Lady Vernon and Her Daughter: A Novel of Jane Austen's Lady Susan

chapter one

A woman with neither property nor fortune must ward off this affliction by cultivating the beauty, brilliance, and accomplishment that will blind a promising suitor to the want of a dowry. When she is securely married, she may suspend her own improvement and turn her energies toward the domestication of her husband and the acquisition of wealthy suitors for their daughters. Still, she must never sink to complacency, but always keep sharp, for it may be her unfortunate lot to survive her spouse and she will be thrown back upon her wits once more.

This principle became the subject of debate one evening between Sir William Martin and his lady. He observed that a young woman of marriageable age must always be accomplished and handsome, while a gentleman was under no such obligation.

“I cannot agree with you, Sir William,” protested his lady. “It is not nature but circumstance that determines how far one must exert. Personal advantages are no less necessary to a male than to a female, save in the case of a firstborn son. He may be as coarse as he likes, but unless he is quite sickly, his younger brothers will be obliged to cultivate a superior mind, a pleasing manner, and a handsome face.”

“Well, if you are right,” answered her husband, who was too good-humored to argue long with his wife, “then it is a fortunate thing for our John that he has them all.”

Lady Martin could not disagree. She favored John over her elder son, William, for the latter was a plain, dry, serious sort of person, while John Martin was a young man of extraordinary good looks and captivating manners.

Upon the death of Sir William, the elder son succeeded to the title and the handsome estate in Derbyshire; he married Miss Elinor Metcalfe, who dutifully presented him with an heir, christened James William, after her father and his. John Martin, meanwhile, was left to secure his future as well as he could, and for some time he deliberated whether he must look to the law, the Navy, the clergy, or marriage to a woman of fortune.

Alas, John Martin had neither talent nor inclination for the law, the sea, or the church. He was not averse to a good match, but he wanted to be happy as much as he wanted to be rich, and while there were many young ladies who were pretty and many who were rich, there were few who were both, and those did not have to settle for a second son.

An introduction to the lovely daughter of a merchant named Osbourne persuaded John Martin that he wanted to be happy more than he wanted to be rich. Miss Susannah Osbourne possessed a beautiful face, an elegant bearing, and a lively wit, and John Martin fell so thoroughly in love as to conclude that they might do very well on his modest fortune and her five thousand pounds. The lady’s affectionate father took a more practical view of the matter and introduced John Martin to an enterprising young man who was connected with a prominent banking house. Lewis deCourcy was a second son himself; his elder brother, Sir Reginald deCourcy, had inherited a large fortune and considerable property, while the younger had to make do with an excellent understanding, diligence, and an acumen for business. Lewis deCourcy was favorably impressed with Martin’s cleverness and handsome manners and had no trouble in securing him a place where he had to do little more than be agreeable to gentlemen of fortune and persuade them to relinquish their money.

Into this happy union came one child, a daughter. Susan Martin was a beautiful girl who became a beautiful young woman without suffering those years of awkward transition. An active mind, a fondness for reading, and acute powers of observation gave her a precocious understanding of the world and supported a respectable measure of accomplishment. She learned to read German, speak French, and sing in Italian. She played the fortepiano in a style that was more emphatic than lyrical, but she was shrewd enough to play only those pieces that suited her spirited fingers. She possessed a keen eye for contour and expression, though her sketches were confined to caricatures of anyone she did not like. To these were added the quickest tongue in repartee, the surest seat on a saddle, the lightest foot on a ballroom floor, and most important of all, an inimitable charm of presence that livened a room when she entered it and left its mark in the dullness that followed upon her retreat.

Susan Martin’s beauty was particularly gratifying to her father, for his natural liberality and want of economy had them always living in a style just above what they could afford and leaving nothing over for her future. “She will have her pick of rich men,” he consoled himself. “For I do not think there is a prettier girl in all of England!”

Well before Miss Martin might express her inclination for anyone, however, her parents settled upon their nephew, James, for their future son-in-law. Although their daughter’s affection for her cousin was expressed in nothing more than the teasing fondness of a sister for a brother, the Martins were not discouraged, for their designs were promoted by Lady Martin, who believed that her impetuous son would feel the want of cleverness in a wife more than he would feel a want of fortune.

Sir William was of an opposite opinion and resolved to do what he could to get rid of his niece before his son lost all sense of obligation to unite his fortune to one of equal measure and tendered his proposal to his fair cousin. As soon as Miss Martin was out, her uncle gave a grand private ball in order to bring his niece together with several single gentlemen who ought to be married and wanted only a few more dances and a few more charming smiles to fix them.

James Martin secured his cousin for the first two dances, which allowed the pair to turn their wit upon the party. “Is this not superior company, Susan?” asked he. “I did not know that my excellent father had so many vain and empty-headed acquaintance! There are three fools to every sensible fellow. Among so many peacocks I will certainly appear to advantage.”

“Or perhaps you can only take pleasure in the company of equals,” she replied archly.

“I take pleasure in whatever is before me, that is my particular talent.”

“To think of nothing beyond the present?”

“Indeed, yes! The past cannot be altered, and the future cannot be known—to dwell upon either will turn one into a fright or a bore.”

“We cannot all enjoy such agreeable indifference, James.”

“You reproach me wrongly,” protested her cousin. “You may think me a fool or a reprobate, but you must never think me indifferent.”

Sir William had been observing this repartee with some apprehension, and at the first opportunity he approached the young cousins with the outward motive of complimenting their dancing. “But you must allow the other gentlemen their share of pleasure or they will feel themselves slighted,” Sir William said to his son. “When your set is done, bring Susan to me, for some acquaintances have just arrived whom I particularly wish her to know.”

These candidates were the brothers Vernon. Frederick Vernon, the elder, was a good-natured gentleman of thirty. He had, some years earlier, rescued an impulsive young duke who had jumped into a pond on a challenge only moments before recollecting that he did not swim. A knighthood had been the result, and the conversion from Mr. Frederick Vernon to Sir Frederick Vernon had been effected without injuring the young man’s kindhearted civility. He had a great fondness for society but had lately been kept from the enjoyment of it out of filial obligation. His father had suffered a prolonged illness, and Sir Frederick sacrificed his own pleasures to remain at the family property in Sussex, attending his father with great devotion until his demise.

It was the younger Vernon, however, who immediately petitioned Miss Martin for the next two dances, and she was obliged to consent. Charles Vernon was six years his brother’s junior, and very different in appearance and disposition. He was handsomer of figure and face, more ingratiating in his manner, and livelier in his conversation. An unsophisticated observer would find him the more pleasing of the two, but the more cautious eye would detect the sort of high spirits that were the result of habitual indulgence in all of the license that a young man of good family can lay claim to. When Miss Martin expressed her condolences upon his recent loss, his remarks displayed a want of feeling and propriety that not even his handsome face and ingratiating conduct could disguise. While his father lived, Charles Vernon did not scruple to forfeit principle to pleasure, and when his father lay ill, he continued to amuse himself in London and Bath, arguing himself into the conviction that his father’s health would not hang upon his going to Sussex and making a show of concern. If the old gentleman lived, Charles would have sacrificed his diversion for nothing, and if he died, Charles would be scarcely a penny better off. Mr. Vernon had always held the opinion there was no wisdom in assigning large portions to younger children; it was the heir who must keep up the family property and he must have the money to do it.

Having neither property nor profession, and only the five thousand pounds through his mother’s marriage settlement and another five that was left by his father’s will, Charles had resolved upon marrying a rich woman—yet when he laid eyes upon Susan Martin, even this principle began to give way. She was, beyond anything, the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, and to her personal advantages was added the material one of being a near relation to Sir William and Lady Martin. The affection of Lady Martin for her niece was particularly promising as it was rumored that she had something in her own right that might be disposed of at her discretion, and Vernon wanted only the assurance that the “something” was in the neighborhood of ten or twelve thousand pounds before he applied for Miss Martin’s hand.

Charles Vernon’s pretension was not the result of any display of reciprocal feeling on the part of Miss Martin, for she was far too clever to be drawn in by a charming facade, and she perceived that although Sir Frederick was not as handsome or animated as his younger brother, in manners and understanding he was far superior.

Sir Frederick’s disposition was not at all like his brother’s. While Charles Vernon had been all artificial politeness and cold selfishness, every expression of Sir Frederick’s revealed his affability, understanding, and taste, and she concluded their dance with the wish to know him better.

Sir William observed these symptoms of compatibility and devised many subsequent occasions for bringing them together. Charles Vernon could not be excluded, and he was invariably charming, but he could not declare himself before he was assured that Susan Martin would have something more than a mere five thousand pounds, and he held back long enough for Sir Frederick to overcome his natural diffidence and make Susan Martin an offer of marriage.

The lady’s parents offered no objection; Sir Frederick was an excellent man and very much in love with their daughter, and Susan’s happiness was motive enough for them to moderate their ambitions for rank and connections. As for Sir William, he was so relieved that he had divided his niece from his son that he succumbed to a plan of Lady Martin’s to add to Miss Martin’s settlement. “Our brother has been an excellent father in everything but prudence,” said she. “He can settle nothing on Susan but five thousand pounds. We have only our son, who is provided for, and I have always regarded Susan as a daughter. May we not do something for her?”

“Indeed, yes,” declared Sir William. “I will settle another five thousand upon her and buy her wedding clothes as well.”

“It is no less than I would have expected of you—but I ask for something more. Everybody exerts on a woman’s behalf when she is to be married, but it is when she is widowed that she most wants some consideration, for a woman who is predeceased by her husband is often left with no place to go. We have not gone to London above one winter in four—why may we not settle the house in town upon her? The diversions of town, though not to our liking, will be very agreeable to them—it will allow Susan to spend part of the year near her family, and she will be assured of having someplace to go if she should find herself a widow.”

“It is a very strange thing to put her in weeds upon the eve of her wedding,” remarked Sir William, and yet he saw the prudence of her suggestion and consented to settle their fine house on Portland Place upon his niece.

Everyone was delighted except for Charles Vernon, who began to be angry that—as Susan Martin was to have ten thousand pounds rather than five and a fine house in town—he had not pressed his suit. The necessity of being on amicable terms with his brother, however, obliged him to make a show of goodwill, yet he did not scruple to mention to all of his acquaintance that Miss Martin’s affections had been overruled by ambition, that she had set her cap for the brother who could make her mistress of an estate with an income of four thousand a year rather than the one who, at present, had no prospects at all.

And so, before her eighteenth year, Miss Susan Martin became Lady Vernon.

chapter two

Lady Vernon’s first opinion of the Vernon family property was highly favorable as it was formed as they passed through the village of Churchill, which was yet five miles from the estate. Nothing of the manor was visible but for an imposing pair of stone turrets, and the high ground gave a picturesque aspect to the farms and tenant cottages and to the parsonage and churchyard beyond. As they approached the steward’s lodge, however, Lady Vernon observed that the smooth roads became rutted, and their carriage was rattled by furrows and potholes that would invite mud when the weather was wet and dust when it was dry (for the late Mr. Vernon had always been of the opinion that the tenants and cottagers must be able to get round to one another, while it was not at all necessary that they wait upon him).

The manor house lay at the end of a long avenue bordered by lichen-covered oaks that formed a dense canopy that rendered the passage oppressive and dim on all but the brightest of summer days. The house itself had begun as a handsome edifice of old gray stone, rising turrets, and looming gargoyles, but it had been handed down to master after master who made only those improvements necessary to ensure his immediate comfort. While the parsonage and farms and tenant cottages were always kept in good order, the manor house fell into such a state of disrepair that it could only be made habitable by appending an entirely new dwelling onto the old one.

Sir Frederick apologized to his bride for the property’s neglected state. “There is not a better library in four counties,” he declared, “but I am afraid that my honored father’s illness did not allow him to exert as far as he ought. But I assure you, my dear Susan, you shall have the liberty and funds to do as you like.”

Improvements were talked of—the kitchen garden and greenhouses were to be restored, the bedchambers would need considerable refurbishment, the arrangement of the rooms modified so as to take full advantage of the view offered by the hedgerows, the park, and Churchill Pond. Plans were resolved upon quickly, yet Sir Frederick was compelled to acknowledge that the aged steward, retained for so many years out of the late master’s benevolence and affection rather than the man’s capability, was quite unequal to the undertaking. Sir Frederick prevailed upon the steward to accept a comfortable cottage and a handsome sum of money with such great diplomacy that the old man believed he had been elevated in his station and yielded his post to a successor.

Mr. Deane had been given a very good character by John Martin’s friend Mr. Lewis deCourcy, and to his own accomplishments was added the advantage of a young daughter who was suited in every way to the post of Lady Vernon’s maid. Sir Frederick reviewed the number of improvements with Mr. Deane, and the two agreed that the best plan would be for the newlyweds to quit the house in order to give the carpenters and glaziers and upholsterers a free rein. They were at Churchill Manor, therefore, only long enough to be introduced to the neighbors and tenants, to give a half-dozen dinners, and for Sir Frederick to have some shooting before they consigned the property to Mr. Deane and repaired to London for the season.

Upon the death of Sir William Martin, at the end of the winter season, Sir Frederick and Lady Vernon, accompanied by her parents, traveled to Ealing Park, the Martin estate in Derbyshire. The family circle was so compatible, and of such comfort to Lady Martin and Sir James, that they were all urged to prolong their visit as long as they could. Sir Frederick readily consented; he was very fond of Lady Martin and her son, and his kindness, his steadiness, and his good humor were so pleasing to them that if Lady Martin ever did sigh, “Ah, if only she had married my James!” it was quickly followed by “But I daresay she could not have done much better.”

The Vernons did not return to Churchill Manor until December and found that owing to some delays in the procurement of materials and laborers (for many had been hired from the local population and could only be enlisted when they were not wanted on their own properties and farms), their improvements were but half-finished. They remained, therefore, only to give a few informal balls and dinners for the neighbors and to pass out shillings to the carol singers and pres ents of money and mince pies to the servants. Once the slice of twelfth cake was eaten, they again removed to London. An appeal from Lady Martin (who was, at her son’s insistence, to remain at Ealing Park) that she not be abandoned to James and his merry set of friends for the entire summer persuaded them to put off Churchill Manor once again. A visit to Mr. Lewis deCourcy at Bath was followed by a long stay in Derbyshire, where Sir James’s succession of balls, water parties, and picnics kept them well into the beginning of autumn.

It was in the middle of this visit that Sir Frederick received a letter from Mr. Deane, giving a favorable report of his progress and yet acknowledging that it would be many months more before the renovations were complete. Sir Frederick was content to give his steward all the time that was necessary; his lady, however, confided to him a very particular reason that they must be settled well before the date that Mr. Deane had proposed.

Sir Frederick’s delight in the prospect of an addition to their family was exceedingly great, and when their visit at Ealing Park was concluded, they repaired immediately to London, where they would remain until Lady Vernon was confined.

In the early part of spring, they welcomed into their family a daughter, christened Frederica Susannah, and the matter of a fixed residence now acquired some urgency.

“A child must be given the advantage of open space and fresh air,” Sir Frederick decided. “Churchill Manor will not be ready for another six months at least and—I am sure you will forgive me—I do not think that Ealing Park would suit, at least not for the coming summer.”

“Why may we not find another purchase?” suggested Lady Vernon. “We have fortune enough, and it will be something that we may settle upon Frederica, as she will have no claim upon Churchill Manor.”

“An excellent scheme!” declared Sir Frederick. “I will leave the choice entirely to you. Only let it have some fishing and some grouse or pheasant or woodcock to shoot, and whatever you like for yourself, and I will be content.”

Lady Vernon turned up an excellent property in Staffordshire. The manor house had been built within the last century, and both the grounds and the interior were laid out in a style that combined elegance with comfort and sense, while the extensive woods offered some of the finest sport in the country. The neighbors were said to be as agreeable a collection of folk as one would meet anywhere, with the nearest of them being the Clarkes, an affable couple who, despite dissimilar natures, were admired through all of Staffordshire as models of conjugal felicity. He was a quiet gentleman who enjoyed a morning stroll with his dogs and the remainder of the day among his books, and his wife was a lively woman who must spend part of every day visiting the neighbors or walking into town. There were also the Misses Clarke, two little girls a few years older than Frederica, who, Lady Vernon and Sir Frederick hoped, might be companions for their daughter.

Sir Frederick was so pleased with his lady’s choice that he left all of the bargaining to her as well. Lady Vernon did justice to his confidence and got a price that was three thousand less than he would have paid, and Sir Frederick rewarded her cleverness by settling the difference upon her.

The dwelling was christened Vernon Castle, and they were so delighted with it that it became their country home, and Churchill Manor was only opened for a fortnight every Christmas.

chapter three

The Vernons were as enthusiastically courted as any couple will be when they are handsome, clever, and have plenty of money. Every picnic and shooting party at Vernon Castle added to Sir Frederick’s affability, and every reception at Portland Place added to his wife’s brilliance. Even little Frederica, who was not seen enough to give any material impression of her character or appearance, was said to be the prettiest and most well-behaved child who ever lived.

Alas, after ten years of universal goodwill, there came a decline in their fortunes, for which Sir Frederick’s brother bore no small responsibility.

Charles Vernon’s pride had sustained a blow when Susan Martin chose Frederick over himself, but he knew that the surest way to preserve Sir Frederick’s trust and liberality was to keep up a facade of family affection. When he was not imposing upon his brother’s hospitality, he was in the company of a very fast set who had a love of gaming and a reliance upon speculation rather than employment. Charles introduced some of these acquaintances to Sir Frederick, who found them so personable and their manners so engaging that he set down their impulsiveness and indiscretion to affability and allowed them to lure him into an ill-fated speculation. The result of this was a considerable financial loss. To Sir Frederick’s credit, he blamed no one but himself for the error of judgment, nor did he allow self-reproach to embitter his warm and openhearted nature. Charles Vernon was equally complacent; he had no conscience to provoke embarrassment or remorse. If he did experience any anxiety, it was only when he wondered whether his brother’s situation would affect his own invitations to shoot at Staffordshire and to dine at Portland Place.

Lady Vernon would surely have advised against the scheme, but these associates had imposed upon Sir Frederick at a time when she had been obliged to spend several weeks in town, to attend to her ailing father. His untimely death, followed in a fortnight by her mother’s demise, deprived Sir Frederick of his most prudent counsel, and Lady Vernon learned nothing of the predicament until it was irrevocable and the money was lost.

Sir Frederick’s creditors were kept at bay until the disposition of his father-in-law’s fortune was known, as his daughter’s bequest might be equal to what they were owed and spare them the embarrassment of having to go to the duns. The will was read, and as with almost every other will, it brought more disappointment than consolation. John Martin had been so confident in his daughter’s security that he never ceased to indulge his own extravagance, and what modest fortune he had managed to set aside (as his wife had not long survived him) was to be divided among his faithful servants, with the remainder settled upon Frederica. The latter portion allowed her parents a life interest, but this amount was too little to materially relieve their present distress, and Sir Frederick decided that they must settle their debts by finding a tenant for their house in town or a purchaser for Vernon Castle.

“Churchill Manor has long been ready for our tenancy,” declared Sir Frederick, “and it would not do to keep two country houses and have nothing in town, as Frederica will be out in a few years, and it would be greatly to her advantage if we retained Portland Place.”

“I confess, my love, I am more concerned that Freddie be left with no place at all,” his lady replied. “Vernon Castle was to be settled upon her.”

“You are quite right, my dear, but a good match will make Freddie her own mistress, and if we sell Vernon Castle and are frugal for the next few years, I may mend my affairs and add considerably to her portion. There is something else in its favor, as I have the advantage of an immediate offer. Charles has written that if we find ourselves compelled to give up Vernon Castle, he will take it off our hands. You know that Charles has always wanted a property of his own and he is particularly anxious to settle on something quickly.”

Lady Vernon could not conceal her surprise. Where had Charles Vernon, always in want of ready money, got the funds to purchase any property at all? Had he profited from his brother’s loss and having deprived Sir Frederick of money now meant to take his property as well?

“And why is he so eager to settle now, pray?”

“He is engaged to be married.”

“Charles? Engaged?”

“Yes, it all happened only in the last fortnight, it seems. Even our friend Mr. Lewis deCourcy has written to me of his surprise at how speedily it all took place. But Charles is nearly five and thirty, you know, and ought to have settled before now.”

“But how is Mr. deCourcy involved in the matter?”

“It is his niece, the daughter of Mr. deCourcy’s elder brother, Sir Reginald, whom Charles means to marry. Their sister is Lady Hamilton, so the connection is an excellent one for my brother. I have been told that Mr. deCourcy means to extend to Charles the same patronage he did to your father.”

“To place him in a banking house?” Lady Vernon inquired with some surprise. She did not add that she would not have put Charles Vernon where he might have a free hand over other people’s money. “I wonder, then, that Charles would purchase an estate so far from town. And what sort of offer has he made you for Vernon Castle?”

Sir Frederick named a price that seemed so shockingly low to Lady Vernon that it took all of her self-command to keep from expressing her indignation. “And what do you mean to do?” she asked Sir Frederick.

“My dear Susan!” he cried. “It was through your efforts that we found Vernon Castle and I would not let it go to anybody without your consent. Our affection for the place, and our intimacy with our good neighbors, the Clarkes, would make it very difficult to surrender entirely. I thought that it might be of some comfort for you to know that Vernon Castle has not gone to strangers.”

Lady Vernon wisely refrained from remarking that she would not be comforted to see a property that was to be settled on their daughter pass down to Charles Vernon and his children. After a moment’s consideration, Lady Vernon observed, “My dear Frederick, it is not always wise to enter into business with family. If matters go wrong, there is so much ill feeling, and you would not want to risk that, particularly when the occasion of Charles’s marriage may bring us all together more. Surely Miss deCourcy will bring something of a fortune into the marriage, which ought to allow them to purchase. Let us look elsewhere. My Aunt Martin has a very wide acquaintance, and I am certain that she can help us find a purchaser, and if she cannot, we may reconsider your brother’s offer.”

“Your advice is excellent!” agreed the amiable Sir Frederick. “I am quite of your opinion. When you next write to your aunt, lay our situation before her, and I will wait upon her reply before I give Charles my answer.”

Lady Vernon to Lady Martin

My dear Aunt Martin,

I know that some word of our circumstances will have preceded this letter, for it seems that anything in the way of misfortune can never be kept to one’s self. To be sure, it would have been more interesting if I had run off with the groom, or some natural son of Frederick’s had turned up at our door, but alas, it is only money that distresses us, or the lack of it at least.

We must, it seems, give up Vernon Castle if we are to remain above water, and will be compelled to spend our country months at Churchill Manor. I can only hope that you and James will overlook the informality of the neighborhood and come to visit us there. You need not worry about its being too lively, or of falling into a crowd that demands that you always appear to advantage—those people will certainly drop us, and the only excitement that is likely to occur will be for someone to be mistook for a stag or a grouse and to be shot by another in his hunting party.

In the meantime, if you or my cousin happen to know of a purchaser for Vernon Castle, one who would give us a price that would be fair enough to alleviate our present distress, I hope that you will be the means of an introduction. We have had one offer made to us, one that is so small as to be insulting, and I cannot allow Frederick to be taken advantage of, not even out of fraternal affection. But of that, I will say no more.

I remain,

Your affectionate niece,

Etc. etc.

Lady Martin gave this letter to her son, who immediately responded with an offer to forward whatever money was necessary to ease Sir Frederick’s distress. A succession of letters followed in which the matter was argued back and forth with all of the lively antagonism that had marked the youthful quarrels of the cousins, for Lady Vernon had a strong aversion to accepting charity while Sir James was determined to bestow it. The genteel arrangements between her father and his creditors, and the more vulgar maneuvers by which Charles Vernon had remained solvent, had given Lady Vernon a thorough disgust of indebtedness.

Convinced that his cousin would not yield, Sir James wrote to Sir Frederick.

If you are determined upon the sale of Vernon Castle, allow me to be your surrogate. I promise that I will find you a purchaser who will not offer a penny less than what is fair. Devote your energies to my dear cousin, whose recent loss must make your obligation to her uppermost in your consideration. Give me the power to act for you in all the rest.

To this Sir Frederick consented and Sir James acted with discretion and speed. Before a month had passed, Sir Frederick was informed that a gentleman named Edwards, with a wife and two sons, had taken a fancy to Vernon Castle. Sir Frederick gave his wife’s cousin power to act in his stead and the business was concluded without the necessity of Sir Frederick even going to Staffordshire.

Charles Vernon was very angry when he heard that he had been cheated out of Vernon Castle, and he confided to Miss deCourcy that it had all been Lady Vernon’s doing, implying that she had come to regret her choice and as she could not bear to see Charles happily married to another, she meant to thwart him in everything. This left Miss deCourcy with no fond feelings toward her future sister-in-law, and with no desire to ever know her.

chapter four

Frederica Vernon had not reached her eleventh year when her family was obliged to give up Vernon Castle. Still, she possessed the strength of understanding and superior abilities that supported her in the loss of all that was familiar and reconciled her to the move from Staffordshire to Sussex.

She was not disheartened by the prospect of a quieter style of living, for she had never been easy in any company outside her family circle. She had not yet learned to feign an interest in conversation or mask her desire to retreat to a book. Under the tuition of her mother and an excellent governess, she became diligent and accomplished, but nothing was acquired for praise or show. She learned to play upon the harp and the pianoforte with considerable proficiency, though never with the élan of one who means to perform before company. She learned to paint and sketch but confined her subjects to flowers and wildlife, for she would not impose upon a human subject to sit for her. When the weather was poor, she was happy to pass the day in Churchill’s superior library, and when it was fair, she was equally pleased to explore the grounds for some curious specimen of moss or leaf, or to attempt to improve the flower beds and greenhouses.

Her parents and governess approved this activity, which was particularly suited to Frederica’s patience and curiosity, and given complete liberty to do as she liked, she brought the forcing garden back to use, laid out a convenient kitchen garden, cultivated a variety of flowers, and coaxed the pear trees into bloom and yield.

That winter, the Vernons went up to town with every expectation that their society would not be as eagerly sought as when they did not have to practice anything like economy. Sir James Martin, however, had resolved that his cousins should not be slighted by anybody, and they were not two nights in London before he gave a grand party in their honor. He had a spirited set of companions to supply the gaiety, ladies and gentlemen picked up before he had come into his title and who could not be got rid of afterward; the elegance was furnished by the distinguished families who had a sister or daughter of marriageable age, for Sir James was considered to be one of the most eligible young men in England.

At this gathering, Lady Vernon was introduced to a Mrs. Johnson. Mr. Johnson had made his fortune in trade, which had put him at variance with his lady. She believed that her husband’s wealth entitled them to know everyone of distinction, while Mr. Johnson was of the opinion that it relieved him of the necessity of knowing anyone at all. He contrived to be at his club when his lady received visitors, and sent her to balls and parties when he wanted to spend a quiet evening among his books. Her accounts of gaiety and noise, meant to tempt him out of his misanthropy, had the reverse effect and always left him very glad that he had stayed at home.

“What an agreeable party!” Mrs. Johnson began. “Sir James brings together such lively company. I am sure that Mr. Johnson, if only he would come out, would not find it at all tedious.”

“Does Mr. Johnson not like dancing?”

“He would like it well enough if it could be accomplished alone and in silence and with a book in one hand! And if I tease him for being so dull, he will threaten to give up London altogether and move to the country! Perhaps he would come out if Robert Manwaring would stay away,” she declared with a nod in that gentleman’s direction. “But that will never happen, for Manwaring is as determined to seek pleasure as my bon mari is to avoid it.”

Robert Manwaring was a comely and engaging fellow whose attraction toward lively company had drawn him into Sir James’s circle. He was ruled by impulse and too readily led by sentiment rather than sense, and the most grievous effect of this was his marriage to a very dull wife. It was rumored that he would never have proposed if there had not been some opposition on the part of the lady’s guardian, which had inflamed Manwaring’s romantic nature. He had pled his case to the lady with energy, won his point, and now lived to regret it. He was not the first man to err in his choice of a partner, and he would not be the last, and in the meantime he sought relief in society where he played at cards with men more imprudent than he and flirted with women who were prettier and more pleasing than his wife.

“How do you like Manwaring?” Mrs. Johnson persisted. “His manners are very handsome, are they not? You must be aware, for he will flirt with you if you are not on your guard, but he means nothing by it.”

“If he means nothing by it, then I need not be on my guard,” Lady Vernon replied with a smile. “He was giving me an account of his estate in Somerset.”

“Oh, it is a pretty little bit of property, but not as great as my bon mari wished.”

“Does Mr. Johnson have an interest in Mr. Manwaring’s property?”

“Oh, yes! My bon mari was Eliza Manwaring’s guardian and a very great friend of her father. Mr. Johnson was entrusted with the administration of Eliza’s fortune, and when she married Manwaring against his wishes, he withheld all but an allowance—fifteen hundred per annum. He was very angry that she married Manwaring, when she might have done so much better, but if Manwaring’s sister catches Sir James, perhaps there may be some ground for rapprochement. Of course, Maria Manwaring is only seventeen, but she has no older sisters to hold her back. I met my bon mari when I was seventeen and I caught him before he had the time to look elsewhere! What is Miss Vernon’s age?”

“Frederica is not yet in her teens.”

“Well, it is not too early to start looking,” Mrs. Johnson advised. “The best matches will often be set up well before a young lady is out, particularly since young men nowadays are so fickle and teasing. They will put young ladies of good family through the trial and expense of season upon season and then run to the altar with the governess!”

Sir James approached the two with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Ladies, I come to separate you. I am obliged to begin the dancing and must have a partner.”

“There is Maria Manwaring, sitting with her sister-in-law, and I am sure that you and she will open the dance very prettily,” Lady Vernon replied archly.

“But she is such a figure of quiet and tranquillity, it would be quite a shame to animate her. You two, however, appear to be engaged in the sort of tête-à-tête that always bodes ill for my sex. No, I must put an end to it. Come, Susan, you are the guest of honor, after all.”

Lady Vernon glanced across the room toward her husband, who wore the contented smile of a man who enjoys seeing his wife distinguished, and accepted her cousin’s hand. The pair took their place amid many expressions of surprise at his choice.

“And how do you like Alicia Johnson?” inquired Sir James. “Are you not grateful to me for the introduction? She is just the sort of incorrigible busybody that makes for a diverting acquaintance and an indispensable correspondent. You will be very glad to know her. Only see how quickly she hurries over to Eliza Manwaring in order to gossip about us!”

“Gossip cannot abide a delay,” agreed Lady Vernon. “It will risk being disproven and lose all of the delights of prejudice and error.”

“And what can be the nature of their delightful conjecture?”

“Mrs. Johnson will declare that you pronounced Maria Manwaring quiet and tranquil and Mrs. Manwaring will wonder whether you meant that you find her husband’s sister to be refined and gentle or tedious and dull—and from there they will wonder how soon Freddie can be out, and whether you have not married because you delay on her account.”

“I honor your imagination!” Sir James laughed heartily. “If I could not suit you, Susan, I cannot hope to please Freddie!”

“You suited me quite well when you were not in the way,” replied she. “But you invariably bothered me for conversation when I was in the middle of a book, and wanted to read your newspaper when I was of a mind to converse.”

“That is the advantage of the dance, you see.” He smiled. “You must lay down the book and I put aside the newspaper. And, as we are out of everyone’s hearing, we may talk nonsense and give the appearance of engaging in conversation that is very artful and deep.”

“I may not be as satisfied as you are, cousin, to suggest only a pretense of understanding.”

“That is because you are not a man, Susan. A man is all the happier for having the world make him out to be more interesting than he knows himself to be, and his character will suffer rumor and offense more easily than a woman’s.”

“Beware, James—you begin to sound artful and deep.”

“I mean only to give you a word of caution.”

“Against the rumors of Alicia Johnson and Eliza Manwaring?”

“No—but against the offense taken by a brother, I would have you be on your guard.”

“Is Charles still angry that we would not let him have Vernon Castle for next to nothing?”

“Charles Vernon has not forgotten that you preferred Sir Frederick to him,” replied Sir James.

“He evidently has, as he is to marry Miss deCourcy.”

“Well, he could not wait forever to catch you as a widow.”

“James! You will retract that, else I will wish with all my heart to see Maria Manwaring catch you as a husband.”

“I do retract it,” he said with a laugh. “Perhaps the inconceivable will come to pass and marriage will make Vernon amiable and prudent.”

“And does Miss deCourcy have the power to effect such a change? Is she of an amiable and prudent disposition?”

“Miss Catherine deCourcy has got to three and twenty without finding a suitor she liked, or that Lady deCourcy liked, which is much the same thing, and so she decided to take the one who was most adept at flattering her vanity. Vernon can be very pleasing when he exerts himself, and Catherine deCourcy likes to be pleased.”

“But is it a love match?”

Sir James laughed. “Love does not rank high when choosing a wife. Marriage is always a business transaction. One invests in a partner with the expectation that the investment will produce a return.”

“I do not think that Frederick would agree with you,” his cousin replied when the steps of the dance brought them together once more. “He might have contracted far more advantageously.”

“Frederick has made the best bargain of any man that I know. If you had come with twenty thousand pounds he would not have loved you one whit less,” Sir James declared with mock earnestness. “At any rate, I understand that Miss deCourcy’s twenty thousand will settle some very pressing debts of honor, and many gentlemen rank the good opinion of their creditors above that of their wives.”

“And does Miss deCourcy offer no better return than the reconciliation of debts and the goodwill of the wine dealer and the tailor?”

“No more immediate return, but a little ill fortune could work greatly to his advantage, as the deCourcy entail is somewhat vulnerable.”

“In what way? Is there not an heir? I have heard that Miss deCourcy has a brother.”

“Yes, but he is not above seventeen or eighteen, so it will be some years before he can marry and produce an heir of his own. Other than this young man, there is Sir Reginald’s brother, Mr. Lewis deCourcy, who is a bachelor and past fifty. After that, the writ provides for the entail to pass through the female line, which would put a son of Charles Vernon in the way of considerable property.”

“And yet something very dire would have to occur to remove both gentlemen from the succession.”

“Well,” replied Sir James cheerfully, “a bit of avarice often brings out the resourcefulness in all but the best of us.”

“You see what comes of entailing fortunes entirely from the female line,” Lady Vernon observed. “You will begin to look upon your male relations as a necessity to your happiness—or an impediment to it.”

“I hope that I shall never give you cause to think of me as an impediment to yours,” he replied with grave sincerity.

chapter five

Alicia Johnson and Eliza Manwaring were of the same age, for Eliza’s husband was some years her junior and Alicia had taken a husband many years her senior. A similarity in the narrowness of their minds, a love of society, and a penchant for disparaging the finery of others and exhibiting their own had persuaded them that their husbands’ differences ought not to prevent them from being better acquainted.

“What an elegant couple!” exclaimed Mrs. Johnson, as she and Mrs. Manwaring observed Lady Vernon dancing with her cousin. “It is said that Lady Martin attempted a match between them, but her husband opposed it. It turned out well enough, for Sir Frederick Vernon seems a very amiable man.”

“There is only one daughter, is there not?” inquired Mrs. Manwaring. “They ought to have had a son. Mr. Manwaring says that Sir Frederick has been very imprudent—a son would keep a roof over their heads, at least. But I daresay they look toward making an advantageous match for Miss Vernon.”

“That cannot be for many years.”

“And yet,” replied Mrs. Manwaring with a troubled look, “if Miss Vernon is as pretty as her mother, she will have her pick of beaux. Perhaps, having lost the mother to Sir Frederick, Sir James means to marry the daughter. How often have you heard of a gentleman who lives the bachelor life for many years and then settles upon a girl he had known as a child?”

The conversation continued in this vein through supper until Mrs. Manwaring was consumed with a desire to have a look at the young girl she regarded as Maria Manwaring’s rival. The two ladies resolved to call on Lady Vernon the next day with the express purpose of getting a look at her daughter.

To their very great disappointment, they were informed that Miss Vernon was not at home.

“We do not bring Frederica to London as a rule,” said Lady Vernon. “She is much happier in the country, but Sir Frederick was able to gain admission to the apothecaries’ garden and brought her to town on purpose to spend an entire day there, for she has a keen interest in anything to do with plants and flowers.”

“La, is she scientific?” inquired Mrs. Johnson. “I am not scientific in the least, though it is said to be quite the ton, so long as it is confined to leaves and petals, which may be pressed into a book. But surely Sir Frederick does not direct her education? Has she a governess?”

“She has an excellent governess, but education is not confined to the nursery and the classroom.”

“I must compliment you on your dancing,” said Mrs. Manwaring. “But I suppose that you and Sir James have had a great deal of practice. I daresay you grew up quite as close as brother and sister.”

“Well, I can go so far as to say that James was such a companion as ensured that I would never want for a brother,” Lady Vernon agreed with a smile.

“And how is Lady Martin? Does she never come to London?”

“Not if it can be avoided. She much prefers the quiet of the country.”

“And yet Ealing Park cannot always be quiet when Sir James is in residence,” remarked Mrs. Johnson. “Lady Martin must often be pressed into service as his hostess. It is a very convenient arrangement for both of them, and one that accounts for the fact that he is in no hurry to marry.”

“I cannot answer for my cousin, but I think that Lady Martin would be very happy to see James married,” replied Lady Vernon. “I would venture to say that the event cannot occur too soon for her.”

That brought a smile to the face of Mrs. Manwaring, who saw a better chance for Maria if Sir James was encouraged to marry soon. Before she could reply, however, Sir James Martin himself was ushered into the room.

“My dear cousin!” Lady Vernon exclaimed. “I would have thought that you would still be in bed—it is not yet four o’clock.”

Sir James bowed to the visitors. “I have got a present for Freddie.” He drew a pamphlet from his pocket and handed it around. “‘An Introduction to Botany.’ It is written by a gentlewoman who proposes that our leisure be given over to mental improvement! What do you say to that, ladies?”

Lady Vernon’s visitors looked at each other. To promote the idea would be to declare oneself the most tiresome sort of bluestocking, but to reject it might be taken by Sir James as an affront to his generosity. At last, Mrs. Manwaring ventured to say, “I am sure that too much study can be as bad as too little.”

“I am quite of the same opinion,” declared Mrs. Johnson. “Leisure hours are necessary to one’s tranquillity and temperament. Excessive study may put one out of sorts.”

“I cannot disagree with you,” Sir James replied. “I do not think that you will find a more thorough idler than myself and I am never out of sorts. What is your opinion, cousin?”

Lady Vernon was very near to laughing at her cousin’s show of sincerity and managed to say only, “I have never been an advocate of throwing time away,” to which her two visitors nodded in such emphatic agreement that she was forced to turn her face away to hide her mirth.

Sir James observed his cousin’s predicament and hastened to make inquiries after Mr. and Miss Manwaring and Mr. Johnson until Lady Vernon was once again mistress of herself.

After a few more minutes of conversation, the ladies rose to depart, and when they had settled in their carriage, Mrs. Johnson declared, “What very good luck for Maria! Miss Vernon—encouraged to be scientific! That will only teach her to be the sort of dull, bookish girl that men do not like at all.”

Mrs. Manwaring was so delighted with this notion that she invited her guardian’s wife to drink tea with her and urged her to give Mr.

Johnson her warmest regards and to beg his pardon yet again that she had married against his wishes.

Lady Vernon repaid the call to Mrs. Johnson the following day and brought Frederica with her. The little girl made her curtsy and then sat quietly on an ottoman, turning the pages of the pamphlet that Sir James had given her.

“What a delightful child,” Mrs. Johnson remarked to Lady Vernon. “What a keen interest she has in her book! La, you would not see me so transfixed by a book when I was her age! What a pity she was not a boy.”

“Do you not think that science might be of interest to a girl?”

“La, yes! Children will fill their heads with knowledge that does them no good whatsoever, but we all grow out of it in time. No, I meant that a son would secure your family property, for else it will go to your husband’s brother. And that does not often work to advantage, as a brother who has his own wife and family might overlook those occasions to be generous—unless his wife is of a particularly charitable nature.”

“I must hope, then, that Miss deCourcy’s disposition is a generous one.”

“Have you never met her?”

“No, never. The news of Charles’s engagement took Sir Frederick and me quite by surprise. Charles has been a bachelor for so many years that we had concluded he was content to be so. He had never mentioned any acquaintance with Miss deCourcy at all until after the engagement had been formed.”

The visit did not last long beyond this exchange, and when Mrs. Johnson next spoke to Eliza Manwaring, she repeated it with blithe inaccuracy, and Mrs. Manwaring did not hesitate to add embellishments of her own when she conveyed it, and soon it was all around London that Lady Vernon disapproved of her brother-in-law’s union with Miss deCourcy, that she had likely expected Charles Vernon to pine away for her forever, and that she was the worst sort of hardened coquette, who could bear for no one to be admired but herself.

chapter six

The marriage of Charles Vernon to Catherine deCourcy was celebrated in so exclusive a fashion that among those excluded were the groom’s own brother and sister-in-law. Charles Vernon wrote to Sir Frederick, explaining that the ceremony was to be held very near the deCourcy estate and that the indifferent health of Sir Reginald would not allow for much company and commotion. Sir Frederick was sorry to miss the ceremony, as weddings were such happy gatherings, but he wrote to his brother offering kind congratulations, and Lady Vernon likewise dispatched her very best wishes to her new sister-in-law. The replies they received were civil and completely lacking in warmth, for Miss deCourcy had been informed by her mother, who had heard from her husband’s sister, Lady Hamilton, who had been told by Lady Millbanke, who had it on very good authority from Eliza Manwaring that Lady Vernon was said to have heard something so ill of Catherine deCourcy as to make her positively set against Charles Vernon’s marriage.

As for Charles Vernon, he had got a handsome dowry, a position in a banking establishment, and a wife. Another man would have been contented, but Charles was of a temperament that dwelt less upon what he had attained than what he had been denied. An alliance with one of the oldest families in England did not do away with the knowledge that his first choice had preferred his brother, and a position with a respectable establishment only served to remind him that he was obliged to do something to keep himself, while Frederick had to do nothing at all. But what rankled most was the fact that Frederick would not sell Vernon Castle for what Charles was willing to pay, which left him unable to purchase an establishment of his own, as he had been compelled to apply the greater part of his wife’s dowry toward reconciling his debts. He and his bride, therefore, had no alternative but to settle in Parklands Cottage on the deCourcy estate.

Parklands Cottage was far less humble than the term cottage generally implied. The residence was modern and roomy and the gardens and copses were so cunningly laid out as to almost make one forget that it was only separated from the great house by a quarter-mile lane. Unfortunately, Charles Vernon could not forget it. Mrs. Vernon felt herself obliged to visit her parents every day, and these visits often concluded with Lady deCourcy walking back to the cottage with her daughter and staying to tea. Visitors to Parklands were rare, and there was no sport at all, as Sir Reginald’s frail health would not permit the commotion. They dined with fewer than half a dozen families, people who had no conversation and little interest in anything beyond the neighborhood. Charles was not long married when he was persuaded that if he could put a greater distance between his wife and her parents, he might almost be willing to sacrifice one or two of his private vices to accomplish it.

A situation in the banking house had the material advantage of taking him often to town. There, in the livelier society of gentlemen who had amassed fortunes in India or Antigua, or who had been the happy beneficiary of a relation’s premature demise, and free from the scrutiny of his wife and her mother, Charles gave way to indulgence. When these visits concluded, he would return to Parklands less contented and more in debt than when he had left it, and he would half resolve to live frugally. But whenever a surplus of money came his way, it was spent.

In due course, they were blessed with a young Charles, who was followed by Frederick, Kitty, and Regina. With each addition to her family, Mrs. Vernon was more content to remain as they were, while Vernon became impatient for change, an impatience that had him always eager to accept his affectionate brother’s invitations to visit Churchill Manor. Mrs. Vernon, persuaded as she was that Lady Vernon had opposed her marriage, would never consent to going, but her mother had advised that a gentleman must have some diversion, and Churchill was a better bargain than London, where Charles was wont to spend too freely.

And yet Vernon’s visits to his brother were not entirely without cost, for they had a very adverse effect upon his equanimity and contentment. The family property, which in his youth Vernon had found to be very dull and insignificant, had become one to be coveted. Vernon did not consider how far Sir Frederick’s affability and Lady Vernon’s refinement and taste had effected Churchill Manor’s rehabilitation. He saw only that there it was all liveliness, elegance, and good company, which was a sharp contrast to the dull routine of Parklands Cottage and the insipidity of the deCourcy family circle.

Inevitably, Charles Vernon would come away from Churchill Manor, dwelling upon the accident of birth that had given Sir Frederick precedence, and lament, “What an excellent thing it is to have an estate of one’s own! Why would they not sell Vernon Castle to us! How well situated we should have been if I had been the elder!”

His wife did not share his feeling; she longed for no change in circumstance, as there would be no other situation where she might be both a pampered daughter and a complacent wife. “We must not be downcast, my dear, but look to the future and hope for the best. Sir Frederick is already past forty, and he cannot live forever. We will have Churchill Manor in time, or our son shall.”

Charles could not be encouraged by the latter prospect, as it could not take place until his own demise, and soon all of his waking hours were entirely consumed with schemes and contrivances directed toward improving his situation—imaginings that, more often than not, were reliant upon Sir Frederick being put in his grave.

chapter seven

In Frederica’s fifteenth year, a spell of excellent weather persuaded Sir Frederick to bring together a small hunting party to Churchill Manor after Michaelmas. A matter of business kept Sir James Martin at Ealing Park, and as there were no other single gentlemen in the party, many of the marriageable ladies and their mothers had stayed at home as well. On a morning that was too damp for the ladies to take exercise out of doors, Lady Vernon sat with Eliza Manwaring and Frederica’s governess, Miss Wilson, in the parlor that overlooked the hedgerows and lawns.

“Maria and I enjoyed our month at Bath so much that we may do it again in the coming year,” Mrs. Manwaring remarked. “I recommend it for Miss Vernon, as there were a great many plants and grasses that grow nowhere but in that climate. And the public rooms are filled with a very lively set of young people. I think she would like it far better than London.”

“I think that she would like to stay here in the country better than either of them, but we must bring Frederica to town for the season,” replied Lady Vernon. “She has been to London only once, and my Aunt Martin means to come down on purpose to see Frederica presented at court.”

“Well, you must not have any great expectations for her first season, and if nothing comes of it, you will have time for a few weeks at Bath. I am certain that Mr. Lewis deCourcy will be happy to have you come, particularly now that there is a family connection that brings you even closer.”

“My fondness for Mr. deCourcy cannot be improved upon. I will always be grateful to him for his many kindnesses to my father.”

“He is truly the gentleman, to be sure, and quite distinguished looking for a man of his age. His nephew must resemble him, for it is said that Sir Reginald is quite frail and sickly. Have you met Mrs. Vernon’s brother?”

“Mr. Reginald deCourcy? Why, no. Do you know him?”

“We very nearly met him at Bath,” said Eliza. “He was at an assembly with our mutual acquaintance Mr. Charles Smith—a very high-spirited, forward sort of young man. I had hoped that he would introduce us, but Mr. Reginald deCourcy did not seem inclined toward talking much to anybody, and he did not stay above an hour, though Mr. Smith remained until the very last.”

“And what is Mr. deCourcy like?”

“He is certainly a handsome fellow, tall and a bit imposing in his bearing and countenance, but I suppose he has every reason to think well of himself, for there are few young men in England who will come into a better fortune. Try as we might, we did not see Mr. deCourcy again before we left Bath. Mr. Smith told us that his friend spent nearly all of his time at the library and declared that Mr. deCourcy was a very dull fellow, though I am certain that he exaggerates, for Charles Smith is the sort who always takes it upon himself to amend the truth.”

“Then perhaps in amending Mr. deCourcy’s character, he improves it, and in truth Mr. deCourcy is much duller than his friend reports.”

Eliza was about to make her reply when Frederica flew into the room with her hair disheveled and her apron strings flying loose. “Mama! Come at once! Father has been injured!”

Miss Wilson threw aside her needlework and rang the bell while Lady Vernon and Frederica dashed out of the house and tumbled down the sloping meadow to the wood. The two women had just reached the trees when they were met by a party of men who were carrying the senseless Sir Frederick. His forehead and one forearm were wounded and bleeding.

“Good God, what has happened to him!” Lady Vernon cried in great distress.

“I found him on the ground with his boot caught in a large tree root,” Charles Vernon stammered. “It must have tripped him up, and he struck his head when he fell.”

Lady Vernon took command at once and ordered one of the men to send for the surgeon while Sir Frederick was carried to his chamber. She then called for water and bandages, and with the assistance of her daughter and her maid, dressed her husband’s wounds while the others paced and asked each other if there was something more to be done.

The surgeon arrived, examined the patient, and praised Lady Vernon for her skill, declaring, “You must summon me at once if he regains consciousness, but until that time, you can only make him as comfortable as possible.” He then departed with a promise to return that evening.

Lady Vernon remained at her husband’s side, leaving Miss Wilson and Deane to perform her offices. Mrs. Manwaring suggested that a house full of company would only add to Lady Vernon’s burden and advised that they make preparations to depart. Manwaring argued against his wife’s proposal—they must remain, he was certain that Sir Frederick would wish them to remain—but the rest of the party was of the mind that they must defer to Sir Frederick’s brother, and Charles Vernon seemed very eager to have them go.

His presence proved to be more of a trial than a relief to Lady Vernon. His excessive agitation did nothing to promote an atmosphere of confidence and calm, and his attempts to take Frederica’s place at her father’s bedside were so persistent that they were an irritation rather than a comfort. Lady Vernon rebuffed him with as much civility as she could, but she could spare little attention for anyone but her husband.

Frederica would not yield her place to her uncle, but when Sir Frederick appeared to be sleeping comfortably, she slipped into his dressing room and, taking up a sheet of paper and pen, she wrote to Sir James.

Miss Vernon to Sir James Martin

Churchill Manor, Sussex

My dear cousin,

I would not trouble you when the business that has kept you from coming to us must be pressing, but a terrible situation has risen that compels me to beg for your immediate assistance. My father has been gravely injured and I know that my mother would be grateful for your counsel. She cannot leave my father’s bedside, or she would write to you herself.

Do come to us, but only if it can be managed to your convenience and without distressing my dear Aunt Martin.

Your affectionate cousin,

Frederica Vernon

Sir James was at Churchill Manor within twenty-four hours of the receipt of the letter, with a prominent Derbyshire physician in tow.

Charles Vernon was visibly alarmed when Sir James arrived, and his greeting was barely civil. “My niece was very wrong to distress you and Lady Martin.”

“She meant no offense, I am sure,” Sir James declared. “I am certain that Frederica’s only desire was to prevent Mother from hearing this unhappy news from another.”

“There is nothing at all to be done that the servants and my sister’s kind neighbors cannot do.”

“If that is the case, then you must not prolong your absence from Parklands,” declared Sir James coldly. “It may be days, or even weeks, before there is a change for the better or worse. You cannot be spared from your family for so long.”

Vernon struggled to conceal his chagrin. To endure days or weeks until his brother’s fate was known was a great hardship. If Sir Frederick was to succumb, would it not be better that it happened immediately, rather than eventually, and spare everyone the pain of agonized suspense?

Two days after Vernon’s departure, Lady Vernon and her daughter were sitting at Sir Frederick’s bedside when he opened his eyes and declared in a very weak voice, “Ah, what a fright you gave me. I thought at first that I had gone to the angels, but here it is my dear wife and little Freddie beside me.”

Lady Vernon wept with relief when she heard his words, and Frederica was so overcome that she began to sob and ran from the room. Sir James found her sitting in the garden, giving vent to her emotions, and he began to babble something about the grounds, mistaking a fir for a spruce and debating whether moss grew in the sun or the shade until Frederica was obliged to calm herself far enough to set him to rights.

Sir Frederick improved and soon was able to leave his chamber and sit with the family for part of each day. Sir James remained at Churchill, and his brilliant cheerfulness, when added to the gentle solicitation of Lady Vernon and her daughter, and the diversion of Alicia Johnson’s chatty missives, had a beneficial effect upon Sir Frederick’s health and spirits.

Mrs. Johnson to Lady Vernon

Edward Street, London

My dear Susan,

It grieves me immensely to think that Sir Frederick’s situation must keep you from coming to London at all. I cannot take pleasure in anything nor delight in going anywhere if there is not the possibility that we should meet. I dined with the Carrs two nights ago—they were very happy to take your house for the season, and I daresay they pay a generous rent, as they are come back from Antigua with a great deal of money! They had thirty at the table, but the conversation was exceedingly dull. She wore a gown of sarcenet beaded all over and pearls wrapped about her head—her gown was green, which did not suit her complexion at all, as she has gone very brown. Your husband’s brother was among the company and he was very attentive to Mr. Carr in the way that a banker will be toward anyone who has come into plenty of money. The evening was a very late one, with most of the gentlemen still at cards when I was obliged to leave. Bye the bye, Mr. Vernon was quite cool toward me, but I put that down to the fact that he was unsuccessful in getting Mr. Johnson to put money into some sort of scheme. Surely he cannot blame me if Mr. Johnson would not open his purse—it is all that I can do to get a few new gowns out of him every year.

I was obliged to drink tea with Colonel and Mrs. Beresford on account of their leaving London for Newcastle, and to go to the Millbankes’ on account of their son’s getting engaged to Miss Reed, and we had Mr. Lewis deCourcy to dine, as he was in town to direct some matters of business for the Parkers. They have got more money than is good for them, and I expect that they will soon look to purchasing something in the country. Mr. deCourcy has taken Sir James Martin’s house for part of the winter; he declares that Sir James does not mean to come to town at all for the season.

It is a great pity that Miss Vernon will miss her season in town, but if she would like some relief from the country, you may send her to me, and I will stand up with her. There are a fine crop of naval officers come through London, and they make for good husbands as they are like to spend much of their time at sea. How I wish that Mr. Johnson had gone into the Navy, though I cannot think that I would see any less of him than I do with him upon dry land.

There is a little something in the way of a dance at the Younges’ tomorrow night, but as they have taken a very cramped set of apartments on Argyll Street, I cannot think that I will take any pleasure in it.

Your devoted friend,

Alicia Johnson

chapter eight

When at last Sir Frederick was well enough to dine with the family, and walk with Frederica to the greenhouse and back again, Lady Vernon insisted that Sir James could no longer be spared from Ealing Park and sent him away with a vow to bring Sir Frederick to Derbyshire when he was able to stand the journey. Sir James’s departure was followed, to Lady Vernon’s great displeasure, by the arrival of Charles Vernon. She could not account for his wanting to come to them, for she had heard that when his own father had lain ill at Churchill, Charles had demonstrated no patience for the sickbed or desire to be anyplace that could not promise him company and diversion.

Lady Vernon set down his parade of fraternal affection to some mercenary motive. She suspected that perhaps Charles hoped to have some gambling losses in London offset with money cajoled out of his brother, for Mrs. Johnson’s letters had given an odious picture of Charles’s want of discretion when he was in town.

Sir Frederick was more trusting; his propensity to think well of everybody had him contend that if the gravity of his situation brought out the best in Charles, he was quite content to be an invalid.

As for Frederica, she regarded her uncle with civility but avoided him whenever she could. The severity of her father’s injury had left him with no memory of the accident, but she could not forget the sight of Mr. Vernon standing motionless beside his fallen brother and afterward wondered what would have become of her father if she had not happened upon them. She had not read enough novels to convert her uncle into a certain scoundrel, but in her study of nature she had observed that from the same ground, one tree may grow up straight and sound while another may stand upright but within be all corruption and decay.

Had Lady Vernon or her daughter suspected that Charles had a very particular motive in forfeiting the pleasures of London, one or the other would have insisted upon being a third party to their meetings. Instead, they left Sir Frederick entirely under his brother’s influence, and Charles did not hesitate to use every moment to his advantage.

He would begin by engaging his brother’s sympathy and affection with some diverting anecdotes of the children, in which the cunning expressions and boyish tricks of Sir Frederick’s namesake played the principal role. These sentimental parables were invariably followed by some flattering observations upon Churchill Manor’s material improvement. “The property is quite superior to what it was,” he remarked. “I confess that I now understand our father’s decision to keep fortune and property together—though I may have harbored some youthful resentment at the time. What is the value of an entail if one has not the means to keep the estate in good order? How often have we seen a gentleman in possession of a good property carve up his fortune in such a way as to make it impossible for his heir to make even the smallest improvement? If that heir should be a single gentleman who brings some income of his own into the arrangement, all may be well, but if he should be a gentleman with a large family to provide for, either they or the property must suffer, unless some very particular provision enables him to maintain it.”

He returned to this subject whenever they had an opportunity for a tête-à-tête until Sir Frederick was compelled to consider that if anything should happen to him (though he would never consider this prospect as imminent), Charles, with a wife and four children, might find the family property to be an encumbrance if he had not the money to keep it up.

Sir Frederick’s will had been drawn some time before his marriage and had been influenced, in the disposition of his fortune, by the principles of his father, and stipulated that “all of my remaining fortune, exclusive of any portions assigned by marriage settlement and individual bequests named herein, is bequeathed to my Heir,” but of late he had given some thought to making a more equitable division of his fortune. “When we were first obliged to retrench,” he said to Charles, with no shade of reproach in his voice, “there was no possibility of enriching them beyond what had previously been settled. But in the years since, my circumstances have so much improved that I think I must set aside some portion that would ensure the comfort of my wife and settle something beyond two thousand pounds upon Frederica.”

“There will be leisure to attend to business when you are completely well,” urged his brother. “Remember that if some dire circumstance should leave my sister a widow, she would never be without a home, for the house in town is settled upon her.”

“Yes, very true,” replied Sir Frederick. “And yet a house in town can no more be kept up than a house in the country if one has not the means.”

Charles hastened to relieve his brother on this point with promises of liberality and assistance, though keeping to very general terms and avoiding the mention of any fixed sum. “What more pressing obligation can a gentleman have than to see that his brother’s widow and child are provided for? You must not suppose for an instant that I would ever neglect my obligation there—do not think for an instant that you must go to the trouble of setting anything down, for is not the word of a brother as firm as pen to paper? You have only to think what you would do for Catherine and my children to comprehend what I would do for Lady Vernon and my niece.”

This declaration rendered Sir Frederick easy—he likened his brother’s exertions to what his own would be, and so believed that the comfort of his wife and daughter were assured. Charles Vernon could not be unaffected by how readily Sir Frederick was lulled back into complacency and trust, which produced an unfamiliar warmth of feeling that persuaded him that he was almost capable of generosity.

chapter nine

Sir James was a very faithful correspondent, and as winter gave way to spring, he reminded Lady Vernon of her promise to bring the family to Ealing Park. All arrangements for Frederick’s particular comfort will be made ready as soon as you name the date, he wrote to his cousin.

For our tenants’ sake, it cannot be too soon. All of them who have had the goodness to fall ill over the winter have got better and Mother is left without anyone to put on the mend. If you do not come, I fear that she will give a pinch of bane to the groom for the pleasure of nursing him back to health.

Lady Martin’s letters were more direct.

Lady Vernon read the last portion of this letter to Frederica. “I am inclined to agree with my aunt, Frederica. You have been so little in society. At school, you would learn to be more at ease among people of your own age and better able to deal with those who are different or difficult.”

“It is too much trouble to meet people who are different and best to avoid those who are difficult,” replied Frederica.

“You cannot always be at Churchill.”

“What a great pity it is that I was not a boy. Then our property would be secure, and I should not have to go anywhere at all.”

“It is not a pity,” Lady Vernon replied with a smile. “We would not exchange you for a dozen sons. But the day will come when Churchill is no longer your home. You will be well married, and I will come to your grand estate and take possession of some little set of rooms and spoil your children and plague your husband.”

At last, Frederica was compelled to smile. “But what of Miss Wilson? I should be very sorry to think of her being cast out into the world.”

“And so would I, but it seems that Dr. Bentley has tended to other matters while he has been with us. He has made his proposals to Deane and my dear Deane has accepted him. If Miss Wilson will not think it a very great degradation to go from your governess to my lady’s maid, she may condescend to remain. Her steadiness and good character have been a great comfort to me these many months.”

In the first week in April, Dr. Bentley and the surgeon determined that Sir Frederick was strong enough to travel, and a party consisting of Sir Frederick, Lady Vernon, Miss Vernon, Dr. Bentley, and Miss Deane left Sussex for Derbyshire.

When the carriage drew up to the great house, Lady Martin herself came out to greet them, and looking over Sir Frederick with a sharp eye, she declared, “Why, you are worn to nothing! You must go right to your chamber and I will have a dish of beef tea sent up to you at once!”

When Sir Frederick had been dispatched, Lady Martin looked over Lady Vernon and her daughter. “Ah,” she said to the former, “it is a blessing that you have your mother’s looks. Her family were Osbournes and the Osbourne looks would stand up to any trial! Frederica, go to the greenhouse and have the gardener show you the geraniums that you helped him get into bloom—they have got as big as cabbages!”

“I would prefer to go up to my father, if you please, ma’am.”

“Well, go then. I will have Cook send up a portion of plum cake and you may toast a slice of it for your father. One slice will do him no harm.”

Frederica made a hasty curtsy and hurried off to her father’s chamber.

Lady Martin took her niece into the parlor and scrutinized her thoroughly. “And what is the true state of Frederick’s health? Dr. Bentley had written that he had no illness of an infectious nature—why does he not improve more rapidly?”

“I do not mind if he improves slowly, Aunt, so long as he gets back his strength in the end.”

“And what do you think of my scheme to place Frederica in school? There are some excellent schools in town that are just the place to meet well-connected girls with single brothers. She will not find a husband in a greenhouse. Ah, me, it is such a trial to see that everybody makes a good match. When I think of how it may have turned out if my husband had not introduced you to Frederick—you might have taken James off my hands.”

“There might have been even more dire consequences, Aunt. I might have married Charles Vernon.”

“No, you would not, for I would have stepped forward to prevent it,” Lady Martin averred. “You were far too clever for Charles Vernon and he would not have liked you for it.”

“Then we must hope that he has got a wife who is not too clever to suit him.”

“I think his wife would suit him better still if she did not come with a mother.”

“Charles told Sir Frederick that Lady deCourcy was a most attentive mother-in-law.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Lady Martin. “That is what your dear husband said because he has the provoking habit of making people out to be pleasing when they have neither the talent nor the inclination to live up to his good opinion! I have no doubt that what Charles Vernon said was that Lady deCourcy is a meddlesome busybody who is at Parklands Cottage with her daughter far more than she is at Parklands Manor with her own husband.”

“Is her husband’s company so tedious? His brother, Lewis deCourcy, is a most amiable gentleman.”

“Well, brothers are not always like, as you no doubt have learned,” replied Lady Martin. “Sir Reginald was the first son, and they do not have to be agreeable if they are not inclined. The marriage was arranged by their families when they were children, and women who are sure of a husband do not bother to cultivate any talents. If she had learned to play or paint or enjoy a book, she might be good for something other than prying into her daughter’s affairs, and Charles Vernon has no patience for a mother’s meddling.”

“Who does not like a mother’s meddling?” inquired Sir James, who entered the room in time to overhear the remark. “Not I, surely! Do I not come down every fortnight during the season so that you may tell me that I have attended too many parties and lost too much at cards?”

“You play too well to have suffered any loss of significance.” Lady Vernon smiled.

“I have lost only once, and then because I held my hand and did not play it when I should have,” he replied gravely.

“That will teach you to play high when you cannot afford to lose,” his mother said briskly. “You and your cousin have confidences to exchange, no doubt. You may take Susan for a turn about the grounds.”

Sir James gave his arm to his cousin and they set out toward the park.

“I went up to welcome Frederick and I must say that, while I mean no offense to Dr. Bentley—for I understand that his interest was diverted at Churchill, and that there is to be a Mrs. Bentley ere long—I had hoped to see Frederick in better color. I have all due confidence in the efficacy of Mother’s marrow pie, but if your time with us does not improve him, you may want to consult with a specialist in London or Bath. So Vernon has been with you a good deal, has he?”

“Yes.”

“I am not fond of Vernon, but perhaps I have not done him justice. Does not a willingness to forgo so many weeks of diversion in London in order to attend Frederick—which is very different from what his conduct was toward his invalid father—bespeak an encouraging change of heart?”

“I would be easier in my mind if his partiality had come in easy stages, for I am always wary of a swift reversal of sentiment,” was Lady Vernon’s response. “A sudden change of heart is never to be trusted.”

chapter ten

Sir Frederick returned to Churchill Manor much stronger than when he had left it, and encouraged by any small symptom of energy or well-being, he disregarded the cautions of Dr. Bentley and the surgeon and resumed all of his former pursuits.

One afternoon, as summer was nearing an end, Sir Frederick and Lady Vernon made their way, in a leisurely fashion, around Churchill Pond to a point of rising ground that gave them a pleasant view of the scattering of fields and tenants’ cottages below. The sight seemed to inspire Sir Frederick anew with his obligation as husband, landlord, and master, and as they turned back, he raised the matter of amending his will and resolved that Mr. Barrett, the attorney from Churchill, would be sent for on the following morning.

He related, for the first time, Charles’s many pledges and promises regarding their legacy. “For Charles’s sake, as well as for your own, I was very pleased with his voluntary assurances—it does credit to his heart, for a man who has a wife and four children can have no motive other than goodness and affection to be liberal with mine.”

Lady Vernon could not share his complacency on this point, and she might have been sorry that she had allowed Charles to engage so much of her husband’s undivided interest if she were not certain that another day would legally preserve, from the profligacy of Charles Vernon, what was necessary for her security and Frederica’s future.

They discussed the particulars of how Sir Frederick’s wealth should be disposed of with the security that came from the conviction that they now had many more years before any of these contingencies would come to pass. With a tragic irony that will occur sometimes in life and always in novels, they had no sooner resolved upon the amount of their daughter’s fortune than Sir Frederick fell to the ground, and within an hour, he was dead.

Lady Vernon collapsed in a state of shock and was carried to her bed. Frederica remained steadfastly at her side while Wilson composed the necessary communications to the family and assisted the housekeeper in preparations for the arrival of visitors and in hastily dyeing garments for mourning.

The party that assembled at Churchill Manor was very small, consisting only of the Martins, the Manwarings, Mr. Lewis deCourcy, and Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, their neighbors from Staffordshire. Charles Vernon came alone, presenting to Lady Vernon a very pretty note of condolence from Mrs. Vernon and an apology that she could not be spared from Parklands and the children.

“How very unfeeling!” declared Lady Martin to her son. “Such incivility toward poor Susan! And as for Vernon, he struts about as though he is quite the master.”

“He is the master,” Sir James replied with more composure than he felt. “As for Mrs. Vernon, we must excuse her—perhaps she feared that there would have been as much indelicacy in her coming as incivility in staying away.”

Every household for ten miles around was represented at the funeral service, for Sir Frederick had been held in very high regard; and many side glances were cast toward Charles Vernon by the servants and tenants, who fervently hoped that the new master would be as quick to dispense alms and provisions and as tardy in the collection of his rents.

The Reverend Mr. Chapman read the service with feeling, as he had lost a great patron and friend in Sir Frederick. They had enjoyed many hours of backgammon in Churchill’s library, partaking of the excellent dark ale that Dr. Bentley had prescribed for Sir Frederick’s health, and every Sunday there seemed to be some point of theology that could not be resolved upon the parish steps and so obliged Mr. Chapman and his wife to dine with the Vernons in order to settle their differences.

The party returned to Churchill Manor to dine, and Charles Vernon did not scruple to take his brother’s place at the table, which gave such distress to Frederica that she burst into tears and ran out of the room. Lady Vernon followed her daughter and the rest sat down to awkward silence and more awkward conversation, and before the ladies withdrew, Vernon excused himself from the table and shut himself up in the library to write a letter to his wife.

Mr. Vernon to Mrs. Vernon

Churchill Manor, Sussex

My dear wife,

As circumstances have not permitted you to acquaint yourself with Churchill Manor and the surrounding property, I will have the pleasure of accompanying you on your first tour of the estate, and while it is nothing to Parklands, I do not think that you will be disappointed. The society will not be what you were accustomed to in Kent, but except for one or two families that we will be obliged to notice, the neighboring estates are just far enough to make the distance a convenient excuse for not always visiting back and forth.

As for how matters have been left, I congratulate myself that they are so far to our advantage, and that my time spent attending my brother was not done in vain. I believe that had I not sacrificed so many hours to his company and diversion, he might have dwelt upon his infirmity in a manner that may have persuaded him to amend his will and leave his fortune to Lady Vernon and her daughter. This I was able to forestall by some very general assurances that, in the event of his demise, I would always see that my sister and niece were comfortable. Be assured that no particular sum was ever stipulated, nor (though my brother spoke of the advantage of allowances and annuities) was any promised—and a very good thing it was for us, as my brother had so far recovered from the imprudence that compelled him to give up Vernon Castle, and laid aside a good savings—as much as thirty thousand pounds, perhaps—which will make a very fine addition to Churchill’s comfortable income.

Feel no distress, my dear Catherine, over what is to become of Lady Vernon and her daughter—recall that the house in town will be Lady Vernon’s outright, and that the sum settled upon her at the time of her marriage (to which my brother had added some three thousand pounds) will give her something to live on. If she wants anything more, I am certain that she need only apply to the Martins, as they are very rich.

My sister talks of placing Miss Vernon at school—yet while her education has certainly been neglected, I must think that such a place can do her no good. A temperament that is already weak will only fall prey to the giddy imaginations of those about her, and rather than attaining some measure of education, she will only incur permanent defects in understanding. She would greatly benefit from your example, and might be of some use to you in looking after the children and providing something of companionship to you when I am obliged to be in town. If you are at leisure to write, therefore, I would hope that you will send a few lines to Lady Vernon and encourage her to leave Miss Vernon with us.

Prepare our children for the change that they are to undergo and console your dear parents as far as you can. Sir Reginald and Lady deCourcy will be sorry to see us leave Parklands, but it is only a good day’s journey to Churchill, and when Sir Reginald’s health allows, I have every confidence that they will attempt it.

Our Uncle deCourcy is of the party assembled here, and I took the liberty of giving him your warmest regards, and those of your father and mother.

We shall need to purchase our own silver, as the service used at Churchill, as well as some other effects, were bequeathed to Lady Vernon and I am sure that she will take them away with her when she goes.

Your devoted husband,

Charles Vernon

chapter eleven

The following morning the party assembled at breakfast, but Lady Vernon rose feeling so ill that she was obliged to return to her bed and send Wilson down with apologies to her guests. In their presence, Vernon made a great show of concern and gave orders that everything was to be done to make Lady Vernon comfortable and that the servants need not defer to him before offering her any small amenity or service that her situation warranted. He then expressed his hope that the guests might remain at least long enough to see Lady Vernon once more, but if they were compelled to go sooner, he would convey to his sister-in-law their sincere apologies and regrets. This declaration could only make his company acutely conscious of their host’s desire for them to be off and so they all agreed that orders should be given for their carriages to be ready at two o’clock.

Vernon then went to his sister-in-law’s apartments, where she was sitting with Frederica and Wilson. Frederica avoided his gaze and looked as if she would like to run away, but her mother answered his inquiries after her health with as much composure as she could summon.

He then assured them that they were welcome to remain at Churchill Manor as long as they liked, and they were not to think for a moment that they might be in anybody’s way. Mrs. Vernon would not take it amiss if they were there still when she arrived. “I am certain that your kind friends have all quarreled over who is to take you away, and I know that you will not wish to be in a household with four active children, but if my niece is of the opposite opinion, she is very welcome to remain with us. You find yourself very low now, Frederica, but I think that the company of your cousins and the comfort of familiar surroundings will raise your spirits, will they not?”

Frederica would make no answer, and Lady Vernon replied, “My dear brother, Frederica and I are grateful for your kindness, but it would be too great a sacrifice for me to be deprived of both husband and daughter. I know that Mrs. Vernon, who is said to be the best of mothers, will understand why we would not wish to be separated just now. As for our removal, I do not think that more than two or three weeks will be necessary. I must beg you and Mrs. Vernon for your forbearance until then.”

Vernon did not believe that it was of any consequence to Lady Vernon whether her daughter remained at Churchill or was sent to a school in town. But he bowed and murmured, “Mrs. Vernon and I will always be happy to receive you at Churchill, should you find yourself left with no better place to go,” and took his leave, saying that he must see that all had been made ready for their visitors’ departure.

“My uncle talks as though our visitors leave today!” cried Frederica. “Surely they will remain a week at least! The Clarkes have had a long journey, and it will be very difficult for Mr. deCourcy to return so immediately to Bath.”

Lady Vernon dispatched Wilson to the servants’ quarters, and she returned in a matter of minutes, declaring, “So it is! They are all to leave this afternoon! Mr. Vernon has ordered the carriages for two o’clock.”

Frederica was shocked into silence at her uncle’s selfish inhospitality. Lady Vernon rose immediately. “Help me with my dress, Wilson. I must go down. I hope that they do not hasten their departure on our account. They cannot think that it is we who want them gone.” Quickly submitting to the arranging of her hair and her gown, she accompanied Frederica to the drawing room, where the party had assembled.

Sir James approached as soon as they were seated. “My dear Susan,” he began in a low voice, “my situation here is tenuous, for Vernon wants us gone, and I cannot impose myself upon him. Come away with us to Ealing Park. You may stay as long as you like, and you will not be hurried into a decision as to where you will settle.”

Eliza Manwaring spied a vacant chair beside Sir James and hurried Maria into it. (For she had brought the girl to the unhappy gathering expressly to throw her at the gentleman.) “My dear Lady Vernon, we hope that you and Miss Vernon will come to us at Langford. There may be some sport, but it will keep the men out of the way, and there will be some young people to keep Miss Vernon company. And you may be sure, Sir James, that you and Lady Martin will always be welcome to visit.” Mrs. Manwaring then solicited the support of Mr. Lewis deCourcy, who had drawn his chair up to the group. “Do you not think, sir, that it would be the best plan for Lady Vernon and her daughter to come to Somerset? I am sure that you would not have her open her house in town at this time of year.”

“Indeed, no, but I hope that you, Lady Vernon, and your daughter will give me a share of your time and come to Bath,” replied Mr. deCourcy. “I do nothing but ramble about in that large house upon the Crescent, with a barouche that sits idle while my footman and horses go to fat! The air and the waters would put some roses back into your cheeks, Miss Vernon, and you might help me determine what can be grown in my garden—I can do nothing with it.”

“I thank you for your offer, sir,” murmured Frederica.

“Will you not take a turn with me now?” continued the gentleman as he rose from his chair. “I have heard so much about the forcing gardens at Churchill and the groundsmen give you all the credit for it. I would be very sorry to be off without seeing what you have done. Come, I will take you both,” he added, offering one arm to Frederica and the other to Miss Manwaring. “I do not have the opportunity to parade about with two such elegant young ladies. I am sure that you can indulge an old gentleman for a quarter of an hour.”

The two girls exchanged shy smiles as they allowed themselves to be escorted from the room by Mr. deCourcy.

“My dear Susan, will you let me sit with you for a few minutes?” asked Mrs. Clarke, and Sir James yielded his chair to her and walked over to the window, where he gazed out with a look of sober concentration while Eliza Manwaring endeavored to determine whether Miss Vernon or Miss Manwaring was the object of his attention.

“How much time will it take you to settle your affairs here, my poor Susan?” inquired Mrs. Clarke.

“Much of that will depend upon Mr. and Mrs. Vernon.”

“I hope that you will think of coming to us—you would be put to no expense there, I assure you, and would it not be comforting to be in a place where you and Sir Frederick were once so happy? Unless the business of weddings will give you pain. It seems that neighborliness has done its work, and the sons of Colonel Edwards have asked for our girls. Anne is to marry Phillip and Mary will take Frank, and the Colonel only waits upon the weddings to be off to a more congenial climate, for he is very much afflicted with rheumatism and pleurisy.”

Lady Vernon knew that Colonel Edwards was the gentleman who had purchased Vernon Castle, and Mrs. Clarke had occasionally mentioned him in her letters as a genteel and solicitous neighbor.

“I believe he told Sir James that he means to be gone by January at the very latest, and then—why may Sir James not give Vernon Castle back to you?”

“How can my cousin give me Vernon Castle?” inquired Lady Vernon, puzzled.

“Oh, dear!” cried Mrs. Clarke. “I quite forgot! I was not to speak of it. Mr. Clarke will be so angry! But he knows that he ought not to tell me anything he does not want repeated! Yes, it is all his fault—oh, Mr. Clarke, see what you have done!” she called across the room, which caused that gentleman to duck his head in embarrassment, although he did not know why.

“Pray, what interest does my cousin have in the Edwardses’ property?” entreated Lady Vernon.

“But it is not the Edwardses’! Of course, I would know nothing of the matter had not Miss Drake mentioned something to me. She is the daughter of the solicitor in Sudbury, the one who arranged it all for Sir James. It was done with great discretion, but of course when Miss Drake heard of it, she could not keep it to herself. There are some who cannot be trusted with a secret! But, of course, it was not such a secret, for when I mentioned it to Mr. Clarke, he told me that he had known of it from the first! He who goes nowhere and takes no interest at all in gossip! How provoking! And, of course, Colonel and Mrs. Edwards were such a well-bred couple and dressed so fine, and their horses and carriage were so handsome that everyone took it as a matter of course that they were not mere tenants. I cannot imagine why Sir James wanted it to be kept such a secret, unless he did not wish for Lady Martin to think that he had bought the property as a place to put her after he marries. And though we much preferred to have you at Vernon Castle, the Edwardses have turned out to be a blessing, for I have got two sons-in-law out of it. But why do you look so distressed?”

Lady Vernon could not conceal her mortification. “When we were obliged to sell the property, I asked my cousin only to assist us in finding a purchaser. It was not ever our intention to solicit relief. We were quite determined against taking any charity from my cousin or Lady Martin.”

“Oh, I am sure it was not done out of charity. I am sure that Sir James acted from the very best of motives.”

Lady Vernon’s grief over the loss of her husband could not bear even the possibility that her cousin’s actions had cast Sir Frederick as a beggar. “My dear Phoebe, I am afraid that I am not equal to company,” she declared, rising from her chair. “If you would be so kind as to make my excuses, I will avail myself of Mr. deCourcy’s excellent advice and take a turn in the air.”

Lady Vernon slipped outside and walked down the avenue under the canopy of heavy shade. She had got as far as the steward’s lodge and was about to strike out into the road when she heard a quick step and a voice calling out her name. She turned to see Robert Manwaring hurrying toward her.

“I have found you!” he said as he fell into step beside her. “We had supposed that you meant to walk with Miss Vernon and Mr. deCourcy and Maria. I am very glad to find you alone, as I have not had the opportunity to express to you personally how deeply I feel for your loss.”

He offered her his arm with easy gallantry. “I know that all of your friends have petitioned for a share of your time, but you must allow me to add to Eliza’s arguments in favor of Langford. Think of the advantage to Miss Vernon—at Langford, she will have Maria for company, and there may be some young people about who will keep her from dwelling upon her sorrow. You may come as soon as you like and go away at once if the situation does not please you. Indeed, there will be nothing to hold you, but for …”

Here he broke off with a glance that held too much meaning to be directed toward a new widow.

Lady Vernon had never encouraged Manwaring’s flirtation unless to ignore it entirely had been encouragement. Still, she did not reject his proposal immediately. A departure from Churchill was inevitable and she and Frederica must go somewhere. Until the matter of her income was addressed and she knew what she would have to live on, she must accept the hospitality of one of her friends. She could not consider going to Ealing Park while the thought of Sir James’s deception was still fresh in her mind. She might go to the Clarkes’, and in fact, that seemed the pleasantest and most comforting option, but to be in the vicinity of Vernon Castle might aggravate her emotions rather than compose them. Bath would be hot and desolate at this time of year, and though Lady Vernon knew that Mr. deCourcy’s invitation was well intentioned and sincere, she believed that the arrival of two ladies and their necessary attendants would be too great a disruption for a quiet bachelor household. No one was in town save for Alicia Johnson, and Lady Vernon believed that Mr. Johnson was the sort of misanthrope whose hospitality could not be depended upon, even by a mother and daughter in mourning.

Langford, for all its drawbacks, seemed the least unfavorable situation for her, and the most favorable for Frederica, and as they returned to the house, Lady Vernon gave Manwaring her consent. He was so delighted to win his point that the first words uttered were improperly joyous before he remembered the occasion that had prompted the invitation and became somber once more.

Sir James did his best to conceal his surprise when his cousin announced that upon leaving Churchill Manor, she and Frederica would go to Langford. He could not address her privately until the carriages were ordered and the party were saying their farewells. “I did not think you would seriously consider going to Langford, Susan. I do not like the scheme at all. The Manwarings keep a great deal of company and—forgive me—Manwaring admires you too much for a married man. Your situation will not protect you, for he may think that you are all the more susceptible for being unencumbered and may behave in a way that will distress you and embarrass Freddie.”

“Forgive me, cousin,” she returned with some warmth, “but I am no longer certain that you have ever understood what will distress or embarrass me or my family.”

“I understand enough to know how Vernon’s rudeness must make you uneasy—to send your friends and relations away—he has a very strange notion of hospitality and charity.”

“I neither expect nor desire charity, cousin, as any of my acquaintance ought to understand. Nothing could be so offensive to my husband’s memory as to have his wife and daughter become the objects of charity.”

Sir James looked upon her with bewilderment and made no reply. He concluded that it was too early to expect any moderation in her grief. Within a few weeks, he would no doubt receive a letter from her expressing a change of heart and a desire to come to Derbyshire.

Lady Martin bustled up to them and gave her niece a hearty embrace. “If they do not suit you at Langford, you will always have a home with us. Come, James, we cannot delay or we will be on the road after sunset and then who knows what will befall us!”

Sir James kissed his cousin’s hand and then addressed Frederica, insisting that she be a faithful correspondent and assuring her that it would take only a line from her to bring him to their aid.

The carriages departed, the women retired to their rooms. They did not come down to dine, and so Charles Vernon dined alone, eating little and drinking a good deal of Sir Frederick’s excellent port.

chapter twelve

On the following day, Lady Vernon rose from her bed and went directly to her writing desk, where she sat down to calculate how little of her husband’s debt was outstanding, how far his rents had increased, and how frugally they had lived over the last half-dozen years. By these tallies, she determined that Sir Frederick may have left as much as thirty thousand pounds with his estate.

Lady Vernon resolved to address Charles at the earliest opportunity on the matter of how she was to be recompensed; she was sensible of the indelicacy of raising the subject so soon after her husband’s funeral, but she could not trust the firmness of his promises as far as Sir Frederick had. If his memory of them was not fixed while she and Frederica were before him, it must dissipate when they were out of his sight.

Vernon steadily avoided all discourse by keeping himself away from the house as much as possible. For the first days after his brother’s funeral, he rode out very early or found some concern that took him into Churchill, and at last, with no notice whatsoever, he departed for London, where the unhappy presence of his sister and niece were not always before him. There, the society and its diversions soon eased him into the conviction that whatever assurances he may have given his brother had only been the sort of necessary lies one is compelled to give to an invalid. Would not a gentleman who had a wife and four young children to maintain (and who must keep himself in some style when he was in town) need far more than a widow who was not without rich relations, and a daughter who was of an age when she would soon marry?

Soon Vernon was persuaded that there had been no promise at all, only an informal understanding that Lady Vernon and her daughter would not starve.

Lady Vernon could not believe that Charles meant to stay away from Churchill Manor until after she and Frederica departed, but when a week passed with no word from him, she dispatched a letter to his address in town.

She did not post this letter but sent it with the housekeeper who was to take charge of the Portland Place residence, and instructed her to carry it directly to Mr. Vernon’s lodgings in town. She would dearly have loved to send the portrait of Sir Frederick to Portland Place as well, but she conceded that its place was in the gallery at Churchill among those of his forebears, and so contented herself with a likeness of him set into her locket.

She then turned her attention to separating her personal possessions from what property belonged to Churchill and distributing Sir Frederick’s clothing to the menservants and the poor. There were gloves to be dyed and bonnets to be divested of trimming and swans-down and lined with crepe. She and Frederica took leave of the neighborhood, exchanging particularly affectionate farewells with the Chapmans.

Instead of any reply from Charles, Lady Vernon received a visit from Mr. Barrett, the attorney from the village of Churchill. He hemmed and hawed a great deal and presented Mrs. Barrett’s compliments and after making every possible observation upon her loss and the weather and what a pretty note their housekeeper had got from Mrs. Bentley, who had married Lady Martin’s doctor, and how Mrs. Barrett had so often joked that she had rather married a doctor or an apothecary at least, “as seven children will go through so many illnesses and sprains and fevers that it would be a great savings if their father were in the trade, while the cost of bringing them all up upon the earnings of a country lawyer would leave them nothing left over to bequeath to any of them,” he got around to the purpose of his visit.

“It would have been a great benefit to address the family together, but Mr. Vernon was obliged to be in town and he was most particular that you know how matters stand before you depart.” He then gave her the dubious satisfaction of knowing that her calculations had been quite on the mark, and that Sir Frederick had, indeed, left a fortune of some thirty thousand pounds—which, owing to the language of his will, was to be disposed entirely upon Churchill’s heir.

“The generosity of your relations, in adding to your settlement at the time of your marriage, when added to the three thousand pounds given over to you by Sir Frederick at the time that Vernon Castle was first purchased …” He groped about for words, which trailed off into something like “… your house in town … the kindness of your relations … the Martins may always be depended upon …”

This remark served only to call up Lady Vernon’s aversion to charity—she would not allow Mr. Barrett to suppose that she was left so indigent as to have to beseech the Martins’ aid. She assured him that she would be able to manage very well and conveyed her warmest regards to Mrs. Barrett.

The following day Lady Vernon and Frederica walked to the churchyard to lay flowers upon Sir Frederick’s grave, and the day after, with a last, unhappy glance at her family home, Lady Vernon, accompanied by her daughter and Wilson, set off for Langford.