"I am not shocked, Alan," she said finally, shaking her head. "You would have to speak much plainer to rival anything I've heard in what passes for genteel conversation in the Indies. I must tell you, I was pained to recognize you leaving her gate. I would not like to think that your talk of true love and your eagerness to pay court to Lucy was a fraud, based on mercenary designs on the Beauman guineas."
This mort reads me like an open book! he thought.
"As you said yourself, one must always consider the family as well as the young lady," Alan said, scooting his chair up closer to the table for more intimacy for his confession. "I have no lands, no rents, and I'd be a fool to think Lucy and I could live on moonbeams. But with Lucy's portion, and my inheritance, the land could come, and I can't deny that the thought of what is necessary to keep her in her proper station hasn't crossed my mind. I don't want to sound harsh, but reality has a way of being harsh. I'd not even persist if I had no hopes of providing for her. And you mustn't doubt the depth of feeling I hold for Lucy!"
"I love her dearly as well," Anne relented. "So you must see my concern that she isn't fooled and her heart broken by someone who cares more for her dowry than her feelings. No, I don't doubt your affection for her, and I'm sure she has high regard for you as well, though it will be years before she may realize… I just don't want to see her hurt, that's all, Alan. Nor would I wish to see you hurt."
"So you are saying I should not aspire to too much too soon?" Alan asked, frankly puzzled by her statement, and her sad look. "Or is there something else I should know? A serious rival?"
"Just that you should learn to be patient," Anne said with an expression that was close to misery, and their hands found each other again in unspoken sympathy, and this time her fingers wrapped around his firmly. "And don't close yourself off from all the other young ladies you may encounter in the time you have to wait. I don't say you should behave without license, but you have time to be sure of your feelings and your desires before committing yourself. Once wed, it's not a thing one may change. If one makes a mistake, one has to make the best of it, even if it's sometimes unpleasant."
He gave her fingers a squeeze in commiseration, and she responded with a firm grip on his. "I'm sorry you didn't get what you wanted, or what you thought you'd have, Anne."
"What?" she snapped, almost jerking free of him. "Certainly not!"
"You sounded so bitter before. I thought you spoke from experience," he told her softly. She was trying to tell him something, and he didn't know quite what she meant; a warning that he was wasting his time with Lucy for some unknown reason, and telling him to spare himself some future pain? That he would never be truly considered for Lucy's hand? Whatever it was, he was grateful to her for trying to express herself. And he felt a flash of sympathy for her, married to Hugh Beauman, who had not been her true choice, it seemed, if he read her hints correctly. And then she had found comfort with that Captain Mclntyre, or so Mrs. Hillwood said. Had she been ready to run off and leave Hugh Beauman for him before he died? She was a proper lady, not given to aimless amours for the sake of amusement or quick gratification, a woman with two children to think about, and a place in society she would lose. She must have been deeply in love, he decided.
"Not bitter, Alan," she finally said after a long silence. "I am content. I'm sorry if I gave you a wrong impression. I thank you for your kind intentions, but they aren't necessary, though I think more of you now for saying what you did. There's more to you than I first thought. The girl who gets you shall be lucky, if she knows how to keep you interested."
"The right girl wouldn't have much trouble, if I let my heart rule, instead of my brain. Too much pondering is bad for you."
"And too little, dear sir, is just as bad." She grinned quickly. "Now, I'm sure your captain has need of your talents, and I must be on my way home. And when next I see Lucy, I shall praise you to the skies, if you are certain in your affections."
"Praise away!" Alan laughed and rose to dig into his coin purse for the reckoning. "With such an ally, how could I worry? If you will keep me current with what the Beaumans think of me."
"I shall," she promised. "And should you wish to discuss the progress of your suit with someone who truly likes you, you have but to drop me a note, and I shall make time for you. Feel free to call on me at any time should you have need."
He walked her out to her carriage and handed her in.
It was only after he was ensconced in "The Grapes" near the cold fireplace with a pint mug of beer at his lips that he thought again about what implications Anne Beauman had left unsaid. Surely, Lucy was daft about him. But what had she meant by describing Lucy's feelings as only "high regard"? Anne had warned him off Betty Hillwood, but had left the barn door wide open should he find someone else to dally with, as long as his intentions were sure, had practically shoved him into sampling what the wide world had to offer before he made his final choice and gave up his freedom.
Oh, surely not, Alan thought. She couldn't be suggesting that she and I… Lewrie, you're cunt-struck! If they smile at you, you want to put the leg over right then-it don't signify they want you. Best put that thought out of your lust-maddened little mind. Let's not try to bull every bit of mutton in the entire Christian world! Besides being related to Lucy, Anne's a real lady, no matter how unhappy her marriage is.
If ladies were willing, Alan Lewrie would be the first in line to alleviate their unhappiness. He had almost cut his milk-teeth on the ones who cast about for comfort and pleasure, but to work at seducing a properly respectable woman who had no mutual wish to initiate an affair had always struck him as a caddish deceit. Damnit all, he thought, I've some scruples, don't I? (Hell, maybe I really do, after all.) Why ruin a lady's reputation, and get an angry husband chasing me with pistol or sword, when there's battalions of 'em trailing their colors, just waiting for a rake like me to give 'em the eye? Not Anne-she's not one to give anyone a tumble or two and then walk away. Nor is Lucy, bless her. Right, I've had my fun for now. Let's do up our breeches and keep 'em done up, Lewrie lad. No more Betty Hillwood, no thoughts of Anne. Concentrate on Lucy.
The decision made him feel more grown up, more in control of his urges and his choices in life, though he doubted he would remain a celibate, but that was a different matter. And as he finished his beer, he could congratulate himself that he was finally becoming an adult with a clearer idea of what he wanted in life.
Chapter 5
"Jesus Christ!" he breathed, as he read the note again. More to the point: notes. One from Lucy:
I noe nott wat Cusstoms are in yur circels back home in London, but imagin howe distressed I was to lern from a Sorse who shal remane name-less that a yung man I thought werthy of my Love coud make sutch shameless and lood Advanses to my own estima vertuus Sister-in-law Anne!! I never herd the like of howe yu Carreed On with her in Publick to yur everlasting Shame and the Ruenashun of her Good Name!
Mine eys are nowe opend to wat sort of Corinthian yu reely are, and I must say, it braks my Hart to think I wuns consi thought we wood one day be congoy Mareed!
There was much more in the same vein (some of it indecipherable, of course), suitably tear-stained, but the meat of the missive was that she never wanted to see or hear from him again, and would be sorry when brother Hugh put him in the cold ground for dallying with his wife.
"But I didn't do anything!" Alan ranted in the semi-privacy of his cabin. "God Almighty, for the first time in my life, I'm almost innocent!"