Page 30 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
The Turner sisters bobbed a curtsy in response to Arial’s tone, but the widow was made of sterner stuff. She acknowledged Arial with nothing more than “Harrumph.”
Then she gave Arial her shoulder and started in on Peter again. “I demand you dismiss your coachman. I wanted to be here in London long before this. However, he insisted on stopping for the night. Absolutely refused my command to keep traveling and pulled into an inn where he told them to stable the horses. You must write to the innkeeper and complain. Am I nobody, to have my wishes ignored? Furthermore, the room was most uncomfortable.”
Peter idly wondered how she had afforded a room, let alone the changes of horses needed between Three Oaks and London. Clearly, her claims that she had spent the whole of her allowance (on absolute essentials, apparently) were as fictional as her supposed affection for Peter.
“I will congratulate John Coachman on refusing to risk the horses, and incidentally your necks, driving in the dark. I expect my servants to follow my orders even where they conflict with yours, Madam.”
She glared at him, and Peter waited for the next onslaught. However, Pauline tugged on her mother’s arm. Her whisper was nonetheless loud enough to hear. “Careful. Remember what we talked about.”
The widow took a deep breath and visibly composed herself before pasting on a shark’s imitation of a smile—all teeth and no kindness. “There, but I should not scold. You have done what I told you, Beau, and taken yourself a wealthy bride. Now we are rich again, we have come up to London to enjoy the Season.” She turned her attention to Arial. “Have rooms prepared for us, daughter-in-law. Mine must be on the quiet side, away from the street. I am a martyr to sleeplessness. We will need a room each, and one for our baggage. Or perhaps a dressing room? Do you have one with a dressing room? My girls will need a maid each. Peter made us manage with only my dresser between the three of us, but that will never do now we are rich again.”
While Peter stood gaping at this latest insolence, Arial smiled gently. “I fear you are under a misapprehension, Lady Ransome. I know it is vulgar to talk about money, but I think we might be forgiven in this one instance when it would be best for all of us to understand what the financial situation is. It is true that I was a wealthy bride. Thanks to the marriage settlements, I am now a wealthy wife. Peter has also benefited, not least because his estates are now—or soon will be—unencumbered. We have discussed what we might do about his poor relations and other family connections such as yourself.”
The dowager Lady Ransome interrupted at that point. “I am hardly a connection. I am his father’s widow. I stand in place of a mother to him. My daughters are his sisters.”
Peter decided it was time to assert himself. “Sit down, Lady Ransome, and do not speak until Arial and I have finished what we have to say. If you cannot keep quiet and listen, I will have the footmen put you and your daughters on the street.”
The widow purpled and opened her mouth. Arial spoke before she could release whatever invective and accusations she had on her tongue. “If you listen, we will tell what we are prepared to offer to your advantage. Today. On this one occasion. Or you can protest and be ejected. For your daughters’ sake, I suggest you listen.”
Laura and Pauline, one on each side, guided their mother toward a sofa, begging her, “Mother, please, Mother.” The old harpy subsided to a seat, a daughter on either side.
Arial nodded to Peter, who had remained standing. He looked down on the trio, his face grave. “It is my view, which my wife shares and with which my solicitor concurs, that I owe you, Madam, nothing beyond the allowance left to you by my father. Indeed, Mr. Richards notes that the dower fund my father set up for you, the interest on which should have formed your allowance, has long since been ransacked. He gives as his opinion that I owe you nothing more than the interest on what remains of that fund.”
The widow had paled. “But I was promised!”
Peter kept talking as if she had said nothing. “As for Laura and Pauline, their support is the obligation of their father’s family. My father made no provision, except to state an amount for their dowries. Again, those funds are gone.” He looked at each of the sisters in turn. “I have no legal obligation, and no ties of blood or affection.”
Arial silenced the sisters’ outcry. “However…”
Into the sudden quiet, Peter continued. “My wife and I propose to reinstate those dowries. We also propose to continue the allowance that my father specified for his widow. Further,as long as either Laura or Pauline continues to live with their mother, we will pay double the allowance.”
The dowager’s eyes sharpened. “You mean, for as long as Laura, Pauline, or Vivienne lives with me.”
“Vivienne will be living with me.” Peter’s statement allowed for no misinterpretation, but his stepmother began to argue, claiming that she could not let her darling little girl leave her side. Peter had no sympathy. Since Vivienne’s birth, she cheerfully left her daughter in the country for months at a time while she enjoyed an active social round. Even when they were in the same house, she barely set eyes on her child. The butler paid Vivienne more attention than her own mother did.
Arial spoke again. “Lord Ransome is Vivienne’s guardian. You would be wise to accept that. Carry on, Peter. Tell them what else we are offering.”
Peter nodded. “In addition, Laura and Pauline, your respective dowries will become yours absolutely if, at the age of twenty-five, you are still unwed.” Pauline sat up straighter, her eyes widened.
“We will also purchase a townhouse here in London. My wife will be the owner of record, but the three of you may live there rent-free until Lady Ransome remarries or dies, whichever comes first.”
“I want to select my own house,” the widow declaimed.
“That may be acceptable,” Arial replied. “It would have to be at or under the amount we are prepared to spend, and we would need to ensure that it is physically sound and does not have other faults that would make it unsuitable. Alternatively, we can commission an agent to work to a list of your requirements, as well as our own, and you may select from the houses that the agent finds.”
Peter took his turn. “I should make it clear that the offer comes with conditions. First, you will agree that we have nofurther obligations of any kind to the three of you. You will further agree that you will not seek to have my guardianship and custody of Vivienne overturned, either through legal means or by applying social pressure. Finally, none of you will criticize myself or my wife in any way. If you breach any of these conditions, the agreement is void. The dowries will be forfeit. The allowance will end. You will need to find new accommodation.”
The look on the faces of his nemesis and her offspring as they digested the deal put before them was almost satisfaction enough to make up for paying them off.
Laura took out a handkerchief—a dainty square that was more lace than fabric—and dabbed at her eyes. Peter easily ignored the blatant bid for sympathy, thinking of long ago when the three furies had driven him from his home, and of more recent years, when they had made Rose’s life miserable. The spendthrift ways of all three had contributed to bankrupting the estate. His stepmother’s treatment of Rose, on its own, meant she didn’t deserve a tenth of the consideration he and Arial were giving.
“If it were up to me,” he said, “I would have cut you off without a penny. You can thank my wife for convincing me to provide what I have offered.” She had practical arguments for the decision.
Arial had convinced him that Society’s fickle sympathies would be with the widow and her daughters if he had followed his first impulse. He had to think of Arial’s reputation and of later establishing Viv and Rose in Society.
Arial spoke next. “This offer is nonnegotiable, ladies. Mr. Richards will have it written out for you as a contract by the end of today. You will have two days to consider it and consult a solicitor of your own, should you choose to do so. At the end ofthat time, we will consider that you have rejected the offer, and that we have no further obligation to any of you.”
*
