And so itwas that a week and a bit later, Christopher and I took the train from Waterloo Station to Salisbury in Wiltshire, where we were picked up by cousin Francis in the Astley family’s Bentley. From there, we motored to Beckwith Place, where we spent the evening with Francis and Constance, and with Uncle Herbert and Aunt Roz, who were no happier about their nephew’s engagement than Christopher and I were.
“Impetuous fool,” Uncle Herbert grumbled over pudding. “There’s no way out for him now unless the young lady decides to release him from his obligation, and having met her, I don’t think that’s at all likely.”
“It would take something truly unforgiveable,” I agreed, “and given the circumstances, I can’t imagine what that might be.”
If Laetitia had accepted him despite knowing that he was in love with someone else, I had no idea what he could do that would be worse in her eyes. Surely even bedding someone else wouldn’t do it. She may even expect infidelity, and might have gone into the engagement prepared to forgive and forget if it happened.
“It boggles the mind,” Aunt Roz said, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers, eyes on the dessert wine inside while she spoke, “why a young woman like that would willingly put herself in a situation in which her future husband will most likely end up being unfaithful, not to mention end up resenting her. Has she no sense of self-preservation?”
“Or pride?” I muttered.
“Most of the time she has plenty of both,” Constance answered in her usual soft way. She’s Laetitia’s cousin, and thus must be expected to know the answers to questions like that. “I don’t know what it is about Lord St George that makes her behave like a fool.”
“Must be the money and title,” Francis said, “since it can’t be his lovely personality.”
He winked at me across the table. I smirked back. “No, surely not.”
“Unless she knows something about him that the rest of us don’t,” Francis added, referring, of course, to the fact that Laetitia had dragged Crispin into bed at one point earlier this year, and might, indeed, know something about him that the rest of us didn’t.
“Francis!” Aunt Roz said, shocked, and Constance blushed. Francis chuckled.
“Sorry, Mum. But there must be something, mustn’t there? For a girl like that to accept him, even under the circumstances?”
There was a moment’s pause, and then Christopher said, “There has to be something we can do to derail things. We all agree that we don’t want Laetitia Marsden in the family, don’t we?”
There was a general murmur of agreement from around the table. Even Constance nodded.
“What do you suggest?” I wanted to know.
He glanced at me. “Perhaps we could get him drunk and into bed with Beaton and Tennant? And then make it public. That might be shocking enough to get rid of her.”
“That’s dreadful,” Uncle Herbert said. “You would destroy your cousin’s reputation? And risk his health and future happiness? Just to get him away from Laetitia Marsden?”
“If I thought it would work,” I said, “I would do it. Unfortunately, Uncle Harold would probably thrash St George to within an inch of his life if he thought Crispin was queer.”
Better that he end up married to Lady Laetitia than dead. Marginally better, at any rate.
“Then I’m not certain what to suggest,” Christopher said. “If adultery won’t do it, of the male or female persuasion, I don’t know what else I could come up with, honestly.”
“I’m appalled that you came up withthat,” Aunt Roz told him. “Homosexuality is one thing, Christopher. Orgies are quite another.”
“That’s why it might work,” Christopher said unrepentantly. “If there were photographs…”
“The tabloids wouldn’t print them, surely?”
“Of course not!” Aunt Roz said, looking shocked.
“Then I don’t see how that would work,” Francis said. “Besides, is compromising Crispin likely to make her let go? If it were, surely he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now, would he?”
None of us answered, and he added, “What we have to do, is find something we can use to blackmail her, not embarrass him. Surely she must have done something questionable herself at some point, that we can hold over her head. Connie?”
“Nothing she has confided in me,” Constance said serenely, “unless you consider the fact that she lost her virtue to Lord St George before becoming engaged to him. It’s not unheard of, of course?—”
No, not at all. And given that it had been her idea and not his, I was pretty sure her virtue had been non-existent at the time, anyway.
“—and at this point,” Constance continued, “it’s a non-issue, of course. He has agreed to make an honest woman of her.”
After a second she added, “Although I suppose, while we’re at Marsden this weekend, I could find the time to have a gossip with some of the maids. If anyone knows what’s going on with the family, it’s a maid.”
