Читать книгу A Most Unsuitable Bride - Gail Whitiker - Страница 7

‘O h, Diana, are you not thrilled at the prospect of being back in London?’ asked Miss Phoebe Lowden, her green eyes bright with excitement as she gazed at the bustling streets visible through the carriage window. ‘I spent only two months at Narbeth Hall, but they were the longest two months of my life! However do you manage to live there and find any degree of contentment at all?’

Miss Diana Hepworth, the lady to whom the question was put, and aware of the fervour with which it was asked, tried not to smile as she likewise studied the passing scenery. ‘Which would you have me answer first, Phoebe? How I feel about returning to a city where social interaction is considered second only to breathing? Or how I have managed to survive in a place where good company must surely provide the only relief in an existence otherwise too boring to speak of?’

The younger girl had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Forgive me, Diana, I did not mean to suggest that life in Whitley was totally without amusement. But neither does it offer the variety of entertainments, nor the type of people and conversation, you enjoy so much.’

‘What? You did not find Squire Hapston’s musings on thirteenth-century farming methods enlightening? Or Mrs Dawson’s views on the perils of educating females too much for fear of hindering their abilities to be dutiful wives and mothers illuminating? You surprise me, Phoebe. I have spent many a dull winter evening being entertained by such lively discourse,’ Diana said, trying not to smile.

‘Now you are teasing me, and it is not deserved, for we both know that you are far too intelligent to be amused by such insipid dialogue,’ Phoebe retorted. ‘You have never been one for dull talk or stupid companions, admit it!’

A slow smile lifted the corners of Diana’s mouth. ‘True, but not all of the residents of Whitley are dull or stupid, Phoebe. And, in case you’ve forgotten, Narbeth Hall is my home.’

‘Yes, but even Aunt Isabel says you should be spending part of the year in London,’ Phoebe said, refusing to be put off. ‘After all, you have already had the advantage of one London Season, yet you choose to remain buried in the depths of the country where you are forced to suffer the attention of gentlemen who would not even approach you in London. Why? Do you truly find life in town so distasteful?’

Comfortably settled against the squabs of the carriage, Diana paused to consider her answer. In truth, she was not terribly pleased about the prospect of returning to London. She had tried to affect an appearance of being so for Phoebe’s sake, but as the city drew nearer and the memory of her reasons for having left it returned, Diana was finding it an increasingly difficult charade to maintain.

‘I do not find all aspects of life in London distasteful,’ she said, deciding to be as tactful, but as honest as possible. ‘I enjoy many of the wonderful things it has to offer. Certainly our local productions cannot compare to the performances put on at Drury Lane, and our selection of shops is humble to say the least. But in other ways, I am content with country life. I have never cared for the congestion of town, and as tired as rural discourse may be, it is not always so inferior to what is to be had in London. You will find that out after spending a few tedious evenings in society. However, we are not here to talk about my reasons for wishing to remain in the country,’ Diana said, abruptly changing the topic of the conversation. ‘We are here to watch you take London by storm, and hopefully to see you engaged or married by the end of the Season.’

‘Oh, I would like that, Diana,’ Phoebe cried, clasping her hands together. ‘And to the most handsome gentleman in all London! But, in truth, I do not think I shall be taking anything or anyone by storm. There are so many beautiful ladies at court. All so accomplished and witty, and all so very good at flirting. I am sure I should stumble hopelessly over my words if a handsome gentleman were to approach me and try to engage me in conversation.’

‘Nonsense. It is no more difficult than talking to me. Besides, I doubt any gentleman will worry about what you say when you look at him with those beautiful green eyes. It’s probably just as well you did not spend any more time at Narbeth Hall,’ Diana said. ‘Thomas Stanhope was looking rather smitten with you, and you would certainly have been wasted on him.’

‘But so are you, don’t you see that? Oh, you must come about with me, Diana!’ Phoebe cried in frustration. ‘I know you would enjoy yourself, and I would certainly have a much better time if you were with me.’

‘And I’m flattered you feel that way, dearest, but that is not what we agreed to when I said I would come to London. I made it quite clear that I was coming in the capacity of a companion.’

‘Tosh! Aunt Isabel won’t hear of you being used in such a way. If anything, she is more likely to suggest that we both go out looking for husbands. Oh, I know you profess a disinterest in such things,’ Phoebe said as the familiar expression settled on Diana’s face, ‘but Aunt Isabel is right. You are far too lovely to sit at home, and you are much more adept at socialising than I. Why should you not go out and enjoy what London has to offer? Did you not say you had friends in town you wished to see again?’

Diana sighed. She did indeed have friends, but how was she to know if any of them wished to see her? Worse, how was she to tell Phoebe why they did not without getting into a lengthy and somewhat embarrassing explanation as to what had happened four years earlier to make it so?

The arrival of the carriage at their aunt’s house on George Street prevented Diana from having to come up with an answer, and in the flurry of activity that followed, the question was mercifully forgotten. Jiggins, their aunt’s long-standing butler, greeted them at the door and saw to the removal of their trunks and travelling garments, and moments later, Diana heard the sound of her aunt’s voice drifting down the stairs towards them.

‘Diana, Phoebe, is that you? Gracious, girls! I thought you would never arrive.”

Diana turned to greet her aunt, and was delighted to see her looking so well. For all her having just celebrated her fifty-third birthday, Mrs Isabel Mitchell was still a remarkably handsome woman. Her hair, once a bright blazing red, had mellowed to a warm shade of auburn, and her eyes, a shade paler green than Phoebe’s, still reflected a passion and enthusiasm for life that was so much a part of her personality. Indeed, time seem to have inflicted few of the infirmities so often visited upon women approaching their later years, and though Diana knew that her aunt occasionally suffered with pains in her legs, she nevertheless managed to attend most of the events deemed to be of particular social consequence. A widow for six years, she seldom wore bright colours any more, preferring the dignity of dark blue, lavender and occasionally deep maroon if the occasion warranted it. She referred to it as her cultivated attempt at staidness; something she feared she had been lacking most of her life.

‘Well, my dears, did you have a good journey?’ Mrs Mitchell asked, drawing them both into an affectionate embrace. ‘It is such a pretty drive from Whitley.’

‘We had a lovely trip, Aunt,’ Phoebe exclaimed. ‘But I am ever so glad to be here.’

‘Good, and now that you are, we must make ourselves comfortable. Come, there is a nice fire in the parlour. The day has turned unusually chill for April, has it not?’

Diana, who was indeed anxious to warm her hands, fell in beside her aunt while Phoebe trailed a few steps behind. ‘How is Chaucer, Aunt Isabel?’ she asked. ‘Is he here, or did you leave him in the country?’

‘Oh, he is definitely here, and well enough, though the wretched creature is never anxious to leave his bed,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘His old bones are no more immune to the cold than mine, But I dare say he will be happy to see you. In fact, I think I hear him scratching at the door. Stop it, Chaucer, or Jiggins will have your coat for a carriage rug!’

Diana bit back a smile. Chaucer was her aunt’s dog, and while he was a recognised member of the family above stairs, she doubted he was as warmly welcomed below. The younger maids were afraid of him, and the older ones complained about the amount of hair he shed. Jiggins simply ignored him, which was a considerable feat given that the hound more closely resembled a small pony than he did a diminutive lap dog.

‘Down, Chaucer!’ Mrs Mitchell scolded as she opened the door and the great beast lunged forward. ‘Have you no manners at all? Go and sit in your place and wait to be introduced.’

The chastised animal let go a muffled ‘whoof’, but wisely did as he was told.

‘That’s better. Now,’ Mrs Mitchell said to her nieces, ‘let me have a good look at you. My word, what elegant young ladies you have both become.’

Phoebe rolled her eyes. ‘I am the one who has become elegant, Aunt Isabel. Diana was already that way the last time you saw her.’

‘So she was, Phoebe, so she was. And you are, indeed, a good deal taller and prettier than I remember,’ Mrs Mitchell said, closing the door to the cosy, if somewhat overfurnished, room. ‘Well, let me see what you have learned. Walk the length of the room and back, there’s a good girl.’

Phoebe did as she was told, and duly earned her aunt’s nod of approval. ‘Excellent. I think your time at Mrs Harrison-Whyte’s Academy was exactly what you needed. Did you enjoy your studies there?’

‘I suppose, though I am very glad to be finished with schooling,” Phoebe said, sinking with an unladylike flounce into a deep rose armchair. ‘Most of the mistresses were exceedingly dour and we were kept to very strict schedules.’

‘Of course, dear, that is the nature of school. The question is, did you learn anything, since that was the reason for your being sent there in the first place.’

‘Mais, oui. Fait-il toujours aussi froid?’ the girl asked in perfectly accented French. ‘That means, is it usually this cold? As well, I am familiar with the teachings of the ancient Greek philosophers, and I can tell you without hesitation the location of Constantinople, the Cape of Good Hope, and many other equally exotic and intriguing places.’

‘Good Lord!’ Mrs Mitchell looked faintly shocked. ‘They’ve turned you into a bluestocking!’

‘Oh, no, never that, Aunt,’ Phoebe said, laughing. ‘Because I also learned how to paint and arrange flowers, how to manage a household, and how to engage in polite conversation with handsome young gentlemen, one of whom will hopefully wish to marry me.’

‘Well, I am relieved to hear that you do not intend to devote your life to bookish occupations,’ Mrs Mitchell said, sharing an amused glance with Diana. ‘But experiencing one’s first Season is always exciting, and you should plan on enjoying it to the fullest, since once you are married there will be all manner of other duties and obligations to which you will be forced to attend.’

‘And I shall enjoy every one of them because it means I shall also have a husband, and I am looking forward to that more than anything!’

Settled in her comfortable chair by the fire, Diana smiled, marvelling that only a few short years separated Phoebe’s age from hers. At times it seemed a great many more. She, too, had come to London in the hopes of finding the man of her dreams, and with a belief in her heart that life was going to be wonderful. But reality had painted a very different picture, and when Diana had returned to the country only three short months after she’d left it, it was with far more than her childhood dreams shattered.

She looked up to find her aunt’s watchful gaze upon her.

‘Phoebe, why don’t you run along to your room?’ Mrs Mitchell said quietly. ‘I’ve had it completely redone for you.’

Phoebe’s face brightened. ‘You have?’

‘Of course. You are a young woman now and must be treated like one. Grimshaw will take you up,’ Mrs Mitchell said as the housekeeper appeared at the door.

‘Thank you, Aunt Isabel,’ Phoebe cried, getting up and impulsively throwing her arms around the older woman’s neck. ‘Oh, I am so pleased to be back in London! I know we’re going to have the most marvellous time, in spite of Diana’s reluctance to be here!’

With that auspicious pronouncement, Phoebe turned and followed the housekeeper from the room. Mrs Mitchell watched her go, shaking her head as the sound of the girl’s chatter echoed all the way up the stairs. ‘Dear me, I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be so young. I vow the child has energy enough for two.’

‘Indeed she has, Aunt,’ Diana replied in a dry voice. ‘She has made me feel quite old and staid these last two months.’

Isabel Mitchell glanced at her favourite niece and her eyes softened. ‘There is nothing in the least staid about you, Diana, and at one and twenty, you are hardly old, but you do not look as cheery as I might have wished. Perhaps we can do something to put the sparkle back in your eyes, now that you are here again.’

‘Just spending time with you will do that,’ Diana said, smiling as she glanced around the room. ‘It seems such a long time since I was here.’

‘Four years is a long time when you’re young,’ her aunt agreed. ‘At my age, it is a mere blink of the eye. All right, Chaucer, you may go and make your greetings to Diana. But politely, mind.’

The wolfhound, which had been whimpering ever since being told to go to his bed, rose to his feet and slowly headed for Diana. He knew better than to jump on her, but he did rest his great head on her knee, his liquid brown eyes staring up at her with adoration.

Diana wondered how such a huge beast could be so daft.

‘Do you still spoil him outrageously?’ she said as she buried her fingers in the dog’s wiry hair.

‘Of course.’ Mrs Mitchell reached for the teapot. ‘We all deserve to be pampered in our twilight years. Tea?’

‘Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.’

Mrs Mitchell poured out two cups of tea and set one on the table before Diana. ‘But never mind that great brute, tell me how you really feel about being back in London. Phoebe seems to think you would rather not be here.’

Diana ran her hand thoughtfully over Chaucer’s head. ‘To tell the truth, I’m not sure how I feel. I had my fair share of doubts about coming, and there were times when I told myself I would not—’

‘But come you did.’

Diana grimaced. ‘Yes, due in large part to Phoebe plaguing the life out of me until I agreed.’

Mrs Mitchell laughed. ‘Well, if it is of any consolation, there are many in society who are anxious to see you again. I ran into Mrs Townley and her daughter last week, and you should have seen the look of delight on Amanda’s face when I told her you were coming to stay with me.’

At the mention of the young lady who had once been her closest friend, Diana’s expression brightened. ‘Did she look well?’

‘Very well. In fact, Amanda has changed considerably since you last saw her. I dare say you’ll be surprised when you see her again. But I was pleased to hear her express such enthusiasm at seeing you. Has there been any resumption of your correspondence?’

Diana shook her head as she reached for the china cup. She wasn’t surprised that her aunt had asked about it. Everyone knew that she and Amanda had once been the best of friends. Amanda was one of the few who hadn’t shunned Diana when news of her rift with Lord Durling had become public. She had even written to Diana for the first few months after her return to the country—until one day the letters had stopped coming and Diana had been forced to conclude that pressures had been brought to bear.

‘I read that Amanda is recently engaged,’ Diana said, keeping her voice light. ‘Has a date been set for the wedding?’

‘Yes, and Mrs Townley did tell me what it was, though for the life of me I can’t remember. One of the hazards of growing old, I’m afraid. Still, Amanda will be able to tell you herself when you see her.’

Diana looked up. ‘I am to see her?’

‘Indeed. Mrs Townley is holding a soirée this week, and when she learned that you and Phoebe were arriving today, she told me that I must be sure to bring you both. Speaking of engagements, did I mention that Sarah Harper married over the winter?’

Diana put down her cup. ‘Not as I recall.’

Mrs Mitchell tutted. ‘Of course not, you have only just arrived. Well, she is now the wife of Mr Anthony Jones-Davis. And Lady Margaret Bellows is to be married in the fall. She has much to recommend her, of course, but I did think her eldest sister would be settled first…’

Diana listened as her aunt told her which of her friends had married and which had not, and tried not to feel envious over the good fortune of the ones who had. After all, she had no reason to be jealous. She too had received a proposal of marriage during her first Season, and would have been a married lady now if all had gone according to plan. One in charge of a large house, and servants, and all the jewels and pretty gowns she could have wished for.

A married lady, Diana reflected sadly. But one blessed with questionable happiness, if any happiness at all…

‘Diana? Did you hear what I just said?’

Diana looked up to find her aunt’s sharp eyes on her, and felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘Forgive me, Aunt. I was lost in my thoughts.’

‘Yes, and I’m sure I know where those thoughts were taking you,’ Mrs Mitchell said kindly. ‘But do you still think so much about what happened, my dear? It has been over four years, after all.’

‘Yes, and I truly thought I had put it behind me, but now that I’m here…’ Diana stopped, and shook her head. ‘It’s funny, you know. In some ways, I feel as though what happened took place in another lifetime. And yet, in others, it’s as though it was yesterday.’ She looked at her aunt with troubled eyes. ‘Does that make any sense?’

‘Indeed. Adversity is a funny thing, Diana. It affects people in various ways, and it always changes them in one way or another.’

‘Did it change me?’

‘Most definitely. It made you stronger.’

‘I wonder.’ Diana took a sip of her tea, savouring the hot, fragrant brew. ‘Sometimes I think I should have just accepted matters and got on with my life. After all, there is no such thing as a perfect marriage. Perhaps I was naïve to think there was.’

‘Do you honestly believe that?’

Diana looked into her aunt’s eyes, and knew she couldn’t lie. ‘No.’

‘Good, because I would have been very disappointed if you had said yes. Marriage is about what two people bring to it, Diana,’ Mrs Mitchell told her. ‘And though no one is perfect, we usually strive to do the best we can. I know that’s what you would have done because you had your mother and father’s example to follow.’

Diana’s smile turned wistful. ‘I miss them so much, Aunt Isabel. At times, it feels like a physical pain. And yet, at other times I’m glad they’re not here. They would have been so hurt by what happened.’

‘Yes, but not for themselves. They would have suffered for you, and for all you were made to go through. But you conducted yourself with dignity and grace, and that is always the mark of a lady.’

Diana sighed. ‘Grace and dignity are all very well, Aunt, but what good do they do when one’s reputation is so hopelessly tarnished?’

‘What good? Why, they are priceless, child! Tarnished silver can always be made to shine again, but grace and dignity, once lost, are not so easily reclaimed.’

The analogy made Diana smile. ‘I fear there are many in society who will not expect me to shine again, no matter how thoroughly I am polished.’

‘Then we are not interested in them! Life is too short to worry about the feelings of those unwilling to forgive or forget, my dear. I know. I have encountered many such people during my life, and I haven’t shed a tear at seeing them on their way. Now, why don’t you run along upstairs?’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘You’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you will feel better for a rest. Dinner is not for another two hours so you’ve plenty of time to shake off the effects of your journey. I want to see some colour back in your cheeks.’

Diana smiled crookedly. ‘I dare say a rest before dinner would be welcome. I love Phoebe dearly, but her chatter can be wearing after a time. All right, Chaucer, it’s time to move,’ she said, giving him a gentle push.

Lifting his head, the hound gave her a doleful look, then slowly got up and padded back to his place by the fire.

Diana was almost at the door when Mrs Mitchell stopped her with a question. ‘Have you told Phoebe what happened four years ago?’

Though half-expecting the question, Diana sighed. ‘I didn’t have the heart to. She’s always been so excited about the idea of falling in love and getting married, I didn’t want to sound as though I was warning her away from it. But I have thought about how she would feel if she were to hear anything of a distressing nature.’

‘Well, we can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Since you were not willing to tell anyone what really happened between you and Lord Durling, people were left to believe what he told them—that you jilted him. As such, the simple fact of your being in London now may be all that is required to start them talking again. That doesn’t mean Phoebe will be exposed to it, of course, and given that one of us will likely be with her when she does go out, we should be able to prevent her hearing anything untoward. But we cannot guarantee that something won’t slip through.’

‘Are you saying I should say something to her?’

‘I’m saying we should probably wait and see. Most people will assume that Phoebe already knows what happened, and since the true pleasure of gossip lies in the telling of it to someone who isn’t acquainted with it, they may not waste their breath. However, if it does come up, I have no doubt Phoebe will come to you for the truth. You can make up your mind then as to whether or not you wish to tell her.’

It seemed a logical solution, and Diana accepted it as such. But close on the heels of that came another question. ‘Do you think Lord Durling knows I’m back in London?’

‘Oh, Diana.’ It was her aunt’s turn to sigh. ‘I think it would be naïve of us to believe that he isn’t aware. He’s far too well connected for matters like that to escape his notice.’

Diana nodded. Of course Lord Durling would know she was back, it was foolish of her to have thought otherwise. But she’d had to ask. She had to know if the lies Lord Durling had told about her four years ago were still the stories society believed today. She had to know if she was still thought of as the heartless schemer who had jilted her fiancé for the worst of reasons, and on the very day before they were to have been wed!