“Miss Moore, if you are finished, please come and join us,” Lady Demsworth called from across the room. She and the Turnballs sat near the hearth, close to where Peter had been, though his chair was now empty.
Weighing my options, I decided conversation with Lady Demsworth would better serve Clara’s endeavors than watching a game of chess. I offered my regrets as Lieutenant Rawles pulled out the chessboard and found a seat opposite Georgiana, whose arms were crossed defiantly. She was clearly put out, and I could not blame her. Clara had Sir Ronald’s attention for the night.
“... Mr. Turnball was so surprised I said yes, he couldn’t speak for an entire minute. You see, I’d already had seven other offers! He did not think he stood a chance,” Mrs. Turnball concluded, and I tried to piece together her words. What sort of conversation had I walked into?
“Poor man,” Lady Demsworth hid her laugh behind a gloved hand. “His courage proved worthwhile in the end.”
“What about you, Lady Demsworth?” Beatrice asked eagerly. “Surely you had just as many offers of marriage as my mother. However did you choose? Might I ask you to divulge your story as well?”
“Oh, it was not at all interesting, dear. Our marriage was arranged by our parents early on. I am afraid my experience withchoosinga partner is lacking.” Lady Demsworth tilted her head as though an idea had just occurred to her. She clasped her hands, smiling as she gazed around the room. “Might I ask for your help with something? All of you?”
“Of course,” Beatrice said seriously, and the rest of us agreed.
Lady Demsworth continued. “Someone to whom I am very close has asked for my help in choosing a marriage partner. Thus far, my advice has yielded no result, and I blame my inexperience. But perhaps with your opinions, I might find the answers I need.”
I blinked, looking between the ladies in the room. She could not be referring to Sir Ronald, could she? Did Lady Demsworth know of Clara’s intentions with her son? Or of Georgiana’s? Or was there someone else in the room pursuing a romantic endeavor? Judging from the raised brows and anxious, stolen looks, the women beside me had similar questions.
“What advice could we possibly give a stranger?” Georgiana asked curiously. “Perhaps if we knew the person to whom you refer—”
“I am anything but a gossip, Miss Wood.” Lady Demsworth smiled coyly. “I am simply curious as to your thoughts on the meaning of marriage. Of course, it is different when you consider the perspective of a woman as opposed to a man, so you may answer for both. I shall open it up to your discussion as you wish.”
What a curious topic, and certainly not too broadly debatable. Marriage was something we women thought about every day of our lives. It defined us, our status, and our security. In fact, without it, we were left with little control, if any at all, over our lives. Regardless of what she claimed, Lady Demsworth was not naive of the subject. So why did she care what our opinions were?
“Well,” Beatrice started, “to a man, marriage is binding, but to a woman, it is freedom.”
“Very good,” Lady Demsworth nodded. “Women require marriage to enjoy freedom from the burden of livelihood, while men marry to claim her loyalty.”
She raised her chin, glancing between Georgiana and me, as though judging which one of us would speak first. I knew little on the topic of romantic marriage. I was a product of marriage made out of obligation between my own parents and had witnessed marriage made for status after my father died. What advice could I possibly offer that would be of benefit to some hopeful soul?
“Love.” Georgiana straightened. “Marriage means love to both a man and a woman. It is a commitment of that love for a lifetime, above all else.”
Love? If there was one thing I could not rely upon, it was love.
“I disagree,” I said before I could retract my tongue. Every eye in our circle turned to me.
“Go on, Miss Moore,” Lady Demsworth encouraged, a renewed interest in her eyes.
Images of my parents flooded my memory. Love had clouded my Father’s rational thinking that night at the ball so long ago. It had ruined my mother, changing her into an entirely different person. But worst of all, love had resulted in betrayal, pain, and bitterness for Lord Gray.
Couldmarriage be enveloped in genuine love? The kind of love that never chipped or faded away with time? My own experience negated the idea, but it was all I had. All I knew. I drew a steady breath, staring at my hands.
“Many marriages find misery when built on the notion that love will be enough to see them through. More often than not, we marry because we have to. Whether for wealth, status, security, or simply adding on to an estate. When the banns are read and the contract is made, we bring our skills and our best efforts to the task. Love is never guaranteed.”
Silence filled the air, and I feared I’d said too much. I should have kept my thoughts to myself, or at least shortened the explanation. I pursed my lips in regret.
“Enlightening.” Lady Demsworth seemed satisfied, as though my words were the answer she’d hoped to hear. But why? Surely my opinion was the most unromantic, unpopular, and unoptimistic of all.
“What do you say, Mr. Wood?” Lady Demsworth said. “I know you are eavesdropping as it has been minutes since you turned a page.”
I jumped when a chair creaked behind me. Turning slowing, I saw Peter had reclaimed his earlier seat, an open book in his hand. When had he returned? I fought the urge to hide my face in my hands for having been so bold and open with my thoughts. And about marriage. How mortifying!
With an amused smile, he slipped a bookmark into the pages and closed the cover. “I would have a hard time not overhearing with your party so perfectly positioned beside me.”
“Well?” Lady Demsworth pressed.
“He will say that marriage is all money and business,” Georgiana said knowingly. But that could not be true. Peter, as I knew him, was deeply romantic. Surely he thought love the most important factor in marriage. Yet another subject we disagreed on.
“It can be, and most often is, Georgiana.” He narrowed his eyes at her in brotherly annoyance. “But in my interpretation, you are each right,” he said. He straightened in his chair, a seriousness in his countenance. “Marriage means companionship. A merging of lives and loyalty. Yes, it is binding, and yes, sometimes it is more beneficial to one party than to the other in terms of monetary or social value. But it is more about what two people can be together than who they are individually.”
