then and I will write a second draft to you immediately upon his surety of her condition.’ Oswalt was all brusque business in spite of the intimacies of his contract.
Julia blanched at his coarse requirements. She stared directly at her uncle and was gratified to see that he wavered over such terms, but only slightly.
‘I can vouch for my niece’s chastity. I assure you that such indelicate proceedings are not needed.’ Uncle Barnaby coughed with embarrassment at such frank discussion.
Mortimer Oswalt shook his bald pate. ‘I must insist. I have not made a fortune in business dealings without making absolutely sure of the quality of my investment. Let me remind you, I will be sixty in November. My first two wives were unable to give me the heir I required. My medical advisers confirm that whatever prior difficulties have occurred in that area, a virgin wife would overcome those concerns. I must have an heir quickly. My bride must be of virgin stock and must be quite capable of conceiving and birthing a child in short order.’ He fixed Uncle Barnaby with an intimidating eye. ‘I will pay the family an extra five thousand pounds upon the birth of my child.’
Julia watched in horrified fascination as her uncle capitulated to the bribe. Well, she was not dazzled so easily.
‘I will not consider it!’ She stamped her foot for emphasis, making sure the men could not ignore her a second time. ‘Uncle, I cannot be married under duress. There are new laws. The Betrothal Act of 1823 allows people to marry out of free will.’ It was a weak appeal and she knew it. Legislation was only enforced when one had an advocate or the means to acquire one. She had neither.
Uncle Barnaby opened his mouth to scold, but Oswalt raised a hand to stall his reprimand. ‘Lockhart, allow me to explain it to her. She is to be my wife soon enough and must learn to take direction from her husband. Young women are a sheltered lot and must be tutored in the ways of the world.’
Julia fought the urge to cringe. It would be a cold day in hell before she took ‘direction’or anything else from the lecherous likes of Mortimer Oswalt. She struck a defiant pose, disgusted that Uncle Barnaby demurred.
Oswalt continued. ‘Miss Prentiss, the subtleties of this arrangement may have escaped your notice. Young ladies like yourself are often not aware of the rigours associated with maintaining the lifestyle you take for granted—the horses, the country home, the gowns, the entertainments and all the fal-lals a young woman expects as her right.
‘It is especially difficult to raise a beautiful girl like yourself since it is much more expensive to accommodate her needs. A lovely girl stands out. She cannot afford to be seen in the same gowns as a wallflower who isn’t noticed. A pretty girl must always be shown to her best advantage. In short, a lovely daughter or, in your case, a lovely niece, can become an asset to the family.
‘Your uncle has fallen into need of such an asset. His coffers are empty. There is no one who will advance him any further loans. He has mortgaged all he can simply to lease this borrowed town house and to give you one Season. You are the last pearl left to the Lockhart title. Failure to make a financially advantageous match on your part will land your aunt and uncle and cousins in dun territory, to say nothing of yourself. You will suffer the deprivations with them.’ Oswalt finished his lecture and began picking his nails. ‘They have given you this Season not merely for your personal enrichment, but in hopes of getting a return on their years of investment.’
‘Tell me it’s not true, Uncle?’ Julia demanded, whirling on the poor man. Oswalt’s disclosures had discomfited him and he seemed to shrink in the leather chair he occupied behind the desk. Julia’s throat constricted in terror at the morbid truth.
‘It is true. I cannot deny any scrap of it. Our pockets are to let. We need Oswalt’s offer.’
‘There must be another way! I do not love him. I will not grow to love him. He is a despicable old man to buy a bride in this way.’ Julia gave her tongue free rein, not caring that Oswalt sat feet away, absorbed in his nail picking.
‘Julia! Hush. This outburst is most unladylike,’ her uncle admonished. He craned his neck to speak around her and she could see the fear in his eyes that Oswalt would retract his offer at the display of her temper.
Julia put her hands on her hips, ready to do battle. ‘What about Cousin Gray’s ship? Surely the payoff from that cargo will see our problems resolved.’
‘Gray’s venture is fraught with risk. It is a gamble. I would rather bet on a sure thing.’ Uncle Barnaby gave her a terse scolding. ‘Remember your manners, Julia. It is not good ton to speak of money in company.’
‘You don’t seem to mind. You and Oswalt have divided me up like so many stock dividends on the exchange.’ The comment went beyond the pale, but if a temper tantrum got her out of this unholy arrangement, then so be it.
Oswalt was not fazed. He gave Julia all his attention. ‘Ah, I’ve got myself a cinnamon-haired virago, have I? Perhaps all that hot blood is what I need to warm myself. My dear, I welcome your passion and I care not a whit if you love me. I certainly don’t love you, nor do I intend to cultivate affection for you. I merely need a well-bred virgin in my bed from a family who will accept my offer. All that aside, it will be exciting to tame you to my hand. Should all go well with my physician, I’ll have a special licence in hand by week’s end and we’ll be wed by Sunday.’
‘My wife will want to give the wedding breakfast,’ Uncle Barnaby put in, relaxing again now that the deal had not been retracted.
Oswalt gave a gracious nod. ‘My new bride will enjoy a last chance to associate with family and friends before we depart.’ He fixed Julia with a crawling stare filled with a wealth of meaning. ‘I will have no desire to stay in London, where the pleasures of the Season might detract from our marriage. We will journey promptly to my country home in the Lake District. It’s very remote and well supplied. We won’t be bothered by outside interruptions. Once we have good news to share, I will return to town.’
Julia swallowed hard. His libidinous intent was clear. She was to be locked away in the country. Her only task in life would be to service his base needs and produce an heir for his cit’s fortune. She was nineteen and her life was about to be over.
She gave them each a curt nod of her head. ‘I give you good day’, then she turned hard on her heel and exited the room before either of them could see the fright they’d wrought in her with their thoughtless negotiations.
Once in her room, Julia locked the door and leaned against its solid oak panelling, taking comfort from the thickness of the wood. The little ormolu clock on the table beneath the window suggested the whole reprehensible interview had taken a short twenty minutes. It was barely eleven o’clock in the morning and her life was nearly ruined. The good news was that her life was only ‘nearly’ ruined.
It could have been worse, she supposed. Oswalt and her uncle could have signed the contracts already. Oswalt could have arrived with a licence and vicar in tow and married her in the study.
Julia shuddered and thought uncharitably that the scenario was unlikely since his coveted physician wouldn’t have been on hand to certify her virginal status. Five days. That was all the time left to her, barring the unforeseen circumstance that the physician return to town earlier or that Mortimer Oswalt’s need for haste caused him to engage another physician who wasn’t on holiday.
This was a time for action unless she reconciled herself to a life under Oswalt’s rule and hoped he didn’t live very long. It was clear from events in the study that neither protests nor legislation would avail her now.
