A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine Read online

  “What nonsense! You are as delightful as ever, and there must be many men only too eager to make you an offer. Do you mean to tell me there has been no one in all these years?”

  “No one whom I would consider acceptable,” replied Henrietta. “But there is a dearth of eligible gentlemen in this neighbourhood.”

  “Then you must look elsewhere. I wonder your aunt did not invite you to London again after you were out of mourning for your mother.”

  “Oh, but she did. At the time, however, I could not be spared,” replied Henrietta. “She pressed me again when Cecily went there for her come-out, but I didn’t see how I could possibly leave poor Pam at home alone. She was only sixteen, and it would have been too cruel to deprive her of the companionship of both her sisters, would it not?”

  “I tell you, Henrietta,” declared Almeria warmly, “you need to consider yourself a little more! You are altogether too heedful of the claims of others.”

  “Fustian!” Henrietta reddened a little. “In my place you would have done exactly the same.”

  “Fortunately I was never put to that test. I would do a good deal for Julian, though,” she added with some intent. “I’d like to see him comfortably settled in life with the kind of woman who could make him happy. For that end, possibly, I wouldn’t object to a little self-sacrifice.”

  “But I’ve always understood you to say that your brother had not the slightest inclination for matrimony?”

  “No more he had, but this latest illness of Papa’s has changed his mind. He sees now that it’s time he took a wife and produced an heir for Aldwyn Court.”

  Henrietta nodded, a twinkle in her eye. “And I collect he has someone in mind who will call for a sacrifice on your part?”

  Almeria laughed. “No such thing! Apart from associations with ladies of a certain sort, he has never shown any interest in females since that unfortunate affair with Lady Haldane.”

  “I know little of that, for it happened when I was quite young. There was some kind of scandal, I collect?”

  “She played him a monstrous cruel trick!” exclaimed Almeria vehemently. “Of course, he was very young and a trifle foolish. Poor Julian!” She saw that her friend was interested. “There is no reason I shouldn’t tell you the whole,” she continued. “It’s all so long ago, and you are unlikely ever to meet the Haldanes, since they now live in Italy.”

  “But possibly Mr. Aldwyn would prefer that you shouldn’t?”

  “I don’t think it makes any odds to him now. It has all become ancient history. He was only nineteen when he met Celia Haldane, a mere boy, with a boy’s trust and credulity. She was ten years older than he, and married to a nobleman almost twice her age. She really was the most prodigiously beautiful woman; there were scores of men at her feet. But what must she do but make a determined onslaught on Julian particularly! Of course, it was all a hoax on her part, but he took it in earnest. She told him the wildest stories of her husband’s neglect and physical cruelty toward her, and poor Julian believed every word! He believed, too, that he was the only true love of her life, which just goes to show how thoroughly she went to work on him! In the end, she persuaded him that she must escape from her husband for fear of her life, and so he arranged to carry her off.”

  “Oh, dear. And did he succeed?”

  Almeria laughed, but totally without humour. “He had a chaise and four waiting for her in a quiet lane near the Haldane residence one night, for that very purpose. And the lady came — but accompanied by her husband and an attendant group of merrymakers to mock at Julian! She informed him it had all been a jest done only for a wager. You may imagine his feelings.”

  “She must have been unbalanced,” Henrietta at last replied, shaken. “How could any female so treat a young man in the throes of calf-love? Cruel — cruel to excess! What could she possibly gain?”

  “The wager. And a sense of power, I suppose. Females of her stamp,” said Almeria bitterly, “do not care who is hurt by their petty self-indulgence.”

  “I am thankful to say I don’t number any such among my acquaintance. But what of your brother? Do you imply that he has never completely recovered from that unfortunate experience.”

  “No more he has, in a way. Of course, he had a wretched time of it at first, for that kind of story soon spreads abroad, and he became a laughing stock. In the end, he quitted England to join Wellington’s forces in the Peninsula, and for years did not return home.”

  “One cannot wonder that he has avoided females ever since,” said Henrietta sympathetically.

  “I suppose not, though eight years is a long time. But while he still feels so much bitterness towards our sex, I fear that any marriage he makes will be no more than a matter of convenience. And he deserves so much more!”

  “And so,” remarked Henrietta quietly, “would his wife.”

  After Almeria had been driven back to Aldwyn Court by her brother, Henrietta went up to her bedchamber. It was too early yet to change for dinner — never a lengthy process for her — but Selina would be returning in a few minutes, and Henrietta had no wish to talk to her sister-in-law at present.

  It had been a relief to speak freely to Almeria. They had exchanged frequent letters, of course, but it was much more difficult to commit one’s most private thoughts to paper than to give vent to them in conversation. She sadly realised now how greatly she had missed having a confidante since Pamela’s marriage. As for other female friends, those in whom she had been most ready to confide had married, like Almeria and Louisa Randall, and moved away. It had never before struck her how solitary, in fact, she was. The thought made her melancholy.

  She had realised for some months now that she could not continue to make her home at the manor. Do what she would to make matters smooth, her sister-in-law obviously resented her presence. Nicholas, too, must always be in an uncomfortable situation while she remained, uneasily attempting to smooth down his wife’s ruffled feathers while trying at the same time to avoid making his sister feel unwelcome.

  Yet what alternative was there? She was determined not to make a home with either of her sisters. Though she had paid visits to each of them after Papa’s death and been made very welcome, there had never been mention of a permanent arrangement. In her view, it was just as well, for such a situation would certainly give rise to tensions that might in time fracture their affectionate relationship with each other.

  Almeria had spoken of marriage as a way of escape. There had already been the offer of marriage from the Reverend Thomas Claydon, vicar of the parish, a widower with two young children. He was an agreeable gentleman of five and thirty, who lived with comfortable means in a snug house surrounded by a pleasant garden. Henrietta had known him for several years, and she both liked and respected him. But she believed that his proposals had been made chiefly in the hope of providing a suitable mother for his children. She was sure her refusal had given him no pain. Of course, it would have been more sensible to accept, as Selina had not scrupled to point out afterwards. But at the moment of his declaration, it had come suddenly upon her that she wanted more than this from marriage.

  She had never yet been in love — absurd that it should be so at her age, she reflected wryly. Though there must be many females like herself who were on the shelf simply because no opportunity had been granted them to meet suitable partners. Doubtless they were every bit as attractive and amiable as others of their sex who had entered the married state. Unclaimed blessings, she told herself, and laughed a little at the phrase.

  But perhaps, in her case, it was not entirely a matter of failing to meet many gentlemen. She knew that she was not as pretty as her sisters.

  She moved over to her mirror to again confirm this long-accepted notion. There was a certain family likeness; all three had oval-shaped faces with small features and fine, smooth skin. They differed in colouring and expression. Cecilia’s hair was dark, and her hazel eyes frequently held a mocking look that matched her cool elegance. Pamela’s ch
estnut curls and soft brown eyes had a melting effect on any man, old or young, who came within her range. The eyes reflected in Henrietta’s mirror were between blue and grey; they neither mocked nor melted, but turned a direct, frank gaze upon the world, seeking both to discover and understand its foibles. There was little here, she thought with a rueful smile, of feminine mystery, though she had to acknowledge that her smile did do something to redeem what must otherwise appear rather an austere countenance. As for her hair, no one could deny that it was mouse coloured; but since she had long ago taken to wearing a cap, very little of it appeared in view.

  She wondered what such a gentleman as the handsome, dashing Mr. Aldwyn, used to the fashionable belles of London society, might think of her. She laughed aloud. What a quiz she must have appeared to him yesterday morning, in her old gardening dress and sunbonnet! But Mr. Aldwyn, by his own sister’s report, took no account of any female, fashionable or otherwise. She thought of the story she had been told of his youthful folly, and her eyes softened with compassion. Although she was a stranger herself to love, her imagination told her how deeply he must have suffered. Although he certainly showed no slightest trace of it now, assured and elegant and so very much in command of himself and the world about him.

  Her thoughts moved on to Almeria’s news of Louisa Randall, now Mrs. Fordyce. Louisa had always been a close friend until four years ago, when she and her mother had removed to Harrogate in Yorkshire. Louisa had not proved a satisfactory correspondent; her last letter had come almost three years since, announcing the news of her marriage and saying that she was to live with her Irish husband in Dublin. After that, Henrietta had heard nothing more of her until Almeria’s visit yesterday. Poor Louisa! How sad that she should have been so soon widowed. And now she was living alone in Bath.

  This information had at once caught Henrietta’s interest. If Louisa could set up an establishment on her own, why should not Henrietta do so? True, she was not a widow; but was she not a spinster of sufficiently advanced years for such an arrangement to be considered proper? If she were obliged to leave the manor, a home of her own would be far more agreeable to her than any other solution. Not until now had the idea fully taken form in her mind. She would think it over for a little longer, and then perhaps write to Almeria to ask her opinion.

  She realized it was time to be changing her dress for dinner. Accordingly, she rang for her maid Ruth, a middle-aged, comfortable-looking country woman who had been with the family when Henrietta’s mother was alive.

  “Will you wear the purple or the grey, Miss?” asked Ruth briskly, when her mistress had finished her ablutions.

  “Oh, either,” replied Henrietta indifferently, then added suddenly, “No. That is to say, have I anything else suitable, Ruth, do you suppose? We are to have company to dinner this evening.”

  Ruth opened the wardrobe, inspecting its contents doubtfully. “Well, there’s naught but what’s old, Miss. Now that you can be out of mourning altogether, ’twouldn’t hurt to have one or two new gowns made up in prettier colours, if you’ll pardon the liberty.”

  “Yes, I dare say you’re right.”

  Chapter IV

  When Henrietta descended to the drawing room, Mr. Aldwyn was already taking a glass of sherry with his host. She could not help thinking how well he looked in evening dress and she wished that she had worn the blue gown, after all. She dismissed the thought as stupid and vain and went over to sit beside her sister-in-law on the striped satin sofa.

  The conversation at first followed much the same insipid course as that of the previous day. But Henrietta noticed with amusement that Mr. Aldwyn was using considerable address in an attempt to thaw out the frigid Lady Melville. He succeeded so well that by the time they were all seated at table in the dining room, Selina had unbent sufficiently to ask after all the latest London news, and Sir Nicholas felt able to issue an invitation to look in at the Manor any time.

  “Dare say you’ll welcome a change now and then, my dear chap. We could take out a gun together, or have a day’s fishing. My wife and I are only just settling in here ourselves and getting to know the neighbours. These things take time, what? Especially as my father more or less cut himself off from local society. Henrietta’s acquainted with most of ’em, of course, having lived here all her life. And I’m sure she’ll be very happy to take you sightseeing. Couldn’t have a better guide, too, in many ways; she knows all the history of those dashed places! Never could understand what she and my father saw in it, but no accounting for tastes, what?”

  “Fortunately, Miss Melville’s taste and mine are at one on that subject,” replied Aldwyn easily. “If I recollect aright, there’s a ruined castle not far from Westhyde. Now, what was the name of it?”

  “Do you mean Farleigh Hungerford, sir?” asked Henrietta. “It’s only three miles distant. I often go there; it’s one of my favourite rides.”

  “Ah, yes, that is it. So you enjoy riding, too, do you, ma’am?”

  “Oh, of all things!” she exclaimed eagerly.

  He gave her a swift but penetrating glance. Perhaps she was not, after all, quite so plain as he had at first thought. It was a pity that she should scrape her light brown hair so relentlessly back instead of allowing it to form a soft frame for her face, and even more regrettable that she should crown it with a cap that added years to her age. After all, her face was not unpleasing, with fine delicate bone structure and a pair of expressive grey blue eyes that reflected her changing moods.

  Lady Melville struck in at this juncture. “It is an exercise to which my sister-in-law is particularly addicted, though I could wish that I might persuade her to take a groom out with her. It is not at all the thing for a lady to go jauntering about unaccompanied. I was never allowed to do so.”

  “You weren’t brought up in the country, Selina,” protested Henrietta gently. “Besides, you were much younger than I, in the days when you went riding.”

  “It is true that I never venture out on horseback nowadays, but if I did so, I should most certainly take a groom with me,” replied Lady Melville stiffly. “Quite apart from the conventions, one never knows when an accident may occur.”

  “I have an incurably optimistic disposition, you know, and never think of such things as accidents. But perhaps yours is the wiser course,” added Henrietta diplomatically, in response to her brother’s warning frown.

  “May I suggest that I should take the place of a groom when next you decide to ride to the castle?” asked Aldwyn. “That is, if you will indulge me with the pleasure of your company, and if Lady Melville considers me a suitable escort?”

  Selina, mollified at being consulted, graciously assured him that she did. He went on to press the matter until a definite arrangement had been made for three days hence.

  “Is it possible that your friend has developed an interest in Henrietta?” Lady Melville demanded incredulously of her husband later, when they were alone together. “I can scarcely credit it.”

  He stared for a moment, then laughed. “No such thing! Aldwyn’s not in the petticoat line. Leastways, not with females of his own quality. There have been ladybirds, so rumour has it…”

  Selina stopped him with a gesture. “I don’t wish to hear gossip of that nature,” she said coldly.

  “No, no, of course not, m’ dear! But I believe the truth of the matter is that he’s at a loose end in this dull neighbourhood and glad to snatch at any chance of a little social diversion. I must say I welcome his company. I trust you haven’t taken him in dislike?” he added anxiously.

  “Not at all, though I am not best pleased to learn of his rakish disposition — he appears so very much the gentleman,” replied his wife. “But as my dear mama warned me, men are notoriously unreliable in such matters, so I suppose one must not refine too much upon that. And there is no gainsaying that he will be a prestigious addition to the social circle we are endeavouring to form about us, as he comes from one of the first families in the county.”


  “Just so, my love.” Sir Nicholas was relieved. “Though I don’t expect he’ll remain here for more than a few months, y’ know — just long enough to see the old fellow fit to take up the reins again.”

  The day of their expedition turned out to be dry and sunny, though with a cool breeze that presaged autumn. Shortly after eleven o’clock, Aldwyn presented himself at the manor in buckskins and a well-cut cinnamon riding coat. His immaculate appearance gave Henrietta some doubt for the first time about her own riding habit, a garment that had served her well for the past three or four years but had long since faded from its original olive green to a drab, indeterminate colour. Almeria’s gentle hints now presented themselves to her more forcefully. She really must soon take a trip to Bath, she thought, and see what could be found in the Milsom Street shops to refurbish her wardrobe.

  Their ride took them through undulating countryside with a fine view of the river winding among open fields, where sheep grazed or reapers gathered the corn. Here and there were stone farmhouses sheltered in the lee of tree-covered hills, but there were few cottages to be seen along the lanes.

  “I had forgotten how splendid my native countryside is,” remarked Aldwyn, gazing about him appreciatively as they topped a rise and saw the sunlit landscape spread out before them. “There’s something quite mellow about Somerset, do you not agree, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes, I delight in it! Lush meadows, fine woodlands, the river: what more might anyone wish for?”

  He glanced at her face, which was alight with enthusiasm, and he thought once again that she was not really plain. How could he have supposed her so at first? Her figure was pleasing, too, and she sat a horse expertly enough, even if her riding habit was more than a trifle shabby.

  “You must allow me to say, Miss Melville, that you look at home to a peg in the saddle,” he remarked.

  “Oh, I’ll allow you to say anything of a complimentary nature!” she retorted, laughing. “You need only ask my permission if you intend to make derogatory remarks. But I am sure you have too much address for that, sir.”