‘You will give me my experience. Is that not what a husband should do?’
‘I am afraid,’ he said.
‘Please do not be afraid that I will not be suitable.’
‘I am afraid that I am the one who will fail you.’
‘This must be the strangest proposal ever made,’ I said. ‘You ask me to marry you and then you proceed to tell me why I shouldn’t.’
‘All I want is for you to be sure and not to discover that you have made a terrible mistake.’
‘I am sure,’ I cried. ‘I am. I am.’
Then he stood up and he held me in his arms. I had never been embraced by a man before so I had no way of judging it.
I thought he was very tender and I knew that I was going to be very happy.
He called next day and asked to see Gervaise. They were together for some time, during which I waited in a fever of impatience. I knew that all would be well because the decision would rest with my parents, and I was sure that if I told my mother I loved this man and could never be happy without him, she would surely give her consent. Then I supposed I would have to wait for my father’s, but that need not be so, for he would sanction anything of which she approved and she knew it.
Gervaise sent for me and when I went in Richard was with him.
I could see that Gervaise was a little disturbed, for I had come to know that he was a man who felt he had a duty towards me and would regard that duty with the utmost seriousness.
‘You know, my dear,’ he said, ‘that General Tolworthy is asking for your hand in marriage. I believe you have accepted his proposal.’
‘Yes,’ I said warmly and happily, ‘I have,’
‘Then,’ said Sir Gervaise, ‘I will write at once to your mother, and you perhaps should do the same, as the General will, and the letters can be despatched today.’
‘I understand Angelet’s father is on the high seas,’ said Richard.
‘He often is,’ I cried, ‘and we never know when he will be home. My mother will speak for them both.’
Richard looked askance at Gervaise, who said: ‘I believe that could be so. Let us all write our letters and they can then be despatched without delay.’
I went to my room, my head whirling with delight. I wrote to both my mother and my sister, and I knew that they would read the happiness in my letters. When I tried to describe him it was difficult. I could not say he was like this or that one, for there was simply no one like him. He was different from all other men. He was important. He was a general in the King’s army. He was a friend of the King’s and the Queen’s and he would defend them with his life. He was serious. They need not think he was a frivolous man of the town. No, he was a steady clever soldier, and his great concern was that he should make me happy.
I knew my mother would never be able to withhold her consent when she read my letter.
Carlotta was piqued when she heard the news.
‘I simply do not believe it,’ was her first comment. And afterwards: ‘I always thought there was something strange about Richard Tolworthy.’
‘There was a time when you thought him rather attractive,’ I pointed out, and added maliciously: ‘That was when you thought he preferred you.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ she said. ‘In any case you’re far too young for marriage.’
‘I shall be eighteen.’
‘You are immature for your age,’ she told me, and walked out of the room.
Yes, she was very angry.
Ana whispered to me: ‘She is angry because she does not like any but herself to be preferred.’
Mab said the same and I knew that they were right.
Richard left on duty and said that he would be away for a week or so and as soon as he was free to do so he would call on us.
Meanwhile we waited and I lived in a dream. I did not look into the future. I could not because I found it very hard to imagine what it would be like. There was a house, Far Flamstead, which I had not seen and which Richard had not described very clearly. He was not good at descriptions, I thought fondly. I knew its whereabouts roughly but he had never suggested taking me there, which was perhaps rather strange, but I had a notion that he wanted to wait for my family’s consent before he regarded us as betrothed.
It seemed a long time before the letters came.
‘My dearest Angelet,’ wrote my mother,
‘I was surprised to hear the news and your happiness came through to me. I wish it were possible for us to come to London, but that is quite out of the question. Bersaba is not yet strong enough to travel. My dear child, I understand how you are feeling. This is a wonderful thing that has happened to you. Sir Gervaise has written to me and so has General Tolworthy. He sounds a very serious man and eager to care for you. And you are truly in love with him. You could not disguise your true feelings from me if you tried.
I wish your father were here, but you know we can never be sure when he will return, and Fennimore is not even here either. I know that you do not want to wait. I have experienced this myself when I was your age, so I am writing to General Tolworthy and to Sir Gervaise and telling them that they have your family’s consent to your marriage.
Oh my dearest, how different it is from what I imagined! I had planned that you should be married in this house and naturally I thought it would be someone hereabouts and that you would live near to me and Trystan Priory. But this is clearly what you want and I know how unhappy you would be if I withheld my consent.
So, my dear, be happy. You may become betrothed. Perhaps you could come down here to be married. I wonder if that is possible?
Bersaba is writing to you. It will be but a short note. There is a great change in your sister, but she is gradually though slowly regaining her strength.
I hope to hear from you soon, my darling.
My dearest love as ever,
Mother.’
I kissed the letter. How like her. So calm, so reasonable. It was not what she had planned. Of course it wasn’t. Who would have believed Bersaba would have fallen ill and I should come to London and find my husband there. But she accepted it. It was life, and she remembered the time when she and my father were young and how dearly she had loved him!
And from Bersaba:
‘Dear Angelet,
So you are to be married. Fancy! I always thought we’d be married together. I hope you will be happy.
You will see a great change in me when we meet. I have been so ill, as you know, but you can’t know what a change there is in me. I have to rest a great deal, and there are you going to balls and meeting interesting people, and now you are going to be married. I want to see you, Angelet, so much. There is such a lot I want to say. I can’t write more now because I am so tired and they are waiting to take the letters.
Do come home and bring your future husband. I long to see you both.
Your loving twin, Bersaba.’
It was the first letter she had written to me in her life because we had always been together and she had been too weak to write before.
Try as I might I could not imagine her languid in her bed, she who had always been so vital in her somewhat secret way.
But I confess I was too excited to think very much about my home. My future was here.
Richard rode over and was closeted with Sir Gervaise, and after a while he came to the parlour, where I was waiting for him.
‘This is good news,’ he said. ‘We have your mother’s consent and she assures us that she speaks for your father. There is nothing now to prevent our betrothal.’
He took my left hand and put a ring on the third finger. It was a strange ring—a twist of gold very elaborately engraved, with a square-cut emerald set in it.
It seemed to fit me perfectly.
‘A good omen,’ he said. ‘It’s the family ring, always worn by the brides of the eldest son.’