Page 39 of A Wicked Business

Chapter 12

Dearest Mama,

I know, I know, I am a wicked creature who neglects you horribly and you’ve not seen or heard from me in an age. 'Tis all true, and I most humbly beg your forgiveness. My only excuse is that work is going wonderfully well, and I must remain in town to strike while the iron, or my brushes, are hot! I promise to come as soon as I may and allow you to scold your disreputable son as much as you like.

I am, however, to put your heart at rest, in good health and good spirits. I know I gave you a good deal to worry about, but my drinking is done, I promise. I’m rather happy, actually. Life is good (despite my friends dragging me into their ridiculous dilemmas, which are all entirely of their own making) and I want for nothing. I’ve decided the life of a bachelor suits me very well, and I’m afraid you must wait a good while longer to add to your collection of grandchildren. Grace is doing the job admirably, it seems. For now, I appreciate the ease and peace of my life as I have never done before. Though in truth, the racket going on next door at present would try the patience of a saint and drive the poor devil to drink too. I appear to have new neighbours arrive today and the hullabaloo they are causing moving in is astonishing. Here I am, trying to commune with my muse, and there is their grubby little lad out in the garden, banging on a saucepan! I can only pray that his doting mama is distracted by the trials of the day, and this is not normal behaviour.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Hon’ble Larkin Weston to his mother, The Right Hon’ble Jemima Weston, Lady Rothborn.

5th August 1850, en route to Keston House, Grosvenor Square, London.

“Do stop looking so Friday faced, Doris,” Belinda said wearily as her father’s carriage bore them back home. She had made Doris remain in the carriage while she visited the earl, uncertain of how Ashburton would react if Doris chose to stick her oar in as she was wont to do. She had taken matters into her own hands, sealing her fate, and now the energy which had sustained her through the interview with Lord Ashburton had entirely vanished.

“I ain’t—I’m not Friday faced, my lady. Only sad and very concerned for one whose happiness is my chief concern.”

Belinda smiled. Doris was making great strides with her grammar and it pleased Belinda no end to see the confidence it gave her as she understood the rules. Doris was not only formidable, but intelligent too, something others often overlooked when they heard her speak.

Belinda reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers. “You’re a dear friend to me, Doris, far more than simply my maid, and that you care for me too is a great comfort. But there is no need to worry so. Ashburton is a gentleman and he’ll be generous. We have agreed we may be friends but otherwise live our own lives. So, I shall be safe and free to live as I please. Isn’t that marvellous?”

“If it’s so bleedin’ marvellous, why do you look like a wet weekend at Brighton? That’s what I’d like to know,” Doris said mutinously, her accent slipping as worry overcame her.

“I’m sure I look nothing of the sort,” Belinda retaliated, nettled. “I’m… I’m just a little weary, that’s all.”

“Yes! Because you cried all night over the fellow you ought to be marrying,” Doris said irritably.

“Well, you’ve changed your tune,” Belinda remarked crossly. “Last night you were all for cutting off his—”

“My lady!” Doris glared at Belinda in shock. “I never thought to hear such language from you.”

“I didn’t say anything yet, and I was not about to use a vulgar word in any event,” Belinda retorted, exasperated. “But last night you were discussing how to dispose of his lifeless body, and today you think I ought to be marrying him! That’s a volte-face if ever there was one.”

“Don’t you go using flashy words to bamboozle me, you little minx. I well know what I said, but I had a sleepless night too and I got to thinking. What was you doing throwing a marriage proposal at the poor bloke like that, without no warning? You can’t go frightening young men like that, my lamb. They might look all big and muscly, but their little hearts are fragile, tender things and they need careful handling.”

Belinda looked at Doris sceptically. “Mr Knight is not fragile.”

“Not to look at, no,” Doris said, impatient now and looking like she wanted to give Belinda a shake. “But I reckon you scared the daylights out of him. You hardly know the poor fellow, for all it might feel like he’s your soul mate, which I don’t doubt is what you think.”

“I think no such thing,” Belinda protested, though she knew she wasn’t being entirely honest.

Being in company with Mr Knight brought her a deep sense of familiarity. She thought it might be at least half the reason he irritated her so, because there was none of the constraint she might feel with a stranger. Rather, it seemed as if she were bickering with someone she’d known all her life… and it felt entirely normal.

Doris sighed, her voice softening. “Look, lovey, he’s a handsome young fellow, plump in the pocket, and with his whole life ahead of him. What’s he thinking about, hmm? He’s thinking about kicking up larks, how to make more money, and when he can tumble the next pretty lass into his bed. Marriage ain’t in his mind. Not until you put it there, any rate. If you’d just have got him to kiss you like I told you, we’d not be in this fix.”

“He did kiss me, drat you, and we are not in a fix, Doris. One day I’ll be the Marchioness of Montagu.”

“Ha! And will that fancy title keep you warm on a cold night, I ask you?” Doris folded her arms, returning a knowing look. “And how did you like it when Mr Knight kissed you?”

Belinda flushed and looked away. “I refuse to discuss it a moment longer. Mr Knight has made his feelings perfectly clear and, even if I was mistaken, he must hate me now after the way I insulted him.”

“Oh, my lamb, things that people say in the heat of the moment are not to be regarded. He hurt and embarrassed you and you retaliated. Human nature, that is, and I reckon he’s smart enough to know that too.”

“No, Doris. It’s too late. I’ve agreed to marry Lord Ashburton. How would it look if I turned around now and changed my mind? He’ll never take me seriously again and when this… this nonsense with Mr Knight was proven once again to be nothing, I’ll have lost my chance. I beg you will not mention his name to me again.”

“But—”

“Never again!” Belinda said, with such force even Doris was forced to close her mouth.

They returned to Keston House with Doris’ sullen silence making it clear she thought Belinda was an idiot. Belinda didn’t care. She thought she was an idiot too, but at least now she had some certainty in her life. She would have a home, her own money, and a life she could shape as she wished. Perhaps in time, Ashburton’s daughter would come to like her, and they really could be friends. Perhaps she’d have children of her own one day.