Would he, too, be joyful? Would he smile back at her adoringly as Walter now gazed at Winnie? Would he speak the responses in a clear, confident voice, in the certainty of a happy future?
It was all so difficult! Should he or should he not? Marriage was such a risky venture, their whole lives at stake. Katherine liked him well enough now, but if once she became accustomed to the wider world of London, would she find him dull? He was not a fine, handsome fellow like Walter, nor a man who took what he wanted from life, like Eustace. He was a nonentity, if he were being honest with himself, a nobody, the unwanted third son with no redeeming features. He had always drifted through life, asking very little from it, but now he had to decide, and he could not bring himself to settle one way or the other.
The service over, the locals meandered away to drink the newly married pair’s health in the White Horse, while carriages conveyed the earl’s guests back to Corland, for much the same purpose, although in champagne instead of ale. Everyone gathered in the great hall, the autumn sunshine filtering down from the glass roof far above.
There was another cause for celebration, too. Mr Nicholson, the seemingly benign chaplain murdered in the summer, had not only not been ordained and thereby rendered all the earl’s children illegitimate, but he had been quietly lining his pockets for years at the expense of the estate. But now his accumulated wealth had been tracked down and a sizeable proportion of it returned to the earl — no less than forty and perhaps as much as fifty thousand pounds.
For about five minutes, Kent had been excited — surely now his father would allow him to establish himself in a profession? But not so. He was still happy to finance Kent if he married, but he would not hear of him leaving the family home.
“Walter is insisting on going away to London to make a name for himself, and Eustace is hardly ever here. You will not deprive me of my only remaining son, surely?” he said plaintively.
“Indeed, I would not wish to leave you, Father, you know that, but nor do I wish to live on your charity forever. I should like to make my own way in the world, as third sons have done since time immemorial. It is only right, and especially so now that I am not even a legitimate son. Yes, yes, I know it makes no difference to you, but to the world, it does. Father, I should like to be respected for myself, not simply because I am your son. If Walter has the chance to do that, why not me?”
“I could not stop him,” the earl said glumly, “and in all honesty, I had not the heart to do so. Walter has had by far the worst of this business. For almost thirty years, he has been the heir to the title and estate, he was Viscount Birtwell, a person of some importance in society. Now, he has nothing, and if playing around at the Treasury with Alfred Strong gives him a little pleasure, who am I to deny him that? He will get bored soon enough, I dare say, and Langley Villa will still be there waiting for him and Winnie.”
“And I have no quarrel with that, but…” Kent hesitated, but if he did not ask directly, he would never know. “What about this fortune of Nicholson’s that has found its way back to you? A very little of that would set me up perfectly.”
“To run off and play about with engines? AnAtherton, fooling about with such devices, and getting his hands dirty? I should think not! Besides, I shall need a good bit of that money to set up Olivia with a suitable dowry. She has ambitions, that girl, and I should like to see her well married. As for a career, my boy, what is wrong with the church? Dewar is still young, but old Hammond over at Welwood is not likely to see out many more winters, and think how convenient that would be, to have you so close! I cannot bear to think of you leaving us altogether, you know. You keep us all cheerful with that ready smile of yours, my boy. What would we do without you, eh?”
It was a compliment of sorts, and Kent had not the heart to insist. So he sipped his champagne and ambled about, finding himself eventually beside his cousin Bertram.
“Your turn next,” he said cheerfully.
“I expect so,” Bertram said, his face lighting up just as Walter’s had done. “Bea has settled on a date, so Dewar will read the banns for the first time next Sunday. Of course, there is still the possibility that Uncle Charles will get there before us. Mother has a new candidate for him.” He indicated with a little tilt of the head a woman in green velvet, standing beside Mrs George Atherton. “Miss Marjorie Quick. Quick by name and quick by nature, apparently, for she is reputed to be a bruising rider. Has a huge string of hunters, I am told.”
Miss Quick laughed just then, a great honking laugh. Kent thought she sounded like nothing so much as a goose.
“A keen rider should please Father,” Kent said. “Better than some of the others Aunt Jane has put forward as the next Countess of Rennington, anyway.”
“Oh yes!” Bertram pulled a face. “The terribly pious one — that would never have done.”
“Or the bluestocking.”
“Heavens, yes! What was Mother thinking? But she will leave no stone unturned to get him married off and avoid the dreadful possibility of our branch of the family inheriting, and none of us have any quarrel with that.” He shuddered. “The last thing I want is to be the Earl of Rennington, so the sooner Uncle Charles marries again and cuts me out the better. But what of you, cousin? Now that Walter is wed, since Eustace seems to like his freedom, it must be your turn and you have someone in your eye, if Emily is to be believed.”
“I cannot say,” Kent said. “I have not yet settled in my mind what I want to do. How did you decide? You were determined not to succumb to Miss Franklyn when she first announced her determination to marry you, and yet… here you are, banns about to be called.”
“I kissed her,” Bertram said, with a quick laugh. “Or at least, she kissed me… no, I definitely kissed her… There was kissing, anyway, and then… everything was different. I am not much help, am I? But even if you were to kiss Miss Parish, there is no getting past the lack of dowry, although perhaps that does not matter so much, now that Nicholson’s ill-gotten gains have been recovered. Your father will put up some of that tidy sum to settle on your bride, I am sure.”
“He would do so, but the price for that is that we live here, and then I shall never escape, cousin. I shall never see the foundry in Birmingham where those marvellous beam engines are constructed. I shall never see one in action, never hear the noise or feel the power as it works.”
“You could always take a wedding tour to Birmingham, if your bride were agreeable. Most women prefer a more scenic location, but I am sure she would be happy to oblige you. Or there are engines here in the north… Leeds, I have heard. Many of these mill towns have engines.”
“Branton,” Kent murmured. “Katherine’s home, Branton, is a mill town.”
“What could be better? Take her to see all her friends, then, and while she chats over the teacups, you can look at these engines.”
All Kent could see was that at the end of it, they would have to come back to Corland Castle and live there for the rest of their lives. “I need something more,cousin, something new and exciting and fascinating, and most of all, I need a profession so that I may live an independent life and not be forever beholden to my father for every last farthing.
“Perhaps you are right, cousin,” Bertram said ruefully. “Far be it from me to give you advice, but you will never get yourself a profession and an independent life if you sit under your father’s wings all the time. You are a grown man, so why not simply pack up and go? To Birmingham, if that is where your interest lies. You must have money enough for it, for your allowance is larger than mine and you cannot spend even the half of it. Presumably you have made something from Eustace’s little enterprise, too.”
Kent laughed. “You make it sound so easy — just pack up and go!”
“Itiseasy. You know, Kent, you are far too good-natured for this world. Your father wants you to stay, so you stay. Eustace wants your help, so you help. Miss Parish likes to ride, so you go riding with her. Olivia wants you to squire her about, and you do it. No doubt if Miss Parish decides she would like a husband, you will oblige her in that, too, whether you want it or not. But giving way to everyone else is not necessarily going to make you happy. Do something for yourself for a change.”
“But do I have any right to be happy?” he murmured.
“Ah, you are minded to be philosophical,” Bertram said, with a quick laugh. “I shall need far more champagne before I can tackle a question like that.”
