Marjorie Farrell (7 page)

“I had been planning to, but I received a surprise visitor this morning who gave me some news which…”

Miranda looked immediately concerned. “Nothing wrong, I hope, Mother? Who was it?”

“It was Jeremy’s godfather, the Viscount Acland.”

“Oh?” Miranda looked a bit apprehensive.

“He told me that you and the earl have contracted a secret engagement.”

Miranda lowered her eyes and her face flamed. “Yes, we have.”

“And why secret?” Nora asked quietly. “This is the first time you have ever lied to me. Were you afraid?”

“Oh, no, Mama, it wasn’t a lie,” her daughter gasped.

“An act of deception is the same as one in words, my dear.”

“I suppose you are right. I never thought of it that way. I am sorry. But we only wished to keep it a secret a little while for ourselves. To enjoy our happiness, just the two of us. Before…”

“Before you met your families’ objections?”

“I suppose we were a little worried that Jeremy’s mother would object. But you do not. I know you love Jeremy.” Miranda smiled.

Nora answered slowly and carefully. “You are right. The earl is a lovable young man. But I am concerned about two things: your age and the disparity in your situations.”

“Is that why you keep calling him the earl, which you have never done since the first day we met him? You have raised me to believe we are all equal, Mama. Why should that not work upward, as it were? And as for age, well, you were just as young when you married my father, so you could hardly object to that.”

“I have raised you in those beliefs, my young radical, but I doubt very much that Lady Lavinia feels the same. Jeremy’s mother expects him to marry some young woman whose birth and fortune are equal to his own. I cannot see her welcoming as a daughter-in-law an obscure young girl from Hampstead.”

Miranda’s eyes began to shine with the righteous anger of idealistic youth, and Nora knew she was right in her advice to the viscount. “Did the countess send the viscount here to warn me off?”

“No, nothing like that. But you can’t imagine she wouldn’t want to know something about her son’s fiancée
.
”

“Then she won’t forbid the match!” The battle light faded as Miranda’s eyes grew soft with happiness.

“Neither of us would forbid a marriage if the young people concerned are sincerely attached to one another. But both of us would like to wait for a formal announcement until our families become better acquainted.”

“Why, that is just what we were hoping, Mother. Jeremy said he was going to tell his mama soon so that before the Season was over we could meet her. And how could she fail to approve of you, Mother? You are a lovely, intelligent woman and the match for any countess!”

“Thank you, my dear. Your objectivity does you credit,” Nora said ironically, and they both laughed.

“No, seriously, Mother, I believe once we all get to know one another, there will be no doubts is anyone’s mind. How did you like the viscount, by the way? He sounds splendid, from the way Jeremy talks about him.”

“I didn’t spend much time with him, but he seems nice enough. I assume we will see more of him this summer, for he seems quite a confidant of the countess’s.”

“Jeremy says he was one of her old suitors, but she fell in love with his father, and that was that. He thinks his mother would be happy to reattach the viscount, but his godfather seems content to remain just that.”

Nora was aware of a fleeting sense of disappointment. Despite her anger this morning, she had not gotten the feeling that the viscount was as much of a snob as Jeremy’s mother would seem to be. To be sure, she had only her own picture in her mind, which, writer-fashion, she was making more and more detailed, of a vain, frivolous woman whose only concern for her son was material and superficial. The man she had met did not seem like the sort to be attracted to her imaginary countess…but what business was it of hers, after all? After this summer, they would never see one another again.

“We will, no doubt, hear from her soon. Should we invite them here first, do you think?”

“Oh, yes. Jeremy says his mother hardly ever gets out of town during the Season. What about a short walk and a picnic on the Heath?”

“I think that would do very well,” Nora responded, feeling more and more like a hypocrite. It would do very well, she was sure, to show the two young people that their families’ ideas of entertainment and enjoyment were quite opposite. And here she was, berating her daughter for deception, while she was embarked upon a much more serious one, which could eventually cause pain to someone who was dearer to her than herself. But the heartache will soon pass, she thought. And she
cannot
marry Jeremy, or much greater heartache will follow.

The day following his visit to Hampstead, the viscount was again interrupted, this time by Jeremy himself. The earl apologized for the disturbance, but said he had something of the greatest importance to speak to his godfather about. Sam invited Jeremy to take a seat and looked over at him expectantly. The young man stopped nervously smoothing his trousers and began.

“I have some news, Sam, which I know you have received unofficially from my mother.”

“Yes?”

“The truth is, I am engaged to be married.”

“So I understand,” Sam replied. “I was surprised it was not the Burrows chit.”

Jeremy was more flustered by this calm response than he would have been by the expected protest.

“No, no. Why ever would you think of her? She is a charming girl, but not my sort at all.”

“You have been quite attentive to her lately.”

“Why, yes, but out of nothing more than friendship. She cannot compare with Miranda.”

“Ah, yes. This Miss Dillon. However did you meet her?”

“I always stop for an ale when I am coming back into town from the north. I did a few months ago, and saw a most heroic act: Miss Dillon pushing a little boy out of the path of a racing curricle. She risked her own life. As it was, she was brushed by the wheels and quite shaken by the whole thing. I ran out and supported her back to the inn, where I made sure she was all right before I walked her home. Her mother was most grateful and invited me back for tea. I liked her so much, Miranda, that is…well, I like her mother too…” Jeremy, who had started out calmly, was, as he approached the climax of his story, beginning to be nervous. “Well, I have been visiting regularly, we became great friends, and then, in one moment, it seemed, we realized we loved one another.”

“And Miss Dillon agreed to this secret betrothal?”

“I know it sounds improper, Sam, but neither of us wanted the world to intrude upon such new feelings. Yet, since we knew they were lasting, we wished to make a commitment to one another.”

“And what of your mother? Your position as earl? Who
is
Miss Dillon, aside from her bravery?”

“Her mother is an authoress. She supports them both by writing novels. Popular ones, I’m afraid,” Jeremy said with a smile. “Miss Dillon has been educated by her mother. They are both widely read and I am sure you will love their conversations as much as I do.”

“And when you told your mother?”

“She was quite shocked, of course, since she expected me to play the field for a few years and then settle down with some society miss. But I know when she meets Miranda she will love her. And I know I can count on you, Sam, to help her over her disappointment.”

The viscount was touched by this evidence of Jeremy’s trust in him, and surprised the boy thought he was so unconventional as to countenance a bad match. He was even a bit ashamed of himself, for he and his godson had spent many an evening discussing the issues of the day, and Sam had only himself to blame if Jeremy had developed a libertarian perspective. But that he expected it to extend to domestic matters surprised the viscount. No matter what one’s political leanings, one followed society’s dictates. As a matter of the nobility, it was expected that one marry within one’s class.

“Jeremy, do you think your mother unreasonable to be disappointed and upset?” queried the viscount.

Jeremy stood and started pacing in front of the window. He turned to Sam and said earnestly: “Had I not met Miranda, I believe I would understand, Sam. I expected to wait a few years, to marry the usual way, and do my duty to the family. Not because I am at heart convinced of the rightness of that course; merely because it is what one does
.
Having met Miranda, however, and having fallen deeply in love with her, I feel like someone who has been saved from hurling himself over a cliff along with all the other sheep headed in the same direction.”

Jeremy turned to face the viscount, and Sam looked at him closely for the first time since he had arrived. The boy combined the best of his mother and father, in appearance and character. He had the striking blondness of Lavinia, made even more striking because he had his father’s brown eyes and the strength and intelligence of the late earl. His face had lost its adolescent downiness, and for a twenty-year-old, was surprisingly mature. But the passion was a young man’s passion, thought Sam. The belief that because one wanted so much, everyone must also see the rightness of it and want the same for him. He remembered how he had thought Lavinia must love him, if only because he loved her. And as his passion for Lavinia had died, so too would Jeremy’s love for this unknown girl.

“Well, it certainly sounds as though a meeting were in order.”

“Then you do understand! I knew you would.”

“Better than you would think, for a gentleman of my advanced years.”

“Pah. You are in better shape than many of my friends, who spend their time drinking and gambling. You don’t look a day over thirty-five!”

“Thank you, Jeremy,” Sam replied dryly. “Now I must ask you one thing, which is not, I think, unreasonable.”

“Yes?”

“I think it best to keep the engagement informal for a few months.” As Jeremy started to protest, Sam held up his hand. “Hear me out. This will allow your mother and me time to become acquainted with the Dillons. You will have a sanctioned, if private betrothal, and should any change of heart take place on either side, neither you nor Miss Dillon will suffer in the eyes of society. And, to be quite truthful, I cannot, at this point, imagine getting your mother to agree to anything else.”

Jeremy sighed, and gave in. “You are probably right. And since there will be no change of heart, we can make our announcement at the beginning of the Little Season and introduce Miranda to society then.”

“Now, how do we arrange our first meeting?”

“I think I will ride out to Hampstead this afternoon,” Jeremy said. “I will speak with Miranda’s mother, and we will decide who should call on whom first.”

“You hadn’t spoken with Mrs. Dillon either, I understood from her.”

Jeremy had the grace to blush. “No, we kept it secret from her also. I can see now it was a thoughtless thing to do. How did you like her?”

“She seems an independent sort.”

“Yes, Nora has supported them both on her own,” Jeremy said. “And, Sam, one of the wonderful things about this is that I can offer her some help after all her years of poverty.”

“You are generous, Jeremy.”

“But I have so much,” Jeremy replied, with that openness he had had even as a small boy, when he was forever giving toys and puppies away.

And I mean to see you are not taken advantage of, thought Sam, who could not help but have lingering doubts about a woman who seemed honest enough, but who was, after all, a mother. And what mother would not want to advance her daughter and herself?

It was not until more than a week later that the first meeting took place. By the time Jeremy and his mother spoke again and he and the Dillons met, having the most formal conversation since they had been acquainted, with Jeremy taking the responsibility for the deception, the earliest convenient time for both the families was the second Tuesday in June. The meeting was to be in Hampstead: a picnic on the Heath with tea later back at the cottage.

Jeremy and Sam dressed comfortably for a day in the country, but had not been able to convince Lavinia that half-boots would be more appropriate than kid slippers and that an everyday round gown was more appropriate than the muslin walking dress she chose to wear.

“I am meeting my son’s fiancée for the first time, and no matter that she is beneath him, I intend to dress according to the occasion. And surely I have dressed like this for other picnics. It is quite the thing,” said Lavinia at the door when Sam had remarked upon the formality of her attire. Jeremy grimaced behind her and said: “I tried to convince my mama that a picnic at Richmond is a bit different than one on the Heath, but with no great success.”

“No matter,” Sam said, thinking things were going according to plan. Lavinia had always been at her best in the city, and aside from riding, enjoyed no physical activity. It was the one discordant note in her marriage to Charles, for he would have spent most of his time in Sussex, had he not been such a doting husband. Lavinia, if he and Mrs. Dillon were lucky, would no doubt ruin the day and the two young lovers were bound to wake up to the difficulties inherent in trying to join two such different families. “Let us go or we will be late,” Sam urged.

“Late,” moaned Lavinia, as she settled back into the chaise. “This is the earliest I have been out in an age.”

Jeremy had chosen to ride inside with his mother, a choice he regretted after the first ten minutes, since she hated traveling and suffered from quite genuine motion sickness. She held her vinaigrette in one hand and the strap in the other and looked paler and paler as the chaise proceeded at a snail’s pace. They had chosen a busy market day, so the pig population, as well as sheep and cattle, was out, and the journey to the High Street, and, indeed, part way up, was slow and smelly. Jeremy, although he would never have admitted it, was almost ready to give up and turn back. He loved his mother, but her weaknesses, which often amused him, were at the moment annoying. He was torn between sympathy for her real distress and the disloyal wish that she was more like Miranda’s mother.