Page 4 of A Marriage is Arranged

“Well, my dear! Didn’t I say he would want to marry you?” cried her mother. “You are exactly the wife a man like him is looking for. You are well bred and you know not to make a fuss. But my goodness! One cannot call him good-looking. And his shoulders! He looks, well, he looks almost like an ape! Nor are his manners exactly what one expects from a gentleman. But then, he is probably accustomed to people toadying to him.” She looked searchingly at her daughter. “I hope you did not find him altogether unappealing, my dear. I would never push you into marriage with a man you found repulsive.”

“No, I did not find him repulsive.”

She hesitated. How could she explain the irresistible pull she felt towards him? She knew he was ugly and unmannerly, but she couldn’t help it.

“I must agree, though,” she said with a light laugh, “we will make the ugliest couple in London. Our poor children will have to look further than their parents for any share of beauty. Let us hope they take after their grandmama!”

“Oh, my dear!” her mother smiled, “I can have no pretentions to beauty now, though it’s true I was much admired when I was younger.”

“Nonsense, Mama! You know you are still a very pretty lady. Everyone says so. I fear when I’m no longer here to frighten them off you will fall prey to hosts of suitors. ”

“Now you are being ridiculous! And you are not ugly! If you would only let your hair curl by your ears instead of putting it in those tight bands, you would look so much better!”

“But he offered for me as I was, with my braid and my old brown gown.”

Since this was irrefutable, Mrs. Grey could not contradict her. But privately, she thought that after the wedding ceremony her daughter was going to have to do a little better if she wanted her husband to stay close to the hearth. He might be rude and look like an ape, but with his position and money there would always be women who found him attractive.

Her daughter knew what she was thinking but said nothing. She had promised their marriage would be successful, and she had meant it. She didn’t know how yet, but she would arrange it.

The Earl returned the following week, having sent the promised note of the day and time of his arrival. On this occasion, he arrived in a carriage drawn by four beautiful bays. Entering the house, he ordered the butler to have them led to the stables. When informed of this by her startled manservant, Mrs. Grey was a little shocked at his presumption, but gratified that it at least showed his intention of staying for somewhat longer.

Louise knew he had been shown into the library where her mother was waiting. She stayed in her room until a footman came to inform her when she was wanted. He delivered the message some twenty minutes later, and she descended the stairs slowly, again clad in her brown gown, her curly hair tightly held in its bands.

The gentlemen rose when she entered, and she saw a flash of surprise in the eyes of the gentleman who must be his lordship’s man of business. She understood. She must look quite different from the fashionable women in London.

“Ah, Miss Grey, there you are.” The Earl did not come forward to greet her, but gave a shallow bow from where he was standing. He indicated his companion. “This is Arnold Booking, my man of business.”

The solicitor, a grey-haired older man, did approach her; he bowed formally and murmured, “Miss Grey.”

They sat at the long library table, on top of which a leather-covered box lay open, an inkwell and pen next to it. Mr. Booking pulled a chair out for Louise next to her mother. The Earl merely sat down.

“His lordship has been most generous,” said Mrs. Grey.

She put a piece of paper in front of her daughter and Louise read it carefully. She had the impression her future husband was not expecting her to do so, for he drew his prominent eyebrows together in a frown. He said nothing but tapped his fingers on the polished surface of the desk. To her astonishment she saw that after her marriage she was to be given the enormous sum of a thousand pounds a quarter. This was ten times more than her current allowance.

However, she did not want to appear like an excited schoolgirl being given an unexpected treat. She nodded slightly in the Earl’s direction and said, “Yes. I see. That will be satisfactory.”

There was a moment of silence, then Mr. Booking said, “If you would both be so kind as to sign that you have read and agree to what is laid out here?”

The Earl reached for the pen and ink, signed the document in silence, then pushed it towards her mother. Under his signature, which was simply the word Shrewsbury written in a determined hand, her mother signed her name and added for my daughter, Louise Mary Grey. Mr. Booking had indicated that since Louise was not yet twenty-one, her mother would have to sign for her.

The solicitor produced a pounce box and shook fine sand over the signatures.

“Now,” he said, looking a little anxiously at Louise’s mother and herself, “we come to the more delicate issue of his lordship’s, er, conjugal rights.”

Louise couldn’t stop herself. “Conjugal rights?” she said in astonishment.

“Yes,” said the Earl, speaking for the first time since she had sat down, “I think it best for this to be laid out so there is no misunderstanding later. It is entirely usual in France where as far as arranged marriages are concerned, these things are managed better than here.”

Apparently anxious to have done with this part of the settlements, the solicitor said quickly, “His lordship proposes once a fortnight until the first child is conceived and if it is a male child, once in every thirty day period thereafter, the actual days by mutual consent.”

Louise looked at her mother, who, however, refused to meet her eye.

“You must forgive me,” she said quietly, feeling a blush spreading over her cheeks, “I had not considered this question at all. I should like to speak to my mother in private, if you please.”

The Earl drew his brows together, but after a hesitation he rose, followed by his man of business. They left the room.

“Mama! Have you ever heard of such a thing?” she said in an anxious semi-whisper.

“No-o,” replied her mother slowly, in the same whisper, “but you know, my dear, it is a good idea. One is otherwise in the position of constantly wondering whether one’s husband is, well, going to visit one that night. That can make for, er, disagreeable uncertainty. This way, you will agree and it will be done, and you will be free for two weeks until the next time. I think many women would like that. I know I would have. Not that I didn’t care for your father’s attentions, you understand,” she added quickly. “But it will make your life more, well, more comfortable. You’ll see.”

“I suppose so,” said Louise doubtfully, “Though since I know rather little of what is entailed, I cannot tell how I shall feel.”

“Well, we can’t go into all that now,” said her mother hurriedly. “We cannot keep his lordship waiting. He didn’t seem to want us to discuss it at all.”

“I don’t want to be difficult, mama, but at this point, his wishes concern me less than my own. Of course we cannot discuss it now, but please let us talk of it later.”

Her mother looked even more uncomfortable but said, “Yes, yes, later, but not now.”

Louise went to the library door and opened it. The two men were sitting next to each other on the straight-backed bench in the hall, for all the world like two schoolboys waiting to see the Dean. Louise’s wide eyes danced with amusement at the thought.

Arnold Booking noticed them. Why, she is not such a mouse as she appears, he thought, I wonder if Gary appreciates it.

He always called the Earl Gary to himself. The man was so infernally superior, he liked to take him down a notch. The old Earl had been much easier to deal with. He smiled at Louise and she smiled back. Yes, definitely not a mouse, he decided.

They came back into the room. Once they were seated, Louise said calmly, “I agree to this … arrangement.”

Her future husband merely nodded.

His man of business produced the document, which they both signed as before. Mrs. Grey invited the gentlemen to take a glass of sherry to celebrate the conclusion of their business.

“Yes, please do,” said Louise quietly. “The horses are stabled, so there is no danger of their taking cold.”

Dammi t , thought the Earl. Does the girl miss nothing? But he bowed in acquiescence and accepted a glass of sherry. He was surprised when it turned out to be remarkably good.