Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (4 page)

The reality, when Lord Wraybourne finally arrived, had, therefore, been stunning. He was not precisely young, but he was nowhere near her parents’ age. He was well-informed and intelligent, but she was sure he did not spend all his time with his books. His dress might be sober, but it spoke clearly of expensive elegance even to her unsophisticated eye and did not disguise a quality about him for which she did not even have a word. In all her dreams of a husband, even in the dreams of her own Sir Galahad, the shape of the man’s body had played no part. Yet it was this—the fluidity of movement, the bones of his face, the fine strength of his hands—which overwhelmed her. At times, despite his kindness, she would find her tongue stumbling over commonplaces or chattering inanities, something she was sure she would never have done with her bishop. Jane was at a loss to determine whether she was delighted . . . or terrified out of her wits.

For the first time in her life, she had given consideration to her appearance and been dismayed. She was forbidden to have a mirror in her rooms for fear she be vain, but there were mirrors around the house. She examined her plain, rather ill-fitting dresses and her hair in a thick plait down her back with dismay, and wished passionately for something more—something about her that would be capable of attracting this man. She was sure he would find her wanting and go on his way; and, though she feared him, she feared his absence more.

Then, one day she had found herself, without warning, alone with him for the first time. When she understood she was about to receive his offer, she had been panic-stricken. He was a being from another world. She was sure she could not live up to his expectations. She could never stand to live with the disturbance of the nerves that his mere presence caused her, nor the trembling which was the unsettling result of the slightest contact between them.

Yet, when he had finished speaking to her and patiently awaited her reply, she had known that she could not bear to have him leave the house, never to return. Whatever the cost, marriage to him was preferable to that. She had accepted his proposal. His strong hand over hers as he slipped the Kyle sapphire upon her finger set her nerves atremble once more, and, when she felt his lips against her cheek in a kiss, she had begun to shake in earnest.

“You must not be afraid of me, Jane,” he said. “I promise there is no need.”

Jane was not afraid of him exactly. It was only that, having once accepted the reality of a future with such a god-like figure, she was terrified she would in some way fail and lose this glimpse of heaven. She had confessed that she was sure she would disappoint him and he had coolly reassured her.

“I am not such a fool as that, Jane. I know you have all the qualities I look for in a wife.”

Those were precisely the words that had come back to haunt her so often since. For not long after the earl’s departure, Lady Sandiford had summoned Jane to her
boudoir
.

“I am most disappointed in you, Jane,” she said most sternly. “You are neglecting both your lessons and your duties, choosing instead to moon about the place like an ill-bred widgeon. Is this the behavior you intend to visit upon your husband? He will not thank you, Miss, I assure you. He was assured by me that you are strictly reared and of high moral principles, quite without missish imaginings or romantical inclinations. Will you make a liar of me, Miss?
I will not have it.
You are not yet too old for a whipping. Lord Wraybourne has chosen you for your pedigree, your dowry, and your impeccable upbringing. Do not shame me. Do not disappoint him.”

There was no question of doubting her mother’s word. Lady Sandiford was resolutely honest. Jane had then realized what Lord Wraybourne’s words had meant. How could she disappoint him when he looked only for money, bloodlines, and high principles? Her money and ancestry were fixed qualities. Doubtless his visit had been to assure himself that her principles were all they were claimed to be. Though it had been painful, she was now grateful for her mother’s rebuke which had saved Jane from embarrassing both herself and her betrothed with uncalled-for warmth, perhaps even driving him away with her girlish enthusiasms.

Thinking back, with the newssheet still in her hand, Jane sighed. She slipped into a bedroom where there was a cheval glass and looked at herself again. How silly she had been to think for a moment that he could have any interest in her with her schoolgirl dresses and hair pulled so severely back off her face. Nor could she flatter herself that he had been overwhelmed by the brilliance of her mind and the sharpness of her wit. Shyness had kept her tongue-tied most of the time she was with him.

Ah well, she thought as she went on her way to her sitting room, perhaps in time she could gain his true regard. And even if her marriage should prove to be lacking in warmth she would still get away from Carne. She would meet Society, entertain, perhaps even travel. . . . It was strange how these enticements no longer thrilled her.

However, Mrs. Hawley
was
thrilled to have an up-to-date copy of the newspaper to read at leisure. The schoolroom ban on the paper theoretically extended to herself. Though copies usually passed through the servants’ hall once the family had done with them, by the time she had leisure to skim one, it was tattered and often weeks behind the times. Now, she studied the
Post
intently, reading out pieces of interest, until Jane interrupted.

“That is such dull stuff. I know none of the people. And Papa will doubtless instruct me as to the importance of the Prussian invasion of Dresden.”

The Sandifords’ desire to protect their daughter from the newspapers did not mean they wished her to be ignorant. Each evening Jane received a tedious lecture from her father about the most important happenings.

Mrs. Hawley sighed. Jane had been in a withdrawn mood ever since Lord Wraybourne’s visit and offer for her hand.

“You will doubtless follow all the business of Society with great interest in a few months when you are married,” she said cheerfully.

“Yes, of course,” responded Jane calmly, which dismayed Mrs. Hawley even more.

For a little while she had thought that Jane was truly happy with the husband chosen for her, and yet that seemed not to be the case. She had expected Jane to want to discuss her future husband, make plans, weave dreams; but, having accepted the ring upon her finger, the girl seemed to have put the whole matter out of her head. And yet, there was something . . . Mrs. Hawley wished she knew what was going on beneath her charge’s calm demeanor.

“Lord Wraybourne moves in the highest levels of Society,” she said, trying again. “The house parties at Stenby are famous. You will like to be hostess there.”

“Will I?” Jane’s mouth curved in a smile that did not reach her eyes. “You must know, Beth, that I am quite unprepared for that kind of life.”

Mrs. Hawley saw a glimmer of trepidation in Jane’s eyes and thought, with relief, that she understood her friend’s problem at last. Jane knew little of the ways of Lord Wraybourne’s set and was equally aware of the limitations of her upbringing. Luckily, with Beth to assist her, that was a matter which would be easily corrected.

“You will learn, my dear. And Lord Wraybourne will not expect you to manage your household immediately.”

“Oh,
that
doesn’t bother me,” Jane said. “After all, I have been taught household management. Though I’m sure there will be many differences. I hope so at least. It would be pleasant to have a good fire on a cold day. I am confident of my abilities in that direction. Still, I don’t know anybody in Society. I don’t know anybody anywhere. Lord Wraybourne will not want me hanging upon his sleeve,” she said firmly. “He will expect me to live my own life, I am sure, but how I am to do so I have no idea.”

With this admission of fear, about which she seemed to be very much ashamed, Jane left immediately to prepare for the meal which she always ate with her parents. Mrs. Hawley gathered her warm shawl around herself and settled close to the small fire to read the
Post
but could not concentrate. Instead, she considered Jane’s problem.

She had worried that the girl had taken a dislike to the earl but felt pressured into accepting his offer. It was difficult to imagine what fault Jane could find in Lord Wraybourne, though tastes varied, it was true. If the girl was nervous because of her ignorance of Society, however, that was a relatively simple problem to solve, or would be if Lady Sandiford did not have such antipathy towards any purely social occasion.

Jane really should have had a Season. With her marriage fixed only months away it was too late for that. . . . Or was it? Lady Sandiford detested the Season. She called it a circus for those of low class or low morals. The only part of it she acknowledged was the presentation at court, and she intended that Jane attend a Drawing Room after her marriage. Mrs. Hawley had been surprised by the Sandifords’ choice of husband for Jane and detected in it the workings of pride. If Lady Sandiford would bend her haughty ideals to achieve a brilliant match for her daughter, perhaps she would bend them further to ensure the marriage was not a fiasco.

Mrs. Hawley was interrupted in her thoughts by the arrival of her dinner tray but continued to worry at the problem as she ate, without coming to any solution. When she was summoned to the drawing room to accompany Jane’s singing she still had no line of attack planned. Luck, however, was to play straight into her hands.

Jane had a lovely contralto voice. Sir Jeffrey also sang well and joined his daughter in a duet, complimenting her afterwards.

“It is a pity,” said Lady Sandiford coldly, “that one cannot converse in song. Perhaps then, Jane, we might hear more from you at the dinner table.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Jane said quietly. “I cannot think of anything to say.”

“Polite conversation does not require thought, Jane. It is a habit, as are good manners. Mrs. Hawley, have you not taught Jane the Art of Conversation?”

Amazed, Beth saw her opening. “The Art of Conversation cannot adequately be learned in the schoolroom, Lady Sandiford. It needs practice in real situations.”

After a few moments of silence, Lady Sandiford asked, “What would you recommend, Mrs. Hawley?”

“I would recommend that Jane spend some time in polite Society before she assumes the dignity of the Countess of Wraybourne, Your Ladyship.”

This time the silence seemed to stretch forever. Nonetheless, Lady Sandiford, despite her many limitations, was a shrewd woman and worked through the arguments without assistance. There was no point in spending the interval in nearby Cheltenham. Who of importance would Jane meet there? If it were to be done it must be done thoroughly.

“A few weeks in London might be wise,” she announced at last. “I will write to Lord Wraybourne. Jane, you may enclose a note if you wish.”

Lady Sandiford turned to her husband. “You agree, Sir Jeffrey?” This was rhetorical, of course. “I dislike the necessity, but I would not wish Lord Wraybourne to find Jane wanting in social accomplishments. He has a sister making her curtsy this year. Jane will accompany her. Sophia. Yes, Lady Sophia. I am sure that a sister of Lord Wraybourne is a decorous and modest young lady. The old Lord Wraybourne was a most admirable man of the highest principles. There can be no impediment to the matter.”

Mrs. Hawley wondered what would happen if this arbitrary rearrangement of everyone’s plans was
not
agreeable but was not about to raise any objection to such a desirable outcome of her interference.

Back in the schoolroom, Jane, who had not shown any apparent interest in the discussion, looked at her governess wide-eyed. “Oh, Beth, what am I to do?”

“What do you mean, Jane?”

“I cannot go to London! I know no one. I am ignorant of dancing and all the social conventions. I will appear a veritable bumpkin!”

Mrs. Hawley was amazed to see that her charge was almost in tears. “But this is your chance to learn, my dear. You would have to join Society eventually.”

Jane sat and stared at the meager fire, with the pallor of one condemned to death. “I had thought it would be after I had been married for some time.”

Mrs. Hawley took her charge’s cold hands. “Your marriage will be a Society affair. Even during your honeymoon there will be coming and going. The Earl and Countess of Wraybourne will not live in seclusion. It will be much better to practice your social arts on strangers than upon your husband and his friends.”

Jane swallowed tears. Her governess had confirmed her fears. “You are saying he will be ashamed of me.”

“No, dear, of course not. There is nothing wrong with your behavior. It is just that you will find things strange. All young girls do,” she lied. “Those doing their first Season are expected to be a bit ignorant and wide-eyed. A countess is not. Better to be shocked and surprised now than later.”

Jane looked at the Kyle sapphire on her finger and sighed. Though it seemed Lord Wraybourne had chosen her as his bride for practical reasons, she was haunted by the fear that he would realize her many shortcomings and change his mind. When the wedding had been planned to occur before Jane’s presentation, she had believed her married future to be
a fait accompli.
Now it appeared she would have to prove herself. He probably
would
wish her to be sophisticated as well as rich, moral, and unromantical, though how he could realistically expect such a thing she could not imagine.

“I suppose I can try to fit into that world,” she said at last. “As long as I still have my dowry and my virtue, I do not suppose Lord Wraybourne will lightly break the engagement.”

Mrs. Hawley was confused by this speech, but she could reassure her charge. “He cannot possibly back out of the marriage, Jane. That would be unthinkable for a gentleman. Only the lady may do so, and then only at risk of being labelled a jilt.”

“Is that truly so?” Jane asked, seeing reprieve.