a companion if you insisted.”
“Hester, I wouldn’t even dream of passing on such a ridiculous notion to your father. And if I did he would laugh it out of court! It’s our duty to see you safely married, and a London Season is the best way of doing it.” She looked appraisingly at her daughter. “You could be quite a good-looking girl, if you would only make the effort. Your dowry, I know, is not large, but there must be someone somewhere who would want to marry you!”
This was too much for Hester’s very ready sense of humour. Her mouth twitched as she said demurely, “Why thank you, Mama! A widower, perhaps, with six children and a wooden leg? He might just be persuaded to take me on.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, as you very well know. You are a wicked girl to tease me so. But an older man might be the answer?”
Hester was instantly serious again. “No, Mama! I do not wish for a husband of any kind—old, young, widowed, single, decrepit, healthy…To put it absolutely plainly, I do not want to marry anyone.”
Lady Perceval looked helplessly at her daughter. “But why, Hester?”
“Because I don’t believe there’s anyone in the world whom I could respect, and who would be willing to treat me in return as someone capable of rational thought! The polite world is singularly lacking in such men. At least it was six years ago, and I cannot suppose things have changed very much since then. In my experience gentlemen in London only want a pretty face to pay empty compliments to, a graceful partner to dance and flirt with, a…a mirror to tell them in return how witty, how handsome, how elegant they are. And I daresay when they eventually condescend to marry some poor girl, they will treat her like…like a piece of furniture—there to provide an heir and manage the household, while they go their selfish, masculine way, hunting, fishing, shooting and gambling into the night.”
“Hester! Stop, stop! That’s quite enough of your nonsense. I won’t allow you to say such things when your father is everything that is kind and considerate—you know he is! What other father would allow you to do very much as you please here in Abbot Quincey? Many another would have married you off to some country squire long before now. As it is, he has always respected your wish to live quietly with your books. He is even proud of your work in sorting your grandpapa’s papers. He is taking us to London mainly because he honestly believes—as I do—that you would be happier with an establishment and family of your own. We wish to find a husband for you before it is too late.”
“Papa is an exceptional man, Mama, and I admit he has been very patient with me—”
“Well then,” said Lady Perceval, “why don’t you please him—and me—by overcoming your reluctance for another London Season?”
“That wouldn’t guarantee a husband for me! Men don’t find women like me attractive, Mama. I don’t have to remind you of what happened six years ago—you were there.”
Lady Perceval shuddered. “I was,” she replied with feeling.
“The so-called gentlemen made fun of me! I may have been inept and…and, yes, stupid! But they were so unkind! They made no effort to understand. They couldn’t believe that a woman might want to ask questions or debate issues which went beyond the cut of a sleeve or who was whose latest flirt.” She frowned, then shrugged her shoulders and smiled wryly. “I was foolish to try. The last thing they wanted to do was to be required to think.”
“I’ve always felt that a lot of the blame was mine, my dear. You were very young. Hugo always advised against taking you straight from Mrs Guarding’s Academy into the fashionable world, and he was right. You weren’t prepared for it.”
“Mrs Guarding is a wonderful woman. I…”
“I know about Mrs Guarding’s advanced views on educating young women. She may be a wonderful teacher, but her ideas do not exactly prepare girls for success in society! You were stuffed full of half-digested notions of saving the world. Praiseworthy, no doubt, but hardly appropriate for the drawing-rooms of the Ton. And then the scandal with Lord Canford ruined everything—”
Hester shuddered. “Please don’t, Mama! If you only knew what that episode did to my self-esteem!”
“I do know! You didn’t have a chance after that. I was never so shocked in all my life as when I heard how Canford had behaved at the Sutherlands’ ball. Thank heaven Hugo was there to rescue you!”
“He may have saved me from Canford’s attentions, but he didn’t exactly spare my feelings afterwards—especially when the noble lord aired his grievance to anyone who cared to listen.” A giggle escaped her. “Mind you, Canford had some cause. If he really believed I had encouraged him, it must have come as a shock when I emptied the glass of wine over him. His coat was ruined. What he must have felt when Hugo came in and caught him chasing me round the room…!”
“I am surprised Canford had so much vitality. He must have been sixty if he was a day!”
“He had a quite remarkable turn of speed. And then Hugo got caught in Canford’s walking stick and they both came down. Thank God neither was badly hurt. The scandal would have been even greater if such a prominent member of the aristocracy had been lamed for life by my brother! But Canford limped away quite nimbly in the end. Soaked in wine and cursing.” There was a pause. Then Hester added, “Looking back now, it was a relief that you were more or less forced to bring me back to Northamptonshire afterwards…I had had enough of London, and Hugo had certainly had enough of me.”
“He was disappointed that his efforts to launch you had failed so disastrously. He suffered too, Hester.”
“My dear Mama, Hugo was far more concerned about his own dignity than he was about my reputation. I’d apparently let him down in front of…in front of…his friends.”
“I’m sure he had forgotten that Dungarran was there when he gave you such a dressing-down. He would never normally have done such a thing in front of anyone else.”
“You believe not?”
“I am sure he wouldn’t. It was most unfortunate. You haven’t really been friends with him since, have you, my dear?”
“No. And he comes so seldom to Abbot Quincey now, that there’s never an opportunity for us to put things right. Lowell is here quite often, but Hugo never comes.”
Lady Perceval said firmly, “Hugo is like every other young man of his age—he enjoys life in society. He’ll come when he is ready—you’ll see. He’s thirty in July, and that’s when he always said he would settle down.”
“He was so unkind to me! But I miss him, all the same. We were good friends when we were young…” Hester got up, went to the window and gazed at the peaceful scene outside without really seeing it. There was a silence. Then she added bitterly, “Is it so surprising that I never want to see London again?”
Lady Perceval sighed. “I am sure things will be different now,” she said persuasively. “Canford died two years ago. And memories are short.”
“Perhaps. But men still like pretty faces, and dainty, appealing ways in the young women they marry. They don’t look for argument or debate. Well, I have never been either pretty or dainty. I’m too tall. And now I’m six years older and my bloom, such as it was, has faded. And, worst of all, though I’ve lost my passion to change the world, I still enjoy using the brains the Lord gave me in a good argument.” Hester
