5 Schemes And Gossip

"You did very well, Beatrice," Lady Esther said complacently, smoothing her gloves, as the carriage wended its way homewards. "He is by no means so easy a target as Walter was, but I am not unhopeful. You kept him well enough entertained today that he did not run away, and that is a very good sign. He will come to our little evening party, I trust?"

"He did not say he would not, but—"

"Excellent. You will have ample opportunity to advance your campaign."

"But Mama, he still says he will not marry me, and he is going away in two weeks, for a whole month!"

Lady Esther turned sharply. "A month? That is very bad… oh, I recall now, he does so every year. Some gentlemen's affair. And by the time he returns, we shall be beginning our autumn round of visits, by November we shall be snowed up and he will not go to town in the spring. This is very bad, Beatrice. It means we must move rather more precipitately in the two weeks allowed us. We cannot afford to delay."

"I can win him round in time, Mama," Bea said. "I managed it with Walter, after all. It is merely a matter of persistence."

"Walter was a far easier fish to catch. You had him on your hook early, and could take your time in reeling him in. Bertram is set against you from the start, and will be far more of a challenge. Perhaps we should give up the idea altogether, and concentrate on Marshfields… or Brandlebury. What do you say to Lord Hector, perhaps? He seemed interested and you would be Lady Hector immediately, instead of Lady Rennington at some time in the distant future. Does the idea appeal to you?"

"Not really. Lord Hector is so… cold, somehow. Bertram is not so imposing a figure as Walter, it is true, but there is something rather sweet about him. Besides, I know him well and he is not starchy, like some of the nobility. They look down on me because my father was only an attorney."

"And the fortune from iron foundries," Lady Esther said slowly. "It is true that you have not been received into my circle with the enthusiasm that one might have hoped for, and that will only be worse now. The problem is, Beatrice, that everyone now knows that your primary interest is a title. With Walter your single-minded approach was easily mistaken for love, but that fiction can no longer be sustained. Nor have you the advantages of great beauty or breeding that would naturally attract suitors. I have done my best with you, as you know — your accent is perfectly acceptable, most of the time, and your deportment and manners are… adequate. But there is that forwardness in your behaviour that deters some men. It will stand you in very good stead when you are married, but it does make it a touch more difficult to attain that state. Besides that, you are one and twenty already, and perilously close to being on the shelf. One does not wish to appear desperate." She was silent for some time, lost in thought, but then she rallied. "So I believe we cannot wait, and must resort to a degree of subterfuge."

"Mama, I do not want to trap Bertram into marriage if he is set against it," Bea said unhappily. "It would be quite horrid if he resents me afterwards."

"Nonsense!" her stepmother said robustly. "Men never know what they want until they have it. Once you are safely married, you will be able to ensure that your husband is completely happy. I shall teach you how to achieve that. Your papa is happy, is he not?"

"But you did not trap him into it," Bea said. "He was already thinking of marrying again before he met you."

"So he was, but I had to put myself in his way to ensure that those thoughts became focused on me. A lady has many weapons in her arsenal with which to ensure the correct outcome."

"You make it sound like a war."

"And so it is, in a way, and although we may lose a battle here and there, nevertheless, we always win the war, if we set our minds to it. In your case, putting yourself in Bertram's way will not do, nor will resolution. He does not strike me as a man who will simply surrender. But he is an honourable man, and so we will arrange for him to behave in an honourable way."

"Mama, what are you planning?"

"No need for you to worry about that. So long as you do what I say — precisely as I say, mark you — all will be well, and we shall have Mr Bertram Atherton in your pocket in no time."

And nothing more could she be induced to say about it, leaving Bea uneasy in the extreme.

***

‘Mr Bertram Atherton, Westwick Heights, Birchall, North Riding. My friend, I am the bearer of bad news, I fear. Wedhampton has taken it into his head to host our little gathering this year, or rather Her Grace has. Having suffered the restrictions of a confinement and a multitude of bereavements which have kept her at home these past two or three years, she is determined to enjoy herself a little at last, and inflict the same enjoyment on the rest of us, whether we wish it or not. What is worse, she is bringing her two cod-faced cousins with her, with the object of finding husbands for them, and we are all bidden to bring spinsters of our own to Landerby so that Her Grace may exercise her match-making skills to greatest effect. It sounds appalling, but I know you have sisters, so you may wish to bring one or two of them along. Wedhampton is a good fellow, however, so the talks are to go ahead as planned, and we are all looking forward to your paper. Optationes optimas ad te, Thomas Medhurst.'

***

"What, send the girls off to mix with your Cambridge friends?" Bertram's mother shook her head decisively, as she paused in pouring the tea that evening. "No, no, a thousand times no. Julia is already betrothed, Penelope is too young for such raffish company, and Emily would not enjoy it, even if I could spare the time to take her. Can you not take Lucas? He would enjoy it, I am sure."

Lucas looked up hopefully, but Bertram shook his head. "The Duchess has particularly requested unmarried young ladies," he said, slightly bemused by the description of his scholarly friends as ‘raffish'. "The place will be awash with male company as it is."

"One does not like to disoblige a duchess…" his father began, but his mother waved a hand imperiously.

"It is impossible. There is no question of it, Bertram, you must see that."

"Of course, Mother. It was only an idea, a way of introducing Emily into a wider society without all the fuss of a season."

"Emily will do very well at Harrogate, and perhaps York. Nothing too demanding… an assembly here, a musical evening there. Nothing so dissipated as to risk her health. There is no need to go to London, none at all. Look at Julia — betrothed without ever leaving Yorkshire. When do you leave for Landerby, dear?"

"Late next week, Mother. Thursday, most probably. Father, may I take Whyte with me this year to look after my riding horse? He is more than capable now of managing on his own, and that will leave you Morton for the coach, for Mother's comfort."

"Thank you, dear, that is most thoughtful. I much prefer Morton," Mother said. "Such a careful driver! One always dreads an overturning, and the dire consequences that inevitably follow. Remember Milly Dewar who was thrown from the gig, and seemed perfectly unharmed? Dead within a week! Will you call Emily from the instrument now? She plays very well, but her fingers will be worn to the bone and she must be at her best for tomorrow night." She heaved a sigh. "This has been such a pleasant evening — a quiet, family evening, just as I most enjoy."

"You need not go to Highwood tomorrow if you dislike it, my dear," her husband said. "Bertram, Lucas and I can look after the girls perfectly well. It will be a very starchy affair, I am sure, and I know how such entertainments wear you down. I can make your excuses for you."

"I do not like these evening engagements," Mother said plaintively. "The night air is so injurious to one's health, if one is not very careful. However, if the girls wrap up well in the carriage and stay away from any windows that have been recklessly thrown open, they may escape without taking a chill. Besides, one must make the effort for a neighbour, although I always end the evening with my head aching abominably, and my face numb from too much smiling. Lady Esther always makes me feel… inadequate, in some way."

"She just likes to show off her grand new house and her army of footmen," Father said. "Such ostentatious display is quite unnecessary. We all know she is a duke's daughter, so there is no need for her to rub our noses in it. To my mind it would be more becoming in her to keep her entertainments simple when she is in the North Riding, and save all the display for town, when she has a credulous audience more willing to be impressed by it."

"For the son of an earl, and perhaps a future earl, you are very hard on a fellow scion of the nobility," Bertram said. "I imagine it is only what she is used to."

"Very likely. All the dukes are very grand, as you must be aware, considering who your friends are. One must maintain appearances, and ensure the world knows one's exalted rank. I have always been very thankful to be a second son, and spared the necessity to live my life as anything other than a country gentleman."

"But that will change now, will it not?" Bertram said. "There will come a time when you will have to assume an exalted rank yourself."

"Maybe not," his father said complacently. "My brother is to take a new wife."

This announcement naturally caused a sensation, and for a few minutes he was so bombarded with questions that he could not speak at all, but eventually he hushed them enough to say, "It is all your mother's doing, persuading Lady Rennington to stand aside."

"I did no such thing!" Mother said indignantly. "I merely asked if she had considered the idea, and she took it up at once. She needed no persuading, I assure you. She has been greatly distressed by the rendering of her own children illegitimate, and she is past the age when she might hope for more children herself. As soon as I mentioned it, she said at once that it was the very thing for Charles and would I draw up a list of suitable candidates, so that he need not suffer the indignity of the London season."

"How will he meet these candidates?" Bertram said.

Mother went slightly pink. "Well… I shall invite them to stay with me here, so that Charles may meet them discreetly."

"So that is why Lady Rennington has gone away," Bertram said.

"Poor lady," Emily said softly. "It must be very hard to be cast aside after so many years."

"Thirty years," Julia said, her eyes wide with shock. "Walter is twenty-nine so it must be thirty, at least."

"Caroline is doing what every wife and mother must do," their father said, "and that is her duty. She is no longer married to the earl, so she is stepping aside to allow him to marry a younger woman who will give him sons."

"More sons," Julia said.

"Legitimate sons," her father said firmly. "And we must all be very thankful for it. I shall never have to assume the heavy burden of the peerage, your mother will not be obliged to leave her beloved home, and Bertram is spared a most unexpected inheritance."

"Let us hope this second marriage is fruitful, then," Julia said acidly. "Just imagine if Aunt Caroline makes this noble sacrifice, and all that happens is that the nursery at Corland fills up with girls… or perhaps no children at all. How bitter that would be!"

"There is never any bitterness in sacrifice," her mother said complacently. "Caroline is doing the right thing to secure the succession, and may draw satisfaction from that."

"And if her sacrifice is in vain, then Papa will be ready to step into the breach," Penelope said, beaming at him.

"There is no need to look so gleeful, young lady," Father said. "I shall do my duty, as we all must, but I cannot suppress a feeling of relief that it may not be necessary. However, this scheme is all very much in the air, so none of you must say a word to anyone about it. No doubt it will become known soon enough, but for the present say only that Lady Rennington is staying with her sister for a while, and nothing about the rest of it, or poor Charles will be besieged with hopeful maidens wishful to become a countess."