3 Miss Franklyn Pays A Morning Call
‘To Mr Bertram Atherton, Westwick Heights. Sir, My daughter has ended her betrothal to Mr Walter Atherton since he is not now to become an earl. As it appears that you stand in line to inherit, she has decided to marry you instead. Please be assured that it would delight me beyond measure to have you as my son-in-law, but if the prospect appals you, as I fear may be the case, you may need to resort to a priest's hole. Failing that, I recommend that you leave the country at once, while you still may. New Holland may possibly be far enough away to deter her. Yours in friendship, John Franklyn.'
***
The family was still gathered in Bertram's library discussing in exhaustive detail the implications of their new circumstances when Carter brought in the letter from Mr Franklyn, so Bertram read it out loud.
"Oh, poor Walter!" Mother cried. "To lose his inheritance and his future bride in the same day — the poor boy!"
"That is hard indeed," Father said. "But the loss of his inheritance must be the greater loss, I should think. His whole life has been spent in preparation for acceding to his father's honours and estates, and now all that is snatched away from him and tossed into my unworthy lap. As to his attachment to Miss Franklyn, it never seemed to me to be very great, and it seems hers was no more so. It is the title she wants, it would appear, and so you are to be the man to lead her to the altar, Bertram. I congratulate you, my son. Forty thousand pounds is a very pretty dowry."
"I shall not be marrying Miss Franklyn, Father, as you know perfectly well," Bertram said, laughing at his father's teasing tone.
"What a pity we have no priest's hole," Lucas said. "It will have to be New Holland."
"No, no, we can hide him in the attics," Penelope said. "There is so much lumber up there that even Bea Franklyn could not discover him."
"The dressing-up box!" Julia said. "We could cover him with a mountain of damask hoop dresses and moth-eaten fur tippets."
"The cellar would be better," Lucas said. "Somewhere between the pipes of port and the apple barrels. There are plenty of dark corners there, and he is not large, so he can squeeze into a small space. You are not afraid of a few spiders, are you, brother?"
"Very droll," Bertram said, joining in the general merriment. "I am not afraid of Bea Franklyn, certainly."
"Perhaps you should be," his father said wryly. "She is a very single-minded young lady. Look how she wound Walter around her thumb."
"He must have had some affection for her," Bertram said. "A man cannot be forced to marry where he has no inclination for it, after all."
"Can he not?" his father said dryly. "You could always run away to your Aunt Lochmaben."
"Scotland is not far enough to keep Bea Franklyn at bay," Lucas said at once.
Their wit flowed for some time on the subject, until Carter entered again.
"The Lady Esther Franklyn and Miss Franklyn have called, madam," he said.
The girls shrieked with laughter, but Mother said placidly, "Show them into the drawing room, Carter."
"I have already taken the liberty of doing so, madam."
"Well, Bertram?" Mother said, with a wry smile. "The girls and I will receive them, but you need not, if you are not so inclined."
"I would not miss it for the world," Bertram said, smiling.
"We will protect you, brother," Emily whispered to him. "She shall not harass you."
"Thank you, sister," he whispered back gravely. Emily was such a timid creature that forthright females like Bea Franklyn terrified her. Bertram was tolerably confident that no female, no matter how forthright, could puncture his masculine defences.
They all trooped out of the library into the hall, the girls still giggling and being shushed by Mother, and thence into the drawing room. Lady Esther stood regally in the centre of the room, her manner as composed as if this were nothing but a routine morning call.
"My dear Mrs Atherton… Mr Atherton… we came at once to congratulate you on your unexpected good fortune."
"We do not regard it as a matter for congratulations," Mother said sharply. "It is a piece of ill fortune for all concerned, as far as I can see. The earl has lost his wife, his children are all rendered illegitimate, Walter has lost his inheritance and his future wife—" Here she paused to glare at Bea. "—and all we have acquired is a burden we never wanted. Pray be seated, Lady Esther. May I offer you some refreshment?"
"Thank you. Most kind. My dear Mrs Atherton, the earldom may seem like a great burden, but it is also a great honour, is it not?" She frowned a little, her aristocratic forehead wrinkling ever so slightly. "My family have always regarded it so. An honour and a privilege, although of course the circumstances in this case are most distressing, naturally. How do the family at Corland bear up under this blow?"
The two ladies sat and fell into the sort of restrained conversation typical of two near neighbours who have little in common. Bertram's mother came from the sort of gentry stock more at ease with the local parson than a scion of a ducal family, and although she could move with ease through any level of society, there was something of reserve in Lady Esther's manner that prevented real intimacy.
Bertram chose to remain standing, but near the door so that he could beat a retreat if the occasion demanded it. Lucas chose a seat by the window, watching the drama unfolding with a little smile on his face, while their father stood beside the fireplace. The three girls, very much in protective mode, waited until Miss Franklyn sat down, then immediately surrounded her. That did not deter her in the least. To Bertram's amusement, she watched him steadily for two or three minutes, then rose and crossed the room to stand beside him.
"Well, Mr Atherton, I am very sorry for Walter and all his family, but this is a fine thing for you."
"Is it?" he said. "I cannot see it, myself. There is distress on all sides, and no one can be happy about that."
"No, it is very sad indeed, but you will be an earl one day. Surely you must be at least a little gratified by that."
"Why should I be? My life was planned out, Miss Franklyn, and I was contented with the future before me. Now those plans are in disarray, and I do not know quite what will replace them." He hesitated, wondering how much he dared to say, but with Bea Franklyn, there was no point in subtlety. "On one matter only am I sure of my future, and that is that marriage will have no part in it. I have two younger brothers and a whole platoon of cousins, and therefore have no need to marry to secure the succession."
She smiled at him. "You are quite sure of that, are you?"
"Quite sure, Miss Franklyn. I tell you this so that there will be no misunderstanding between us. Your father wrote to me, you see, to tell me that you had jilted Walter now that he cannot be earl, and were set on marrying me instead. I should not like you to waste any effort on trying to get me to the altar, for you are doomed to fail."
Her smile widened, and she whispered, "I relish a challenge, Mr Atherton."
There was no dealing with such obstinacy. He made her a small bow. "You will excuse me, I am sure. I have an awkward passage of Horace to transcribe."
And so saying, he made his escape to the library, empty now and an oasis of tranquillity. With a sigh of relief, he sat down at his desk, opened his copy of Horace and set to work. He was so engrossed, he did not hear the door open or soft footsteps approaching him.
"So this is where you are hiding," Miss Franklyn said in her clear voice, right in his ear.
He jumped half out of his skin and dropped his pen, splattering ink all over the page. "Pft! Now look what you have made me do! I shall have to begin again."
"I am very sorry," she said, not sounding at all contrite. "I do not know why you did not hear me, for I was not at all creeping up on you or trying to be quiet."
"It is of no consequence," he said resignedly. "What are you doing in here, Miss Franklyn? Did you wish to find a book?"
"I wondered what you were doing, that is all."
"As I mentioned before, I am transcribing Horace."
"Yes, but why?"
"It is for a treatise I am to present—" He realised abruptly how skilfully he was being drawn in. Here they were, alone in the library, and the door was closed, he now noted, and she was keeping him talking. What interest had she in Horace? Not the least in the world! "You should not be in here without a chaperon, Miss Franklyn. Allow me to escort you back to your mother."
Before he could do so, the door opened and first Carter and then Bertram's three sisters came in at a rush.
"There you are, Bea!" Julia said brightly. "We wanted to show you the new morning gowns in the Lady's Magazine. They are quite ravishing — do come!"
Bea laughed, perfectly aware of the deception, but allowed herself to be shepherded away with only a single backward glance at Bertram.
"I beg your pardon, sir," Carter said, looking flustered. "I left William to watch the hall, but he was obliged to step downstairs for a moment, and the lady slipped past unnoticed. It will not happen again, I assure you."
"Thank you, Carter. I appreciate your concern on my behalf, but it is quite unnecessary."
"If you say so, sir," the butler said, but he sounded unconvinced.
Bertram returned to Horace, and remained undisturbed until the dressing bell.
***
As the carriage made its ponderous way back to Highwood Place, Bea told her stepmother all that Bertram had said.
"I do think it is too bad of Papa to write to him in that way, as if I were jilting Walter! As if I could possibly marry him after his circumstances have so materially altered. You do not think I am wrong to aim for Bertram instead, do you?"
"It is never wrong to aim as high as you can, Beatrice, and an earl is an excellent match for you, with your attractions. I confess I was disappointed that nothing came of your first three seasons in town, apart from the usual array of younger sons and other fortune hunters. You always said that Lord Birtwell was the most likely prospect, and you were proved right about that. But no, I do not advise you to marry an illegitimate son. That would be a sad come-down for a girl in your advantageous position. However, I have to say that Mr Bertram Atherton is likely to be a tougher nut to crack. Nor is he as promising a specimen, to my mind. He is not at all handsome."
"Do you think so?" Bea said. "It is true that Walter is handsomer and more… more manly, perhaps, but there is something rather appealing about Bertram, especially when he removes his spectacles. Do you think he meant what he said, about never marrying? Perhaps I should try for Lucas instead."
"No, no, no! Never accept a younger brother when the elder is unwed… or at all, frankly. It is far too uncertain. Besides, all men say that they will never marry, right up to the point when they propose. Mr Bertram Atherton is certainly your best hope here, but perhaps you would like to cast your net more widely? Not the season again, for there are far too many Honourables and Lady this and that for you ever to shine there, fortune or no fortune, not to mention a few outstanding beauties who attract all the attention. It is a pity about your nose… and those excessive curls, and black, too. If only you had been fair! Golden hair does stand out in a crowd. But you have a trim little figure and are not at all shy, which is fatal with gentlemen. Nor have you ever been so foolish as to fall in love."
"I should hope not, Mama!"
Her stepmother laughed. "No, indeed. That can only end in tears and regrets. But perhaps we should look to my family for a solution to the difficulty. Charity quite took you under her wing this spring, and she invited us to Brandlebury, did she not? Or at least… I am sure I can persuade her to invite us. Should you like that?"
Bea considered for a moment, but she was reluctant to abandon all possibility of securing Bertram. "Lord and Lady Ramsey are still in town at the moment, I believe, and Charity did not know where they would go after that. Let me see what I can do with Bertram, and if I make no progress, then perhaps we can go to Brandlebury in the autumn."
"Very well, dear. That sounds like a sensible plan."
Having thus reached an accord, the two ladies settled down to discuss the abominably provincial fashions of Mrs George Atherton and her daughters.
***
Bertram and his father went the following morning, as arranged, to see the earl and examine the accounts. Bertram's mother decided at the last minute to accompany them.
"I shall sit with Caroline for a while, and perhaps look in on the Dowager, if she is awake."
"Very well, dear," his father said peaceably. "You might see Alice, too, while you are there. My poor sister is having a dreadful time — not only has her husband been killed, but now she discovers that he was a fraud all these years."
They found the earl in a towering rage, fulminating against young women in general and Bea Franklyn in particular.
"To throw him over, just because he will not be an earl! It is a great deal too bad of her. He is the same man, after all, and a fine, upstanding specimen of his sex, as well. Any woman would be glad to have him, I am sure, but not Bea Franklyn, oh no! She thinks herself too grand for him now, just because her stepmother is a duke's daughter, but her father was nobody before he inherited all that money — a mere attorney, and not a very good one, by all accounts."
"Now, now, Charles, I am sure Franklyn was a perfectly competent attorney," Bertram's father said, laughingly. "I am very sorry for Walter if his attachment was a strong one, but he will find someone else, you may be sure."
"That is all very well, but he should have been married long since. Twenty-nine, George! Almost thirty! I was married with four children in the nursery at that age. We knew our duty in those days."
"Three."
"What?"
"Three children in the nursery. At thirty, you only had Walter, Eustace and Josie, but not Izzy."
"Oh… pft. You know what I mean. Now he has to start all over again."
"But imagine if he had been already married, with a whole string of children deprived of their inheritance, too. He is a personable young man, and will not have the slightest difficulty finding a wife, just as soon as he sets his mind to it. But what is he to do with himself, Charles? Eustace has his independence and Kent has always needed to make his way in the world, but Walter has never had to think about a career."
"Nor does he now," the earl said sharply. "He is my eldest son, and I shall not cast him adrift."
"I can help there," Father said. "If Bertram is to inherit Corland, then he has no need of Westwick. I should be happy to leave it to Walter, when the time comes."
"Westwick? Leave Westwick to Walter? My dear brother, it is not to be thought of."
"It is only equitable, Charles. Since Walter has been deprived of his rightful inheritance by Bertram and me, it is fitting that we should surrender our inheritance to him."
"No, no, no! Westwick is Jane's, and only came to you by marriage. It should be kept within her family. You have two other sons, after all. Let Lucas have Westwick. No, I shall take care of Walter, as a father should. I will make Langley Villa over to him and a sum of money… enough for him to support a wife, if he has a mind to. In time, perhaps. I am not sure quite how I am placed just at present. I shall have to ask Clarke. Ha! In all the upheaval, I forgot to tell him to come today."
"We shall see him sometime," Father said easily. "But you cannot be short of money, Charles, not with an income of eight thousand a year."
"No, I am sure… Although after Father died, things were left… No, I cannot be short of money, but Clarke is so stuffy, sometimes. When Nicholson ran things for Father, he had only to ask, and Nicholson would say, ‘Of course, my friend. Let me take care of it.' And he did, whereas Clarke just sucks his teeth, you know how he does, and says, ‘Perhaps next quarter, my lord, if the weather is favourable for the harvest.' And every time he shows me the figures, I am worth a little bit more than the last time, so I suppose his way is best. But he makes me feel guilty, sometimes, for asking for my own money."
"This needs looking into, Charles. You cannot allow your land steward to oppress you."
"You are right, brother." The earl heaved a sigh. "I suppose I ought to take more interest myself. Very well, since three heads will be better than one, we shall all pore diligently over the accounts, and attempt to make some sense of them."