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“She does have him on a leash,” remarked Fanny wryly. “She so besots your brother he cannot see that she is a virago, hoarding all the family’s wealth for herself and their two children. You and your mother have been left out in the cold. It is a crying shame. I am certain your late father never intended things to be this way.”
Marianne blinked back tears. She knew her darling father had assumed Edmund would take care of them financially, but by law, everything had passed to the eldest son, and their house belonged to him.
Her brother let them live there, but he didn’t make their lives comfortable. He could easily have allotted them more income, but he hadn’t. Only last week, they had no choice but to let go of their parlour maid. Now, they only had the cook and one maid to serve the entire household.
“Edmund seems determined to see us live in penury,” said Marianne tightly. “Papa would roll over in his grave if he knew.”
Fanny squeezed her arm. “Well, if you are quite determined to accept Mr Russell when he proposes and that you can accept a marriage of convenience, then I am certain you shall solve your mother’s financial woes and find a measure of happiness in the bargain. He really is a very nice gentleman, as you say … But does it not worry you that he is somewhat older?”
Marianne shrugged. “He is only five-and-thirty, Fanny. Hardly aged.” She hesitated. “But we are jumping ahead. He may not propose, you know.”
Fanny laughed lightly. “Mr Russell is enamoured with you, Marianne. He shall propose if he is given sufficient encouragement. I do not doubt it.”
They had reached the main street of town. A few carriages were parked alongside and a dozen or so people wandering along, peering into shop windows. Acton-on-Rye was a small town, but it was always busy at this time of day. It had several shops which served the outlying villages.
Aunt Petunia stopped suddenly, gazing back at them. “Where are we heading first, girls?”
“Miss Markle’s dressmaking shop, dear aunt,” said Fanny. “Marianne has a fitting for the coming ball. We shall deposit her there, then go the milliners, if that is agreeable to you?”
Aunt Petunia raised her eyebrows. “Lead the way. It makes little difference to me. I am too old to care about fripperies like bonnets any longer, but we need to see you are always smartly attired, niece.”
Marianne and Fanny laughed as they strolled down the street.
Marianne thought about what her best friend had claimed as they walked—that Mr Richard Russell was certain to propose to her and that he was smitten with her. She didn’t know if that were true at all. The gentleman was affable and gracious towards her, but she had never discerned overwhelming admiration … or love. Still, he sought her out constantly, was always calling upon her, and it did seem that he was serious in his regard for her.
He will give me a good life. He will make sure Mama is well provided for. How much more can I expect at my stage of life?
Her heart twisted. She had always hoped that perhaps she might fall in love again one day. But it seemed that it would never happen now. And she simply must accept the way her life had unfurled. For better or for worse.
Chapter 2
Joseph Weston, the new Earl of Bedford, whistled as he walked into town, gazing around with interest. It had been a long time since he had been in Acton-on-Rye – so long that it was as if he saw the town and district surrounding it completely anew.
His heart clenched. There was the old mill. Just beyond it lay rolling green hills dotted with white sheep. He had forgotten how charming this pocket of Somerset was. It looked like a scene out of a painting – an artist’s view of how pastoral English life should be.
He had been living in London for far too long and hadn’t even ventured to the family’s main ancestral country home in Kent for years, never mind this far out of the capital, to the house they owned in this town.
Memories started to assail him of when he had been a younger man, walking this route. Firmly, he pushed them aside. What was the point in picking over the past?
His old friend, Mr Fredrick Knightley, who had agreed to accompany him on this flying visit to Somerset, stopped walking, glancing at him curiously.
“Do you think it has changed much, Bedford?” he asked.
Joseph shrugged. “Not really, but we have not reached the main part of town yet.” He gazed around. “The river Rye is still the same as ever. As is the mill.”
“Agreed,” said Fredrick, smiling. “It is quite charming. I must admit, I had forgotten.” He stared at his friend curiously. “You have not been back … since all that unfortunate business.”
Joseph reddened. His friend was trying to be tactful in not mentioning what had happened here all those years ago. Fredrick knew all about it, of course. But it wasn’t something Joseph wanted to recall. He felt a hot knife of shame. It surprised him that it was still as strong as ever, after all this time.
Where is she now? Did she marry? Does she now have a family? Does she still even live here?
His heart twisted slightly. He could still remember her face as vividly as if he had only seen it yesterday. The last time he had seen her, when she had ignored him utterly, passing by him as if they were strangers to one another.
He didn’t blame her. Not at all. He was well aware that he had broken her heart. How could he not be?
“No, I have never returned,” he said eventually, his heart pounding. “And the only reason I am back now is to dispose of the house here, as you know. You said you might know someone who may purchase it.”
Fredrick nodded. “An old acquaintance. His name is Thomas Dewhurst. He received a large inheritance and is eager to acquire a property portfolio.” He hesitated. “Shall I set up a meeting for the two of you?”
