Bluestocking Bride (14 page)

"Lucy, how old
are
you?"

"Pray, what has that to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with what I am trying to say to you. You are so young, hardly more than a child, and I have not done right in engaging your affections."

"Engaging my affections? What an odious thing to say! What makes you think you have engaged my affections, sir?" The sparks fairly flashed from her eyes, and so novel was the experience of seeing his demure Lucy bristle in indignation, that Norton openly smiled. This did not endear him any the more to Lucy, who thought that it was ungentlemanly of him to begin with the state of her affections before he had declared his own.

"The reason I know that I have engaged your affections, you silly goose, is because I am so much older than you. I know the signs."

"What signs?" Her ire was roused now, and still the ignoble Mr. Norton had not mentioned the state of his own heart.

Her question recalled to his mind the enchanting rise and swell of her bosom when he had partnered her in the dance, her faint blushes and downcast eyes when she had found herself alone in his company, her eyes following him whenever he strayed from her side, and a thousand other telltale signs that assured him that the lady was not impervious to his charms.

"Never mind what signs," he replied rather uncomfortably. "I know, and that's that!" The interview was not going at all as Mr. Norton had rehearsed it, since Lucy was answering in an unpredictable way and completely throwing him off his stride.

"Lucy, I can't marry you, not yet. I have to give you time to grow up a little. When you have time to consider, you may not want to marry me at all."

"Have I asked you to marry me?" she demanded.

She blinked back her angry tears, willing them to disappear. Mr. Norton now saw his mistake in having contrived so serious an interview in such a carriage and without a groom, since he longed to take Lucy's hands in his, but was obliged to hang on to the ribbons.

"Darling Lucy, will you listen to me? I am not saying that we won't marry—only that we must wait a while. I must be quite sure that you know what you are about. You must know something of how I am fixed. I won't ask you to make so improvident a match until you have time to look around for a bit."

"Why are you telling me all this?"
She was sniffing into her handkerchief now, ashamed of the telltale tears that must confirm what he said he already knew. "You need not have brought me all the way out here just to humiliate me. Why tell me at all? You could have gone away without saying anything, and my feelings would have been spared."

"Go away without a word? When I have so shamelessly attached you to myself? That I could not do.

Besides Lucy, I want us to come to an understanding. I will wait for you, but you need not feel oblige to wait. If some other offer comes along, you are
free to accept it or reject it without reference to me."

"But Charles, none of this makes sense. Are you making me an offer or are you not?"

Mr. Norton could not fathom how his beloved could be so obtuse. In his own mind, everything was clear. "I am and I am not," he said decisively. "What I mean to say is, no—not for the present, but I will make you an offer when I think you are ready for it."

"And when will that be,
pray
?
In a year, two years, ten years?"

Mr. Norton had not gone so far in his own mind as to put the limit on the time needed for his beloved to come to a mature understanding of her own mind and situation, but he had never expected it to be as long as one whole year.

"Never mind how long."
His voice was gruff. "IH know when the time is right."

"And what do you expect to happen in that time, Charles? Is there to be a change in me?"

"You'll be older," he said reasonably.

"Oh, I shall certainly be older. Do you expect me to be wiser?" Mr. Norton began to think that the love of his life was deliberately misunderstanding him.

"Lucy, you know what I mean."

"Charles, did you know that my sister, Mary, was married when she was eighteen, and that she is soon to have her third child and is just past two and twenty? She knew her mind when she was eighteen just as she does now."

Perceiving himself to be on ground that was far from steady, Mr. Norton assumed his most authoritative voice and handed down his immutable decision.

"Lucy, I have no more to say. That is how it will be."

"Does this mean that I shall not see you again?" she barely managed, in a choked voice.

"I won't come calling as often as I have, but with Tom as my friend, and with your sister on the point of marrying my cousin, we are bound to be thrown into each other's company quite often."

"When Catherine marries your cousin? Pray tell me more. This is news to me."

"Well, I would have thought that it is obvious that he means to offer for her."

"Oh yes," said Lucy icily, "of that I am sure, but whether Catherine intends to accept him remains to be seen."

"Refuse
Rutherston
?
Why should she? When he's been the biggest prize in the Marriage Mart for the last ten years?"

"If he's been the biggest prize in the Marriage Mart, how is it that some girl hasn't snaffled him before now?" she snapped.

"Oh, he's been too sly for them. Besides, he's thirty now, and he promised his mama that he would marry when he reached his thirtieth year." Norton realized, too late, that he had spoken in an unguarded moment, and turned to Lucy in apprehension. "Lucy, forget that I said that. Richard would never forgive me for betraying his confidence. No one must ever hear of it."

Lucy's mouth hung open. "Charles, do you mean to say that he is offering for Catherine because he promised his mother that he would marry? If Catherine were to hear of it, she would never forgive
him,
never marry him, not even if he were the last man in the world."

"Of course, it doesn't mean that," snapped Norton, angry at himself, but somehow blaming Lucy
for
making him forgetful of his tongue. "He has the highest regard for her. It is simply a coincidence. Lucy, you must see that he is not offering for Catherine because of a stupid promise?" Lucy looked disbelieving.

"Do you really think that if he were to choose a wife rationally, with no thought of personal inclination, Catherine would be his first choice?" Personally, he thought that she would not be his second or third choice either, but he was not about to tell her sister so.

"I suppose not. But Charles, Catherine must never hear of this promise. It would mortify her to think
that. . ."

"She will never hear of it from me. And you, I know, will say nothing. So don't give it another thought. Now, can we return to the understanding that I wish to have established between us before I return you to Mount Street?"

"Oh, Charles," said Lucy sweetly, "I understand you perfectly, but you are far from understanding me." Charles glanced at her uneasily, but she now looked again the demure, compliant Miss Harland whom he had come to love, and he believed he was quite satisfied, and wondered at his own vague feeling of disquiet.

In the late afternoon, Catherine was called to the downstairs reception room to be introduced to some ladies who were wailing on her aunt. Lucy had left the house an hour earlier to go riding with Mr. Norton, and Catherine had set herself to writing some letters.

"Her ladyship says you are to come at once, miss, and not linger on any account!" Becky's voice was urgent as she conveyed her ladyship's message, and Catherine set aside her task to obey the
summons ;
without delay. She was met at the door by Lady Margaret, who beamed her pleasure, and taking
her ;
by the hand led Catherine to a lady who turned upon her the friendliest smile.

"May I present my niece, Miss Catherine Harland? Catherine, this is Lady
Rutherston
."

Catherine started visibly, then, recovering herself quickly,
curtsied
her acknowledgment.
"Ma'am."

"Miss Harland." The dowager marchioness bowed.

Catherine's thoughts were in a tumult, but she soon surmised that the insufferable marquis had sent his mother to look her over before his offer became irrevocable. The thought made her lift her chin in defiance.

"My daughter Jane, the Duchess of
Beaumain
."
The marchioness indicated the lady on her left.

"Your grace."
Catherine curtsied deeply.

"And I believe you know my niece, Lady
Arabella
."

"Catherine." The countess of Levin inclined her head and smiled. "I hope we may see you in Brook Street before long."

The marchioness extended her hand. "Come and sit by me, my dear. I should like to know you better." The words sounded ominous in Catherine's ears, and she began to wish that she had kept to her practice of fleeing the house every day. She took the chair next to the marchioness and tried not to stare.
Rutherston's
mother was not as she had imagined her to be. She was handsome, and in. many ways . . . her thoughts were interrupted.

"I see that you are as surprised as I." There was a touch of amusement in the marchioness's voice. "When I look at you, I am reminded of myself when I was your age. It is our coloring, I believe. I
am
deeply flattered to think . . . well never mind. Tell me about yourself, Catherine. Lady Margaret has told me that your home is in Breckenridge in Surrey."

It was the most difficult interview that Catherine had ever endured. Her ladyship and her grace, in the ordinary course of the conversation, drew Catherine out to talk about her home, her father's estate, her family and relations until Catherine was sure that her ladyship had calculated to a
sou
the extent of her father's income and had drawn an accurate picture of the family trees of her respective parents. It was not done to give offense; nevertheless, Catherine was deeply offended, and a spirit of recklessness took possession of her.

"You have nephews, I hear, Catherine? Children are such as pleasure, don't you agree?"

"I hardly know, ma'am. Naturally, I am fond of my nephews, but I'd just as soon be with my dogs."

The marchioness appeared to be taken aback by this reply, but put it down to mere nervousness on
the
part of the girl.

"Do you ride, Catherine? The
Fothervilles
are invariably accomplished equestrians."

"Oh, the
Fothervilles
would rather ride than anything!" interjected the duchess.

"And I would rather do anything than ride!" replied Catherine in dulcet tones.

Lady
Rutherston
began to wonder if Catherine
were
being deliberately rude, but she put the notion out of her mind. It did not seem likely that the girl would run the risk of ruining her chances with the son merely to spite the mother.

"Perhaps you play or sing?"

"Alas, no!" confessed Catherine, suppressing a feeling of guilt that was beginning to rise in her breast. She avoided the eyes of her aunt, who was perfectly aware that Catherine possessed a rich contralto. That lady sat rigidly in her chair.

"You must do something, Miss Harland?" The duchess's hearty voice grated on Catherine's ears.

Catherine appeared to give this last remark some thought. Then her face brightened.

"Papa says that I'm a dab hand at cards, and like to fritter away a husband's fortune with sheer recklessness. But of course, at home, we don't play for high stakes." The room froze to an arctic temperature.

The soothing voice of the countess of Levin now held sway. "Catherine is a debater, Aunt Olivia, a fencer with words. I have it on the best authority that no one crosses swords with her with impunity." The merry eyes of Lady
Arabella
looked warmly into Catherine's.

The marchioness considered the implications of Lady
Arabella's
statement. It was a moment or two before she spoke.

"A quick-witted girl?
A scholar?"

"I read, yes, ma'am."

"What then?
Romances?"

"A few . . . novels."

"And in particular?"

"In particular . . . plays." Catherine was not at all willing to betray to these ladies an interest she was sure they would despise.

"Shakespeare?"

"Yes . . . and Greek tragedy." She rushed the last words.

"Are you a classicist, Miss Harland?" The dowager marchioness did not appear to find this disclosure at all offensive, and Catherine took heart.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Extraordinary!" The marchioness smiled.
"And a girl with spunk, to boot."
And with that cryptic remark, the interview was at an end.

The marchioness rose to go. "I look forward to seeing you again, Catherine. Lady Margaret." She bowed and the ladies took their leave, but the countess contrived to whisper a few words in Catherine's ear before the door was shut upon them. She squeezed Catherine's hand, "Good, brave girl!"