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John laughed softly, fully knowing his friend’s lack of interest in that venue.
Indeed, Daniel grimaced.
“Lord preserve me from sanctimonious old maids and their oh so proper nieces!”
“Then here is what I would suggest — that we assemble a list of the characteristics of the woman you would find to be the perfect candidate for Duchess, when the time comes. Then keep that list in mind whenever you meet a woman. At any time that a woman fails to meet even one of the requirements, move on to the next woman.”
“A capital idea!” Daniel declared. “John, fetch another piece of paper.”
Together the two men created a list of ideal characteristics for a mate, each using his own experience with the fairer sex. For Daniel it was his mother. For John it was his deceased wife.
The completed list read, “A gentlewoman. Schooled in music and the arts. Wise. Patient. Understanding. Modest, kind, undemanding and pure. Good with children. Able to make a fire, ride a horse and milk a cow.”
Daniel took the paper, folded it, and inserted it into his coat pocket.
“Confound it, man!” he said. “I now have the list — but how do I find sufficient candidates to interview?”
Daniel rose and began to pace about the room.
“Well,” John replied, “you could travel easily enough to Bath or Brighton for a holiday. There are ladies there aplenty. You know that I, and my eldest son Henry, will manage things here well enough with you gone. He’s a bright lad and will be ready to take over from me when I need to sit by the fire.”
Daniel stopped pacing and paused to look thoughtfully at his employee and friend.
“I have no doubt of that,” he said absent-mindedly. “And I think that you may have something there about finding candidates. I shall indeed make a plan, take a journey, and find myself a wife.” Smoothing his clothes, Daniel turned to John. “Thank you, John. Now I must leave, for I’ve my future to attend to!”
With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
John Hanson laughed quietly, knowing full well that when Daniel met the right woman, everything on the list would be instantly forgotten.
*****
As discussed with John Hanson, Daniel had made all of the necessary arrangements to travel to Brighton for a seaside holiday, leaving in mid-February, once Christmas and the depths of winter were over, and remaining there for twelve weeks, giving him ample time to strategically attend social events and make the acquaintance of the quality candidates he required. That would carry him nicely through to May, and would be far better than spending those months in London. He had already met so many of the women who were likely to be attending events during the Season in London – surely, there would be a different coterie to be found in Brighton?
This plan was not acceptable to his father, however, and had just, not an hour ago, caused another quarrel…
“Absolutely not Daniel!” his father had said. “You will not escape the London Season by running off to the seaside. Only the leftover young ladies who have not been taken in prior Seasons will be there now! You must go to the Christmas Ball at Landly’s next Saturday! It will be the last decent event for some time, and your best chance to see a new crop of young ladies”
The old Duke’s face had turned red, and his movements had become abrupt to emphasise his displeasure. It was only a matter of time, Daniel had thought, until he began coughing again.
“Father you know how I hate those Balls!” Daniel had replied. “Those simpering young ladies who present themselves with heaving chests and tittering laughs are abhorrent to me. I need to love someone to consider a lifetime commitment and the raising of children!”
“Daniel, love is a noteworthy thing, but it is not necessary for the begetting of an heir.” At this point he had raised himself up on an elbow and stared his son directly in the eye. “You will find yourself a wife before the coming Season ends or I’ll find one for you!”
With that there had ensued a coughing fit which once again required Daniel to summon the nurse. Once she arrived in the room, Daniel left her to do her work, bowing to his father as he stepped out of the room. It was not an admission that he would follow his father’s directive, but he suspected that his father would take it as such.
Now, he settled in the library, attempting to let his annoyance go. It was raining – a dreary December day – and he could not ride off his frustration. An hour passed, and he set the book aside, intending to ring for some tea, when there came a heavy knock on the library door.
“Enter.”
The door opened to reveal Wilson, the butler, looking far more agitated than Daniel had ever seen him.
“My Lord…”
Daniel had never known Wilson to be lost for words, and a deep chill settled into his bones – what was wrong?
“Yes Wilson – what is it?”
“It’s… it’s your father, my Lord. He’s gone. The coughing didn’t stop, and then there was something like an apoplexy, and then… You had best come upstairs, my Lord, for we will need your direction in the matter of what to do now.”
