Meg Alexander - The Reluctant Bride

Sir James looked shocked. “My dear, there is surely no need for that? I thought that Martha…”

“Martha is an excellent housemaid, but she has no gift for cooking. My own efforts are in self-defence, and it is not so very difficult. Hester has brought me a copy of Mrs Rundle’s book, and I follow it to the letter.”

“Even so, it is an unsuitable task for you. I’ll send someone over from the Hall.”

“No, please! I beg that you will not. We are too much in your debt already…”

“I wish I could do more. You shall have coals, and food of course, and the use of a carriage when you need it. I’m sorry about the house in London, but the rent was beyond my means, otherwise you might have finished your Season…That I do regret.”

“Please don’t. How could we have stayed? After Father’s death, rumour alone would have driven us away. It would have been unthinkable.”

Sir James regarded her set expression with unease. How much had she heard? He’d done his best to protect his wife’s family from the worst of the London gossip, but rumour had raced through the Ton like wildfire, and had lost nothing in the telling.

Even without it India had been badly hurt. Described always as “the child of his heart,” she had been her father’s favourite, and to her he had seemed a godlike creature. Now her uncle sensed that much of her anger towards Lord Isham stemmed from that hurt, and the realisation that her idol had feet of clay. Gareth Rushford’s death had come as a shock to all of his family, but what had followed had been worse.

Damn the fellow, Sir James thought savagely. He had known for years that that charmer’s carefree lifestyle had rested upon a pyramid of debt. It had taken only that fatal evening at White’s to bring the whole edifice crashing down. The result had crushed his family.

Now India spoke with difficulty. “Have you heard nothing more? About the accident, I mean?”

“Nothing!” her uncle said mendaciously. India must never learn the truth. Gossip had not lied, as he had taken the trouble to find out. Knowing that he was ruined, Rushford had stayed on at the club, drinking heavily. In the early hours of the morning he had staggered out of White’s and into St James’s Street. Would they ever discover if that lurch into the path of a racing curricle had been deliberate? He himself suspected it. Had Rushford tried to spare his family the shame of an obvious suicide? Perhaps. As it was he had died instantly beneath the flying hooves.

There was little he could say to comfort his niece, but he tried. “It was very dark, you know, my dear. We suspect that your father did not see the carriage until it was upon him. At least he did not suffer.”

“Even so…I wonder that he did not hear the horses. It is very strange…”

“My dear child, you must not torture yourself. Perhaps your papa was thinking of something else…”

“His gambling debts? Oh, Uncle, how I hate the practice! It should be outlawed…”

“There, at least, we are in agreement, India. As you must know, my own estate is heavily encumbered and has been so since my grandfather’s day. He had to sell much of it to settle his losses at cards. I have been trying to buy it back, a little at a time.”

“I know it,” she cried warmly. “Hester has told me how you’ve struggled. It is selfish of me to think only of our own concerns, but I cannot help wondering how men can risk their substance upon the turn of a card.”

“Not only men, my dear. It is the vice of our time, and the ladies play their part. You must have seen it when you were in London.”

“I didn’t pay much attention,” she confessed. “There were so many other things to do. It was one long round of parties, balls and concerts…”

Sir James’s hand reached out to her. “Your life now will be very different,” he said sadly. “Tell me now…during your Season, was there no one…I mean…?”

“You mean did anyone offer for me?” For the first time India managed a slight smile. “No, they did not. Uncle, look at me! In the first place I am much too tall. I towered over most of the men who danced with me. And then, you know, I cannot be described as ethereal. I believe that statuesque is the kindest word. My hair is not exactly carrotty-red, but it is certainly a ruddy chestnut, and blue eyes are much preferred to hazel.”

Sir James smiled his dissent, and India dimpled. “I did, however, create one sensation,” she admitted. “I had the misfortune to offend George Brummell, who promptly snubbed me. I was expected to be crushed, but I’m afraid I laughed aloud. He won’t forgive me for it.”

“You seem to have borne that fate with fortitude,” Sir James said drily. “He is another, I fear, who lives beyond his means.”

India was silent. That last remark was much too close to home.

Her uncle sensed it and made haste to change the subject.

“How is Letty?” he enquired. “I hope that she is a comfort to you at this time.”

“She is upset, but not because of our losses. Letty is in love. We had hoped that Oliver Wells would offer for her, but now? Well, I don’t know.”

“Wells?” Sir James considered for a moment. “One of the Wells of Bristol? Money can be of no consideration there, so it cannot signify if Letty has no portion. I married for love myself, you know…”

“I know it, Uncle dear, but Oliver is a younger son and his mother is as proud as Lucifer. She is hoping for a splendid match for him. Now Letty has sent word that all must be at an end between them. She tries to hide it, but I know how sad she feels.”

“And your brother? Where is Giles? I had hoped to find him here with you today. There is so much to be decided. Have you news of him?”

“Giles is gone into Derbyshire,” India faltered. “He stays with the Cromfords. It was a long-standing invitation…”

“Indeed!” Sir James’s voice was stiff with disapproval. “The invitation might have been declined. His place is here with you.” He did not trouble to hide his anger. His fear always was that Giles might follow in his father’s footsteps.

India bit her tongue, though her instinct was to fly at once to her brother’s defence. She was saved from further strictures upon his conduct when Letty entered the room.

Her sister looked pale and tired, but she managed a smile for her uncle. Then she turned to India.

“The doctor has gone up to Mama,” she murmured. “I caught him as he was about to start his rounds, and he brought me back at once.”

“Good!” India smiled encouragement at the younger girl. “Mama needs rest above anything. Then, when she is feeling better, we shall tell her of our plans.”

“What plans are these?” Sir James bent a keen gaze on his nieces, thinking as he did so that they could not have been less alike. No one would imagine that they were so closely related.

Letty was a full head shorter than her sister, and so slender as to appear almost elfin. That look was emphasised by her crop of fashionably short blonde curls atop a pair of dark blue eyes. A beauty, he decided, but to his mind India cast her into the shade.

Beside those of the younger girl, India’s looks were striking. There was character in that face, with its strong jaw and noble brow. The much-despised auburn hair was drawn back smoothly into a chignon, beneath which surprisingly fine black eyebrows soared above the great hazel eyes, framed as they were by sooty lashes.

Sir James smiled to himself. India had no trace of vanity, believing herself to be so plain.

Yet in one respect she had seized correctly upon the reason for her lack of offers. Even at first glance it must be clear to the most casual observer that this was a woman to be reckoned with. There was resolution in those sweetly curving lips, and a stubborn tilt to her chin. He sighed. Such qualities were scarcely at a premium in the marriage market. As a wife India was unlikely to be biddable.