Scarlett was surprised.She looked over at Miss Marburry.The girl was perfectly attractive and perfectly nice, and she did have a modest dowry, from what Scarlett recalled.More than sufficient for Malcolm’s station in life.
“I believe she has spoken to him of the matter,” Miss Marburry said.“And that is why he has asked me to walk with him this afternoon.”
Scarlett nearly stumbled.Her first reaction wasno,thatcannot be true.She had never seen Malcolm express interest in Miss Marburry.
But why would the girl lie?She was not malicious.And she seemed to suspect nothing of her own connection with Malcolm.
“I do think he would be a suitable husband.And I would accept him if he asked for my hand.And under the circumstances, I believe that is his intent.If he is well enough for the excursion, of course.”
It was highly improper for the girl to be speaking of it.Unless she was really certain.It dawned on Scarlett that Miss Marburry really must believe that such an offer was nigh.
“I will wish you joy, then,” Scarlett managed in a strangled voice.“On such an occasion.”
Parkhorne Hall loomed in the distance.Thankfully, Miss Marburry said no more for the rest of the walk.But in the time it took for Scarlett to travel the last quarter mile toward Parkhorne, she decided a great many things.
The first was that Miss Marburry must be correct—after all, she was a close friend of the family, of Mrs.Salisbury, and had been since girlhood.Mrs.Salisbury would have every reason to want to settle her favorite near Parkhorne.Miss Marburry certainly seemed struck with Malcolm—and there was no denying that she had no hope with George.
And Mrs.Salisbury must be in the position to give Malcolm much patronage, as the mother of the owner of the estate.He would want to please her.Yes, he had told Scarlett that he planned to never marry, that he would make any woman miserable, but Miss Marburry certainly did not seem demanding.She wanted only, Scarlett had to reason, a comfortable home in a familiar location and a husband who was acceptable to her personal tastes.
If his family wanted the match, she could understand why, given his strong principles and his position, he would feel honor-bound to accept it.
Scarlett realized that she had been indulging a fantasy.She had been imagining that this man would chooseher.That Malcolm would choose her over all others, because he had touched her nicely and whispered some sweet nothings to her in the dark.
With all the force of horrible logic, it hit her.The truth that, as a woman of her class, she had always been taught and warned again and again that to forfeit her virtue would be fatal.Men did not marry women they tupped furtively in corners.They did not marry women who held secrets from their relations.And she only had herself to blame for her position, for her own heartbreak.She had thrown herself at him without heeding what she knew about their world and how marriages actually took place.
She, Scarlett Perkins, plump, plain, and penniless, had been delusional.
She would never be chosen by a man like Mr.Malcolm Brown.Or any man, for that matter.She would never bechosen—never mind chosen first.
Second, given that Malcolm and Miss Marburry might soon be announcing their engagement, Scarlett had to take action.
She needed to leave Parkhorne Hall at once.
Chapter Thirty-One
Malcolm knew that,strictly speaking, he had gone a little mad.
The woman had already rejected his proposals twice.It was very likely that she would do so again.
Nevertheless, after last night, he knew that he must try to secure Scarlett Perkins’s hand.If she chose not to be his wife, he would have to live with that disappointment.He wasn’t sure how he would bear it.But he would rather live with her rejection than wonder if she might have consented to be his wife if he had only asked one more time.
He had worried all his life about being like his father.But last night, after he had parted with Scarlett, after she had given him her love, he knew that what they had was nothing like his father’s connection with any woman.He loved Miss Scarlett Perkins with everything within him.He had only ever lovedher, had only ever wantedher.
He was determined now to have her.
He might not be built to make a woman happy.He might be taciturn and disagreeable.
But she didn’t seem to care.She had told him, after all, that she loved him.
And he didn’t have the strength to hold himself back from her if she was prepared to accept him, with all of his limitations, as he was.
He had always chosen safety before.His role at Parkhorne, his role with his family, had been, if not perfect, then certainly comfortable.Scarlett, too, perhaps, was not unlike him in this way, in her life with her sister and stepmother.He needed to take a risk if he wanted to chance being happy.He was already two-and-thirty.If he wanted to ever be more than one of George’s illegitimate brothers and the steward of Parkhorne Hall, then he needed to act.
He needed Scarlett.
The problem was that, at present, he had no establishment to offer a lady.He couldn’t very well propose that they live together in an old hunting lodge on his brother’s estate.
Luckily, hedidknow of a property that had long interested him, although he had put it out of his mind as inappropriate for a bachelor.It had been known for a twelvemonth that Mr.Dermott wanted to sell the property, a kind of notch in his larger estate.Malcolm had reflected to himself before that, if he were ever to marry, it would be the perfect site for him.Close to Parkhorne and exceedingly comfortable without being luxurious, Cresswell Farm, as it was called locally, would be a residence most suitable to him.
