arms around me—“it is true. His mother knows and approves of the match. Indeed, I suspect it was her idea. He does not behave like an ardent lover whose proposal has been accepted. I believe he will marry her out of respect for his mother’s wishes, rather than his own.”
How could it be? Yet another submissive child, willing to sacrifice her or his life’s happiness on the altar of filial duty!
“But why? I fully understand that Charity would have him if she could, but why should he want her? And why should his mother wish to see them marry?”
My mother lowered her gaze and her voice. “I believe it may be Charity’s fortune that is behind it,” she murmured. “And of course, Charity is quite a pretty girl. Nothing in comparison with you, of course, but attractive.”
“But Lord Boring already has a fortune. And he doesn’t like Charity.” My voice was rising into a wail, and I stilled it by pressing a hand to my mouth.
“Now, dear, let us hope you are wrong. When she is in a good mood, she can be pleasant enough. No, but I fear it is financial necessity that prompted his proposal. The Marquis has several times hinted to me that the Baron was unlikely to offer for you, because you have no dowry. I have been fretting a great deal about whether or not to mention it to you. It seemed so obvious that he was very taken with you, and you seemed . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Very taken with him,” I concluded for her. “Yes. Yes, I was.”
“But Althea, dear, I have never thought you to be in love with him. Attracted, yes, of course you were—he is such a handsome man and his manners are faultless. But he does not seem to me to be a man of strong character. He seems—forgive me, dear—rather weak. And you have such a decided character that I would wish you to marry a man who was your equal.
“To be honest,” she continued, “I am even a bit concerned about his marrying Charity. The Marquis also suggested that the Boring fortune is much smaller than we have supposed and that Mrs. Westing has . . . gambling debts. Debts of a serious nature, that she is not in a position to pay. I worry that this marriage may not be in Charity’s best interests. I ventured to say so—not so bluntly as that, of course, but urging her to consider her position before entering into a formal engagement. She—she accused me of seeking to keep her money in the family for my own selfish purposes. After that, of course, I could say nothing else.”
I reflected that it was quite true that we wished to keep her money in the family. We could not deny it. But since she kept such a tight grip on every penny, it was only just worth the effort. I did not envy the Baron if he thought he would have free access to it for his own purposes. He might have every legal right to it once they were married, but Charity was a force to be reckoned with in these matters.
Nor did I envy Charity. She would be married for her fortune and, I supposed, because she was prettier than (tho’ not so rich as) Miss Vincy. I knew beyond a doubt that, given a free choice, he would have married me, and Charity knew it as well.
“Charity will be a baroness,” I said aloud. “And I suppose that is all that matters.”
“Perhaps. But it is wrong for me to assume the match is not based upon affection. At any rate, we must hope so. My greatest fear is how it concerns you, my love. Please tell me that you are not so very unhappy.”
I considered my emotions. The honest truth was that I was both angry and offended. My vanity was injured. But my heart . . . my heart was untouched. Mama was right. I did not love him. I had merely marked him out as my property, and now was furious that I had lost him, and to Charity.
At last I spoke. “He was wrong to have distinguished me with so much attention if he did not mean to marry me. That has lessened him in my eyes to such an extent that I am not sorry I am not to be his wife. I am distressed, yes, but I will recover in time.”
“Oh, how