AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Until now, the idea of marriage had been only a vague proposition put forward by Aunt Amelia, no more real than a mirage. Since having to make her bow on the censorious stage of the Marriage Mart seemed so unlikely, she’d been able to dismiss the prospect. Now that taking that step was imminent, its outcome so important and the result of failure so disastrous, dread and doubt assailed her like footpads setting on a drunken dandy.
She was too old, she’d never been a beauty, and she was certainly not docile. Aunt Amelia’s maid could pretty her up, fix her hair, and dress her in more fashionable gowns. But would it be enough?
Could she learn to hold her tongue, be meek and attentive, defer to the gentlemen? Was it even fair for her to do so, when she’d be unable to sustain such behaviour for the rest of her life?
And what would she converse about, if she dared open her mouth? She knew very little of English politics, nothing of fashion or ton gossip. Would she be reduced to murmuring polite ‘As you say’s, or smiling inanely?
Prepared or not, she had to begin this very night.
Panic bubbled up, adding to the already caustic mix of urgency and uncertainty. She wasn’t at all sure she could do this.
But she had to do it. Maybe she’d better remind herself of the reason she was doing it.
She’d go see Charles.
* * *
Theo walked into the bedchamber to find Charles chatting away to Constancia. As she looked at him, her breath stopped and her chest squeezed painfully.
Now that the toddler roundness of his face had given way to a boy’s more sculpted shape, the outline of Marshall’s chin and cheekbones was readily apparent. Add to that the curling blond hair and bright green eyes, and for anyone who’d known Marshall well, the resemblance was striking. Much as she resented the dilemma Tremaine had thrust her into, she couldn’t fault him for recognising it, especially since Charles’s purported parents had both been notably dark.
Dear enough to her in his own right, Charles was also the living embodiment of a time of hopes and dreams when life awaited, a blank slate for she and Marshall to write upon it whatever they wished, their love a shining beacon lighting the way into their future.
A beacon that had kept her from succumbing to despair after her father’s death, that had forced her to move past her loss and plan a future, for all of them.
Despite the anguish of losing Marshall, the anxiety over the shame and scandal she might visit upon her family, the ever-present worry over the secret becoming known, she wouldn’t give up a day, even a second of life with Charles. If there was an ache in her heart that he would never call her Mama, as long as she had him with her, she could live with that.
He turned and saw her. ‘Miss Theo!’ he cried with delight, running over to her.
Theo buried her face in the soft golden locks and hugged him so tightly, he squirmed away in protest.
‘London is so big!’ he announced. ‘I’ve been looking out the window with Constancia, and the buildings just keep going and going and going! The streets are so skinny, and there’s no open fields. Where are you going to ride Firefly? Or me my pony?’
‘One doesn’t ride very much in the city, except at the park. The streets are so crowded and noisy, horses don’t like it.’
‘Can we go to the park, then?’ Charles asked, picking up immediately on the one place riding was permitted.
‘I’ll take you tomorrow morning, I promise. It’s already too late today; I’m told the fashionable gather to ride and walk in the park in late afternoon.’
‘Will we get my pony then?’
Theo laughed ruefully, wishing Lady Hazlett to perdition; once promised such a treat, as tenacious as she—and his father—Charles would keep asking until it appeared.
‘We can’t get your pony at the park. I’ll have to see where we can find one in London. But I will start looking.’
‘What are we going to do in London, then? It’s too far to go to the school. I miss Jemmie and Georgie.’
Theo felt a pang; her aunt and his grandmother were right. Having had children his own age to play with since birth, now that the excitement of the journey was over, Charles missed their company. He needed to interact with others—particularly those with whom he would continue to associate after he was grown.
Avoiding the question, she said, ‘I hope we won’t be in London long. Then we can get back to Thornfield and the school. You’ll have your pony, and a tutor, so there will be many things to do.’
‘But what will we do here?’ he persisted, too intelligent to be fobbed off. ‘If there’s lots of wagons and carriages in the park, there will be lots of horses. I like to look at horses.’
‘We can do that. There should be soldiers here, too, and we can go watch them on parade.’
His face lit up. ‘I’d love to watch the soldiers march!’
Mad for the military, like his papa, she thought. Marshall had told her how, even as a second son, he’d had to fight for his father’s permission to join the army. Recalling the desolated look on Lady Hazlett’s face, she could understand why. Praise God, there would be no Napoleon waging war when her son grew up!
‘There are many activities in London, you need only decide what you’d like to try. Later, I’ll have you come to her room and say hello again to my aunt. For now, you can play with your soldiers until dinner.’
‘What are you going to do until dinner?’
‘I have to try on dresses,’ she said in a disgusted tone, making a face.
Charles giggled. ‘I’d rather play with my soldiers.’
‘So would I. How about you try on dresses and I play with the soldiers?’
‘I’m a boy, I can’t wear dresses,’ he replied in the serious tones of a child not yet old enough to recognise the facetious.
Theo pretended to study him up and down. ‘I don’t know, I think you’d look lovely in a gown. Don’t you, Constancia?’
‘Oh, yes, senhora, most beautiful in a gown,’ the maid agreed, grinning.
‘Let’s just see, shall we?’ Theo said, grabbing him. ‘Come, the dressmaker is waiting.’
‘No!’ he protested, squealing with glee as Theo pulled him towards the door. ‘No dresses, no dresses!’ he cried between shrieks of laughter.
Laughing herself now, Theo halted at the doorframe. Kneeling down to surround him with her arms, she said, ‘No dresses? Are you sure you don’t want any?’
He pulled free within the circle of her arms and straightened his shirt. ‘No, Miss Theo. You know boys don’t wear dresses.’
Theo gave an elaborate sigh. ‘I guess you’re right. But it’s not fair. I’d so much rather play with soldiers.’
‘You can come and play later, after you’re done with the dresses. I’ll let you have General Blücher,’ he volunteered, naming his favourite toy soldier.
‘What a handsome offer! I shall take you up on it,’ she said, rising. ‘Now I have to go, before Aunt Amelia comes hunting for me.’
Charles gave her a measuring glance and looked around the room. ‘You could hide under my bed.’
Already a tactician, she thought. ‘No, when duty calls, one must answer. But I’ll remember I have General Blücher to look forward to once I’ve finished.’
She leaned over to plant a kiss on his head, determination renewed. There was nothing she would not do to keep him with her. ‘I’ll save you some lace.’
Chuckling at his grimace of revulsion, she walked back to her room.
Chapter Sixteen
Later that evening in her bedchamber, Theo gazed at her reflection in the glass, while Marston peered over her shoulder, smiling. ‘You look quite a treat, miss, if I do say so myself!’
The figure staring back at her was certainly an improvement, she admitted. Her hair, cut under protest, had been washed and curled and pinned up in a seemingly careless assortment of waves. The gown, in a becoming shade of gold that picked up the shimmer of her brown eyes, was mercifully free of excessive lace and furbelows.
It did, however, feature a form-enhancing silhouette, tiny puffed sleeves, and a bodice cut so low she’d probably contract a congestion of the lungs before the night was out. ‘Are you sure you can’t add a ruffle of lace here?’ she asked, pointing to the low neckline.
‘Heavens, no!’ the maid replied in scandalised tones. ‘Half the girls in London have to pad their corsets to achieve such a full, rounded bosom. You should be proud to display it.’
‘It’s certainly “displayed”,’ Theo muttered. ‘I feel as naked as an army jolly-bag strutting her wares on a Lisbon street.’
At that moment, Aunt Amelia walked in. ‘How lovely!’ she exclaimed. ‘Marston, you’ve outdone yourself!’
