The dinner thatevening at the Duke of Pelham’s house was jolly, though there were perhaps two people at table who had to put a good face on it.
Valor chose her own particular route. She pointed out her gracious and charitable nature in agreeing to come to Torquay on account of an old person’s feelings.
The dowager had taken a moment to understand thatshewas the old person in question. She did not make a fuss about it, though. She had examined her various futures and determined she could on no account live on a property where her daughter-in-law took precedence. Torquay it must be and she had no choice but to fall in line. It would be far easier to stop harassing her grandson than it would be to put up with her daughter-in-law marching around the estate as the new duchess.
Of course, Valor had not entirely given up her earlier strong opinions and made some dark hints about what she’d seen that morning. She stared accusingly at her sister’s husbands as if they too were guilty of harboring the same terrible secret, though she did not specify what it was. Those husbands were left to wonder what in the world she had witnessed. They all had a feeling of guilt for somehow having the same secret, though they could not pinpoint what it might be.
Afterward, Fact or Fib was trotted out, and Lord Manderbey was pressed to reveal how he’d made his proposal. The party found themselves surprised that it had been done out a window, not least of all the duke.
The evening came and went and the days came and went. Manderbey always arrived right after breakfast and they decided what to do, mostly based on the weather. If it were fine, they might take their horses to the park. Manderbey got his first look at what a Dales pony could really do on these galloping excursions. It was lucky that the grooms that followed them were the duke’s and rode Dales ponies themselves, as Leland did not know how any other grooms would have kept up.
If it rained, they might set off for Lackington & Allen or shopping for wedding clothes, though Manderbey found himself out of his usual milieu in the shops. The haberdasher would find him a chair near the door and he would wait until everything in the shop had been examined and taken or rejected.
He had often marveled at how quickly rumors and gossip spread over London like a settling fog. Now he understood it was not just passed from drawing room to drawing room and club to club. The shops were a hotbed of news. He began to become attuned to when something of note might be said. It seemed always to begin with “One hears the most frightful things, I can hardly bear to repeat them…though,” or “I do not like to trade in gossip…however,” or “Far be it for me to pass on a story…but.”
Manderbey kept a sharp ear out for anything around the rumor of Lady Winsome being compromised at Sir Jonathan’s scavenger hunt, but it seemed the engagement of Landry to Lady Edith and his own engagement to Lady Winsome had now made that story too improbable to repeat.
During these shopping excursions, they did not forget about Lady Valor. Winsome bought her no end of ribbons and bits and bobs. At a visit to Rundell & Bridge, Manderbey purchased an elegant emerald ring for Winsome and a pearl ring surrounded by chip diamonds for Valor. She’d not known what to make if it, but Manderbey claimed it was a tradition in his family to make a gift to the youngest in thewedding party. Valor considered it, and then she claimed that since it was a tradition, she must be charitable and gracious and accept it. It had not left her finger since.
When they were not out and about on the town, Winsome and Manderbey made good use of the quiet corners to be found in the Grosvenor Square house. There was a particular nook in the far back of her father’s library that might have blushed if it could have done so.
The day of the wedding finally arrived. Manderbey had been as good as his word and wrangled with St. George’s to get an early day. Winsome did not know how he’d done it, as that church was always booked months in advance, but she’d begun to see that her fiancé was a very enterprising sort of gentleman. For his part, perhaps an exceedingly generous donation had smoothed the way forward. After all, now that he’d cut off his relations who were squandering funds at a card table, he had plenty to spare.
Leland’s father and mother, the Duke and Duchess of Albany had been sent the news of the engagement on the day it was settled. They were happy to receive the announcement. They had not taken the tack of his grandmother and launched endless complaints about his bachelor status, but they had begun to think it was high time he found a wife. He’d found a duke’s daughter and they were well-pleased, as nothing more could have been asked for. Much to the dowager’s disappointment, they were easily able to make arrangements for the trip.
Leland’s grandmother held a real fondness for his father and was delighted to see her son after an extended parting. Her feelings over encountering the current duchess were another matter. She had always found the lady to lack the deference to herself that she felt she deserved.
The battle of polite but cutting words had gone on for years between them, but now the balance of power had shifted. The current duchess had put up with the dowager reigning over her little kingdomfor years, but the mantle had been passed. She would now take her revenge in the most dignified manner possible.
This revenge wholly consisted of statements like, “Dear Dowager, do you remember the dreary looks of the main salon? I am very glad to tell you it is all gone—drapes, carpets, furniture, all of it straight into the attics. New and more tasteful furnishings have been brought in.”
The dowager would strike back with something like, “My dear, I can hardly claim surprise. We all fondly remember your penchant for doggedly following a fashion, regardless of its sense. Goodness, I can hardly get out of my mind those green-brocade-covered shoes you were so fond of. I believe they even managed to startle the queen at one moment.”
The duchess and dowager duchess might have swords out, but the current duchess was rather adoring of Winsome. As a mother is often prone to do, she based most of her opinion of her new daughter-in-law on the effect the lady had on her son’s happiness. Further, she’d never particularly cared for her nephew, St. John, who she found a rather oily and smarmy creature.
Once the duke and duchess were apprised of St. John’s villainy, the duchess’s regard for Winsome rose even higher. As she said, while staring determinedly at the dowager, “When one with bad intentions attempts to pull one down, a lady with the requisite good breeding rises up to meet the challenge and refuses to be defeated.”
The duchess’s understanding that the dowager had been against the match made her even more firmly in favor of it.
So, in the end and despite her best efforts, it was perhaps due to the dowager that Lady Winsome was welcomed so enthusiastically into the Duke of Albany’s family as the new Marchioness of Manderbey.
Lady Marchfield came to the service and the breakfast. As usual, she hardly knew how to comport herself. On the one hand, she must be happy that her niece was so well settled. But on the other, she felther pride pricked. She had been certain that this time was the moment when her brother’s gross mismanagement of his household would lead to disaster. It was not that she wished disaster on Winsome, it was that she would like to be finally proved right.
Lady Marchfield had been rather hopeful when she’d entered the duke’s house, as she knew Mr. Wicket was still on the premises. At least one of her butlers had persevered. She would pay off his debts and it was worth every pound and pence. She could at least hold her head up high on that account. It was a bit distressing that Mr. Wicket did not show himself, but she was informed he was currently bedbound with a terrible cold. She cheered herself by remembering that even if he was abed, he was here. That diabolical housekeeper had not been able to drive him out.
That she would discover later that all Mr. Wicket had done was live in the wine cellar could not take away the satisfaction she felt on the day of the wedding.
Lord Landry and his bride, Lady Edith, made a good showing. They appeared delighted with one another. Lady Edith laid out what Landry was to think and do, and Landry very happily thought it and did it. She’d pointed out that the chicken fricassee that had come round would probably do no favors to his delicate stomach and he seemed grateful to be informed of it. They would go on to raise a family in much the same manner—Lady Edith was their kindly despot and the rest of them her loyal servants. As everybody knows, this arrangement tends to work very well when one person is driven to be in charge and the other has a mortal fear of it.
The only dispute that ever arose between them was when Lady Edith was apprised of just how much Landry was paying his butler after an endless amount of raises for services rendered of the guarding the door variety. She might have got her way and reduced Marley’s pay to what it had been before he’d become gatekeeper of the door, but in the end that fellow had protected her husband so she let it be.Marley retired with quite the hefty nest egg.
As was to be expected, all of Winsome’s sisters and their respective husbands were in attendance at the nuptials. As was perhaps not expected by some of the party, so were the various children that had so far been produced.
Grace’s son Miles was a young gentleman of six years old. He was just at an age where he had a great wish to be manly and did his best with it. His effort ended being a bit of a mixed-bag—at one moment he was gravely inquiring into the duke’s stables and the next he was collapsing in laughter over a face Isabelle made at him from across the table.
Isabelle herself was now a young lady of four. She very much had acquired Felicity’s temperament and the duke remembered all too well that it had taken his eldest daughter some years to master her temper. Isabelle was still in the midst of it and prone to becoming very red in the face when things did not go her way. The things in question tended to center on desserts and going to bed. Mr. Stratton remained shaken that she’d once told him she was going to run off and become a pirate, because nobody ever made a pirate go to bed. He’d foolishly inquired if he would be missed. In a very dark tone, she’d said, “Pirates miss nobody.”
Patience’s daughter, Lily, had just turned two and proved herself impossible at table. She wished to be on her chair, then under the table, then wandering off to find Sir Galahad, then weeping over a piece of chicken on her plate and demanding to know who put it there. She was finally sent down to the servants’ hall with Mrs. Right to cry about chicken down there.
All in all, it was a very jolly Nicolet party.
