CHAPTER TWO #2
Rosina had noticed the coat of arms on the door of the chaise, and remembered how fortunate she had thought herself to have secured a haven with a peer of the realm.
It must assure her safety, so Gatty had said.
But would her old nurse, to whom she owed so much, have let her go so readily into this had she known of Lord Raith’s unfortunate affliction?
He had told her during their brief sojourn at the inn that, his estates being about twenty miles distant, they would make the journey over two days.
His own horses, it appeared, were stabled at Marton, where he had made a change this morning when he was driven up for the wedding.
He did not wish to put them through a second such journey on the same day.
“Besides, it will be growing dark by the time we arrive there, and it will not be comfortable for you to travel by night. I have secured accommodation at the Bell Inn. It is not the posting house, so we need not risk running the gauntlet of curious eyes.”
Rosina had immediately had a vision of a bedchamber such as the one she had left upstairs, with a bed easily able to accommodate two persons. She had felt herself grow hot, and quickly looked away, forgetting in her agitation to wonder at his not wishing to meet acquaintances.
She thought of it again now, for she had leisure enough to think.
Having stepped up into the coach — electing to sit upon her right hand for a reason which was not hard to seek — the companion of her future life had loosened his bulky drab greatcoat, enquired civilly of his wife whether she was comfortable, and thereafter turned his gaze upon the restricted view from his window.
He was sticking closely to the letter of the agreement, Rosina reflected, for no further word had been spoken inside the carriage.
She was glad he did not expect her to engage in polite conversation.
She would have been hard put to it to think of anything untoward to say.
Their brief acquaintance had already crammed her mind with questions which she would shrink from asking, not least concerning the fearful gash, the unexpectedness of which had thrown her into shock.
To her shame, she felt herself burning with curiosity.
She had forced herself to look at him casually, afraid of betraying herself, but she had wanted badly to stare.
How had he come by it? It was so vicious a blemish.
She could not blame him for concealing it.
Nor for not wishing, as he put it, to endure the gaze of the curious.
Or was it because he was bent upon keeping the manner of their marriage secret?
Rosina supposed that a man might not wish the world to know he had felt himself obliged to advertise for a wife. She had been considerably taken aback upon first seeing the advertisement. Before, that was, she’d had any thought of applying for the position herself.
It had become a ritual for the apothecary’s boy at Hopsford to trudge the half-mile from his employer’s shop to the cottage at Withibrooke where Gatty had taken her in, to bring the Gazette for her. Toly Aughton had befriended poor Gertrude Hoswick some years ago, Gatty had told her.
“It was when I could still see a little, my dove,” had said her old nurse.
“I’d sent to the shop to get something for my rheumatics, I think it was, and Toly brought it over.
Well, when he saw what a sad and sorry state I’d got myself into, not being able to manage quite with the fire and what not, he took pity on me, bless the boy. ”
Rosina had been poring over the newspaper, looking for a post that might suit a woman with few accomplishments and no references, while her old nurse slowly felt her way about the kitchen making a meal of sorts, when her eye had been caught by the oddity of the advertisement.
“Gracious goodness, Gatty, here is a gentleman advertising for a wife!”
At first she had been inclined to be dismissive when her nurse, once the extraordinary announcement had been read out to her, had suggested that perhaps Rosina should write in reply.
“Gatty, are you mad? I have not escaped one tyranny to put myself into another. Why, who knows what sort of a man this person is?”
“You won’t find out, my dove, if you don’t write,” had urged her nurse prosaically. “It may be as he’s perfectly amiable and respectable.”
“A man who is obliged to advertise, Gatty? He cannot be respectable.”
“Could be all kinds of reasons. No harm finding out. It ain’t needful to do more. He won’t know where you are, no more than that other, if you only give the receiving office at Brinklow for your direction. If you don’t wish to take it no further after, that’ll be the end of it.”
“But, Gatty —”
“I know it ain’t what your poor mother would have wished for you, my dove, but things ain’t turned out nowise the way she hoped. And it might be the saving of you.”
Rosina had been sceptical. But the slim chance Gatty could be right persuaded her to do as she suggested.
She wondered now whether they had made a horrible mistake that day.
She glanced across at her lord, and discovered that he had, to all appearances, fallen asleep.
How could she know if she had been wrong?
If she had, it was in that first moment of putting pen to paper.
Because once she had set events in train, she found it hard indeed to halt them, for the opportunity had rapidly become too advantageous to pass up.
To her surprise, she had received, in response to her letter, a request to come for an appointment, her credentials, such as they were, apparently meeting the requirements.
She could not, she thought, have withdrawn at that stage, for curiosity had got the better of her.
Within a matter of days, she found herself travelling the relatively short journey on the stage, for which, to her surprise and gratitude, a ticket was sent, to Banbury, where a clerk met her, and conducted her to the offices of Mr Ottery, situated in the business quarter of the town.
The exterior of the building was pleasant enough.
But after climbing two sets of narrow stairs within, she entered an outer office of chilling formality.
Two further clerks sat writing at desks, which were piled with beribboned parchments and folded documents.
Open bookcases of dark wood, fairly stuffed with voluminous and hefty volumes, groaned against every wall, rendering the atmosphere so dull and gloomy that Rosina felt immediately intimidated.
She was shown directly through into a slightly less austere apartment, where two large windows at least let in light, and a couple of paintings adorned the walls between similarly overburdened bookcases. One was of the hunt, the other a particularly dark portrait with a pair of eerie eyes.
Mr Ottery, with whom she had been corresponding, proved to be a pleasantly avuncular man of middle years, besuited in plain black, with a grey tie-wig atop a friendly face.
He had a kindly smile, and a manner that put Rosina as much at ease as the awkwardness of the situation would allow.
He did what he might to allay her quivering anxiety.
“There is no cause for alarm, ma’am. My client, the gentleman in the case, is merely desirous of gaining access to his fortune.”
Was that all? She had ventured a question. “Must he marry to do so?”
“The inheritance has been so arranged, ma’am, yes.”
“But why?” It slipped out, but she retracted the question at once. “I beg your pardon. It is none of my affair. Only, it seems so odd.”
“Such clauses are not uncommon, ma’am.” Mr Ottery gave a slight smile, his voice dry. “Marriage is thought to have a sobering effect.”
Rosina was betrayed into a laugh. “I hope you would not wish me to understand that the gentleman in question is wild?”
“Quite otherwise.”
This was so cryptic Rosina felt herself tense up again. What sort of man was he, then, that he must needs advertise for a wife? She eyed the lawyer. He was not very forthcoming; he waited rather to see what she might have to say.
She bit her lip and took a determined breath.
If he would not tell her, then she must ask.
“Forgive me, sir, but I do not quite understand. If his only motive is to gain his inheritance, why should the gentlemen use this means of finding a wife? There must be eligible women enough to suit his purpose.”
“There are reasons why my client would not wish to make his choice among the women of his acquaintance.”
So she had supposed. But what were they?
Were all her questions to be treated to evasion?
A hollow opened up inside her, as the enormity of the whole proceeding came home to her.
Had she taken leave of her senses, to be considering this course of action?
She should not have listened to Gatty. For all she knew, the man in question was a monster.
“What is wrong with him?” She blurted the question.
The lawyer looked blank. “I beg your pardon?”
Rosina glanced away, feeling suddenly acutely uncomfortable.
Exposed, as if she were being closely scrutinised.
She brought a hand unconsciously to rub the back of her neck under the chignon that held her black curls in place below the confining cap.
Her gaze darted about the room, and she slid her hand down, clasping it with the other and entwining her fingers.
Mr Ottery’s face came back into view, and she stared at him, hardly aware of what she said, or that her voice was shaking.
“It s-seems logical to s-suppose, sir, that if your client does not wish to marry from his acquaintance, that they must find him in some way … unacceptable.”