Chapter 14 Courtship #2
Froggett announced dinner at that moment, Mr Payne offered his arm to Charlotte, and Lord Daniel turned expectantly to Sophia. For the rest of the evening, he never left her side, but he seemed subdued.
Her own feelings were too muddled to bear close scrutiny.
She liked him, naturally, for there was nothing to dislike in him.
He was adequately handsome, a fashionable dresser, if one cared for that, and his rank made him eligible, although she had no idea what his income would be.
In conversation, he was… well, adequate would be the word again.
His manners were gentlemanlike, although with those odd lapses that were hard to account for.
He disliked dancing — she remembered his words at Marshfields, where he had said he would prefer a good slice of mutton!
Still, not everyone liked to dance and she would not hold that against him.
But ignoring her, when she had put on the finest dress she had ever worn, and looked as if she would not be out of place in Grosvenor Square — that she could not quite forgive.
And so, even as he exerted himself to please her, she was unmoved.
She would accept him, of course. There could be no doubt on that point.
But she felt that it would be some time before she could forget the way he had whispered to Charlotte, and it had been as if Sophia were not even there.
It was not the action of a man on the point of a proposal, to slight his intended in that way, and she wondered greatly what he meant by it.
***
Simon made his excuses to the card players and made his way swiftly to Juliet’s room. He knocked, but there was no answer. He went in anyway, to find the fire burning low and the single candle guttering badly. He attended to these matters first, then went to the small figure curled up in the bed.
“Are you feeling any better, sister?”
As she shook her head, he could see tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Did you eat any of your dinner?” He scanned the tray on the bedside table. “Nothing touched. Come now, we will survive this, you know we will.”
“Lodgers, Simon?” she hissed, abruptly sitting upright. “Strangers in the house? Aunt Tabitha will turn in her grave.”
“I shall find employment. As a secretary, perhaps. Or I could teach… we could set up a small school. At least we have the house, Juliet. If all else fails, we could rent it out, and take rooms somewhere for ourselves.”
“Lodgings! Are we sunk so low? I cannot bear it, truly I cannot.”
Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed. “This is not like you, sister. Was it not you who always found some good in every setback? We will survive, you always said. Every time a prospective client faded away, you cheered me up and assured me that one day I would succeed, and then we should have all the money we needed for life’s little elegances. I do not like to see you so cast down.”
“It is finding out about my mother,” she said, sniffing slightly, and mopping at the tears.
“Divorced! How can I hold my head up in public with such a blot on the good name of my family? I could suffer the deprivations of our life perfectly well, knowing that I was the daughter of the Earl of Edlesborough, with a long, distinguished lineage. I could be proud of my heritage, even as I despised the current occupant of the family’s honours.
But the daughter of a woman so scandalous that her husband divorced her — how can I possibly live with the shame of that?
It is beyond my capability to raise my spirits in such a situation. ”
“You are the same person you always were. Her disgrace is not yours, and if your father had protected you as he ought—”
She sat a little more upright. “Yes! Perhaps one cannot blame him for sending me away but—”
“Of course one can!”
“Well, you may be right, but even if he wanted me gone from Edlesborough, he could have paid Aunt Tabitha an allowance to look after me. We should both have had an allowance. Nasty, vindictive man! We will survive, brother, if only to spite the old weasel. I could take a position as a housekeeper, for no one could say I am not well qualified. We could both find living-in positions, which would save the cost of lodgings. It would be horrid, but we should not starve, I suppose. The world is full of evil men, Simon. It is so dispiriting. Papa is bad enough, but Mr Thwaite seemed like such a pleasant man. Two years he has had us dangling and it was all a hum. Wicked, wicked man to keep us on a string all this time, and now this!” She rattled the letter at him.
He took it from her, reading again Thwaite’s uncompromising words.
‘Very much liked your designs but have decided not to proceed… expense… bad time… many apologies…’ He sighed.
“Should I bill him for my time? There have been half a dozen full drawings, and innumerable sketches. I spent a month just on ceilings.”
“Certainly you should! That fellow with the kennels — he paid for the designs, even though they were never built.”
“He paid me fifty pounds, that is all. It barely covered the cost of travelling to his estate, let alone my drawing paper. And since then, nothing,” he said frowning. “People enquire, they meet me, I do a few preliminary sketches and then they simply vanish.”
“What might we get to rent out the whole house?”
“I have not the least idea. We will enquire when we go back to London.”
“That could be any day,” she said glumly.
“The duke will settle for Richard Merrington’s designs for the orangery, I am sure of it.
He is just using you to come up with the ideas.
Mr Merrington will modify them slightly, that is all, for he has no good ideas of his own.
Did you see his original plans? Dreadful!
Quite dreadful. Not elegant, like yours.
But he will copy yours, and the duke will send us packing and then we shall be reduced to taking paid employment! The humiliation of it!”
“Matters are not yet so desperate,” he said gently.
“They would not be if you would only marry one of the Merrington girls. Ten thousand apiece, thanks to the duke! Five hundred a year! Just think how well we should live on such an income. And this son of a marquess comes here with his fancy clothes and his smiles, and makes up to Sophia and you do nothing at all to stop him.”
“What would you have me do, Juliet?” he said impatiently. “He is a far more eligible match than I am ever likely to be. Sophia wants nothing more than to marry, and I will not stand in the way of her happiness.”
“She could marry you, silly boy! Five hundred a year… we could afford fires in the bedrooms.”
“You would make me a fortune hunter, sister. It would be dishonourable.”
“Honour! We cannot eat honour, Simon. Oh, go away, do. Slide that tray a bit nearer before you go, will you? I might have a bite to eat before I sleep.”
“The snipe is very good. Did they send you any lobster? They did!”
“Snipe! Lobster!” She sighed. “I hope the duke takes a very long time to make his decision.”