined Lizzie in the trap with mixed feelings. She thought about the tear in his shabby coat and wondered about the house that he was so eager to share with her. All that would come to mind was the merest of cottages. She smiled wistfully. He had sounded so proud of it and with all of her heart, she wished that she had been born a village girl and could share his roof.
Lizzie handed the reins to her, a look of disbelief on her face. “What on earth were you thinking of, condescending to the likes of him? He’s the reprobate what tried to accost me last year. Nigh frightened me to death, that one did.”
Aware that Lizzie had quite forgotten her place, she patted her arm and said, “Your fears were groundless, Lizzie dear. The gentleman mistook you for me.”
Lizzie’s jaw dropped.
Taking pleasure in confounding Lizzie, she determined not to enlighten her further. Considering the depths of her unhappiness at parting with John Soames, Althea wondered why she had gone out of her way to display such pettiness towards a good friend. Not wishing to delve deeper into what she considered to be her wicked nature, she flicked the reins, and with a clicking noise, galvanized the pony into heading for Camberly Hall.
Without even bothering to change her clothes, Althea went to the library, rang for Jarvis, and asked him to inform the marquis that she would like to see him. The marquis lost no time in joining her.
She was pacing the floor when he entered, and after inquiring after his health, invited him to sit down on a large chair covered in bronze-colored cut velvet, which she knew to be a favorite of his.
The marquis complied, then laced his fingers together and gazed at her expectantly. Althea fought back the temptation to tell him she had decided not to marry Philippe. Only the fear that she would seek out John Soames and agree to marry him prevented her from doing so.
Without any preliminaries, Althea came right to the point. “Uncle, after careful consideration, I have decided to follow your sage advice and marry Philippe—that is, if he is agreeable to the idea.”
The marquis beamed. “A beautiful young lady such as you who is also kind and virtuous? Without a doubt, chérie, Philippe will consider it both an honor and a pleasure to marry you.”
“Of course, Philippe must understand that my father left the interests of Camberly in the very capable hands of his friend, Lord Shrewsbury.”
“Eh? But surely when you marry, that all changes?”
“I am afraid not. It in no way calls Philippe’s honor to question, but Papa was merely protecting the future of the earldom against fortune hunters and wastrels.”
“But what of Philippe’s pride? It is only natural for a lady to lean on her husband for guidance. Surely it can be changed in the courts?”
“I am sorry, Uncle, but even if it were possible I would not agree to it. I could not go against Papa’s dying wishes.”
Althea watched his face as it ran the gamut of emotion from frustrated fury to outraged dignity, ending in deprecating acquiescence.
“There is one more condition.”
“And what might that be?” He sounded defeated.
“The wedding must take place before June has passed. The last Saturday of the month, to be precise.”
“But I do not understand. Such haste is most unseemly.”
“Uncle, if you wish this marriage to take place, I suggest that you ensure that Philippe procures a license before I have time to change my mind.”
The marquis looked hurt. “Really, Althea, your attitude is most disturbing. This is a side of you I have never seen before. How can you be so lacking in heart?”
I have a heart, Uncle, but it is broken into a thousand pieces and does not work as well as it should.
“Forgive me, Uncle. I do not mean to sound unfeeling, but is it not natural for a young lady to feel nervous when contemplating her approaching nuptials?”
Seemingly mollified by her words, he smiled. “Quite so, chérie. Now if you will excuse me, I think I shall take my afternoon nap.”
With a bow, he departed the room, slamming the door behind him. Althea was left with a sinking feeling that with its closing, all chances for her future happiness were doomed.
Chapter 12
The next morning, in a desperate effort to postpone facing Philippe, Althea confined herself to the east wing of Camberly Hall, looking for signs of mildew. Later, she found it had been unnecessary, because he did not leave his chamber all day, pleading a slight malaise.
However, the next afternoon, as she sat in her sewing room embroidering a rose on a square of cambric, Philippe poked his head around the door, a tentative smile on his face. With a sinking feeling, Althea smiled in return.
“Feeling better, are you?”
“Hmm?”
“I was told that you were indisposed. A slight malaise?”
“Oh, yes. I am feeling a lot better, thank you.” As he spoke, his gaze shifted from side to side as if he found it difficult to look her squarely in the eye. “It is good of you to ask.”
A deadly silence followed. Althea fought the urge to fidget. For goodness’ sake, Philippe, do get on with it!
Mercifully, he reopened the conversation. “Althea? We are jolly good friends, do you not agree?”
“I would have to say that we rub along fairly well.”
Philippe looked hurt. “That does not sound very warm. What makes you say such a thing?”
Althea wished she had not been so candid but plunged ahead, hoping that honesty would bring them closer together. “Good friends trust one another with their innermost thoughts. You are far too reserved for that.”
Philippe winced. “Good heavens, Althea, I should hope so. Such a lack of restraint is frowned upon in polite Society.”
“The disapproval of polite Society has no bearing on the matter, Philippe. I am referring to the sort of intimacy that exists between good friends.”
“Althea, such sentiment is ill-considered. I am of the opinion that restraint should be practiced with even greater diligence when dealing with one’s friends. Familiarity of that sort can only result in a loss of respect for one another.”
Althea gave up. By all means observe the proprieties, Philippe. Your dear grandpapa drummed such thoughts into your head from the day you uttered your first sentence. What better way is there to control a small boy than discouraging him from forming close bonds with others?
“There are two sides to a question, and fortunately, Philippe, we are both free to make up our minds about such things. Just let us agree that for the most part, we get along well enough.”
Philippe agreed with alacrity. “I quite agree. In fact, I think we get along rather splendidly.”
Althea thought his assessment of their friendship was far too rosy, but was not about to refine on the matter. After all, Philippe would not be comfortable with such an affront to his sense of propriety.
“Yes, Philippe, one might say that”
Philippe beamed, evidently satisfied with so much less than true friendship had to offer.
With a feeling of profound pity, she added a little kindness to the mix. “In fact, I cannot recall one cross word ever passing between us.”
This was evidently the encouragement he needed to goad him into action, for without more ado he dropped to one knee and took her hand. For a moment, he just looked at her with a blank look on his face, as if he had forgotten what he was going to say, then he said, “Althea.”
