30 The Dower House

Bertram strode into his father's study, and leaned over his chair, unable to suppress the grin on his face.

"There has been a further development with Bea Franklyn."

His father laughed. "By the look on your face, this is definitely a champagne development. You proposed, I take it."

"I did, and she said yes. Or rather, she said ero."

That made his father laugh even more. "Did you propose in Latin, too?"

"Of course. It seemed… appropriate."

"But Bertram, whatever happened to the idea to give her time to settle and so forth? I am not sure I like this mad rush to the altar."

"It was not my intention," Bertram said, hurling himself into the twin of his father's chair. "I was quite happy to let things run on for a while, but Lady Esther had an idea, so…"

"That woman! She will be your mother-in-law, Bertram. She will be interfering with everything you do."

"I plan to be very civil to her, and take no notice of her helpful suggestions."

"Yes, but Bea will— But never mind. I am pleased it is settled, and if Bea Franklyn is the woman who has secured your heart, then I make no objection. Shall we go and tell the rest of the family?"

It was almost the dinner hour before everyone was gathered together. Bertram's father told the servants to leave, and then said, "Bertram has an announcement to make."

Bertram cleared his throat. "I am very happy to tell you that Bea Franklyn has agreed to become my wife."

For a moment, there was silence, then they all began to talk at once. Lucas's voice was the loudest. "She is a leech, brother. Why did you not run away when you had the chance?"

"Lucas, I will thank you not to speak of my future wife in such terms."

"But why, Bertram?" his mother wailed. "You cannot bring a girl like that into this family, to take my place, to raise your children! It is unthinkable!"

"Why is it unthinkable?" he said gently. "I will admit, I thought so myself, once, but as I have come to know her better and grown to love her, I cannot imagine my life without her. She is all that is admirable— no, hear me out, if you please. She is open-hearted and kind and generous, and will make me a wonderful wife."

"She only wants you because she thinks you will be the Earl of Rennington one day," his mother said.

"No, she knows that Uncle Charles is looking for a new wife, and she has recently turned down a much better offer, although you must not repeat that."

His sisters nodded, but Penelope said robustly, "I cannot like her, Bertram. I am very sorry for it, and I will try very hard when she is my sister, but I cannot forget the horrid way she went after Walter, then dropped him when he was no longer of use to her, and then set about ensnaring you. Which she has succeeded in doing, and just because you appear to be happy to be ensnared does not mean that I like it."

"You are quite right," he said. "She has not always behaved as she ought, but a great deal of the blame for that may be laid at the door of her stepmother, who stuffed her head full of pretentious nonsense. Now that Bea has seen the flaws in that philosophy, you will find her far more likeable, I am convinced of it. Once we are married, and she has Mother's excellent example before her, she will go on in a more proper way, I am sure."

***

Bea existed in a bubble of happiness. Nothing could puncture her joy, and not even Lady Esther's obvious disapproval troubled her. Bertram came every day, and not just for Latin lessons. He took her to Westwick Heights, where his family was grudgingly polite to her. The betrothal was formally announced, the notice went off to all the newspapers and a succession of congratulatory visits kept Bea sitting in the Gold Saloon for hour after hour.

One of those who came was Eustace Atherton. "Bertram? You do realise he is never going to be an earl? Father is looking for a younger wife."

"I know. The title is no longer of any interest to me."

"Then why Bertram? He is too bookish a man for an energetic and lively girl like you, Bea. He will be shut away in his library, leaving you all alone."

"No, I shall be in the library with him, Eustace. He is teaching me Latin."

"Latin? Good God, you are in worse case than I thought, if he has drawn you into his dusty world of long-dead writers of dreary poetry."

She laughed. "If you think it is dreary, you have never listened to it, Eustace. Now, you must not be cross because I chose him over you. Wish me joy and be done with it."

His face cleared. "I do wish you joy, of course, but you cannot blame me for being a little bit jealous. My offer has been on the table for several years now, and while I understood Walter's attraction, Bertram is a different case. I do not feel, if we stood side by side, that he would outshine me very greatly. So why him, and not me?"

"I cannot explain it myself," she said, with a quick shake of her head. "You are everything that is desirable in a man and yet… I do not love you. It is unaccountable, is it not? Bertram is the most unlikely man in the world for me to be drawn to, and yet… it happened. One cannot choose who one falls in love with."

He laughed a little, but she thought it was strained laughter. "True enough. He is a most fortunate man, that is all I will say about it. But you will not want a long engagement this time, I suppose? Is it to be a special licence? Or banns? And where will you live?"

"None of that is even thought about yet, but Papa is making noises about the spring. He does not want us to rush into it."

"That is very wise," Eustace said. "After all, who knows what might happen? If you had rushed to marry Walter, you would have been left high and dry, now, with no prospect of the title."

"There is no knowing what may lie in the future for any of us," Bea said pensively. "I do not intend to worry about imponderables. I shall not rush into matrimony, since both our lives have been somewhat turbulent of late, but neither do I want a lengthy engagement. We shall see."

***

Into the haze of Bertram's happiness, practical matters would occasionally intrude. The Franklyns therefore arrived at Westwick Heights in state one day to talk formally about the betrothal. The ladies would discuss dates and wedding clothes and the exact requirements for the new carriage, while Bertram and the other men would talk about settlements.

But first the two families met in the drawing room to enjoy a fortifying glass of Madeira before the serious business of the day.

"Have you two thought at all about where you will live?" Mr Franklyn said.

"My dear Mr Franklyn," Lady Esther said smoothly, "naturally they will live with us. We have so much space to spare. They will have the Royal Apartments in the North Wing… or the Blue Suite, if they prefer the view on that side."

"No, indeed," Bertram's mother said. "Situated in a dip as you are there… most unhealthy. They will do far better with us here. The Dower House will—"

"Dower House? I was not aware that you have a Dower House, Mrs Atherton," Lady Esther said.

"Oh, yes. It was built… oh, seven or was it eight years ago now? Before you came here, Lady Esther, and it has never been occupied, and quite secluded beyond the kitchen garden, so you would not know of its existence. But there it sits, awaiting me whenever George should depart this world, or perfectly suited to a young couple just stepping out in life together."

"But does it have a proper nursery? Sensible attics? I cannot but think, my dear Mrs Atherton, that Beatrice would be much more comfortable beginning her married life in her own home, where she is at ease, and her own parents may take care of her."

"It is for her husband to take care of her once she is married," Mr Franklyn said firmly.

"But you will not want your only daughter to go away and leave you, would you?"

"It is in the nature of daughters to leave their fathers," he said mildly. "I have long expected it. You were perfectly happy for Bea to live elsewhere when it was Walter in the case. But why do we not go and have a look at this Dower House, and then Bea can tell us whether she would like to live there or not?"

It took some time to locate the keys, for it was years since anyone but the servants had been in, and that very infrequently. Eventually, they were found and the whole party donned wraps and coats and scarves against the dampness Mrs Atherton feared was in the air, and ambled across to the Dower House.

Bertram well remembered the house being built. There had been an ancient cottage on the spot before, but it had been torn down to make way for the elegant new construction. He had still been at Eton then, and already had one foot in the Roman world, but he had not yet lost the fascination with the practical elements of his own. So it was that the long vacation that year had been enlivened by watching the walls slowly rising, then the roof going on and finally a succession of carpenters, plasterers, painters and the like working on the inside. He could still recall the excitement when a carved marble fireplace was fitted or the swirls of a chandelier hung, and then there was the never-to-be-forgotten day when the kitchen range was manoeuvred down to the basement.

He had not been to the Dower House for years, however. The hedge around it had grown high enough to hide it from the world, and he had almost forgotten its existence. Now he looked at it as a possible future home, and saw it in a different way. It was still sparklingly new, the walls and windows untouched by the grime of soot, the stonework unweathered. The roof tiles were still uniform, and every chimney pot stood proudly upright, just as the builder had left it. But the house was smaller than he remembered.

Inside, the rooms were empty, with not a stick of furniture or a rug to be seen anywhere, only bare floorboards in stark contrast to the opulent decoration of the walls and ceilings.

Bea ran ahead, throwing open shutters, while Bertram followed Lady Esther from room to room as she muttered, "No proper hall… tiny parlour… small study… inadequate drawing room… hmm, dining room not bad, but no service stairs."

Bertram's mother was in front of her, but she turned round to say, "This house was designed for only one person, Lady Esther."

Upstairs were the same four rooms in the same proportions, and yet another set above that.

"So many bedrooms, in a house designed for just one person," Lady Esther remarked. "You must have anticipated having a great many friends to visit, Mrs Atherton."

"I am very sociable, it is true," she said. "I have many friends. However, my main concern was to have enough room for all the children still in need of a mother's care, should I be widowed early. It is fortunate that I made such provision, for now there can be no question of inadequate nursery space."

Lady Esther had no answer to that. The attics were pronounced tolerable. When they returned to the ground floor, the men went off to look at the exterior, but Bertram's mother said brightly, "The basements, Lady Esther? The kitchens are the heart of any house, are they not? I am sure you will be pleased with the range we had installed."

"Kitchens… yes," Lady Esther said vaguely. "But do tell me more of this scheme to find a match for Lord Rennington. How ingenious you are, Mrs Atherton. But perhaps, with my connections, I might be of some service in the enterprise."

Their voices drifted away as they descended the stairs, leaving Bertram alone with Bea.

"Oh, dear," Bea said. "Now that I am settled, Mama will start interfering with everyone else's matrimonial plans. Do tell your sisters to be on their guard."

"She likes to be useful," Bertram said easily, in too good a humour even for Lady Esther to irritate him.

"No, she likes to manage everyone."

Bertram laughed. "You must have the patience of a saint to have survived her ministrations for so long. But let us not talk about your Mama. What do you think?" He took her hand and led her around the ground floor again. "It is very small," he said sadly. "Not at all what you are used to."

"The rooms may be a little smaller than at Highwood, but there are more than enough of them. The dining room will seat twenty, at a pinch, and we have ample bedrooms, so we can invite all your scholarly friends to stay."

"And plenty of room for a nursery," he said softly.

She blushed and nodded. "Would you mind very much if our first son is not named after you?"

"What did you have in mind instead?" he said, smiling.

"Horace, naturally. Horace Atherton… that sounds well, does it not? Look…" She led him into one of the rooms off the hall. "Here is our library. There are two windows, one for each desk. We can have bookcases on every wall. The globes will go in this corner, here, and beside the fire, twin sofas so that we can both sit with our feet up as we read Horace. How does that sound?"

"It sounds… perfect," he said, with a sigh, pulling her into his arms. She lifted her face expectantly, but he only sighed again. "Will you ever tire of Latin, do you think? Will you tire of me? I am so dull and ordinary and uninteresting, and you are so—"

"Brash? Bumptious? Uncivilised?"

"Animated. Full of energy. You make me feel alive, Bea. I was living half a life, to be truthful, with most of delights of the world passing me by. I preferred my books and the Romans to the real world, and never knew what I was missing, until you came along."

"But I was living half a life, too, until I got to know you. I dutifully sat with Mama day after day, aware that there must be more to life than painting watercolours very badly and my appalling needlework, but not having the least notion how to find it. I thought I would start to live properly when I married a man of high rank. You showed me that there is so much more to life than marriage. There is Latin!"

"That is what I am afraid of — that you will find all your satisfaction in Latin, and will not need me at all. Or perhaps it will be something else that captures your interest, and I will be left behind in Rome or Carthage or Troy."

"I shall always need you, Bertram. Do you remember the first time you kissed me?"

"Of course!"

"That kiss was… amazing. Magical. The duchess said that when you kiss the right man, something magical happens and you just know that he is the one, and it is true. When you kissed me, I knew. Although, being stupid, I had no faith in my own judgement, so I kissed Lord Brockscombe and then Lord Thomas, and they were not magical at all. And even then, I thought I ought to kiss Lord Grayling, just to compare, but you rescued me from that mistake. And slowly — oh, I am so slow sometimes! — I realised that you were the right man all the time, and I discovered that I loved you. So no, I am not ever going to leave you behind in Rome or anywhere else, and yes, I shall always need you. Whatever happens to us in the future, whatever we have to do or say or be, whether you become the earl one day or remain an obscure country gentleman, whatever life throws at us, we will face it together, side by side. Two people with hearts that beat in unison. And that is a promise."

Bertram's throat was too tight for words, but when the words dried up, there were always kisses. So he kissed her and held her tight and then kissed her again, and lost himself in love all over again.

THE END