The Reluctant Bride

“You understand how difficult it has been since Catherine’s passing. It hurts my pride to admit this, but I miss being a kept man. At least when your beloved Althea passed your children were grown”, says Lord Reginald. 

“Reginald, my friend, do not forget, my youngest is the same age as your Alfred. And she has no older sisters to mentor her into womanhood”, retorts Lord Cornelius. 

“Yes, yes, of course you are right. A beautiful creature she is too, although she always seems to be scampering about and getting underfoot. It is very forward thinking of you to raise her here yourself. Sending her to your sister’s, Lady Evelyn’s estate, would have been the route I would have taken.”

“Edith has been an enormous help. Heaven knows she is more frightening than any governess.” A hearty laugh erupts from the men at the expense of Cornelius’ formidable spinster sister. “But the estate is not what it once was. Maintenance is quite costly these days and truth be told, the mishap with my investments has forced my hand. If my luck does not change, I will have to sell before the end of the year…” Cornelius trails off, staring into the fire. He clears his throat and swirls with the glass in his hand. Speaking of the state of his finances? Really! Perhaps he has imbibed a bit too much port. 

“Cornelius, is it really as bad as that?” He searches the profile of his friend since boyhood. 

“I am afraid so. I will sell this place before it is in complete disrepair and find a quaint but suitable home in the city. I only worry about the debut of poor little Julia. How unfortunate the timing of all this. She will be barred from the highest social circles of society.” 

Both men are quiet for several minutes, as they stare fixedly into the fire. Lord Reginald swirls the fine port in his hand, sipping it pensively. Inhaling deeply, he turns his gaze back to his closest friend. “Cornelius, I have an idea. Do hear me in entirety before reacting, I pray you. It is the only solution that is amenable to both our situations.” He takes another sip from his glass to fortify him. “ I will assist you in taking care of this great estate, and in a few years I will have another fine wife.”

Julia is positively frigid at this point from her position on the stone floor in the hidden passageway. “Let’s get out of here”, she says to her best friend. Really, what was the point of having these hidey holes around the estate if there was nothing interesting to listen in on? Father and Uncle Reginald proceed to talk at length about their troubles but they are no longer listening. 

They backtrack out of the passageway, which gives to the billiard room. “That was a bore”, says Alfred. “I thought they were going to talk about something intriguing.” They say their goodbyes and Alfred departs for his home next door before anyone realizes he is gone. How lucky he is, to have brothers and sisters to chase about and play sardines with. 

******

As the years pass Julia learns there are some serious encumbrances to womanhood. Wearing a corset? An absolute horror. Memorizing poetry? Not her favorite. Needlepoint? What a complete waste of time! But she does enjoy painting landscapes, playing the piano, and learning languages. And dancing, dancing is absolutely divine. 

Her debut, her presentation to society, is an enthralling experience. An all white gown, cut from the finest silk with a textured layer of chiffon, tastefully displays her decolletage and elegant neck. A velvet sash accentuates her narrow waist, tied in the back and descending into a small train. Waiting with eyes averted, Julia is chaperoned by Aunt Edith and will not decline any man that is kindly enough to ask her for her first dance. Polished black shoes appear before her. “My lady?”, a familiar voice asks. He is Adorned in black coattails and a white tie, his shining eyes and brilliant smile are the only features Julia sees. How gracious of him, knowing how wracked with nerves she is. His hand, snug and secure in hers, warms her heart and settles her mind.     

Julia, now officially “out” in society, endures a steady stream of callers to the house. What is the rush in getting married? Leave Father’s house, commence her marital duties? No, thank you. Besides, meeting new people and going on strolls can be great fun, even if she is still accompanied by Aunt Edith. 

What a delight it is to hold the card in your hand, read the name, some familiar, some not, and anticipate the pleasure of company. Not four months since first receiving callers, a particular calling card is left with Elrod, their butler. The card reads Lord Reginald Wentworth. Stunned into silence she finally says, “Elrod, surely I am not the intended recipient of this card.” He responds with an averted glance and a slight bow. 

The estate garden gives into the woods, lined with trails from her childhood adventures with the Wentworth children. Memories, lovely and pure from those days, envelop her during her strolls here, but today is different. Ambling beside her old uncle, with Aunt Edith trailing ten paces behind, dread clutches at her insides and ascends to her throat. The warblers regale them with their song but it does not ease the tension among the trio. Why won’t he just come out with it? Is it Father? Is he sick? What is the meaning of all this? 

Finally Uncle Reginald commences with a preamble. Her pounding heart hinders her full attention. Mention of his late wife, loneliness, longing? She is perishing with embarrassment. What does this have to do with her? 

He abruptly stops to face her. “Do you understand what I am telling you, my lady? I would like you to be my wife.” The breath escapes her body and time stands still. Even the warblers have abandoned their song. The rustling of leaves from behind startles Julia from her stupor. Aunt Edith sways, eyes wild with an emotion that confuses her. Surprise? Anger? 

“Unc—Lord Reginald”, she stammers. 

“I have shocked you, have I not? Do not say another word my dear. Think well on it and I will call upon you again.” 

How will I ever bear to look at him again? Wait until Father hears about this! He will feel positively betrayed that Uncle Reginald would ask for my hand in marriage. Imagine! A man as old as my father who has known me since birth. 

Struggling to maintain a semblance of composure, Julia finds her father in his study. Wringing her handkerchief and pacing in front of the fire, she debates how to begin. 

“Something awful has happened, Father”. There is a quiver in her voice. “I fear that it will ruin everything. Please, try to keep calm when I tell you.” Her eyes dart to his untroubled face. “Uncle Reginald called upon me today and asked for my hand in marriage”, she says in a flurry of words. 

Her father merely blinks at her, he must be confounded. “Did you hear me Father? I said–”

“I heard you, Julia”, he says evenly. His eyes unwaveringly meet hers. “There is no need to be frightened, Lord Reginald will take good care of you.”

She stiffens as the four walls close in around her. Is he implying that he knew? And furthermore, that he approved of the union? A storm of emotions passes over her face. 

“I thought it best that you appreciate your debut and a bit of courting before your engagement. Lord Reginald is anxious to have more children and has already gone several years without a wife”, he says looking away. “The wedding will be in September. His Lordship will leave you to do all the planning”, he adds hastily. 

“Father…”, she pleads. All other words have escaped her. 

“Lord Reginald did the noble deed of asking you, but the truth is, it has already been decided. He has assured me that he will treat you well and you will want for nothing.”

Her despair is discernible but she says no more. What would be the point? The two most prominent men in her life have made a decision about her future, and her opinion on the matter is inconsequential. Closing the door quietly behind her, she goes to her room to think. 

******

I spend a great deal of time seething those first few days. Father pretends not to notice and I pretend he is not a depraved old canker. The pieces of the puzzle come together. Father’s subservience to Uncle Reginald over the years, the impetuosity of my feminine education, and the hastening of my debut, all in response to the debt owed. Really, the transaction was no different than haggling for a mare. 

September arrives too soon. My handmaiden synches my corset and laces me into the gown that six months ago I wore to my debut. I stare at my reflection as she pins my hair up. I love this gown, it’s a shame the events of the day will mar it.

Father sits across from me on the carriage ride to the church. His eyes watch as I bite my lip and stare vacantly out the window. He pats my knee, to reassure himself, or me, I do not know. Not a word is uttered between us, but the air is heavy with what is unspoken.

We walk down the aisle through a sea of appraising eyes. I stare directly in front of me at the middle-aged man that awaits. Perspiration beads his forehead and he pulls at his tie. My breath catches and I tighten my grip on Father’s arm. A few steps more and he drops to his knees, clutching his chest. My scream echoes across the parish and the congregation turns in unison to follow my gaze. A face the color of turnips looks back at me and his body thumps to the floor. 

I gasp and my knees give out but someone has grabbed me round the waist. Father has vanished and the sea threatens to inundate me. I am steered away from the assemblage into a carriage, vaguely aware of the scent of Aunt Edith’s perfume. 

******

When I come round I find myself at the Wentworth estate, propped up on a settee in the sitting room. Alfred is by my side, his eyes dark with worry. He appears older than his sixteen years. We embrace and I collapse into the comfort of his arms, his warm breath caressing my ear. Aunt Edith clears her throat and we hurriedly part. 

“I walked as slowly as I could”, I say, my hand in his. “I was nearly at the front when he collapsed. I thought I would have to marry him in front of God and the whole world.”

“He scarcely touched his dinner last night. He must have had a case of nerves”, explains Alfred, stroking my hand. “I dosed the decanter in his study this morning, and I think that did the trick. It was half empty when I disposed of it.”

Aunt Edith pulls a flask from her reticule. “I slipped him a few swallows from this. I wanted to make certain. You were either going to be a reluctant bride or an exultant widow”, she says vehemently. Her eyes hold mine, Aunt Edith’s rendition of an embrace. 

“Do you think they will suspect…?”

“Absolutely not”, resolves Aunt Edith. “He was an old man who suffered an infarction at the sight of his beautiful bride. A clear case of a natural death.” 

“But what shall we do about Father?”, I ask tentatively. 

“I have it on good authority his allowance has just been suspended”, Alfred says with a smirk. “Champagne anyone? I have just come into some money and I am in festive spirits.”