Page 74 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“My aunt went to her bedchamber for a nap, so I sneaked out, but if my brother finds out, he’ll beat me!”

“For heaven’s sake, why?” She ran her fingers through Marianne’s hair, gently removing the knots.

“He will think I was meeting Freddy. He’ll send me to the country and lock me up until he finds a peer to marry me.” She blew her nose, stifling a sob, and gazed at Gloriana with wide, tear-drenched eyes. “And I’ll never see my darling Freddy again.”

“Surely it’s not that bad,” Gloriana said. “Your brother can’t force you to marry anyone. You’ll turn twenty-one soon, and you won’t need his permission anymore.”

“If some scheming hussy hasn’t snatched Freddy up by then,” Marianne said dolefully. “But that’s not why I came. It’s because of the gossip. Auntie says the latest on dit is that you are going to be my brother’s mistress, and that we shall then be obliged to shun you.” She sniffled. “Please don’t! Think how horrid it will be.”

With commendable calm, Gloriana said, “I have not agreed to be his mistress and never shall.”

“That’s what I thought, but people say you threw yourself at my brother last night. They say you are scandalous like the rest of your family, and that you are desperate to have him at whatever cost.”

“I expect that’s how it appeared, but I was only trying to distract him from you and Freddy. Philippe was furious at me for interfering in his plans, whatever they are.”

She hung her head. “They were my plans, and they were foolish ones. I thought if Freddy were seen to protect me from Philippe’s advances, my brother would regard him more favorably.”

Annoyed now, Gloriana said, “How could you use Philippe in such a way? He would never force himself on anyone.”

“He didn’t object. He was amused at the idea of playing a villain.” She sniffled again. “But it didn’t work. Philippe left the ball, and Alvin saw me talking to Freddy. He forbade me to speak to him ever again, and said he would send me away if I disobeyed.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “What am I to do?”

“It’s obvious,” Gloriana said. “You must elope.”

A tremulous smile lit up Marianne’s woebegone face. “Truly? That’s what Freddy says, and Philippe agrees, but think of the scandal!”

“There won’t be much scandal. It’s a perfectly eligible match. Most likely, your brother will do his best to hush up any gossip by saying he gave his permission because you were going into a decline, or some such.”

Marianne gave a tearful little giggle. “Yes, that would be just like him. He cannot stand being put in the wrong.” She bit her lip. “But will you be able to recover the Book of Hours if I run away? Not that I’ve been much help, I’m afraid. I crept into his private rooms, but I didn’t find it. I expect it’s in his strongbox, but Alvin always has the key on him.”

“Don’t worry about that.” She daren’t tell Marianne how close they were to getting the book, for fear of endangering Mr. Turner. In the meantime, she must help Marianne—and if Philippe was angry at her for interfering, so be it. “Come, I’ll walk you home. You shouldn’t be out alone, and if your brother should happen to hear that you were with me, he won’t suspect an elopement.”

Soon they were hurrying along the street. “I shall get a message to Freddy, saying you want to leave as soon as possible,” Gloriana said.

“Yes, please. But how shall I know what he has arranged? I dare not correspond with him, nor attempt to speak to him, even at a ball.”

“Don’t worry,” Gloriana said. “Freddy will arrange everything, and I’ll find a way to let you know. I expect it will take a day or two. Will he attend the Wellforth rout, do you think?”

She sighed. “I expect so. I shall be there too, and Alvin as well, watching my every move. Will you be there? Please?”

They had reached Hythwick House. “Yes, I’ll be there. In you go, dearest. Be patient, and pretend to be meek and obedient. Freddy loves you. He will whisk you away in no time.”

“Thank you,” Marianne breathed. “You are such a good friend.”

Welcome words. Gloriana hurried away, pondering strategy, and instead of going home, she turned in the opposite direction to make a morning call on the one person in her milieu whom she thought of as a true friend.

But she couldn’t with propriety make a call on a gentleman, so she spent a half hour consoling old Mrs. Bridge on her son’s impending marriage. “She’s a pretty-behaved girl,” the elderly lady said. “I grant him that, but she’s not our sort.”

“I think perhaps we, as a society, should reassess who exactly are our sort. Perhaps, for example, those who are well-meaning and kindhearted should be one’s sort, rather than those who have money or position.”

“Yes, dear, that’s all very well as an ideal, but it’s not realistic. And what’s this I hear about you throwing yourself at Lord Hythwick? It’s most unwise. He has already made it clear he won’t marry you.”

“I didn’t throw myself at him,” Gloriana retorted.

“No? How I wish I had seen it! But I’m far too old to stay up half the night at balls.”

“There wasn’t much to see. I merely changed my mind about dancing with him, because I’m sick of society’s stupid rules about how many times one may dance with a man in any given evening.”

“But flouting such a reasonable rule for Hythwick is senseless. He’s not even a graceful dancer! I also heard that you slapped the Marquis de Bellechasse because he made improper advances.”