Frederica had not the advantage of romantic novels, which would have taught her how to simper and waver and hold him in suspense. “Indeed, I need not hear them,” she replied. “For if you are too excessive in your commendation, it may stir up my vanity, and if you are too moderate, it will injure my pride.”
“Even the most extravagant praise of you must fall short of the truth,” he replied. “And any expression of my own admiration and love, however eloquent, will be less than you deserve.” He then proceeded to declare himself in as warm and rational a manner as a young lady of scientific disposition could wish, and asked for her hand in marriage.
Frederica hesitated, not from any reluctance to accept the offer but from an understanding of the enormity of the honor—but sense overcame her reticence and, in language that gave him no doubt of her affection, she accepted him.
“We will now have the happy task of undeceiving everyone who had us marry elsewhere.” He smiled. “But I think there will be at least as many who are happy for us as those who are disappointed.”
Frederica, imagining that he might immediately go down and proclaim his successful love to all the company, reminded him of their obligation to seek their parents’ consent before a more general announcement was made. “I would not have anyone happy before Mother and Sir Reginald,” she declared.
They joined the company once more, and although Reginald was obliged to yield Frederica to a succession of partners and to offer himself to several young ladies who would otherwise have had to sit out a dance, when they were together, they appeared so cheerful and animated as to persuade everyone that young deCourcy had reconciled Frederica to his union with her mother and that she had at last resigned herself to marrying Sir James.
While Sir James was seeing his mother to the carriage, Reginald drew Frederica aside, and they decided that their parents’ consent must be asked as soon as possible. “I think—I hope—that Sir Reginald will be happy,” said Frederica. “But I am afraid that the joy of Lady deCourcy and the Hamiltons will not be so easily won.”
“Whether or not they will approve, they must be resigned to what is inevitable,” declared Reginald. “I have left everyone else to cultivate my happiness too long, and they have been very poor gardeners—I must attend to it myself.”
chapter fifty-nine
Frederica was too happy to wait for daylight to make her important communication to her mother. Lady Vernon laughed, wept, and said, “Your father would have been so very pleased with your choice,” then wiped away her tears and smiled once more. Upon Frederica’s urging, she rang for Wilson, who hurried from her bed, fearing some change in her mistress’s condition; her congratulations were asked for and enthusiastically given, and their expressions of joy were so great that they drew Lady Martin from her own quarters.
“What? Are you still up, Susan? Are you ill?”
Her anxiety for Lady Vernon was immediately set right and her delight at Frederica’s news could barely be contained. “Oh, Lord bless me! Did I not tell you? Did I not say how well they were suited to each other? Oh, what a handsome couple you will make—and Miss Manwaring being married to his uncle! Oh, but it is not right that we should all celebrate and Miss Manwaring be left out!” she insisted, whereupon Miss Manwaring was called from her quarters to share in their joy.
Nearly an hour was spent in talking, until at last Lady Martin determined, “We must all get ourselves to bed. There will be enough time for talking tomorrow when we are refreshed—then we can go over the entire ball. I daresay I never saw anything as curious as Miss Hamilton’s hair! Why, I recall that I was proposed to at a ball myself—it was not your uncle, for a ball is a very romantic place to propose and your uncle did not have a romantic bone in his body—though he was a very good man, for all that. Come, we must get to bed.”
The morning hours of Portland Place were not late as a rule, but on the morrow, the girls and Lady Vernon were still in bed when Lady Martin came down to breakfast. She had just poured out her coffee and put a saucer of cream down for her cats when the door was thrown open and Sir James was ushered into the room.
“Good morning, Mother! Is no one else down? I had hoped that I might find all of you together so that I might be properly congratulated. Have no fear, nothing has got around yet, for half of respectable London and all of the scoundrels and gossips are still in bed, but I needed no confirmation other than deCourcy’s looks and Freddie’s smiles last night as the dancing progressed. Did I not tell you that the ball would do the trick? I take all the credit for the engagement that can be spared from Freddie—I will allow generously for her beauty and cleverness and the gracefulness of her dancing, but I must have my share of praise for bringing young deCourcy to the point.”
“And what did you do?” scoffed Lady Martin. “Frederica’s beauty comes from her mother’s side, for her mother was an Osbourne, and her cleverness was helped on by her parents and Miss Wilson, and the gracefulness of her dancing must be attributed to her own application to the process!”
“Well, then—I have sharpened her wits.”
“A girl needs very little wit to say ‘I will’ when a gentleman asks her.”
“You are determined not to flatter me at all—it is a pity that Susan is not up. She would not be so miserly with her praise. I must wait until tonight, for we are all to dine with the Johnsons. I am in such good spirits that I do not even mind that Charles Vernon is to be of the party.”
Sir Reginald and Mr. Lewis deCourcy called some time later, the former to address Lady Vernon and the latter to escort Miss Manwaring back to Edward Street.
Lady Vernon, whose natural fatigue had been increased by very little sleep, received Sir Reginald in her dressing room. He thought her very pale and languid, though she held out her hand in welcome, and her eyes glowed with pleasure when he told her how very pleased he was with his son’s choice and assured her that he gave his hearty consent to the union of their children. “Miss Vernon is everything I could wish in a daughter, and her disposition will complement Reginald’s in every regard. As to the date and the particulars, it must be arranged with respect to your situation; I would not impose upon your mourning and I hope that seeing your daughter to the altar will bring you a little happiness to lighten your sorrow.”
Lady Vernon thanked him, for his present kindness and for the many kindnesses he had shown Frederica while she was at Parklands. “Your son’s offer does credit to his heart, but with you I may be frank—it must be an offer that is entirely disinterested. My daughter has no fortune—certainly nothing like what would have been settled upon Miss Hamilton can be settled upon Frederica.”
“I am very sorry for Miss Vernon that such is the case—sorrier, indeed, because I must think that it would be otherwise but for the interference of my son-in-law. If I could compel him to make amends, I would do so. As it is, I can only give you my assurances that no claim to any entitlement save for Miss Vernon herself is sought.”
He then rose to take leave, as she did not seem to be equal to a prolonged conversation. He asked permission to call upon her again and assured her that she might very soon expect to receive a letter from Lady deCourcy giving her blessing and approval to the engagement.
Maria proposed that Frederica accompany her to Edward Street to spend the day, and Lady Vernon decided that she would just as soon be spared the paroxysms of astonishment and agitation when her dear friend Alicia Johnson learned of Frederica’s engagement.