“It was notsolelyfor the title,” she said laughingly. “I married Ian for the social position he could give me, and certainly the title was a part of that. It is the best possible start for my children… although for the girls, that will be more difficult now.” She paused, thinking fretfully of her daughters and their ruined prospects. But she could do nothing about that. “For myself, Ilovebeing a viscountess, and mingling with the decision-makers of the Kingdom, feeling that I am at the heart of things. I should go mad confined to the country all the time.”
“So why are you here?” he said, and there was a definite coolness in his tone now. “Because you are not a viscountess any longer, are you? Why are you not on your knees before your husband begging him to bestow his title on you once more? Or are you hoping to hoist yourself a little higher up the table of precedence? Robert Osborn is the Earl of Kiltarlity now, and there he is, newly arrived at Strathinver to oversee his new domain.”
“Newly arrived?” So he was there! How disheartening if she had come all this way, only to find him far away…
“Yes. He has been in Cornwall, looking at some property he owns there. I thought all his holdings were in Scotland, apart from the place near Melton, but seemingly he owns a tin mine or some such… I am not sure. And some houses. He has properties scattered everywhere, and he is trying to get to all of them. But he is settled at Strathinver for a while, with his mother and sisters. They called in on their way north. Perhaps that is your destination, not Lochmaben, and you only called in hereto wreak havoc with my marriage plans. We need to talk about Ruth, Izzy.”
“Are you going to yell at me, Sidney?”
“I never yell at ladies,” he said with dignity.
“I beg your pardon. Are you instead going to berate me in a restrained and gentlemanlike manner?”
“Would there be any use?”
“None at all,” she said cheerfully. “You must not marry her, Sydney. You of all people should marry for love, forpassion.Marriage is too serious to be merely a matter of land and money.”
“Izzy, you can hardly tell me to marry for love when that is not what you did yourself.”
“But I did! I married for passion — not for Ian, specifically, but for the life he could give me. I wantedsociety, Sidney, and the best society, at that. That was always my grand passion. If you were in love with Ruth, I would have nothing to say about it, but to marry for anything so mundane as afield— that is abominable!”
“I may not be in love with Ruth, but I like her very well.”
“And so do I, but that has nothing to do with it. She is not your equal, Sidney, neither in breeding nor in education. She has not the necessary upbringing as a lady to be able to rear the children of a gentleman. If she were to marry a rural squire, that would be one thing, but the Davenports are above that level. If you take her to town, there will be those who despise her and treat her with contempt, and that would make both of you uncomfortable.”
He drew his horse to a halt. “I know all this, of course,” he said quietly. “How could I not? And yet still I want to do it. You remember me from that time five years ago, when I trailed along in your wake like an eager puppy, writing very bad poetry and trying to pretend I was some kind of romantic hero. Wecompeted to impress you with our tales, do you remember? Not Farramont, he was too staid for that, but Marsden, Osborn and I all wove fantasies about ourselves, in the vain hope that you would look favourably on us. How foolish we were!”
“Oh, do not repent of anything you did then,” Izzy said, smiling at him. “I enjoyed it all enormously, even your poetry.”
“It was terrible poetry.”
“No, no! It was about me, so it was wonderful.”
That made him laugh. “Ah, Izzy, such times we had! Happy days, and yet so turbulent. Such delirious joy when you smiled on me. Such despair when you smiled on one of the others. Such happiness when I danced with you. Such desolation to watch you dance with anyone else. I had no thought beyond you, nothing in my head but my own wishes. But that was five years ago, and the poetry is long gone. That was all a dream, and one cannot live on dreams. The woman who inspires a man at twenty-four is not necessarily the right woman to make him happy forever. I have grown up since then, and I am far more aware of my duty to my family. It is not merely my own desires that drive me now. Ruth is a convenient answer to my twin dilemmas — to marry for the succession and bring that field back into the estate, where it belongs. Can you understand that, Izzy?”
“Of course. You want to marry Ruth to please your father, and that is admirable, but consider this, Sydney. In five years’ time, your father will no longer be around, but Ruth will. She will still be there, still with an accent that marks her as merchant class, still unsure of precedence into and out of the dining room, still unable to play a note on the instrument or paint or take part in anything but a country dance. And you will have years and years of her company to look forward to. She is clever, I grant you, so perhaps you will find her conversation stimulating, but it is a risk. It is always a risk when there is such a disparity between husband and wife. I should hate to see you dwindle intoresentfulness and misery. You are too romantic a soul to deserve such a fate. Marry for love, I implore you. Is there no one else who inspires the poet in you?”
Her words were mischievous, for she hoped to bring Sophie to his mind — so much more suitable a match than Ruth Plowman. Would he take the hint?
For answer, he set his horse in motion again, and Izzy’s mount moved off as well. For a long time, nothing was said, although he seemed thoughtful rather than angry. Then he laughed.
“You are a meddlesome woman, Isabel Farramont. Shall I tell you the truth? I think I shall, although it is not quite the grand passion you speak of, more a sort of affectionate friendship.”
“Sophie,” she said at once.
“Yes, Sophie. I had forgotten how well we got along, yet meeting her again it is as if the years have fallen away and we are… not children, precisely, but not quite adult, either. We meet in some time and place where the world does not intrude. But itdidintrude, five years ago, for she all but ignored me in town, and then married Martin Hearle. I never understood that, Izzy. When we went south that year, I had it in mind that I would marry Sophie. She is exactly the sort of woman I like — pretty, well-bred, well-educated, but not too grand. Someone who would be a perfect helpmeet for me. The Davenports may have a long lineage, but we have neither high rank nor great wealth. So I thought it would be a good match. Well, you know what happened there.” He gave a low chuckle. “I met you, and you drove all thought of Sophie out of my head, so it was my own fault, I suppose. But right from the start, she ignored me — told me she would not dance with me, though she had done so often enough in the past. She said she wanted to meet new people.And the next thing I knew, she had married Martin Hearle, a complete nobody.”
“And now she is a widow,” Izzy said.
“Yes, but… with no children. I am the only son, Izzy. I must have children. So however well we get on, she is not for me. Even if I were not already bound to Ruth Plowman, I could not even think about Sophie.”
Izzy was torn. Sophie had told her much in confidence, which she could not break, but the happiness of two people could not be allowed to drift away without some push to secure it.
“Sydney, marriage is a most uncertain business. One can never be confident of children. They come, or not, at God’s pleasure. If you marry Ruth, you might have none at all, or only girls. If you marry Sophie, you could have half a dozen sturdy sons.”
“Or none at all.”
“Indeed. You are making my point for me. However carefully one rationalises the business, there is no guarantee of what a marriage will produce. Look at me, if you want an example. Two lovely daughters, but no son. So marry for love, not for children, and you will not be disappointed, as Farramont is.”
