The Secretary (12 page)

“He
did
promise to look into it and make sure the report is presented soon, Leo,” Anders said carefully.

“Yes, but it’s clear it’s been shelved for now.” Anders could not argue with this. Brougham had made it clear that, given the political climate, the Poor Laws were at the very bottom of his list of priorities.

“There are other things happening, other events that require our attention now.”

“Such as the debts on the turnpikes?” Leo asked sarcastically.

Anders sighed as they turned away from the river. He had seen that little notation on the schedule for the next day’s session, too. “It will happen, Leo. But there are a great many things before Parliament this year, and they are all important. You must be patient. If you lose your head, it will do the bill no good.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Leo agreed, “but it’s still rather aggravating.”

“I think you have every right to be aggravated, just not to demonstrate it quite so openly,” Anders cautioned. Leo had come quite close to jumping up out of his seat and striking Colville. Anders had had to hold him down on the red leather bench, and had finally given up and simply dragged him from the chamber.

For a few moments they walked in silence. Leo clenched and unclenched his fists and muttered a few curses under his breath. Anders waited patiently, saying nothing. Then, taking a deep breath and becoming once again his cheerful self, Leo said, “My mother remarked that your attentions to Miss Martin seemed rather serious. Have you made a decision about her?”

Anders felt his heart beat a little faster at the sound of Miss Martin’s name. “I have,” he said.

“When will you propose?”

“Two weeks, perhaps. I want to make sure she will say yes. There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to ask twice,” he joked.

“As if you would know?”

“I suppose not. But then, neither would you.”

“True. Well, best of luck to you. Mother will be disappointed, though I think Eleanor will not.”

“She told me as much herself.”

“That’s my sister for you,” Leo laughed. “Ever tactful and correct. I’d just hate to be in the room when mother takes out her pen and strikes your name from her list.”

“You mean she really does have a list?” Anders was astonished, but Leo looked earnest.

“You thought I was joking, didn’t you?”

“I confess I did,” Anders admitted.

Leo laughed. “I suppose now you’re glad you’re not marrying into our family. But I can’t believe Eleanor flat out told you she didn’t want you, the brazen girl.”

“I’m glad she did. I wouldn’t have liked to have fallen out with you over Miss Martin. Lord knows I’ll have a hard enough time just getting the
ton
to accept her.”

“Nonsense,” Leo said. “She’s a refined, cultured young lady. She hasn’t put a toe out of line that I’ve seen.”

“But she has no people, Leo,” Anders said as they walked into Stowe House. “I’m not even entirely sure how to go about it, when she has no father or mother to speak of. I can’t just solicit my secretary’s permission to ask for her hand, can I?” As he said this last he glanced up at the landing. The doors to his study were firmly shut. Ford was either there and working or not there at all. Either way, he had probably not overheard that last comment.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how one courts a woman with no family,” Leo said. “I’ve been avoiding that particular entanglement as carefully as you have, so I have no wisdom to share with you. Not that I think you haven’t made an excellent choice.”

“Thank you for your sage advice, Leo,” Anders said.

“When will you be seeing her again?”

“I’m taking her driving on Sunday.”

“Perhaps I’ll have Eleanor invite her to go along with us to the Middlebury’s ball on Thursday night. Lady Middlebury isn’t at all particular about who attends as long as it’s the biggest squeeze of the season.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Anders said, grateful for the fact that his friend seemed to be actively encouraging a suit that would ruin his mother’s hopes.

“And you’ll be at Barney’s tonight?”

Anders groaned at the thought of spending a whole evening with their old school friend, who was embracing his bachelorhood with both arms. “I will, though the idea of losing hand after hand of cards to that shark has very little appeal.”

“He’s jolly good company, though, you must admit,” Leo said, and before Anders could argue he was gone. He glanced up at the study but decided instead to turn down the stairs to the cellar.

“Tell Mr. Ford I’ve gone for a swim, Phelps,” he called.

Clarissa was making notes on the latest documents she had received while she waited for Lord Stowe to return from that day’s session. She loosened her cravat just a little—she was still getting used to the high, pointed collar and tight knots required by fashion. Really, corsets seemed mild compared to the way some men appeared to be throttled by their own neckties. Below, the door slammed, and she got up to greet the earl as he came up the stairs. But as she put her hand on the door, she heard him talking to someone else.

“But she has no people, Leo,” the earl was saying.

Clarissa froze with her fingers around the doorknob. They were talking about her. Now she heard Lord Sidney saying Lord Stowe had made an excellent choice.

“Perhaps I’ll have Eleanor invite her to the Middlebury’s ball on Thursday night.” Clarissa’s heart leaped at the thought of a ball, but then she reminded herself of the implications.

“That would be much appreciated,” the earl replied. Clarissa sucked in an agitated breath. Now she would have to find another evening gown. How had she gotten herself into such a mess?

Headfirst, my girl
, said the voice in her head.
You dove in headfirst.

She heard the earl calling out that he was going for a swim. With a sigh of relief she turned and went back to her notes.

***

“You see, Clarissa,” her father said. They were sitting on the bank of the river in Oxford, looking out over the water, “everything in nature has a purpose, an order. Everything is made just as it ought to be—free. And so are we. We are all free. Just because you are a woman, you do not have to live as other women do.”

“I know, Papa.” She was wearing the pale pink gown she had had on at the theatre, even though she was sitting in the grass. “I’m dreaming,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” he said.

The sunlight danced over the water. “We used to swim here,” she said.

“And this is where you and I first read David Hume.”

“‘Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them’,” he quoted.

“What am I contemplating?”

“Only you can say that,” he said. “But I think you are feeling that you are letting me down. I taught you to be more than a pretty ornament on a man’s arm, and that is what you are afraid of becoming.”

She said nothing.

“But I also taught you not to be afraid.”

“You did.”

He stood up. “You must choose. More than anything, I taught you that you were free to choose.” Then he walked straight into the river and disappeared beneath the water, leaving Clarissa sitting in her silly gown on the grass.

***

Clarissa woke from her dream to a cold Sunday morning. She sat up against the bolster, trying to clear her head. She had not dreamed of her father at all in the year since his death. Why now?

There were too many other things to consider today to spend time contemplating her dream for long. Lord Stowe was coming to take her driving this afternoon. Her fingers shook as she arranged her hair before heading off to church. But as she neared, a familiar figure pulled away from the wall to meet her.

“Miss Martin!” Mr. Whibley called, grinning broadly as he strode toward her.

“Good morning,” she said breathlessly, remembering that she had agreed to let him walk her home again. “Have you passed a pleasant week?”

“Very,” he said, holding out his arm. She took it. As they walked into the church he asked, “How have you been?”

“Busy,” she admitted. “I...I ran into a few old friends in town who have kept me much occupied.” It was a flat-out lie, and she knew she should be sorry, but she couldn’t tell Mr. Whibley what she had really been doing all week. For one thing, he would think it absurd. For another, it might hurt his feelings, and he really was a sweet man.

They hardly spoke at all during church, but Mr. Whibley stood a little closer to her than he had the week before. At one moment his shoulder brushed her sleeve, and he whispered an apology. Rather than feel excited by his proximity, however, she was reminded of the way the earl had played with the fabric of her gown the other night at the theatre.

Afterwards, they walked slowly through Knightsbridge towards Trevor Street. He talked absently of his work and of the visit to his mother he planned soon. But when they reached her corner, she said, “Mr. Whibley, I think it only right to tell you that there is...that is, I have—”

“You have another suitor,” he said, his smile thinning. “I thought you might. Don’t worry, Miss Martin, my spirit is not crushed.”

“I am glad to hear that, Mr. Whibley. I have dreaded saying it to you the whole morning for fear of hurting your feelings.”

“Never fear, Miss Martin,” he said, and he took her hand in his. “I have enjoyed our Sunday walks, and your company. Perhaps you will permit me to look up your brother at Westminster and continue our acquaintance through him?”

She could not very well say no. She would be forced to explain her refusal. “Of course, Mr. Whibley. Thank you for understanding.”

He bowed over her hand and strode briskly away. Self-consciously, she glanced around, wondering if anyone had witnessed their exchange, but there were few people about. She turned down the alley and went into her flat, anxiously counting out the hours until Lord Stowe arrived.

Unbeknownst to Clarissa, Lord Stowe had arrived already. Unable to get anything done, he had decided to take a walk, and with his mind otherwise occupied, his steps had led him to Trevor Street. He had just been about to turn around and walk back towards Belgrave Square when he had spotted a familiar pink dress on the corner. It was Miss Martin, and she was standing rather close to a young man. He had an earnest look on his face as he spoke to her. When he took her hand to say goodbye, Anders thought he saw regret in the man’s features. Then he was gone, and Miss Martin was disappearing into her building.

How very odd, Anders thought. Miss Martin had told him herself that she had few friends. Who was this man? He had looked vaguely familiar, and Anders searched his memory, wondering where he had seen the fellow before. But try as he might, he could not dredge it up, and when he pulled up in the new curricle he had rather rashly purchased near the same spot where he had been standing hours later, the man’s face was still fixed in his mind.

Miss Martin seemed quite happy to see him, however, and her pleasing company quickly drove all thought of the strange man from his mind.

“Did you receive my letter?” he asked as they drove past the Serpentine.

“I did,” she said, coloring prettily. “I was...most flattered by your sentiments.”

“I hope they are welcome,” he ventured nervously. When he had told Leo he was not quite sure how to proceed, he had not been lying.

“My Lord, if I may ask, are you worried about courting a woman with no family?”

He laughed at that. “Why, yes, Miss Martin, I am. I’m glad you said it rather than I.”

“It’s a valid concern,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I really am not sure what the rules are in my situation. But Mr. Ford led me to believe that you had some...misgivings.”

“That’s an excellent word. But I would not wish you to doubt my enthusiasm,” he added, cursing his foolishness. He did not want her to think he was apprehensive about her social status.

“No, I think you’ve made your enthusiasm quite apparent, and it is very agreeable. But with no family, I suppose it falls to me to ask you your intentions.”

He pulled the curricle to a halt at the edge of the park. Still holding the reins with one hand, he turned to face her, his dark brows knitting together in what was almost a frown, but not quite. “My intention, Miss Martin, is to show you how much I care for you and, when we are both ready, to ask you to be my wife. Is that clear enough?”

She blinked a few times. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she said at last.

“Good,” he said, and he tapped the reins, feeling rather put out at having tipped his hand so easily.

“But I wonder if you have considered the consequences of marrying a woman with no family. I am not truly of the
ton
, you know.”

“It is one of your most redeeming qualities.”

“Do you truly dislike them so much?”

“Dislike them?” he repeated. “No. But I do find them rather...tedious. Lovely as you are, it is not your beauty I find so alluring. There are plenty of beautiful women in the world. Your mind, however, is a rare treasure.”

She was looking at her hands again. “No one has ever called me beautiful before,” she said quietly.

“Well, you’d better get used to it,” he said.

They were drawing near the most crowded part of the park. It was the fashionable hour, and the lanes were swarming with carriages. Much to Anders’s chagrin, the first carriage they met contained the Marquis of Bainbridge. The gentleman and lady with him nodded politely to Anders and looked down their noses at Miss Martin, but Bain greeted her warmly enough.

“So you must be the Miss Martin of whom we have all been hearing so much,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, My Lord,” Miss Martin said, blushing again. Then the traffic began to move once more. As they drove, Anders greeted everyone he knew--which was everyone they passed. He introduced Miss Martin and was pleased to see that almost everyone gave her a warm reception.

“I apologize,” he said when they were once again free of the crush. “I had forgotten how crowded the park could become at this hour.”