The Reluctant Bride

“I see.” It was no more than the truth. He saw very well how matters lay. The girls were to be hounded until one or the other accepted Lord Isham. Well, in the last resort he would refuse to marry an unwilling bride, however wealthy her suitor.

Mrs Rushford saw his set expression and made haste to change the subject. “Have you heard no more of the Marchioness?” she asked. “That is a strange business.”

“Indeed it is. Rumour is rife, but we cannot place any reliance on such gossip. So many months have passed since she was seen that we must pray that no harm has befallen her.”

“It is said that Sywell himself has murdered her,” Mrs Rushford announced with relish.

“A rumour entirely without foundation, Isabel. The Marquis is ill-tempered, and capable of violence, but I cannot believe that he would visit it upon his wife. He doted on her.”

“Then where can she be?”

“No one seems able to answer that question. I attempted to question the Marquis, but I am unwelcome at the Abbey. As you know, I was against this marriage from the start. The union of May and December will never serve, and Louise Hanslope was little more than a child when she took it into her head to marry a man three times her age. It could only lead to disaster.”

“You think it important then, for both parties to be in complete accord?” India asked quietly.

“I do.” The Vicar smiled at her. “Marriage is a difficult state at the best of times. In the first flush of passion most people do not think it so, but it demands self-control, tolerance, and sometimes heavy sacrifice. Such qualities are not common in our society. Best of all, a life partner should also be a friend.”

“It seems idyllic, but almost a fantasy,” she agreed.

“It can happen, my dear. And when it does nothing can be more fulfilling. Well, I must save my sermon until Sunday, but you must come to see me if you feel the need.”

The door had scarcely closed upon him before Isabel Rushford voiced her displeasure.

“Why, I wonder, would your uncle consider that either of you girls might wish to see him privately? Your own mama is the person to advise you.”

“I think he meant only to be kind,” Letty murmured. “After all, it is his calling…”

Mrs Rushford sniffed. Her regular attendance at the Abbey services owed nothing to religion, but she enjoyed her role as the tragic widow, and the opportunity to gossip. Now she turned on India.

“I must hope that you intend to change your gown before his lordship’s visit,” she snapped. “That bombazine is positively dreary.”

“It is the warmest thing I have,” India told her simply. “Mama, the weather is so bitter, and this house is very cold. You will not expect me to freeze to please Lord Isham?”

“Must you defy me at every turn? I know that the black silk with the inset trimming has been turned and dyed, but it is more becoming. You will please wear it.”

Delighted though she was by Isham’s offer, Mrs Rushford viewed his coming visit with some apprehension. Privately she expected him to choose Letty as his bride, in spite of his suggestion that the girls should decide between them. At all costs India must be prevented from seeing him alone. She had given her promise not to cause him to withdraw, but would she be able to keep to it?

She now felt that she must play her highest card. “Think of your brother,” she coaxed. “He is sure to learn of something through Isham. His lordship must have several livings in his gift.”

Even Letty giggled. “Giles as a parson, Mama? He would not hear of it!”

“Hold your tongue, you foolish child! Giles will decide for himself.”

“Most certainly he will!” India gave her sister a speaking glance. The transformation in their mother was extraordinary.

Vanished was yesterday’s shrinking invalid. Mrs Rushford was already relishing her position as mother of the future Lady Isham. Naturally, her influence would be welcomed by her powerful relatives.

“Isham does not strike me as a man who will be easily persuaded,” India murmured.

“Perhaps not at the moment, but a wife is in a privileged position. Then it will be different, mark my words!”

The prospect gave India no comfort. The sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was increasing by the minute as the dreaded interview approached. Now she prayed that his lordship had reconsidered his outrageous proposal. He had had time to sleep on it. Perhaps he had already changed his mind.

She could not rely upon such a happy outcome, and she could do no more than pick at the simple meal of cold meats which awaited them.

“Eat up, my girl!” her mother urged. “A lack of food will cause you to feel faint. Isham must not believe you to be subject to fits of the vapours and you are already much too pale. It is such a pity that we are still in mourning. I wonder if you should change again…perhaps the grey?”

India rebelled at that. “Mama, it cannot matter. What we wear is not of the least importance. Lord Isham met us yesterday, when we wore our plain round morning-gowns. He can be under no illusion as to our looks.”

“Do as I say!” came the furious retort. “Letty must change too. At present you remind me of nothing so much as washerwomen.”

There was nothing more to be said, but when they reached Letty’s room she seized India’s hand and looked at her with anguished eyes.

“India, I beg of you! Do not go through with this! You should not sacrifice yourself for me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” India lied gallantly. “Nothing has been decided yet. You know that I hope to win more time…”

“Pray don’t try to deceive me. I know you too well…You mean to take him, don’t you?”

“I mean to talk to him. As I said, we do not know him. Possibly he is more reasonable than we imagine. I may be able to persuade him to wait, at least until Giles returns.”

“But how will that help us?”

“Giles may have heard of some position which would restore our fortunes…” Privately, India thought this unlikely, but she refused to give up hope. “Meantime, I must see Isham on my own. Mama will not hear of a delay. One of us will be handfasted to that insolent creature before we can blink an eye.”

Letty still looked troubled. She only half believed her sister, but she promised to talk their mama into allowing India a private interview with his lordship.

“But only if you will give me your word…?”

“Letty, I am not the stuff of martyrs. If all else fails I might agree to an engagement. I could break it later.”

“I suppose so.” Letty gave her a watery smile. “I feel so selfish, dearest, to have refused outright.”

“Never that.” India looked at the clock. “Help me now. Isham is sure to be on time…”

She was right. They had not long to wait. As the clock struck four Isham was announced and shown into the parlour.

As he bowed to her mother India stole a critical look at him. He had exchanged his riding garb for more formal garb, but the perfect tailoring of his plain blue coat served only to emphasise his massive, heavily muscled frame. There was nothing of the dandy about him and she guessed correctly that once dressed he gave his attire no further thought.

His manner was correct, his bow perfection, but his presence shattered the genteel atmosphere in the parlour. India had the impression that a strong wind had blown away all the conventions of polite society.

There was no obvious reason for this. An aristocrat to his fingertips, like many big men he moved with ease and grace. To her relief she was spared his penetrating stare on this occasion.

Instead, he engaged her mother in conversation. “I hope I see you much recovered, ma’am,” he murmured. “I was distressed to learn of your indisposition.”

“It was nothing, my lord.” Mrs Rushford waved aside all mention of her previous ailments. “Merely a headache brought on by this bitter weather. Sir, it is a pleasure to welcome you to Abbot’s Quincey.”

Isham bowed again. “You know this part of the country well?”

“I was born here, and so were my girls at…at the Grange.”

“Ah, yes!” Isham betrayed no trace of embarrassment at this mention of his recently acquired property. “I have just come from there. There is much to be done, I fear. Perhaps you will be good enough to advise me?”

India glanced at her sister. His lordship had found a sure way to her mother’s heart. For the next half-hour she was forced to listen to a discussion about the necessary improvements to the Grange, and the merits of the various workmen in the village.

She glanced down at her hands and found that they were trembling. She hid them at once in the folds of her gown but nothing could remedy the leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had summoned all her courage for the coming interview but it was deserting her fast. Now she longed only to get it over with.

It seemed an age before her mother rose and summoned Letty to her side.

“Will you excuse us, sir?” she said. “India would like to speak to you.”

Isham merely bowed and held the door for them. As it closed he turned and leaned against it. For a panic-stricken moment India felt trapped. Once again she was forced to suffer that long, assessing stare.

“So you are to be the sacrificial lamb?” his lordship drawled at last. “What a fate, my dear!”

Chapter Three

It was an unfortunate beginning, but India kept her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet.

“You speak in riddles, sir,” she said. “Won’t you sit down?” Her shaking hands she kept well hidden. It was impossible to think with that large figure looming over her.

Isham sank into a chair. “Demure, Miss Rushford? The role does not suit you. I prefer the termagant who barred my entrance yesterday…”

India longed to tell him that his preference was not of the slightest interest to her, but she refused to be drawn. There was too much at stake. “You wished to speak to me, I believe?”

“Oh, I thought you wished to speak to me.” The lazy eyes roved over her, and she was reminded of Letty’s comment. Now she too felt naked beneath this creature’s gaze. Anger stiffened her resolve. The man was impossible. Well, he should find her a worthy adversary.

“My uncle tells me that you seek a bride,” she said in icy tones. “I understand that you have offered for me.”

“For either of you, Miss Rushford,” he corrected. It was a deliberate insult and India’s rage increased as his mocking voice continued.

“Your sister is the more conventional beauty, of course, though admittedly you have a certain something. In London I remarked it often.”

“In London?” India stared at him. “I think we have not met before…”

“I did not say that we had met. You did not frequent the gaming rooms, but your height alone attracts attention.”

India coloured, which added to her feelings of mortification. She bit her lips upon a hot retort, but he gave her no time to answer him.

“Pray do not feel embarrassed,” the maddening voice continued. “It is not a fault. Often I have observed that tall women have a certain elegance and style which must be the envy of their shorter cousins.”

“You are too kind!” India gritted out. “Have you other views on my appearance, sir? My nose, is perhaps, a little too long, and my mouth too wide?”

He was beside her in an instant. Then, to her horror, a large hand cupped her chin and turned her face to his, “No, no! Don’t underestimate yourself. Those eyes are well enough, and your skin is flawless. As to the hair? Well…not quite in the common way, perhaps…”

India struck his hand away, “I could always wear a wig,” she cried in fury.

“That’s better!” Isham was laughing down at her. “Now you are more yourself. We shall deal well together, my dear, but only if we are honest with each other. I can’t bear missish ways.”

India did not answer him. This interview was not going as she’d planned. He’d teased her into losing her temper and shedding her cool composure.

Now she tried to remember what she had meant to say. “You go too quickly, my lord,” she murmured. “I do not know you.”

“But you know of me, do you not? Now where is the stumbling-block? Is it the gambling, or the opera-dancer?”

It was too much. India rose to her feet and faced him squarely. “Are you trying to be offensive, sir? If so, I must wonder why you are here.”

“I’m here to offer for you,” he grinned. “Will you take me, ma’am? I promise to forget the opera-dancer.”

His tone had changed, but India would not be mollified. Even so, she chose her next words carefully.

“My uncle mentioned certain arrangements, sir. May I hear them from your own lips?”

Isham’s expression hardened. “If you will have it then, here is what I propose.” In a cool tone he listed details of the marriage settlement. “Is that satisfactory?”

“Perfectly, I thank you. And your own requirements?” India was aware that her apparently mercenary attitude had angered him, but she did not care. He himself had proposed this contract. In effect, he was buying her as a man might buy a slave in some Eastern market. She would not pretend that anything other than this settlement would persuade her to accept him.

“I need an heir.” His bluntness now matched her own. “I must also have a hostess, as I intend to enter politics. My wife must be able to receive the highest in the land and entertain them royally.”

India felt a little flicker of interest. “Shall you go with the Whigs or the Tories?”

“With the Whigs. I take it you have no objections?”

“Not in the least.” Secretly India was pleased. The policies of the Whigs were much more to her taste.

“Then we are agreed?” Isham held out his hand.

“Not yet, my lord. I need more time to consider your proposal…”

“Nonsense!” he said roughly. “Had you not made up your mind you would not be here. Pray spare me these attempts at maidenly convention.”

India hesitated.

“Come!” he continued. “You make your decision now, ma’am, or my offer does not stand.”

“But where is the need for haste?”

“I have my reasons. I do not propose to burden you with them at this present time.”

“Then perhaps an engagement…?”

“Which you would seek to break at the earliest opportunity? No, my dear, you must give me credit for some intelligence. If you accept we shall be wed by Christmas.”

“So soon? It is but weeks away…”

He smiled at her discomfiture and it infuriated her further. She had suspected him of being ruthless. Now she was sure of it. She was in no position to refuse him and well he knew it. He must have guessed at the pressure which had been brought to bear on her. Now he had added to it with his threat to withdraw.

“Let us understand each other,” he said at last. “I shall keep to the terms of our agreement if you will keep to yours. Your feelings towards me need not signify…”

India glared at him and he laughed.

“Will you deny that you detest me, ma’am? I should not believe you. If looks could kill I should now be lying at your feet.”

India was reduced to silence. She had never met a stranger character. What other man would offer to wed a woman who disliked him? She should have refused him there and then, but something held her back, and it was not only the thought of material advantage. With this man her life would most certainly not be dull, and what was the alternative? Letty would marry and she herself would wither on the vine, reduced to caring for a petulant invalid who gave her neither thanks nor affection.

Suddenly she held out her hand, rather to her own surprise. “We have a bargain, sir.”

Isham took her hand and kissed it, and as he did so she felt an odd little frisson of excitement. Those warm lips seemed to burn her skin and she drew back quickly.

“Shall we tell Mama?” she asked.

As she had expected, Mrs Rushford was overcome with joy. She would have embraced Lord Isham, but to India’s amusement he managed to avoid this fate.

Her sister was her main concern. Letty looked stricken to the heart.

India made as if to go to her, but Isham forestalled her, taking her sister to one side. It was to be some months before India discovered what was said on that occasion, but whatever it was removed the troubled look from Letty’s brow.

Oh, he was clever, India thought bitterly. He knew exactly what to say to ingratiate himself with every member of her family.

Later she tried to question Letty, but for once her sister was reticent.

“You have not even reproached me,” India murmured in surprise. “I thought you were against this match.”

“I was.” Letty’s look was positively smug. “But you know best…”

India could not help but wonder. Had Isham promised to help Giles, or Oliver? She would not put it past him to rally support in every way he knew. She tried to question the uncommunicative Letty further, but without success.

From then on she found herself with little time to think. Preparations for the wedding came upon her thick and fast. Isham would not hear of a delay, in spite of Mrs Rushford’s half-hearted protests that it was already late November.

In spite of her dislike of Isham, India could only admire the way in which he handled her mother’s objections. She noted wryly that he stifled possible argument before it could begin. Mrs Rushford was given no opportunity to insist upon her grandiose plans for an elaborate ceremony.

“I would not place such a strain upon you, ma’am,” Isham murmured smoothly. “Your health must be our first consideration…”

India almost giggled. For once her mother’s hypochondria had been cleverly used against her.

His lordship was not finished. “Time is short, as you have pointed out. I should not have ventured such a brief engagement except that of necessity you will wish to observe the proprieties…”

Isabel Rushford stared at him.

“I see that you agree with me,” he continued. “Owing to your recent loss we cannot celebrate in the style we might have wished. Otherwise the marriage might have taken place in London. As matters stand a simple ceremony would be best.”

It was a statement of intent, rather than a question, and India could not forbear to smile. It was what he had intended from the first, she suspected, but he had advanced upon her mother in good order, reminding her of the need for decorum, but sweetening the pill with apparent consideration for her health.

She caught his eye and surprised a wicked twinkle. Then he turned back to her mama.

“Ma’am, you will have so much to do, and I am sorry for it, but when the announcement appears in the Morning Post you may expect a flood of letters…” He sighed. “It is always the way upon these occasions, I fear.”

This happy prospect succeeded in lessening Mrs Rushford’s disappointment. Smiling fondly upon her future son-in-law, she left the betrothed couple to themselves.

Isham grinned at his bride-to-be. “Well?” he said. “How was that? I take it you have no wish for some fantastic circus?”

“Would it make a difference if I had?” India was very much upon her dignity. She regretted that he had seen her smiling at his machinations.

“Not in the least, you prickly creature! Even so, I imagine that you will wish for bride-clothes and a trousseau?”

For an awful moment India thought that he was about to offer her money. That would be the last straw. Already she felt like some commodity in the marketplace.

His lazy gaze rested upon her face. “No matter,” he announced. “We shall be a law unto ourselves. In this case the bride shall have her trousseau after we are wed.”

“It will be unnecessary, sir. You have pointed out yourself that I am still in mourning.”

It was a brutal reminder of his part in her father’s death, and Isham’s expression changed. “As you wish,” he said shortly. “Though the convention does not apply to a bride.”

India made no reply. She thought she saw a look of impatience in his eyes, but he changed the subject.

“I leave for London in the morning,” he announced. “I shall be away for several days. Have you any commissions for me?”

“None, my lord, though I wish you a safe journey.”

“Thank you, my dear.” His tone was ironic. “For that, at least, I must be grateful. India, may we not drop some of the formality? My name is Anthony.”

“Very well, my lord…I mean, Anthony…When do you return?”

“You will be spared my company until Thursday of next week. I have other matters to attend…”

India guessed that these important matters most probably concerned a visit to the opera-dancer, but she thrust the thought aside. It was no concern of hers.

“I hope to return with my half-brother, Henry,” Isham continued. “He will wish to support me at the ceremony.”

It was an unpleasant reminder of the course to which she had committed herself, but now that the decision had been made India was resolved to play her part.

“I look forward to meeting him,” she murmured politely. She was beginning to feel ashamed of her curt manner. Isham had done his best to treat her with civility in spite of her rudeness. On an impulse she held out her hand, but his lordship did not take it. There was something in his expression as he looked at her which she did not understand. For once his manner appeared abstracted.

“Tell me,” he said at last. “Do you go abroad much in the evenings?”

India stared at him. It was the oddest question.

“No, we do not,” she replied tartly. Isham must know that Mrs Rushford was not in a position to keep horses or a carriage.

“I believe that on occasion you have the use of Sir James’s carriage?” he persisted. “May I beg you not to use it after dusk?”

India stiffened. She was not yet Lord Isham’s wife. Why should he think it proper to dictate to her? She would go out as she wished.

He saw her look, smiled, and shook his head, but then his face grew grave. “There is good reason for my warning, India. You have not heard of the unrest?”

“No,” she answered in surprise. “What is that, my lord?”

“There is disaffection in this area, and it is growing. Certain men are banding together in large groups. They roam abroad at night, smashing machinery and burning factories.”

“But why? Who are they?”

“They are mostly labourers from the framework knitting industry.”

“But why destroy their means of livelihood?”

“That livelihood is almost non-existent now, I fear. The war with France has reduced demand for their stockings and export of Midlands cotton goods has fallen by a third. The harvest has been poor this year and food prices are extremely high. On reduced wages they cannot afford to eat. Half the local population is on public relief.”

“Then one can hardly blame them,” India cried.

“Their despair is understandable, my dear, but their actions cannot be condoned. The mood is ugly, they are heavily armed with muskets, pistols and hatchets. And there has been at least one death.”

India gasped. “We have heard nothing of this,” she said slowly. “But Anthony, they could have no reason to attack a private carriage. We ourselves do not go out at night, but both our uncles come to visit us.”

If Isham was pleased that she had used his given name of her own accord he gave no sign of it.

“I have no wish to frighten you,” he told her gently. “Yet a mob is sometimes carried away with a strange energy of its own. It needs only a core of hotheads; even a few will serve to whip the others to a frenzy. Then the original reasons for their actions are forgotten. Anyone may become a target.”

She shuddered, but he took her hand and pressed it. “You will be safe indoors,” he comforted. “And to date they have not ventured forth in daylight.”

Once again he raised her fingers to his lips. And this time she did not draw away until he took a step towards her. India stood very still. Pray heaven he would not try to embrace her. He was a stranger still. She would need more time to grow accustomed to this man who had come so unexpectedly into her quiet life. Yet again his curious antennae warned him of her feelings. He merely bowed and released her hand.