Page 10 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
“Marriage?” Lady Marshville spoke up, gaze still fixed on the fire. “You talk about marriage, sir? You’ve never met one of my daughters, not even once.”
He swallowed. She was clearly not pleased he was here. Lord Marshville winced, but did not argue with his wife.
Tread carefully, Neil. Tread carefully.
“It’s true, what I am proposing is not traditional. I understand my mother contacted you about this?”
Lord Marshville shifted. “Yes, but she was rather light on the details. Do I understand that you wish to marry one of my daughters?”
Neil drew in a breath. “Indeed, that is the essence of the matter, Lord Marshville. With her consent, of course, and with yours.”
There was a brief silence.
“My girls have no dowry,” Lord Marshville said carefully.
“Yes, I know. The truth is, I know a little about your affairs, Lord Marshville. I know that you are in straitened circumstances. As you son-in-law, I would be able to not only provide a comfortable life for one of your daughters, but I could also do something about your situation.”
He’d mis-stepped, Neil realized that at once.
Lady Marshville was on her feet in an instant, red-faced and furious.
“Are you implying that we wouldsellone of our daughters to you? A man said to be mad?”
He recoiled. Lord Marshville held out a placating hand to his wife.
“Mary, dear, I implore you- do cease this at once!”
“No, she is right,” Neil said, recovering. Lady Marshville narrowed her eyes at him.
“Pray tell, Lord Morendale, what is your scheme?" she inquired slowly, with a hint of mistrust in her tone.
He shifted on his seat, clearing his throat.
“Indeed, it is true that there are some unflattering whispers regarding my mental condition. My father passed away under rather distressing circumstances, and… to speak candidly, I have cause for concern regarding my own health. However, I assure you, Lord and Lady Marshville, I am not mad. I do experience episodes, I shall not disguise that, but I am not a threat. I do not harm others, nor have I ever made any intimation to do so.”
“But your father did,” Lady Marshville said, voice quiet. “I heard that he accused all around him of murder. His own murder, no less.”
Neil bit his lower lip until he tasted copper, trying not to remember how his father’s tortured howls had reverberated through the house. He could still hear his mother’s frantic shouts, desperately pleading with the man she loved to come back, come back to her. He could hear Cynthia’s sobs; head hidden beneath a pile of cushions to try and block out the sound.
“That is true, too,” Neil said at last. “My illness seems to be different to my father’s. For now, at least. So far, the condition confines itself to fits, nausea, and dizziness. I am not dangerous, and you can speak to my family and the family physician, Mr. Edmund Blackburn. However, you can understand why I am not looking for a bride in Society, and why I felt the need to come here and be blunt and open with you both about my state of health.”
Lord and Lady Marshville exchanged glances.
“I appreciate your candour,” Lady Marshville said at last, sounding a little mollified. “But I’m sure you can see why I would not want my girls marrying a man with your condition. Why should I feel otherwise?”
“Because,” Neil said, steeling himself to be blunt, “your girls have no prospects.”
Lady Marshville bristled. “I beg your pardon?”
"I must beg your pardon for my candour, but is this not the unvarnished truth? I have no doubt that your daughters are admirable young ladies, yet they do not conform to the prevailing notions of beauty in these times. Your family, while respectable, does not possess the antiquity or influence that might endear you to society. Your financial standing is precarious, and I fear you are encumbered by considerable debt, which places your assets at great risk, rendering any prospect of a suitable dowry quite unlikely. I understand that your eldest daughter has endured several unsuccessful Seasons, and it is my belief that your second daughter has likewise faced similar challenges. I intend no affront nor wish to distress you; I merely seek to convey the truth of the matter. Am I mistaken in any of my assertions? “
Lord and Lady Marshville exchanged glances again. Slowly, slowly, Lady Marshville returned to her seat, dropping down with a ragged sigh.
“No,” she said at last, sounding defeated. “You are not wrong. I love my girls, Lord Morendale, make no mistake. Patrina and Agnes are not thriving in Society, it’s true. We had placed our hopes upon Gillian, and perchance in a year or two, she may secure a match of her own. Yet, I am uncertain we possess the luxury of a year or two to squander.” She paused, casting a scathing glance at Neil. “But our daughters are precious to us, Lord Morendale, more dear than you can fathom. They are exquisite young ladies, possessing admirable qualities, and each one of them is worth ten of any empty Society beauty.”
He bowed his head. “I agree, Lady Marshville, I agree. I don’t mean to insult your girls. In fact, if you are amenable, Iwant to marry one of them. She would be a Marchioness, with a share of my fortune. She would be a powerful woman, and if I should… if I should die young, as I fear I might, she would be left as a wealthy widow, to run my estates and raise our child. Or children, if we are so blessed.”
There. He’d said it. Everything in his head was said, and Neil let out a small sigh of relief. He sat back in his seat, waiting for Lord and Lady Marshville to make their decision.
