‘I thank you for you advice! But I do not think …’
‘Whatever is the matter? Do you dislike Mr Lomax?’
‘He is a very pleasant gentleman, but …’
‘Well then, it is decided.’ She turned back again – this time with real concern in her eyes. ‘I have been very worried about you of late and I am sure marriage will be the best way of securing your future happiness.’ She was too well-bred to allude to the sinking of Charles’s bank, the consequent loss of income to the Kent family – and Dido’s residence in her sister-in-law’s household. But there could be no doubting that it was all very much in her mind. ‘It is a very eligible match, and I mean to do my utmost to promote it. I shall insist that he attends our All Hallows ball, and make him dance with you. And, while he is here, I shall talk to him particularly about your sense and economy.’
Dido sighed inwardly. Why, after a woman turned thirty, must ‘economy’ become her greatest recommendation? It had such a very unappealing sound. Not that she wished to appeal to Mr Lomax, she reminded herself hastily. But, nonetheless, it was mortifying to be accorded such dull praise.
They had come a little out of the village now to a place where the lane crossed a brook in a shallow, noisy ford and, to one side, a single plank gave passage for pedestrians. Beyond the stream, a path wound down through coppiced hazel trees to Woodman’s Hollow where a thin streak of smoke could be seen rising from ragged grey thatch. Anne took the basket into her own hands and stepped onto the bridge, but did not immediately hurry away to distribute advice, broth, linen and disapproval to the unfortunate family in the cottage. It would seem she had something further to say.
‘The fact is, Dido, we must act quickly over Mr Lomax, or I fear we shall lose him to another woman.’
‘Another woman? Do you believe he is paying attentions to another woman?’ The question came out a great deal more sharply than it should have done.
‘No. But I rather fear that other women may begin to pay attentions to Mr Lomax. For he may soon become much more eligible than he has been.’
‘I am not quite sure I understand you.’
‘Well, you may know that he is encumbered with a very dissolute son who seems bent upon spending all his father’s money.’
‘Yes,’ said Dido. ‘I have met Mr Tom Lomax.’ It was not an experience which she wished to repeat. And, since she had once succeeded in thwarting the young man in a particularly unpleasant, but profitable, scheme, she did not doubt that the feeling was mutual.
‘The existence of the son,’ continued Anne briskly, ‘has, I know, deterred many women who would otherwise have found the father very agreeable indeed.’
‘Ah,’ said Dido. The notion of other women finding Mr Lomax agreeable was surprisingly disagreeable. ‘But,’ with a great effort at indifference, ‘what is the change? Am I to suppose that Mr Tom Lomax has undergone a revolution in character?’
‘No, but he has undergone a revolution in fortune. It seems his father may soon be rid of him. I had it in a letter from town this morning that Tom Lomax looks set to become engaged – to a woman with twenty thousand pounds.’
‘Oh!’
‘Dido, are you unwell?’
‘No, no I am perfectly well. Just a little tired from all the walking I have done this morning.’ But all the heat had drained suddenly from her face and her legs were weak. She sat down hurriedly on the end of the bridge.
‘Well then,’ said Anne, ‘I shall leave you to rest and be about my business, for I have a great deal to do. But, remember, we must act quickly before news of Mr Tom’s match gets abroad and other women begin to make a play for his father. And, Dido, please,’ she added with one last critical look as she crossed the stream, ‘give a little thought to your appearance. An unmarried woman must pay attention to her appearance if she would make a match. It is a principle of mine …’ Her voice trailed away through the hazel thicket and Dido was left alone with the chatter of the water and her own thoughts.
It was alarming how very significant this news of Tom’s prospects appeared. Why should it matter? It was true that once she had looked forward to just such a prosperous marriage for the son as the surest route to happiness for the father – and for herself. But that had been before their disagreement at Richmond. For many months now she had considered her own curiosity, Mr Lomax’s unbending disapproval, and the fear of horrible marital discord as much greater barriers to their union than the debts of his son.
So why, she demanded of herself as she watched the yellow leaves drift and twist upon the water, why should the prospect of Mr Lomax unshackled and free to marry take the breath from her body and the strength from her legs? Could it be that her resolve to refuse him was faltering?
It must not. That was her immediate thought – for there could be only one cause of the change and that was the wretched alteration in her own circumstances.
In the summer, as a free woman, with a home of her own, she had refused him. And was she now, wretched and dependent, to accept him? No. If she did, she would know that her motives were base. And, in addition to all the misery of conjugal disharmony, she would suffer the pain of despising herself as weak and mercenary.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Harriet,’ said Dido reluctantly. ‘I have promised Lucy that I will speak to you on her behalf.’
The scene, she thought, had better be got over quickly and this was as fair an opportunity as any she was likely to have. The abbey was very quiet just now. The gentlemen were all gone out shooting, the little girls were in the nursery, young Georgie was at his Latin lesson with Mr Portinscale, and Mrs Harman-Foote had not yet returned from Woodman’s Hollow. So Dido had come to sit awhile with Harriet and her patient.
Outside, the morning had turned dark and rain was pattering on the windows; but within the bedchamber everything was pleasant and comfortable. There was a good log fire in the grate and lavender had been burnt upon it to cleanse the air. A jug of pale pink roses stood upon a dark oak chest, and Harriet was sitting upon the window seat beside it, her head, in its all-engulfing cap, bent over her tambour frame. In the wide bed Penelope was sleeping peacefully – a half-smile on her lips – as if the book, just slipping from her fingers, had amused her and was now supplying very pleasant dreams.
‘Your sister,’ said Dido looking earnestly across at Harriet, ‘wishes me to … plead Captain Laurence’s cause.’
Harriet gave a start. Her hand went to her mouth. ‘He has made an offer to Lucy!’
‘No, not quite. But she seems determined that he will. And I am commissioned to tell you that it will break her heart if you oppose their union.’
‘Oh dear!’ Harriet sighed heavily, but showed no particular sign of jealousy. She put a hand to her brow. ‘I had hoped,’ she said, ‘that if Lucy was out of the house … Out of sight out of mind, you know. I hoped … Well, I hoped the hare would run another way, as the saying goes.’ Her eyes strayed to the bed and its sleeping occupant.
‘Yes,’ confessed Dido, ‘I too thought he would choose Penelope.’
‘And she thinks it still,’ said Harriet drily. ‘And there she lies her silly head just full of the navy! Do but look at what she has been reading.’
Dido stepped to the bed and looked at the book in Penelope’s hand. ‘The Navy List?’ she cried. ‘I would not have thought that provided much entertainment for an invalid!’