Page 7 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
“I’m surprised that such a wealthy man can’t afford an assistant,” Patrina said tartly.
“It hardly matters. He signed the letter at the bottom. There, that is his crest. Take it, read it.”
Patrina reluctantly took the letter. It was good paper, creamy and thick, covered with looping, sloping handwriting thatdidlook like a woman’s. She saw an unfamiliar seal, dug deep into red wax, which had clearly once sealed the letter shut.
It was most unexpectedly succinct missive. Not crossed nor densely penned, either. Such brevity seemed unnecessary, and one could not doubt that a gentleman of the Marquess ofMorendale's stature would possess no need to be frugal with his stationery. He could easily procure as many sheets as his heart desired. Indeed, it was likely that he would not even consider inscribing upon the verso of his correspondence.
My Dear Lord and Lady Marshville,the letter said,I hope this finds you in good health. I write to request a meeting with yourselves and your daughters at your earliest convenience. The location and time of our meeting can be discussed later.
I understand that this is rather unorthodox, but I believe you and I have matters of great importance to discuss regarding the future of our families. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest that it is a matter ofmutual benefit. I offer no more details until a meeting can be arranged.
I await your response with the greatest eagerness. I must warn you that aprompt replyis expected, or else I shall take my offer elsewhere.
She read the short letter several times, waiting for some hidden meaning to reveal itself.
It did not.
“I don’t understand,” she said at last, blinking down at the letter. “What does he mean? Or what does his mother mean, if she is the one who wrote it?”
“He specifically says he wishes to meet with your mother and Iand our daughters,” George said, tapping the letter and lifting his eyebrows significantly. “What new marquess is not preoccupied with the matter of marriage and heirs? I imagine his lordship is looking for a wife.”
“And why can’t he just pick some pretty, rich little debutante from Society?” Patrina responded. “Gentlemen don’t look for wives in this manner.”
“You said it yourself. The gossip mongers have him as a madman. A man of his standing ought to have been marriedalready, especially since the estate is entailed and he has no brothers. He must be getting desperate. Besides, any lady of any worth would not look twice at him.”
Patrina flinched back, swallowing hard. She stared at her father, waiting for him to realize what he had said.
He must be getting desperate. Any lady of any worth would not look twice at him.
That is why he has asked to meet us,was the implication. Because the Marshville girls were not worthy of much else.
“I am not happy about this,” Mary announced. Her lips were pressed tight together, her back ramrod straight. She was starting to look tired, and Patrina wondered uneasily if her mother had used up her meagre stores of strength on all of this. It was clear that she had already known about the letter, and equally clear that she did not approve.
“If he truly is mad, I won’t let any of my daughters near him,” Mary continued. “Besides, George, you are placing the cart before the horse. We have no inkling of what this gentleman desires.”
“No, we do not,” George admitted, leaning back in his seat. “And, Patrina, let me be clear about this. I will not compel you or your sisters to meet this man. The idea of forcing my daughters into a marriage is truly repulsive to me. Not that you girls would permit yourself to be in that situation at all, to be frank. But a man like this, with his wealth and power… well, he could turn our lives around like that.”
George snapped his fingers, making Patrina jump. Silence fell over the parlour after that.
“Can… Can I decide later?” Patrina asked at last, her voice a little shaky. Mary looked relieved, and George’s face fell.
“Of course,” he said, forcing a smile. “But decide by morning, my dear. I intend to send off a reply by breakfast.”
He’s already written the reply in his head,Patrina thought dully.He’s already decided what he is going to do. And he hopes that my sisters and I will fall into line. After all, what else can we do? No other miracle is going to come along and save us. This is it for us.
“Of course, Papa,” she said aloud.
***
“It could be nothing, couldn’t it?” Patrina said, meeting her maid’s eyes through the mirror.
It was dark outside, half of the household asleep already. Rain battered at the windowpane, and only the light of a single candle lit Patrina’s bedroom. There was of course no fire in the grate – firewood was expensive – and her toes were starting to go numb.
Lucy frowned, squinting in the poor light, trying to wind Patrina’s untidy hair into a long, thick braid for sleep.
“I think that there’s only one way to find out,” she said aloud. “It’s not as if he’s going to pressure you into accepting.”
“I don’t know,” Patrina muttered. “There are some shocking stories about his father. The man went quite,quitemad before he died, they say. He would often bellow and convulse, frothing at the mouth, and would dash down the corridors nearly in a state of undress.
