To Entice a Lord Part II

Is Annabelle getting any closer to enticing Lord Babbington?

While Charity was in a cloud of excitement about the upcoming evening at Squire Malacott’s, Annabelle had slightly different feelings.  Avery Malacott, squire of the county, justice of the peace, took his preeminence very seriously and was known to be a stickler for duty and the proper order of things.  His wife Leticia also knew her place, which she assumed to be higher than anyone else’s, especially the Bellmarshes, with whom they were once more intimately connected.  That was before Annabelle and her family had fallen on hard times.  After that, not that Leticia Malacott cut them.  She was everything that was civil, but her main concern of the moment was marrying off her own daughter Beatrice, who had both looks, position and a handsome dowry.

Years ago, when both children were in leading strings, Annabelle was considered a good match for the squire’s son Henry. That was before Bellmarsh pere made those unfortunate investments, resulting in loss of land and the loss of status.  Not that Annabelle felt rejected in any way.  She had no desire to be attached the squire’s family.  Such a situation would mean living in the Malacott manse, with her every action perused by Leticia, the squire’s wife.

If it weren’t incumbent upon her to make a good marriage, she might not marry at all.   She knew of so few marriages made for love, although, as her mother often said, love comes later.  But what if it doesn’t?

“Do get ready,” Charity broke into Annabelle’s thought.

Annabelle looked at her sister, dressed in a gown with just the hint of pink that brought out the color of her hair.  “You look delightful,” she told her sister.  “I especially like that ribbon in your hair.  So perfectly—”

“Yes, I know.  It so perfectly matches my dress,” Charity said a bit too sharply.  “I see no ribbon in your hair and the lace covering your bodice wouldn’t be exactly enticing to the male of the species, the ones we are trying to attract.  Furthermore, my dear sister, I believe I have seen that dress many many times before.  Are you trying to stress our lack of the ready?”

“I’m taking a backseat to your beauty, Charity,” Annabelle replied with a twinkle in her eye.  “For tonight you’re going to meet your future husband, unless Beatrice Malacott beats you to it.”

“Let her try.  She’ll only make me shine all the brighter by comparison.  But, honestly, Annabelle, don’t look as if you’ve given up.”

“But I have, in a way.  As far as marriage goes.  Someone must manage this estate until Percy returns.”

“Percy can hardly manage himself,” Charity retorted.  “Honestly, let the land go to rack and ruin.  You and I shall marry and move elsewhere.”  She gave that some thought.  “Of course, one of us will have to take Mother.  Ho hum.  A thought for another day.”

“I’m so glad you’re able to sort life out the way you have.  Brava, my dear sister.  But let us face facts.  Upon you will rest the fortunes of our family.  And as far as my dress, the only person the family wants to impress is James Forthwith, and he’s never seen any of our gowns.”

“Girls!”  Their mother called sharply from the stairway.  “The carriage awaits.  Remember the horses.”

The sisters looked at each other and giggled.  They’d have to indeed remember the horses as the stable was nearly empty.  “At least Mother can always wear widow’s weeds,” Charity whispered.  “That’ll save us some dosh.”

“Such cant, Charity.  Let us wrap ourselves warm and go chase your fortune.  Oops, I meant your future husband.”

——

“You could have bought me a commission in the Guards,” James Forthwith, newly appointed vicar of the Harleigh congregation, remarked.

“You read too many books to be in the Guards.  Nor do you have a predilection for gambling.  Also, I did promise Father to see you safe, make of you a gentleman, and that has been my aim.  Remember, our place in society is hardly established.”

“Not established in the establishment.” 

Jeremy Forthwith, the lately elevated Lord Babbington, grimaced in mock despair.  “You see, too clever with words.  That’s why you were sent up to Oxford.”

“While you stayed at home and had all the fun.”

“If running a stud farm along with our father can be considered fun.”

“But the way you ran it has made you a baron.”

Jeremy acknowledged that fact, although he never would tell James exactly why he was elevated to the “nobility,” a nobility their father always sneered at. 

Their father would have done well storming the Bastille, although most likely objecting to the terror that followed.  On the other hand, there were many lords their father would have liked to put an end to, those who waved away any mention of a bill for the Forthwith’s services.  Their attitude was always, well, what are you going to do about it, and what could he do?  Hobble the horses?  He loved horses much more than he loved people.  And in many ways Jeremy followed suit.

Still,  here he was, a baron and also a part of the moneyed class, something one couldn’t say for way too many of those to the manor born, which is why his land holdings increased.  Money bought land even if it didn’t buy respectability. 

Respectability is what his brother would have as vicar at Haleigh, and Jeremy was proud to be able to give him the living.  James would do well.  In sharp contrast to himself, James was blond, slight of frame and elegantly dressed.  He had a fine mind and finer manners.  But as a younger brother he could sometimes be a whiner.  Like now.  “I don’t really know if I’m cut out for the church.  Doesn’t it involve a lot of religion?”

“The church, like the army, like Parliament is mainly politics.  You really don’t have to believe in anything, as long as you say the right words, behave in the correct fashion, and make your way to the top.”

“So then, could you not have bought me a seat in Parliament?  I think I would have liked that.”

“As a Whig?  As a Tory?” his brother questioned.

“Well,” James replied quizzically.  “Does it really matter?”

Jeremy, Lord Babbington, studied his brother, with a wondering gaze.  Were all younger brothers so obtuse?  Perhaps.  “And also it would suit you to marry well, someone who could further your career.  Look for money and position in a wife, James.”

“Not love?”

“If you’ve followed  the lives of your favorite poets, you’ll know that marriage isn’t the only path to love.”

“And yet one hopes—”

“One hopes and then one turns to the practicalities of life.”

“But don’t we have enough money now that I could marry for love?” James wondered.

“I have enough money now that I could marry for love.  Should I be looking.  Which I am not.  For the moment.”

“More mysterious trips to France in the future?”

Jeremy thought it best not to answer.  Instead he concentrated on the night ahead, their first county affair, sort of their version of a come out.   So far he had been “not at home” to visitors, but such social isolation couldn’t last forever, unfortunately.  Not that he was against mingling, but usually his was done in London or on the race track, wherever his horses took him.  Still— “Shall we call for the carriage?”

“I don’t know why we can’t just ride our steeds over.”

“Because we’re gentlemen.  Tonight.”  Jeremy grinned at his brother.  “Now let’s go show them how forthwith the Forthwiths can be.”

Now it was James’s turn to groan.