Catherine Tinley - Waltzing With The Earl

‘Yes, she has agreed to host. I know she struggles to manage the house at times, but she assures me she is happy to host this party.’

‘Good. May I advise you?’

‘Of course you may. You are, after all, my favourite aunt.’

‘I am your only aunt. Now, do listen, Adam. Mrs Buxted, from what I know of her, is a vain, silly woman who is ambitious for her daughters. She was Louisa Long before her marriage, and those Longs were always a little... Yes, well, she thinks she has triumphed because of the exclusivity of this invitation to Chadcombe. And, in truth, the exclusivity is what is stirring the gossips. If you have truly only invited them—’

‘Godmother, I thank you. I shall immediately invite a dozen eligible ladies and their families to divert suspicion.’

‘No, not a dozen. Poor Miss Langley—! Ah, you are jesting with me again, I see. Yes, do invite others to Chadcombe. And it would be wise to be seen escorting other young ladies as well—perhaps take one to the theatre with her family. That way, if you do choose to court one in particular, you can do so without giving ammunition to the gossips. But, Adam, listen to me now. Things have changed. In these modern times you do not have to marry out of duty. Better marry for love.’

‘Love?’ He laughed. ‘I have no desire to spout poetry and daydream of a lady’s fine eyes...’

He paused, then shook his head as if to rid himself of something.

‘I just want to find a sensible girl who won’t give me any trouble. I must think of the estate. We are in need of money, so I must marry well. The Buxted family owns Monkton Park, which would be a good addition to Chadcombe, and the mother rather clumsily informed me it is dowried on one of the daughters. On the other hand, Miss Etherington has a large dowry, which would boost our funds. And there is another lady—but I do not know what her fortune is.’

‘But, Adam, you have done well with the estate since your father died. Don’t forget that the woman you marry will be by your side till death parts you. You must think of that when you choose to marry.’

‘My problem, Godmama, is that I have never yet met a lady—apart from you, of course—who did not bore me or irritate me within a month of knowing her. And marrying to suit myself is not an option if it causes harm to my family.’

* * *

The Earl took his leave shortly afterwards, leaving his aunt in pensive mood. She lay down on her sofa again to think. Adam had had relationships with women of a certain class, she knew—for the ton knew everything—but she had never heard of him losing his heart.

He was popular with ladies—the older ones responded to his serious nature, the younger ones liked his handsome face and figure—but he always held a certain reserve. He was used to seeking the company of his friends, and had never, to Sophia’s knowledge, engaged in a true friendship with any lady. Adam, like many men, saw ladies as decorative irritations, to be tolerated and enjoyed.

Some young ladies, Sophia acknowledged, did not help matters with their behaviour. And the Marriage Mart itself encouraged young ladies to flirt and be silly to attract attention. She sighed. If Adam was to marry now, one of the simpering misses he so disdained, the marriage would be a disaster.

In this, his sense of duty would work against him. He had been raised with a love of Chadcombe, and the knowledge that when his father was gone the responsibility for the people and the place would pass to him. It had always made him more cautious, more sober—older than his years.

He had not, until now, shown a particular interest in any young lady. That, she guessed, was why the gossips were so fascinated by his attentions towards the Buxteds.

She knew the Buxted family a little, but not well. The mother had managed to engineer a formal introduction last night, so Sophia could now acknowledge them, which would allow her to find out more. Adam had not denied being interested in Miss Buxted, so Sophia needed to meet her—and quickly. She was not at all convinced that the girl she had met last night would make a suitable countess, or that Adam should have Louisa Long for a mother-in-law.

To call on them would be too obvious, drawing exactly the sort of attention she had just warned Adam about. She would have to find another way...

She was still trying to think of how she would manage it when sleep again claimed her.

* * *

Charlotte returned to the house after her usual morning walk, wondering if the ladies were still abed.

‘Thank you, Sarah,’ she said to the housemaid who had accompanied her.

Sarah had informed her that the Buxted ladies had returned late into the night, and that the night footman had reported downstairs that the ladies had been in raptures over their success.

Hearing this, Charlotte had not known whether to be glad or sorry. Of course she wanted her cousins and her aunt to enjoy themselves—and she hoped Henrietta would be easier company today—but some selfish part of her had wanted to hear that the evening had been flat, or dull, or that nobody had danced.

Scolding herself for such uncharitable thoughts, she went to the breakfast parlour—a small, bright room where she found all three ladies indulging in a light nuncheon of rolls, fruit and cold meat.

‘Oh, Charlotte, there you are. Where have you been?’ Mrs Buxted looked her usual calm self, but she had a self-satisfied air, sitting upright and smiling benevolently on her daughters.

‘Walking, Aunt Buxted. You recall that I ride or walk every morning if I can—though today I was later than usual, as I was waiting for Sarah to accompany me and she was on an errand for Cook.’

Aunt Buxted was only half listening. ‘Yes, yes...do not ever go unaccompanied. You are living under my husband’s roof, and anything you do reflects on us. Sit here, girl, and pass me the beef.’

‘Yes, Aunt. How was your evening?’

‘A triumph! My girls were a great success. I declare they hardly sat down all night, for they danced almost every dance. And Lord Shalford and his brother were most attentive.’

‘Oh, Mama! Did you see Millicent Etherington looking at me when I was dancing with the Earl? She must be so jealous that he accompanied us and not her to the ball. And he only danced with her because he couldn’t dance with me all night.’

‘He danced with Beatrice Ross too.’

‘Yes, Faith—which proves what I just said. He danced with four different ladies, but he came here for dinner—and they all knew it.’

‘Did you dance, Faith?’

‘Yes, I danced with Mr Foxley, and the Captain, and the Earl.’ She smiled shyly. ‘I had a wonderful evening. I do feel tired today, though. I am not accustomed to so much dancing.’

Charlotte smiled back at her as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

‘Well, you should remember it, Faith,’ said her sister, ‘for it may not happen for you again. There will be nights when you may have to sit and watch. Of course I am rarely short of partners.’

‘I was also busy on your behalf, girls,’ said Mrs Buxted. ‘I was introduced to Lady Annesley last night.’

Her announcement did not have the desired effect. All three young ladies looked at her blankly.

‘Who is Lady Annesley, Mama?’ asked Henrietta.

‘If you had properly studied the copy of Mr Debrett’s book I gave you, you would know exactly who she is.’

Henrietta squirmed slightly, while Faith looked anxious.

Mrs Buxted tutted, then told them. ‘She is Shalford’s aunt—his father’s sister. He is, they say, extremely close to her.’

‘Yes...?’ Henrietta looked confused. ‘And why should we be interested in her?’

‘You are very stupid today, Henrietta. She will influence him.’ Mrs Buxted applied herself to her beef. ‘Why, in my day it was the families who decided who would marry whom. None of this nonsense of allowing young people to choose. I hardly knew Mr Buxted when we were wed, but I submitted, as a dutiful daughter must, to my parents’ wishes.’