It was a depressing thought.
It was enough to cause him to live in a permanent bad temper.
The woman had smiled sunnily at him for three days, as if she thought him something of a joke.
It felt good to be home at last.
His youngest sister was the first person he saw when he arrived. She was on her way out of the house, dressed dashingly for riding. She smiled warmly and turned her cheek for his kiss. "Well?" she asked him. "What is he like?" "I am delighted to see you too, Cece," he said dryly. "You mean Merton?
He is cheerful and bright and seventeen years old." "And handsome?" she asked. "What color is his hair?" "Blond," he said. "I prefer men with dark hair," she told him. "But no matter. Is he tall?
And slim?" "Is he an Adonis in fact?" he asked her. "You will have to decide for yourself. Mama will doubtless take you over there soon. His sisters are there with him." She brightened still further. "Are any of them my age?" she asked. "I believe the youngest must be close," he said. "A year or two older, probably." "And is she pretty?" she asked. "Yes, very," he told her. "But so are you. And now you have had your compliment from me and can go on your way. You are not going to be riding alone, I hope?" "No, of course not!" she said, pulling a face. "One of the grooms will ride with me. I am going to join the Campbells. They asked me yesterday and Mama said I might go provided it did not rain." "Where /is /Mama?" he asked. "In her rooms," she said.
A few minutes later he sank gratefully into a soft up-holstered chair in his mother's private boudoir and accepted a cup of coffee from her hands. "You really ought to have let me know that you were bringing Merton's three sisters as well as him, Elliott," she said in response to the brief report he had delivered as soon as he had hugged her and asked after her health. "Cecily and I would have gone to call on them yesterday or the day before." "I judged that they needed some time to adjust to their new surroundings and circumstances, Mama," he said. "Throckbridge is a very small village quite off the beaten track. They lived there in near poverty in a small cottage. The youngest sister was teaching at the village school." "And the widow?" she asked. "She was living at Rundle Park, home of a baronet, her father-in-law," he said. "But it is not large, and Sir Humphrey Dew is a foolish, garrulous man, albeit good-natured and harmless. I doubt he has ever been farther than ten miles from home." "They are all going to need to be brought up to scratch, then," she said. "They are." He sighed. "I hoped to bring just Merton himself for now.
The sisters could have followed later - preferably /much /later." "But they /are /his sisters," she said, getting to her feet to pour him another cup. "And he /is /just a boy." "Thank you, Mama," he said, taking his cup from her hands. "How peaceful it is in here." He wished she did not have another daughter to bring out this year. It would save him from having to…
But he was going to have to marry /someone /this year. "They are a noisy family?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, no, no, nothing like that." He sighed again. "It is just that I felt so - " "Responsible?" she suggested. "You have done ever since you inherited that obligation, Elliott. Is the boy intelligent? Serious-minded?
Willing to learn?" "Definitely intelligent," he said, "though with something of a restless nature, I believe. He has wings and desperately wishes to use them without having much idea of how it might best be done." "He is, then, a typical young man," she said with a smile. "I suppose so," he said. "But he shows an interest in his land and its workings and in the prospect of taking on all the responsibilities of being a peer of the realm when he reaches his majority. He has agreed to continue with his plans to attend Oxford this autumn. He certainly has charm. I believe the servants at Warren Hall already adore him - not excluding Samson." "Then your time and efforts will not be wasted," she said. "And the ladies? Are they hopelessly rustic? Vulgar? Dull-minded?" "None of those things." He drained his cup, sighed with contentment as he stretched out his booted feet before him, and set it down at his elbow. "I believe they will go on well enough. But, Mama, they are going to need to be taken to town this spring and outfitted properly and introduced to all the right people and presented to society and…
Well, I just do not know how it is to be done. /I /cannot do it - not for the sisters, at least." "Certainly not," she agreed. "And /you /cannot do it," he said. "You have Cecily to bring out this year." He looked at her half hopefully. "I do," she agreed. "I did think perhaps Aunt Fanny or Aunt Roberta - " he began. "Oh, Elliott." She interrupted him. "You /cannot /be serious." "No," he said. "I suppose not. And Grandmama is far too elderly. George says I ought to marry and have my wife sponsor them." She brightened noticeably but then frowned. "You told me after Christmas," she said, "that you intend to marry this year, before you turn thirty. I am delighted, of course, but I do hope you are not intending to choose coldly with your reason and forget that you also have a heart." "And yet," he said, "marriages that are carefully planned and arranged often turn out more happily than love matches, Mama." He wished he had not said that as soon as the words were out. His mother's marriage had been very carefully arranged. But though she had been young and beautiful - and was still handsome in middle age - it had not been a happy match. His father had remained firmly attached to the mistress and family that had preceded her and her own.
She smiled into her cup but did not look up at him. "George suggested that I marry Miss Huxtable," he told her, watching her closely.
His mother had been lifting her cup to her lips, but her hand paused in midair. "The eldest sister?" she asked. "Of course," he said. "A rustic girl who has been living in a rural cottage?" She frowned at him and set her cup back in the saucer. "And someone you scarcely know?
How old is she?" "Probably in her middle twenties," he said. "She is sensible and refined of manner despite her humble upbringing in a country vicarage - and she is the great-granddaughter and sister of an earl, Mama." "/George /said." She looked fixedly at him. "But what do /you /say, Elliott?" He shrugged. "It is time I married and set up my nursery," he said. "I am quite resigned to being a married man before the year is out and a father as soon as possible after that. I have no preference for any particular bride. Miss Huxtable is, I suppose, as eligible as anyone." His mother sat back in her chair and said nothing for a while. "Jessica and Averil both married advantageously," she said. "But just as important, Elliott, they both had an affection for their husbands even before they married them. It is what I will hope for with Cecily either this year or next. It is what I have always hoped for with you too." "This is a discussion we have had before." He smiled at her. "I am /not /a romantic, Mama. I hope to marry someone with whom I can enjoy some comfort and companionship and even affection down the years. But most of all I hope to marry sensibly." "And is Miss Huxtable a sensible choice?" she asked him. "I trust so," he said. "Is she beautiful?" his mother asked. "Extremely," he said.
She set down her cup and saucer on the table beside her. "It is high time Cecily and I took the carriage over to Warren Hall," she said, "to pay our respects to the new Earl of Merton and his sisters. They must think it remiss of us not to have done so already. Is Constantine still there?" "He left three days ago." His jaw tightened. "Cecily will be disappointed," she said. "She adores him. I daresay the new Earl of Merton will be inducement enough to persuade her to accompany me, though. She has asked a thousand questions about him, none of which I have been able to answer. I will take a look at Miss Huxtable. Are you quite determined to have her?" "The more I think of it, the more I am in favor of the idea," he said. "And will she have you?" his mother asked.