Love or Title: The Colchester Sisters Read online

  Chapter 9

  It was a great relief to Esme when dinner at Longton Hall not only began in a very welcoming and easy manner but continued in that vein throughout.

  The Marquis had done everything in his power to make her parents, her brother, and her sisters, truly welcomed and at their ease from the very beginning. He had been bright and engaging, keen to talk hunting and riding with Amos and even a little estate management with her father.

  And Lady Longton, entirely comforted by her son’s fine behavior was kinder and sweeter than ever, relishing in her new acquaintances and clearly hoping that she might one day call them friends.

  “Your estate might be smaller as you say, Mr. Colchester, but all the same matters must be attended to, must they not?” Daniel Winsford said as they sat around the enormous dinner table. “There are still staff to attend to, grounds and maintenance to be arranged, accounts to be done. In truth, I do not think your task any smaller than mine, Sir.”

  Esme was pleased that the Marquis had chosen to engage her father in such a way. It was a far cry from her first visit to Longton Hall and she was certainly pleased that her father had not seen the Marquis less than admirable behavior at Berkeley Hall. Although she had accepted his explanation on matters of health, she was certain that her father would not be quite so forgiving had he any idea of the little upset she had experienced along the way.

  Esme caught an expression on Lady Longton’s face and realized that it was one of contentment. Perhaps that fine woman truly thought Esme might one day be a suitable bride for her beloved son. Surely, she was a great factor in it all, keen to invite the Colchester family into their home and to maintain her burgeoning friendship with Esme’s mother.

  And so, Esme allowed herself a little daydreaming at the dinner table, looking around the immense dining hall and imagining herself there as the mistress of the house.

  And as far as Lady Longton had explained it, this was the smallest of three dining halls in that fine mansion. Lady Longton had chosen it for its more intimate setting, leaving Esme wondering just how large the largest of the three dining halls might be.

  This room was easily three times the size of their dining room back home and the furniture and decoration were immaculate.

  The dining table was long and would easily seat twenty people, although their own settings had been spaciously arranged towards one end to maintain that intimacy Lady Longton had spoken of.

  The ceilings were so high that their voices echoed a little. Although it was a little disconcerting at first, Esme had very quickly become accustomed to it. Surely, life in such a fine place as Longton Hall would require that she got used to such things. High ceilings, large rooms, and echoes were all part and parcel of moving up in the world.

  After dinner, the party retired to the drawing room where little conversations broke out here there and everywhere. Mr. and Mrs. Colchester were handed glasses of brandy and shown about the large drawing room by the Marquis himself who pointed out various portraits and explained who each and every one of them were.

  Jane and Verity were in discussion with Lady Longton, largely about the extensive grounds and some more in-depth points of botany. Esme smiled to herself, wondering how Verity had managed to turn their little conversation scientific. But Lady Longton, gracious as always, looked utterly enthralled with her younger sister and Esme began to feel truly at home.

  This was what life was supposed to be when a young woman was embarking upon the road to marriage. That her family should get along with his was surely one of the more important aspects of the thing. And seeing how well they did get along gave her more and more confidence that her acquaintanceship with the Marquis of Longton was very soon going to become a courtship.

  “I really was very pleased to hear that you were coming here tonight, Miss Colchester.” Lady Rachel, who had remained sweetly quiet throughout dinner, took her arm and led her to the same couch she had sat on the first time she had been to Longton Hall.

  “And I am very pleased to see you again, Lady Rachel,” Esme said, feeling a little embarrassed.

  After all, Lady Rachel had witnessed the humiliation at Lord Berkeley’s ball and in remembering it, Esme could almost feel it once again.

  “I had hoped to spend a little more time with you at the summer ball, my dear, but I understand entirely why you chose not to return to our little party.” Lady Rachel looked a little ashamed which somehow stopped Esme’s own sense of shame in its tracks. “I hope you do not think too badly of me.”

  “Of you, Lady Rachel? No, of course not. Why on earth should I?”

  “For being in company with the dreadful Burton sisters for one thing.” Lady Rachel winced. “To this day I do not understand why it is my cousin keeps company with Michael Burton and those appalling girls. They are extremely wealthy, one of the wealthiest families in England I would imagine, but their manners leave a lot to be desired. It is as if they think their great wealth allows them anything at all, even the right to be rude to others. They think themselves very clever and amusing, although I think they are anything but.”

  “I share your opinion of them, Lady Rachel, but I do not blame you for their behavior,” Esme said and realized the time had come to show her gratitude for Lady Rachel’s efforts on that night. “In fact, I must thank you for the way you tried to comfort me. It was not lost on me for a moment and I really was very grateful.”

  “I feel I should have been a little more forceful,” Lady Rachel said, not ready to forgive herself.

  “Not at all, you were perfectly comforting.”

  “I suppose it was not my place to be forceful on the matter, but rather my cousin’s.”

  “Oh yes, he has explained himself and apologized,” Esme said in a whisper, not wanting the Marquis to overhear her explaining his apology to anybody. After all, he would surely be offended by her giving away such a confidence. “And I understand entirely that he was feeling dreadfully unwell that night.

  “Unwell?” Lady Rachel said with quiet disbelief. “Forgive me, Miss Colchester, but my cousin was in perfect health that night and every other since.”

  “Oh, I see,” Esme said, feeling embarrassed again.

  “Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Miss Colchester, but I would like to say that you should be somewhat cautious with my cousin.” Lady Rachel’s large brown eyes slid slowly across the room to settle on her cousin as if she wanted to be sure he could not hear her.

  “Cautious?” Esme said, lowering her voice to a whisper also.

  “I know he is my cousin and I ought to defend him robustly, but I know him well enough to know that he can be a capricious man, even a little cruel at times. He has been raised by his father to be a most entitled person. But his mother, who is my mother’s sister, is such a sweet and warm human being that he has been touched by her influence also. Yet I am afraid that the result is that his moods swing quite markedly at times and it is not a pleasant thing for another person to have to endure.” Lady Rachel’s cheeks flushed a little. “You do seem like such a nice young woman, Miss Colchester, that I felt I should say something.”

  “Well, it is very kind of you to be so caring, Lady Rachel.” Although Esme was hearing the very thing she did not wish to hear, she could not think ill of Lady Rachel for saying it.

  There was an aspect of goodness about that woman which could not be denied and even if she were entirely mistaken about the whole thing, still, Esme knew that she had only spoken out of kindness.

  Perhaps Lady Rachel did not know her cousin as well as she thought. After all, Esme hardly knew her own cousins well enough to claim their characters.

  And there was a fair gap in the age too, with Lady Rachel being certainly in her middle thirties. With more than ten years between them, surely, they would never have been friends in childhood. Perhaps she truly was mistaken in her cousin’s character.

  Esme looked up when she perceived the Marquis and her parents approaching, ready to settle themselves
down on the chairs and couches and join herself and Lady Rachel.

  “I beg you would not say anything of this discussion to my cousin,” Lady Rachel said in a hurried whisper. “I am not seeking to cause trouble, only to be sure that you have the full facts before making any decisions.”

  “Of course, Lady Rachel,” Esme said and lightly patted her hand reassuringly. “And thank you kindly for your care.” She finished before looking up to smile at the Marquis.

  Chapter 10

  Esme lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling. She had left the heavy velvet curtains in her chamber just a little open. It was enough that a thin slice of moonlight fell across the foot of her bed and the rustling leaves from the trees outside her window played out a pretty little shadow pattern on the ceiling above.

  Her sisters had, quite naturally, spent a good hour in her chamber with her when they had returned from Longton Hall. They had both exclaimed what fine company the Marquis had been and had declared their admiration that he had shown so much respect and attention to their beloved father.

  And even Jane said that the Marquis had become a little more handsome because of it and Esme had smiled, thinking how easily Jane was tempted towards all that was good.

  But she had said nothing of her conversation with Lady Rachel, at least nothing of all that mattered. In many ways, she wished she had found something about that good woman to dislike, for she was finding it very hard to reconcile her kindness with the words she had spoken.

  Surely, she would not have said such things if they were not true. And had she not witnessed a little something of the Marquis’ mood swings for herself? But Esme wondered if, should that be the extent of it, she might actually be able to cope well with a man such as Daniel Winsford.

  Perhaps if it happened in future, she would not be so shocked by it. Perhaps she would learn to take it in her stride.

  And then she was reminded of the words of the mysterious Mr. George Wentworth. His suggestion that she might well think any behavior acceptable if there was a good match to be had at the end of it.

  In returning to the little scene outside the haberdashery, the scene she had not mentioned at all to her sisters, Esme wondered if the Marquis and Mr. Wentworth were somehow acquainted. But the Marquis had given no sign at all that he knew Mr. Wentworth at Lord Berkeley’s ball and so she could not imagine that they knew one another.

  And yet, had not George Wentworth’s words been a rougher version of Lady Rachel’s? Did he know something of the Marquis which had led him to interfere at every opportunity?

  How funny that she still thought of Mr. Wentworth as interfering rather than intervening. For in the end, what right did a perfect stranger have to intervene? And in such cases, was that intervention not interference after all?

  Esme laughed to herself in the silvery darkness. What a thing to deliberate upon when there was so much else of importance to think about.

  It had been such a strange night; one in which she had come leaps and bounds further towards her dream of the perfect union, and yet one of such disturbing revelations.

  Esme thought of all her encounters with the Marquis of Longton and realized that they had been more pleasant than not. Even when they had first gone to afternoon tea and he had been reticent, he had cheered towards the end and made light conversation with her, even smiling. In truth, it was only the ugly scene at Lord Berkeley’s summer ball which had given her any true cause for concern. And even then, she was sure that none of it was the Marquis’ doing. As Lady Rachel had rightly pointed out, Michael Burton and his dreadful sisters were just that; dreadful.

  But surely it was unwise on the part of the Marquis to keep company with such people, even if they were extraordinarily wealthy. What was money when there were no manners, no true class?

  And even if they were wealthy, they did not hail from such a fine old home as the Marquis, and Michael Burton did not enjoy a title of any kind.

  She could hardly see the point of the Marquis’ continued friendship with such people, unless the fact was that he truly liked them.

  Esme shuddered in the darkness, wondering what she should do. Being in Longton Hall had been like a fairy-tale to her, complete with a handsome prince and the promise of happiness for the rest of her life. And how welcome she would be with such a mother-in-law as Lady Longton! Even when the Marquis was in low spirits, surely, there would be comfort to be had in the company of such a fine and nurturing woman.

  Once again, Esme was trying to talk herself into a life she was not entirely sure she wanted. But if she did not want it, what of all the years of careful study of the way of things? All her years of self-imposed strict adherence to the rules of society, the laws of etiquette? Were they to be wasted? Had she been so wrong?

  And then she thought once again of George Wentworth. His seemingly rough manners, his interference without introduction. The way he offended her and laughed at her for her determination to live the very best life.

  He seemed to represent the very opposite of everything she had worked towards. And yet she could not help but think about him, could not help but wonder who exactly he was and, better still, why it was he kept appearing in her life.

  Chapter 11

  George Wentworth did what he could to remain in the shadows, but he was finding it increasingly difficult given that the Earl of Melton’s tree-shrouded lawns were lit by so many bright lanterns.

  They hung everywhere, from trees, from statues, and there were even great torches staked into the grounds to shed light on the warm summer’s evening.

  It was something of an exciting departure from the normal run of events he attended. The Earl of Melton did enjoy a theatrical and quite often had his own family and friends put something together to lay on for the county. But this time he had gone a step further, employing the services of a traveling group of actors to put on a play outside.

  The Earl’s extensive staff had done a very good job of setting out enough seating and in such a way that they had turned the neat and enormous lawn into an outdoor theatre.

  But George chose not to sit down when the time came, backing away a little from the crowd and watching the theatrical action whilst leaning heavily against one of the only trees which did not bear a lantern.

  He had, of course, disappointed many people with his reluctance to be at the center of things. But that was the way when he was at home in Buckinghamshire; George was always the center of things, even in another man’s house.

  That was what was so appealing about Hertfordshire; if he crossed deep enough into it, the vast majority of people did not know who he was. His friends there knew well enough to introduce him quite simply as Mr. George Wentworth. And Hertfordshire was where his real friends were, those who did not seek to elevate their own status by introducing him so fully.

  Buckinghamshire, on the other hand, was quite a different thing altogether. That was where everybody knew him by sight, everybody knew who he was. And everybody who invited him to an event did so to increase their own standing in the towns and villages of that fine county.

  And at every event, George found himself doing everything in his power to politely avoid the attentions of young ladies whose only want in life was their idea of marital success.

  George found his train of thought interrupted as the action on the makeshift alfresco stage had become more frenetic and just a little too loud. The actors were bounding this way and that, every movement they made exaggerated and every word they uttered seeming like a bellow to him.

  Ordinarily, he knew that he would have enjoyed it. Even leaning against his tree and a little out of things, George would have allowed himself to be entirely immersed in the little performance, exclaiming with the rest, completely enthralled.

  But he had found himself more irritated than usual that night to have been pursued by not one but three young ladies and their extraordinarily determined fathers. He knew all the fathers as acquaintances, of course, but each and every one of them had sp
oken to him in a confidential way, as a true friend might.

  And each only to secure his own aims. Three fathers so keen to have their daughters raise their status in the world that they cared nothing for George’s feelings on the matter. It was as if the whole world thought that nothing more than the appearance of suitability was of any consequence, and yet George was certain that it ought to be different. It was different, if that was what he chose it to be.

  But as he leaned against the tree, not caring what the rough bark was doing to the back of his expensively tailored coat, George realized that he was in pursuit of the very sort of young lady he had always thought himself to despise.

  For there was no denying that Miss Esme Colchester had very firm views on what made a man suitable in the marriage arena. It was the only explanation he could find for her determined defense of the young Marquis who had been so unforgivably rude to her. She had seen a man who had not defended her honor or spared her humiliation and she had chosen to overlook it.

  Was she not just the same as every other title hunting young lady he had ever encountered?

  But he was certain that she was not. She had attracted him from the very first with her vibrant red hair and that air about her which declared a little confidence that the woman herself did not even know she possessed. It was as if her spirit was constantly being denied by her experience of the world around her.

  The world around her demanded that she marry well; a man of wealth, title, importance. But perhaps her spirit did not see things that way. That little spark within her which held her head high even in the face of such adversity.

  She had not crumbled at all when the Marquis’ painful company had been so spiteful. She had not blushed or withered, and he had not heard her stutter. She simply stood demurely, her chin parallel to the ground, her green eyes giving nothing away of the feelings beneath.