A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(4)
CHAPTER TWO
Her own money. Verity sipped her tea as Charles left the room, her thoughts alive with new possibilities. She had known Uncle James would help with Mama’s future comfort, for he had said so the first time he visited after Papa’s death. It had never occurred to her, however, that she herself might benefit. Foremost in her thoughts was the significant circumstance that - depending upon the size of the bequest - she might not now have to marry in order to live comfortably. She would be able to support herself rather than depend on the whims of a husband.
This would be an excellent boon. Verity had no great opinion of the married state. Some of her friends seemed happy, it was true, but others appeared very little better off than when they had been living under their father’s roof. Additionally, Mama had been so much more content and their whole lives so much less proscribed since Papa had died that, apart from the finances, she could not see why matrimony should be thought desirable. That being the case, it was more important than ever to keep Charles here for a few days, to impress upon him her sobriety so she might command her own affairs sooner rather than later. She opened her mouth to observe as much when her mother gave a tiny sigh.
“It is a shame George Tweedie did not come himself. I would have liked to welcome him here.”
Verity looked at her mother, surprised. “Mr Tweedie, Mama? I was thinking Charles would be far more amenable to our notions of wresting your dowager’s pittance away from John’s control.”
“I am sure he will do so in handsome style, my dear, but I assure you George Tweedie is a most dogged man. You have only met him once or twice. I saw a great deal of him in former times. He was at school with your uncle many years ago, though he was older of course, and his family has always acted for the Harringtons. It was he who drew up my marriage articles. I remember he was so unobtrusive and thoughtful of my comfort during the process. His restful presence was one of the few blessings in what was a very turbulent period.”
Verity hid her startled reaction to this confidence. Mama had often recounted episodes from her childhood, but she’d rarely mentioned the time immediately before her marriage. It was not so very surprising, perhaps. She was in general so quiet and reflective, that the bustle of a betrothal and wedding must have been very trying to her sensibilities. Verity tried to imagine her grandparents getting up grand schemes for the entertainment of the wedding party. No, it couldn’t be done. They were all correctness and show. Their eldest son was exactly in their image, so how they had produced her loud, rumbustious Uncle James, who had always said what he thought exactly at the moment he thought it, she had no idea.
“Then we must certainly invite Mr Tweedie to visit us when he is not so busy. Oh...” She jumped up, having caught a glimpse of a visitor advancing up the dower house path. “Mama, you don’t wish to see Reverend Milsom, do you? Shall I give orders that we are not to be disturbed?”
She whisked out into the passage before her mother could answer and hissed instructions to the footman.
“There,” she said, re-entering the room. “I declare that man must have spies the length of the village. No sooner does he hear that a visitor from London has bespoke the gig from the Horseshoes than he must needs hasten up here to find out why.”
“I daresay he would not have stayed so very long,” said Mama.
“Long enough to cut up our peace.” Verity clicked her tongue against her teeth, keeping a covert eye on the window. “And now the wretched man is heading across the park to John and Selina. How long do you suppose it will be before we are favoured with a visit from them?”
“John will be about the estate at this time of the day,” said her mother peaceably. “Selina will no doubt be resting.”
“This is true. She is certainly making the most of her interesting condition. Reverend Milsom will have a wasted walk which is only what he deserves.” A small smile played around Verity’s mouth. “All the same, Mama, these constant interferences in our business are becoming somewhat wearisome. I begin to have a little idea...”
Mrs Bowman regarded her daughter with a wariness that showed she was not quite so gentle and passive as others often thought her. “Am I to know what it is?”
Verity smiled properly as the beauty of her plan unfolded in her head. “Oh yes, and I think you will like it.”
Verity might be playing a game with him, but Charles still found pleasure in escorting the two ladies through from the saloon to the small dining room. Whether the spread on the table was their normal fare, he couldn’t tell. He suspected Cook would have added a couple of dishes to cater for a gentleman’s appetite. Whatever the answer, it was a far cry from his bachelor dinners at home and he intended to do full justice to the excellent cooking.
He helped them all to portions of chicken in a butter sauce and said conversationally, “I did not know you had recently been in town.”
“We have not,” said Verity. “Why would you think so?”
“That gown did not come from Bury St Edmunds.”
She stroked the rich satin with a roguish smile. “No indeed. I had it made up in Bond Street for John and Selina’s wedding.”
Charles was taken aback. “You wore black to your brother’s wedding? That seems rather singular, even if you have little love for him.”
Verity and her mother exchanged amused glances.