Chapter 22 The Blue Parlour #2
She sighed, but he said nothing, merely gazing bemusedly at her, so she ploughed on.
“And then Maria wanted white or cream, so that she could wear a little bit of lace instead of a regular ribbon, and who could deny her that? So I was left with yellow. Well, I could have had red, but that is such an uncompromising colour, is it not? As for green… oh, no. So it had to be yellow, which does not suit me very well, but there we are. And it cannot be a pale yellow, or it might look too much like Maria’s cream. Do you like it? My yellow ribbon?”
The smile had vanished. “I did not come here to talk about ribbons,” he said tersely.
“What did you come to talk about?” she said blandly, trying to suppress her amusement. He was so easy to tease, and she really should not. “Shall we sit? I should feel more comfortable if we sit.”
She perched on a sofa, and at once realised her mistake, for he sat alongside her, his face afire, and seized her hand in his.
“Miss Merrington… Sophia… you talk about ribbons from nervousness, I am sure, but there is no need. You know what I am about to say. My visit to my father was timely, for it enabled me to tell him about you, and you may be sure I described you in the most glowing terms. Be assured that I have his full approval for all that I am about to say, for I know that must weigh with you.”
“Must it?” she said, her mischievous imp still driving her.
“Of course it must!” he said sharply. “My father is a marquess!”
“Oh yes! The Marquess of Pentavon — I looked him up in the Peerage. Such a distinguished history, and Pentavon Castle— I beg your pardon, sir. I interrupted you.”
“It is of no consequence,” he said stiffly.
“My father approves of our match, that is the important point, so you need not hesitate on that account. He feels that a connection to the Duke of Brinshire is an excellent idea. And the duke himself has no objection, he as good as told me so. At least, he will give you a dowry, which is the same thing.”
“And my brother?” she said sweetly. “He is the one you will have to convince.”
“Merrington? Why should he object?”
“I cannot say, but he might. Gentlemen know more about other gentlemen than ladies do, after all, and he might know something about you to which I am not privy.”
“Great heavens, is this what you think — that I have some monstrous secret in my history?” Now he sounded quite cross.
“Did I not just say that I do not know what secrets you might have?”
“Well, I have none.”
“I am glad to hear it, although I should have supposed it so. I do not think you have the—” Hmm, courage? Imagination? “—the disregard for your family’s honour to do anything dreadful.”
“Thank you for that, at least. Good Lord, Sophia, you used not to be such a gabble-mouth! Will you let me say what I have come all the way from Gloucestershire to say to you?”
“I beg your pardon, sir. Pray continue.”
She bowed her head meekly, but inside her laughter was bubbling up and trying very hard to burst out. She could not wait to tell her sisters about this — but no, a private interview was undoubtedly meant to remain private. Bother! They would have enjoyed the joke, she was sure.
“Thank you. Sophia…” He huffed in annoyance. “You have distracted me so much that I have forgot what I was about to say.”
She was so tempted to say ‘You were about to propose marriage’, but the glower on his face deterred her. His patience was wearing thin. So she bit her tongue and waited for him to put his thoughts in order.
“Well, you know it anyway, I dare say. You must have heard it a thousand times — admiration and so forth. Wanting to share my life with you, that sort of thing. Let us dispense with all the flowery nothings and get to the point. Will you marry me, Sophia?”
Flowery nothings? Could he not even be bothered to make some show of affection?
A few compliments — she did not ask for much.
She was twenty-eight years old, a person of very little account outside her own family, so her expectations were low, and she had no wish for false declarations of love. But he ought to make some effort.
“I do not want flowery nothings, Daniel,” she said gently, “but I should like to know why precisely you want to marry me.”
“Well… the usual reasons,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I… I like you, Sophia. I think we should suit very well.”
“Where should we live?”
“Oh, that is all settled,” he said smugly.
“The north wing of Pentavon. My oldest brother has it at present, but when he marries next month, he will move out to the western gatehouse — that is always kept for the heir, you see. So the north wing goes to whichever of the rest of us marries first, and I thought…” He must have realised how unflattering this line of thought was, for he finished lamely, “And I met you, fortuitously, and so I thought…”
That I would do, she mentally finished for him. But she was tired of teasing a man who provided so little sport, so instead she said, “How many rooms?”
“In the north wing? Four — parlour, dining room, bedroom, dressing room.”
“That is very small,” she said.
“It is perfectly adequate for the two of us, since any children will share the nursery with my brothers’ children. You can have the dressing room, if you like.”
“How kind. What is your income?”
He frowned. “That is no concern of yours. It will be enough to support a wife and children, that is all you need to know.”
“My pin money is very much my concern.”
“That will be agreed when the settlements are drawn up. You do not need to worry about that, my dear. Money is a matter for men to decide. I shall ensure you have enough for your furbelows and bonnets.”
“I am glad to hear it. Pray tell me something of life at Pentavon Castle, if it is to be my home. How often do you hold a ball there?”
“A ball? What a frivolous question!”
“Not to me,” she said firmly.
“We never hold balls there,” he said disdainfully. “We go to town for that sort of thing.”
“But that is only three months of the year,” she said sorrowfully. “How dreadful to have nine months of every year without the prospect of a ball. I shall be very miserable.”
“Oh, town is not for the married women,” he said. “My sisters go for their presentations, and to prance around a bit, but dancing is not for the matrons. They have too much to do at home and with the children to care about balls and such like.”
“Then that settles the matter,” Sophia said, withdrawing her hand from his, which had become uncomfortably clammy, and rising to her feet. “I thank you for your most obliging offer, Lord Daniel, but I cannot marry you. We should not suit at all.”
He jumped up, too, his face thunderous. “Because you want to make an exhibition of yourself by dancing?”
“I love to dance,” she said simply. “I have few pleasures in my life, sir, beyond my own family, but dancing is one of them. If you plan to deprive me not only of my family but of the joy of dancing, too, then I cannot possibly marry you. I would have to be greatly in love with you to make such sacrifices, and I am not. Nor do I think you have that attachment to me which would enable you to understand my character and bend to my wishes, even in so small a matter. I suspect, in fact, that you are looking for a wife who will be there when you require her company and will meekly disappear at other times to tend to domestic affairs, while you do as you please. That is not the sort of marriage I hope for.”
“You hope for the moon, then,” he muttered.
“No, only a man who loves me passionately and listens to my concerns and wants to share every part of his life with me, and not one who only sees me as a useful means of obtaining his own accommodation. Goodbye, Lord Daniel.”
She held out her hand, but he was too angry even to touch her. Without a word, he swept out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
For a moment, she stood immobile, savouring her triumph. Then, slowly, she began to laugh. She was still laughing when faces peeped round the door frame.
“Did you actually turn him down?” Charlotte said in awed tones.
“What went wrong?” Augusta said.
“Why did he look so angry?” Maria said.
Mama strode through the door, but she said nothing. Nor did she need to speak, for her dark countenance spoke eloquently enough.
“I could not marry a man who will not let me dance,” Sophia said briskly. “Even you, Mama, cannot expect me to give up every pleasure for the sake of a ring on my finger.”
“Oh, Sophia!” Mama said sadly. “The son of a marquess! You will never have an offer even half so good again, as you must be aware. You are not pining for Mr Payne, I hope,” she added sharply. “Your Mr Payne is never likely to be able to afford a wife, so put him out of your head at once.”
That was easier said than done! Sophia said carefully, “Mama, I know it was an excellent offer and I had no objection to Lord Daniel himself. I rather liked him, in fact. But liking is not quite enough. I have seen what a happy, loving marriage can be, both in you and Papa, and now in Richard and Rowena. You cannot blame me, surely, for hoping still for the same for myself.”
“Which is wonderful when it happens, but one must be practical.” She heaved a sigh.
“Well, what is done is done. I must say, you are a great disappointment to me, Sophia. After all my efforts to encourage this match, you snap your fingers at it. Such an undutiful daughter! Well, I wash my hands of you, that is all I have to say on the matter.”
So saying, she swept regally out of the room, head high.
As soon as she had gone, her sisters crowded around her.
“He is back from Edlesborough…”
“…not an hour since…”
“… and when he heard you were with Lord Daniel…”
“…he looked so…”
“Heartbroken!” they ended in unison.
“Simon? Simon is here?”
She did not wait for a reply, flying on winged feet out into the hall and up the stairs. He was back! She must see him at once… at once!