First Comes Marriage

8

ELLIOTT stayed for three more days before he returned home to Finchley Park. And it was during those days that he began to consider seriously the idea of marrying Miss Margaret Huxtable.

The sisters, even though they were more refined than he had at first feared, were desperately in need of some town bronze and some connections suitable to their new status. They needed it all now, this year, this Season. And the Season would be beginning in earnest as soon as Easter was over.

As it was, they were all very countrified and naive and an easy prey to practiced charmers like Con Huxtable.

Con left Warren Hall the day after the averted fight. He had mentioned leaving the evening before, insisting when there was a chorus of protests from his cousins that he really did have important business to attend to elsewhere. He left without fanfare, early in the morning before anyone was up.

Elliott was greatly relieved. But he did not trust Con to stay away. The Huxtables needed to be taken away instead, at least temporarily, to be educated in the ways of the /ton/.

Elliott observed them all during the days following Con's departure. And he was pleased with what he saw of Miss Huxtable. She was learning fast - from her consultations with the housekeeper and the cook - how to run such a large household. She was taking her duties seriously.

She was an intelligent and sensible woman.

She was also, of course, almost incredibly beautiful. With some grooming, which she would quickly acquire in town, she would be nothing short of stunning.

It was a dispassionate observation. He felt no stirring of desire for her. But then he had never expected to feel any such thing for his chosen bride. One married for reasons other than passion.

Marriage to Miss Huxtable would be convenient in a number of ways. And there was no point in paying any attention to the slight depression he felt at the prospect. Just the thought of marriage itself was depressing. It was also unfortunately necessary and could be delayed no longer.

He was still not sure when he left Warren Hall that he would make the offer, but he was seriously considering it.

Young Merton had concentrated more of his attention on his position once the distraction of Con's presence had been removed - though he was clearly disappointed to lose someone he admired a great deal. He and Samson took well to each other, and Samson was just the man to teach his young master much of what he needed to know. Elliott had talked with the boy about the necessity of hiring a tutor to teach him the rest - of hiring two tutors, in fact, one to teach him to be an aristocrat, the other to instruct him in the academics he would need in order to go to university. The boy had been somewhat taken aback by the suggestion that he continue with that plan, but Elliott had pointed out to him that a true gentleman was also an educated gentleman. Miss Huxtable had agreed with him, and Merton had succumbed.

Elliott was not displeased with the boy.

George Bowen had been sent on to London to interview suitable candidates for tutor, as well as one for the position of valet. Merton had protested that he did not need a personal servant since he had always looked after his own needs. But it was one of the first lessons he must learn. An earl must look the part when he went into society, in deportment and manner as well as in dress, and who better to see that he did than an experienced valet?

Finally Elliott felt it possible to leave Warren Hall, at least for a few days. He wanted to go home. He also wanted to give full consideration to what he had rejected out of hand a mere couple of weeks ago when George had first suggested it. But he thought he would probably decide to offer for Miss Huxtable.

There was really only one consideration that might give him serious pause. If he married her, he would be acquiring Mrs. Dew as a sister-in-law.

It was a depressing thought.

It was enough to cause him to live in a permanent bad temper.

The woman had smiled sunnily at him for three days, as if she thought him something of a joke.

It felt good to be home at last.

His youngest sister was the first person he saw when he arrived. She was on her way out of the house, dressed dashingly for riding. She smiled warmly and turned her cheek for his kiss. "Well?" she asked him. "What is he like?" "I am delighted to see you too, Cece," he said dryly. "You mean Merton?

He is cheerful and bright and seventeen years old." "And handsome?" she asked. "What color is his hair?" "Blond," he said. "I prefer men with dark hair," she told him. "But no matter. Is he tall?

And slim?" "Is he an Adonis in fact?" he asked her. "You will have to decide for yourself. Mama will doubtless take you over there soon. His sisters are there with him." She brightened still further. "Are any of them my age?" she asked. "I believe the youngest must be close," he said. "A year or two older, probably." "And is she pretty?" she asked. "Yes, very," he told her. "But so are you. And now you have had your compliment from me and can go on your way. You are not going to be riding alone, I hope?" "No, of course not!" she said, pulling a face. "One of the grooms will ride with me. I am going to join the Campbells. They asked me yesterday and Mama said I might go provided it did not rain." "Where /is /Mama?" he asked. "In her rooms," she said.

A few minutes later he sank gratefully into a soft up-holstered chair in his mother's private boudoir and accepted a cup of coffee from her hands. "You really ought to have let me know that you were bringing Merton's three sisters as well as him, Elliott," she said in response to the brief report he had delivered as soon as he had hugged her and asked after her health. "Cecily and I would have gone to call on them yesterday or the day before." "I judged that they needed some time to adjust to their new surroundings and circumstances, Mama," he said. "Throckbridge is a very small village quite off the beaten track. They lived there in near poverty in a small cottage. The youngest sister was teaching at the village school." "And the widow?" she asked. "She was living at Rundle Park, home of a baronet, her father-in-law," he said. "But it is not large, and Sir Humphrey Dew is a foolish, garrulous man, albeit good-natured and harmless. I doubt he has ever been farther than ten miles from home." "They are all going to need to be brought up to scratch, then," she said. "They are." He sighed. "I hoped to bring just Merton himself for now.

The sisters could have followed later - preferably /much /later." "But they /are /his sisters," she said, getting to her feet to pour him another cup. "And he /is /just a boy." "Thank you, Mama," he said, taking his cup from her hands. "How peaceful it is in here." He wished she did not have another daughter to bring out this year. It would save him from having to…

But he was going to have to marry /someone /this year. "They are a noisy family?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, no, no, nothing like that." He sighed again. "It is just that I felt so - " "Responsible?" she suggested. "You have done ever since you inherited that obligation, Elliott. Is the boy intelligent? Serious-minded?

Willing to learn?" "Definitely intelligent," he said, "though with something of a restless nature, I believe. He has wings and desperately wishes to use them without having much idea of how it might best be done." "He is, then, a typical young man," she said with a smile. "I suppose so," he said. "But he shows an interest in his land and its workings and in the prospect of taking on all the responsibilities of being a peer of the realm when he reaches his majority. He has agreed to continue with his plans to attend Oxford this autumn. He certainly has charm. I believe the servants at Warren Hall already adore him - not excluding Samson." "Then your time and efforts will not be wasted," she said. "And the ladies? Are they hopelessly rustic? Vulgar? Dull-minded?" "None of those things." He drained his cup, sighed with contentment as he stretched out his booted feet before him, and set it down at his elbow. "I believe they will go on well enough. But, Mama, they are going to need to be taken to town this spring and outfitted properly and introduced to all the right people and presented to society and…

Well, I just do not know how it is to be done. /I /cannot do it - not for the sisters, at least." "Certainly not," she agreed. "And /you /cannot do it," he said. "You have Cecily to bring out this year." He looked at her half hopefully. "I do," she agreed. "I did think perhaps Aunt Fanny or Aunt Roberta - " he began. "Oh, Elliott." She interrupted him. "You /cannot /be serious." "No," he said. "I suppose not. And Grandmama is far too elderly. George says I ought to marry and have my wife sponsor them." She brightened noticeably but then frowned. "You told me after Christmas," she said, "that you intend to marry this year, before you turn thirty. I am delighted, of course, but I do hope you are not intending to choose coldly with your reason and forget that you also have a heart." "And yet," he said, "marriages that are carefully planned and arranged often turn out more happily than love matches, Mama." He wished he had not said that as soon as the words were out. His mother's marriage had been very carefully arranged. But though she had been young and beautiful - and was still handsome in middle age - it had not been a happy match. His father had remained firmly attached to the mistress and family that had preceded her and her own.

She smiled into her cup but did not look up at him. "George suggested that I marry Miss Huxtable," he told her, watching her closely.

His mother had been lifting her cup to her lips, but her hand paused in midair. "The eldest sister?" she asked. "Of course," he said. "A rustic girl who has been living in a rural cottage?" She frowned at him and set her cup back in the saucer. "And someone you scarcely know?

How old is she?" "Probably in her middle twenties," he said. "She is sensible and refined of manner despite her humble upbringing in a country vicarage - and she is the great-granddaughter and sister of an earl, Mama." "/George /said." She looked fixedly at him. "But what do /you /say, Elliott?" He shrugged. "It is time I married and set up my nursery," he said. "I am quite resigned to being a married man before the year is out and a father as soon as possible after that. I have no preference for any particular bride. Miss Huxtable is, I suppose, as eligible as anyone." His mother sat back in her chair and said nothing for a while. "Jessica and Averil both married advantageously," she said. "But just as important, Elliott, they both had an affection for their husbands even before they married them. It is what I will hope for with Cecily either this year or next. It is what I have always hoped for with you too." "This is a discussion we have had before." He smiled at her. "I am /not /a romantic, Mama. I hope to marry someone with whom I can enjoy some comfort and companionship and even affection down the years. But most of all I hope to marry sensibly." "And is Miss Huxtable a sensible choice?" she asked him. "I trust so," he said. "Is she beautiful?" his mother asked. "Extremely," he said.

She set down her cup and saucer on the table beside her. "It is high time Cecily and I took the carriage over to Warren Hall," she said, "to pay our respects to the new Earl of Merton and his sisters. They must think it remiss of us not to have done so already. Is Constantine still there?" "He left three days ago." His jaw tightened. "Cecily will be disappointed," she said. "She adores him. I daresay the new Earl of Merton will be inducement enough to persuade her to accompany me, though. She has asked a thousand questions about him, none of which I have been able to answer. I will take a look at Miss Huxtable. Are you quite determined to have her?" "The more I think of it, the more I am in favor of the idea," he said. "And will she have you?" his mother asked.

He could not see why not. Miss Huxtable was single and perilously close to being an old maid. He could understand why she had not married before now, though with her looks she must have had offers even in a back-water like Throckbridge. But she had made that promise to her father, and she had kept it. There was no further need to remain with her family now, though. Her two sisters were past girlhood, and Merton would have them for company - and his guardian and eldest sister for neighbors.

Nothing, in fact, could be more convenient - for any of them. "I believe so," he said.

His mother leaned forward and touched his hand. "I shall go and see Miss Huxtable for myself," she said. "Tomorrow." "Thank you," he said. "I would appreciate your opinion, Mama." "My opinion," she said, "ought not to matter, Elliott. If she is the woman of your choice, you ought to be willing to defy the devil himself if necessary in order to wed her." She raised her eyebrows as if expecting him to declare an undying passion for Miss Huxtable. He covered her hand with his own and patted it before getting to his feet.

Viscountess Lyngate called at Warren Hall with her daughter the next day.

There was very little warning of their coming.

Stephen came into the library from the steward's office, where he had been ensconced with Mr. Samson, to inform his sisters that Viscount Lyngate's carriage was approaching up the driveway. But there was nothing very remarkable in that. He had said when he left yesterday that he would return frequently. And his business would be with Stephen.

Margaret was examining the housekeeper's books, which Mrs. Forsythe had sent up at her request. Vanessa, having finished writing a letter to Lady Dew and her sisters-in-law, was examining all the leather-bound books on the shelves and thinking that this room was a little like heaven.

And then Katherine came flying up from the stables to announce the approach of the carriage /and /the viscount himself, who was on horseback. "Whoever can be in the carriage, then?" Margaret asked in some alarm, closing the book on the desk in front of her and running her hands over her hair. "Oh, my," Katherine said, looking down at her disheveled self - she had just been having a lesson with one of the grooms. "His /mother, /do you think?" She dashed off again, presumably to wash her hands and face and make herself more presentable.

Margaret and Vanessa had no such opportunity. They could hear the carriage already drawing to a halt before the doors beyond the window, and then they could hear voices in the hall. Stephen stepped out to greet the new arrivals. And they were indeed the viscountess and her daughter. Viscount Lyngate brought them into the library almost immediately and presented them.

They looked very grand indeed to Vanessa. Their dresses and pelisses and bonnets were obviously in the very height of fashion. She felt instantly transformed into a country mouse and looked reproachfully at the viscount, who might have sent a warning. She was still wearing the apron she had put on over her gray dress as protection against any dust on the bookshelves. Margaret's hair, like her own, was caught up in the simplest of knots and had not been brushed for hours.

He looked back and raised his eyebrows - and it was almost as if she could read his thoughts. True ladies, that disdainful look seemed to say, were always prepared for unexpected visitors during the afternoon. He, of course, was looking as immaculate as ever - and as handsome and virile. "How kind of you to have called," Margaret was saying, behaving as if she were quite unruffled. "Do come up to the drawing room, where we can be more comfortable. Mrs. Forsythe will send tea." "I was extremely happy to hear from Elliott that you had insisted upon bringing your sisters with you, Merton," Lady Lyngate said as they were ascending the stairs. "This is a large house for a young gentleman alone." "If he had not insisted, /I /would," Margaret told her. "Stephen is only seventeen years old, and while he insists that he is as close to being an adult as makes no difference, I would not have known a moment's rest if I had allowed him to come alone, with only Viscount Lyngate and Mr.

Bowen for company." "That is quite understandable," Lady Lyngate said while Stephen looked sheepish and Miss Wallace eyed him with interest. "/I /would not have guessed you were seventeen," that young lady said. "I would have thought you were older than I am, and I am eighteen." Stephen smiled winningly at her.

Katherine joined them after they had been in the drawing room just a few minutes. She looked tidy and clean with a shiny, freshly washed face.

She also looked lovely, as she always did. But Vanessa, gazing fondly and critically at her, could see that she appeared quite unpolished in contrast with Miss Wallace. "Perhaps," Viscount Lyngate said, "we could excuse ourselves from taking tea with the ladies, Merton. I want to hear what you have accomplished since yesterday." Miss Wallace looked openly disappointed, but she transferred her attention to Katherine. "Elliott says you are to go to town after Easter for a come-out Season," she said. "It is to be my come-out too. We will be able to keep each other company. I wish my hair had golden highlights as yours does. It is lovely." Miss Wallace was very dark - like her brother. It was obvious that they got their coloring primarily from their mother, who looked very Greek with her silvering dark hair and strong, handsome features. "Thank you," Katherine said. "I am very much enjoying being at Warren Hall, I must confess. I am not so sure about London just yet, though.

There is so much space to explore here and so much beauty to appreciate, and I am learning to ride." "Only /learning/?" Miss Wallace asked, all incredulity. "I am afraid so," Katherine said. "Meg learned when Papa was alive and we still had a horse. And Nessie rode at Rundle Park after she married Hedley, our brother-in-law. But I never had a chance. Constantine gave me a few lessons before he went away a few days ago, and now Mr. Taber, the head groom, is helping me." "I am /so /vexed that Con has left," Miss Wallace said. "He never comes to Finchley these days and Mama will not allow me to come here alone. I adore him. Is he not the most handsome man you have ever seen?" Katherine smiled and Lady Lyngate raised her eyebrows. "Anyway," Miss Wallace continued, "you simply must come to town for the Season. I brought a book of fashion plates with me - it is in the carriage. Do let me show it to you. Some of the newest styles would look wonderful on you - you are so beautifully tall and slender. Indeed, I am sure they /all /would." "Perhaps, Kate," Margaret suggested, "you and Miss Wallace would like to take the book into the library, where you may enjoy its contents without interruption." They went off together, leaving Margaret and Vanessa alone with the viscountess. She smiled at them graciously but kindly enough, and they conversed politely on a number of topics while tea was served. "You really do all need to make an appearance in town this spring," Lady Lyngate said eventually, "though I can understand that the prospect may be daunting to you. Your brother is too young, of course, to mingle freely with his peers as he will be able to do in a few years' time.

Nevertheless, the /ton /will wish to have a look at him. They have been deprived of an Earl of Merton for long enough. Jonathan was a mere boy and incapable anyway of leaving here." "It is nevertheless tragic that he died so young," Vanessa said. "He was your nephew, ma'am?" "My sister's boy," the viscountess said. "Yes, it was sad indeed, especially as she died not long after his birth. But he was happy all his life, you know. Perhaps happiness compensates for a short life. I like to believe so. And he died suddenly and peacefully. It is your brother who belongs here now, however, and he seems to be a delightful young man." "We think so, of course," Vanessa said. "He owns a house in town," Margaret said. "And so there would be no problem of accommodation if we were to go there. But there are all sorts of other problems, as you can see, my lady, just from looking at us." "You are extremely lovely," Lady Lyngate said frankly, looking, of course, just at Margaret. "Thank you." Margaret flushed. "But that is not the point." "No, it is not," Lady Lyngate agreed. "But if one of you were just married, your problem would be solved." "My husband is dead, ma'am," Vanessa said. "He did not move in /ton/nish circles anyway, though his father is a baronet." "No," the viscountess said, her eyes resting kindly upon Vanessa for a moment before moving back to Margaret. "The husband would have to be well placed in society, someone to give you position and countenance.

And then with a presentation at court and the right clothes and a little polishing, you would be quite able to sponsor your sisters and find husbands for them too." Margaret's hand crept to her bosom, and her flush returned. "/I/, my lady?" she asked. "You have been caring for your brother and sisters for a number of years," Lady Lyngate said. "You have behaved admirably. But valuable years have gone by. You are still lovely, and you have a natural grace of manner that will make it relatively easy for you to take with the /ton/. But it is, my dear, time for you to marry - for your own sake as well as for that of your siblings." "Meg does not have to marry for /my /sake," Vanessa said, her eyes upon Margaret, whose flush had disappeared, leaving her looking rather white. "No," Lady Lyngate agreed. "But you have had your chance, Mrs. Dew. Your elder sister has not. And your younger sister will need her chance soon - she is older than Cecily. Forgive me. You may say that this is none of my business, and you would, of course, be quite right. However, you confess yourselves to be in need of help and advice. This is my advice to you, Miss Huxtable. Marry as soon as you may." Margaret's color had returned and she looked suddenly amused. "I am reminded of the old puzzle over the chicken and the egg," she said. "I need to marry in order that we may make an easier entrГ©e into society. But you must agree, my lady, that I would need to be in society in order to find a husband." "Not necessarily," Lady Lyngate said. "Perhaps there is a prospective husband - an eminently eligible one - closer than you think." She did not elaborate but asked them if they had thought of sending to London for a lady's maid who could help them learn something of the newest fashions and who could dress them and style their hair more fashionably. She would be very willing to see to acquiring one on their behalf, she told them. "I would be very grateful," Margaret told her. "I have only to look at you and Miss Wallace to understand how much we have to learn." It was only later, when they had strolled out onto the terrace to look down at the formal gardens while waiting for the carriage to come up and Miss Wallace and the viscount to join their mother, that she said what perhaps she had been hinting at earlier. "Elliott has decided to take a bride this year," she said. "He will be a brilliant catch for any lady, of course. As well as the obvious attributes, he also has a loyal heart - even a loving one if he would but realize it. But the right woman will teach him to discover that. It is his intention - and my hope - to find a lady of character and principle.

Beauty and grace would not come amiss either, of course. Perhaps he will not have to look too far." She spoke with her eyes on the empty flower beds below, as if she were thinking aloud.

Vanessa was not the only one who read the unspoken message. The carriage departed a few minutes later, Viscount Lyngate riding beside it.

Katherine and Stephen walked off in the direction of the stables - they were going to ride into the village to visit the Graingers - leaving Vanessa and Margaret alone on the terrace. "Nessie," Margaret said after a few moments, when the clopping of the horses' hooves grew fainter, "was Lady Lyngate saying what I think she was saying?" "It would seem," Vanessa said, "that she is trying to arrange a match between you and her son." "But that is utterly absurd!" Margaret exclaimed. "It is not actually," Vanessa said. "He is of an age to look about him for a wife - all gentlemen of property must marry, you know, whatever their personal inclination might be. And you are eligible. Not only are you single and beautiful and refined, but you are also the sister of an earl and the very earl over whom he is guardian. What could be more convenient than for him to marry you?" "Convenient for /whom/?" Margaret asked. "And /he /is very eligible," Vanessa continued. "Just two weeks ago we were filled with awe just to know he was staying at the village inn and would be attending the assembly. He is titled and wealthy and young and handsome. And you yourself explained to Lady Lyngate the awkwardness of our situation, with no lady to introduce us to society." "And I would be able to do that for myself and for you and Kate if I were married?" Margaret asked, shivering and leading the way back toward the house. "Yes," Vanessa said. "I suppose you would. You would be presented at court as Lady Lyngate explained and then you might do as you pleased.

And Viscount Lyngate would be able to do all in his power for us without any appearance of impropriety. It would be entirely proper if he were your husband." For some reason it was a ghastly thought - Meg and Viscount Lyngate.

Vanessa tried to picture them together - at the altar during their nuptials, sitting on either side of a winter hearth in a domestic setting, and… No! She would not even try to picture /that/. She gave her head a little shake.

Margaret stopped beside the fountain. She set a hand on the edge of the stone basin, as if to steady herself. "Nessie," she said, "you cannot be serious." "The question is," Vanessa said, "whether /she /is serious. And whether she can persuade the viscount to be serious about it too." "But would she even have dropped that less-than-subtle hint," Margaret asked, "if he knew nothing about it? And why would she even have /thought /of such a thing if he had not somehow mentioned it to her as a possibility? She had never set eyes on us before this afternoon. Is it not likely that she came here today to take a look at his proposed bride? The fact that she said what she just did would surely indicate that she approves of his choice. But how /could /she? I look positively /rustic/. And how could /he /have considered such a thing? He has never given even the smallest indication that he is interested in making a match with me. Have I walked into some bizarre nightmare, Nessie?" Vanessa realized that Margaret must be right. Viscount Lyngate had known from the start that their coming to Warren Hall with Stephen was going to pose a problem. It was altogether possible that he had thought to solve at least part of the problem by marrying Margaret. And according to his mother he had already decided that he must marry this year. "But even if he offers," she said, "you can say no, Meg. Would you wish to, though?" "To say no?" Margaret frowned and said nothing for a long time. /…have I walked into some bizarre nightmare?/ "Is it Crispin?" Vanessa asked softly.

It was the first time his name had been spoken between them for a long, long time.

Margaret looked sharply at her and then away again, but not before Vanessa had seen tears well into her eyes. "Who?" Meg asked. "Do I know anyone of that name?" There was such pain and such bitterness in her voice that Vanessa could think of no answer to give. Obviously the questions were rhetorical anyway. "If I once did," Margaret said eventually, "I know him no longer." Vanessa swallowed. She felt close to tears herself. "If I were to marry," Margaret said, "/if /Viscount Lyngate were to ask, that is, I would be able to make life considerably easier for Kate, would I not? And for you. And for Stephen." "But you cannot marry just for our sakes," Vanessa said, aghast. "Why not?" Margaret looked at her with bleak, empty eyes. "I love you all. You are everything to me, the three of you. You are my reason for living." Vanessa was appalled. She had never heard Margaret speak with such despair before now. She was always calm and cheerful, the anchor upon whom they all depended. But then Vanessa had always known about her broken heart. She had just not had the imagination to understand quite how it had emptied out her sister's very soul. She /ought /to have understood. "But now your obligation to us has been considerably eased," she said. "Stephen is in a position to care for us and provide for us. All we need from you is your love, Meg - and your happiness. Do not do this. /Please./" Margaret smiled. "Such a Cheltenham tragedy," she said, "though we do not even know for sure that Lady Lyngate has picked me out as the viscount's prospective bride. We do not know how /he /feels about the idea, or even if it has occurred to him. How lowering now, Nessie, if he does /not /come here offering for me." She laughed lightly, but her eyes were still bleak.

As they made their way into the house and into the library, where the fire had been built up again and was giving off a welcome warmth, Vanessa felt a heavy sense of foreboding.

Crispin would surely never come for Margaret. But if she married Viscount Lyngate, entirely for the sake of her sisters and brother, life would lose all meaning for her. /They /were not Margaret's reason for living. /Hope /was that, even if it had all but been snuffed out over the four years of Crispin's absence.

Hope was what gave meaning to all lives.

Margaret could /not /be allowed to marry Viscount Lyngate. Perhaps he would not even offer, of course, but Vanessa was dreadfully afraid that he would. And if he did, she feared that Margaret would say yes.

Feared for Margaret's sake. /Only /Margaret's?

But the question, verbalized in her mind, took her by surprise and shook her somewhat. What possible personal objection could she have to his marrying Meg? Or anyone else for that matter? It was true that she had /almost /fallen in love with him at the Valentine's assembly, but even then she had realized that there was far more in him to repel her than there was to attract.

It just was not fair that he was so very, very good-looking.

But even if she /were /in love with him - which she certainly was not - she must surely be the very /last /woman he would ever think of marrying.

He must not be allowed to offer for Meg, though - she might accept him.

There must be a way of stopping him. She was just going to have to think what it was before it was too late, Vanessa decided.

Though she was already convinced that there /was /only one possible way.

An /impossible /way more like.