“That wouldn’t guarantee a husband for me! Men don’t find women like me attractive, Mama. I don’t have to remind you of what happened six years ago—you were there.”
Lady Perceval shuddered. “I was,” she replied with feeling.
“The so-called gentlemen made fun of me! I may have been inept and…and, yes, stupid! But they were so unkind! They made no effort to understand. They couldn’t believe that a woman might want to ask questions or debate issues which went beyond the cut of a sleeve or who was whose latest flirt.” She frowned, then shrugged her shoulders and smiled wryly. “I was foolish to try. The last thing they wanted to do was to be required to think.”
“I’ve always felt that a lot of the blame was mine, my dear. You were very young. Hugo always advised against taking you straight from Mrs Guarding’s Academy into the fashionable world, and he was right. You weren’t prepared for it.”
“Mrs Guarding is a wonderful woman. I…”
“I know about Mrs Guarding’s advanced views on educating young women. She may be a wonderful teacher, but her ideas do not exactly prepare girls for success in society! You were stuffed full of half-digested notions of saving the world. Praiseworthy, no doubt, but hardly appropriate for the drawing-rooms of the Ton. And then the scandal with Lord Canford ruined everything—”
Hester shuddered. “Please don’t, Mama! If you only knew what that episode did to my self-esteem!”
“I do know! You didn’t have a chance after that. I was never so shocked in all my life as when I heard how Canford had behaved at the Sutherlands’ ball. Thank heaven Hugo was there to rescue you!”
“He may have saved me from Canford’s attentions, but he didn’t exactly spare my feelings afterwards—especially when the noble lord aired his grievance to anyone who cared to listen.” A giggle escaped her. “Mind you, Canford had some cause. If he really believed I had encouraged him, it must have come as a shock when I emptied the glass of wine over him. His coat was ruined. What he must have felt when Hugo came in and caught him chasing me round the room…!”
“I am surprised Canford had so much vitality. He must have been sixty if he was a day!”
“He had a quite remarkable turn of speed. And then Hugo got caught in Canford’s walking stick and they both came down. Thank God neither was badly hurt. The scandal would have been even greater if such a prominent member of the aristocracy had been lamed for life by my brother! But Canford limped away quite nimbly in the end. Soaked in wine and cursing.” There was a pause. Then Hester added, “Looking back now, it was a relief that you were more or less forced to bring me back to Northamptonshire afterwards…I had had enough of London, and Hugo had certainly had enough of me.”
“He was disappointed that his efforts to launch you had failed so disastrously. He suffered too, Hester.”
“My dear Mama, Hugo was far more concerned about his own dignity than he was about my reputation. I’d apparently let him down in front of…in front of…his friends.”
“I’m sure he had forgotten that Dungarran was there when he gave you such a dressing-down. He would never normally have done such a thing in front of anyone else.”
“You believe not?”
“I am sure he wouldn’t. It was most unfortunate. You haven’t really been friends with him since, have you, my dear?”
“No. And he comes so seldom to Abbot Quincey now, that there’s never an opportunity for us to put things right. Lowell is here quite often, but Hugo never comes.”
Lady Perceval said firmly, “Hugo is like every other young man of his age—he enjoys life in society. He’ll come when he is ready—you’ll see. He’s thirty in July, and that’s when he always said he would settle down.”
“He was so unkind to me! But I miss him, all the same. We were good friends when we were young…” Hester got up, went to the window and gazed at the peaceful scene outside without really seeing it. There was a silence. Then she added bitterly, “Is it so surprising that I never want to see London again?”
Lady Perceval sighed. “I am sure things will be different now,” she said persuasively. “Canford died two years ago. And memories are short.”
“Perhaps. But men still like pretty faces, and dainty, appealing ways in the young women they marry. They don’t look for argument or debate. Well, I have never been either pretty or dainty. I’m too tall. And now I’m six years older and my bloom, such as it was, has faded. And, worst of all, though I’ve lost my passion to change the world, I still enjoy using the brains the Lord gave me in a good argument.” Hester came back to her mother and knelt down beside her. “Oh Mama, I am convinced that I would never find a husband to please me. I’m perfectly content here in Abbot Quincey. Please, please will you not speak to Papa?”
Lady Perceval shook her head. “I would not at this moment even think of making the attempt. Not while there is still time for you to see how wrong you are. Listen to me, Hester,” she went on, gently taking both Hester’s hands in hers and speaking very seriously. “It may surprise you to learn that large numbers of women with considerable intelligence are clever enough to keep themselves and their husbands happy simply by disguising the fact! At seventeen you could be forgiven for not realising this, but not now, Hester. Not now. Look around you! The idea that it is impossible to find happiness in marriage is absurd! I have always been very happy with your dear Papa. And look at Beatrice Roade—a very clever, sensible girl—but since her marriage at Christmas she positively radiates happiness!”
“No one could possibly deny that. But she was lucky. She and Harry Ravensden are exactly right for each other—and Harry doesn’t just put up with Mr Roade’s eccentricities, he positively delights in them! No, there’s no doubt about that marriage, I agree. But that does not change my mind, Mama!”
“And I shall not change mine, Hester. We are going to London for the coming Season.” There was a pause while she looked at her daughter’s downcast face. Then her voice softened. “If nothing has changed by the time we return from London, then we shall see what can be done.”
“Oh, thank you, Mama—”
“But first, you must give yourself another chance,” Lady Perceval said firmly. “Is it a bargain? Will you promise me to keep an open mind? Will you try to mend fences with Hugo, and forget any grudges from the past? Will you do that?”
“I’ll try, Mama,” Hester sighed, “but it won’t be easy.”
“There’s my good girl! And now I expect you want to escape to that attic of yours for the rest of the morning, though I’m not at all sure it’s good for you to spend so much time alone up there. Wait, Hester! Did you take Mrs Hardwick the eggs when you were in the village? Is she any better?”
“Not yet. But Dr Pettifer will come this afternoon. And the eggs were welcome. They had almost run out.”
“That’s good. Off you go, then. You might spend some time reflecting on what I have said. Marriage is a woman’s best chance of happiness.”
The way to her attic was long and took her past some of the most beautiful rooms in the house. The family lived in only a small section of the main block, together with a suite of rooms in the west wing occupied by Hester’s grandmother. The Dowager Lady Perceval was away at the moment and the rest of the house was silent and unused, the furniture under holland covers, and pictures and ornaments packed away or even sold. Perceval Hall had been built in wealthier times, but Sanford Perceval, Hester’s great-grandfather, had been a gambler and a wastrel. Fortunately he died young, before he had entirely run through the handsome fortune left him by his father. The Percevals no longer owned the vast acres of former days, but they had managed to hold on to the Hall, and their name still counted for something. They were among the county’s oldest and most respected landowners, and a Perceval could marry