Chapter Thirty-One
A week later, Robert Morton and his new bride rode in his carriage from London to Brentwood. Behind them, a hired man drove Phoebe’s phaeton rig, which she had refused to part with.
“I bought it with my own money, Robert, and my aunt will have little use for it, for I declare she rarely goes out,” she said with a little toss of her head, making her blonde curls bounce.
“And, I could not imagine leaving my horse, Sylvie, behind. I must have them with me for I cannot wait to explore the countryside all around my new home.”
Robert had considered trying harder to convince her to sell it, seeing as Brentwood had a similar one.
He even thought about telling her she could keep the money from the sale for herself but ultimately decided to let her have her way.
She seemed so attached to it and besides, he could always sell it later.
Not that he needed the money now. Thanks to the success of his plan and swift elopement, Robert had no more fears of losing Brentwood to the many creditors.
The two had fled from the ball, stopping briefly at Phoebe’s aunt’s house so she could quickly pack some clothes and necessary items. She also left a note for her aunt, advising her of the elopement plans.
Then, within a half hour they were back in the carriage, bound for the north.
They had gone as far as Robert thought necessary to escape any possible pursuit that first night, stopping at a small inn that appeared inexpensive, but reputable.
There, Robert had paid for one room, having earlier explained to Phoebe that there would be little point in paying for two since they were soon to be married, anyway.
He had said he simply could not wait for her to share his bed and to be able to show his love for her and hold her all through the night.
His true motive, he had to admit, was to absolutely make certain that she wouldn’t get cold feet over the elopement and abscond in the night.
Taking her virginity would ensure the marriage would take place in Scotland even should she have any present doubts.
After a moment’s thought, she had agreed to the one room and, to his surprise, she was a most willing and eager participant in that night’s bedtime activities.
She so appeared to enjoy herself that he even briefly wondered whether she had prior experience, but he put such thoughts out of his head.
He decided to count his blessings that he had not had to deal with an emotional, tearful virgin.
Miss Charlotte would have been like that, he mused.
Thinking of Charlotte brought a small twinge of guilt once more to him.
He knew his abandoning Miss Kendall for Miss Graham’s riches was wrong, but it could not be helped.
Fortunately, his future wife proved a happy distraction from such thoughts.
The next morning, they had continued the journey to Gretna Green, Robert ordering his driver to push as hard as possible.
Four days up and back meant he would be cutting it extremely close to transfer her dowry money into his own accounts and pay his creditors before they showed up at Brentwood with wagons to haul away anything of value.
When they had finally arrived in Gretna Green, they went straight to the blacksmith’s shop to be wed. Phoebe declared that being able to wear her elegant dress from the night of the ball was “simply perfect,” and she had no need of another.
Following their anvil wedding, the two had proceeded immediately back to London.
Phoebe pouted a bit over that, saying she wished to visit the shops, but Robert easily convinced her that a quick return was a good idea so that she might show off her wedding ring (his mother’s, back from the jeweler, all cleaned and brought with him from Brentwood).
He had said they also must apologize to her aunt for any upset their elopement might have caused.
Once back in London, they had stayed two nights with the elder Miss Graham, and Robert did his best to charm and convince her that he loved her niece above all creatures and would make her happy.
Miss Graham confessed to them that after she discovered the elopement note, she had stayed at home for the next week, declining any callers and telling everyone who inquired that her niece was ailing with a small cold and was therefore unable to attend any social events.
That way, should the girl return from Gretna Green unmarried still, a ruinous scandal might be avoided.
“Once I realized you were no longer at the ball, dear niece, I nearly had to sneak away to avoid anyone noticing we were not departing together. Such gossip that would have caused,” she had said sternly.
But, seeing that Phoebe was indeed married and fairly bubbling over with happiness, the aunt had been mollified and accepted their apology for eloping.
After all, it was not as though Robert were some reprobate fortune hunter—he was a wealthy gentleman with his own fine estate.
Miss Graham said she would see to placing a small notice in the papers of the marriage and word would quickly spread of Phoebe’s happy new status.
With luck, the scandal over the hastiness of the marriage would soon be forgotten and all would be well.
Their first full day back in town, Robert took his bride to the bank for the necessary transaction of taking charge of the dowry funds.
It was just shy of five-thousand pounds; she had been spending rather profligately, he noted, but vowed to now put an end to that and to place her on a strict allowance.
Once the money was in his own account, Robert immediately visited Mr. Marshall to confer over the payment of all his father’s debts.
That finished, Robert was a touch saddened to see most of Phoebe’s money leave his bank account after such a brief visit there, but the knowledge that Brentwood was once again solvent and no longer under threat of being sold was compensation enough.
He would still have to be careful with his spending but the next harvest looked promising and that would bring all the finances around right, Mr. Marshall assured him.
He might even be able to retake full possession of his London town home and join the men’s club again.
The prospect made him realize how long the gloomy financial cloud had hung over him—his relief was palpable.
Now as they approached Brentwood, Robert smiled to himself, reflecting how he had once considered using his town home to entertain young women more to his taste should he end up with a wife who overly annoyed him or who did not enjoy her marital duties.
But, he had learned Phoebe was all enthusiasm for the act.
It made up greatly for the other thing about his new bride he had learned, which was that rarely a thought came into her pretty little head that did not also immediately proceed directly from her mouth.
It seemed she chattered on nearly non-stop—something he had not noticed earlier in their acquaintance.
Robert found it very tiresome, which was one more reason he was eager to get to Brentwood where he could secure some privacy in the sanctuary of his study.
He had already learned to ignore much of her prattling speech and only truly listen when a certain tone came into her voice—one he was hearing just now. He turned to her, smiling.
“Yes, my dear? You were saying?”
Phoebe pouted prettily. “Honestly, Robert, sometimes I think you are off in another world of your own. Did you not hear a word I said? I was asking whether we are now on Brentwood estate proper.”
Robert leaned out the window and scanned the landscape before leaning back and clasping his bride’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Yes, my dear, we are just now on the property. Soon, you will see the lovely home of which you will be mistress.”
“Oh, I shall be so glad to see it. And so eager to learn all about it. How many servants shall I have at my beck and call? Will I like the housekeeper? I do hope so. What did you say her name was, Mrs. Syme?”
Robert opened his mouth to reply, but she continued on.
“Is there a proper lady’s maid for me? There must be, of course.
I need one who can do my hair to its best advantage.
After all, I am certain I shall be entertaining visitors from all around the county once word gets out of our marriage, and I must look my best. Perhaps I should have asked little Sarah to come with me from my aunt’s house.
She did a fair enough job on my hair. At least, I am not aware of any criticisms of it.
I think I looked very well, indeed. Oh, but Sarah so dislikes the country life.
She had told me so more than once, let me assure you.
She said she dislikes the small towns in the country and the lack of shops, but if you ask me—and I know you did not, but I shall tell you in any event—I believe she has a young man in town upon whom she is pinning her hopes of marriage.
Is that not just thrilling? So, no, I suppose I could not tear her away from that.
It would simply be too cruel. Therefore, should you not have a proper lady’s maid for me at Brentwood, I shall have to query some of my future acquaintances in the county for their advice.
Yes, that is what I shall do. I shall ask the older ladies I meet.
They always enjoy being asked their opinion, do not you find that to be true—”
“And, here we are,” Robert interrupted her firmly as the carriage pulled around to the front of Brentwood.
One of the liverymen jumped down to open the door, and Robert hopped out, then extended his hand to help his new bride out.
She looked up in awe at the stately home and gazed at the lovely grounds, now showing off their peak summer glory.
For a moment, Phoebe seemed speechless. But, it was just a brief moment.
“Oh, Robert, dearest—you have brought me to heaven. To heaven itself, I tell you. How beautiful. How elegant. I shall be so happy and content here.”
He kissed her cheek in appreciation of her enthusiasm. “I am the happy one, my dear. Brentwood is fortunate to have such a lovely and gracious lady as you to be its new mistress.”
He guided her toward the entry. Just as they reached it, Millard, the butler, opened the door.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he said. “Welcome home.” He turned an expectant gaze toward Phoebe.
“Thank you, Millard. I trust all is well here? Allow me to present my wife, the former Miss Phoebe Graham, now Mrs. Robert Morton.”
Robert knew that Millard was such an experienced servant, that he rarely let anything disrupt his implacable countenance, but this news was clearly so unexpected that Robert saw his butler could not prevent the briefest expression of surprise from crossing his face, though the man recovered quickly, bowing to his new mistress, saying, “Please, accept my sincere best wishes on your marriage, Mrs. Morton. We all will be most happy to have you here.”
Phoebe giggled before assuming an air of superiority. “Thank you kindly, Millard.”
Robert guided his wife past the butler into the house. “Please have the entire staff assembled here in the hallway in half an hour, Millard, so that everyone may meet the new mistress of Brentwood. And send Mrs. Syme up to us at once.”
“Very good, sir.” He bowed again.
“What’s that? What did I just hear you say, Robert?” a voice asked from the stairwell.
Robert looked up to see his brother coming toward him with an expression of complete astonishment on his face.
“Did you say the ‘new mistress’ of Brentwood?” Frederick reached the bottom of the staircase and walked over to stand before the couple. “Or did I mishear you?”
“No, you heard quite correctly. Miss Phoebe Graham and I were wed last week in Gretna Green. While I was in London for business, we reunited at a ball and, much to our surprise, we found our hearts were so in accord that we could not bear the thought of waiting to marry, so off we went.” He turned to his bride, who was preening and giggling with delight.
“However, dearest, had we waited to wed, my brother Frederick would have likely performed the ceremony.”
“Oh, is this is Freddy?” Phoebe threw her arms around Frederick, increasing, if possible, his countenance of shock.
“I am so happy to meet you at last. Robert has told me so much about you. I can hardly wait to hear one of your sermons. You will have to forgive me, though, if I do not pay complete attention to it. I am afraid dreary sermons quite often make my mind wander or put me to sleep.” She frowned.
“Oh, but perhaps your sermons will not be so dour. I can certainly hope so for I should hate not to enjoy any sermon you should give. I guess we shall have to see in due time, though, shall we not?” She dissolved into giggles.
Recovering himself somewhat, Frederick bowed to his new sister. “I am…quite happy to, uh, welcome you to your new home. I hope you will find Brentwood to your liking.”
“Oh, I am certain I shall.” Phoebe gazed around the entry hall with wide eyes. “It is all so lovely and splendid.”
“Robert, might we have a moment in privacy to speak?” Frederick asked, glaring at his sibling.
“Not just now. I wish to give Phoebe a tour, and we need to get settled in a bit. But soon, Freddy, we shall speak very soon, I promise.” Robert looked past his brother to the housekeeper, walking toward them.
“Ah, Mrs. Syme. Please allow me to present your new mistress to you. She was Phoebe Graham until just a week ago but is now my wife, the new Mrs. Morton. Dearest, this is our housekeeper, Mrs. Syme, and if you allow yourself to be in her hands, you will not put a foot wrong in your new responsibilities. Mrs. Syme has been a part of Brentwood estate and our family since my childhood. There is nothing she cannot tell you about your new home.”
“Good day to you, Mrs. Morton,” Mrs. Syme said smoothly with a small curtsy and composed countenance. “Why do we not go upstairs and I shall begin by showing you to your rooms?”
“Yes, dear—let us go along now, and then we shall come down to meet the full staff. I shall give you a full tour of our property in due course.”
Phoebe nodded happily and slipping her arm into his, she, Robert, and Mrs. Syme went up the stairs.
*
Frederick remained in the hall, watching them go, trying to process this remarkable turn of events.
Robert had sworn that he loved Miss Kendall—he had said he intended to propose.
What could have caused this complete transformation in his affections?
Frederick found himself beyond astonished at his brother’s actions and determined he would get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.