Chapter Twenty-One

When Mr. Wilburn had suggested accompanying the earl to Lady Constance's house, he'd imagined an entirely different scene. The earl was to inform the house why they were missing a daughter, and then there was to be a mad dash toward Gretna Green to attempt to stop the couple.

He'd thought the earl would lay out the impossibility of a marriage between Lord Bramley and Lady Constance and he'd had every confidence that the lady's father would not wish his daughter to land in a less than ideal financial situation.

So much for his assumptions.

They'd thought they'd have to chase after Lord Bramley, but there he'd been, standing on the pavement. Then, he'd stolen Lady Constance away right in front of them and nobody had set off after them. The coachman said they were just going to the park, but why was that believed? Did they not see the lord practically mauling the lady as the carriage went by?

After the carriage disappeared round the corner, Lady Constance's mother had taken them all in hand. Mr. Wilburn would have thought he'd be left to wait outside or in the kitchens, but Lady DeWitton deemed the earl unsteady and requiring him nearby.

That was how he ended up in the drawing room with two earls and a countess under the glare of the resident butler. As that fellow narrowed his eyes, Mr. Wilburn had a great wish to inform him that he was just now in the presence of a member of The League, the most elevated society of butlers in England.

Of course, he could not. It was, after all, a secret society.

"Earl, do sit down and gather your breath," the countess said. "Frederick, fetch the earl a glass of port. I am sure that is what is needed."

"It's all gone wrong," the earl said, mopping his brow.

Lord DeWitton nodded at his wife's suggestion. "I will have one myself. I am not certain what it is we witnessed just now. Where has Constance gone?"

"To the park, darling," the countess said cheerfully. "Now gentlemen, I am certain there is nothing to be alarmed about. Lord Bramley and Constance will return and tell us they are engaged and all will be well. I know Constance was hoping for it and it seems Lord Bramley hoped the same."

"It cannot be!" the earl cried. "You do not understand. My estate, it is a fine estate, but it does not do as well as some others."

The earl waved his hands as if to stop anybody interrupting him, though nobody looked on the verge of interrupting him. "Oh I know he's gone there and done some things to make it produce more, a worthy effort I suppose—but it is not a sure thing!"

"So you are afraid, then," the countess said, "that you will not have the sort of infusion from a dowry that you thought necessary."

"Finally!" the earl cried, snatching the glass of port from the footman's hand. "Finally, somebody understands the problem."

Lord and Lady DeWitton stared at one another. Mr. Wilburn braced himself for what would come next. This would be the moment that they realized the impossibility of it. And then remembered that a carriage had just left with their daughter being mauled by the unsuitable suitor.

The lord and lady began to laugh. Rather hysterically. Was it a nervous condition of some sort?

"Why do you laugh?" the earl cried. "This is no laughing matter."

The countess heaved in a breath. "We will allow the happy couple to enlighten you, Earl."

"Though," Lord DeWitton said, "we are rather delighted at your assessment of the situation. It answers an important question for us."

The earl looked toward his butler. Mr. Wilburn had been standing by the earl's chair. "Do you understand any of this?" he asked.

Mr. Wilburn shook his head sadly. As far as he could tell, Lord and Lady DeWitton were as mad as spring hares. There was not a lick of sense between them.

The next three quarters of an hour were spent in relative silence. Lord and Lady DeWitton beamed at each other, as only the insane can do when faced with dreadful news.

The earl had two more glasses of port and Mr. Wilburn was growing afraid that he'd have to help his lord out of the house when the time came. He also dearly wished the time to depart had come an hour ago.

Finally, the sound of carriage wheels slowing to a stop drifted into the drawing room. The earl made a heroic effort to get to the window, but upon standing he fell back into his chair.

The countess was more successful. She pulled the curtains back. "It is them; they are back."

Mr. Wilburn gripped the back of the earl's chair, steadying himself for what would come next.

What came next was not anything he had imagined. For some time he was not even certain it could be true. Lady Constance was a secret heiress? Who had ever heard of such a thing?

Then, when he had heard all the details and became convinced, it seemed the earl became convinced too. His lord began to say things like, "We are saved."

It was at that moment that Lord Bramley put his foot down. Hard.

His father was to know that Lady Constance's funds would not be propping up the estate. The estate must see success on its own and Lord Bramley would see that it did.

He and Lady Constance intended on purchasing another estate to increase even more what could be made to come in and they expected they would do very well. Their eldest son, were they blessed to have one, would not have the heavy weight of hunting a dowry hanging round his neck. Also, and most incredibly, a thousand pounds was going to a charity for abandoned children.

Mr. Wilburn was all for helping abandoned children, but a thousand pounds of help? How many of them were there?

The earl had argued that it was not necessary to upend all their traditions in such a manner. With a fortune such as that, they might all live comfortably with few worries.

Lord Bramley had simply stared at his father and said, "No."

After the lord had made his views clear to his father, he requested to closet himself away with Lord DeWitton to arrange the details of the marriage contract.

It would of course have been proper for the earl to join in on these discussions but Lord Bramley chose not to include him. The old gentleman was on the worse for wear side of things from three glasses of port anyway.

The earl had finally left to return home sobered in his ideas but less than sober in his person.

As for Mr. Wilburn, he only fretted over how he would explain this palaver to The League.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In all the excitement of the events that had transpired, it was not until the sun had set that day that Matthew realized he was missing a valet. As it happened, Sir Jonathan was missing one too.

Masterson and Sir Jonathan's valet, Jesper, had plodded along all the way to Scotland and then been surprised to find Sir Jonathan's fishing lodge empty. Masterson guessed quick enough what had happened—Lord Bramley had changed his mind and returned to London. In truth, he had thought it likely all along, as why should a lord be driven off in such a manner?

One might have thought those two valets would have turned round and set off for Town the next day. They did not.

Rather, they both enjoyed a well-earned rest and spent a week fishing and drinking brandy by a fire of an evening. They lived like lords and told the staff of the house that it had been sanctioned by Sir Jonathan. After all, they reasoned, there was no point in sleeping in the servants' quarters with all those empty bedchambers going to waste.

They finally packed up and returned to Town, both of them sticking to the story that they were idiots who could not possibly have guessed that their respective employers had turned round.

Constance and Lord Bramley spent the fortnight before the wedding together at all hours, but for when one of them must manage something alone. Lord Bramley saw the bishop for a special license. Constance saw a modiste for a rather elaborate trousseau, most of which would not even be ready in time but sent on later. Lord Bramley made a trip to Rundle and Bridge for the wedding band and, while he was there, a lovely sapphire ring to go with it.

Aside from that welcome present, Bramley also redelivered the mahogany box and paints from Ackerman's. Of course, he thought of challenging Mr. Ludwig again when he was apprised that the scoundrel had somehow put his name to it. He was swiftly talked out of it by means of kisses.

When the couple were not off on necessary errands, they spent an inordinate amount of time in Lord Bramley's family carriage. His father and mother nearly gave up attempting to go anywhere, as the carriage was always gone. The earl was not altogether confident in his skill at managing a hackney driver or Lord Bramley's phaeton.

Matthew stole away the carriage every day though, because it was the most private place the young couple could find.

What when on in that carriage need not be elaborated on, except to say that there was not too terribly much to be discovered on the wedding night that had not already been tried out in the carriage. They were the sort of pair for whom such things came very naturally and it had taken self-discipline on both their parts to be able to enter the church with nothing to apologize for.

Or at least, not everything to apologize for.

The wedding breakfast was a small affair. After all, it was not the event of the season. Lord Bramley was one viscount out of many and his bride was not the catch of the year.

At least, Constance was not the catch of the year until word of her real dowry went round. There were more than a few fathers who berated their sons for allowing the lady to slip through their hands, though nobody but Mr. Ludwig had ever been apprised of the facts of her situation.

Lady Juniper and Miss Semper very naturally attended the church and Sir Jonathan might have spent most of the following breakfast making moon eyes at one of those two ladies. Lady Juniper once more considered launching an investigation into Sir Jonathan's motives, but then on reflection thought better of it. Their investigation into Lord Bramley had nearly ended in disaster.

The couple's wedding trip was of a most unusual kind and lasted nearly five months. They purchased their own carriage and team of horses and set off across the length and breath of England, looking for that second estate they intended to purchase.

It was by no means an organized or efficient sort of trip, as they did find so many charming inns to stop at and they were so wretched at rising early in the morning to set off. There were days when they finally set off after midday, only to happen upon another charming inn two hours later.

There were several estates they considered. But finally, a letter caught up to them in Yorkshire from Sir Jonathan. There was a property available to purchase in Matthew's own neighborhood and they would be fools not to take it as there was a boundary two acres in length that adjoined the earl's estate.

They returned in all haste and made the purchase. While they had planned to settle in the dower house on his father's estate, they now found themselves the owners of a rather fine house in the Palladian style. They decided between them that if they were to be blessed with two sons, the land would go to the eldest, but the second son would have exclusive rights to the house and an income to allow him to live as a gentleman. They assumed they would come up with another idea if there were a third or fourth son.

Matthew and Constance settled into the house, finding themselves close enough to Matthew's parents that they might ride over for a dinner, but not so close that they saw them more often than might be wished for.

Constance found herself bemused by the earl and his countess. The earl was forever complaining about what he called: "All these new schemes." The new schemes were, of course, simply the plans Matthew had put in place to increase the productivity of the estate. It was supposed that the steward complained equally loudly, though he did not dare complain to Matthew directly.

The countess simply amused herself by countering all of the earl's complaints with pointing out the ways of the world. That lady would turn out to be a cracking grandmama, as she so very rarely was perturbed by anything. Spilled tea on the carpet? Way of the world. Stole the fairy cakes out from under Cook's nose? Way of the world. Had a mud fight at the edge of the pond? Way of the world.

Her grandchildren always felt very approved of, no matter what sort of shenanigans they got up to. Therefore, they adored her.

Over time, Matthew began to think differently of Lady Juniper. He would always find her vaguely alarming, but he recognized what a good friend she'd been to Constance, and Miss Semper too, for that matter. He also became apprised of how loyal she'd been to her viscount at home, and how that fellow was the cause of all the dreadful stories she'd told, describing how she would manage her household.

Lady Juniper was in fact successful in overcoming her father and marrying her viscount—after all, who in England could hold up against that lady when she was determined on something?

Matthew and Constance found they liked that viscount very much, as he was a good-humored sort of gentleman and went a long way toward softening Lady Juniper's sometimes pinched features. He also had a fondness for dogs, which was fortunate, as his lady never stopped taking them in one after another.

As for Lady Juniper herself, she would go on to become one of the leading matrons of the ton and regularly pulled aside a young lady and sorted her out to everyone's satisfaction in her original and candid style.

Miss Semper had caught Sir Jonathan's eye right from the start, even when he'd been forced to peer at her through her piles of ruffles and ribbons. From afar, it might seem as if they were very different sorts of people. He was tall, she was short. He was angular, she was rounded. His voice was deep and hers a little fluttery. At their core though, they were very alike. Both were loyal and cheerful and gave everybody the benefit of the doubt. They found themselves well-liked wherever they went.

Sir Jonathan and Matthew had been friends since childhood, they both coming from the same neighborhood. Constance found it very convenient that Miss Semper, now known as Lady Michaels, was to live in such close proximity. And then, Lady Juniper and her viscount were often invited to stay at one or the other's houses.

The Stalwarts were never long parted and the children that eventually arrived heard the story of how their club came to be and promptly named themselves The Loyalists. They wrote to one another when they were parted and ended every letter with their motto—In Aeternum. They all stuck with the idea too and were forever loyal to one another.

Considering what sort of mischief The Loyalists were in the habit of getting up to, Matthew thought they'd be better named The Terrors and their motto should be "Spotting every opportunity for trouble." But as his mother would say, it was only the way of the world.

Mr. Ludwig came to the destiny that men like Mr. Ludwig often do. Though the full story of what the gentleman had been up to was never revealed, it was put into the ear of certain talkers of the ton that he had somehow caused harm to an innocent Lord Bramley. Somehow, and nobody was clear how, he'd been responsible for Lord Bramley being named a viper, a crocodile, and a magpie.

As everybody liked Lord Bramley and rather disliked Mr. Ludwig, though they could not pinpoint why, that gentleman found his invitations dwindling significantly.

To further his societal demise, Mr. Ludwig amused himself one summer with the daughter of his father's physician. Predictably, the lady became with child. Predictably, her doctor papa noticed rather early on. Predictably, that papa demanded a wedding.

Rather unpredictably, that papa was known to be an excellent swordsman and had offered the further inducement of running Mr. Ludwig through if he did not do the honorable thing.

As Mr. Ludwig had a great care for his own person and a realistic assessment of his mediocre sword skills, he wed the lady and they went forward telling a fib as old as time—the baby had come early.

As there was no money coming in, Mr. Ludwig's estate was eventually mortgaged, and then eventually sold. Mr. Ludwig would become a landless baron and, as nobody had liked him to begin, was invited nowhere.

Mr. Wilburn had once despaired of putting a bonnet and shawl on a cow and calling it a lady of fine background, so dire had the situation with Lord Bramley once seemed.

As it turned out, he was able to slap a very fine bonnet and shawl on the events that eventually transpired.

The initial difficulty was having to explain why he'd spent all his time trying to get Lord Bramley away from Lady Constance. Had he been successful at it, he would have deprived Lord Bramley of a twenty-three-thousand-pound dowry.

This left him in the uncomfortable position of being wrong if he succeeded and right if he failed. Failed being the particular sticking point, as Mr. Wilburn did not fail at things.

Happily, he was able to concoct a story so improbable that the league's members could only suppose it to be true. At least, most of them—Mr. Browning kept his suspicions to himself.

According to Mr. Wilburn, he had known of Lady Constance's dowry all along. It had been essential to seem as if he were attempting to pry that couple apart and seem as if he attempted to direct Lord Bramley toward Lady Juniper or Miss Semper so that nobody might guess at this secret enormous dowry.

Mr. Harkinson, as was becoming his habit, had asked no end of uncomfortable questions about it. Fortunately, Mr. Penny had pointed out that in the words of the great bard—All's well that ends well.

In any case, Mr. Wilburn was grateful that his adventure in matchmaking had come to a close without disaster. Over the following months, he would convince himself that he had known about the dowry all along. He would assure himself that he'd been rather a genius at concealing that knowledge. It really seemed as if he had been the puppet master and all in his sphere had been his marionettes. After all, a person cannot be blamed for rewriting their own story in a way that's comfortable.

By the time the next season rolled round, Mr. Wilburn was very satisfied with himself. He presumed Mr. Penny's attempt at matchmaking would proceed calmly and rationally, and probably cheerfully. Mr. Penny was to set out to find the perfect husband for Lady Madeline Cole, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Winthrop.

Whether Lady Madeline would be cooperative with this plan remains to be seen.

The End For Now!