Meg Alexander - The Reluctant Bride

“I believe that on occasion you have the use of Sir James’s carriage?” he persisted. “May I beg you not to use it after dusk?”

India stiffened. She was not yet Lord Isham’s wife. Why should he think it proper to dictate to her? She would go out as she wished.

He saw her look, smiled, and shook his head, but then his face grew grave. “There is good reason for my warning, India. You have not heard of the unrest?”

“No,” she answered in surprise. “What is that, my lord?”

“There is disaffection in this area, and it is growing. Certain men are banding together in large groups. They roam abroad at night, smashing machinery and burning factories.”

“But why? Who are they?”

“They are mostly labourers from the framework knitting industry.”

“But why destroy their means of livelihood?”

“That livelihood is almost non-existent now, I fear. The war with France has reduced demand for their stockings and export of Midlands cotton goods has fallen by a third. The harvest has been poor this year and food prices are extremely high. On reduced wages they cannot afford to eat. Half the local population is on public relief.”

“Then one can hardly blame them,” India cried.

“Their despair is understandable, my dear, but their actions cannot be condoned. The mood is ugly, they are heavily armed with muskets, pistols and hatchets. And there has been at least one death.”

India gasped. “We have heard nothing of this,” she said slowly. “But Anthony, they could have no reason to attack a private carriage. We ourselves do not go out at night, but both our uncles come to visit us.”

If Isham was pleased that she had used his given name of her own accord he gave no sign of it.

“I have no wish to frighten you,” he told her gently. “Yet a mob is sometimes carried away with a strange energy of its own. It needs only a core of hotheads; even a few will serve to whip the others to a frenzy. Then the original reasons for their actions are forgotten. Anyone may become a target.”

She shuddered, but he took her hand and pressed it. “You will be safe indoors,” he comforted. “And to date they have not ventured forth in daylight.”

Once again he raised her fingers to his lips. And this time she did not draw away until he took a step towards her. India stood very still. Pray heaven he would not try to embrace her. He was a stranger still. She would need more time to grow accustomed to this man who had come so unexpectedly into her quiet life. Yet again his curious antennae warned him of her feelings. He merely bowed and released her hand.

India felt like a gauche schoolgirl. Would she ever be at ease with him? He was unlike anyone she had met before. In his presence she was aware of the raw power beneath his formal manner. Charm and courtesy could not disguise it. She was about to marry a dangerous man.

He gave her no time to ponder further. With a brief word of farewell he took his leave.

They had expected no more visitors that day, but Isham had not been gone above an hour when Sir James Perceval arrived. He hurried into the parlour eager to hear their news.

“Well, my dears,” he said expectantly. “How did you go on with Isham?”

“Oh, James, such news!” Isabel Rushford could not hide her delight. “India is to wed his lordship!”

Sir James took India in his arms and kissed her soundly. “Well done, my child! Isham is a lucky man, and as for yourself, you could not have chosen a better.”

Forcing a smile, India thanked him. She was not surprised when he turned to her mama. “If only Hester had some of India’s good sense,” he mourned. “Now, perhaps, as India is betrothed, she will try to persuade my wilful daughter to follow her example.”

Wisely, Isabel said nothing. There was no love lost between herself and this particular niece. India might be difficult at times, but she was a paragon of obedience compared with Hester. She considered privately that the girl had been indulged beyond reason. Now there was no controlling her.

“Well, India, what do you say?” Sir James looked anxious. “Will you speak to her?”

“With pleasure, Uncle, but I cannot promise that she will pay me any heed.” India smiled up at him.

Hester was her dearest friend, but she made no secret of her views on marriage. She would be no man’s chattel. The news of India’s betrothal would bring her to Lilac Cottage at the first opportunity. India was sure of it.

She was not mistaken. On the following morning Hester was announced and, characteristically, she did not beat about the bush.

“What’s this I hear?” she demanded. “Father tells us that you are to be wed.”

“It’s true!” India coloured. “Oh, Hester, I had meant to come and explain to you myself, but it wasn’t possible.”

“I can imagine!” Hester said drily. “It came as a shock to all of us. We had no idea, you see.”

“Nor had I.”

Hester studied her cousin’s face intently. “Then it is as I thought? You were coerced into taking Isham?”

“Not exactly. I made the decision myself.”

“Helped, I make no doubt, by the threat of hysterics?” Hester’s opinion of Mrs Rushford matched that lady’s dislike of her. “India, this is too important for you to be swayed in such a way. We are speaking of your entire future. Forgive me if I am too outspoken, but I care about your happiness.”

“I know it, Hester dear, but let me explain. Mama was for the match, of course, but your father too approved of it.”

“He would. Dear Father! He sees no other course for any woman as far as security is concerned.” Hester was indignant, but then her expression softened, and she smiled. “I fear my parents are biased. Theirs was a love match, as you know. They have been so happy together. I cannot blame them for wanting the same for others, but you can imagine the pressure put on me to wed. I’m sorry for their distress, but I won’t agree.”

“Your case is different,” India said quietly. “There is not the same necessity for you to earn a living.”

“I may have to,” Hester laughed. “Should Father try to marry me off against my will I intend to run away.”

India returned her cousin’s smile. “That will never happen and you know it. Both your parents adore you.”

“That affection might be strained if I continue to argue for women to have freedom of choice. Yet look at the case of our missing Marchioness. Tell me, if you can, under what compulsion did Louise Hanslope agree to marry an ancient roué three times her age? There’s a fate that my father would never have forced on me, nor even your mother on you. You have heard nothing more as to her whereabouts?”

“Not a word. Have you?”

“I’ve heard a good deal of speculation. You may take your choice of a murder committed by the Marquis, or elopement with a paramour.”

“Most probably she just fled. Her life must have been a living hell.” India turned away to hide her own sadness.

Hester saw it and returned to the matter in hand. “Why are we discussing the Marchioness?” she demanded. “What of you? Have you really accepted Isham?”

“I have, but it is not quite what you think. There was so much to consider. I gave it a good deal of thought. Your father cannot continue to support us…”

“Stuff!” Hester exploded. “He would do so willingly. What is more, he would not forgive himself if he thought such a consideration had influenced your decision.”

India looked steadily at her friend. “Will you tell me the truth?” she asked. “I believe that our assets were not enough to cover the debt to Isham. Did Uncle find the balance?”

Hester would not meet her eyes, but neither would she lie. “There was some talk of it,” she admitted uncomfortably. “But it is no great matter.”