“She would be penniless!” Michael said, appalled. “That is dreadful! Yet… it must be so, must it not? Luce told me I must do what is right, and now I understand what she meant. Poor Tess! She has lost the man she loved and now she has lost her fortune, too. But at least she need not be told just yet. When I go back to Pickering and get into that house, I will discover the safe and the gold bars, as if for the first time, and that will be the time to tell the earl of their existence. Until then, let the poor girl keep her dreams.”
16: An Axe And An Urn
Tess was surprised to find herself disappointed that Edward had left already. Why had he come all the way to Corland, which was not on the way to or from anywhere, only to leave again almost at once? He seemed to have told everyone about Tom already, so perhaps that was his sole purpose, and now he had gone home again. She felt oddly bereft.
She was one of the last to enter the drawing room before dinner, sidling into an unexpectedly full and noisy room.
“Tess! Dear girl, where have you been all this time?” The familiar face of the earl’s brother loomed out of the crowd.
“Oh, here and there, Uncle George.”
“And betrothed, I hear,” he said, with an arch look. “I wish you joy, my dear.”
“Thank you, uncle, but it will be a lengthy engagement, I fear, since Mama will not give her permission.”
“You must bring your young man to meet us all. I am sure once your mama is assured that you have chosen wisely, she will not withhold her consent. But my goodness, what a summer ithas been for betrothals. Walter is to marry Winnie Strong — did you know that? And Bertram is engaged to Bea Franklyn.”
“Bertram? Bea Franklyn? And Walter and Winnie? No, I did not know that! I am all astonishment, uncle.”
“So were we, to be frank,” he said in a lowered voice. “You young people, you seem to make up your minds to it all in a rush.”
“I thought you and Aunt Jane had a very quick courtship,” Tess said. “Five weeks, was it not?”
He looked a trifle abashed. “Oh well… yes, that is true. Sometimes, one knows one’s own mind. So tell me about this young man of yours — Mr Frith, is it not? He has an estate near Durham, I understand?”
Tess said what she could about Ulric, but when Uncle George asked her what in particular attracted her to him, she was hard pressed to answer. The truth — that he was a gentleman, but one who was so uninterested in her that she could do as she pleased — was not an idea she wished to put into words. Uncle George was sweet to pretend that this was a normal betrothal based on mutual affection, but he must know perfectly well how things stood.
Happily, Aunt Jane soon interrupted them to introduce a friend of hers who was staying for a while, a Miss Hannah Snellgrove, so Uncle George drifted away, leaving the three ladies to make laboured conversation. Tess was not much minded for the usual inane chatter of the drawing room when her head was so full of her own problems, and Miss Snellgrove seemed not to have much conversation, either. Fortunately, Aunt Jane was perfectly capable of talking for three, and moreover soon took her friend away to meet the Edgertons, who could at least be relied upon to dredge up suitable drawing room chatter.
Tess retreated to a poorly-lit corner where she could skulk and not be called upon to talk. If she had had Edward there… but he was gone, and there was no one else who knew all her secrets and to whom she could unburden herself. She watched the milling crowd in the drawing room in a detached way, almost as if she were the audience watching a play on the stage. She had nothing in common with these people. Tom, with his shy smile and his clever hands turning plain wood into beautiful objects, that was where her heart lay. And Edward, too, understood her. At least he could give her a tolerable game of chess. But her own kin? No. Almost she felt she must be a changeling, she was so different from them.
At last they went through to the dining room, Miss Snellgrove on Uncle Charles’ arm, as the guest of honour. The earl looked at the lady rather strangely, Tess thought, almost as if… no, surely not. Lord Rennington was long married, and would not be so crass as to display open admiration for another woman, would he? It was true that Miss Snellgrove was rather pretty, and many men would be delighted to strike up a flirtation with her, but not the earl, she would have said.
But when they were all seated, Tess found herself next to her cousin Kent, who grinned and said, “Father seems to like this one better than the others.”
“You refer to Miss Snellgrove? What others?”
“Aunt Jane has been inviting likely candidates for weeks now, but this is the first really pretty one. Oh, did you not know? Candidates to be the next Countess of Rennington.”
“But what about Aunt Caroline?” Tess squeaked.
“It was her idea,” Kent said. “Now that we know that your perfidious father was never ordained and Father’s marriage was never legal, he needs to get more sons. Legal ones, that is. Mother is too old for that, so she has stepped aside to allow himto choose a second wife. This one might just catch his fancy, do you not think?”
Tess was too shocked to answer. Poor Aunt Caroline! Cast aside after thirty years of marriage, to be replaced by someone younger, able to bear sons. She had said nothing about it when Tess had seen her at Harfield.
For a while, everyone concentrated on the food, but once the soup was removed with a shoulder of lamb and ribs of beef, and all the dishes had been passed around, conversation began again. Tess noticed Miss Snellgrove talking animatedly to the earl, while he said very little, shaking his head occasionally.
“What do you suppose they are talking about?” she whispered to Kent. “Whatever it is, she seems more enthusiastic about the subject than Uncle Charles.”
Kent grinned, and called the butler over. “What topic is it that has so animated Miss Snellgrove, Simpson?”
“Essays on morality, sir,” Simpson said in an undertone.
Tess felt her eyebrows rise. “Can it be that the very pretty Miss Snellgrove is a bluestocking?”
Kent laughed. “How amusing! Do keep an eye on Father. Another five minutes of philosophising on morality and his eyes will glaze over. So what should we talk about, cousin? You will not have much to say about your betrothed, I dare say, and although I should like to know where you were when you were supposed to be in Helmsley, I doubt you will tell me.”
“Are you quite sure I wasnotat Helmsley? When you called at my friend’s house, I might have been indisposed or out at the modiste’s.”
