Chapter Three #2
Marge was the older by three years and was Mama’s pet. Marge was also—at least according to Mama and Marge—cleverer, prettier, and more talented.
Mima had to concede the “prettier.” Marge was an English rose—a peaches and cream complexion, golden hair, blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a figure that was displayed to advantage in everything she wore.
Mima had dark brown hair. Her blue eyes were closer to a faded grey. And she was undeniably… curvy, a charitable aunt put it. Plump, said Mama and Marge.
Today, though, as she examined herself in the mirror, she felt almost beautiful, and the compliments from her cousins lifted her confidence still further.
Let Marge sulk in her tower while Mima married Lord Pelham Townswell!
Never had Mima been happier to be the recipient of something—or in this case someone—rejected by Marge.
*
From the moment she entered the church on her father’s arm, Pel couldn’t take his eyes off his bride.
He ignored the Marquess of Ilton after a single glance.
Likewise, the sparse gathering of supporters on the Harwood side of the church, his sister and a couple of cousins among them, and the larger group of mostly young ladies and gentlemen on the Ilton side—he recognized most of the young men as drinking companions from the night before.
He barely registered his own father’s presence.
All his attention was on Mima, then and throughout the brief ceremony. And when the minister announced that they were man and wife, he felt a surge of pride and joy beyond anything he had expected.
Certainly, beyond what either parent expected. As he stood with Mima to receive the witnesses’ congratulations, both fathers sat glumly at the front of the church, with the aisle and more than 300 years of family hostility between them.
Mima’s cousins thronged to the front of the church to kiss her cheek, the men shaking Pel’s hand and introducing their sisters. Pel’s sisters and cousins, seeing how the Ilton side was greeting their groom, came up to be presented to Mima.
The younger generation—at least those in the church—were willing to let this marriage do the job of starting a peace between the families.
Not so the older generation, as represented by the two fathers.
Pel had half expected the Duke of Norcross to attend, and certainly the marquess’s wife and her brother.
But the two fathers were the only representatives of that generation in the church.
They ignored Pel and his bride, the younger generation, and each other, doing nothing and staring at nothing.
Pel had been thinking. No wedding breakfast was planned, neither father wanting to give his followers the opportunity for any disagreement that might lead to a fight.
But if he and Mima could have a private meal with the two fathers, perhaps they could bring them into the plan.
After all, both peers needed the peace this marriage was meant to represent.
“Mima,” he whispered to his wife, “I have an idea. Will you ask your father to have breakfast with us? And I’ll ask my father. Just the two of us and the two fathers. Not anyone else.”
“You want to tell them our plan,” Mima concluded. “Good. I shall get Papa there.”
Watching her navigate her way through the cousins—a word here, a smile there, Pel once again thanked his lucky stars. She had seen immediately what he was about. What a woman!
Father was reluctant to be, as he put it, “Closeted with that dastard Ilton.” Pel had to work on the man’s guilt to get his agreement. “Father, I have married as you ordered, and I have not asked for anything in return. Will you really refuse me this one small favor?”
“Ilton shan’t agree,” Father grumbled, but Pel had faith in Mima, and sure enough, after he had gone away to arrange a small private parlor and a breakfast fit for a wedding, he returned to find Ilton and Mima standing with Father, the two men looking awkward and grim.
“This way,” Pel said cheerfully, offering Mima his arm. “Your Grace, my lord.” They followed him to the parlor and watched as he seated Mima then took the place beside her at the table.
The two fathers reluctantly took the other two places, Ilton beside Mima and Father beside Pel. Since it was a table of four equal sides, that put Father and Ilton next to one another, but that was all to the good, Pel decided.
“What is this all about, Pelham?” Father demanded.
“Let us wait for the food to be served,” Mima suggested. “We have something to discuss with the two of you, and we do not want word of it to spread beyond this room.”
Well said! Curiosity would keep them here if nothing else did. We are trying to pull your coals from the fire, Pel grumbled, if only in his mind.
The door to the room opened again, and a procession of servants brought in the meal.
Pel had asked that every dish be put out at once, along with wine, coffee, tea, and hot chocolate.
The inn had done well, managing at short notice to produce a veritable feast, which soon covered the table and a sideboard as well.
“See that we are not disturbed,” Pel said, as he gave each servant a coin in thanks.
Ilton had clearly used the time for thinking. “Jemima Ruthermond, how long have you and Townswell known one another?”
Mima looked at Pel, and he knew, as surely as if she had spoken, that she was wondering how much he wanted her to disclose.
“It feels as if we have known one another forever,” he said, “for we understand one another. But as to when we met, that was last night. I broke into the inn’s private garden so we could discuss this marriage and how we can help our families to a permanent peace.
We came up with a plan. We want to share that plan with you today. ”
Ilton barked, “You did what!”
“He came to meet me before our futures changed forever and I am glad he did,” said Mima, firmly. “He is the only person in these past weeks to ask what I wanted and to offer me choices.”
“But Jemima,” Ilton started to say, but his daughter gave him no chance to continue.
“The decision you two fathers made—decisions, I should say, for the two of you decided to sign the agreement, and the two of you decided not to put a stop to the tantrums of my sister and Pel’s brother.
Your decisions left us with only three choices, as Pel pointed out to me last night.
To run away—together or separately. To marry and watch the agreement you signed, and our families, fall apart. To marry and work for peace.”
Ilton looked as if smoke might come out of his ears at any moment, but Pel could not have put it better himself. “We chose the third,” he said. “Which means we also chose one another, and the cause of bringing the two feuding sides together.”
Father had been looking thoughtful. “You said you had a plan, Pelham, and Jemima, if I might make free with my new daughter’s name, you speak of working for peace. What did you have in mind?”
Pel glanced at Mima to see if she wished to answer, but she inclined her head and gestured with one hand, passing the topic to him, so he spoke for them both.
“We have just been wed, my lords, and in the normal course of things, people would leave us alone for a few weeks, and then visit to pay their respects. The gentry folk, at least. But that is custom, not law. Jemima and I plan to visit households, high and low, on both sides of the river, turn and turn about.”
He nodded to Jemima, and she caught his cue and continued the explanation.
“We are counting on two things: First, we are freshly married, and people in general have a soft spot for newly wedded couples. Second, most of the people on both sides of the feud have never met the other side except in a fight.”
“We hope to show that your people, Lord Ilton,” Pel said, and he bowed to his father-in-law, “and yours, Father,” he bowed to his father, “are just people, like any other.”
“Most of us have no idea how the feud began or what it was about,” Mima said. “We have been raised to believe the other side are monsters. Our wedding visits will cause people, we hope, to question that belief.”
“I was always told that a former Duke of Harwood married the lady who was betrothed to the Marquess of Ilton,” Ilton mused. Pel noted that his high color had faded.
“In our version of the events,” retorted Father, “The lady had long been in love with Harwood, but was being forced to marry Ilton.” They glared at one another.
“Either way, that was long ago, and even the great-great-grandchildren of the people involved are long dead,” Pel said.
Perhaps their fathers needed to be reminded of the stakes.
“My lords, we must have peace. The agreement you signed with the Prince Regent says, if the two sides cannot get along, both titles will be attainted. You both, and our families, will lose the entailed estates, and the Duke of Norcross will be hovering, ready to pick up the pieces.”
Ilton shook his head, but Pel thought it was more in sorrow than in disagreement. “That it should come to this. But lad, Norcross tried to talk fat George out of the attainder clause in the agreement. My wife’s brother Edwin was there and told me so.”
Mima grimaced. “Father, Uncle Edwin might not be the friend you think him. My cousin Bella says her father has heard him speaking against the peace. The duke, too.”
A dismissive wave of the hand from Ilton. “Your cousin Bella’s father has never liked Edwin. Or Norcross. I would not worry too much what he thinks.”
“A Norcross man was involved in the ambush I interrupted last night,” Pel said.
“Men with knives wearing Harwood colors, but none of them people I knew—and if they had really been Harwood men, that is impossible. I did recognize one of them as that footman Norcross uses when he wants to threaten people.”
“An ambush by fake Harwood men?” Father asked, sitting forward in his chair and staring intently. “An ambush of whom?”
Pel named the men, for he had been introduced to all of them over the wine they drank last night. Ilton started at the first name, Brant Ruthermond. He sat straighter and looked grimmer with each succeeding name, for they were his people and most of them his relatives.
“After we chased the would-be attackers off,” he told Lord Ilton, “the ten of us went for a drink. Ask them if you want confirmation of what I say.”
“Norcross is a snake,” said Father, “and if you ask me, he’ll be glad to see our agreement fail.”
Ilton shook his head, frowning. “Edwin says…”
“Papa?” Mima put her hand on her father’s arm. “It cannot hurt to ask Brant and Martin. You know them well. If they confirm what Pel says, then perhaps you can be cautious about what you tell Uncle Edwin. After all, you want this peace.”
A cautious nod was the only answer her father gave her, but it was at least a start.
Mima must have taken it as confirmation, for she then said, “We are agreed then, Your Grace, Papa? Pel and I shall spend our bridal month visiting on both sides of the river, showing that the other side does not have horns and a forked tail, and that both the Townswell and the Ruthermond families are willing to let bygones be bygones. Agreed?”
“Ilton,” said Father to his long-time enemy, “I am willing to find some young people from my side to accompany our children. For their safety, and to further demonstrate that the families are at peace. Will you do likewise?”
Pel held his breath, but not for long, for Ilton took only a moment to think about it.
“It is a good idea, Harwood. To keep my daughter safe on your land and your son safe on mine, they will need an escort. Townswell, here, has already met some of my nephews and other young men. I shall arrange for them to be at your disposal, Jemima.”
“Thank you, Papa, and some of my female cousins, as well, please. We should have ladies and gentlemen from both sides, to make us look like a social party rather than a couple and their guards. Your Grace, do you not agree?”
“You are a clever young lady, Jemima,” said Father. “My son is a fortunate man.”
Pel couldn’t agree more.