Sylvia Andrew - An Unreasonable Match

“Did you say Hugo has been in Cambridge, Miss Perceval? I thought he was in Gloucestershire with the Beaufort?”

“He is. We are meeting my other brother. My younger brother, Lowell. He should be here at any moment.”

Reminded of their favourite’s imminent arrival, the girls went to look out of the window. Hester and Dungarran were left by the fire. Hester felt she must break the uncomfortable silence that followed.

“Are you staying in the district?” she asked stiffly. “Althorp, perhaps?”

“Er…no. I was at my own place in Leicestershire, but the weather hasn’t been good for hunting. I’ve decided to return to London. I’ve things to do there.”

Hester took a sip of her wine, and turned away to look at the girls. Why didn’t Lowell come? It was impossible to sustain a casual conversation with this man. Yet it would be humiliating if he was reminded of the girl she had been six years ago—scornful of small talk, determined to discuss serious matters of state and politics, inept and unskilled in the manners of society…And, for a short while, stupidly in love with him. Her cheeks grew warm with shame and resentment at the memory of their last encounter. How she had hated him after that…!

“I hope the coach is not delayed by the weather. Would you like me to make enquiries?”

Hester pulled herself together and spoke as civilly as she could. “Thank you, but we were early. It wasn’t due before the hour. But please—you mustn’t let us delay you. We are quite safe and comfortable here. The landlord is an old friend.”

“So I have observed. Very well, I shall finish my ale, and then be on my way.”

She was hard put to it to disguise her relief. Though the violent emotions of six years before had long been mastered and then forgotten, she still disliked and distrusted this man. She would be glad to see him go. Unfortunately, at that moment Henrietta scrambled from the window-seat and ran to the door, calling Lowell’s name. Hester sighed. Dungarran would now be bound to stay a short while longer.

“But I think I know your brother already, Miss Perceval,” he said when she had introduced them. He turned to Lowell. “I’ve seen you at White’s with Hugo, but we didn’t have an opportunity to speak. But tell me, are you still up at Cambridge?”

Lowell flushed with pleasure at this evidence that the great man had taken notice of him. “No, I came down some time ago,” he replied. “But I still have friends there. In fact I’ve just been arranging to share rooms with one of them when he comes to London in the spring. At the moment I’m living at Hugo’s lodgings when I’m in town.”

“Why haven’t we met more often?”

“Oh, Hugo’s mode of life is a touch above mine, Lord Dungarran. We each go our own way.”

Dungarran nodded. “All the same, we must meet again in London.”

In spite of her unease, Hester was amused at her brother’s efforts to imitate the elegance of Dungarran’s manner—Lowell was normally loudly self-confident, boisterous even. It was proof, if any were needed, of Dungarran’s status in the closed world of London society. But the next moment she was horrified to hear her brother say somewhat shyly, “Are you staying long in Northampton, sir? I am sure my family would be pleased to receive you at Abbot Quincey.”

She breathed again when she heard Dungarran expressing regret that he had to be on his way. “I merely called in at the Receiving Office here. I had some enquiries to make. Miss Perceval, it was a pleasure to meet you again. Will you be joining your cousin in London for the Season?”

This harmless question roused a storm of protest in Hester’s breast but she replied calmly. “I am not sure, but I doubt it, Lord Dungarran. There’s…there’s always so much to occupy me at Abbot Quincey.” Then, she could not help adding, “I’m sure you will be kind to Robina—she is very young.”

He gave her a sharp look then bowed, took smiling leave of the rest and left. Hester breathed a huge sigh of relief and prepared to gather her party together for the journey home.

Later, after they had deposited the three girls at the Vicarage in Abbot Quincey and were rolling up the drive to Perceval Hall, Lowell said, “He’s a great chap, Hester.”

“Please, Lowell, can we now leave the subject of Dungarran! Ever since we left Northampton the girls have talked of nothing but the polish of his address, the attraction of his looks, the elegance of his clothes, till I was sick of hearing his name. Surely there are more interesting topics of conversation?”

Lowell looked curiously at her. “Come, it wasn’t as bad as all that. I thought they talked quite as much about their shopping, and the dresses they were having made. What’s wrong, Hes?”

Hester could not reply. The unexpected encounter with Dungarran had stirred up feelings she thought she had conquered years before. Anger and humiliation were choking her, six years’ peaceful reconstruction of her pride and confidence were momentarily forgotten. Lowell waited patiently. He and Hester were very close. With just one year between them, they had always been allies, both fond of Hugo, their elder brother, but both somewhat in awe of him. It was natural enough—Hugo was five years older, a born leader, a touch autocratic, rather conscious of his position as the eldest of all the Perceval children, cousins included. When Hugo went off to London, the two younger ones had become even closer. Hester defended Lowell whenever one of his mad escapades had drawn his parents’ wrath down on his head. And when Hester had come back from London in disgrace Lowell had been her chief support.

They were almost at the house before Hester said finally, “I’m sorry, Lowell. Seeing Dungarran again reminded me of London. It’s wrong to allow myself to be so affected after all these years. I apologise.”

“There’s no need for that. But since you mention London…What did you mean when you told him you weren’t going there this year? Has Mama given in?”

“Not yet. But I’m still hoping.”

“I doubt she’ll change her mind. And if she did, Papa would still have to be convinced. They seem set on giving you another Season, Hes.”

“It’s absurd!” said Hester forcefully. “There’s only one reason for taking an unmarried daughter to London for the Season. And since I neither need nor want a husband, the whole exercise will be a waste of money—money the estate can ill afford!”

Lowell put a consoling hand on her arm. “You might manage to persuade them—but if you don’t, things will be different, you’ll see. For a start, I’ll be there!”

“Oh, that will make all the difference! If I had known the great Lowell Perceval was going to be in London this spring, I would never have argued with Mama. Not for a moment.”

“Hester!”

She smiled at him affectionately. “I hope you’ll have better things to do in London, Lowell, my love, than escort a spinster sister to dances she doesn’t wish to attend, or soirées she’d rather die than be seen at! That would be no fun at all, not for you and not for me. No, we can only hope that I am able to change Mama’s mind before April comes.”

Meanwhile Robert Dungarran was on the road to London. The weather remained inclement and it was proving a most unpleasant journey. Jolted and tossed as the chaise slipped on the ice and snow, and progress was reduced to walking pace, he had plenty of time to consider. The trip had altogether proved a disappointment. Hunting in the mist, rain and snow of Leicestershire had been dismal, and the society there even less attractive. His trip to Northampton had been a waste of time—he had learned nothing from the Receiving Office. However, it wasn’t a matter of great importance, he could put it out of his mind. What was more annoying was the meeting with Hester Perceval…How strange that he hadn’t recognised her! When he had first seen her coming round the corner with her cousins she had seemed a different creature altogether. Laughing, animated, capable. It had taken a minute or two to remember what a bore she had been—and the devilishly awkward circumstances of their last meeting…Still, if what she had said about not coming to town for the Season was right, he wouldn’t have to see her again…How did Hugo, the most polished of men, and a damned amusing companion, come to have such a dull stick for a sister? Dungarran settled back more comfortably against the squabs and composed himself for sleep…