Chapter 26 Expectations #2
“Quite so. And you… well, you flirt with her a great deal, do you not? You have always flirted with her, even when you were engaged to another woman, which was not quite proper. However, I say nothing about that. But then your engagement was broken, and ever since then, you have veered from your old flirtatious ways to treating poor Charlotte with the utmost coldness, and leaving her in a torment of uncertainty. Her hopes are raised one minute, only to be dashed down the next, so that she hardly knows whether she is coming or going. She is a good girl and makes no fuss, so perhaps you are not aware how much of her affection has already been bestowed upon you, but I do not scruple to tell you that it breaks my heart to see her in such distress. I would not have her made unhappy by any man’s thoughtlessness, so I feel it only proper to give you a hint. ”
“Thank you,” he said in a low voice. “I… I was not aware…”
“Precisely,” she said crisply, rising from the stool and shaking out her skirts. “Are now that you have been made aware, you will know how to act, I am sure.”
She swept regally out of the room, leaving Lance shaking from the fierceness of the assault.
He knew precisely how she expected him to act…
how a gentleman should act, when the expectation of marriage has been raised.
Yet every fibre of his being rebelled, screaming at him not to do it.
Yet he must. However little he wanted to, he must marry Charlotte.
He could not tell how long he sat, unmoving, his elbows on his knees, head low. He heard nothing, but he knew the instant she entered the room.
Lifting his head, he said warily, “Lily.”
She pulled forward a footstool and sat at his feet.
“Mrs Merrington told us all about it. Not Charlotte… she is in the basement somewhere, seeing about the dinner, and we are forbidden from saying anything to her, but her mother is so much in alt that she told the rest of us. She has ‘resolved poor Charlotte’s situation’, as she put it.
But tell me, Lance, has Charlotte given you any indication that she is expecting your addresses?
For it seems to me that she is remarkably calm in your presence for a woman supposedly deep in love. ”
“It hardly matters,” he said, his voice low.
“If her mother expects it… if there is a general expectation, then a gentleman cannot honourably walk away from the obligation. Am I a gentleman, Lily? Perhaps I should not walk but run away. I have never given her reason to suppose I cared for her above the degree of friendship. A little flirtation, that is all, but no kisses, no talk of love, no promises, not even hints.”
“And I have never seen anything in your manner towards her that would justify a belief of affection on your part. At first, after all, you were engaged to another woman, and you did not change your manner materially when you became free. If anything, you drew back from Charlotte. But the sisters — and their mother! — have their minds fixed on matrimony, justified or not. They have created this situation through their own endless speculation.”
“That does not change the situation one jot,” he said, with some force.
There was a long silence, while Lily looked down at her hands. Such white hands, small and dainty, the fingers as delicate as a child’s. After a while, she looked up at him, her expression clouded.
“Charlotte is… very amiable. She would make you a conformable wife.”
He raised his eyebrows, and gave a small shrug. “That is precisely what my valet said, and it is perfectly true. I still think I should prefer to run away.”
“Lance…” She took his larger, charcoal-stained hand in hers, making him shiver, as a thousand emotions passed through him. Had he ever touched her before? Not without gloves, not like this, warm skin to warm skin.
“I know you dislike the idea, but there is a deep satisfaction in doing the right thing… the honourable thing. If you leave now, you will always have the knowledge that you did not meet the expectations of gentlemanly behaviour. You will have the regret of leaving this house under a cloud, of not fulfilling the commission the duke has offered you, of painting the ballroom ceiling. And perhaps you leave Charlotte unable to find another husband. She is two and thirty already. Is it likely she will have another opportunity? So you condemn her to perpetual spinsterhood.”
“You think, then, that I should marry her? Even when my affections are… not engaged?”
“The pursuit of personal happiness is all very well, but there is such comfort in doing one’s duty, Lance.”
“You are speaking of yourself,” he said softly.
“If I had been the only child of indulgent parents, I should never have married the duke,” she said.
“I should have waited for a man who could capture my heart… a handsome man, a young man, on whom I could bestow my love as well as my respect. But with so many younger brothers and sisters to be provided for, and the duke so kind as to shower the family with largesse and ask so little in return… I made my choice and I have never regretted it, not for a moment. I can go to church each Sunday and face God knowing that I did what was expected of me. I did my duty. That is worth something, is it not?”
Wordlessly, he nodded.
Stroking his hand softly, she went on, “I know that if I had refused the duke, I should always have had this little ache inside, the knowledge that I was tested and fell short. To put my own happiness above the needs of others — that would be a great sin, and it is a comfort to me that I did what was right.”
“Then I shall stay and do my duty,” he whispered, “however difficult it is.”
She smiled then, and, lifting his hand to her lips, kissed it gently. “And I shall make it easier for you. Since you cannot do so, I shall run away in your place.”
In one swift movement, she released his hand and rose smoothly to her feet. Then, with a swirl of skirts and a waft of delicate perfume, she was gone.
Lance was too overwhelmed with grief to move.
His hand burned where she had held it… and kissed it!
He could feel her lips upon his skin even now, like a fiery imprint.
At that moment, wanting her so badly yet knowing that she would never be his, his feelings rose up to drown out every rational thought in his head.
It was only when he heard voices in the White Drawing Room next door that he realised how unfit he was for company and escaped to the sanctuary of his room.
By the dressing hour, he had accepted his fate.
If he must offer for Charlotte, then so be it.
He bathed and dressed in silence, and when he went downstairs before dinner, he sought out Charlotte and made himself agreeable to her.
She responded with a lightness of manner that, had he been in love with her, would have delighted him.
She was delicately flirtatious without ever veering into impropriety, yet could rise to a more elevated level of discourse if the subject demanded it.
In fact, as he led her into dinner, he could not but reflect that she would indeed make him an excellent wife.
His wife! Perhaps it was not so bad an idea.
She had no title yet, but would be able to claim it when her brother was the duke.
Lady Charlotte Chamberlain — that sounded rather well.
There would be a dowry, too. Was not that all he had wanted in a wife, once, when he had known no better?
Yes, it could be worse. It could be very much worse.
Yet even as his head recited all these advantages of the match, still his heart ached.
There was one more trial of his fortitude to be endured that evening. After dinner, the duke had an announcement to make.
“A sad moment has come, my friends, one long promised but much delayed. When our son died two years ago, my dear duchess expressed a wish to remove to her natal county of Cheshire, there to form her own establishment within reach of her own family, and it has always been my intention to oblige her in this matter. For some time now there has been no residence suitable, but at last this has been remedied, and I have been offered a fine estate which adjoins Elmhall, the Willaston family seat. It will be vacated by Michaelmas, and so, to my great sorrow, my dearest Lily will soon be leaving us.”
“Not forever, Duke,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I shall visit Staineybank sometimes, you may be sure, and you are welcome to visit me at Winchcote House. Indeed, anyone may visit me — I hope you will all come, for I shall miss you all abominably. But I miss my own family, too, and now I shall be only a ten-minute walk away from them.”
“And we shall meet often in town, I dare say,” the duke said sadly, gazing down at his wife.
“So we shall, Duke, so we shall.”
It was hard to say which of the two looked more unhappy at the forthcoming separation.
***
Lance spent three days courting Charlotte, if his attentions could be dignified by that term.
He had no qualms about proceeding directly to an offer, for Charlotte had no father to give his consent and her mother’s views he already knew.
As for her brother, Lance had heard him say often enough how glad he would be to see any or all of his sisters safely wed and no longer a drain on his purse, that he could not doubt of receiving his approval.
However, there was the tricky business of getting Charlotte on her own to make his offer.
She was either down in the basement surrounded by servants, or else she was in a cluster of other females.
In either case, how awkward it would be to ask to see her alone, or, even worse, to call upon her mother to arrange an interview.
In the event, the matter came to a head without formality. Lance was passing through the Marble Hall one day when he saw Charlotte atop a ladder with a feather duster in her hand.
“Lottie, whatever are you doing?”
“Dusting the sconces. Surely you can see that?”
“Yes, but why? Has the duke’s army of housemaids taken the day off? All succumbed to influenza? Broken their legs?”
She laughed merrily. “There were cobwebs. I cannot abide cobwebs.”
“Well, I cannot abide seeing you up a ladder. Come down this instant, and leave the cobwebs to those paid to deal with them.”
“How dictatorial you are become, Lance Chamberlain. Why should I come down? Give me one good reason.”
“Because I want to make a proposal of marriage to you.” The words just slipped out, but he could not regret them. It resolved his difficulty, and got the necessary business of the offer out of the way.
She went pink. “Oh! Oh, Lance! But that is certainly a good reason to set aside my dusting for a while.”
Cautiously she descended the ladder, removing her apron and laying it and the duster on a side table. Then she followed him into the Blue Parlour, and sat demurely on a sofa, smoothing her skirts.
“I should have put on one of my best gowns if I had known,” she said. “Do I have cobwebs in my hair?”
“You look delightfully,” he said, amused, wondering if she would always have that power to make him laugh. It helped. Definitely it helped.
“No cobwebs?”
“Not one. Spiders, however— No, no, I am only teasing! No need to start screaming.”
“Are you truly going to propose?”
“If ever we stop talking about cobwebs, certainly.” How to say it?
Quickly, he decided, to get over heavy ground with all possible speed.
“Lottie, we have always been the best of friends, have we not? We get on so well, and… and I am so fond of you. I think… hope that you feel some affection for me, too, and if so… Lottie, will you marry me?”
As proposals went, it was sadly deficient, but the suddenness left him ill-prepared. The task of choosing words which were fitting for the occasion yet still true was daunting, and despite hours labouring over the problem, he had not reached a conclusion when the hour of declaration was upon him.
It did not matter. She went even pinker, her eyes shining. “Oh, yes! I should like that very much.”
And in that instant the bars of the cage closed around him. There was no turning back now.