Julia Justiss - A Most Unsuitable Match

‘But you, darling Sis,’ she said, turning back to Prudence, ‘ should go to Bath. And I hope with all my heart you will find there what you are seeking.’

‘You are adamant about remaining in London?’ Aunt Gussie asked Temperance.

‘Much as I will miss Pru, yes, I am.’

‘I’d prefer if you could get Temper out of my hair, too, until this fracas dies down,’ Gregory said to Aunt Gussie, ignoring the face Temperance made at him. ‘But if you can at least take Prudence out of harm’s way, I’ll appreciate it. So the two of you will pack up and leave for Bath as soon as possible?’

‘We will. And hope to find her that agreeable gentleman,’ Lady Stoneway said, with a fond look at Pru.

The very possibility helping her crushed hopes revive, Prudence said, ‘That would be wonderful!’

‘Be careful what you wish for, dear Sis,’ Temperance warned.

With the family conference ended and their aunt returning to her own home, Prudence and Temperance walked arm in arm back up to their chamber. ‘Are you sure I can’t coax you to come with us? We’ve never been apart! I shall feel so lost without you,’ Pru said, the reality of being without her twin beginning to sink in with dismaying clarity.

She soothed herself with the thought that, painful as their parting would be, at the end of a sojourn in Bath might be new love and support—from a husband. And unlike the twin, who despite her protests to the contrary, must some day marry and leave her, he would love and support her for ever.

‘I shall miss your cautious voice warning me against taking some impulsive and usually rash action,’ Temper was saying, smiling at her. ‘I do think it’s a good idea for Aunt Gussie to take you away, though. Leave London, where, after this latest contretemps, we’re bound to be pointed out and stared at wherever we go.’

Prudence groaned, the truth of that statement bringing a surge of the resentment and prickly discomfort she always felt when going out into public view. ‘Thank you for the reminder. I shall avoid the modiste and finish obtaining any necessary gowns in Bath. It was bad enough last week.’

Temperance laughed caustically. ‘Ah, yes, last week, at Madame Emilie’s. When that whey-faced little heiress kept staring at us?’

‘Very subtle, wasn’t she?’ Pru said, sarcasm lacing her voice. ‘She could hardly wait for us to disappear behind the curtains for our fitting before asking in a horrified “whisper” that could be heard by every shopper in the establishment, “so those are the Scandal Sisters”!’

‘If I hadn’t been clad only in my chemise at that moment, I would have popped out, bowed like an opera dancer taking an encore and cried, “Voila, c’est nous!” ’

‘Whereas I would rather have left by the back door.’

‘Only to sneak into the chit’s bedchamber that night and strangle her in her sleep?’ Temper suggested with a grin.

Pru laughed. ‘The notion does appeal. Oh, Temper, I wish I could face it with humour, like you do. But it just grates on me like nails on a slate and all I want is to be rid of it! The scandal, the notoriety, the whispers behind the hands whenever we walk into a room. Oh, to become Mrs Somebody Else, wife of a well-respected man and resident of some small estate far, far from London! Where I can stroll through a nearby village whose residents have never heard of “the Scandal Sisters”, able to hold my head high and be talked about only for my...my lovely babies and my garden!’

‘With a husband who dotes on you, who never tires of hugging you and kissing you and cuddling you on his knee...instead of a father who barely tolerates a handshake.’

Both girls sighed, wordlessly sharing the same bitter memory of years of trying and failing to win the affection of a man who preferred keeping them—and, to be fair, everyone else, including his wife—at a distance. Though Temper persisted in approaching Papa, Pru had given up the attempt.

‘I don’t expect to find the kind of radiant joy Christopher has with his Ellie,’ Pru said softly. ‘All I long for is a quiet gentleman who has affection for me, as a woman and his wife, not a...a relic of infamy and scandal. Who wants to create a family that treats each member with tenderness.’

‘A family like we’ve never had,’ Temper said wryly.

That observation needing no response, Pru continued, ‘To a man like that, I could give all my love and devotion.’

‘Then he would be the luckiest man in England!’ Opening the chamber door, she waved Pru into the room. ‘I shall pray that you discover in Bath the eminently respectable country gentlemen you long for. That he’ll ask you to marry him, settle on his remote estate and give you a flock of beautiful children for me to spoil. Now, we’d better look through your wardrobe and see how many more gowns you’ll need to commission in Bath so you can dazzle this paragon.’

Three weeks later, Lieutenant Lord John Trethwell, youngest son of the late Marquess of Barkley and recently returned from the 2nd (Queen’s Royal) Regiment of Foot in India, limped beside his great-aunt, Lady Woodlings, down a path in Bath’s Sidney Gardens. ‘Ah,’ he said after drawing in a deep breath, ‘Bath in the spring!’

‘It is lovely,’ his aunt said as he helped her to a seat on a convenient bench. ‘Though it doesn’t offer quite the fleshly amusements a jaded adventurer like you might prefer,’ she added, punctuating her reproof with a whack of her cane against his knee.

Surprised into a grunt, he rubbed the affected leg. ‘How unsporting, to strike an injured man.’

For a moment, his aunt looked concerned. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘Just teasing, Aunt Pen,’ he reassured her. ‘No harm done. But you malign me, assuming I mock the beauty of April in Bath. After blistering tropical heat, and jungle fevers, and pursuit by hostile natives, it is a soothing balm to return to the cool, tranquil beauty of England.’

His aunt studied his face, probably searching for the lines of pain he tried to conceal. ‘ Are you recovering, Johnnie? You still have that dashed limp.’

‘I’ll be rid of it in good time,’ he replied, hoping he spoke the truth.

‘As you’re going to be rid of the army? You know I hope to coax you into remaining in England, don’t you?’

Johnnie shrugged, ignoring her last comment to reply, ‘I’m done with the army, for sure. After seven years, I’ve had enough of restrictive rules not to my liking and kowtowing to some jumped-up Cit whose father paid to have him made a Company official.’

‘Jumped-up Cits, eh?’ His aunt chuckled. ‘Blood will tell and yours is the bluest! Much as you’ve tried to distance yourself from your family! Not that I blame you. Idiots, most of them.’

‘I never set out to distance myself,’ he corrected, grinning. ‘But with all his building projects, trying to make Barkley’s Hundred the equal of Blenheim, Papa had virtually bankrupted the estate even before Robert inherited. With dowries for the girls—’

‘And the profligate habits of your other three brothers.’

‘There was left little enough for the youngest son. I didn’t want to be a further drain on Robert’s slender resources—then or now. Once I leave the army, I must have another way to earn my bread.’

‘You know the best way to do it.’

‘You’d have me to find a rich woman to marry. ‘

‘Marrying a rich woman has been the alternative of choice for well-born but indigent younger sons for centuries—and a much safer alternative than trekking off to barter for treasure in foreign lands, as you propose to do! You might not possess a title, but your breeding can’t be faulted.’