Mary Nichols - A Dangerous Undertaking

‘Yes, I can imagine that,’ Margaret said with a wry smile.

‘But you are not at all haughty and you will not treat me like a child, will you, even when you marry Roland? After all, you cannot be much older than I am.’

‘I am nineteen.’ She knew that she would soon be past marriageable age, especially as she had no dowry, but that didn’t mean she was desperate. ‘But I have not agreed to marry him.’

‘Oh, but you will, won’t you? You will be so good for him, I know you will. I knew it as soon as I saw you. Charles was right; all Roly needed was a little push in the right direction.’

Margaret felt herself being drawn further and further into the web and yet she seemed unable to do anything to free herself, and the longer the charade went on, the more difficult it became to speak out, to say she had no intention of marrying Lord Pargeter. She was about to pluck up her courage to do so, when Roland and Charles joined them.

They had some desultory conversation, and then Roland suggested showing Margaret over the house.

‘Capital notion!’ Charles said, grinning. ‘Kate and I will amuse ourselves with a little piquet. Hannah will be down again directly to chaperon us.’

Margaret followed Roland from the room, determined to tell him she would not fall in with his outrageous scheme. Although it was little past four o’clock it was already quite dark, and he picked up a lamp from the table in the hall and held it aloft. It revealed a vaulted gallery that towered the whole height of the building, panelled and hung with portraits.

‘My ancestors,’ he said, indicating the pictures. ‘The baronetcy was granted by Elizabeth when we lived in Ely and owned land on the higher ground above Winterford. As the fens were drained, so we acquired more. We have been in residence in the Manor since the Commonwealth.’ He led the way up the wide staircase. ‘The house is built in the shape of a crooked E. The staircase forms the central bar and most of the rooms we use are in the west wing, which is more protected from the prevailing wind than the east side.’ They reached the gallery, where they stood side by side, looking over the banister to the vestibule below. It was lit by two lamps near the door, and a huge fire whose warmth did not reach them.

‘Your great-uncle was here,’ he said.

‘Uncle Henry? When?’

‘Last evening. He came looking for you.’

‘How did he know where I was?’

‘One must suppose he guessed.’

‘I did tell him that Master Mellison had been kind enough to escort me to Sedge House,’ she said slowly. ‘What did he say?’

‘Oh, he was full of bluster and talk of abduction and a great deal more.’

‘He thought you had abducted me?’ she queried in surprise. ‘Why, that’s nonsense.’

‘So I told him. He said if I had not abducted you I would have no objection to your returning with him.’

‘What did you say to that?’

‘I said, of course, I had none, but that you were sleeping off the effects of your ordeal, an ordeal brought about by his immoral behaviour, but, if you wished, I would take you to him when you had recovered.’ He paused, turning to face her. ‘Do you wish to go back?’

She thought about it for a moment. Was that what she ought to do? It might get her out of the extraordinary situation she found herself in here at the Manor, but the memory of her uncle’s lecherous guests decided her. ‘No, certainly not. I cannot think why he should think I would. He did not exactly make me welcome.’

‘He said something about the child of his beloved niece and blood being thicker than water. I am afraid that he angered me so much that I became a little indiscreet.’

‘Oh, what did you say?’

‘I cannot repeat the words I used, Mistress Donnington.’ The fury he had felt when he’d seen Capitain shaking the snow off his hat and stamping his booted feet on the hall rug of Winterford Manor had evaporated, leaving him icily calm. Pargeters and Capitains had not spoken to each other for years and, for the most part, ignored one another’s existence; Roland could hardly believe that charlatan could have had the effrontery to call at Winterford Manor and demand to see him. Demand! He had been about to throw him out, when he had realised there was a way to crush him completely. He had told the insolent fellow of his intentions towards Margaret. It had silenced him just long enough for him to comprehend the implications. There had been a great deal more ranting about being Margaret’s legal guardian and his permission being needed for such a step, but that was all it was, nothing but bravado. They had come to an arrangement which guaranteed silence and involved a certain sum of money changing hands. The man would gamble it away in less than a month, but by then the marriage would have taken place. If Roland had had any doubts about the rights and wrongs of what he was doing, they had been dispersed by that visit.

‘THANK you,’ Margaret said quietly. ‘It was kind of you.’

‘No, it was not!’ Roland sounded almost angry. ‘I am not kind, I am just the reverse. My motives were purely selfish.’

‘Oh,’ she said, understanding. ‘You told him…’

‘That we were to be married, yes.’ His tone had moderated; it would not do to take his anger out on her.

‘Why?’

‘He insisted he was your legal guardian and could force you to return to him. I could not let you go back to him, could I?’ That was true; he could no more have handed her back to that debauched old man than he could have drowned a kitten, and she was homeless and penniless, but did that mean he had the right to coerce her into marrying him?

‘Thank you, but did you need to go to such lengths?’ She looked at him with her wide violet eyes and made him feel a hundred times worse. ‘Now it is not only your grandmother who is being deceived, but my uncle too.’

‘There need be no deception. You said you would think about my proposal…’

‘I have considered it very carefully, my lord, and I am very conscious of the honour you do me, but the answer must be no.’

‘Why? Are you nursing dreams of falling in love, Mistress Donnington? I assure you it is a fantasy that only marriages based on love are successful.’ He paused, hardening his heart. ‘Do you want me to hand you over to your great-uncle? I believe he has plans for you…’

‘What kind of plans?’

‘Need I go into detail? You saw his paramour and his guests…’ He shrugged, leaving her to imagine the worst. ‘The choice is yours.’

‘I can go back where I came from.’

‘Do you have enough money to pay the coach fare, find lodgings and keep yourself until you find work suitable for a gentlewoman?’

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I wonder, would you be kind enough to lend me——?’

‘No, it will not serve.’

‘You are despicable!’

He laughed. She was angry again, but anger became her, made her eyes sparkle and colour flood her cheeks. He had to grit his teeth to go on. ‘No, simply practical. Don’t you see, it would be the answer to both our dilemmas? I promise you I will do everything to make your life here as agreeable as possible.’ He meant that, every word of it. ‘Is such a prospect so dreadful?’

She did not answer immediately because a little imp inside her was telling her that she could grow to like the idea. He was handsome and courteous, if you ignored his bouts of ill-humour, and they soon passed. And maybe it was simply that he could not understand her reluctance. Why was she so reluctant? Could it be that he was right and she had been fantasising about falling in love? She ought to know better than that; she had not been so carefully nurtured that she did not know anything about the real world. You could not live and work in London and remain ignorant of it. She should be glad she did not have to return to that world, where she might end up like Nellie, desperate enough to consent to anything.