“Why? I know why Arthur wished to avoid the fulfillment of his uncle’s inappropriate wager. I am not entirely certain of his reasons for naming you as his betrothed, but what I truly wish to know is why you agreed. I doubt that you love him, yet.”
Her guest smiled. “I find him most charming company.”
“That is not the same thing,” Lady Beckham said sharply.
“I would always hope for affection to deepen and grow in future. I understand that may happen in a marriage based upon rational agreement.”
“But why did you agree?”
Miss Carruthers considered the question. She looked to her tea, then at the window. Her gaze swept over the drawing room again. Lady Beckham was certain the younger woman was aware of the cost of her surroundings and she showed a polite appreciation of it, but there was no avarice in her expression.
She was not marrying Arthur for his money, which was a relief.
“I like Mr. Beckham,” she said finally, choosing one thing with which a mother could not find fault.
“I suppose you are attracted to his financial security.”
The younger woman shook her head. “Not particularly. I have no ambition to be wealthy, Lady Beckham, although money certainly makes matters simpler.”
“If you meant to make an arranged match, you could have done as much sooner.”
Miss Carruthers smiled. “When I was in the bloom of my youth, you mean,” she said, not taking umbrage. “But the fact is that I had no interest in matrimony until recently. I am content with my life and comfortable in my father’s home.”
“What changed?”
She frowned a little, turning her cup in its saucer. “I began to consider future possibilities. Though I would not wish for such a circumstance, my father may pass away before me and my mother is already gone. The business would become that of my uncle and my father’s partner, and thence be inherited by my cousins, who are his sons.”
“You could be left without comforts.” Lady Beckham did admire the girl’s practicality. She was not witless either.
“Indeed. It occurred to me that my older sister, Baroness Trevelaine, is the only one of us whose future is assured. Though she would be kind to myself and my younger sister, prospects are somewhat less certain than would be ideal. I had only just concluded that I should wed, if possible, to ensure my own future, when Mr. Beckham made his offer.”
“I suppose you, like Arthur, believe that opportunity arrives when it is most welcome.”
She shook her head. “I did not.” She smiled a little, a mysterious expression which transformed her utterly. She looked lovely and radiant, her eyes shining when she thought of Arthur. “But Mr. Beckham is rather persuasive,” she confessed, then lowered her gaze and sipped her tea.
Arthur had chosen her and his reasons were unclear, but Lady Beckham saw in that moment that Miss Carruthers could come to adore Arthur. If ever a man had deserved an adoring wife, it was her son.
Lady Beckham put down her teacup. “I see, and I thank you for your candor, Miss Carruthers.”
“I believe honesty to be the best policy, my lady.”
“Indeed. Perhaps you would like to see the room that will be yours, and recommend any changes you would like. Some details can likely be resolved before the wedding.”
“I’m certain it is lovely as it is, just like the rest of your home.”
Lady Beckham had some work to do, it was clear. This young lady had to learn that she could be demanding as Arthur’s wife—in fact, she should be demanding and not accept whatever she was granted.
Lady Beckham supposed she could work with what was offered, in this case.
She sensed that she would have to. Arthur showed an unwelcome stubbornness when it came to this girl and as much as she preferred to have her own way, she feared the price of demanding his surrender in this matter might prove too high.
* * *
Lady Beckham’shouse was in Berkley Square, which was sufficiently daunting in itself. The house was one of the larger ones, and decorated with enthusiasm. Patience had to ensure that she did not gape at the paintings and draperies as she was led to the drawing room.
Lady Beckham was a large and loud woman, impeccably dressed, and with a precise method of speaking. Her hair was of a hue closer to that of her daughter, who more closely resembled her, but it appeared both children had her to thank for their blue eyes. Patience had the definite sense that her betrothed’s mother liked to organize matters and also that Arthur had inherited—or been taught - her good taste. In truth, Patience was relieved for she doubted that any fête organized by herself would have every possible detail anticipated and every social convention observed. She was more likely to become distracted by a book, while Lady Beckham would derive great satisfaction, Patience guessed, in ensuring that all was perfection.
There was no cause to fear any lull in the conversation, for Lady Beckham did not require the contribution of anyone else to ensure a smooth patter of conversation. She speculated upon the anticipated weather for the day chosen for the wedding. She informed Patience of the refreshments she was ordering for the wedding breakfast. She reviewed the list of invited guests, which was so extensive that Patience could not think of anyone left uninvited, save perhaps the Prince of Wales himself.
