Page 22 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“Miss Mifford,” she called across to Charlotte, “Your cousins are all married—or nearly all married. Shall we expect you in London next season to search for a husband?”
Charlotte turned bright pink at being addressed so directly, while Eudora felt her ears burn at the insinuation that she was almost engaged to Lord Delaney. The blame for the rumour could be laid squarely at her mother’s feet. Still, she did not doubt that her sisters had also played a part in creating the illusion that a proposal was on the cards.
“I’m not certain that, for a woman of my background, finding a husband will be as easy as falling off a piece of cake,” Charlotte replied, earning herself a perplexed look from the dowager duchess.
“Of course it will be easy,” Cecilia huffed once she had untangled the meaning of Charlotte’s words, “You are a very pretty girl with very good family connections - any gentleman would be happy to have you.”
“I don’t want just any gentleman, your Grace,” Charlotte replied, this time in earnest, “I should like to fall in love.”
“Love?” the duchess raised a faintly amused brow, “Marrying for love is a scam invented by men with no fortune to offer. You young ladies read far too many of those Gothic romances from Minerva Press. No, we’ll find you a good man with a great fortune and see you set up as mistress of a nice home.”
“Is Lord Percival in the market for a wife?” Mrs Mifford piped up, “He’s titled, wealthy -”
“ - and almost dead,” Emily, who was seated beside Eudora, whispered in her ear. Unfortunately, Emily’s idea of what constituted a whisper was rather loud, and her comment reached Cecilia’s ears.
“Some might say that almost dead is an ideal trait to look for in a wealthy husband,” Cecilia replied, with a tinkling laugh, “But, I’m afraid that poor Percy shall never marry again. In his dotage, his mind has returned to the past - to his lost love…”
Cecilia trailed off and heaved a theatrical sigh, indicating she was happy to elaborate if pressed.
Mary took the bait, leaning forward in her chair, her blue eyes curious, “Oh, do tell us what happened.”
Cecilia demurred a moment, fluttering her fan against her chest. “I shouldn’t like to monopolise the conversation,” she said.
“Yes, let us talk of other matters,” Mrs Mifford said, her expression churlish.
However, she was overruled by a chorus of protests—including from Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling, who had spent most of dinner trying to remain inconspicuous.
“Oh, alright,” Cecilia replied, with good nature, “Lord Percival’s family seat is in Sussex - he holds the Earldom of Arundel - and his estate bordered that of a baron. The baron had one daughter - beautiful, kind, and the love of Percy’s life. When he went down to Oxford, there was an informal understanding between the families that he and the daughter would wed.However, whilst studying beneath the dreaming spires, Percy made an enemy.”
Here, Cecilia paused, and Eudora realised that the enemy she spoke of was Lord Albermay. The duchess’ face wore a momentarily worried expression as though a thought had just struck her, but it quickly faded and she resumed her tale.
“This gentleman,” she said, taking care not to name names, “Was rather jealous of Percy, for Percy regularly bested him in debates, took his title as fencing champion, and his spot on the rowing team.”
“It is difficult to picture Lord Percival as an athlete,” Emily observed, voicing what everyone was thinking.
“He still is,” Cecilia replied, with an indulgent smile, “He rides every morning and has several footmen he practices fencing with, in the afternoon - by all accounts, they come out of the fencing meets battered and bruised.”
Eudora felt a stab of pity for Lord Percival’s poor footmen, whom she guessed would prefer not to be attacked daily with a fence by their employer. However, there was no time to dwell on their misfortune, for Cecilia continued her tale.
“This gentleman became so infuriated with Percy besting him at every corner that he devised a plan for revenge,” Cecilia continued, her tone dark and dramatic, “He learned of Percy’s love for the baron’s daughter and set off to meet with her father. He promised the man an outrageous fortune in exchange for her hand, and as the baron’s own fortunes had waned, he accepted his offer.”
“No,” Charlotte breathed, her eyes misty, “How cruel.”
“Indeed,” Cecilia agreed, “The gentleman spent a season parading his new fiancée under Percy’s nose, and in a fit of despair, Percy decided to marry another. The moment the ink had dried on the Parish Register, Lord Alber- er, the gentleman- called off the engagement to the poor chit. But the tale getsworse; her father had borrowed heavily on the expectation of the fortune that had been promised and soon fell into destitution. Percy’s love was forced to take up a position as a governess to the family of some nabob. When the family returned to India, she took a strange fever and died before her twenty-first year.”
“How tragic,” Eudora commented; had Lord Albermay not intervened, Lord Percival’s love interest might still be alive.
“But, why did she and Lord Percival not simply elope?” Emily queried, interrupting Eudora’s musings.
“Such things only happen in novels,” Cecilia sighed in reply, “You are thinking with a modern mind; in my day, one did everything for one’s family. The poor girl might have wanted to marry Percy, but if the fortune that was promised for her hand was enough to save her family, then what choice did she have? And, I might remind you, none of what transpired was her fault; the blame lies squarely with the gentleman.”
“Men can be so cruel,” Mrs Mifford declared, glad to finally be able to add to the conversation.
“Speak of the devil, and you shall have idle hands,” Charlotte quipped as the door to the drawing room opened, and the menfolk began to file in.
Eudora was loathe to believe that any of the men present were as capable of such cruelty as Lord Albermay - excepting his son, perhaps. Her eyes soon focused on Lord Percival, who had seated himself beside Cecilia, and she wondered if it was he who had killed the viscount.
Lord Delaney - Robert - had dismissed the idea. But, if his advanced age did not prevent him from riding and fencing every day, then Lord Percival was surely also capable of murder?
