Wish List Part 17

"Will I?" she asked, looking at Perry and then at them all.

"Of course you will, Clarissa; don't be absurd," Albert said. "You must stop this nonsense about not wanting to be married to an Englishman. You are as English as anyone. Whom else would you marry?"

"An Irishman," she answered, her ever-ready answer.

"An Irishman? When all the owners of land and t.i.tle in Ireland are English?" Albert said gruffly. "Think logically, Clarissa, and be reasonable. You are here for your season. You will attract many admirers and from them you must choose your husband. It is all quite simple."

Yes, it was all quite simple. And there was no avoiding it. Albert, as head of the family, would always have his way in all things.

The carriage was waiting and they went in, Lindley, Perry, and Jane accompanying her on her first of many parties in London. It was a mild night and all that was needed was her shawl, which was somewhat unfortunate, as she would have liked to burrow her face into the folds of a cloak and have a private sulk. Unfortunately, all within the carriage could read her mood well enough.

"Albert is quite right, you know. There is no point in pining for Ireland when we hold all the land worth having," Lindley said.

"Explain the justice of that to me, Lindley, for how that should be so escapes me," Clarissa said.

"I can't change what is in order to suit you, Clarissa."

Lindley said stiffly. "You know the truth of the situation. You also know that there is no one in Ireland of sufficient station to marry."

"You will find someone, Clarissa," Perry said, taking hold of her hand. "You will be the girl of the season and will have your pick."

"Yes, my pick of Englishmen," she grumbled, squeezing his hand in grat.i.tude before she released him.

"Who holds the land in Ireland, girl? How do you think to regain Ireland if you dismiss the means to grab hold?" Lindley said.

She bit back a reply, forcing herself to consider. Lindley was surly and stubborn half the time, but he had made a valid point. It was beyond question, no matter how unpleasant the prospect, that she would marry an Englishman. Perhaps an Englishman could be found who had an Irish estate. He would, of necessity, remain in England most of the year, while she could live out her life in Ireland. He could come to visit. Or he could not. She would not demand his presence if only she could reside in Ireland again.

Ireland was home.

England, with her destructive policies and disregard for Irish ways, with her planting of British troops on Ireland's soil, was the enemy. And all England's men were English: arrogant and cold, proud and cruel. She understood them well by the soldiers sent to subdue the Irish. Albert was correct: she was English by birth, but her blood and her heart belonged to Ireland. What English husband would understand that?

"Stop scowling, Clarissa," Lindley admonished. "We have arrived."

It was true. The carriage slowed to a stop and the door was opened by a footman. Lindley exited first, followed by Perry, who then turned to offer a hand to Clarissa. She hesitated, against her better judgment. She had few options. In truth, she had none. It was time to marry, and the only dignity left to her was to put a good face upon it and not disgrace herself or her family.

"'Tis not so bad, Clarissa, to come out into society. I would be much surprised if you did not enjoy yourself completely," Jane said by way of encouragement.

"I cannot disagree if it were only b.a.l.l.s and parties and concerts to be enjoyed, but the goal of all the entertainment is to acquire a husband for myself."

"You will have your choice, my dear. None shall force a decision upon you," Jane said softly, taking her hand.

"You are correct in that, and I take what comfort I can in it," Clarissa said. She had to marry, but her brothers knew well enough that she would do her own choosing. "Perhaps 'twill not be so vexing if I can but remember that I do have a choice."

"Clarissa," Lindley called, clearly impatient. A choice she surely had, but Lindley was eager for her to make it.

Without another word to either bolster her courage or delay the inevitable, Clarissa stepped down from the carriage and walked up the steps into the brick town house on Grosvenor Street. Host and house had been amply prepared for a small gathering of twenty-five or so, all friends to greater or lesser degree of the host. Jane was an old friend of their hostess, Lady Morland, and it was to her good grace that Clarissa owed her invitation.

Good breeding required that she be polite anyway.

Lindley and Perry disappeared readily enough after being greeted by Lord and Lady Morland, leaving Clarissa and Jane and Lady Morlanda"or f.a.n.n.y, as Jane called hera"in an intimate conversation of three, two of whom were happily engaged in conversation, one of whom was pretending to be.

"A lovely gathering," Jane said to f.a.n.n.y. "The candlelight looks so well against these walls. When did you repaint?"

"In the autumn," f.a.n.n.y replied. "I found myself dismally bored with the green and chose this tawny gold instead, just for the warmth and light it seemed to offer."

"It is wonderful. Very daring," Jane said.

"I suppose I should confess, or perhaps it is obvious, that I chose the color after a month of cold rain and heavy cloud. I was yearning for the gleam of sunlight, I daresay."

"What nature will not provide, man must supply." Jane smiled. "Don't you think it a lovely color, Clarissa?"

"Yes, it is lovely. Soa warm," Clarissa said. She did not care about the color of the walls.

The room was full of pleasant-looking people, fully half of them men, and perhaps six of them under thirty, excluding Perry and Lindley. Was she to choose from this random collection? And if so, how was she to go about making her choice? Age was one factor to be considered. She did not want a husband more than twice her age; the tendency would be for him to be rather fatherly, and she did not yearn for that characteristic in a husband.

"And how is your mother, f.a.n.n.y? Has her cough abated? I have been most concerned about her."

"That is very kind of you, Jane. No, she is still weak and abed much of the day. I think a walk in the gardens would do much to clear her lungs, but the weather is so damp yet that it is not to be."

"Perhaps the weather will clear by Christmas," Jane said.

"Perhaps. In the interim, Dr. Spenser has prescribed a soothing tonic that has the added benefit of aiding her sleep. I think all will be well in time."

"Clarissa, what was it you drank when you suffered last winter from that sharp cough?"

"It was chamomile added to my tea that brought me some relief," Clarissa said quietly, forcing her eyes away from the corners of the room and the men who loitered there. It would not do to appear too forward; naturally all knew that she was looking for a husband, but to be blatant in her search would not put her in a good light. It would be a very tedious search if she had to practice such discretion week after week. She did hope to have the whole thing settled by the new year.

Across the room, loitering in a dimly lit corner, Lindley was aiding her in her search, though she could not know it.

"Did I not tell you? Such beauty you will rarely find," Lindley said softly.

"It is rare as well to find such eagerness on the part of a brother to rid himself of a sister," Beau answered.

"I do not rid myself of her, but rather encourage you to become a part of my family. I do not do so lightly," Lindley said stiffly.

Beau, known to most as Henry Wakefield, Lord of Montwyn, laughed and said, "Still more starch than sense, Walingford. I was jesting. She is a fine-looking woman, as you said."

And she was. Hair of bright auburn, skin pale and smooth as milk, eyes the dark brown of rich chocolate; she was a beauty. Shapely and of a good height, not as pet.i.te as the current fashion, but then, he had no desire for a small wife, fearing that carrying his babe and delivering herself of it might kill her. Too many women died so. He was a large-knit man and he wanted a wife he wouldn't dwarf.

"She is just come out, so the field may well be yours. If you do not hesitate," Lindley said.

"You are eager, aren't you?" Beau chuckled. "Well, the season is early and I do not fear a more protracted interlude before the rigors of matrimony. Do not mistake me," Beau said into Lindley's frown. "I am interested, particularly if her manner matches her look, for she does please the eye, and, of course, her family is impeccable." He smiled. "I will look and I will woo, if the mood strikes."

"Does one require a certain mood to obtain a wife?"

"No, but the mood for haste is certainly not upon me. I need a wife. Why not the sister of a friend? Yet there is time to enjoy the season and to undertake my introduction to your sister slowly."

"You are not the only man in London this season," Lindley said grimly.

"Nor is she the only woman. Come." Beau laughed lightly. "Let us not come to blows over this. I am taken with her. You spoke truly when you described her to me. Let it proceed as it will. By all that I can see, I will offer for her. But I will not be rushed to the altar, no matter how eager or fetching the maid."

Lindley kept his tongue firmly between his teeth so that Beau would not so soon know that Clarissa was anything but eager.

Jane was battling that knowledge at that precise moment.

"He is a rather handsome gentleman," Jane said softly into her gla.s.s, her observation for Clarissa's ears only. "A friend of Lindley's, by the look of it."

Clarissa had taken note of him. How could she not? He was a man of above average height, dark of hair, with a fine brow and a well-shaped mouth. His dress was of the highest quality and cut, his hair well-groomed, and his cravat impeccable. It was equally obvious that he knew he cut a fine figure. His pride affected her mood like cold water on a frigid day; there was no warmth in her toward him, as she could detect no warmth in him. He called from her, for all his masculine appeal, only the chill of winter. Though it was difficult to keep her eyes from him.

"He has a loose b.u.t.ton. I cannot abide a slovenly man," Clarissa said, turning her face away from the sight of him.

"A loose b.u.t.ton?" Jane was incredulous. "At this distance? And surely, if so, his valet is to be blamed and not the man himself."

"You are of a generous nature, Jane, a trait I find most welcome, most comforting, but in this instance, when I must choose a husband, I must be exacting in my standards. I will not wed a slattern."

"Surely a wife would be of a.s.sistance to him. If a slattern he isa"and I do not say so, for I think he is a most fine-looking gentlemana"then a wife's gentle counsel would cure such an ill. He but wants feminine care."

Clarissa looked over her shoulder at the man. With his looks, she was quite sure that feminine attention was not something he lacked. He was a mosta rigorous-looking man.

"He looks very English," Clarissa said instead.

Jane smiled and arranged her shawl over her shoulders. "As do we all, I would say. It will be a fault most difficult to cure."

"Impossible, you mean to say," Clarissa said. "Would that there were a single Irishman in the room. I would happily give myself into his keeping."

"And into his small cottage?" Jane said. "You know Lindley spoke only the truth. Who among the native Irish owns a fine Irish estate? To have the life to which you have been born, you must marry a man as English as yourself."

Clarissa tried not to bristle at the insult, for she saw it as nothing less. Jane meant well and, as far as she was able, spoke the truth.

"I do understand your fascination with the Irish," Jane continued, looking down at her hands, "for during my own come-out, I developed a fondness for an Irishman who spoke tenderly and beautifully to me. I would have married him and even believe he would have asked, if not for my father's blunt refusal to have any part of him. So you must see, I share your frustration in being urged to marry against one's heart. But cannot the heart learn to follow where the mind has led?"

Perhaps. Perhaps the mind could lead the heart. She had a good mind; it should not be terribly difficult to command her heart to follow where reason led. Yet Jane had never married, never followed her own counsel. And perhaps she was warning Clarissa against making the same choice. Was the life of a companion to a distant relation really the life she sought for herself? It was clear Jane did not want it for her.

Clarissa looked at Jane with eyes full of grat.i.tude at baring her soul in a heartfelt attempt to keep Clarissa from making the same misstep that she had made long years ago. The attempt had succeeded. She would rather marry than remain a spinster, even if that meant marrying an Englishman. Her head would rule her heart; she would become the buyer in this game of matrimony and find herself the husband who best suited her, Englishman though he be.

But certainly in all of London she could find a man who owned property in Ireland.

"Any progress?" Dalton asked.

Beau greeted Dalton with a grunt and a half bow of recognition.

"I thought to find you well engaged, with perhaps half a dozen women simpering at your elbows by this hour. What have you been up to, to be standing here alone?" Dalton persisted.

"Alone? I am hardly alone. I have my thoughts, my speculations, my plans to abide with me," Beau answered.

"Better than a wife, I daresay. Smart man. Keep marriage as a speculation and all will be well."

"Can't," Beau said. "Must get myself an heir. Family duty requires it."

"Not such an onerous duty, when it comes to that." Dalton grinned. "Have you found any takers?"

"I am rather taken with her," Beau said, looking across the room. "Why didn't you tell me that you had such a fine-looking sister? Lindley was more than happy to point her out to me."

"Lindley would be," Dalton said. "He's been made to take the plunge and is grabbing for any and all to get wet with him. I wouldn't fall for it, were I you."

"I must marry," Beau said easily, still looking at Clarissa. "Your sister has a look about hera Will you make the introductions? I've looked enough; 'tis time to take the first step."

"I will not," Dalton said stiffly. "You and Clarissa would not suit at all. I'm surprised you would suggest it, even more surprised that you can't see it for yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

Beau looked stupefied. Dalton couldn't have been happier.

"She's a sheltered girl, hardly out of the country, and as innocent as rain. A man as experienced as you with a girl like that? You'd have nothing to say to each other inside of five minutes. Besides, as you said, she's a fine-looking girl; she could do quite well for herself this season. Isn't Halston looking for a bride this year? He's got Haverly to offer. Must be worth more thana""

"Montwyn Hall is no shabby cottage on the edge of a field, Dalton," Beau cut in. "And Halston is almost forty. You'd encourage a match with a man twice her age?"

"And why not? He would be a stable, solid man for her." He ended the sentence there, but both heard the unspoken insult to Beau's maturity, solidity, and stability.

"I'm certain he would be," Beau said coldly. With a bow, he excused himself from Dalton's company, his anger plain.

Dalton watched him go with the faintest of smiles. Leave it to Lindley to play his hand openly, boldly encouraging Beau to offer for Clarissa. He pursued a darker course, one less plain. Nothing would set Beau after Clarissa like opposition; the man was as bored as he was himself in a sea of smiling and submissive girls. A squall would make him sit up and check his ropes. Dalton had stirred the breeze, and if he knew Clarissa, which he did, she would do the rest. If all went well, not only would Beau offer for her, he would be fairly determined to have her and none other.

Dalton smiled again at the thought of the two of them together and ducked his head until he had composed himself. He liked Beau, he truly did, and he would be a splendid match for Clarissa. Beau had an estate in Ireland, after all.

Determined not to indulge her sense of injustice and outrage about her inescapable fate as the wife of an Englishman, Clarissa decided to enjoy herself as well as she might in such company and circ.u.mstance. She had much to do if logic was to triumph over sentiment. With Jane beside her, they circled the room, mingling.

"He was rathera moist, was he not, Jane? I do not think that I should have to tolerate a damp husband. All the upholstery would be ruined in a month," Clarissa said softly as they moved away from Lord Dalrimple and his sister.

"Clarissa!" Jane gasped.

"What?" she replied.

"It is not seemly to saya""

"He cannot hear me, and I do say that I should be allowed my own opinion on the matter of my husband and his odors," Clarissa said. "Now, shall we join Lady Wolling and her son? He looks a likely sort, though a tad small for me. I should hate to outweigh my husband. Most difficult. I foresee very small and fragile children, and if they are boysa Well, perhaps we should simply bypa.s.s Lady Wolling altogether."

Jane nodded to Lady Wolling as they pa.s.sed, her eyes alight with embarra.s.sment and horrified humor.

"Although, now I do ponder it, I do not think that man capable of siring boys. Oh well," Clarissa said cheerily, "on to Miss Warthom and her sister, Eliza. No, never mind, I cannot stop to mingle with mere ladies. I must be about my duty to find myself a husband whom I can tolerate. A most difficult dilemma, is it not?"

"Really, Clarissa," Jane began, her cheeks flushed and her brow as white as chalk.

"Ah, but who is that in the corner with Perry? He's a likely looking young gentleman. Tall, well dressed, dry; why, he may be the very thing."

"Good evening, Lady Jane," he said with a bow.

"Good evening, Lord Stanson," Jane said.