So here's the article HERE and if you read the comments, you will see I also got rather sidetracked onto the murder at the Red Barn, but never mind.
Here, however, is the current opening of 'The Advertised Bride'. And yes, Letty will be in it, albeit in something of a cameo role.
Chapter 1
Dinah
Caldecott heaved a sigh of relief; saved by Uncle Adam!
And an
invitation to spend Christmas at Darsham Hall was always to be welcomed in any
case; Uncle Adam was a kindly uncle and his house parties were cosy and fun.
The invitation
meant that she would not have to get married before Christmas, as her parents
would not risk annoying the head of the family, Adam Brandon, Baron Darsham.
Dinah wondered if her cousin, Imogen, would be there; but Uncle Adam might
consider it inappropriate. Imogen had
married Evelyn, Lord Finchbury, over the summer, and everyone knew that
Finchbury had sired the daughter born to the previous Baroness Darsham, now
divorced. However, Dinah considered,
Uncle Adam was fond of children and he would probably like the child, Lydia,
whom he had taken as his ward, to meet her father.
Imogen had
written of having two stepchildren from other peccadilloes of her husband, and
Dinah thought that Finchbury sounded a most ramshackle fellow. Uncle Adam would
be bound to want to meet the other children too, to make sure that Imogen was
not being exploited. Dinah thought it
very unlikely, but Uncle Adam did take his responsibilities seriously. Imogen had written that she loved Jasper and
Phebe dearly, and that she was deliriously happy with her Evelyn, and Dinah did
not think her cousin would put on a brave face.
She was more likely to do something about any situation that made her
unhappy. Imogen was an ingenious sort
of girl, reflected Dinah, and might be able to come up with an idea to rescue
Dinah from marriage to a man she had met once, and disliked immediately. It was so lowering, reflected Dinah, to have
become so cowed and afraid of crossing Papa, and she was sure Imogen must
despise her for it; but then Imogen’s own father was so affable.
Uncle Adam
embraced Dinah.
“Your sister
couldn’t come?” he asked.
“Her husband
won’t let her,” said Dinah.
“Dear me, how
singular of him,” said Adam, dryly. “Sir
Swithin, I suspect that Marjorie may have made a poor choice in her spouse.”
Sir Swithin
Caldecot went purple.
“You have no
right to criticise my choice of husband for Marjorie, my lord, any more than
you have any right to criticise my choice of husband for Dinah!”
“Oh, of course
not,” said Adam. “You chose him, not
she? Dear me, and no man likes to feel
that he has made a poor decision and made his daughter unhappy. It’s perhaps as well that Dinah is far too
young to get married for several years.”
“Dinah will be
married in the new year; she is sixteen and the offer is an excellent one,”
said Sir Swithin.
“Is it?” Adam
asked Dinah.
“I have only
met him once, Uncle Adam, so I do not know; and when I met him I assumed he was
a friend of my father, as he’s rather old,” said Dinah.
“Enough of
that!” roared Sir Swithin. “A flighty
young girl needs an older man to bring her to heel!”
“Interesting
way to look at it,” said Adam. Anger
lurked in his eyes. “I had never thought
Dinah to be anything but quite biddable, hardly in need of bringing to heel! But there, you know your own daughter best, I
suppose.”
“Yes,” Sir
Swithin almost ground his teeth. “Her
husband is a nabob, a widower whose first wife did not survive the rigours of India, and
Dinah is a good healthy girl who will doubtless manage better to give him a son
to inherit his business.”
“Oh, a
tradesman? Ah well, times change,” said Adam.
“Jane’s husband is perfectly gentlemanly to be sure, and he in chamber
pots. Dinah, your cousins are already
here, Imogen and Finchbury visited the Copleys and came south with them. Jasper is a year older than your cousin Lucy,
and Phebe a year older than your cousin Philippa, so they get on famously. You’ll find them under the approximate
guidance of Imogen sounding the panelling for secret passages, which is as good
an occupation as any to keep them out of mischief.”
“Oh what
fun! Are there any secret passages?”
asked Dinah.
“I never found
any when I was a boy, but I don’t rule it out,” said Adam. “My father opened up the secret stair to the
priest’s hole, in the days we were a Catholic family, and I use the priest’s
room as my study. The door isn’t obvious
and it means servants who don’t know the secret can’t bother me.”
“How nice!”
said Dinah, wistfully. She dropped him a
little curtsey and went in search of Imogen.
The enthusiasm
of young voices led Dinah to the panel-tapping party, where she recognised Lucy
and Philippa, and, too, her cousin Imogen, who was chatting to another lady
whom Dinah believed to be the distant cousin Beth. Beth was married to Edward Brandon, nephew
and heir to Adam. She appeared to be heavily pregnant. There were three other children, one of whom
was a boy, and must be Jasper. The older
of the two girls had to be Phebe, but who the younger was, Dinah could not
guess.
“Dinah!” Imogen swept her into an embrace. “I am glad that nasty father of yours let you
come. Have you met Cousin Beth?”
“No, but I
heard all about how Cousin Edward swept you off your feet,” said Dinah, to Beth.
Beth coloured.
“Oh, I had
always loved him, you know,” she said, in her soft voice, “But he came to
realise that he loved me too, so everything is quite splendid! We
live near enough to Darsham to make visiting easy,” she added. “I had no fear of coming for Christmas, even
if we do manage a Christmas baby.”
“And I would
not let Evelyn fuss about me,” said Imogen.
“Yes, I am enceinte too!”
“Who is the
other little girl?” asked Dinah.
“Oh, that is
Kate,” said Beth. “Edward and I adopted
her; she used to be a chimney sweep, her horrid father sold her. And there was nobody else really to look
after her, so we made her our ward, and then decided to adopt her. Edward is well enough off not to worry about
the odd extra child.”
Imogen
laughed.
“And what
makes me think Kate will not be the only one you adopt?” she teased.
“You can
scarcely talk, taking on Jasper and Phebe.”
“They,
however, are my husband’s children and he swears he has no other children he
knows of, so I am unlikely to be taking on any more. By next Chrismas, who knows how many you
might have?”
Beth laughed.
“Oh, I won’t
try to guess,” she said. “It would be an
unkindness in the normal way to take a child out of her own class, but Kate is
a clever girl, and eager to learn, and my maid Molly wishful to help her too,
as she was with me when we rescued her.
After having shot your husband.”
Imogen
chuckled.
“His face when
he saw you first after we arrived here was quite priceless! Thank you for treating him in so forgiving a
fashion.”
“I actually
quite like him,” said Beth. “But he is
no comparison to my Edward!”
“I am bound to
disagree,” said Imogen. “Dinah, such a
long face! Surely you do not long for a
husband to argue comparisons over?”
“No, and
that’s the problem!” cried Dinah. “I am
to be married after Christmas, and to a horrid old man who leered at me, and he
has sweaty hands, and skin like mahogany, all wrinkled like a walnut, and Papa
is not to be argued with over it.
Indeed, I am afraid he will take me away, for Uncle Adam put him in a
passion, criticising Marjorie’s husband.”
“Oh dear,”
said Imogen. “Well, there is nothing
else for it; you will have to get married before the end of the holidays. Have you any beaux?”
“No, I have
never even been to a dance. I’m only
sixteen and Mama said I should come out when I was seventeen. I shan’t be seventeen until April and that
will be too late, and besides, Papa will say that coming out is unnecessary as
he has found me a husband.”
“I can only
see one course open to you, then, as I do not think you could manage to run
away as I did without help,” said Imogen.
“You must
think me very poor spirited,” said Dinah.
“No, my dear,
I think you very much downtrodden, like a governess to horrible children, only
your father is more childish than the most horrible child I have ever heard
of,” said Imogen. “Fancy not being able to control his temper at his age!”
“I don’t think
he ever had to,” said Dinah. “What idea did you have?”
“Why, insert
an advertisement in the Ipswich Journal and the Norfolk Chronicle that you are
looking for a husband, and then marry the one you like the most,” said
Imogen. “I will help you to interview
those who take your interest from their letters.”
“But Imogen,
Papa might see the advertisement!” cried Dinah.
“Silly, you do
not put it in your name,” said Imogen.
“You write something like ‘Young lady seeks matrimony with a man of
sufficient means and gentility to support a wife of breeding, no older than
thirty. Send post-paid envelope to … oh,
to some inn.”
“The Bell, Saxmundham,”
supplied Beth. “It’s an old and respectable
hostelry; George II stayed there once. I
don’t suppose Edward would collect letters for you though, he was most shocked
when I connived at an elopement of a friend of mine.”
“I was about
to say there’s a difference between an elopement and a marriage arranged by
advertisement, the latter being perfectly respectable, but of course Dinah is
going to have to elope, in order to wed legally,” said Imogen. “Not being of age. And your mother can’t be relied upon to give
consent, can she?” she asked Dinah.
Dinah shook
her head.
“Mama stands
and shakes if she has to tell Papa that something has occurred so that his
choice of dinner is not served, or if she needs more muslin to make us
underlinen,” she said. “All she does is
say ‘Papa knows best’ so she is of no use whatsoever.”
“Poor Aunt
Daphne!” said Imogen. “Of course, she’s
my great aunt really, and must have been at her last prayer when she married.”
“Yes, she was
almost thirty, and there are several little memorials in the local church who
were born before me,” said Dinah. “I
suppose it must have been hard for her, but it would be nice if she wanted her
daughters to be happy, and not end up like her.”
“She probably
does, but has no more strength left to fight to help you,” said Beth.
“But we shall
help you, and Jasper may ride over to Saxmundham, which is no more than an
hour’s ride, and collect your letters surreptitiously,” said Imogen.
The cheerful,
swarthy lad turned.
“What did you
want me to do, Ma?” he asked.
“We’re
arranging to get Dinah married to anyone else except the horrid man her awful
father has chosen,” said Imogen, “And if she advertises for a husband, I
thought you’d be just the man to ride into Saxmundham to collect them. And that
they write there will give them the intimation that they will have to travel to
Saxmundham to meet her.”
“They
will? I will?” asked Dinah.
“Well, you can
scarcely ask them to come here,” said Imogen.
“It preserves the level of anonymity, and we can hire a room and be
heavily veiled.”
“I can handle
any message carrying,” said Jasper. “If
you write out the notices now, I’ll ride too the nearest post office so they
are quickly in the newspapers. And on to Sax, to pay the innkeeper to take in
mail. They just call it Sax, around here, at least, the servants do. I’ll go find out where the post office is,
from Uncle Adam, and change into riding duds.
The girls will have to sound panels on their own,” he added with an air
of self-importance.
“I love that
boy,” said Imogen, fondly, as Jasper whirled off. “And so does Uncle Adam; he asked him right
away to call him Uncle, for all that he’s no such thing really.”
“Will you help
me write out a notice?” asked Dinah.
“Of course,”
said Imogen. “I doubt my sisters, or
Phebe and Kate will get into any serious trouble if left, I only came along
because Phebe is a little clingy, but she seems to have settled in with the
others quite happily.”
Dinah
laboriously penned, at the dictation of Imogen, and careful capitals as
directed,
“MATRIMONY – A lady of good birth and
breeding, and without a stain on her character wishes, for reasons which will
be revealed to any successful candidate to MARRY a young man of sufficient
fortune and gentility to keep her in the state to which she is accustomed. His age should not exceed thirty years, and
he should be of pleasant and amiable disposition. Reply post-paid only, to DC,
care of the Landlord, ‘The Bell’,
Saxmundham.”
“I wonder if
one should specify his fortune?” murmured Imogen. “A curate or a clerk might consider himself of
sufficient fortune, but really, you are rather used to living well, even if
your father does cut up rather about the bills.”
“We do not
live so well as I think your family do,” said Dinah. “The housekeeper is
directed to buy cheap cuts of meat, you know.”
“Yes, but even
so, I cannot see you managing on eighty guineas per annum, married to a clerk,”
said Imogen. “Add ‘his income not to be
less than two hundred guineas per year,’ which you should manage on, and
rewrite that twice, once for each newspaper.”
“I do know how
to keep house,” said Dinah. “Mama did
teach me that.”
“Good, then if
you do fetch up in relative penury, you will be able to hold the
household. And you may always desert him
and come and live with us, if you dislike marriage,” said Imogen. “We shan’t get sanctimonious at you.”
“Thank you,
for everything, Imogen,” said Dinah.
