The Regency (73 page)

This time she needed only to nod, and he gave a small sigh of relief and took her in his arms. At last, she thought, at last.
She leaned against his strong chest, and closed her eyes, and
felt safe and loved and warm. It was the most exquisite
moment of her life, and she savoured it, old enough to know
that such moments must be enjoyed to the full while they last.

‘
Mathilde, my beautiful, my lovely Mathilde,' Edward
murmured against her ear.

‘Dear Edward,' she whispered.

Then he released her, and the light from the upper windows illuminated his worried expression.

‘
Dear Mathilde, I wanted to ask you to marry me before
you went away on your tour. Do you remember the day we went to look at the ram? I thought then that you might love
me. I wanted to declare myself.'

‘I wanted you to,' she said shyly. 'Why didn't you?’

The last of his smile faded. 'Because — for the same reason
that still exists. I am not in a position to marry. Oh God, I am
in the most devilish fix.’

Mathilde felt the blood leave her head. She clutched his
forearm faintly. 'You can't mean — that you have a wife
already?’

He looked startled. 'Good God, no! My dearest girl, what
are you thinking of? No, what I mean is that I am not in a
position to support a wife. I have no money of my own. I live
here, at Morland Place, free of charge, by the terms of my mother's will. When Fanny comes of age, I shall receive a
small sum — six thousand pounds — and I may continue to
live here while I remain unmarried. But six thousand pounds
is not enough to support myself and a wife, if I leave Morland
Place.'

‘
But why should you leave?' she asked. 'I don't want to go.
I love it here — I regard it as my home. And it
is
your home.'

‘
Only until Fanny comes of age. My dear, you don't think
that imp will hesitate to throw us all out of doors, as soon as
the trust is terminated, do you? James and Héloïse and their
children will be obliged to go, you may be sure, and you with
them. That's why they have always kept Plaisir, so that they
would have a home to go to. Well, Héloïse has money of her
own, and James will have his six thousand pounds like me.
They will manage. But as for me —'

‘
Fanny would never throw you out of doors,' Mathilde said
angrily. 'With all the work you do — why, you run the estate
almost single-handed! She wouldn't be so ungrateful! She
could never manage without you.'

‘
She may well want me to stay as her manager — though I
don't know that I would want to — but she would never
accept a wife of mine,' he said sadly. 'And when she marries,
her husband may have other ideas about how to run the
estate. My dear, I am the last person in the world to think of
money in connection with marriage, but you have no fortune,
and we could not live on three hundred a year.'

‘
We could! I'm sure we could! Lots of people live on less
than that,' Mathilde said, fighting back the tears.

He touched her hand. 'You don't know what you're saying.
You don't know what it would mean. And do you think I
would let you condemn yourself to poverty for my sake? No,
my dear, it's impossible.’

She was silent a moment, and then anger broke through,
the anger of frustration. 'Then, if you don't want to marry
me, why have you brought me out here? Why have you
declared yourself? Was it just to torment me?'

‘
Do you think that of me? Oh Mathilde, I do want to marry
you, more than anything in the world! If things were only
different — but it's foolish to talk like that. I'll tell you why I had to speak to you: though it was arrogant and foolish of me, lately I had begun to think that perhaps you felt the same way
about me as I felt about you. I wondered if perhaps that was
why you hadn't married, or formed a connection with any of
the young men I saw dangling after you. I couldn't bear to
think you were waiting, uselessly, for me, wasting your life,
losing your chance of happiness. No, let me speak! I love you, Mathilde, more than I ever thought I could love anyone. I'm
unspeakably glad and grateful that you have said you love me. And knowing that, I can let you go with a quiet heart.
You must marry some young, wealthy man, who can support
you and give you the establishment you deserve. I want you to
be happy.'

‘
Have you finished?' Mathilde said evenly. 'Well, then it is
my turn to speak. I have told you before, and I will tell you
again, that I don't want to be married, unless it's to you. You
can't get rid of me so easily! You have declared yourself, and you can't take back your words. I think we could live on three
hundred a year; I'm willing to try, anyway. But if you aren't
— well, something will happen, I know it will! We must be
together. That's all that matters.'

‘But what could happen?' he said despairingly.

‘
I don't know,' she said with the fierce carelessness of
youth. 'Maybe Fanny won't send us away. Maybe someone
will die and leave you some money. Maybe Madame will give me a dowry. Something will happen, if only you don't give up
hope.’

He took her hands again. 'Do you mean you would be
willing to wait, in the hope that we might be able to marry
some time in the future? I can't believe it.'

‘
Believe it,' she said. 'What have Ito lose? This is my home.
I shall be here anyway, until Fanny throws
me
out. We'll just
go on as we have done, working, being together, and wait to
see what happens.’

He drew her towards him and kissed her brow. 'Bless you,
dearest Mathilde. If that's what you want, then so be it. I
can't believe I'm so lucky. But remember, no promise binds
you. If at any time you receive an offer of marriage you feel is
to your advantage, you mustn't hesistate

‘
Oh hush!' she said. 'I told you, Cousin Edward, that I
don't want to marry anyone else.'

‘
We must keep this a secret for the time being,' he said. 'In
public we must be as we have been until now. You see the
necessity.'

‘Yes, I see the necessity. But in private —?'

‘
You will be my dear love,' he said happily. 'And now, we
had better go in, before we're missed.'

‘Yes,' she said dutifully, and led the way.

 
Captain Haworth did not come home in the autumn as he
had planned. He had applied for leave, but like Collingwood
before him, had been denied it on the grounds that he could
not be spared. He was commanding a squadron in the western
Mediterranean, and depending on the winds, letters could
take up to three months in either direction. His letter explain
ing that he would not be coming home arrived with Lucy at
the end of January, 1812.

‘
It is a great pity,' he wrote, 'but it cannot be helped. The
situation here is delicate, and though there are signs that
Bonaparte may soon be forced to lighten the embargo and
grant some licences, we cannot afford to loosen our grip now.
We begin to see a little hope for a conclusion, if not soon, then
at least in the foreseeable future. We have hints that Boney
may be spoiling for a fight with Russia, and if they are true,
then he may find he has bitten off more than he can chew.
It is hard for anyone who has not been there to imagine
how large Russia is, and Boney has never been very good at
judging distances!

‘
So for the moment, I believe it is best that Africa remains
with Mrs Touchstone. I think it is important for her both to get
a good education, and to be with other girls in her situation;
and Bath, you know, is conveniently placed to visit if I
should come home unexpectedly. I have made arrangements
with the paymaster for the school fees and Africa's allowance
to be continued.’

Lucy brought the letter with her when she came to Morland
Place in February to stay with Héloïse until the baby was
born. Nothing less would satisfy James, though Héloïse's
pregnancy had so far been without incident.

‘
But it is very good of you to come, dear Lucy,' Héloïse said
when she arrived.

‘It certainly is,' Lucy agreed. 'You've timed this very ill,
you know. The restrictions on the Regency end on February
the eighteenth, and everyone thinks the Prince will have a
change of government and bring in the Whigs. Well, almost
everyone — Brummell thinks, and I agree with him, that
caution will prevail again. But it's a very interesting time to be
in Town, at all events, and I shall miss it.’

Héloïse gave a small smile. 'I was not thinking of the
Regency when I began this baby,' she confessed.

‘
You weren't thinking at all,' Lucy said severely, 'but
there's no helping it now.’

There was a very painful reunion for Héloïse with Thomas,
whom Lucy had brought with her, as automatically as she
brought Docwra and Parslow. He had had his eighth birthday
in December, had grown into a sturdy handsome boy, very
like his father, but with enough of Lucy in him to make their
relationship obvious to anyone seeing them together. It was
plain that he didn't really remember Héloïse, and though it
was sad for her, she was glad for his sake that there was
nothing to tug his heart away from his mother, for whom he
had evidently developed a very strong affection.

Sophie, however, was overjoyed to see ter' Thomas again.
He had spent much more time in his early life with her than with Héloïse, and remembered her more clearly, and though
he was shy with her at first, he gradually warmed to her.
With Nicholas in tow, she took him first of all to Monsieur
Barnard, who dropped a few tears on Thomas's embarrassed
head, and promised to make them all peppermint creams, and
then on a tour of the house and yard, to introduce him to every servant and animal at Morland Place. Her frequent
cries of 'do you remember?', met at first with bewilderment,
after the first couple of days began to elicit a response.

It was hard for Africa to join in her cousin's euphoria, for
the news that she was to go back to school was extremely
unwelcome to her.

‘
But Aunt,' she protested, 'that letter was written months ago! Papa didn't know when he wrote that, that Sophie had left Mrs Touchstone's. He wouldn't mind me staying here if
he knew.'

‘
Yes, but he doesn't know,' Lucy said. 'It's his wish that you should go back to school, and there's nothing more to be said.’