"Thar it was very kind of you to allow me to come here with Uncle Henry and to show me your beautiful castle and ..." She had paused to look at him. Then she added severely: "But I can see I shall have to make you more careful in future. There I've been impertinent again."
"Please go on ... being impertinent."
"Do you know, Mr. Weld, you are not in the least like an uncle. Do you feel rested now? Shall we go down?"
He rose and said: "One moment. Let us look over the parapet so that you can see the countryside."
She stood with him so close that a strand of her long hair blew across his face.
Ask her now? Say: "AH this is mine. Share it with me." If she were mercenary ... but she was not. She was just sweet, innocent and infinitely desirable.
"Maria," he began.
She turned to him, her eyes shining with pleasure in the beautiful landscape.
"Yes, Mr. Weld?" she prompted.
"You like ... all this?"
"Certainly. Who could help it?"
"You would like to live here?"
"I think it's the most delightful spot."
"Then ..."
She looked at him expectantly.
"No" he said. "I am too old ... and you are too young." Then she understood.
She was bewildered. She wanted to get to her room and think.
There was a letter from Mamma. Mr. Weld had offered marriage. Mamma and Papa had thought a great deal about this offer. Uncle Henry could vouch for Mr. Weld who was a good man and belonged to one of the foremost Catholic families in England. He was devoted to Maria; he did not ask for a dowry which, Maria would realize, was a great consideration, poor Papa's affairs being what they were. Mr. Weld had already proved himself a good husband to a lady of high rank. It was flattering that he should wish their dearest Maria to take her place, so Maria should think very seriously about this. It was not that they would force her to marry where she did not wish; they would not even urge her to do so; but what they would do was ask her to think very carefully of her position. She was not rich; she had little to offer but her beauty; there were the boys and Frances to consider. And while Mamma and Papa would not for one moment suggest that she accept Mr. Weld's offer if she did not wish to, they would be very happy if she decided to be wise and do so.
Maria read that letter over and over again.
Mr. Weld was so kind, so good, so very anxious to show her that he would understand perfectly if she refused his offer. Uncle Henry obviously wanted her to make his old friend happy; and she wanted to please everyone.
She took a delight in seeing that Mr. Weld did not exert himself. This pleased and yet disturbed him. He enjoyed her attentions, but at the same time was aware that they stressed his age.
And one summer's day when Mr. Weld seemed to find the heat too much for him and she exerted her charming tyranny and insisted that he sit in the shade with her instead of going to ride, she thought he seemed a little sad and she mentioned this.
He said: "There is only one thing that makes me sad, Maria. It is because I am not twenty years younger."
"Why should that make you sad? The young are often very foolish."
"It makes me sad because I am not your age. Then I could ask you to marry me and if you said yes I should no longer have any reason to be sad."
"You might ask me to marry you," she told him severely, "which is something you have not done yet, although you have spoken to my uncle and my parents on this matter. Perhaps if you were to ask me ..."
A look of great joy came into his face.
"Maria," he said, "will you marry me?"
"But certainly I will," answered Maria; and she laughed with pleasure to see his joy.
Edward Weld was delighted with his marriage; as soon as Maria had agreed he had hurried on the ceremony and Walter and Mary Smythe congratulated themselves that their eldest child had done very well. With little effort and no expense they had arranged for her an advantageous union, for at eighteen years old she was comfortably settled; her home was a castle; her husband was rich and indulgent and most important of all a Catholic.
As for Maria, she was very happy. It was gratifying to know that she could make her husband so happy; he delighted in showing her off to his friends and there were frequent house-parties at Lulworth Castle. Maria quickly learned to become a good hostess; the poise she had acquired in France was an additional asset and she could converse with the grace and ease of a much older person; and as she matured a little she grew even more beautiful.
Edward Weld could not do enough for her. Her portrait must be painted. He must always be able to see Maria as she was during this first year of marriage. He would have her painted beside him. There was a picture of him in the castle hall in which he was portrayed with his first wife, and as there was room to paint in Maria on the other side of him this was done. He was delighted with the result and whenever he came into the hall he would stand for a few moments looking at himself with the two women on either side of him, but his eyes would linger on Maria.
Then he decided that Maria should have a portrait to herself and he summoned Gainsborough to Lulworth.
When the artist arrived he was delighted by the beauty of the sitter but a little surprised that she wore her hair in its natural state. He commented on this.
"Madam, the ladies of the Court wear wigs or powder their hair."
"Do they indeed, Mr. Gainsborough?" reported Maria. "I do not."
Mr. Gainsborough could not hide his dismay, for this portrait would not look like those which he was accustomed to painting. It was clear that he wished his sitter would make some concession to fashion.
Maria had spirit, her husband was not displeased to note. He liked to see a little fire in his goddess; she quite clearly had not taken to Mr. Gainsborough; but he was surprised when after the first sitting she came to him, her eyes flashing with an indignation he had never seen before.
"Would you believe it, Edward, that man has given me a grey wig!"
Edward went lo sec the portrait and it was true that Gainsborough had sketched in her curly hair with grey impaste.
The next day, however, Maria told Mr. Gainsborough that she had no intention of giving him another sitting. The painter shrugged his shoulders; he would be paid for what he had done and there were many people more important than Mrs. Weld of Lulworth who were asking for his services.
"Why," said Mr. Weld, as the artist drove away from the castle, "what a determined young person you are to be sure!"
Maria laughed. "Was I right, Edward, in thinking that you wished for a portrait of your devoted wife?"
"You were indeed."
"Well, I was determined that you should have that or nothing. Do you imagine I wished Mr. Gainsborough to present you with some Court beauty who bore no resemblance to her whom you have honoured with your name."
Edward smiled fondly.
"We'll find an artist who will give me exactly what I want— which is my own Maria."
Edward Weld was forty-five—not a great age certainly, but since he did not enjoy good health it occurred to him that the time had come for him to make sure that in the event of his death Maria would inherit all he had, for if he did not make a new will the castle and everything he possessed would go to his brother Thomas.
He therefore took the first opportunity of going to see his lawyers and instructing them to draft a new will which was to be brought to the castle at the earliest opportunity.
This was done and delivered at the castle for his signature. He could not resist telling Maria what he had done, so he sent one of the servants to her room and asked her to come to him in the library.
She came in a riding habit of a most elegant cut, for another thing Maria had learned in France was how to dress to advantage, and as ever Edward was deeply conscious of her beauty.