The Second Mrs Darcy. Elizabeth Aston

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      “We dine at home tonight,” said Theodosia when Octavia went downstairs. From the sound of her voice, she considered this a great condescension. Octavia felt a flash of anger; her sister might at least put on an appearance of welcome. There were no enquiries about the voyage, nor condolences for the loss of her husband. At least her brother-in-law Henry Cartland seemed glad to see her, welcoming her with something like affection, and even venturing a few words of sympathy on her recent loss.

      His wife swiftly put him in his place. “Don’t be absurd, Henry. Octavia had hardly been married five minutes when she lost her husband”—she made it sound as though the loss had been due to some carelessness on Octavia’s part—“she can really have barely known him. Wasn’t he away at sea for most of your married life?” she went on, addressing Octavia.

      “Yes,” said Octavia.

      “It is the most unfortunate thing you didn’t bear him a son,” her sister said in her forthright way. “It is a thousand pities that his heir should be George Warren, you can expect nothing from him, he is an out-and-out Whig and will grudge you a single penny.”

      “Entailed estates make for many problems,” Mr. Cartland said with a sigh.

      “It is a most unfortunate arrangement in this case,” said Theodosia. “Quite unnecessary, in my opinion; what business had Captain Darcy to have an entail?”

      It had never occurred to Octavia, when she accepted Captain Darcy’s hand, to enquire about his fortune or estate. But Mr. Thurloe had done so, and, on the whole, he said, it was quite satisfactory. “He has a good estate in Wiltshire, worth some two or three thousand a year, and then there is his navy pay, although of course these days there are not the opportunities for prize money as there used to be; why, in the war, a mere master and commander could sail away in penury and come back a rich man after a lucky encounter, able to set up his carriage and buy himself a house and land. Of course, those days are behind us, but still, Captain Darcy does not do so badly. However, the estate is entailed, you understand the nature of an entail?” he had added, seeing Octavia’s puzzled look.

      He had explained it to her. Captain Darcy’s estate was entailed upon the male line. He could not leave it to her, nor to anyone else; it would pass, in the absence of an heir of his loins, into the hands of a second cousin. “A man with no very good name, a rakish fellow,” Mr. Thurloe said with a frown. “It is your duty to be brisk about breeding, my dear, because then your own future is secure in the case—well, that is, life at sea is always uncertain, and should anything befall Captain Darcy, if you have a son, you will be provided for, you will be able to live on the estate in comfort during the boy’s minority, and then of course, he will take care of you.”

      “And if I don’t have a son, but only daughters, or no children at all?”

      “Then, my dear, you will have nothing but whatever the captain should leave as his personal fortune. Which is nothing very much; it seems that the fortune his first wife brought with her was unwisely invested. I did hear she was an expensive creature, so maybe that was the truth of it. However, let us be sanguine, he is a healthy man who has no idea of taking risks at sea, and the entail will be soon cut off by the birth of a son, if you do your duty.”

      The marriage had taken place quickly, in light of the captain’s imminent departure. Octavia had hesitated, feeling it might be wiser to postpone the ceremony until Captain Darcy’s return, but Robert Thurloe would have none of it. “A bird in the hand, my dear,” he said bluntly to Harriet, who was inclined to agree with Octavia. “Who knows whom Captain Darcy may not meet on his travels? No, no, they must tie the knot as soon as may be, and then Octavia will be sure of him.”

      “So is it true that his private fortune was practically nothing?” Theodosia said now.

      Her husband attempted to remonstrate with her. “My dear, here is Octavia only just arrived, tired after her long journey; it is hardly the time to ply her with questions of this nature.”

      “Nonsense,” said Theodosia. “There is no point in beating about the bush. We are all family here, we dine alone, and the sooner we know just what Octavia’s circumstances are, the better.”

      “I was left enough to buy some clothes and to pay my passage and a little put by,” Octavia told her sister. “When everything is settled, I shall have an income of about a hundred and fifty pounds a year.”

      “Well, that is something, in any case,” said Mr. Cartland, who would have found it hard to manage on less than his own income of fifteen thousand a year.

      “It is barely enough to live on. I am really annoyed with Captain Darcy for having so little foresight, for making so little provision for her.” And then, to Octavia, “Why did you come back? I should think it was easier to live in India on very little money, surely everything is cheaper there.”

      Her husband made a tsking noise and shook his head at his wife’s ill breeding.

      “I had no particular reason to stay in Calcutta.”

      “No reason? You had every reason; in London you were unable to find a husband, whereas in India you made a perfectly respectable match—except for this tiresome entail, of course.”

      “Mr. Thurloe felt that my best course would be to return to England and approach Mr. Warren, to see if he can be persuaded to give me an annuity, or an allowance. I know he has a reputation of being a close man—”

      “He is simply a man who knows how to take care of his money,” said Theodosia. “Which is more than can be said for your late husband, I might point out. Yes, Warren must be approached, must be made to see that he has to do his duty by you. And meanwhile, we must put our heads together and decide what is to be done with you.”

      Octavia caught Mr. Cartland’s shocked eye, and had to make an effort not to burst out laughing. She knew whose heads were to be brought into service on this matter, and it would not include her own; her views were of no interest to Theodosia, nor would they be to Augusta and Arthur.

      “Naturally, you are our guest here,” Henry Cartland said quickly. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you like.”

      “Be quiet, Henry,” said Theodosia. “Octavia is my sister, this has nothing to do with you.” She looked at Octavia with narrowed eyes. “I will say that you are improved in looks since you went away, despite being burned by the sun. It is an extraordinary thing; for the most part women return from India with any trace of beauty gone.”

      Octavia was startled at this compliment, coming as it did from such an unexpected quarter; she was used to nothing but criticism from her sisters.

      “It is all to the good. One marriage can lead to another, even though you are now past your prime, at four or five and twenty you have lost your bloom—but even so, it may be possible. It will be best for you to stay in London, I think, and we shall see if we can find you another husband.”

      “But I don’t want to marry again!” exclaimed Octavia, furious at the heartlessness of her sister’s words. “It is less than a year since Christopher died, I am in mourning, I have no wish to be looking for another husband.”

      “You can’t pretend any great grief for a man you hardly knew. You did very well to catch him, very well indeed, and it is a great pity that things turned out as they did; whatever did the man have to go plunging into the jungle for?”

      “He was very interested in natural philosophy, СКАЧАТЬ