Chapter Seven
Livy
Mr. Bane Sanderson was a provoking creature. “Not all husbands are tyrants,” he’d said when he’d folded his large frame into the chair beside her.
Obviously true. The bakery they patronized in Liverpool was owned by a happy couple. The husband ran to the shop that sold the baked goods his wife made. Each depended on the other and each respected the skills of the other. “Perhaps it is just gentlemen who make bad husbands, then,” Livy replied.
“And you know a vast number of couples in the gentry and aristocracy?” Bane asked. He sounded serious and sincere, but the twinkle in his eyes confirmed it was a sarcastic question.
“Enough,” she replied. Barely any, to tell the truth. But she had read the newspapers and listened to scandalous gossip. “My aunt says that one must expect husbands to stray, and that gentlemen are expected to be idle. Apparently, Jasper agrees with her.”
“I agree your cousin would make a bad husband.” Bane smirked. “Unless he grows up a bit, which is unlikely if his mother encourages him.”
Bane was not saying anything Livy hadn’t thought, but she was annoyed at the criticism. “He became viscount when he was only sixteen,” she explained. “It must have been difficult for him.” That, at least, was what Aunt Ginny said.
“More difficult still for his mother,” he retorted. “Unless her husband was a tyrant? I daresay being a widow is preferable, in that case. You should add that to your options. Marry someone rich with one foot in the grave and look forward to being a wealthy widow.”
“Risky,” she responded. “With a young woman as his bride, he might rally. And she might have to wait another five years or longer to enjoy the fruits of her sacrifice.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “Though at least that would give her time to provide Lord Senescence with some children for her to enjoy once she is living in blessed widowhood.”
“What if he is cruel, as well as a tyrant?” Livy wondered. “Those five years would be interminable.”
“It might have been fifteen years. But let us be optimistic and imagine our imaginary bride knew a little bit about herb craft, and managed to introduce hemlock into the warm milk he drank before bed every night, even on the nights he came to perform his marital duty, despite her complaining it made his breath smell like the rancid effusions of an old goat.”
Livy chuckled. “Why, Mr. Sanderson. Are you advocating murder as a remedy to a bad marriage?”
“A rather permanent one, and far easier than divorce,” Bane declared. “With an old man, and his wife a virtuous lady known for her mild temperament and generous heart, no one is likely to disbelieve her account of things.”
“True enough,” Livy acknowledged. “You have convinced me, sir. I shall add the option of a wealthy old man and early widowhood.”
“Now, if it was you and me, the matter would be different,” Bane said. “I being a young man in robust health, and you being known as a lady of fixed opinions who does not suffer fools at all, let alone gladly. If you marry me and then poison me, Miss Wintergreen, do not expect to get away with it.”
“Since I do not intend to marry at all,” Livy retorted, “you are safe, Mr. Sanderson.”
“Perhaps I do not wish to be safe, Miss Wintergreen.”
Aunt Ginny suddenly seemed to recall their existence. “Livy, Cilla. Come and speak with Lord Curston and Mr. Curston, my dears.
“We must be going, before we outstay our welcome,” Bane murmured to his brother Drake.
“If Bane and I asked your aunt for permission to take the pair of you walking in Hyde Park tomorrow, would you be willing?” Drake asked Cilla.
“Yes,” she said. “Livy?”
The urge to say an enthusiastic “yes” was so disturbing that Livy nearly said “no,” but the outing was what Cilla wanted, so Livy curbed her reaction. “If you wish it,” she said, instead.
Drake bowed courteously to Aunt Ginny, put his proposed excursion to her, and asked her approval, all while Bane looked on.
Aunt Ginny frowned as she thought. “Very well,” she said, at last. “I can see no objection, provided you escort all five of my charges, and that you remain as a group throughout the entire outing.”
The brothers bowed their thanks, arranged a time, and left. The room seemed duller and smaller without Bane in it. How ridiculous of her to feel that way!
The company was certainly not as stimulating. Mr. Curston paid her a few compliments which sounded as if he had found them in a book, since no one in their right mind would have applied them to Livy. Shy flower from the countryside, indeed! Was the man blind?
But no, for his eyes were working perfectly well when he leered at her chest. Indeed, she didn’t think he looked above her neckline once while he spoke to her.
After the Curstons left, they entertained a succession of other visitors, but not one had anything to say that was of interest to Livy. It was all fashion, people Livy didn’t know, and horses. Livy couldn’t contribute, so she sat and finished her reticule and thought about Bane Sanderson.
What was it about the annoying man? He was, beyond a doubt, an imposing person, with his height, his broad shoulders, his slightly aloof air.
He tended to leave his brother to do the talking, but when he spoke, he made sense.
Or clever nonsense, as he had during their verbal jousting that afternoon.
Why did he wear that hood? Was it just to increase the sense of mystery?
Or to cover the scar she had seen that morning at the inn?
It was just a scar, though. Nothing for him to be ashamed of.
According to the women she’d met on Misrule Night, he had arrived at the Sanderson home in Marpleton with a wounded and infected cheek, close to death.
Even once he was past the crisis, he had not been expected to keep the sight in his eye.
Once he was well enough to move about the house, his father’s wife had insisted on him wearing a hood to hide his face. Perhaps it had become a habit.
Cilla nudged her, and Livy became aware that all the guests had left, and Aunt Ginny was talking.
“I am cautiously pleased, my dears,” she was saying.
“You will note it was mainly my friends and their children this time. Word will get out, and we may expect to find others leaving their cards in the coming weeks. We shall, of course, be making calls ourselves now that we have wardrobes fit for the purpose.”
She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and took a sip.
“You behaved very well, though Olivia, I will thank you to ignore Jasper when he is being provocative. I do not know precisely what he said—” she put up a hand to forestall Livy, who had been about to tell her—“and I do not wish to know. A lady does not lose her temper in public.”
She gave a decisive nod, as if she vigorously agreed with herself.
“Cilla and Livy, I noticed that you showed unusual favor to the Sanderson brothers, speaking with them for several minutes. It will not do, girls. I grant you, they are attractive and personable young men, but not well-born. Not at all.”
Livy managed to stop the angry words that sprang to her lips, but before she thought of a politer way to make her point, Cilla forestalled her.
“The Sanderson brothers came to speak with us, Aunt Ginny, which none of the other young men did. It would have been rude of us to snub them.”
Exactly! Well said, Cilla.
“The other young men do not know you, Lucilla. Their reticence is merely because they have not yet learned your family history and the size of your dowry. Once they know you are worth pursuing, they shall definitely seek you out.”
How cold! How… self-seeking.
“I hesitated to agree to your excursion tomorrow afternoon, because it cannot be good for the pair of you, situated as you are, to be seen accepting the courtship of two young men such as Bane and Drake Sanderson. And yet, if I had turned them down in front of our other visitors, I would be making a public show of their unworthiness to woo my nieces.”
“But you do believe them to be unworthy,” Livy said.
“Not in themselves, Olivia. I judge them to be fine young men. But an alliance with them will not enhance the family’s reputation, and may—I am sorry, my dears, but it is the truth—may damage the chances of your cousins making an eligible match.”
“I am sure Society will forgive you when you disown us, Aunt Ginny.” Oops. Livy had not intended to say that out loud.
“That is another thing, Olivia,” said Aunt Ginny.
“What might be considered wit in a man is unbecoming in a young lady. When I disown you, indeed. Did I disown your father? No, I did not. And even Lord Marple accepted I was right to maintain the connection, and to accept Horace’s gifts when the harvest did not go as one would wish.
But that is quite beside the point. You, yourself, told me that you do not have a partiality for either of the Sandersons.
I trust you are not about to change your answer, so the occasion for being disowned does not arise. ”
“Livy was only funning you, Aunt Ginny,” Cilla said. “You know how she is.”
“Livy would do better to treat this as the serious business it is. Girls, your whole future may well be decided in the next few months. I expect all five of you to give careful thought to each eligible young man who presents himself.”
She shifted slightly to straighten, and began counting characteristics on her fingers, as she gave them what they had privately agreed to call, The Husband Lecture. “Is he well-born? Is he kind and respectful? Does he have a healthy income? Does he have a title, or is he in line for one?”
By now, all five of them could repeat it word for word.
“You are choosing a husband, girls, so temperament is paramount. Is he quick-tempered or sanguine? Is he serious or frivolous? As your parents, my brother and I shall investigate to see whether we believe you will be safe with him, and you can rely on our advice.”
“Jasper says we are not to cast our eye on any of his friends,” Ruby offered.
“I should think not, indeed. Those young men may think they are adults, but they are not ready to settle down, Ruby,” Aunt Ginny agreed. “But it was nice of Jasper to bring his friend to our at home, was it not? That boy has a good heart.”
If so, Livy had seen no sign of it, but perhaps she should reserve judgement.
Seven young men in total had entered the parlor this afternoon.
Jasper and his friend were off the table, which left five.
If she was going to listen to Aunt Ginny, Livy must also discount the Sanderson brothers, and the remaining three were, in order of appearance unspeakably arrogant, sadly foolish, and ridiculously inept.
Truly, Mr. Bane Sanderson was the only interesting man of the lot, though Cilla seemed partial to Mr. Drake Sanderson. If the five other men were a fair sample of what the ton had to offer, thank goodness Livy had already made up her mind not to marry.