Jessica Franklin came to Bath to marry a rich man--and she was delighted to find handsome Matthew Walsingham with every qualification. Matthew, however, had come to Bath for the same purpose, regarding Miss Franklin as the perfect wife--wealthy and beautiful. When they discovered the truth, they had to reassess the situation--and their hearts. Originally published by Harlequin
Jessica's story:
Jessica gazed unseeing at her plate.
"Mr. Scunthwaite wants to marry me."
After a moment of heavy silence her
brother said tentatively, "I don't suppose..."
"Nathan, he's fifty and fat!"
"And shockingly vulgar," Miss
Tibbett added.
"I see. Then of course that's out
of the question." This time he took her hand. She knew the
despair in his hazel eyes was mirrored in her own.
"Marriage!" said Miss Tibbett
in a portentous voice. They both turned and stared at her. The long,
narrow face bore a look of excitement usually reserved for the
acquisition of a new volume of some obscure treatise on Roman
Britain. As she nodded meaningfully, her spectacles, perched on
top of her head, slid down to entangle themselves in loops of
iron grey hair and the ribbons of her plain cambric cap. "That
is the answer," she continued, fiddling in an absentminded way
with the eyeglasses which now dangled over one ear. "I wonder
that I did not think of it sooner."
"But Tibby, you agreed that I
cannot possibly marry that dreadful man." As she spoke, Jessica
moved around the table to assist in the disentanglement, a task she
performed so frequently as to make it automatic.
"There is more than one fish in
the sea. Thank you, dear." She returned the spectacles to her
nose and peered over them as Jessica resumed her seat. "One of
you must find a wealthy spouse."
Sunk in gloom, Nathan did not respond.
"That is all very well,"
Jessica objected, "but, though I don't mean to boast, most of
the eligible gentlemen in the county have been my suitors at one
time or another and the few rich ones are already wed."
"County Durham is a desert. We
must go to Aquae Sulis!”
"To Bath? It's true that the
heroines of novels are forever finding husbands there. I suppose
there is no other reason for choosing that city?"
Miss Tibbett blushed. "I cannot
deny an ulterior motive," she said guiltily. "I have longed
this age to see the Roman remains. However, Bath has other
advantages. The London Season is almost over, and besides,
London is bound to be more expensive."
"And it is easier to gain entrée
to Bath Society, I believe." Jessica was beginning to
consider the suggestion seriously. "The cost of post horses
would be prohibitive, but we could go on the stage, and there must be
cheap lodgings to be found."
"Oh dear no, that will never do.
If you wish to attract the right sort of person, you must keep
up appearances."
"Yes, of course. I shall sell
Great-Aunt Matilda's diamonds and we shall do the thing in
style."
"No!" Nathan exploded. "I
cannot allow you to sell your most valuable jewels for my sake."
"They are too hideously
old-fashioned to wear," Jessica pointed out. "Besides, it
will be for my sake, too. I have no objection to catching a wealthy
husband, just so he be amiable, and even if we fail it will be a
famous adventure. You have been all the way to America, but I have
never gone farther afield than Eboracum and Hadrian's Wall."
"Eboracum?" Nathan
looked blank. He had spent fewer years under Miss Tibbett's tutelage
than his sister.
"The Roman name for York,"
the governess reminded him.
He made an impatient gesture. "If
you are willing to sell the diamonds, Jess, will they not bring
enough to pay for the lease?" he asked.
"No, I had already thought of that
and had them valued in Durham, but they would pay for a few weeks in
Bath and even enable us to cut a dash." Jessica's hazel
eyes sparkled at the prospect.
"I cannot countenance such
deceit!" cried Nathan. "To put on a show so as to lure
innocents into our net would be utterly dishonourable. I had rather
resign myself to living in genteel poverty."
"So should not I." The
sparkle in her eyes was now militant. "I don't mean to suggest
that you should elope with an heiress without her parents'
permission. If I am so lucky as to receive an offer from the right
sort of gentleman, you may be sure I shall not accept it without
revealing my true circumstances. Think of Langdale, Nathan. Can you
bear to let it go, after it has been in the family for two centuries,
without making every effort to keep it?"
"Of course not," he said
wretchedly. "If only there was another way! Surely it would be
enough for one of us to marry?"
"To be sure, but if we both make
the attempt it will double our chances. You might succeed where I
fail. On the other hand, if I am betrothed before you, then you can
withdraw from the hunt. The search, I mean," she amended. "Hunt"
sounded shockingly mercenary, and her brother's tender sensibilities
must be spared.
"I wish I had not sold out,"
he groaned. "Perhaps I should re-enlist and dash over to Belgium
to fight Boney."
"Nathan, no!" Jessica was
aghast. "You have done your duty for your country and now it's
time to think of yourself and your family."
"Don't worry, Jess, I'm tired of
fighting." He managed to smile. "All I want is to
settle down and raise sheep. It did not seem too much to hope for."
Matthew's story:
His aunt patted his arm. "I have often
thought that your enthusiastic embrace of the amusements of Town was
more of an attempt to forget the horrors of war than a defect of
character."
He lifted her hand to his lips and
kissed it. Half his friends dead in the Peninsula and himself laid up
for the better part of a year, not knowing if he would ever walk
again—yes, the horrors of war was one way to describe it. "Dearest
Aunt, you may just be right." His smile was crooked. "However,
it's past time to put the wretched business behind me. I shall strive
to become a useful citizen."
"That seems to be your best
course," she said, laughing at his dismal tone, "unless you
can find an heiress to marry."
His fork half way to his mouth, he
stopped with an arrested look. "Now there is a famous notion. It
will take some time to set up as an architect, so I might as well
look about me for a rich bride in the meantime."
"Why not? Bath was said to be a
fertile ground for fortune hunters in my youth. The living was
cheaper and the competition less than in London."
She was teasing, but the more Matthew
thought about it the more it seemed an excellent solution. At worst.
Bath would provide superb buildings for him to study in pursuit of
his new profession.
"And it's only fifteen miles,"
he said, "so I shan't spend a penny on post horses getting
there."
"You really mean to do it?"
"Don't look so worried. Aunt. I've
no intention of abducting my heiress should I be so lucky as to find
one. All fair and square and above board." Well, nearly, he
admitted to himself. If he was perfectly honest about his comparative
poverty he would never meet an heiress in the first place. He'd have
to put up a show. "I don't suppose it would be possible to stay
at Uncle Horace's house on North Parade?"
"He never goes there," she
said doubtfully, "since he blames the waters for ruining his
digestion. Certainly they always made him bilious. He has really only
kept the house because when there are no tenants I like to spend a
few days there occasionally. In fact he was talking of selling it,
and it is not let at present, I believe."
"Be a dear and give me a letter to
the housekeeper," he coaxed. "Is it still the same woman?"
"Yes. She always had a soft spot
for you and never fails to ask after you. Very well, Matthew, I shall
aid and abet you in this horrid scheme, and we must hope that my
brother never comes to hear of it."
"On the contrary. I cannot think
of anything more like to persuade him of my respect for money than to
turn up with a wealthy wife on my arm."
"Possibly." She shook her
head wryly. "I can let you have twenty pounds to keep the wolf
from the door for the present."
"Bless you, but if I am to save
the cost of lodgings by staying in North Parade, I can manage until
quarter day. That's what is so infuriating about the whole
business," he added with a rueful grin. "Uncle Horace
is on his high ropes because of that wager—and I won it!"
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