Page 28 of A Marriage is Arranged

And so passed the period of their honeymoon, if such it could be called. After their wedding night, the Earl made no advances towards his wife. He was polite, even pleasant, but not affectionate. They spent little time together. In the mornings Gareth either exercised his horses or went to the Boxing Saloon. Then he went to the House. It was near the end of the session and the Lords were working longer than usual hours to deal with unfinished business. The married couple would meet at the lunch or dinner table, when they would discuss the daily news or questions raised in Parliament. He talked to her as he would to a colleague.

“I wish Stanhope would know when to shut up,” he said one day. “He does tend to let his enthusiasm get the better of him, even when he can see the mood of the House isn’t behind him. We’ve a lot on our plates before recess and his blathering on doesn’t help.”

“Oh, I rather like people with enthusiasms,” said Louise. “Even if they do go on about them. But I can imagine all the Lords are dreaming of sitting in the garden under a tree pretending to read the newspaper and don’t want to listen to any of it. I expect you will be happy to get away, too.”

“Yes, I will, but I won’t be spending much time reading under a tree. There’s always a lot to do at Overshott: meetings with the land agent and bailiff, checking on work that has supposedly been carried out. I simply exchange one job for another. The other day one of the Members introduced a Bill in the house aimed at limiting the beggars in the London streets. He seemed to think the only way was to pay them off, and handsomely too. Apparently they earn three shillings a day from begging, so they’d be fools to take less. I thought then that being a beggar sounded better than being an Earl. I should like to be paid for doing nothing.”

Louise laughed. “But if you dislike being an Earl, can’t you pass the title to your second cousin and his charming wife?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. As long as I’m alive, I can’t pass him the title. I’m born with the millstone and only death will release me from it.”

Louise looked him in the eyes and said seriously, “If that’s true, you must instruct me in what I can do to make the millstone lighter. I would be glad to do it, you know.”

“Thank you,” he answered with a rueful smile, “but I’m used to it, like a donkey with its burden.”

They said no more on the subject, but he found himself thinking of her response. He’d never thought of a wife as a partner.

For Louise the best part of the day was these meal times with her husband. Initially, she longed every night for him to repeat his visit to her bedchamber, but soon realized he was keeping to their contract. Sometimes she would hear his voice and his valet’s shortly after she had retired, but more often there would be no sound at all. A few times she had crept to the door between their chambers and listened, then carefully opened it, as she had that first day, but it was empty.

She didn’t allow her disappointment to show, but filled her days making every effort to be a cheerful and competent wife. She explored the house, including the shrouded ballroom, and went down to talk to Mrs. Bootle and Mrs. Smith about the arrangements for the upcoming Ball. She spoke a few words with any member of staff she encountered. She wandered around the garden and chatted with the men working there. Soon, familiarity with her appearance meant the staff no longer saw what she looked like, but only how she was, and they appreciated her.

In the mornings she would drink her tea and nibble her muffin in bed before getting up. She would have liked to breakfast with her husband, but thought that, like most men, he probably liked peace and quiet in the mornings. Then, having been down to the kitchens to check on menus and other arrangements for the day, she would sit down to read the newspaper.

Lisle now had this taken to her sitting room when the Earl left the house. The room had been thoroughly cleaned and with the dust covers off, the furniture was revealed to be comfortable, slightly faded chintz-covered armchairs and a settee. With the French windows open to the summer day, it was perfect. If it was warm enough, she would sit for a while in the arbor, the scent of roses in her nose, watching the play of the fountain.

She knew she must improve her wardrobe and, putting aside her qualms about dressing to attract her husband, visited Véronique to order a number of gowns for different occasions. The modiste had already sketched out what she knew would suit her, and Louise was happy to follow all her proposals. They agreed she would wear her wedding gown for the Dowager’s Ball. Most brides did this. She shyly asked the modiste how much the gowns were likely to cost. Her quarterly allowance seemed enormous, but she knew the modiste’s creations were far from cheap. The answer made her blink. So she asked Véronique to send each new gown with the bill as soon as it was ready. That way, she could put a stop on the orders if she ran out of money.

For the time being she had only her old clothes, but this turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for it meant that she and Rose could walk out incognito in the afternoons. They would leave the house on foot refusing both footman and carriage, and make their way around the streets. No one knew her, or recognized her in her ugly bonnet and ill-fitting gown. She enjoyed getting to know the area, with its fine homes built in squares around shady gardens where nursemaids walked their often fractious charges.

She found much to amuse her. One day, a clearly aristocratic lady descended from an emblazoned carriage with the head of a yapping pug emerging from her massive bosom. On another, a painted gentleman in bright yellow pantaloons and refulgent top boots tried to mount his horse, but was so tightly corseted that even with the aid of several footmen who attempted to lift, push, and pull him onto the animal, he could not get his leg over the saddle, and in the end had to give up. A carriage was brought round and he left, in no good temper, his exhausted footmen wiping the sweat from their eyes.

The only attention they drew was that of the appreciative eyes directed towards Rose. They were strolling along towards the end of the first week when a good-looking young man lifted his cap in her maid’s direction. She slowed her steps and a blush came to her cheek.

“Do you know that young man?” asked Louise.

“No, well, yes, that’s to say, ’e delivers the newspaper to the Dowager’s ’ouse and I ’ad a few words with him when we was staying there.”

“I see. He’s nice-looking, I must say.”

“Yes,” Rose blushed again.

It suddenly occurred to Louise that she had a responsibility for the girl. She knew now how a strong attraction could lead a young woman to act.

“You said he delivers newspapers. Does he deliver ours?”

“No, m’lady, but ’e said as ’ow ’e’d look me up when I got back to Lunnon.”

“Then I hope you won’t be tempted to do anything… foolish, Rose,” she said hesitatingly. “It’s hard sometimes when a man is, well, attractive.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Miss, I mean m’lady,” said Rose stoutly. “I know what they’re all after, and they’re not gettin’ it from me, not without a ring on me finger!”

“Good.”

They walked along in silence for a few minutes, then Rose said, “’E’s wanting to better ’imself, ’e told me. ’E talks to the newspaper men, seemingly. ’E sold one of them a story.”

“A story? What sort of story?”

“I don’t rightly know. But ’e got ten shillin’s for it!”