Anna Jacobs (13 page)

Johanna leaned forward eagerly. “No! Did she look upset?”

“Yes. For a minute or two, anyway. Then s he turned away and didn’t look across at him again.”

“Hmm. That sounds promising. I wish I’d seen it myself. But I’d better not say anything to my mother yet. You know what she’s like once she gets an idea into her head. I wouldn’t put it past her to summon Justin down to Satherby and ask him his intentions - and that would drive him right away.”

They both chuckled at the thought.

So although Johanna duly reported in her letters to her mother that one or two gentlemen were making a little progress with Bea, she didn’t mention Serle.

As the days passed, Lady Marguerite Graceover’s letters to her daughter became more and more querulous in tone and she complained bitterly about the delays in settling what was surely a very straightforward matter. Mama, Johanna told her daughter, always did expect people to obey her orders in an unreasonably short time.

In her response Johanna suggested that her mother consider extending the list of eligibles, which was very restricted. Why, Johanna could think of several gentlemen who might well be worthy of consideration for Eleanor. She mentioned one or two names as examples.

She received a stinging reply commanding her to do as she had promised and ordering her not to interfere with Beatrice’s instructions. The Dowager was only interested in persons of rank and breeding for her granddaughter and niece, thank you very much!

After two more weeks had passed without any progress being made, Lady Marguerite wrote a very sharp letter to Bea that had her drooping all day. Guilt overwhelmed her. She had let her aunt down badly. But try as she might, she couldn’t see any of the gentlemen she had met making good husbands for Eleanor.

By the evening of that day Johanna could stand it no longer. She sat her cousin down for a frank talk. “You mustn’t let Mama bully you like this, Bea. She means well, but you know what she’s like.”

“She has a right to complain. I’ve been neglecting my duty quite shamefully and looking only to enjoy myself. I must stop going to so many concerts and - and...” Her voice faltered.

“You can’t do much more than you are doing,” Johanna pointed out reasonably. “You’ve met most of the people on that list who are up in town this season.”

“I must do more!” Bea went up to her room and wrote an extremely detailed report on those gentlemen she had met so far and sent it off the next day to her grandmother.

When she received the report, the Dowager thumped her stick on the floor in rage and demanded of heaven why she was saddled with such feeble-witted descendants.

“Is something wrong with Miss Dencey?” her ladyship’s maid ventured to ask.

“Yes. She’s turned into a timid, romantic nincompoop! Look at that!” She waved the letter in the air. “She don’t think any of them are suitable for Eleanor, and on the most ridiculous of grounds. Too stupid. Too reckless. Not kind enough. Not kind enough! What does she think we’re looking for - a saint? They’re men of breeding, ain’t they? Some of them must be presentable!”

Lippings knew better than to respond and merely stood attentively beside her mistress as the tirade continued.

After a sleepless night, Lady Marguerite decided not to take issue with Bea again about her failure to nominate some suitable candidates for Eleanor’s hand. “However,” she told her maid grimly, “if things don’t improve soon, I shall take matters into my own hands. I am not yet too old or too decrepit to manage my family’s affairs, and so they will find out.”

Chapter 7

Johanna continued to puzzle over Bea’s future while the pair of them worked their way through the rest of the eligibles on the list. It wasn’t hard for Johanna to ensure that Bea got to meet and inspect all the unattached scions of those particular lines who were presently in town. Some of them, she warned, were quite young gentlemen, some of them not so young. The Dowager’s instructions specified that all unmarried males up to the age of forty were to be considered in those families of whom she approved.

“Does Mama honestly expect,” Johanna asked in frustration, “that a girl as young as Eleanor will even consider marrying a man of thirty or older?”

“She expects everyone in her household to do exactly as she tells them, whether it’s reasonable or not. But I don’t think Eleanor will obey meekly in something as important as this,” Beatrice said thoughtfully. “She tries to avoid clashes with my aunt, but they’re very alike and she has a will of her own.”

From then onwards, the two ladies sat down after each meeting with a new gentleman from the list and compared notes in a way which would have horrified most of the young bloods concerned. Beatrice, unwilling to discuss her own suitors, was happy to discuss at length those who were under consideration for Eleanor. She set ridiculously high standards, though, in Johanna’s opinion, and to make matters worse, she was more concerned with the gentlemen’s personal qualities than with their station in life and their fortunes.

“What about young Lord Haroldby? He’s certainly not ill-favoured and will come into a very respectable fortune when he inherits,” Johanna asked one day, feeling that the latest candidate had been better than most.

“Young Lord Haroldby,” declared Beatrice, lips curling scornfully, “is far too daredevil in his ways and will undoubtedly kill himself within the year. Did you see that horse he was riding in the park yesterday?”

“Well - “

“And someone told me that he’s ready to accept any wager, any wager at all, and even makes it a point of honour to do so, however ridiculous the bet.”

“Well, most young gentlemen are like that. He’ll settle down once he’s married.”

“I have no wish to see my dearest Eleanor widowed young. A man like that won’t do for her at all.”

Johanna rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, but didn’t waste her time arguing this point. “What about the Barrowdene heir, then?” Johanna asked, reaching for an apple tartlet. “He’s rather handsome, don’t you think?”

“If you like that sort of pale good looks. He’s aping Lord Byron in his mannerisms and he’s far too moody. That would never do for dear Eleanor. She’s the most affectionate, sunny-natured person in all creation, and his moods would drive her to distraction in a fortnight.” She saw Johanna begin to open her mouth and said savagely, “And if you’re going to ask about the Honorable Fergus Kitsby, I have to tell you that I’ve never been so disappointed in anyone in all my life.”

Johanna could only sigh. The Honorable in question was making more than one young debutante act in a foolish way and dampen her pillow with fruitless yearning. “He’s thought to be very stylish,” she ventured.

“When seen at a distance on the dance floor or at the theatre, perhaps.”

“And his smile is - “

“Is pleasant enough, I will admit, but that makes it all the worse when you find out that he has shockingly bad breath. He must eat nothing but onions! And,” she paused before revealing the most dreadful tidings of all, “he not only wears padded shoulders, but also a padded chestpiece to his coats.”

“It’s all the crack for gentlemen to have a broad silhouette!”

Beatrice was not to be moved. “Falsity is a thing which I have always abhorred.” The padded chestpiece had been the final straw in a long list of disappointments. She could just imagine what her aunt would say about that!

“You’re far too demanding, my dear. You really can’t condemn a man because he wears padding! He’s only following fashion, after all.”

“Well, I find I don’t care for that particular fashion. And anyway, I think that amount of padding reflects a deviousness of spirit. I care too much about Eleanor’s happiness to entrust her to a man who presents a false appearance to the world. Who knows what lies and deceits he would practice upon her after they were married!”

Beatrice was looking so desperately worried that Johanna was moved to cross the room and hug her. “Look, love, forget about Eleanor for a while! Let’s turn our thoughts to your own future. You’re also here to find a husband for yourself and you’ll never have a better opportunity than this season.”

Beatrice shook her head, lips tightly pursed. “I don’t matter half as much. There’s plenty of time for me to find myself a husband later if I so choose. And I do keep it in mind, I assure you. I’ve already come to the conclusion that I’d prefer to marry someone who lives mainly in the country. That’s enough progress for now.”

She fiddled with a fold of her skirt and added, “I know you think I’m being over-fussy, but your mother is very concerned about Eleanor’s future, and it’s not good for her to worry so. I just can’t settle to thinking of myself until I’ve sorted something out for Eleanor. I promised Aunt Marguerite faithfully that I wouldn’t fail her in this.”

She hadn’t told her cousin that the Dowager’s health was deteriorating fast, and this omission was preying on her conscience, for it never seemed to occur to Johanna that anything could happen to her mother.

A spirit of mischief made Johanna say, “Then it must be Justin Serle, after all, Bea! His cousin is his heir now that his brother’s dead, and Luke Serle is a gambler and reprobate. I never thought to see Serle brought to the altar, but Luke’s going to do it if he goes on like this.”

Beatrice tried to think of some other subject of conversation.

“I wonder whom Serle will choose,” Johanna continued.

“Choose?” exclaimed Beatrice, in tones of great disgust. “Choose! You speak as though he had only to signal and any woman would come running!”

“Well, he is very eligible, you know, not to mention handsome. He’s been much sought after for years.”

“Handsome is not everything!” declared Beatrice, nose in the air. “Mr Serle is not as arrogant or trivial-minded as I had thought at first, I will admit, but although he may not be a dandy, he does spend a lot of time on his appearance and his conversation is frequently very frivolous. I cannot approve of that.” Or so she tried to tell herself whenever she found herself thinking about him.

“My dear, what do you expect him to talk about at social gatherings? Riots and mayhem?” Johanna was watching her closely. “I like Justin. I’m sure he’d make an excellent husband for Eleanor. He’s always very pleasant company and you must admit he’s an exquisite dancer.”

Beatrice couldn’t disagree with that. She’d had the pleasure of dancing with Mr Serle at many functions and found him the perfect partner. Their steps matched so well she didn’t have to think what she was doing, but could float away on the music. She did not, however, intend to admit that to Johanna. “Well, I think a man of his station and wealth ought to set a better example than he does! Fancy being famous for the way you tie your cravat! Or for the horses you drive! A man should stand on his own merit, not that of his animals! And him a great landowner, too! He should spend more time thinking about his tenants and about - about agriculture!”

“Oh, pooh! Agriculture! Who cares about things like that when one is in London? Agriculture is a topic only suitable for the country, and then in very small doses. The land he owns may be what makes Justin Serle so eligible, but to be prosing on about turnips would make him the greatest bore in town!”

Beatrice resolutely held her tongue.

“Anyway,” Johanna continued airily, “Boris tells me Serle is seriously looking for a wife, so I can’t help being interested in whom he’ll choose. He’s been impervious to a whole series of beauties who’ve set their caps at him over the years.” She looked sideways at Beatrice and asked casually, “What do you say to the Metterleigh heiress? She might do for him, don’t you think?”

“Her! I never met such an empty-headed featherbrain in all my life! She hasn’t got an idea in her head, apart from clothes and dancing. Even Mr Serle would not choose someone like her!” Eleanor sighed and added half to herself, “Though I dare say he’ll choose someone just as frivolous and they’ll spend their time discussing clothes and the latest gossip and how to tie cravats!”

“You’re very scathing. Don’t you like Justin?”

“Oh, he’s pleasant enough,” Beatrice was avoiding Johanna’s laughing, knowing eyes, “and my aunt thinks a great deal of the family, but well,” her fingers were fiddling with a ribbon now, “there’s not enough substance to him. Though I do owe him a debt of gratitude for saving me from those men, and I try not to forget it. But I couldn’t think a man like him right for Eleanor, whatever you say. And I couldn’t marry a man like him myself!”

She tossed her head at the mere idea, which no one had raised but herself, then changed the subject hurriedly. “Did I tell you how well poor Tom is doing? He’s found himself some more respectable lodgings and his cough’s completely gone.”

Johanna raised her eyes to heaven and let the question of matrimony drop. She’d come to the conclusion that her cousin Beatrice, for all her sweet biddable ways, was as stubborn as the Dowager underneath.

* * * *

After a few fruitless weeks, they had to take Jennice, who was still staying with her mother in town, more fully into their confidence. She entered into the search with real enthusiasm, for it was just the sort of thing she enjoyed. She was in blooming health, but was beginning to show her condition, so was making the most of what she called her “last weeks of freedom” by indulging in a frenetic round of social engagements and shopping. Her only concession to Boris’s worries about the baby was to take a nap every afternoon. And that, she confided in her mother with a grimace, was only because she really did feel sleepy.

Jennice studied the Dowager’s list carefully, for naturally she knew all the families on it. “Hmm,” she said after a while, “Grandmamma is very choosy, isn’t she? I can think of a dozen other gentlemen I’d have considered eligible - and several of them have nice juicy fortunes - yet they’re not on her list. And why on earth have you crossed Justin’s name off, Bea? You can’t accuse him of being too fat or of having a sniff, and he certainly doesn’t pad his coats! Why, he’s easily the most eligible bachelor in town!”

She leaned back and smiled reminiscently. “I did consider him for myself at one time, you know, but I decided he’d be too hard to manage. My dear Boris suits me much better - though even he’s getting a bit troublesome since we started having the baby!” She shook her head and repeated in puzzlement, “Why did you cross Justin’s name off, Bea?”