Keeping the Castle

15



“A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.” I have sometimes read of an unexpected event described in this way, and now I know exactly what is meant by the phrase.

A blue sky, a sunny, mild day. The usual list of worries and troubles runs through one’s mind, but nothing that cannot be overcome, nothing that will not reach a satisfactory conclusion eventually, if not today, why then, tomorrow. An ordinary day, in fact. And then lightning strikes from out of that innocent blue sky and all that remains is the smoking ruins of one’s every hope and every dream.

Busy with my household duties, I allowed Charity to snare Lord Boring and take him off for a stroll about the grounds. I had become resigned to the fact that I could not trust him to refuse her overtures when I was not available, and Mama and I had a great inventory of linens before us that morning. How was I to know the danger? How could I have guessed?

They were gone for a long time: several hours, in fact. Mama and I concluded, correctly, as it happened, that they had gone to the Park. At last they returned.

“Boring, go and speak with Stepmama,” Charity ordered as soon as they were within doors, and Lord Boring obeyed.

“Mrs. Winthrop, may I have a word with you in private?” he said, avoiding my gaze.

“Why certainly,” Mama said, looking a bit surprised. They retired to the little boudoir near the dining hall, leaving a startled silence behind.

Or at least, a startled silence on my part. Charity sat down and clasped her hands in her lap, with a smug look on her face. Prudence knew that something of great moment was in the air. She cast enquiring glances at Charity, which Charity ignored.

At last, unable to bear the suspense, Prudence said coyly, “And so, dear sister, have you any news you wish to tell us?”

“Thank you, Prudence,” Charity replied, “but I think it best if we wait for Stepmama.” Both sisters darted sudden looks in my direction, which were immediately withdrawn.

After an interval of some ten minutes Lord Boring came out. Mama stood in the doorway, her face white, her dark eyes meeting mine with an expression I could not interpret.

“Charity,” she said, “come here, please.”

Charity rose and followed her into the boudoir. As she did so, Lord Boring said, “I—you won’t want me any further, will you? For the moment, I mean? My mother wished me to return.”

“Very well, Boring,” Charity said, “you must go to your mother. We will see you tomorrow morning, however.”

“Yes, yes of course. Till the morning, then.” He bowed, smiled uneasily upon Prudence and me and made his escape.

Charity was with Mama for an even shorter period of time. When she came out, Mama beckoned to me. When I joined her in the boudoir, she, like everyone else for the past twenty minutes, avoided meeting my eyes.

“Sit down, Althea, dear. I—that is, Charity and Lord Boring have some news which I should like to break to you—or rather, not break to you, only tell you—in private. She—they plan to marry. Lord Boring proposed this afternoon and she accepted.”

“Charity and . . . Lord Boring?” My mother nodded. “They plan to marry?” She nodded once again, looking at me anxiously. I shook my head at her. “Oh, Mama, you cannot be serious! Did Charity tell you so?”

“Lord Boring told me so first, Althea. Charity confirmed it, as I also was incredulous. After so many months of marked attentions to you, to turn around and propose to Charity! I could scarcely believe it. And yet, my dearest”—here she rose and put her arms around me—“it is true. His mother knows and approves of the match. Indeed, I suspect it was her idea. He does not behave like an ardent lover whose proposal has been accepted. I believe he will marry her out of respect for his mother’s wishes, rather than his own.”

How could it be? Yet another submissive child, willing to sacrifice her or his life’s happiness on the altar of filial duty!

“But why? I fully understand that Charity would have him if she could, but why should he want her? And why should his mother wish to see them marry?”

My mother lowered her gaze and her voice. “I believe it may be Charity’s fortune that is behind it,” she murmured. “And of course, Charity is quite a pretty girl. Nothing in comparison with you, of course, but attractive.”

“But Lord Boring already has a fortune. And he doesn’t like Charity.” My voice was rising into a wail, and I stilled it by pressing a hand to my mouth.

“Now, dear, let us hope you are wrong. When she is in a good mood, she can be pleasant enough. No, but I fear it is financial necessity that prompted his proposal. The Marquis has several times hinted to me that the Baron was unlikely to offer for you, because you have no dowry. I have been fretting a great deal about whether or not to mention it to you. It seemed so obvious that he was very taken with you, and you seemed . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Very taken with him,” I concluded for her. “Yes. Yes, I was.”

“But Althea, dear, I have never thought you to be in love with him. Attracted, yes, of course you were—he is such a handsome man and his manners are faultless. But he does not seem to me to be a man of strong character. He seems—forgive me, dear—rather weak. And you have such a decided character that I would wish you to marry a man who was your equal.

“To be honest,” she continued, “I am even a bit concerned about his marrying Charity. The Marquis also suggested that the Boring fortune is much smaller than we have supposed and that Mrs. Westing has . . . gambling debts. Debts of a serious nature, that she is not in a position to pay. I worry that this marriage may not be in Charity’s best interests. I ventured to say so—not so bluntly as that, of course, but urging her to consider her position before entering into a formal engagement. She—she accused me of seeking to keep her money in the family for my own selfish purposes. After that, of course, I could say nothing else.”

I reflected that it was quite true that we wished to keep her money in the family. We could not deny it. But since she kept such a tight grip on every penny, it was only just worth the effort. I did not envy the Baron if he thought he would have free access to it for his own purposes. He might have every legal right to it once they were married, but Charity was a force to be reckoned with in these matters.

Nor did I envy Charity. She would be married for her fortune and, I supposed, because she was prettier than (tho’ not so rich as) Miss Vincy. I knew beyond a doubt that, given a free choice, he would have married me, and Charity knew it as well.

“Charity will be a baroness,” I said aloud. “And I suppose that is all that matters.”

“Perhaps. But it is wrong for me to assume the match is not based upon affection. At any rate, we must hope so. My greatest fear is how it concerns you, my love. Please tell me that you are not so very unhappy.”

I considered my emotions. The honest truth was that I was both angry and offended. My vanity was injured. But my heart . . . my heart was untouched. Mama was right. I did not love him. I had merely marked him out as my property, and now was furious that I had lost him, and to Charity.

At last I spoke. “He was wrong to have distinguished me with so much attention if he did not mean to marry me. That has lessened him in my eyes to such an extent that I am not sorry I am not to be his wife. I am distressed, yes, but I will recover in time.”

“Oh, how grateful I am to hear you say so!” said my mama, pressing her hand to her heart. “I have been so frightened! But as you remarked only this spring, you are young yet at seventeen. Many years lie ahead in which you will have the opportunity to meet the man who will make you a good husband and father to your children.”

A thought struck me, and I smiled.

“I believe I am growing too refined in my taste, Mama. Last spring I thought I would be glad to marry anyone, so long as he had the wherewithal to save the castle. I agreed to marry Mr. Godalming. The only thing that saved me from that fate was his chagrin at discovering my motive. Now listen to me! I regard a handsome nobleman as not good enough for me! I demand to marry a man I both like and respect!” And I shook my head at my own folly.

“Liking and respecting one’s husband, even loving him wholeheartedly all your lives together, is possible,” Mama said. “Your papa was a fine man. Had it not been for my love of you, and concern for my unborn child, I believe I would have died of grief at his death.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know. I remember.”

“The sole reason I married Mr. Winthrop so soon was—”

“I know, Mama. I know. You tried to do the best you could for your children. I understood then and I understand now. You have no need to explain.”

“Good. But you must marry a fine man, too, whatever the financial consequences may be. I could not bear to see you unhappy.”

“Very well, I shall try. Do you know, Mama? I believe this situation has a positive side. With Charity married off, we shall have one less mouth to feed!”



I tried to keep this aspect of the state of affairs in mind as we rejoined my stepsisters. Imagine, I told myself as I went to Charity and embraced her, imagine not having to endure her petty jealousy every day, not having to allow her precedence every time we walked down a hall together. Imagine, I thought as I congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials, not having to listen to her shrill rendition of “The Bluebells of Scotland” of an evening, or being able to give Alexander a sweet without fearing that Charity would filch it as soon as my back was turned.

“How grand it will be to have a baroness for a sister, will it not, Prudence?” I said, gaining strength from the deflated expressions on their faces. They had both expected me to be crushed by the news. Well, I was crushed, to a degree. But I was able to remain with them for a good quarter of an hour, discussing the match in measured tones, before I made an excuse and left them.

Fido and I climbed the stairs to my bed chamber, and I curled up in my bed with my dog (the dog that he had given me!) and had a little weep.

After a time I began to think of my friend Miss Vincy. She too had lost the Baron by means of this day’s events. Perhaps she had had less cause for hope than I had, but the heart is not always reasonable in these matters. I remembered the letter I had seen her reading. Could it have been a letter from the Baron explaining his intentions? If so, it was more explanation than I had received. I decided that, on the morrow when the Baron came calling, I would remain at home long enough to grant him civil good wishes on his engagement, and then go and seek out Miss Vincy.



“Ah, Miss Crawley. Good morning.”

As it happened, I was the only one downstairs when the Baron arrived. Judging by the expression on his face, he had hoped to arrive early enough to whisk his fiancée out-of-doors without encountering me at all. He would realize soon enough that his lady love was not an early riser.

I allowed a small pause to occur before responding, and searched his handsome face and form for some telltale little sign I ought to have seen that would have alerted me to the fact that he was a weak-willed, despicable, mercenary . . .

Of course, I had been prepared to wed for money, myself.

I sighed, went to him, and shook him by the hand. “Welcome to the family, my lord,” I said. “Many congratulations on your engagement.”

“I—I thank you for your generous words,” he stammered. “You were—I suppose you were surprised to hear of it?”

“I was,” I acknowledged, “but this is the last time we should speak of it. You are to wed Charity, which means we will be brother and sister. I would not wish to be at odds with such a close relative.”

He bent forward to say in a lower tone, “I beg of you to believe me that I wished to address you, to ask you to do me the honor of becoming my wife. If I had had the freedom of choice! Then you may be certain—”

“Please,” I said. “Say no more about it. It is in the past, and you must look to the future.”

He scowled at this reminder. “Well do I know it. Fear not, I will pay for having courted you more assiduously than I did Charity. She would not have been so kind as you have just been. I know the character of the woman I will wed.”

In fact, I doubted this, but he would learn.

I reflected that had he married for attraction alone he could have had me. Had he married for money alone, he could have had Miss Vincy. Instead he had chosen a compromise between the two and had ended up with Miss Charity Winthrop.

I did not think he could have done worse for himself if he’d tried.