Bevil Hesketh feels that the sharp lesson afforded by his cousin trying to murder those above her chosen beau in the succession means that he needs a wife, but he does not want to be chosen for his title. So he decides to advertise, make a shortlist, and choose over a Christmas party.
I'm not very far into this but I am hoping that having to produce a chapter a day will spur me on and get it beta'd here in good time to be edited for Christmas.
Here's the family tree as a reminder:
Chapter 1
“I suppose I ought to get married,” said Bevil Heskyth.
“You don’t have to,” said Fulke. “You have your brother as a spare earl, and after him me, and any male brats Amabel and I manage to have, then Francis, your Uncle John and his boys, Granville and Ludowick. And as you ain’t a female you don’t have to get married for being in an interesting condition.”
Bevil blushed but laughed.
“This horrid business with Louisa trying to kill her way through us all in her determined pursuit of Granville has convinced me that I should be setting up a clear line of inheritance.”
“Well, as your guardian, you have my permission so long as you make a wise choice.”
“This is my problem, Uncle Fulke,” said Bevil. “If I go up to town, which is not my natural milieu in any case, I will be subject to every lure of matchmaking mamas in the city. An earl would be a feather in the cap of any mama. I’d never know if anyone wanted to marry me, or wanted to be a countess, or was forced by her mother to want to be a countess.”
“There is the disadvantage of being a peer,” said Fulke.
“I wondered about advertising, to be quite honest,” said Bevil.
“It’s a radical step, and you don’t know what you’ll be letting yourself in for,” said Fulke.
“Well, I thought I’d rely on the family informality of using first names on account of there being so many Messers Heskyth,” said Bevil, “And invite the short-list of contenders for a house party here, as you are married to Miss Clancy, Aunt Amabel, I mean, which was almost as much of a shock as poor Charlie being killed.”
“Really?” Fulke looked amused.
“Yes, and I have to say I think you very brave; she terrifies me,” said Bevil, frankly.
Fulke laughed.
“Oh, I’ve seen the softer side of the stern governess,” he said. “And you have impressed me with the way this business has made you grow up. You took command of the family very well in support of Sir Caleb and Lady Armitage when they came to investigate, and you have planned well in approaching the concept of marriage. Would you have any objection if Amabel and I move to Heskyth Old Place when Sarah is out of the schoolroom? Naturally Amabel will chaperone her for any Seasons she has when she is old enough.”
“That’s an admirable solution, though I will miss you for advice. Still, it’s a five minute walk over to the farm.”
“Yes, and it won’t do you any harm to have to make decisions without leaning on me. And our children will grow up without being as overshadowed by you, Algie and Sarah.”
“Yes, which will be nicer for them,” said Bevil. “And Louisa’s child ...”
“Louisa’s child is due in January and will grow up with our baby who is due in February,” said Fulke. “In fact by the time they are old enough to understand, I think they might as well be considered twins, and Louisa’s child can share a birthday with ours. Better for the poor brat never to know that he or she is the illegitimate daughter of a murderess, I think, let him or her grow up knowing no other parents than us. Even if one is early and t’other is late it will only be weeks between them. Louisa wants the child called ‘Blanche’ if it is a girl. Silly name, Blanche, but it is a family name. Louisa’s pugilist lover says he has no interest if his child was a girl, so we won’t have to worry about Abel Lund coming back from Australia in seven years demanding her if she is, and if he’s the twin of my progeny, hopefully he won’t know where to look if it’s a boy.”
Bevil nodded.
“It has been pretty terrible,” he said. “Still, we can move on now, though I confess it would make life easier if she dies in childbed rather than being hanged. It could affect the marriage chances of Algie, Sarah and my cousins, even if most match-making mamas would like their darling daughters to be countesses. I doubt they’d care if their daughter’s spouse was seven-and-ninety, a buffle-headed maggoty rattle-pate, wall-eyed and shaking with palsy. We are still in mourning, as well as having Louisa’s fate hang over our heads, but it explains why we are having a very quiet Christmas house party. She was a childhood companion, even if she became increasingly difficult as she got older, something I fear we boys just assumed was part of a girl growing up. Had any of us had surviving mothers, or had Aunt Amabel been a little older, and had more to do with Louisa, this tragedy might not have happened. Aunt Mary should have noticed, especially when Louisa decided she had an understanding with Granville.”
“Yes, well, your Aunt Mary is not the most observant person in the world,” said Fulke. “I had it from Sir Caleb, whose wife told him, that she had worked herself up into a state because she thought Ludowick had shot Charlie by accident and tried to cover it up.”
Bevil stared.
“Ludo? But he’s as straight as a die! He wants to be a vicar!”
“Yes,” said Fulke. “I suppose John handled the goods and was caught, as you might say, with his fingers in the till, for Mary’s a very attractive woman. I can’t see why my clever brother would marry her otherwise.”
“Uncle Fulke! You shock me!” said Bevil.
“Good; it’s a stupid reason to get married and will, I hope discourage you from manhandling any women who answer your advertisement,” said Fulke.
“I find it hard to believe of Uncle John,” said Bevil.
“Oh, he was a hey-go-mad youth in his time,” said Fulke. “And urged on by your late Uncle Edward, and ticked off by your late Uncle Robert ...”
“Oh,” said Bevil. “And being urged on by Uncle Edward might not have been enough, but to receive a prose from Uncle Robert, who wasn’t much older than him most have been the clincher.”
“Quite,” said Fulke.
“I wish you will help me with the wording of my advertisement, Uncle,” said Bevil.
“Dear me!” said Fulke. “Amabel might do better.”
“Very well; do you think you could ask her to come with you to my study when morning school has finished? And by the way, don’t you think we ought to get Sarah another governess, now Algie and Ludo are up at Oxford, and Aunt Amabel will have her own child – children – to care for?”
“I will ask her that,” said Fulke. “Sarah adores the idea of babies, fortunately, so as Amabel does not have the onerous task of preparing your brother and cousin for Oxford, I don’t think she minds being, essentially, a mother to Sarah too.”
“And I suppose when I am asking her to be my hostess, Sarah will be doing the pretty and not expected to be at lessons either,” said Bevil.
“Indeed,” said Fulke.
Amabel came into the study and sat gracefully, unintimidated by the heavy, dark, Chinese furnishings.
“Heskyth, if you plan to marry, you are going to have to decide whether to impose on your bride your father’s taste for Chinoiserie or to re-decorate,” she said, briskly.
“Oh, I was going to ask whoever I chose to help me redecorate in a style we both agreed on,” said Bevil.
Amabel brightened.
“Now that would endear you to any girl,” she said.
“Note to self,” murmured Fulke, “Get Amabel to choose the decoration of Heskyth Old Place when we remove there.”
Amabel gave him a small, demure smile of approval. Fulke caught his breath; so demure a look promised him a lot of enjoyment later.
Bevil missed that bit of byplay.
Amabel went on,
“You want to make it clear without saying so that you are not enticing women for lewd purposes, and I strongly suggest that you shortlist them by interviewing those you do not reject out of hand first.”
“Do you think I will have many replies then?” asked Bevil.
“I am given to believe that the replies to advertisements to marry tend to number in the hundreds rather than the dozens,” said Amabel. “Don’t look so shocked; Fulke and I, and probably Francis as well, will help you look over the answers. You will, of course, be specifying an upper age for the young lady as you want a wife not a governess; and some poor, desperate women will try to persuade you that you would like an older woman.”
“Really? Even with an age limit?” asked Bevil, in lively horror.
“Oh, yes,” said Amabel. “And you might decide you did not want a widow, or a widow with children, for example. Or a girl who finds herself in uncomfortable circumstances owing to a little indiscretion. Which can mean anything from a girl with strict parents who was caught kissing a beau, to a girl who has taken a nine-month withdrawal into the country for her health in order to give birth discreetly.”
“I would not want a wife who was not continent,” said Bevis.
“No, but if she was a woman in my position as governess, who had been raped or seduced by a family member and had not been offered marriage – or had been offered marriage only until she had given her maidenhead, and then rejected – she is guilty of naivety not incontinence,” said Amabel. “You understand, I have a bit more knowledge of girls in impoverished situations than you do, my lord.”
“I wish you will not call me ‘my lord’,” said Bevil, testily. “You used to call me Bevil.”
“Yes, but then you started acting like Lord Heskyth so I did you the compliment of calling you as such,” said Amabel. “But if you prefer it, Bevil, I will go back to family informality.”
“Yes, do,” said Bevil. “Very well. We can reject any who are unsuitable, after fair warning. Do I put anything about those abused by ... by lewd fellows?”
“No, but if you are happy to accept young widows, you might put ‘offspring no bar’, if you are willing to be a stepfather.”
“Good grief! There is much more to being a husband than I had considered,” said Bevil. “Well, I shall be of age in less than a year, now, so I need to stand up and be a man, I suppose, and if any lady is widowed, or ... or inconvenienced, then her children will not be very old. And it is not impossible that another candidate might prove suitable as a governess, for I could not ask you to take on ... no, I will not picture a soldier’s widow with a stream of twins and triplets clinging to her skirts.”
“A frightening picture,” said Fulke, gravely.
“Terrifying,” agreed Bevil. “So what do I need to say?”
Amabel considered.
“’Lancastrian landowner seeks wife of gentle birth. No older than ...’ what, your own age?”
“I’d meet someone up to about twenty-three,” said Bevil.
“Very well, ‘no older than three-and-twenty years. This gentleman is tolerably well off, so able to keep a wife in comfort. Will expect to live quietly in the country most of the time.’ I take it you do not wish to cut a dash each season in London? What about sitting in the House to do your civic duty?”
“I suppose I must do so. Put something about going to London occasionally. I would have said a few things about the Peterloo Massacre if I had been allowed to Speak in the House this last year, but as I could not, not being of age, I wrote to the newspapers instead.”
“So, ‘May travel to London occasionally in the winter season,’” said Amabel. “Do you have a preference for looks?”
“Not really,” said Bevil. “I haven’t had much chance to form a preference. Probably not blondes, but I’m more interested in what she is like as a person.”
“Well, you won’t have any of the sillier ones if they can’t show off over the spring and summer,” said Fulke. “Though the more desperate won’t care.”
“And then you also need to say ‘widowhood or small children not necessarily a bar,” said Amabel.
“Excellent. And then ... initial interviews to be at ... oh, the Swan with Two Necks?”
“No, no!” said Amabel. “On no account give away the place of the initial interview or you will have those you have rejected turn up.”
“Oh!” said Bevil. “Really? Even after being turned down?”
“Bev, you cannot write to all of them,” said Fulke. “You can put ‘if applicants have not heard inside two weeks, please assume your application is unsuccessful’ in the advertisement. As well as a post-restante address, which I suggest you have in Manchester rather than too close to home. Some women are capable of using Cary’s or Patterson’s Roads books to find out the seats of various gentlemen in the vicinity. Using Manchester reduces their likelihood of guessing where in Lancashire. Or even Lancaster. Then you write to a dozen or fewer to ask to an interview in London, and then invite those you want to get to know better, which can be all or none, to a house party, and all travel expenses paid, of course.”
“Yes, I hadn’t thought, it could be a hardship for some,” said Bevil. “Aunt Amabel, will you draft that for me please?”
“Certainly,” said Amabel. “I’m sure you are capable of doing it yourself but perhaps it will be as well if I do, to make sure it is not off-putting to young women in straitened circumstances.”
“Thank you,” said Bevil.
The notice as it was to appear ran,
“Young gentleman landowner in Lancashire seeks a wife as a companion and to be a mother to his future children. No applicants over three-and-twenty years old, please. Widowhood and young children not necessarily a bar. The gentleman prefers a quiet, rural existence though may make trips occasionally to London during the winter season. His circumstances are sufficient to keep any wife in comfort. Please return replies to the Post Office, Manchester, and assume that if you do not receive a reply inside two weeks that you have not been shortlisted.”
“I think that covers everything,” said Bevil, in relief. “Good; that can go in the Morning Post and other London papers.”
