"Yes, my pick of Englishmen," she grumbled, squeezing his hand in gratitude before she released him.
"Who holds the land in Ireland, girl? How do you think to regain Ireland if you dismiss the means to grab hold?" Lindley said.
She bit back a reply, forcing herself to consider. Lindley was surly and stubborn half the time, but he had made a valid point. It was beyond question, no matter how unpleasant the prospect, that she would marry an Englishman. Perhaps an Englishman could be found who had an Irish estate. He would, of necessity, remain in England most of the year, while she could live out her life in Ireland. He could come to visit. Or he could not. She would not demand his presence if only she could reside in Ireland again.
Ireland was home.
England, with her destructive policies and disregard for Irish ways, with her planting of British troops on Ireland 's soil, was the enemy. And all England 's men were English: arrogant and cold, proud and cruel. She understood them well by the soldiers sent to subdue the Irish. Albert was correct: she was English by birth, but her blood and her heart belonged to Ireland. What English husband would understand that?
"Stop scowling, Clarissa," Lindley admonished. "We have arrived."
It was true. The carriage slowed to a stop and the door was opened by a footman. Lindley exited first, followed by
Perry, who then turned to offer a hand to Clarissa. She hesitated, against her better judgment. She had few options. In truth, she had none. It was time to marry, and the only dignity left to her was to put a good face upon it and not disgrace herself or her family.
"'Tis not so bad, Clarissa, to come out into society. I would be much surprised if you did not enjoy yourself completely," Jane said by way of encouragement.
"I cannot disagree if it were only balls and parties and concerts to be enjoyed, but the goal of all the entertainment is to acquire a husband for myself."
"You will have your choice, my dear. None shall force a decision upon you," Jane said softly, taking her hand.
"You are correct in that, and I take what comfort I can in it," Clarissa said. She had to marry, but her brothers knew well enough that she would do her own choosing. "Perhaps 'twill not be so vexing if I can but remember that I do have a choice."
"Clarissa," Lindley called, clearly impatient. A choice she surely had, but Lindley was eager for her to make it.
Without another word to either bolster her courage or delay the inevitable, Clarissa stepped down from the carriage and walked up the steps into the brick town house on Grosvenor Street. Host and house had been amply prepared for a small gathering of twenty-five or so, all friends to greater or lesser degree of the host. Jane was an old friend of their hostess, Lady Morland, and it was to her good grace that Clarissa owed her invitation.
Good breeding required that she be polite anyway.
Lindley and Perry disappeared readily enough after being greeted by Lord and Lady Morland, leaving Clarissa and Jane and Lady Morland-or Fanny, as Jane called her-in an intimate conversation of three, two of whom were happily engaged in conversation, one of whom was pretending to be.
"A lovely gathering," Jane said to Fanny. "The candlelight looks so well against these walls. When did you repaint?"
"In the autumn," Fanny replied. "I found myself dismally bored with the green and chose this tawny gold instead, just for the warmth and light it seemed to offer."
"It is wonderful. Very daring," Jane said.
"I suppose I should confess, or perhaps it is obvious, that I chose the color after a month of cold rain and heavy cloud. I was yearning for the gleam of sunlight, I daresay."
"What nature will not provide, man must supply." Jane smiled. "Don't you think it a lovely color, Clarissa?"
"Yes, it is lovely. So… warm," Clarissa said. She did not care about the color of the walls.
The room was full of pleasant-looking people, fully half of them men, and perhaps six of them under thirty, excluding Perry and Lindley. Was she to choose from this random collection? And if so, how was she to go about making her choice? Age was one factor to be considered. She did not want a husband more than twice her age; the tendency would be for him to be rather fatherly, and she did not yearn for that characteristic in a husband.
"And how is your mother, Fanny? Has her cough abated? I have been most concerned about her."
"That is very kind of you, Jane. No, she is still weak and abed much of the day. I think a walk in the gardens would do much to clear her lungs, but the weather is so damp yet that it is not to be."
"Perhaps the weather will clear by Christmas," Jane said.
"Perhaps. In the interim, Dr. Spenser has prescribed a soothing tonic that has the added benefit of aiding her sleep. I think all will be well in time."
"Clarissa, what was it you drank when you suffered last winter from that sharp cough?"
"It was chamomile added to my tea that brought me some relief," Clarissa said quietly, forcing her eyes away from the corners of the room and the men who loitered there. It would not do to appear too forward; naturally all knew that she was looking for a husband, but to be blatant in her search would not put her in a good light. It would be a very tedious search if she had to practice such discretion week after week. She did hope to have the whole thing settled by the new year.
Across the room, loitering in a dimly lit corner, Lindley was aiding her in her search, though she could not know it.
"Did I not tell you? Such beauty you will rarely find," Lindley said softly.
"It is rare as well to find such eagerness on the part of a brother to rid himself of a sister," Beau answered.
"I do not rid myself of her, but rather encourage you to become a part of my family. I do not do so lightly," Lindley said stiffly.
Beau, known to most as Henry Wakefield, Lord of Montwyn, laughed and said, "Still more starch than sense, Walingford. I was jesting. She is a fine-looking woman, as you said."
And she was. Hair of bright auburn, skin pale and smooth as milk, eyes the dark brown of rich chocolate; she was a beauty. Shapely and of a good height, not as petite as the current fashion, but then, he had no desire for a small wife, fearing that carrying his babe and delivering herself of it might kill her. Too many women died so. He was a large-knit man and he wanted a wife he wouldn't dwarf.
"She is just come out, so the field may well be yours. If you do not hesitate," Lindley said.
"You are eager, aren't you?" Beau chuckled. "Well, the season is early and I do not fear a more protracted interlude before the rigors of matrimony. Do not mistake me," Beau said into Lindley's frown. "I am interested, particularly if her manner matches her look, for she does please the eye, and, of course, her family is impeccable." He smiled. "I will look and I will woo, if the mood strikes."
"Does one require a certain mood to obtain a wife?"
"No, but the mood for haste is certainly not upon me. I need a wife. Why not the sister of a friend? Yet there is time to enjoy the season and to undertake my introduction to your sister slowly."
"You are not the only man in London this season," Lindley said grimly.
"Nor is she the only woman. Come." Beau laughed lightly. "Let us not come to blows over this. I am taken with her. You spoke truly when you described her to me. Let it proceed as it will. By all that I can see, I will offer for her. But I will not be rushed to the altar, no matter how eager or fetching the maid."
Lindley kept his tongue firmly between his teeth so that Beau would not so soon know that Clarissa was anything but eager.
Jane was battling that knowledge at that precise moment.
"He is a rather handsome gentleman," Jane said softly into her glass, her observation for Clarissa's ears only. "A friend of Lindley's, by the look of it."