Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (4 page)

She took a delight in seeing that Mr Weld did not exert himself. This pleased and yet disturbed him. He enjoyed her attentions, but at the same time was aware that they stressed his age.

And one summer’s day when Mr Weld seemed to find the heat too much for him and she exerted her charming tyranny and insisted that he sit in the shade with her instead of going to ride, she thought he seemed a little sad and she mentioned this.

He said: ‘There is only one thing that makes me sad, Maria. It is because I am not twenty years younger.’

‘Why should that make you sad? The young are often very foolish.’

‘It makes me said because I am not your age. Then I could ask you to marry me and if you said yes I should no longer have any reason to be sad.’

‘You might ask me to marry you,’ she told him severely, ‘which is something you have not done yet, although you have spoken to my uncle and my parents on this matter. Perhaps if you were to ask
me
…’

A look of great joy came into his face.

‘Maria,’ he said, ‘will you marry me?’

‘But certainly I will,’ answered Maria; and she laughed with pleasure to see his joy.

Edward Weld was delighted with his marriage; as soon as Maria had agreed he had hurried on the ceremony and Walter and Mary Smythe congratulated themselves that their eldest child had done very well. With little effort and no expense they had arranged for her an advantageous union, for at eighteen years old she was comfortably settled; her home was a castle; her husband was rich and indulgent and most important of all a Catholic.

As for Maria, she was very happy. It was gratifying to know that she could make her husband so happy; he delighted in showing her off to his friends and there were frequent house-parties at Lulworth Castle. Maria quickly learned to become a good hostess; the poise she had acquired in France was an additional asset and she could converse with the grace and ease of a much older person; and as she matured a little she grew even more beautiful.

Edward Weld could not do enough for her. Her portrait must be painted. He must always be able to see Maria as she was during this first year of marriage. He would have her painted beside him. There was a picture of him in the castle hall in which he was portrayed with his first wife, and as there was room to paint in Maria on the other side of him this was done. He was delighted with the result and whenever he came into the hall he would stand for a few moments looking at himself with the two women on either side of him, but his eyes would linger on Maria.

Then he decided that Maria should have a portrait to herself and he summoned Gainsborough to Lulworth.

When the artist arrived he was delighted by the beauty of the sitter but a little surprised that she wore her hair in its natural state. He commented on this.

‘Madam, the ladies of the Court wear wigs or powder their hair.’

‘Do they indeed, Mr Gainsborough?’ reported Maria. ‘I do not.’

Mr Gainsborough could not hide his dismay, for this portrait would not look like those which he was accustomed to painting. It was clear that he wished his sitter would make some concession to fashion.

Maria had spirit, her husband was not displeased to note. He liked to see a little fire in his goddess; she quite clearly had not taken to Mr Gainsborough; but he was surprised when after the first sitting she came to him, her eyes flashing with an indignation he had never seen before.

‘Would you believe it, Edward, that man has given me a grey wig!’

Edward went to see the portrait and it was true that Gainsborough had sketched in her curly hair with grey impaste.

The next day, however, Maria told Mr Gainsborough that she had no intention of giving him another sitting. The painter shrugged his shoulders; he would be paid for what he had done and there were many people more important than Mrs Weld of Lulworth who were asking for his services.

‘Why,’ said Mr Weld, as the artist drove away from the castle, ‘what a determined young person you are to be sure!’

Maria laughed. ‘Was I right, Edward, in thinking that you wished for a portrait of your devoted wife?’

‘You were indeed.’

‘Well, I was determined that you should have that or nothing. Do you imagine I wished Mr Gainsborough to present you with some Court beauty who bore no resemblance to her whom you have honoured with your name.’

Edward smiled fondly.

‘We’ll find an artist who will give me exactly what I want – which is my own Maria.’

Edward Weld was forty-five – not a great age certainly, but since he did not enjoy good health it occurred to him that the time had come for him to make sure that in the event of his death Maria would inherit all he had, for if he did not make a new will the castle and everything he possessed would go to his brother Thomas.

He therefore took the first opportunity of going to see his lawyers and instructing them to draft a new will which was to be brought to the castle at the earliest opportunity.

This was done and delivered at the castle for his signature. He could not resist telling Maria what he had done, so he sent one of the servants to her room and asked her to come to him in the library.

She came in a riding habit of a most elegant cut, for another thing Maria had learned in France was how to dress to advantage, and as ever Edward was deeply conscious of her beauty.

‘Ah, my love, how delightful you look.’

‘Such a lovely morning, Edward. I have come to insist that you come riding with me.’

‘It will give me great pleasure. But first I have something to show you. I have made a new will.’

She looked alarmed and he laughed at her. ‘I am not going to die, dearest Maria, simply because I make a will.’

‘I hate talk of wills.’

‘Bless you. But these things have to be. This will be signed and put away and then we will talk of it no more and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that should anything happen to me, my Maria is comfortably settled.’

‘You are so good to me, dear Edward.’

He smiled at her fondly and she sat down while he read the contents of the will to her. Apart from a few legacies everything was for her.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘The witnesses have to sign. We will get this settled immediately.’

‘But then it will be too late to ride. Have you forgotten that the Framptons are coming over from Moreton. There is just time to ride if you have to change. The will can be signed after the Framptons’ visit.’

Ever ready to please her he put the will into his bureau,
locked it and went to change into his riding clothes.

It was a lovely morning. Galloping across the fields, walking their horses close to the sea, they talked of the Framptons and other friends and new furnishings Maria had decided on for certain rooms in the castle.

The time passed quickly and soon Maria was reminding him that they must return to the castle if they were to change in time to greet the Framptons.

As they cantered across the park surrounding the castle Edward’s horse stumbled over a molehill and he was thrown right out of the saddle. He lay still on the grass while the horse cantered back to the stables.

Maria hastily dismounted.

‘Edward,’ she cried. ‘Oh … my dearest …’

Edward opened his eyes.

‘Thank God,’ she cried. ‘Edward, I am going to get help … Just lie still … and wait.’

Edward was apparently uninjured by the fall but his doctors advised him to remain in bed for a week or so. The incident had been a great shock to him, they said.

Maria proved herself to have another excellent quality: she was a good nurse. A week passed and Edward did not recover. No bones were broken, but it was certain that the fall had had an adverse effect. He seemed to have aged considerably and although he was at peace while Maria was at his bedside his memory seemed to be failing.

Two weeks passed. The doctors shook their heads. They did not understand his condition. The fall had not appeared to be serious and yet after it he changed considerably.

‘Good nursing is what he needs,’ they told Maria. ‘But keep him quiet for a little longer.’

Maria rarely left the sick room; but she noticed that each day her husband was growing more feeble.

And one morning when she went into his room and spoke to him he did not answer.

She went close to the bed and stared at him. One glance was enough to show her that she was a widow.

Mrs Fitzherbert

IT WAS NOT
until the will was read that Maria realized what had happened and that she alone was responsible for her position. The new will had lain unsigned and forgotten in the bureau during Edward’s illness and in the old one there was no mention of Maria. How could there have been? Edward had been unaware of her existence when he had written it. The Castle and Edward’s fortune therefore had all gone to his brother Thomas and there was not a penny for Maria.

Thomas – Edward’s brother – arrived at the castle. He was sorry for Maria and assured her that she would not be left without means of support.

‘You should not concern yourself with me,’ she told him. ‘I shall return to my parents.’

Thomas thought that would be the wisest plan; he would however insist on making her a small allowance which he was sure was what his brother would have wished.

Maria knew that what her husband had wished was to leave her the castle and the bulk of his fortune, but she did not remind Thomas of this. She herself was to blame. Who would have thought on that sunny morning when she had persuaded Edward to postpone the signing of his will that such an act could have the effect of making her a poor widow instead of a rich one?

But she was young and she could not regret the loss of a fortune. She was still mourning for Edward whom she had loved, if not passionately, with devotion and gratitude.

She was delighted when Papa arrived to take her back to Brambridge.

Mary Smythe was glad to have her daughter at home, but she did deplore what she called her lack of worldliness. Edward had been ready to sign his will and what had stopped him was Maria … the chief beneficiary!

‘My goodness!’ cried Mary. ‘What irony! A fortune handed to you and you calmly say, “Later, please. Let us ride first.” Really, Maria!’

‘Oh, Mamma, how was I to know …?’

‘No, no, my dearest, of course you did not. But I think you should try and take a slightly more practical view in future.’

‘Mamma, it is over. Dear Edward is 4ead and I am not rich, though I have enough. I must be content with that.’

Mary Smythe sighed. Her daughter grew more beautiful every day. Would a young widow have as much chance of finding a husband as an unmarried girl? She was not sure, for the widow was very little better off than the young girl had been.

Maria stayed at her parents’ house for some months and then decided to take a cottage nearby on Colden Common, which was not a bad idea. ‘It makes her status clear,’ said Mary to Walter, ‘and after a year of mourning there is no reason why Maria should not go into society again. She will then be under twenty, which, Walter, you must admit is very young. And I begin to think that our Maria is beautiful enough to do without a dowry.’

‘No one is beautiful enough for that, Mary.’

‘You are a cynic, Walter. Maria married Edward, did she not? She would have been rich but for her own folly … well, hardly that – heedlessness. But I doubt not that she has now learned that financial affairs should be settled at the earliest possible moment – and that is a very valuable lesson learned.’

‘At the price of a fortune, yes.’

‘Perhaps my brother will help again. He was very useful before. But Maria must have her year to mourn poor Edward. Then we shall see.’

So Maria settled quietly in her cottage.

Henry Errington was very interested in his sister’s family, having none of his own, and he made up his mind that having succeeded in finding Maria a husband once he would do so again; but like his sister and her husband he agreed that the year of mourning must first be lived through.

Maria found life in her little cottage, with the one servant she could afford, suited to her mood. She thought a great deal of that short period when she had been mistress of Lulworth Castle and was sad mourning poor Edward who had loved her so devotedly and had doubtless shortened his life in trying to keep up with her youth. There had been no need. She had not wished him to.

But she was sensible enough to know that her feeling for him had been no deep-rooted emotion. She had tried to please him because she enjoyed pleasing people; and after a few months she began to find the quiet life at the cottage very much to her taste. She read a great deal; she studied politics, for she quickly realized that she was living in momentous times. The conflict with the American colonies was certainly one of vital importance; she followed the activities of Pitt – now Lord Chatham; and she thought often of affairs in France and was a little sad because the King who had presented her with a dish of sugar plums had died and on the throne was now that gauche young Dauphin and his dainty Austrian-born wife.

Well, nothing remained the same and she wondered how long she would stay in her little cottage on Colden Common. She knew that Uncle Henry had his eye on her. They would soon start matchmaking again. But at the moment there was respite, and she could enjoy it.

As her brother Walter came breathlessly into the cottage, one glance was enough to show her that something was very wrong.

‘Maria,’ he said, ‘come home at once. Papa has been taken very ill.’

She snatched up her cloak and climbed into the trap. She had never seen Walter so serious.

‘Tell me what happened,’ she demanded.

‘Mamma went to see what had happened to him and found him in his chair unable to move.’

Through the avenue of limes they went as fast as the pony would take them and as soon as they stopped by the door Maria leaped down and ran indoors.

Her mother, white faced and silent, embraced her. The doctors were with Walter Smythe; and it did not take them long to give their verdict. He had had a stroke which had paralysed him.