Chapter 19
This episode gave Marguerite an idea, which she soon put into action.
Lord and Lady Lennox having expressed a wish to visit their daughter and future son-in-law, they were expected to luncheon in a few days.
They arrived in their traveling chaise, amid the usual bustle in the courtyard, and were brought in by Curtis, who had been dispatched to lurk outside and wait for them.
Marguerite was overjoyed to see them, and they embraced warmly. Lord and Lady Lennox exchanged glances when they saw the parlour and Argyle’s pale face, but they said nothing. Lord Lennox said to his daughter, ‘You look lovely, my dear.’
‘Thank you, Papa.’ Marguerite had chosen a pretty muslin gown, primrose yellow with a lace collar, and Flossie had spent time on her hair.
She looked at her father’s richly embroidered waistcoat, his silk knee breeches and stockings, and teased him.
‘And you are resplendent. One would think you had come to a wedding. Are you trying to impress the duke?’
Her father laughed. ‘Indeed I am, since I gather he is to be my son-in-law.’ He bowed to Argyle and the two men exchanged a cordial handshake before sitting down on the sofa.
Marguerite proposed to take her mother upstairs to her bedchamber so that she could refresh herself after the journey and Lady Lennox accepted with alacrity, more out of a wish to inspect the sleeping arrangements than anything else.
As they walked up the stairs, she held her daughter’s hand and said, ‘I am glad to see you happy, ma chérie.’
‘I am, Maman. Tout va bien. I am to be married, as has been your wish all along. I have changed my mind about Thomas.’
‘C’est évident. And he asked you to call him Thomas?’
Marguerite laughed. ‘Yes. I refused at first, thinking it too…intimate. But he insisted so much, I gave in.’
In the bedchamber, her mother looked at the dark beams on the ceiling, the flowered curtains and the fire burning in the grate and said, ‘It is perfectly convenable. And where are His Grace’s rooms?’
‘Down the hall. Do not worry, Maman, we are being entirely proper. Flossie is a gorgon of a chaperone, I will have you know.’ She kept a straight face but smiled inwardly, thinking that at least that part of it was true—even if Flossie did not quite manage to have the effect she desired.
She hoped her mother would not start giving her an embarrassing lecture on her future marital duties, but thankfully Lady Lennox was shy of alluding to such matters, as well as suspecting that her daughter was fully capable of acquiring any information she needed.
They came down to find the men engaged in easy conversation. Lord Lennox said, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘We have been arranging the marriage settlement, haven’t we, Duke?’
Argyle said, ‘It did not take us very long.’ He smiled at his beloved.
Marguerite laughed at them and thought they would rub along very well in the future. She bided her time until they were ensconced around the table where a feast was laid out, and her parents inquired about Argyle’s health.
He had made an effort with his clothes and, although she found him elegant, she could see he was uncomfortable in his tight-fitting coat and waistcoat and formal neckcloth; he had been spending his days in shirtsleeves and his body was sensitive still.
But he smiled and looked genuinely pleased to see her parents, which delighted her.
The stiff formality of their previous meeting was gone, and she could see her father had the gleam in his eye that showed he appreciated the company and the conversation.
Mrs Mowat had provided a variety of cold meats, as well as her special honey cake and a pyramid of apples, walnuts and pears.
Marguerite poured a cup of tea for her mother and glasses of ale for the men, then stood next to her father and placed an arm around his neck. ‘Papa, I have a mission for you.’
Lord Lennox put his own arm around her waist and said, ‘Whatever you want, my sweet.’
‘Thomas and I have decided we want to get married as quickly as possible—’
‘We have?’ Her beloved raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
She ignored him and continued, ‘—so I would like you to procure a special license for us and find a vicar who will marry us in this very parlour.’
She saw Argyle looking at her with a gleam of unholy appreciation in his eyes, but her mother cut in: ‘Oh non, ma chérie—I have been planning the most magnificent wedding for you, as soon as you get back to London.’
‘Maman, Thomas is not allowed to travel for weeks yet, and people will talk, about me staying here so long.’
‘They are already talking, in my humble opinion,’ said Lord Lennox, winking at her behind her mother’s back.
Lady Lennox looked downcast, and Marguerite said, ‘Please don’t be disappointed, Maman.
You can give the most magnificent ball for us, to celebrate our wedding, when we get back to London.
Which will be much more magnificent than a mere wedding breakfast. Meanwhile, we,’ she shot Argyle a warning look, ‘want to get married right here, with Jack as a best man, Mrs Mowat as my attendant, and Flossie and Curtis as witnesses. You can be guests, and—oh, your aunt, Thomas.’
‘Great aunt,’ said His Grace, picturing with glee the formidable old woman’s reaction to the news.
‘I think it is an excellent idea, don’t you, my dear?’ said Lord Lennox, patting his wife’s shoulder. ‘And most amusing. I will see to it at once.’
Lady Lennox smiled and stretched her arms towards her daughter, and Marguerite embraced her, then went to hug her father and kiss him on the cheek.
When they sat back in their chairs, Lady Lennox said, ‘Perhaps you would like to ask your cousin Alice, also? You know she is staying with us, since her parents had to go to the country.’
Marguerite was stricken with guilt. ‘Oh, poor Alice! I had quite forgotten about her. How could I?’
‘You had other things to think about,’ said her father, laughing.
‘One big thing, at any rate.’ She looked at Argyle, and he smiled at her. ‘But you could have brought her today.’
Her mother said, ‘I did not like to, before I had seen you, and the situation here. But she will make a more suitable attendant for you, since I assume Mrs Mowat will be busy preparing the food. And Alice is very fond of you.’
Marguerite said, remembering how Alice always looked out for her, ‘You are so right, Maman. I shall invite Alice, and you can bring her with you.’
‘That is an excellent idea, my love,’ Argyle said. He addressed his future in-laws. ‘And, since everything is now settled, perhaps you would like to partake of the victuals Mrs Mowatt has provided? You will find we are very well looked after here.’
They helped themselves to cold meats and fruit, and Marguerite sliced the cake. When he had tasted the food on his plate, Lord Lennox said to his wife, ‘Well, my dear, you have been worried about your daughter’s welfare—I think this will set your mind at rest.’
‘Mais, mon cher, it was not her food I was worried about—but her state of mind. But I see all is well.’
She smiled at her future son-in-law. Noticing the look in his eyes when he set them upon her daughter, the way Marguerite kept touching his hand, his shoulder or even his hair as she passed behind him, and remembering the proximity of their bedchambers, she became reconciled to a rapid, unusual and, it had to be said, déclassé wedding.
It would not do for the duke’s heir to be born too soon, would it?
She understood her husband’s instant adoption of the idea.
She would get her revenge with a truly magnificent ball.
After their guests had departed, Argyle said, ‘I am discovering that you have impressive powers of organisation, my heart.’
‘I am only legalising the ‘naked in bed’ clause of our relationship, as you have asked—nay, demanded. After the wedding I can spend the night in your bedchamber as often as I like. Even Flossie could not object.’
‘Every night, remember? You promised every night.’
* * *
When Flossie heard the news, she said, ‘Good—you know I disapprove of your goings-on, my lady. But I can tell you now I was not surprised when your mother told me you were engaged. I knew you would marry him the day he took you on that drive. You were so excited that morning—you jumped out of bed.’
‘Well, I did not know it yet, Flossie. You must be omniscient.’ She laughed and hugged her, and wondered what she would say if she knew about the night in the library.
Flossie asked, ‘But did you not want a grand wedding, my lady?’
‘No, Flossie, I only want a quick one.’
‘Just as well, seeing as you and his grace are always kissing and such,’ said Flossie darkly. ‘It is not proper.’
‘Exactly,’ said, Marguerite, dying to ask her if she and Curtis ‘kissed and such.’ However, she desisted, knowing it would embarrass her horribly.
She followed her to the kitchen, where they waited for Mrs Mowat to finish with the breakfasts so they could sit down with cups of tea and discuss the wedding plans.
Mrs Mowat had strong opinions about the food and, since she would be procuring it as well as doing the cooking, Marguerite and Flossie agreed with all her suggestions.
They took on the task of ordering and arranging the flowers, and sent to London for table linen, china and silverware, as well as more of Marguerite’s clothes.
Argyle observed all the fuss with an amused look on his face, sitting quietly in his chair with a book on his lap. With the excuse of needing fresh air, he occasionally extracted Marguerite from the preparations and walked arm in arm with her round the orchard—he was getting stronger all the time.
One afternoon as they strolled under the apple trees he asked her, ‘How is your cousin Alice?’
‘Very well. I received a letter yesterday. Only she is distressed, because her parents are urging her to marry, and she has not had an appealing offer yet. I find it all rather sad.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Girls—obliged to marry people they often don’t like much, because they cannot earn their keep themselves. Unless as a governess, or something of that sort.’
‘Well, you might be marrying someone you like, but you can still earn your keep, should you be so inclined.’
‘I can? How?’
‘My estates take a lot of effort to be run properly, and I would appreciate your help with that.’
A wide smile broke over her face. ‘Do you mean that? Because it would please me exceedingly—to work with you. Although I can foresee some fierce battles.’
‘No, do you think so? I said I was leaving all important decisions to you.’
‘Well, that is all right, then.’ She pressed his arm against her side.
* * *
A huge bouquet of hothouse flowers arrived by special delivery.
Curtis brought it into the parlour saying, ‘This has come for her ladyship, Your Grace.’ Before Marguerite could rise from the sofa where they had been sitting, Argyle sprang up and took it from him.
He opened the card and waited until Curtis had gone out before saying, ‘It is from Aunt Eliza.’
‘Oh, that is so kind of her.’
‘Yes. I was afraid it would be from one of your old admirers.’
‘In which case, it would have meant he was glad to be rid of me. You are so ridiculous, Thomas.’ She took the card from him and read it. ‘I am looking forward to meeting her. But where shall we put it? All the vases I have are full already and I am sure Mrs Mowatt will not have anything suitable.’
‘You must improvise, my love. This has to have pride of place—we do not want to disappoint her.’
Marguerite thought for a moment and then brightened. ‘I know. I will cut the stems and put it in the crystal punch bowl. Sadly, we will not be able to have Mrs Mowatt’s rum punch.’
‘I think champagne, wine, ratafia and…did I not hear you say, lemonade, will be amply sufficient for our limited numbers. You really make an inordinate amount of fuss over the simplest things, my heart.’
‘I want everything to be perfect,’ Marguerite said with dignity, taking the bouquet and leaving the room, her chin held high.
* * *
On the day of the wedding Marguerite chose a gown of ivory silk and lace and picked rosebuds from the bush beside the kitchen door to put in her hair. Flossie and Mrs Mowat made her a posy of white roses, mixed with ivy and rosemary and tied with pink ribbons.
Argyle wore a black coat, a waistcoat embroidered in silver thread and a white silk cravat. His face was still pale and his hair a little long, falling over his forehead and down his neck in unruly curls.
‘You look like a pirate, mon coeur,’ Marguerite said when she saw him.
‘And you look like a fairy princess.’ His rare smile lit up his face. ‘I have won. I have won you.’
‘You have.’ She smiled back at him.
They were standing in the passage outside their bedchambers. He looked at her for a moment, then he said, ‘So, my heart, are you marrying for love, as you wished?’
‘What do you think, Your Grace?’
‘I think you are delicious. I want to rip your bodice open, and put my mouth on your—’
‘Stop! And we not married yet.’ She batted her eyelashes at him. ‘What would Flossie say?’
Flossie, who had helped her mistress get ready and was tidying up, had not heard him, but now she came out of the room and interrupted them. ‘Come, come, your guests are here. And the vicar awaits in the parlour.’
She herded them down the stairs, Curtis following; they were both dressed in their best clothes. Halfway down, they were met by Alice, who ran up to meet them, bearing a slim bandeau sewn with pearls she had brought for her cousin’s hair.
She hugged Marguerite, saying, ‘I am so happy for you, dearest cousin. I could see you were in love with him, even before you knew it yourself.’ She turned to Argyle and said, ‘Congratulations, Your Grace.’
Argyle took her hand and kissed her fingers. He said, ‘Come, we are family now. You must call me Thomas. And thank you, I am the happiest man in England today.’
Flossie, who had been standing by, placed the bandeau deftly in Marguerite’s hair, rearranging the rosebuds; curls framed her face and a few ringlets fell to her shoulders. Then they all made their way down the stairs.