“Oh-yes, yes it would. You won’t-?”
“No, of course I won’t! I was concerned only for Jemima.”
His mouth curved upward in a slight smile.
“You know, I like Jemima. She’s a little like you, in some ways. And in other ways, you are a little like Mother-”
Charlotte froze at the thought, although doubtless he intended it as a compliment.
His smile broadened into a grin.
“Don’t look so shocked. Mother has more courage than anyone else I know; she’d knock the stuffing out of all the old generals at Father’s clubs! And she was quite a beauty too. Only trouble was she could never flirt; didn’t know how; had no art of deception.”
Charlotte blushed. She had rather charged in, and certainly she had displayed no finesse. Perhaps she was more like Lady Augusta than she would have cared to admit. She looked up at Brandy to say something to excuse herself, make herself appear softer, when the general came in. His face widened in surprise when he saw Brandy.
“Best fire in the house,” Brandy said quickly. “You always bragged it was.”
“That does not mean I intended you to stand by it all afternoon, distracting Miss Ellison from her work.”
“Pity. Can’t think of a pleasanter thing to do on a filthy winter afternoon. Do you see the gutters, simply running over with water?”
“Then go and change your boots. I must get on with my work. You would be better if you found yourself something to do.”
“Can’t write my memoirs yet, I haven’t got anything to remember.”
Balantyne looked at him with slight suspicion, as if he thought he might be being faintly twitted, but Brandy’s face was bland with innocence. He went to the door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ellison, thank you for permitting me to stand by your fire,” and he went out.
“Was he disturbing you?” Balantyne asked a little sharply.
“Not at all,” Charlotte replied. “He wasn’t here long. I believe I have sorted those Marlborough letters, would you care to look at them?”
Emily had been several times to Callander Square since her last visit to Charlotte over the matter, and had managed to form quite a friendship with Christina. Therefore she was not surprised when Christina confided in her at the end of the first week in January that she was shortly to be married to Alan Ross.
The confidence itself did not surprise Emily; she had spent their entire acquaintance diligently seeking precisely this. But under any other circumstances, the choice of bridegroom would have surprised her considerably. Alan Ross and Christina Balantyne seemed to her judgment an unnatural partnering. From what she had seen of Ross, he was a serious and rather tense man, possibly even a man of deep feeling: whereas Christina was gay, when she chose, deliriously sophisticated, and essentially shallow. Still, he was of good family, and adequate means, and most important, apparently willing to marry at short notice.
“We are to be married at the end of the month,” Christina said, facing Emily in the morning room where they sat by the fire.
“My congratulations,” Emily replied, her mind considering the possibility that Christina might know by now whether she was actually with child or not. She was careful not to glance downward to a betraying waistline, but she had admired her gown earlier, to give herself an opportunity to look carefully then. There was certainly no sign of it. But it was early yet. In fact Charlotte was over four months, and still looked quite normal. Of course Charlotte was a bigger person than Christina, and all these things had to be taken into account.
“Thank you,” Christina accepted without enthusiasm. “I should like you to be there, if you are able?”
“Of course. It will be charming. Which church do you choose?”
“St. Clement’s. It is all arranged.”
“I hope you have a good dressmaker? It is so nerve-racking to be let down at the last moment. I can give you names, if you are not already suited?”
“Oh, I am, thank you. Miss Harrison is most reliable.”
“I’m so glad.” Emily sensed a certain restraint, something beneath the surface that Christina wished to say to someone, and yet could not decide. “You will make a beautiful bride,” Emily went on. “Mr. Ross is most fortunate.”
“I hope so.”
Emily affected to be mildly surprised.
“Have you some doubt? I think you will make him an excellent wife, if you wish to.”
Christina’s little face hardened.
“I’m not sure that I do wish to. I’m not sure that I wish to give up my freedom.”
“Good gracious, girl, there is no need to give up your freedom, or anything else-except money, of course-but even that can be managed properly, with a little forethought.”
Christina looked up, staring at her.
“What do you mean? I am marrying a man I am not in love with. What greater sacrifice of freedom can there be than that?”
It was time she was taught a little common sense.
“My dear, very few women marry men they are in love with,” Emily said firmly. “And even those who do, frequently find that it was a mistake. The kind of man one falls in love with is usually entertaining, witty, and handsome; but equally often he has no means to support one, is highly unreliable, and as like as not, will in due course fall out of love with you, and in again with someone else. To marry, one requires a man with good character, common sense in business, or else a private income of great proportions; he must be moderately sober and not gamble to excess, and be of gentle manners and acceptable appearance.”
“That sounds desperately dull,” Christina said sourly. “I don’t remember George Ashworth being like that!”
“Possibly not, but then I worked a great deal harder than you were prepared to do. I had not your advantages, so I had to create my own. But Mr. Ross seems pleasantly spoken and courteous; he has means, so I hear; and he is certainly well enough to look at. That is all you can reasonably expect.”
“Perhaps, but it is not all that I want!”
“Well, providing you are discreet, you can always fall in love afterward. But in the meantime you would be well advised to make the best of this. You are hardly the sort of person to be happy running off with some penniless romantic, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can begin to work on what you have. And make no mistake, my dear, you will have to work on it.”
“Work on it? I don’t know what you mean. I have done the work; we are to be married before the end of the month. He could not possibly let me down now. It would make his position impossible.”
Emily sighed. She had not realized any girl could grow up so ignorant. Whatever had Lady Augusta been thinking of? Or perhaps the Balantynes had enough money and social influence, and Christina sufficient looks, that they had considered it unnecessary. Or it was even possible that Lady Augusta had given all this advice, and Christina was merely too arrogant to have believed it.
“Christina,” she said slowly, “if you wish to be happy, you must realize that it depends upon your husband being happy, and upon his being agreeable to your conducting your life in the manner that best pleases you. You must teach him to want what you want, and if possible even to think that it is his idea. If he believes he has suggested a thing, he will never refuse you, even if he changes his mind. You must learn to be courteous to him at all times, or nearly all; never to argue with him, or disobey him, in public, and if you must do it in private, then do it either with a smile, or with tears. Don’t waste your time trying to be reasonable, men do not expect it, and it disconcerts them. Always pay attention to your looks; do not be extravagant beyond your means; and see that your servants keep your home properly. Never let there be domestic upsets, men do not like to have the order of things disturbed, above all by quarrels in the household.
“And if you have an admirer, for heaven’s sake be discreet; always, whatever it costs you, be discreet. No love affair is worth sacrificing your marriage for. And to be honest, my dear, I cannot see you loving anyone enough to lose your head over; your heart, for a little; or your desires, if you cannot contain yourself, although you would be better if you could; but never forget what scandal does to a woman. Your husband will tolerate all sorts of things, if you treat him well, but not scandal.”