Gail Whitiker - Improper Miss Darling

‘Ha! I’d as soon spit in her eye as see her sit at my son’s table. But Harrow has confined me to bed for a few days so I won’t be able to go regardless. But you know what’s what, Alex. You know we can’t allow this marriage to take place.’

‘It may be out of our hands. Have you spoken to Peter recently?’

‘What’s the point?’ The earl’s face twisted. ‘He says he loves her and that’s all there is to it. But we both know he’s marrying beneath himself. And mark my words, he’ll live to regret it.’

Alex decided not to address that for the moment. Marriages between mismatched social partners often did work out, but it wasn’t easy and it usually required a considerable degree of sacrifice on one part or the other. ‘Do you know anything about the girl?’ he asked instead.

‘Not yet, though I’ve engaged someone to make enquiries. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘If there’s bad blood in the family, I want to know about it before my son puts a ring on her finger!’

‘It is possible you’re exaggerating things, sir,’ Alex said. ‘She may be a perfectly charming young woman.’

‘Really? Have you ever heard of the Darlings of Little Moreton? No, I thought not. Mark my words, she’s after his money and an easy life. Peter won’t believe that, of course. Reading his letter, you’d think she was an angel from heaven complete with fairy wings and a blasted halo! But I’ll wager she’s a common little chit with no breeding and bad manners. Pretty, but not at all suitable to being the wife of a Taylor.’

And that’s really what it all came down to, Alex reflected drily. The appropriateness of the ladies his sons wished to marry. ‘Well, I’ll do what I can, but you should be prepared for the worst,’ Alex said, getting to his feet. ‘Peter’s sensible enough to make up his own mind—’

‘No man’s sensible when it comes to women,’ his father interrupted. ‘That’s why I’m so proud of you, Alex. You take your obligations seriously. Always have. Lady Glynnis Pettle is precisely the sort of woman your brother should be marrying. A woman who knows her place in society. One you’ll never have to worry about. She’s an earl’s daughter, after all.’

Alex smiled. ‘Yes, she is, but she’s also a good friend and has been for a long time. As to the other matter, I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.’

‘I have faith in you, my boy,’ his father said. ‘You’ve been a good and dutiful son all your life. You’ve never once given me any reason to doubt you. If anyone is going to be able to resolve this mess and make Peter listen to sense, it’s you.’

Ellingsworth Hall was an exquisite Elizabethan house perched prettily on the edge of a vast wood. Unlike many such grand houses, it had not been ruined by tasteless additions thrust upon it by succeeding generations; but had retained the dignity of its origins, the mellow gold stone reflecting warmth and welcome to all who came near.

‘The formal gardens in the back are exceptionally lovely,’ Linette said as the carriage drew to a halt under the portico. ‘Mr Taylor took me for a walk through them last week. He was remarkably knowledgeable about the names of the flowers. I just said they were all very pretty and that my sister would create the most beautiful arrangements if she had such a garden to draw upon.’

Emma smiled, silently adding botanist to the growing list of her future brother-in-law’s accomplishments. ‘I am content with the selection I have in our own gardens, Linette, but I suspect you will be grateful for the variety. The need for flower arrangements will be that much greater in a house the size of Ellingsworth.’

‘Without question,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Mrs Connelly told me the house has twenty-seven rooms, including twelve bedrooms.’

And Mrs Connelly would know, Emma thought drily. The wife of the local squire made it her business to know everything that went on in Little Moreton. In a bucolic village where the arrival of the post was the most exciting thing to happen in a day, the upcoming marriage of a peer’s son to a local girl must have seemed like manna from heaven.

‘Can this really be happening, Emma?’ Linette asked in a voice of wonder. ‘Or shall I wake up to find that it has all been a dream?’

‘I certainly hope it is not a dream,’ Emma said. ‘Otherwise I shall have expended a great deal of time and effort getting dressed, and all for nothing.’

‘It is never a waste of time to make oneself look pretty, Emma,’ Aunt Dorothy chided. ‘On such an auspicious occasion, we must all try to look our very best. Even your father has made more of an effort than usual.’

‘I have made no more or less of an effort than I would have for any other occasion,’ Mr Darling objected.

‘Nonsense, Percy, you look quite the thing in your new mulberry jacket. And I do like the way Jenks has tied your cravat. Simple, yet elegant. The hallmark of a gentleman.’

Emma smiled, aware that how they looked would likely be of secondary importance to how they behaved. They were about to meet the Earl and Countess of Widdicombe, two of society’s most illustrious and influential members. Lord Widdicombe sat in the House of Lords and Lady Widdicombe was a close confidant of the patronesses of Almack’s. They owned an elegant town house in London, a sprawling estate in Kent, and likely several other establishments with which Emma was not familiar.

By contrast, Emma’s father was a former tutor and her late mother was the daughter of a well-to-do merchant. They had acquired Dove’s Hollow upon the demise of Mr Darling’s older brother, Cyril, who had apparently won the house and all its contents at the faro table. After Cyril’s unfortunate death in a drunken brawl, the house had passed to Emma’s father, who had been only too delighted to move his young family in and take up the life of a gentleman. They were not well travelled, did not go regularly to the theatre or museums, and though Emma had been to London once, she had not been formally presented at Court, having had no one to sponsor her or cover the costs of a Season.

Still, at least they made a presentable party as they climbed the steps to the front door of the house her sister would soon be calling home. Aunt Dorothy was wearing a stylish new gown of terre d’Eygpt sarsenet, Linette was radiant in white muslin trimmed with double bands of gold embroidery and Emma’s own gown was a shade of pale green she knew to be flattering to her dark hair and fair complexion.

Nevertheless, she was thankful she was not the one who would have to bear the brunt of the scrutiny tonight. This evening, she was simply a bystander. She would support her sister in every way she could, but if the earl and countess took it into their heads to be disdainful, she suspected there would be little any of them could do but smile as bravely as they could and count the minutes until it was all over.

They were greeted at the door by a tall and rather impressive-looking butler and shown into the elaborate Chinese drawing room. Linette had already informed them that Mr Taylor intended on having all of the reception rooms redone and that he had decided to start with this, the largest of the saloons. Emma, whose eye was always drawn to line and colour, paused on the threshold, impressed by the elegant proportions and by the deep crimson and gold colour scheme. Fire-breathing dragons and sword-wielding warriors were prominent throughout the room and the furnishings were Oriental in design. Two magnificent black-lacquer cabinets with ornate battle scenes hand painted in gold and crimson stood on either side of the long window.