Chapter 4: Fateful Decisions

Once again, Dorwich House hosted the ton of the ton for a ball. Once again the hostess and Lady Anne Tarleton descended the stairs together. “Are you going to dance all night?” Anne asked Lenora.

“I shall save out two dances for rest periods,” Lenora responded. “Look!” She showed her dance card with the fourth and seventh lines filled out ‘sit.’ Seeing those, Anne could also see that the eighth dance was marked, ‘Dorwich.’

“Very wise,” Anne said. She now needed no trickery to know which dance was a waltz. At the bottom of the stairs, she recognized several men, including her two suitors. When she got to Lord Lionel, she allowed him the eighth dance. By the time she was claimed for the fourth dance, her card was full. She should have gloried in that popularity; she should have given her entire attention to each dance partner in turn; she should have given special attention to her suitors. Half her mind, though, was on her eighth dance. It would be a waltz with Lord Lionel. Her smile, however, pleased several of her dancing partners.

Finally, the moment arrived. Her seventh partner delivered her to a sitting Lady Dorwich and kissed her hand. James came for Lenora, but the two of them waited until Lord Lionel had claimed her. Then the waltz began and his strong arms swept her up into the dance.

Lionel seemed to be holding her closer than ever. He spoke only French, and he complimented her appearance. He began with her hair, which he had mentioned before. He mentioned her ears, and the breadth and smoothness of her forehead. Neither of these had ever struck her as points of beauty. He had nice things to say about her eyebrows, which was pleasant since Joyce had spent ten minutes this afternoon smoothing them and plucking several stray hairs. “But,” he said, “your center of greatest beauty is your eyes -- luscious, dark brown eyes. I fear drowning in those pools when I look in them too long.” He went on to compliment her mouth, chin, and throat. When the music ended, they were about as far from where Charles was waiting for her as one could get on the dance floor.

“Let me speak English,” he said as he walked her across the floor. They were nearly alone. Skilled dancers would usually waltz so that the last strains of the waltz found them close to where the man would leave his partner. “I want to be clearly understood. Lady Anne, I have been quite attracted to you this Season. My attraction may have been obvious to you; I wager that it has been obvious to your family. I have enjoyed our dances together, our conversations together. I have been impressed by your talents, your comeliness, and your modesty. Lady Anne, would you do me the honor of considering being my wife?”

The beginning of the speech should have prepared her for the end, but the question took her completely by surprise. She bit her tongue to keep from accepting then and there.

Instead, she responded as she had twice before: “Mister Grant, you do me great honor. Allow me time to consider this and discuss it with my family.”

“Certainly,” he said, “Thank you for your consideration -- and for the dance.” He kissed her hand and left her there, a yard from her brother.

“And what was that?” Charles asked. She was saved from answering by her partner for the next dance, who had been waiting there. A quadrille was not the best occasion to sort out one’s feelings, but Anne suspected that solitude would not have helped her sort out this. Lionel Grant wanted her, and she wanted him. Now, all she needed was the consent of her family. Lenora was the likeliest; she endorsed and practiced marriage for love. Were Lenora convinced, she could probably bring along James. Charles liked her, he had spoiled his baby sister when he was not too busy torturing or teasing her. Deborah was hopeless. Mother and Father were going to be difficult. The last dances and the dinner were exercises in perseverance.

When Lenora took the women into the largest parlor, Anne signaled that she wanted a private conversation. They were soon in the hallway.

“I have had another proposal,” said Anne. This one is from Mister Grant.”

“And,” asked Lenora, “did you accept this one?” Anne could not understand how Lenora knew her preference! She shook her head ‘no.’ “Well, report it to your mother tonight. As far as the family is concerned, you have three proposals. They have no reason to refuse this one any more than they refused the two previous ones. Until the decision is the one you want, you should be willing to delay the decision. Is that not so?”

“You are so wise!”

Before going to sleep that night, Anne told Mother. She knew that word would get to Father before he came down to breakfast.

Ready for bed, Lenora tapped on the connecting door to James’s room. He was already in bed, not needing his hair brushed the way she did.

“I thought to let you sleep this night,” he said. He swept back the blankets to make room for her.

“I came to talk. Mister Grant has proposed to Anne. She had the presence of mind to ask for time to consider.”

“I thought you said that she was chasing him.”

“She was. Now they want each other, and this is serious. I see no reason to oppose the match except overweening vanity. Grant is the son of an earl, for god’s sake. As the daughter of a baron, I do not see that as a total lack of distinction.”

“I shall admit that he is eligible. The question is whether he is the best match for Anne. How is he better than Barnell?”

“Anne loves him.”

“Is that better than a title and a full purse?”

“I keep remembering the quotation I heard from Madame Gallienne, ‘Where there is marriage without love, there will be love without marriage.’ I wish that Anne suffer neither of these.”

“Who said that?”

“Doctor Franklin, the American insurrectionist and natural philosopher. Madame Gallienne met him once and was much impressed. She improved her English before ‘89 by reading his popular writings.”

“I like Anne. You are certain of what she wants. Are you certain of what she needs?”

“The last bush I passed had not yet ignited. If Anne, however, faces unhappiness as a result of her decisions, how is that different from the lot of all men? If she faces unhappiness as the result of her family’s decisions, then you will have brought bitterness into your family. After all, of the four of you, who knows best what Anne enjoys? Is she certain to be correct? Not at all. Is anyone else? Not at all.”

“And Deborah is certain to be wrong.”

“Not certain. Not even Deborah.” She kissed him good night and went back to her own room.

The proposal was the main subject of conversation at luncheon in Dorwich House. “Three proposals, now;” Stroud said, “and the Season is far from over. I know you worried, Anne. See how immaterial those worries were?”

“The imbalance this Season worried everybody,” Lady Stroud said.

“It should not have worried Lady Anne,” said Henry Walton, who had also attended the ball and stayed over. “Had I thought there was any chance, I should have put in a bid myself.” Everyone accepted that as the gallantry it was. Had Henry been even considering marriage, this was the year to patronize the balls. Instead, he had attended few other than those where his sister needed extra men.

The proposal was also a subject of discussion at Darrow House. “I heard no suggestion that the ton would be split,” said George. “Most of the comments I heard last night, from both Whig and Tory, suggested that Balden was an ass.”

“I may have solved our problem,” said Lionel. “I proposed to Lady Anne Tarleton last night.”

“Tarleton?” responded George. “Daughter of a marquess with thirty thousand pounds of dowry. Aren’t you reaching above yourself a bit?”

“And,” Lionel continued the thought, “Dorwich’s sister with two previous proposals. Proposals, I point out, that she has neither accepted nor refused. Which means that my proposal may well hang fire another two months before being declined. But, like theirs, my proposal will be known across the ton. The mamas might well have an opinion of my chances less derogatory than yours, brother. They cannot think it all that high. Therefore, what am I in the eyes of a mama?

“I am a man in the market for a wife. I have already proposed once, and have not been refused as yet. I am virtually certain to be refused, which makes me a future candidate for her dear chick. And I, of course, may not in honor propose again until I have been refused. Thus, if I have not proposed to her chick, it signifies no lack of interest. The mamas will want me at the balls; the hostesses may well follow their lead. Some hostesses are mamas.”

“It seems a mean trick to play on Lady Anne Tarleton,” Lady Fenhurst said. “Is she so nasty a girl that she deserves such treatment?”

“She was kind enough to me,” Sophia said. “She and Lady Dorwich both. And the debutantes of this Season can be vile towards each other.”

“Of every Season, dear,” Lady Fenhurst said. “They are all vying for the same prizes.”

“Where do I harm the chit?” Lionel asked. He had expected simple praise for his solution to their problem, which -- after all -- involved the self-sacrifice of putting himself in the mamas’ sights. “The lady now has three, count them, three proposals. She might set the record for this Season. And this is likely to go down in history as a difficult Season. Sophia is a beauty, and she has yet to receive her first. When she quarrels with Chadwick in later decades, she will be able to say ‘I could have been happier as Mrs. Grant.’ And the earl will not be able to prove her wrong. What harm to the girl?”

“And,” George asked. “if she accepts? The family might well consider even you a better choice than Chadwick.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence. As Sophia has said, Lady Anne is a pleasant person. I trust courtesy to Sophia more than courtesy to myself, though she has always shown that. We are all playing a part on the dance floor. She is comely enough, certainly. And look at her mother -- Lady Anne is no fragile beauty. She dances divinely. She speaks intelligently. As you said, she is a step or two above my reach. I would gladly wed her.”

“And what would she get?”

“Nothing which she cannot see. I have neither secret debts nor secret vices. I expect her to choose another, Chadwick unless she receives even more proposals; but -- were she to choose me -- I would not have cozened her.”

Whether from the increased desirability of the newly available Lionel or from the consensus that the ton was much more important than the politics with which the Earl of Balden had tried to tear it apart, the Grants received invitations to almost all the balls of the next month and a half.

The weather cleared, and Baron Wrigam invited Sophia and Lionel to ride with him in St. James Park. As there was still snow on the ground and some wind; few others were riding. Wrigam called a halt downwind from a grove. The wind was as quiet as they could expect on that day. Sophia rode up beside him with Lionel a discreet distance behind.

“Lady Sophia,” Wrigam blurted, “I think the world of you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Sophia looked surprised, but pleased. Lionel rode up on the other side of Wrigam.

“Milord,” he said, “this honor comes as a surprise to my sister. Could you allow her some time to absorb the news and come to a decision?”

“Of course.” They returned to Darrow House soon enough. None of them really wanted a ride in that weather.

The family decided to allow a month for Sir John to make his bid. “The Tarletons have kept me dangling longer than that,” Lionel pointed out. Not that he had pressed his suit. His present status was perfect. The mamas saw him as unavailable just yet.

Sophia, whom Lionel had expected to urge haste, was amenable to any amount of delay. “I am now one of the girls who has received a proposal,” she said. “If not the belle of the Season, I am among the more fortunate. Give me some time to enjoy that status.” He could not see that accepting an engagement would lower her status, but -- perhaps -- it was a different status which she could also foresee. Certainly, it was in the family’s interest to see whether Randolph would propose.

The next night there was a ball at which Wrigam took Sophia’s first dance, as was proper. She gave her second to Sir John. There was a little contremps when Robert, Earl Foster, asked Sophia for the dinner dance and was put off. He was one of the perpetual bachelors who enjoyed dancing with her. She gave him the third dance, and the dinner dance to Dorwich. Lionel got Lady Anne’s third dance, after Chadwick and Barnell. The dance was a quadrille.

Foster visited Darrow house early the next afternoon and asked to speak with George on urgent business. After a minimum of social greeting and refusing a brandy, he got down to the business.

“It was all the chatter last night that Wrigam has proposed to Lady Sophia. Can you tell me whether she has accepted?”

“She has taken it under advisement.”

“Would it be possible for me to speak with your sister?” George sent a footman for Sophia, and the two of them settled into chairs in the reception parlor to wait. The conversation was stilted. Having had his offer of brandy refused, George felt that it would be rude to drink one himself. Still, it would have been something. Sophia took an ungodly time answering. She entered dressed more formally than he had last seen her and with her hair arrayed in an upsweep. She never dressed her hair the morning after a ball -- something to do with the hair needing a rest. In the time he had been talking with Foster about nothing, Sophia had changed and had her hair done. Foster immediately rose and went to where she was standing by the door.

“Lady Sophia, your brother tells me that you have not given your hand. Is your heart also free?”

“I fail to see, milord,” Sophia answered in a quite spiteful tone, “how that concerns you in the least.” George was about to chastise her and apologize to Foster for her words. The latter forestalled him by sinking to his knee.

“Lady Sophia, would you do me the signal honor of accepting my hand in matrimony?”

“Oh, Robert,” said Sophia, “Yes!” Foster rose and kissed her.

“Now!” George said, He rose and clapped Foster on the shoulder. The earl immediately dropped his arms from around Sophia’s back. George had to peal Sophia’s arms from around Foster’s neck before the kiss was ended, however. “You understand, milord, that Sophia needs time to consider this proposal.”

“Of course,” said Earl Foster. George gave Sophia a look to tell her that she should go away. Sophia’s face looked more defiant than he had ever seen it. The earl kissed her hand at the front door. George physically interposed himself in Sophia’s way to keep her from following Lord Robert out the door.

Sophia managed to tell her mother about the proposal before luncheon. Lionel was the only one surprised by the announcement during the meal. “Quite a surprise!” he said. “Are we going to wait to see what more proposals she will receive.”

“You just want an elopement,” Sophia said, “to spare you the cost of the wedding.”

“No-one said a word about elopement.”

“That,” Sophia declared. “will be the consequence of any delay.”

“After all,” Lady Fenhurst said in her soothing-the-squabbling-children voice, “it is the marriage we would have chosen if Sophia were undecided and Sir John had asked as well. Sometimes, a family must restrain a girl from making a totally unacceptable choice. This is not one of those times. Do you really think there is a duke hovering in the wings?”

“I would refuse a duke.”

“Hush, Sophia, I am arguing your case.”

“You did not see, Mother,” George said, “the way she kissed that man.”

“So? Is she compromised? Will you demand a proposal? You have no recourse for the way she behaves. Were she young enough to switch, her brother should never be the one to administer a switching. You are head of the family in most ways, but not that. I do believe, Sophia, that Wrigam deserves an answer before you announce your engagement. A note will do.”

“Certainly, Mother. I shall write as soon as I leave the table.” Sophia was eager to obey in any way that would bring her closer to her desire. The family invited Earl Foster to a formal luncheon where Sophia accepted. The announcement was sent to the Times.

The Season continued, and other proposals were tendered. No more came to Lady Anne Tarleton. Lady Stroud invited the entire family to luncheon. The topic, although not mentioned, was clear to each who received the invitation. Anne visited Lenora, as well as Walter, the day before.

“Are you fixed on Mr. Grant?”

“Yes, I love him.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes!”

“There is little consequence from lying to me. Are you also lying to yourself?”

“Oh, Lenora. I love him.”

“That I believe. Are you determined to marry him even if he does not love you?”