The Viscount Needs a Wife (8 page)

“This is not the same,” she protested.

He let silence argue for him.

“It's not the same,” she repeated. “But she shouldn't
want
to marry anyone else. She shouldn't be able to bear it.”

He tried a different approach. “It's time for you to put off black, Sarah. For your own sake. Marcus wouldn't have wanted this. The grandchildren won't remember you any other way.”

“They'll never know Marcus!”

“They'll know him from his picture and from the
stories we tell. Happy stories. He's gone, my dear, but so are many admirable young men who defended us in battle so that we could live freely here. If we don't live our lives to the full, do we not undermine their victory?”

“How have you become so eloquent?” she protested. “You'll be making grand speeches in Parliament next.”

Of course she'd detect borrowed words.

“I'm inspired by wanting my Sarah back. I'm only half myself without you, my dear.”

She cried again, but then blew her nose. “Have I been so very selfish?”

“You needed time, my love. We all did. But it swallowed you, and you took Kathryn down with you. She'll never forget Marcus or cease loving him, but she deserves to live a full life. Can you follow her lead?”

She smoothed her black skirt as if she'd never seen it before. “It will be hard.”

Dauntry had mentioned addiction in his letter, but Lord Cateril decided not to use that.

“I will help you,” he said, and rose, holding out a hand.

She took it and let him help her to her feet. Her look was questioning, but there was a bit of the old Sarah in it.

“I'm going to take you upstairs and help you choose a gown that's not black. No, I'm not planning to undress you, my love.” He risked a tease. “Or not yet. But I'll help you choose. Then when you're ready, I need your advice about estate matters. There are many difficult decisions these days.”

“You've become very clever all of a sudden, Edward.” He delighted to see her sharp wit again. “But I admit you're probably right. I have sunk too low for too long. The sage green, perhaps.”

“The very gown I had in mind.”

He wouldn't mention the letter yet—the letter she must
write—or the matter of sending Kitty's belongings off to her new life. He hoped she'd come to that on her own.

He escorted his wife to the stairs, but left her to mount them alone, black skirts trailing the steps as if to drag her down. She'd never worn skirts of such an impractical length in the past. She paused at the best spot to study Marcus's portrait, but then nodded as if a decision was made and continued on.

Good lad,
Lord Cateril said silently to his younger son, bright eyed and vital in his scarlet and gold.
You watch out for your wife, too. No dog with a bone about it. She's a grand lass. Let her have as much of a life as she can. I wouldn't have thought such a lawyerly type quite to her taste, but better than buried alive. Much better than that.

K
itty helped Ruth, trying to learn a bit more about rural household management. She also went with her around the village, alert for anything about Dauntry. She learned little of use. Everyone was interested in him, but it seemed he rarely visited Beecham Dab, and no one knew even as much as she did.

Some of the village women would smirk and say he was a fine, handsome man. Others judged him too fancy-dressed and haughty. A few were perceptive enough to say he was a London man who'd doubtless not be at the Abbey much, and declared that a shame.

She visited the Beecham Dab almshouses one day with Ruth and learned in conversation that some repairs were outstanding. A little more “idle” curiosity revealed that the problem was of long standing, but had become worse since the fifth viscount's death.

As they walked back to the parsonage, Ruth said, “Once you're Lady Dauntry, you'll be able to put that matter in order.”

“Willingly. I'll take an active part in the management.”

Kitty kept alert for other neglect but didn't find any, and she was constantly aware of needing to make a good impression as a sensible, decent sort of woman in case she did make the marriage.

“It's odd,” she said to Ruth one day as they returned to
the parsonage from the village shop. “If I were a real viscountess, I could be as eccentric as I liked, but as a prospective one I must strive for perfection.”

“You soon will be a real viscountess.”

“But one from low origins. People will be alert for any vulgarity.”

“You could never be vulgar.”

“I pray that's true, but I don't intend to be haughty with the people here.”

“True ladies and gentlemen aren't.”

“I hear the queen is.”

Ruth laughed. “I didn't mention royalty. Only think—you'll probably meet her and the Regent. You'll have velvet and ermine robes.”

“I believe my post is in the country, and I'll be glad of that.”

“If the king dies, there'll be a coronation. I think you'll be expected to attend that. In robes and coronet.”

“Then I wish him a long life!”

“He's nearly eighty, Kitty, but he might outlive the queen. She's clearly unwell, which isn't surprising, given all she's had to bear. Being royal isn't proof against suffering.”

“Stop it,” Kitty protested. “You'll cast us both into the dismals. You, at least, are perfectly situated.”

“Perhaps too perfectly,” Ruth said, looking at the pretty parsonage.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ruth said, and continued inside. But Kitty wondered.
How could anything be too perfect?

She'd thought Ruth perfectly suited to being the wife of a country clergyman, but in the past few days she'd noticed something amiss. She'd caught Ruth in pensive moments and interrupted one serious discussion between Ruth and her husband.

Please let there be no problems there.
If she was going to make this marriage, she needed Ruth to be her strong, reliable support.

*   *   *

By Saturday Kitty was desperate, and she decided to question Ruth more closely about Dauntry. She searched the house and finally found her friend in the scullery, surrounded by berried stems and a smell of vinegar. “What are you doing now?”

“Pickling barberries.”

“Why?”

“They're a tasty addition to many dishes.”

Kitty couldn't imagine the labor worth the result, but she said, “What can I do to help?”

“You could help pick the berries from the stems.”

Kitty put on an apron and set to work. “I wish I knew why Dauntry is rushing into marriage. He's had months to consider his situation and decide he needs a wife. Months to find one.”

Ruth paused in her work. “No, he hasn't. He learned he was the viscount only a few weeks ago. I must have said.”

“Didn't the previous viscount die in August?”

“But no one knew who the heir was, least of all Dauntry. He came here as soon as the inheritance was confirmed, but he describes it as learning a new trade.”

Kitty remembered his talking about being a plaything of the gods. “But all the same, why the rush? And why me? He could easily marry a grand lady.”

“He made it clear he wanted to marry quickly and without fuss.”

“And I was waiting to be plucked. Like a goose.” Kitty removed some berries too forcefully, breaking a stem.

Ruth shook her head. “Isn't it more a case of your finding a goose that lays golden eggs?”

“Geese can be very unpleasant. We had some at Cateril
Manor that would chase away intruders and didn't always distinguish between us and thieves.”

“Are you seeing Dauntry as an angry goose?”

Kitty chuckled. “Neck stretched out and hissing? Oh, what would you do in my situation, Ruth?”

Ruth had finished her basket of stems and she began to measure out vinegar into a pan. “I was a good governess in a kind family, but I was delighted to leave to marry.”

“To marry a man you love.”

“Yes.” Ruth turned to her. “Oh, Kitty, I never thought! You'll be giving up all chance to love again.”

“I'll be content with a tranquil marriage.” It wasn't quite true, but it was more true than any other reaction.

“Perhaps Dauntry was wise to go away. To give you this time to think.”

“I didn't want time to
think
. I wanted time to get to know him. He wanted to marry immediately, and when I refused, he ran away.”

“Oh, dear. You're going to kick against the shafts, aren't you?”

“I'm not a horse, but if anyone tries to put me in harness, I'll most certainly kick.”

“I don't know how you survived your marriage.”

“Are you in harness?”

“Andrew and I are in harness together.”

“A perfectly matched team.” Kitty watched Ruth's reaction to that and didn't see any doubt, thank heavens. Perhaps there was a problem in the parish. “I don't imagine that will ever be the case with me and Lord Dauntry. We have very different paces. Oh, I'm out of sorts!”

“Why don't you take Sillikin for a long walk? I'm nearly finished here, and fresh air will do you good.”

“I don't know what good means anymore,” Kitty said, but she washed her hands in the bowl of water. “When I think back, I can't remember a time when I've not been in
harness. My parents, school, and then I was swept into marriage to Marcus. Now here I am, approaching thirty years of age and still without free choice.”

“Employment is a choice,” Ruth pointed out. “You want comfortable choices.”

Kitty was in danger of making a snappish retort, so she went to dress for the outdoors, called Sillikin, and headed out. She walked away from the village along worn pathways, keeping a close eye on the dog. Perhaps Sillikin had learned her lesson, for she didn't go far in her excited explorations.

Kitty paused on a rise to look around the countryside. It was a gently rolling and orderly patchwork of farmland, but no material for bucolic poetry in its gray, wintry shades.

She'd never enjoyed winter in the countryside. Life was so much better in Town then, with gas-lit streets, shops, theaters, and amusements in all directions. The coal fires could cloak everything in a pall of smog, but that hadn't killed the pleasure.

“Oh, Hades. Spring will come.”

The dismal scene would burst from half mourning into vivid life. Daffodils, green leaves, frolicking lambs. She'd feel more in harmony with the area then. As for the present, she'd learn no more about Dauntry until he returned. Sunday should give her a glimpse, at least, of the Braydon family at church, and she might learn something from that. She looked forward to that, but on the day, the large box pew at the front stayed empty.

As she and Ruth walked back to the parsonage with the children and servants, Kitty asked, “Does the Braydon family often stay away on Sunday?”

“They never attend. Dauntry has, but no one else from the family.”

“Are they Catholic?” Kitty asked in surprise.

“Heavens, no, but they have the chapel and a chaplain to offer services. A doddery old fellow.”

“Isn't that unusual?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I'll attend service here and I'll try to make sure my husband does, too. The dowager may worship in her chapel, but Miss Isabella can be compelled.” She saw Ruth's expression. “No?”

“I know only what Dauntry has said, but ‘stubbornly willful' seems to fit, with the dowager encouraging her.”

“Why does the dowager still live there? Isn't there a dower house?”

“Used by the estate steward for at least thirty years.”

Kitty frowned at an inoffensive gravestone ahead. “Do you think the dowager drove off the previous viscount's wife on purpose?”

“Kitty! Don't let your imagination run away with you. Why would she do that?”

“Mothers and sons. Is Andrew's mother protective of him?”

“Not particularly, but she has three other sons.”

“Lady Cateril has one other son and two daughters, but that didn't help. I'd never thought before to be grateful that Marcus insisted on us living so far away. Life at Cateril Manor would have been unbearable.”

On Monday Kitty was startled to receive two letters from Cateril Manor. Both were franked, so Andrew had nothing to pay.

When Kitty hesitated, fearing what Lady Cateril had to say, Ruth said, “Open them!”

“Both at the same time? Why are Lord and Lady Cateril writing to me separately? Heavens. Could my news have killed her?”

“Then she'd hardly be writing to you, would she?”

“No, but . . .”

“Why the hesitation? You're not going to let her disapproval prevent you from marrying, are you?”

“No, but . . .” Kitty broke the seal on Lady Cateril's letter. It was short, so she grasped the contents immediately. “She's sending me my possessions without objection.” She stared up at Ruth. “She even says Marcus would have wanted me to live a full life. I can hardly believe it.”

“Why doubt?” Ruth snatched the letter and read it. “It seems plain enough. You have her blessing, Kitty. All is well!”

Kitty opened the other letter. “Perhaps it's to tell me she's run mad. No. It's to thank me.”

“For marrying?”

“Lord Cateril says my news has helped Lady Cateril return to life. She's put off her blacks and is taking her full part in life again.”

Ruth was beaming. “A blessing all around!”

“But at the end, he wishes me well and hopes Lord Dauntry is worthy of me. That's odd.”

“Good wishes?”

“That he say that. As if he has doubts. Do you think he knows Dauntry?”

Ruth took that letter. “He means worthy of Marcus's widow. Rejoice! You can marry without a cloud on the horizon. Andrew!” she called. “All's well! Lady Cateril makes no objection, and Lord Cateril thanks Kitty for bringing about a change in her.”

“No celebration?” Andrew asked.

“Bridal nerves, perhaps.”

“Everyone has them—grooms, too.”

If Dauntry was quivering, she was the Man in the Moon.

“The best thing is to be busy,” Ruth said. “We've still to retrim your bridal bonnet. Yes, you can go away again, Andrew. This is women's work.”

Kitty surrendered to Ruth's excitement, but the removal of every obstacle along with Lord Cateril's possible doubts had made her newly aware that she'd spent less than a half hour in Lord Dauntry's company.

They'd never even touched.

However, it was too late to back out now. She could only pray she wasn't making another mistake, because this one could last a lifetime. She was unlikely to be granted an early release a second time.