Yes!I’m sure your astonishmentequalsmine.
It did indeed. Marriage? To a viscount? Was it a full moon?
I was cast into a tizzy. He, however, continued as if discussing whether to plant turnips or cabbages to say that he needs his household under sensible management without delay,and asked again if my friend might be suitable and willing.
I didn’t know the truth about either, but the thought of you within miles, not to mention theopportunity for you to become my lady, was too much to resist, dear Kitty. I said you might be. Of course, that commits you to nothing, and I know you’ve said you will not marry again, but do please give it thought, for Lord Dauntry means what he said.
“He must be mad,” Kitty muttered. “Would I marry a madman to escape?” She answered herself. “Perhaps. If he was safely mad.”
Ruth was correct in saying that she didn’t want a second husband, but that was largely because she couldn’t imagine finding a comfortable one. After the storms with Marcus, she needed calm waters, but she was not in a position to pick and choose. She had no great beauty or elegance, and a pittance of money.
This offer tempted, but it was too good to be true. There must be something markedly wrong with a man who sought a wife in such a way. A difficult marriage would be far worse than life at Cateril Manor, and there would be no escape.
I respect your devotion to Marcus, but can you continue as you are for the rest of your life? Upon hearing of the death of Princess Charlotte, I found myself contemplating the uncertainties of life and our duty to use our time on earth well. I fear your current situation leaves you idle. However, my desires might cause me to overpersuade you, so let me tell you of the problems.
The writing was becoming even smaller. There must be a great many problems, and that was a relief. Kitty could feel the pull of this ridiculous plan, and she needed reasons to resist.
Lord Dauntry stated plainly that he sought a wife who would not seek to change his ways. Kitty, I fear thosewaysincludecarousingand wicked women. He behaves with complete propriety here, but he is a veryfashionablegentleman. I understand he is commonly called Beau Braydon, in the style of Beau Nash and Beau Brummell! His life since leaving the army has been mostly in London. You are more familiar than I as to what that might involve.
Kitty was, but she was fixed on the words “since leaving the army.”
Kitty had lived in London all her married life, often surrounded by Marcus’s army friends. He’d not been able to get out much, so his military friends and acquaintances had come to him when in Town on furlough or official business, sometimes in numbers that threatened to burst the walls. Some were good company, but she’d learned that soldiering often left scars, visible and invisible. Major Quincy had been silent, with such a dark look in his eyes. Captain Farrow had mostly been quiet, but occasionally he’d fall into a kind of fit in which he thought he was fighting the French; it had taken two or three others to restrain him. Lieutenant Wynne had a strong voice and had often led jolly songs, but she’d sensed something wrong. According to Marcus, his wounds had affected his manhood. Marcus had thanked heaven that his had not, but they’d affected so much else.
She wasn’t attracted to the idea of any second marriage, and certainly not to another ex-soldier. She’d done her share in that regard.
He asked if I would put the proposal to you. I made no promise, but later Andrew and I discussedthe matter. He is uncomfortable with the situation for many reasons, but he sees how advantageous it could be to you, and he confirmed my assessment that Lord Dauntry would be a tolerable husband, as long as you kept to his conditions.
And if not? Rages and bruises, then weeping contrition and threats to kill himself?
If she’d been a meeker woman, perhaps Marcus’s life would have been more tolerable, but his unpredictable anger had developed an echo in herself. To begin with, she’d agreed and soothed, and even apologized for imagined faults, but her patience had worn down until she’d answered sharp words with sharper, and rage with rage. She’d rebutted accusations with ones of her own. That had worked better, but she’d hated his dismal repentance for days afterward.
Men wanted meek wives, and she didn’t think she could ever be one again. Ruth’s plan was a fairy tale. But the next line leapt out at her.
Remember, Andrew and I would be close by to offer loving support.
To be close to Ruth and have her loving support...
What was more, if she became Lady Dauntry—astonishing thought!—she’d be able to visit the parsonage whenever she wished. She could invite Ruth and her family to her own grand home. What was the name? Beauchamp Abbey. Was it pronounced in the French way—BOW-shamp—or did it match the village name, Beecham? That was irrelevant, but relevant thoughts, weakening thoughts, were trickling in.
Here, at last, was escape from Cateril Manor.
Might it be bearable?
The married life of Lady Dauntry would be vastly different from hers with Marcus, no matter how odd her husband was. She wouldn’t be trapped in four rooms, and it seemed unlikely Lord Dauntry would demand her presence most of the time or insist on her sharing his restless bed.
She and he could have separate bedrooms, separate suites of rooms. Separate wings, perhaps! Given what Ruth had said, he might rarely be at the Abbey at all. In a normal marriage, she might object to his amusements elsewhere, but not in this one.
“Am I seriously considering this?”
Sillikin’s cocked head seemed to send the question back at her.
“I am.”
To escape Cateril Manor. To live close to Ruth. To have a home of her own again, with a frequently absent husband...
She read on, now fearful of something to make it impossible.
If you are willing to consider the matter, it must be soon. Dauntry is a man of brisk action. If you don’t give him hope, he will proceed to other ways of obtaining the wife he wants. I can’t imagine it will be difficult. He’s a handsome man, though in a cool way.
