Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

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      Harriet, a year younger than Emma, had recently become engaged to Frederick Graysmith, lawyer and Member of Parliament. He was likeable enough, but there seemed to be no fire in him. He would be safe but dull as a husband. Emma decided she wanted more than that. She wanted excitement and passion and a little something extra, though she could not define it. All she knew was that she would recognise it when it came. If it came. And if it did not, would she be able to settle for second best? She had a dreadful feeling that her stepfather was about to try to force a match on her and, if Lord Bentwater was anything like Sir George, she knew she would not like him.

      ‘Emma, I had no idea you would be coming tonight,’ Harriet said, her brown eyes bright with excitement. She was dressed in buttercup yellow, which contrasted well with her dark hair.

      ‘It was Sir George’s idea,’ she said. ‘He says there’s someone he wants me to meet and it must be important, for he insisted on buying me a new gown for the occasion.’ She looked round to see her mother deep in conversation with Lady Standon and lowered her voice. ‘We had such a rush to find something in the time available.’

      ‘It is very becoming,’ Harriet said, stepping back to appraise her friend. ‘You mean he is matchmaking?’

      ‘If he is, I cannot think what is behind it. I’m not sure I shall like it.’

      ‘Being married? Oh, surely you do not mean to be an old maid.’

      ‘It would be better than enduring an unhappy marriage, don’t you think? Once the deed is done, there’s no going back on it.’

      ‘I know that. But why should your marriage be unhappy? I set my heart on Freddie from the moment I met him and I know we shall deal well together.’

      ‘Then I wish you happy.’

      ‘Oh, I am sure I will be. The wedding is to be in June. I know it is very soon, but we have to be back from our wedding tour by the time Parliament reconvenes after the summer recess. You will be one of my attendants, won’t you?’

      ‘I shall be delighted, if Mama says I may.’

      ‘I would be even happier if I thought you were suited too. Do take advantage of the dancing. Almost every eligible in town is here. I am sure if you tried you could find someone.’

      Emma laughed. That seemed to be all that mattered: the thrill of the chase, the announcement of the engagement and later the wedding with half the haut monde in attendance. But that was only one year—what about all the years afterwards, the children, the problems of motherhood, the steadily growing older? If the man you had married was the wrong one, it would be purgatory. ‘Oh, I am sure I could, but how would I know he was not after my fortune?’

      ‘Does that matter, if he is in every other way suitable?’

      ‘Tall, you mean.’ It was said with a laugh.

      ‘Yes, but more than that, surely? He must be amiable and considerate and have no bad vices, like womanising and gambling.’

      ‘How right you are, especially about the gambling. I could never marry a man who gambled, however suitable he might otherwise be.’ It was Sir George’s gambling that was the cause of most of her mother’s distress and that had entrenched in her a deep abhorrence of the vice, for vice it was. ‘But do you know of such a paragon?’

      ‘No, except Freddie, of course. But no doubt he has a friend…’

      ‘Don’t you dare!’

      ‘I was only trying to help.’

      ‘I know you were.’ Emma was contrite. ‘I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but I am not going to allow myself to be thrown to the wolves without a fight.’ She wasn’t thinking of Freddie’s friend so much as her stepfather. Just what was his game? He had never shown the slightest interest in her before, except to complain to her mother that she was too lenient with her.

      ‘Why must you fight?’

      ‘Because that’s my nature. Give me a challenge and I will rise to it. Tell me I must do something and I will refuse, tell me I cannot and I will most decidedly attempt it.’

      ‘Then I pity any husband of yours and perhaps I shan’t ask Freddie to introduce you to his friend after all. He would not thank me.’ She paused and nodded towards a young man making his way towards them. ‘Here comes Freddie, so I’ll leave you to enjoy yourself.’

      Emma danced with several young gentlemen, none of whom set her heart racing, but she was honest enough to admit she did nothing to encourage them and they must have found her extremely dull. It was not like her to be so ungracious, but she could not concentrate on her partners when her mind was filled with the prospect of meeting Lord Bentwater. Who was he? What was he like? What was to be done if she took him in aversion? Perhaps, after all, he would be young and attractive and she was worrying for nothing. Or perhaps he would not turn up.

      Her latest partner took her back to where her mother sat, bowed to them both and disappeared. ‘Who was that?’ her mother asked. ‘It was not Lord Bentwater, was it?’

      Emma turned towards her in surprise. ‘Have you not met him?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then what is your husband about? Surely he has confided in you?’

      ‘He wishes to see you settled. As I do, dearest.’ It was said quietly, but Emma knew that her mother was not at all happy about it.

      ‘Am I to have no say in the matter at all?’

      ‘Oh, Emma, please do not be difficult. George tells me the gentleman is in every way suitable…’

      ‘Do you know, Mama, I cannot help wondering what Sir George is expecting to gain by it.’

      If her mother intended to enlighten her, she did not do so because Harriet returned on Freddie’s arm and after he had bowed and left them, they sat chatting about the young men who were present, none of whom matched up to Freddie in Harriet’s eyes. As for Emma, she could not take any of them seriously. They were either dressed in the exaggerated fashion of the tulip, too young, too short or too old. Was Lord Bentwater among them and, if so, which was he?

      ‘Harriet, do you know who that man is, talking to my stepfather?’

      ‘I believe his name is Mr Jeremy Maddox. Don’t tell me he has taken your fancy.’

      ‘Goodness, Harriet, you do not think I have developed a tendre for someone I have only seen at a distance, do you? And he’s a dandy if ever I saw one. I was curious, that’s all. I thought he might be Lord Bentwater.’

      Harriet laughed. ‘Good heavens, no! Why did you think it was him?’

      ‘I didn’t, particularly. My stepfather is set upon introducing me to Lord Bentwater and I am expected to be amiable. I am curious to know what he looks like…’

      ‘Bentwater! Oh, Emma, he does not expect you to marry that old roué, does he? He is fifty if he is a day and has gone through three wives already and not one has managed to produce an heir. I hear he is desperate. You cannot possibly consider him.’

      ‘Then СКАЧАТЬ