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“And Lizzy will come tomorrow.” Mrs Hodge raised an eyebrow. “But she will not stay long if she’s unable to properly direct her naturally flirtatious impulses.”
“Unless they’re directed at Mr Dalgleish? Nevertheless, if he’s not as pleasing to her as hoped, then Lizzy has the opportunity over the next few days to meet a good many other worthy young gentlemen, surely?” Fanny said and was surprised at the vituperative response.
“I hope I have persuaded Lizzy sufficiently of Mr Dalgleish’s merits. He and I have had mutually satisfactory discussions, and I know he will be good for the girl.” After an odd pause, she added, “Why, he’s quite mad about her!”
“Or her money?” Fanny suggested, which caused Mrs Hodge to respond tightly, “Isn’t everything in this world about money, Lady Fenton? I believe you and your sister know that better than most.”
Fanny smiled, not riled in the slightest for she’d married, not only for money, but for love, too.
“We don’t want poor Lizzy to fall prey to a fortune hunter, now do we, Mrs Hodge?” Fanny said with mock severity as she manoeuvred her towards the door.
Mrs Hodge’s colour rose. “Mr Dalgleish is not Theodore McAlister,” she said tightly. “I would hardly promote the match if he were cast in such a mould.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” Fanny agreed, for who did not know the name of the infamous young blade who’d kidnapped Miss Catherine Harcourt, a beautiful heiress en route to her own wedding, the previous year? Every newspaper and gossip sheet in the land had been full of nothing else for the whole month of November. And beyond.
“Well, let us hope that Mr Dalgleish conducts himself properly and that Lizzy’s attachment to him grows,” Fanny said in parting, thinking if Lizzy did not have looks to recommend her, at least the fortune she was to inherit would ensure she could leave the household of the dreadful Mrs Hodge. She almost sympathised with the girl.
But then, wasn’t it up to every young woman to show a modicum of intelligence if she were to be delivered from circumstances not to her liking? Stubbornness and belligerence endeared a dependant to no one, thought Fanny, before remembering her wayward youth when she’d defied her mother at every turn in order to avoid the marriage her own mother had lined up for her with dreadful Lord Slyther.
But Fanny had been beautiful and captivating.
Miss Lizzy Scott sounded none of these things.
Chapter 2
“Course there’ll be far prettier young ladies than yer, miss, but none as comes wiv twenty thousand pounds so ‘ow can yer not be a success?”
Lizzy glanced at her maid whose attention was focused on her knitting in the gently rocking carriage. “Agreeing with me is hardly going to cheer me up, Mabel,” she said as she turned to watch the slowly passing scenery. The very slowly passing scenery. She sighed. The journey to Quamby House would have taken half the time if Lizzy had been allowed to go in Mrs Hodge’s stylish equipage the day before. However, Mrs Hodge’s enigmatic allusion to ‘a matter of some delicacy’ which she’d had to discharge en route had, apparently, precluded the presence of tiresome misses such as Lizzy.
“I know you’re trying, Mabel,” she added as Mabel seemed to be focused only on the bonnet she was knitting for her tenth nephew, “but that is hardly putting a rosy light on matters. Mrs Hodge is selling me off to the highest bidder. I am not about to attend a lovely week of merry-making and Christmas jubilation. I am going to market. Like a pig to slaughter.”
Mabel sniffed and finally looked up. “That ain’t a verra ladylike way o’ phrasin’ things, Miss Lizzy. And yer don’t 'ave to marry 'im—or anyone—if yer don’t want ter. It’s yer choice. But since yer’ve met the feller twice, an’ yer liked 'im well enough, I reckon we ought ter try an’ think cheerily on it.”
“Any feller who offers to hand over two thousand pounds of my inheritance to Mrs Hodge if she succeeds in brokering a match between us is definitely a feller and not a gentleman.” Lizzy smoothed her hands over the fine wool of her new Turkey-red carriage dress, chosen by Mrs Hodge so that her late husband’s ward might make the best impression on arrival, and added, “I might be the daughter of a soldier who made a fortune in trade, but I have been brought up to expect what any young woman of good birth and breeding should expect. I intend to marry a gentleman, not someone who’s done some underhand bartering with that old witch who can’t wait to get me off her hands.”
“But yer promised the ol’ witch,” Mabel said, clapping h
er hand to her mouth and glancing about as if she might have been overheard when they were about as remote in this rural backwater as it was possible to be. Even if he could have heard, old Tom Coachman sitting on the box above them was as deaf as a post.
“I promised her I would consider it.” Lizzy sighed again. “Though the truth is, I probably will marry him if no one else charming and personable presents himself. Granted, Mr Dalgleish is charming and personable. He knows it, too. I just would rather he was a little less avaricious. Ah, Mabel,” she sent her maid her most put-upon look; the one that never failed to drive Mrs Hodge into a rage. “The irony of being an heiress is that I gain nothing from it except a fortune-hunting husband.”
“Yer would if yer were patient, miss.” Mabel, optimistic as always—even if her choice of words sometimes indicated otherwise—returned to her knitting, shrugging as if she already knew the answer that was coming.
“Please stop rubbing salt in the wound, Mabel. I know you’re trying to find something to cheer me, but really, there is nothing. Patience, in my situation, means waiting until I’m twenty-five before I gain access to a single penny of my inheritance unless I marry. That’s nearly six years!”
Even Mabel looked crestfallen at this though the subject had been discussed many times between them. Then she said brightly, “Yer don’t 'ave ter marry Mr Dalgleish. There’s lots o’ nice gennulmen who’d like ter marry yer. Why, Reverend Lilydale—”
“Reverend Lilydale is no different from all the rest. He just wants my fortune.”
“Well, miss, the same could be said o’ any gennulman.” Mabel sent Lizzy a stern look over her knitting. “That’s why yer going ter Quamby House. Yer promised Mrs ’Odge."
“Yes, I know, but I intend only to see if I like him well enough—"
Truncated by a cry of alarm from Mabel, Lizzy’s response was properly halted by a tremendous explosion.
“Lor’ miss, we’ve bin shot at!” screeched Mabel as the carriage, that had been gently swaying, suddenly lurched forward as the horses took fright and bolted.
With another scream from Mabel, Lizzy had the good sense to grip the window frame as she was thrown off balance, and their conveyance careered over the bends and curves of the rutted road for a mad dash before lurching into the wilds.
