The Matchmaker's Marriage

By Meg Alexander

From good friends to the ideal match!

Despite constant admonitions to be discreet, Amy Wentworth had never learned to hold her tongue! Bright, honest and forthright, she couldn’t bear any form of unkindness, and it was her good nature that made her take Miss Charlotte Skelmersdale under her wing.

It had seemed like a good idea to make a match for Charlotte with Sir James Richmond. But somehow Amy found she couldn’t do it. James was everything she herself wanted in a husbandnow Amy just needed to convince him!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Dec 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781459225237

Meg Alexander

Meg Alexander has been writing since childhood. Her first efforts were plays to be performed by her brothers, sister and cousins as family entertainment at Christmas time.    She married at nineteen and had a son. During his childhood she concentrated on freelance journalism, writing on crime, psychology, gardening, travel and cookery. At thirty-eight the breakdown of her marriage brought the need to earn more money. For the next twenty years she claims to have ‘lived on her wits', becoming a representative for a textile firm in the north of England, and a professional cook in exalted circles. Then she moved into administration, as Assistant Director of the British Red Cross Society's Conference Centre, and later managing a large Hall of Residence for students of King's College, London.    During this time she gained a BA Degree from the Open University. When Meg retired she moved to Spain, where she wrote a weekly gardening column for an English language newspaper. The Costa Blanca News, and travel and cookery pieces for Inter-express. After eight years the call of grandchildren was too strong and she moved back to England, settling first in Kent and then in East Sussex.    She began to write historical fiction, encouraged by winning first prize in a competition run by Writers' News for the best opening chapter of a historical romance. The judge was a senior editor from Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd. She asked to see the rest of the book, but even after two re-writes it wasn't considered suitable for publication. The same thing happened with a second book, but Meg was third-time lucky. The Last Enchantment, a Regency Romance was published in 1995.

Book preview

Chapter One

1817

Mrs Emmeline Skelmersdale raised her lorgnette to inspect the cream of Bath society with a critical eye. Then she settled her satin turban more securely upon her elaborate coiffure and turned to her companion.

‘You may say what you will, Clarissa,’ she announced, ‘but let me warn you. I shall listen to no more excuses about the behaviour of that Wentworth girl. Just look at her now, laughing and chattering to that oddity, James Richmond, in the most unbecoming way!’

Clarissa Melville was startled. To her certain knowledge Miss Wentworth’s name had not passed her lips that evening, but she knew better than to argue.

‘I do not know the gentleman,’ she said cautiously. ‘Is he a recent visitor to Bath?’

‘You must know of him,’ came the tart reply. ‘But if you will go away for months on end you cannot expect to be au fait with what is happening here at present. Richmond is a connection of Beatrice Langrishe. I believe he is the son of one of her oldest friends.’

‘Is he a naval man? He looks quite brown and weather-beaten.’

‘Nothing so interesting, my dear. He goes about the world digging up antiquities in India and Egypt and other outlandish places. Beatrice has bored us sadly with stories of his brilliance. We were all agog to meet him when he returned two days ago, but I find him disappointing.’

‘Why so? He looks every inch the gentleman—’

‘Well, if you consider it gentlemanly to speak in public about obscurities and things that no one has ever heard of, you are entitled to your opinion. Skelmersdale finds him interesting, but I find it affected to sprinkle a conversation with long words. I cannot understand one half of what he says…’

Mr Richmond’s companion appeared to find no difficulty in understanding him.

‘What have you been doing to the lady with the lorgnette, Amy?’ he teased. ‘If looks could kill, you would be lying dead at my feet.’

‘Which one is that?’ Amy looked about the room. ‘Oh, I see! You must mean Mrs Skelmersdale… I’m not her favourite person since I refused her son.’

‘And why did you do that?’ James smiled down at her.

‘You wouldn’t ask if you had met him. He is a pompous bore. I wish you might have heard his offer for me. He was kind enough to explain that he was prepared to make allowances for the feeble nature of a woman’s intellect. His duty would be to guide my thoughts into the proper channels.’

‘A red rag to a bull, my dear?’ James was laughing openly. ‘I must hope that he escaped with his life…’

‘Only just!’ Amy grinned at him. ‘Besides, had he been the most charming creature in the world, Mrs Skelmersdale would most certainly prove to be the mother-in-law from hell!’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear, I should not have said that, should I?’

‘No, you should not, you wicked imp! Amy, you haven’t changed since you were ten years old. What are we to do with you?’

‘You sound like Mother,’ Amy mourned, ‘who can’t think how she came to produce such wayward creatures as Perdita and myself…’

‘And your father?’

‘Papa just laughs. He says that he can guess.’

James chuckled. The lovely Elizabeth Wentworth was renowned as much for her outspoken views as her beauty.

‘Your parents must have been delighted by Perdita’s marriage to Rushmore,’ he continued. ‘I met him some years ago, and liked him very much.’

‘He and Perdita are so very happy, especially since she is now expecting…’ Amy paused. ‘I suppose that is something else which must not be mentioned in polite society.’

‘I hope you don’t regard me merely as a member of polite society, my dear. You may speak of anything you wish. I promise that I won’t be shocked.’

‘Dear James!’ Amy laid an affectionate hand upon his arm. She had recalled too late that the mention of Perdita’s coming child might bring back unhappy memories of his own loss. ‘I may not have changed, but neither have you in all the years you’ve been away. I am always perfectly at ease with you.’

He made her a little bow. ‘I am honoured, Amy, I value your good opinion… Are your parents with you?’ He looked about the Assembly Rooms.

‘No, they are gone to stay with Adam and Perdita. I am on loan to Aunt Trixie for these next few weeks. I’m to visit Perdita later in the year.’

‘So you are here to recover from the excitement of your Season? Tell me, did you enjoy it?’

‘Parts of it,’ she told him frankly. ‘It was my first, you know, and I loved the balls and the routs and the balloon ascents and the military displays. There is so much to do in London aside from all the parties. We saw the wild beasts in the Tower and the effigies at Madame Tussaud’s, and the shops put Bath in the shade.’

‘But…?’ he prompted.

‘Well, at times I did feel rather on sale to the highest bidder. You cannot know what it is like to walk into Almack’s and to be assessed so coldly by all the matchmaking mammas as to fortune and breeding potential.’

James regarded her with undisguised enjoyment. ‘Can’t you be more specific?’ he teased. ‘I take it that you were not tempted to bestow your hand upon any of their sons?’

‘No, I wasn’t, but it had its comic moments. It was vastly entertaining to watch the struggle between these ladies taking on an impossible daughter-in-law, and serious consideration of my fortune. Father did well in the wars, you see. His prize money was enormous. Then Aunt Trixie made me her heir, or should it be heiress? I am a catch, you see!’

This was too much for James. He shouted aloud with laughter.

‘Now you are behaving badly,’ Amy protested. ‘A gentleman must not laugh aloud. The merest twitch of the lips is all that is permitted.’

‘Good Lord, where did you get that outlandish notion?’

‘I’ve been reading Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to His Son. It’s a sort of manual of etiquette.’

‘Forget it!’ he advised. ‘His lordship meant well, but the son, alas, turned out to be a disappointment. All Chesterfield’s advice was wasted on him.’

‘I didn’t know that.’ Amy was intrigued. ‘But really, James, you must not laugh at me. These are serious problems.’

He chuckled again and then spun round as a hand rested lightly upon his shoulder.

‘Richmond, won’t you share the joke?’ a merry voice enquired. ‘You two good people seem to be enjoying yourselves to a rare degree…’

There was the faintest trace of an accent in the words, and Amy turned to confront a gentleman unlike any of her acquaintance. Stripped of his fine clothing he might have been taken for a gypsy. His hair had the glossy blue-black of a raven’s wing and the eyes that regarded her with open admiration were darker than any she had known. He bowed, apologising for his intrusion upon their conversation, but clearly determined upon an introduction.

‘Amy, this is the Comte de Vionnet,’ James Richmond said with some reluctance. ‘Philippe, pray make your bow to Miss Amy Wentworth.’

‘It will be a pleasure!’ The gentleman bowed low, and there was no trace of servility in his manner, and the eyes that met her own held a challenge.

Amy found it irresistible. ‘Are you recently arrived from France?’ she asked. ‘I thought the émigrés had left when the Terror started.’

‘Not all of them, Miss Wentworth. Some of us stayed behind in the hope of crushing the sans-culottes, but when the Corsican came upon the scene our cause was lost.’

‘I am sorry!’ Amy’s quick sympathies were always with the underdog. ‘But now, since Napoleon is defeated, your property must be returned to you—’

‘I must beg leave to doubt it, ma’am. Matters are not so simple. You see me as I must remain…a soldier of fortune…’ His voice held not the least trace of self-pity and Amy warmed to him.

Her companion was not so easily moved. ‘Amy, I believe that we should find your aunt,’ he said. ‘I have reserved a table in the supper room, so if Monsieur le Comte will excuse us…?’

Amy was furious with him. ‘Need you have been so rude?’ she hissed. ‘You might have asked Monsieur le Comte to join us. After all, he cannot know too many people here…’

‘I don’t expect he does,’ James said mildly. ‘But he’s a gregarious sort of fellow. He won’t be short of company for long.’

‘And much you care! Why do you hold him in such dislike?’

‘Have I said that I dislike him?’

‘You had no need to do so. I hate you when you look so…uppity!’

‘I am desolated!’

‘No, you are not! You don’t care a fig what I think. James Richmond, you are a bossy creature! Pray don’t think that you may order me about!’

‘I shouldn’t dream of it, my pet. Always, in your company, I am minded to preserve a whole skin!’

She was forced to laugh at that. ‘You are impossible! Now, James, you will admit that the Count is interesting. There was so much that I wished to ask him.’

‘Why not ask me?’ he offered helpfully.

‘Because you are not an émigré. I wanted to know how he found the courage to stay in France, knowing that he would be executed if he was discovered. I am a coward. I couldn’t have been brave when faced with the guillotine.’

James looked at her with some concern. ‘Amy, these are dark thoughts. Must you concern yourself with them?’

‘I think so.’ Then Amy smiled at him. ‘We are growing much too serious. Let us find my aunt.’

That was no difficult task. As always, Miss Langrishe was surrounded by her friends. Confined for the most part to a wheelchair and a martyr to her gout, she had refused to allow the complaint to affect her way of life. Now she held out both her hands to Amy and her companion.

‘Come, sit by me, and let us be comfortable,’ she said gaily. ‘Now, Amy, tell me, has Bath society changed since you were here two years ago?’

‘No, ma’am, it is just the same.’ Amy was never less than truthful.

‘And is that a compliment. Or a criticism?’

‘It could never be a criticism, Aunt. I love Bath and I have always done so. I wonder that the entire population of these islands does not come to live here.’

‘It would become a little crowded, my darling. James, you see we have a convert. Perhaps Amy will persuade you not to desert us again for wilder shores.’

James was about to reply when a strident voice rang out about the general hubbub. Mrs Skelmersdale was seated at a neighbouring table, and was haranguing the timid-looking girl who sat beside her.

‘Charlotte, must you slouch in that stupid way?’ she snapped. ‘Pray sit up straight! These die-away airs which you affect do nothing for your appearance. Are you not plain enough?’

It was a question which merited no reply, and the girl did not answer, but Mrs Skelmersdale was not done with her strictures. She turned to Mrs Melville.

‘Be thankful that you have no daughters, Clarissa. My own girl is naught but a trial to me. Here she sits mum-chance. As usual she makes not the slightest attempt to fix her interest with any gentleman in this room. What a future she has, to be sure! First to become an ape-leader and then to wither into spinsterhood!’

Mrs Melville looked uncomfortable. Several heads had turned in the direction of their table, and the unfortunate Charlotte had flushed to the roots of her hair. It was a very public humiliation and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

It was too much for Amy. She sprang to her feet and walked towards the girl. With the briefest of bows to the older woman, she greeted Charlotte with a friendly smile.

‘Miss Skelmersdale, I am so happy to see you here this evening,’ she announced. ‘I have been meaning to ask you for this age if you would care to accompany us on an expedition which we plan to make to Bristol in the coming week?’

It was hard to decide which of her listeners was the most astonished. Mrs Skelmersdale’s mouth fell open. To date the fiery Miss Wentworth had shown no desire to become better acquainted with her daughter.

She glanced at her daughter’s face and was tempted to veto the invitation out-of-hand. She had suspected for some time that Charlotte admired Miss Wentworth to a ridiculous degree. If they became close friends, who knew what notions the girl might get into her head. Now she was smiling up at the tall figure who stood before her.

Amy read the older woman’s mind. ‘My cousins have arranged this outing,’ she murmured in a casual tone. ‘They arrive in Bath tomorrow. I am in disgrace, I fear. They complain that we shall be sadly short of female company.’

Mrs Skelmersdale was thinking quickly. ‘Your cousins, Miss Wentworth? Well, I am not sure… I have not met them, but was not Mr Thomas Wentworth married recently?’

‘Yes, ma’am. He is my Uncle Sebastian’s eldest son. He and his bride are travelling abroad at this present time. Dear Louise is a close friend of my sister and myself. We miss her so, but now we are resolved to enjoy the company of Thomas’s brothers, Henry and Crispin. They are looking forward to their visit to us.’

This put a different complexion on matters. The arrival in Bath of two wealthy and well-connected young men was an opportunity not to be missed. Mrs Skelmersdale shot a sharp glance at her daughter.

‘Well, Charlotte, have you lost both your tongue and your manners?’ she demanded. ‘Pray thank Miss Wentworth and say how happy you will be to accept her invitation.’

‘You will allow it, Mamma?’

‘Great heavens, child! Why should I not allow it? Must you make me out to be an ogre? Miss Wentworth shall not think that of me, I hope?’

Amy bowed, but the expected denial did not come and Mrs Skelmersdale flushed. She felt uncomfortable under Amy’s steady gaze, but she would not let well alone.

‘Your own dear mamma would agree with me, I’m sure.’ She gave a high-pitched titter. ‘We mothers must always have the best interests of our children at heart. Is that not so?’

‘In the usual way of things I would agree with you, ma’am, but there are exceptions.’ The glint in Amy’s eye left her listener in no doubt at all of her meaning.

Mrs Skelmersdale was almost tempted into giving Amy a sharp set-down. She heard a choking sound, but then a mild voice intervened.

‘I’m happy to know that you have given your consent to your daughter joining us, ma’am. Our expedition is intended as an educational trip. I am persuaded that your husband would approve.’

Mrs Skelmersdale tossed her head. ‘No doubt he would. Sir James has the oddest notions, but I should not like to see our dear Charlotte turned into a blue-stocking.’

‘That will not happen, Mamma.’ Charlotte had found her voice at last. ‘I am not in the least way clever.’

‘I should hope not indeed! What can be less attractive to any sensible man than a clever woman?’

Her question remained unanswered, though James felt obliged to rest a cautionary hand upon Amy’s arm at that particular moment. She had been tempted to announce that perhaps stupidity might be considered less attractive by a sensible man, but the gentle pressure of his fingers caused her to hold her tongue.

‘Charlotte is not bookish,’ her mother continued. ‘She has never been one of these foolish creatures who are forever running in and out of the circulating libraries. Such places can be a bad influence on a young girl’s mind. They have no rules to speak of and even lend novels to the young, so I understand, when a book of sermons or an improving tract would be much more suitable.’

Her sniping was not lost on Amy. Only the previous day she had been enquiring about Miss Austen’s latest work when Charlotte and her mother had entered the library.

Amy doubted if Mrs Skelmersdale had been in search of improving works at Duffields in Milsom Street, or at Godwins, its famous rival. Both places shared a club-like atmosphere and their comfortable lounges were popular with members of polite society. Here one might meet one’s friends and leaf through the latest newspapers, reviews and magazines.

Amy was tempted into further mischief. ‘Ma’am, I must agree,’ she said in solemn tones. ‘Though I admit that the circulating libraries do not carry large stocks of such works. Did you find what you were looking for? Perhaps you will advise me as to which book of sermons is your favourite?’

Mrs Skelmersdale was routed. She had never picked up a book of sermons in her life. Amy had guessed as much, but she waited politely for an answer.

‘I have no time for reading,’ came the tart reply. ‘It is an occupation for idle hands and minds. The Sunday sermons at the Abbey should be enough for any Christian woman.’

‘So they should, ma’am, so they should. One cannot fail to be influenced by their insistence upon charity towards one’s neighbours…’

Amy might have said more but, warned by the ugly flush on the older woman’s face, James judged it politic to lead her away before the confrontation developed into open warfare.

‘Shall we see you at the Friday ball, ma’am?’ he enquired. ‘Perhaps we might finalise the arrangement for our expedition to Bristol… The young men should have preparations well in hand by then.’

It was a timely reminder, if such were needed, that at least two eligible bachelors would be included in the party.

Mrs Skelmersdale was in no mood to be mollified. Any encounter with Amy invariably brought her to the verge of apoplexy, but she was an ambitious woman and had never been one to cut off her nose to spite her face. She forced a smile and rose to her feet.

‘I must have a word with dear Beatrice,’ she announced. ‘I must be sure that this outing has her full approval.’ She swept towards the neighbouring table, with Charlotte and Mrs Melville in tow, and took a seat by Amy’s aunt.

Miss Beatrice Langrishe greeted her with her usual courtesy, though she had missed little of the exchange between the ladies. Now she raised an eyebrow and looked at James. It was a clear invitation to remove Amy from the scene of battle.

James tucked Amy’s arm through his and led her from the supper room. His shoulders were shaking.

‘I can’t think what you find so entertaining,’ she complained. ‘That archwife is the outside of enough…’

‘I thought you had no wish to have anything more to do with the lady or her family,’ he replied.

‘I couldn’t bear her cruelty,’ she told him simply. ‘Did you see Charlotte’s face? She was on the verge of tears. Could I have done nothing?’

‘No, you could not, my doughty warrior. That would have been beyond you, but now you are in difficulty, are you not?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I am referring to this non-existent expedition to Bristol. When do your cousins arrive in Bath? Will they agree, do you suppose?’

‘Oh, yes! The boys are so good-natured, and they’ll welcome the chance to visit Bristol…that is, unless you insist upon examining antiquities…’

James smiled down at her. ‘I won’t do that. We must not expose Miss Skelmersdale to the corrupting influence of cultural pursuits. I thought perhaps a visit to the port? The shipping is a fine sight, and there are a number of excellent hostelries where we may dine in comfort and at our leisure.’

‘How good you are!’ she cried impulsively. ‘You backed me up quite beautifully. I found myself believing that we had, in fact, arranged this outing.’

‘How could I do otherwise? But even so, you did not need my help. I was hard put to keep my countenance when you mentioned your Wentworth cousins. That clinched the matter as far as Mrs Skelmersdale was concerned, which was your intention, was it not?’

‘It was! She will be making plans already. Poor Charlotte will be subjected to so much advice as to how to make herself agreeable to the boys.’

‘She won’t need any such advice, I think. She seems to be a pleasant girl, if overly subdued. You realise that you have made a friend for life, I hope. It is clear that she admires you…’

Amy blushed and made an immediate disclaimer. ‘It won’t be upon her mamma’s recommendation,’ she laughed. ‘Perhaps she will have more to say when she is on her own. Her mother is a bully. Imagine announcing to the world that Charlotte is too plain!’

‘That was ill done of her. What is more, it is untrue!

Amy gave him a curious look. ‘Do you think her pretty, James?’

‘No, she isn’t pretty, but she looks distinguished, and the combination of blonde hair and brown eyes is quite out of the common way.’

‘I’m so glad you think so. If we could only persuade her to stand up for herself! Bullies collapse, you know, when met head-on!’

James shook his head. ‘Charlotte is not of your temperament, Amy, and you have had the benefit of a loving family to support you.’

‘James, I am always in hot water, as I’m sure you know! Mother is forever advising me to hold my tongue instead of speaking out.’

‘It doesn’t seem to have had much effect, my dear.’

‘I know, and sometimes I am sorry for it, but not today. I don’t regret one word.’

‘Well, there is no harm done,’ he comforted. ‘But do try to give some thought to Charlotte’s circumstances. You would not wish to make matters worse for her.’

‘What do you mean? How could I do that?’ She looked at him in surprise.

‘Perhaps by persuading her into open defiance? There are more subtle means of arriving at a happy conclusion.’

‘Only if she marries.’ Amy frowned. ‘And then she will need to find a man of iron who is capable of crushing her mamma.’

‘Unless you accomplish that happy objective first.’ He was teasing her again and she was forced to laugh.

James glanced at his watch. ‘We had best return to your aunt. These gatherings finish at eleven sharp, or so I understand, and it is almost time.’

‘You are right,’ Amy gave him a demure look. ‘No dissipation after eleven, James. You must wait for further excitement until the next ball.’

‘This one has been enough for me!’ He took her arm and led her back to the supper room.

As they approached Miss Langrishe and her party, Mrs Skelmersdale rose to take her leave. She vouchsafed Amy a word or two of gratitude for her invitation to Charlotte, but she was barely out of earshot before she made her true feelings known to her bosom-bow.

‘Well, Clarissa, was I not right about that pert young creature? Miss Amy Wentworth is much in need of a sharp set-down. She will not get it from her aunt, of course, nor from Sir James, I believe. She has been spoilt and over-indulged from childhood…’

Mrs Melville nodded in her usual vague way, but Charlotte was unwise enough to speak.

‘Yet I thought it kind in her to include me in her expedition, Mamma…’

‘You thought! When I wish for your opinion I will ask for it, my girl! Hold your tongue! Kind, you say? Let me inform you that these high-nosed aristocrats do nothing unless it is of benefit to themselves. Miss Wentworth will have some purpose of her own.’

She was right, but Amy’s true purpose had been to rescue Charlotte from her mother’s cruelty. Such a thought would not have entered that lady’s head. Her son was her favourite child, though in truth she was a little afraid of him. Her daughter she considered a milk-and-water Miss, not even an asset in the marriage market. Now she pushed the girl ahead of her towards the waiting carriage.

Beatrice Langrishe looked at the retreating figure and sighed.

‘What a trial that woman is, to be sure! One can only be sorry for that unfortunate girl. Amy, I was glad you spoke to her, especially as I know your feelings about her mother. You would not seek her company, I know.’

Amy subsided into a chair. ‘I wasn’t very tactful,’ she admitted. ‘But James came to the rescue and saved the day.’

Miss Langrishe twinkled at the tall young man. ‘Always the diplomat, just like your father, James?’

‘Amy had matters well in hand,’ he insisted. ‘But now she has committed herself to an entirely fictitious outing to Bristol in this coming week. Let us hope that her cousins will agree to it, or I shall be the sole escort for the two young ladies, and that, I feel, would not suit Mrs Skelmersdale.’

‘We could always invite the Comte de Vionnet,’ Amy said wickedly. ‘He claims to be a friend of yours. What do you say to that?’

She had expected him to laugh and tease her about her interest in the Comte, but his face was grave as he looked at her.

‘I do not regard the gentleman as a friend,’ he said quietly.

‘But—’

‘Amy, I am a little tired…’ Miss Langrishe murmured. She had been quick to sense that James had reservations about the Count, a gentleman unknown to her. ‘James, will you be good enough to order a