Chapter 2 #4
There was the attraction of a position in society and a comfortable life, especially when she would be unencumbered by her traveling husband.
If there was a child, it would have its rights.
A major disadvantage did occur to her. She supposed her husband might want his rights, too, on the rare occasions when he was present.
Eleanor had come too far in her mind to balk at that. She liked children, and even if she was already with child she supposed she could allow him, occasionally, and so provide for more offspring in the future. It was an unpleasant business, but she could endure it now and then as women must.
She searched her mind for any information about Nicholas Delaney from her country life, when the local aristocracy, especially the Delaneys of Grattingley, had been a chief source of gossip. There were only scraps.
She thought she might have visited Grattingley with her parents once as a child but had little recollection other than of magnificent fountains. She remembered hearing of old Lord Stainbridge’s death and snippets about the two sons. The new earl was well-liked but…
She struggled to pin down errant memories. There had been a different tone when people spoke of the younger brother.
Suddenly, clearly, she could hear Mrs. Baxter, the doctor’s wife saying, “What a rascal!” But it was the tone. Admiring, perhaps. And Mrs. Baxter was a worthy woman. Perhaps she had been speaking of someone else after all.
Ah, well. Eleanor would learn about him in time. She assured herself he could not be worse than her brother or Lord Deveril, so the change was bound to be for the better, especially as she now had the powerful earl to protect her.
When Lord Stainbridge visited that afternoon he seemed slightly revolted to find his “damsel in distress” licking the cream from a cake off her lips and in excellent spirits.
“I assume you are no longer contemplating a watery grave, Miss Chivenham.”
“Well, life is sweet, my lord,” she replied, determined to face her trials with good humor.
He stared at her. “Of course, of course … And I am delighted you are recovered.” He did not look it. “Shall we discuss your future now?”
“I am happy to do so,” Eleanor said and disposed herself comfortably in a chair. She didn’t understand the earl at all. She would have thought her composure a great relief to him.
He paced the room fretfully. “Have you considered my offer, Miss Chivenham?”
“I have, my lord. If you still think it can be managed, I will marry your brother.”
He stopped, surprised but relieved. His manner immediately became easier.
“It will be for the best,” he assured her.
“You will see. As I said, Nicholas has been willing to marry for some time for the sake of the succession. He didn’t want to get into the marriage mart, however, or shackle himself to a woman who would want him to be forever at home.
As I said, he likes to wander. This arrangement will suit him admirably.
You will make no demands on him for excessive devotion. ”
“Certainly not,” Eleanor said sharply, unreasonably piqued by this pragmatic approach to matrimony.
“Excellent.” He actually rubbed his hands together.
“I will send a message to Nicholas instructing him to arrive in Newhaven in eighteen days’ time, weather permitting.
We will meet him and you can marry there by special license.
But, as I said, we will give it out that you are already married in Paris. ”
Eleanor realized she was not going to brush through this affair in total honesty, but she agreed to the plan, only voicing one concern. “None of this will hold water, my lord, if it is queried.”
“Why should it be queried?” he asked, with aristocratic arrogance.
“If you are thinking of your brother, once you are a member of my family he will think better of interfering, I assure you. As for society at large, Nicky is known for his unpredictability. No one will be surprised at another of his mad starts.”
Eleanor was taken aback. Was the younger Delaney unbalanced? Perhaps even at this stage she should change her mind. She had always been taken to task for her rashness. Was she again going to plunge into trouble because of it?
Lord Stainbridge, however, was smiling his satisfaction and did not seem to notice her doubts. He took her hand in both of his. “Now,” he said with great geniality, “may I be permitted to call you Eleanor, as we are to be related?”
Eleanor agreed to this and allowed a wave of his polite social conversation to wash over her as she thought. Then she tried for some reassurance about her husband-to-be.
“Mr. Delaney must be very like you, my lord, as you are identical twins.”
“It is not quite so,” he said. “We change as we grow, Eleanor. Sometimes I think Nicholas and I were made as two sides of a coin. He is active, I am artistic. He is outgoing, I prefer a quiet life. I seek order, he seeks adventure. He lives for excitement and can be a careless of whom he hurts—”
He broke off. Eleanor recognized the hurt in him but was more concerned with the implications for herself. A black sheep, she confirmed with dismay. A rake. Not the comfortable helpmeet she longed for. But at least he would be only an occasional presence in her life.
Lord Stainbridge collected himself and noticed her doubts. He hastened to reassure her. “Nicholas is at heart very kind, my dear. He is gifted and charming and,” he added a little awkwardly, “experienced in the ways of women.”
Eleanor remembered the gasping monster who seemed less and less real as time went by and wondered. The man had, however, been drunk. Men were not themselves when in their cups.
She remembered a tenant farmer who always seemed a kindly man until he drank, and then he took a strap to his wife.
That was a husband’s right and not a reassuring thought.
Her nerve almost failed her, but she braced herself.
When her husband was at home she would just have to watch the brandy bottle and trust Lord Stainbridge to be her protector.
When his brother’s message reached Nicholas Delaney in Paris he might well have been living up to Eleanor’s fears.
He was the worse for a number of bottles of wine and dicing with a similarly affected motley crowd at the Mouton Gris.
His sun-bleached hair was ruffled, and his once-elegant cravat had been loosened in the warmth of the crowded room.
When his brother’s groom found him, however, he looked up with a smile on his handsome face, and there was hardly a trace of slur in his voice as he spoke. “Hodges! What brings you here?” It was perhaps the drink that delayed concern until the end of the question.
“Never fear, Master Nick. The earl’s fine. There’s no trouble that I know of, but he wanted you to have this sharp like.”
Nicholas took the bulky letter, arranged for the groom’s comfort, and then excused himself from his friends. Hodges might not know of any trouble, but he knew there must be something afoot.
Nicholas regularly sent letters home to keep his brother acquainted with his location, but only twice had his brother sent a missive to find him in his wanderings.
Once had been to announce his wedding, for which Nicholas had managed to return.
The second had been to announce the death of his wife and child.
Nicholas had returned as quickly as possible but had not reached his twin until two months after the event.
In fact, he had known without asking Hodges that Kit was healthy. They always knew of physical problems with one another, as twins will.
In his room he broke the seal and began to read.
Dear Nicky,
I must ask you to return to England as quickly as possible.
You did say last time you were home, that you would marry could I find you a suitable woman, one who would not bore you with inanities or expect you to dance attendance on her.
Well, I have done so. Eleanor Chivenham has all the qualities you would wish for, I am sure.
You may remember the family. They lived at Chivenham Hall, near Burton Magna, not far from Grattingley, though the estate has been sold by her brother, who is inclined to extravagance.
Nicholas knew rather more than that about Lionel Chivenham and wondered what the hell his brother was about trying to ally them with such an unpleasant specimen.
The fact of the matter is that Eleanor Chivenham is in a rather difficult position, having lost her virtue while living in her brother’s house. (That’s no surprise, Nicholas thought.) The problem is that I seem to have been responsible.
Nicholas had to stop and read that part again. He was beginning to recognize the rambling style that was characteristic of his brother in deep trouble, looking to him to find a way out. It was just that this particular trouble seemed unbelievable.
I am not quite sure how it came about, Nicky, but they got me to Chivenham’s house, and with the wine and, I suspect, something else, I wasn’t able to refuse when they suggested I take the woman. There were certain doubts cast upon my inclinations. But I didn’t know it was his sister.
Then the next day I was only just in time to stop her from killing herself, so I am looking after her for you. (Nicholas sighed.)
You know I can’t marry her myself, but you won’t mind, and women always seem to like your company.
She was a virgin, Nicky. Besides, if she is unmarried, she will be in danger from her brother or Lord Deveril, who appears to want to marry her.
You will be able to handle them. And there’s the possibility of a child, who would, after all, be a Delaney.
I really think it is essential that you marry her, and I am sorry to have to say this, but I will cut off your allowance completely if you do not comply.
The honor of our house is at stake. If you can be at Newhaven on the 29th or thereabouts we will meet you there, and the ceremony can take place quietly but immediately.
I have already inserted a notice to the effect that you have married in France, in case there should be a child, you see.
So don’t be seen about too much without her, if you see what I mean.
Your loving brother, Kit
Nicholas Delaney closed his eyes in disbelief.
Even for Kit this was a ridiculous handling of an incredible situation, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Then he shrugged, read the letter again, and threw it in the fire, watching carefully to see it was thoroughly burnt.
As he watched the flames he thought, Lionel Chivenham’s sister!
He’d never heard of her, which was a good thing, he supposed.
He wondered how old she was, what she looked like. Kit had neglected the details.
He could refuse, of course, and simply take off for a distant part of the globe.
The financial threat didn’t bother him, but the fact it was made at all told him how desperate his brother was.
Kit had never even hinted at such a thing before, not even when he’d been trying to get Nicholas to stay at home.
However, it wouldn’t suit him to go traveling again just now. He had to go to England very soon to take up the business that had started with Richard Anstable’s death.
He rubbed a hand down his face. God, what a mess! He knew, however, he would not be able to resist Kit if he was really set on this course. He had developed the habit early in life of extracting his twin from his problems. Besides, he loved him.
Shaking his head at the ironies of life, he sat down to compose his reply. He hoped his famous prowess with women would prove up to the demands about to be put upon it…