16
The next morning, Diana called on Lady Gordon to tell her about Regina’s engagement and ask if she would consent to co-host another ball at her home. “I would like this one to be in honor of Regina and Lord Jerome’s engagement, if you are agreeable.”
“Why, that is a splendid idea!” Lady Gordon said. “What a perfect way to re-establish Lady Regina’s position in society!”
“Then you think people will come?” Diana asked.
“Certainly they will come. They will beg us for an invitation,” Lady Gordon said, and it was the first time Diana had seen her look like the haughty aristocrat she undoubtedly was. However, that impression was dispelled an instant later when Monsieur de la Tour was announced, and Lady Gordon blushed a fiery red.
The three greeted one another, Diana expressing her delight in seeing Monsieur again, as this was the first opportunity she’d had to do so since the Vauxhall excursion.
“Monsieur de la Tour is escorting me to Richmond,” Lady Gordon said, “but we will be back this evening, and if you will call on me again tomorrow, Diana, we can begin planning the ball.”
Diana wished them both a good day and returned to Regina’s townhouse, where she told Regina what she and Lady Gordon were planning. “So now, in addition to a wedding dress, you should also think about what dress you will wear to your ball,” Diana said. “We will hold it on the evening before your wedding, if that is agreeable to you and Lord Jerome.”
“Oh, Diana, how exciting!” Regina said. “And how kind of you and Lady Gordon!”
“Not at all,” Diana said, with a dismissive gesture. “It is the least I could do to repay you for your kindness to me. Although there is really no way I could ever do so.”
The friends smiled at each other and then Regina said, “I know that it was wrong of Mr. Dean to publish that directory, but I cannot help but be glad that he did. Imagine if he hadn’t, none of this would have happened. You and I would have never met; we would not have come to know Lady Gordon and the other Ladies of the Registry; Jerome and I wouldn’t be getting married—”
“And I would not have reconciled with my sister-in-law,” Diana added.
“So, since Mr. Dean is not the villain you originally thought him, has he redeemed himself enough in your eyes for you to consider marrying him?”
“Mr. Dean hasn’t asked me to marry him,” Diana said, and though she attempted to sound as if it made no difference to her that he hadn’t, she knew that her tone betrayed her.
“Oh, come now, Diana, it’s perfectly obvious that he adores you. He probably feels that he cannot propose since he’s infamous for being the creator of that document. How is he to prove to you that he isn’t pursuing you for your fortune? Though, to be perfectly candid, a few of the other ladies would be happy to have him for a husband, and even attempted to divert his attention from you, with no success.”
“That is rather traitorous of them,” Diana said, with a frown.
“Not necessarily. You’ve made no secret of the fact that you didn’t want him. And you’ve also made it clear that you weren’t interested in marrying again. They may have felt they’d be doing you a favor.”
Diana knew better than to believe that. Any lady who attempted to steal Maxwell’s affections from her wasn’t doing so as an unselfish act of benevolence. However, Regina was correct in saying that she had made it obvious she had no interest in marriage. She’d even told Maxwell so! How did she now go about signifying that she had changed her mind?
Because she had changed her mind, most definitely. The thought of parting from Maxwell, even temporarily, was unbearable. And the thought of him marrying someone else, which he surely would eventually do if Diana did not marry him, was even more distressing to contemplate.
Her first marriage she now discounted completely. It should never have happened, and she would not use it as a gauge of her future happiness with someone else. She had often wondered why Mr. Boyle had married her; he was not the type to make a chivalrous or generous gesture, and she knew he had not been in love with her any more than she had been with him. But now that Mildred had told her story, Diana realized that spite might have led him to marry her; he was a very spiteful, petty man. It was a large part of the reason she’d been so unhappy in her marriage. As unattractive and unlikable as she’d found him, she had tried her best to do as her mother instructed and show him respect, but she’d found it impossible to feel any respect for him. However now, looking back, she was pleased that, as young as she was, she’d at least attempted to hide her disdain and dislike from him; it had been a constant struggle to swallow contemptuous words and reply to him and Mildred in a dignified manner. She knew she probably hadn’t always been successful, and to some extent he must have guessed her true feelings, but Diana’s conscience was clear. She would no longer hold herself to blame for the failure of that disastrous union and her feelings of relief at its ending, even if that ending had been caused by Mr. Boyle’s death.
She still believed that to marry for money was the worst mistake a person could make and was resolved never to be a participant in that sort of marriage again. But, like Regina, she did not think Mr. Dean solely interested in her fortune; she had come to believe he was in love with her. There were dozens of other ladies listed in his directory who had no objection to marriage, yet he had not pursued any of them. If his intention was merely to marry a woman for her fortune, he’d certainly had many other opportunities to do so. But he had put himself at Diana’s service. He had rid her of Lucius Boyle’s attentions, as he’d promised he would, and had proclaimed himself her “obedient servant” purely for the honor of serving her, with no prospect of a reward.
She did not think it necessary to test his love for her; she believed it was sincere. But she knew the decision she’d come to in regard to Mildred’s situation would test Maxwell’s true feelings for her, whether she’d planned to do so or not. And when he passed this unlooked-for test, she’d have confirmation that her confidence in him was not misplaced.
Maxwell arrived the following afternoon to take Diana driving in the park. He’d once again hired a vehicle as Diana still had not purchased a sporting carriage, and she knew now that she never would. There was no reason for her to do so if she was leaving London and Regina was getting married. But perhaps she could purchase a gig to use when she was back in Twickenham, now that Maxwell had taught her how to drive.
They went to Green Park, as Maxwell explained that it wasn’t as popular as Hyde Park and he thought they would be able to speak there without interruption. Upon arriving he handed the reins over to the boy who had been perched up behind them. Diana didn’t recognize him as the porter who had announced her arrival to Maxwell the first time they’d met, but she did notice that he had looked her over with more than a cursory interest.
“That’s Jim,” Maxwell told her as they walked away. “After you visited me in my rooms, he came to the unfounded conclusion that I am a veritable Don Juan and has been attempting to discover the secret of my success ever since.”
Diana was reminded of what Regina had told her about other ladies pursuing Maxwell. “It can’t have been merely my visit that led him to that conclusion,” Diana said, a little suspiciously.
“Well, no,” Maxwell said, and Diana could have sworn he reddened somewhat. “There were other lady visitors. But they did not come at my invitation, I assure you. In fact, I did my utmost to get rid of my last visitor before I inadvertently compromised her. I think she would have been happy at such an eventuality, though I’m as puzzled as Jim as to the reason.”
Diana was not at all puzzled; she knew exactly why the hussy had wanted Maxwell to compromise her. Diana would love to be compromised by him herself, but didn’t know how to accomplish it. But that wasn’t really true; she wanted Max to propose because he wanted to, not because he was forced to do so.
However, before they were able to talk about their relationship, she needed to first tell him that Mildred was Lucius’s mother, and also explain the rest of her tragic history, which she proceeded to do.
“How very sad. Poor Mildred,” Maxwell said at the end of it, and Diana felt such relief at his response that her knees grew weak. The man she loved was no misogynist like her first husband. “Percival Boyle’s treatment of his sister seems to be very typical of him,” Maxwell continued. “Godfrey told me Boyle did not leave him adequate compensation, either, even though he’s been at Whitley House for more than thirty years.”
Diana, who had resolved to do something for Mildred and Lucius, added Godfrey to her mental list of those who deserved recompense.
“I am sorry you were married to such a man. I already knew he didn’t deserve you, but I had no idea how very unworthy he was,” Maxwell said solemnly.
“It was never a true marriage,” Diana said. “He married me to spite his sister, and I married him for a roof over my head. That’s why I’ve decided”—she stopped walking so that she could look Maxwell in the face as she said the next words—“to give Whitley House to Mildred.”
He had halted as well and was looking down at her, and his expression seemed to be one of surprise and concern, if she interpreted it correctly. “But you love that house,” he said.
Diana shrugged. “I liked making it more beautiful than it was already. But it’s just a house. And Mildred was born there; it’s her legacy, not mine. It never should have been mine. I also intend to split my inheritance with her. Percival never gave her her dowry, you know. It was supposed to have been ten thousand pounds, and that was over thirty years ago.”
He studied her face for a few moments in silence. Then he smiled. “Just when I thought it was impossible for me to . . . admire you more,” he said, and Diana wondered if his slight hesitation was because he had wanted to say “love” or if that was just wishful thinking on her part.
“Do not admire me too much,” Diana said. “I am keeping River House.”
“That is the perfect solution,” Maxwell said, looking greatly relieved. “Because you do deserve something after having had to live with that blighter. I’m very glad that you will have suitable accommodations to remove to. A less generous person would have given River House to Mildred and kept Whitley House for themselves. That was my initial suggestion, you remember.”
“Mildred dislikes the sound of the river,” Diana said, with a smile and shake of her head at Mildred’s quirks. “And this seems to me to be a more equitable solution. Not to mention that I’m happy to have a fresh start in a home that has no unpleasant memories attached to it.”
They walked a few more minutes in silence, before Diana said, “I will miss all of my friends here in town, however. I know that it will be far less convenient, but I hope that you will continue to call on me at River House after Regina and Lord Jerome are married.” She felt foolish asking a man to call on her, and hoped he wouldn’t think her as forward as those other ladies who had thrown themselves at him, but since he’d barely blinked at the news that she was giving away a mansion and half of her fortune, she thought it was now very plain that he had not been coveting her possessions. He had passed a test without even being aware that he was being tested, and she hoped he could now admit that he loved her.
“As to that, I also have some news to share with you,” Maxwell said. “I will no longer be living in London, either. I accepted a post yesterday with the East India Company and am going to Calcutta. I sail the week after Regina and Jerome’s wedding.”
Diana, who had envisioned a future where Maxwell married her and they lived happily ever after at River House, couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying. “But . . . why?” were the only two words she could manage to utter.
“Because of you,” Maxwell said. “Our so-called noble society has a very odd view of such matters, and you made me realize that I’d subscribed to that view. They consider any type of trade or labor beneath them, and not the province of a gentleman, but they think it perfectly acceptable to marry a wealthy woman to acquire a fortune. You’ve helped me to appreciate that the opposite is true: marrying for material advantage is not the act of a true gentleman, whereas engaging in an honest profession is, in actuality, the noble course. And I do have an aptitude for documentation and figures, as my directory has proved. I thought I’d put that skill to work in the offices of the East India Company.”
Diana could not believe that she was the author of her own unhappiness and wondered if it was too late to persuade Maxwell that he did not need to travel to the other side of the world in response to some unthinking words of hers early in their acquaintance. But he had not finished. “I do not expect you to wait for me, and I do not flatter myself that you have any reason to do so. But when I return to England, if you have not married, I would dearly love to call upon you as you’ve so kindly invited me to. I know that you have decided not to marry again, but I think as time passes and the memories of your first unhappy marriage recede, that perhaps you’ll reconsider your decision. I wish I could be here when you do, but I anticipate being away for two or three years at least, and I imagine by the time I return, you’ll have already started a new family.” He looked extremely sad as he said this, heartbroken in fact, as if he was already envisioning her marriage to another man and picturing her future children, whom some other man would father.
Before Diana could gather her tumultuous thoughts, they were interrupted by one of the herds of cows that frequented the park, which passed by with their attendant milkmaids. While it was no doubt a charming, bucolic scene, the droppings (and resulting odor) the cows left in their wake caused Diana to carefully heed Maxwell’s warnings to “watch your step.” They hurriedly returned to the curricle by unspoken mutual consent, Diana waving a handkerchief in front of her nose. It was an unfortunate and quite unromantic ending to their excursion, and Maxwell was aware that Jim was looking profoundly disappointed at this misstep on his idol’s part.
“Might want to take ’er somewhere nice now, guv,” Jim said in a lowered aside to Maxwell that was nonetheless perfectly audible to Diana. “This place smells worse than a fat old man’s cheeser.”
Diana, who was thankfully already holding her handkerchief, was able to hide her reaction to Jim’s comment behind it, and Maxwell was left to hope that Diana didn’t know that “cheeser” was a slang word for flatulence, although he realized she could probably guess what Jim meant based on the context. And the smell.
“Would you like to go to Gunter’s?” Max asked Diana once he had driven away from Green Park and Diana had finally removed the handkerchief from in front of her face. However, he wasn’t really in the mood to extend their time together. The thought of their upcoming separation was very painful to him, the most painful separation he’d ever been faced with, even worse than having been sent away to school at the tender age of twelve.
“I think I’d do better to return home; that is, to Regina’s,” Diana said, and if she’d been amused by Jim’s comment she was no longer. She looked as dejected as Maxwell felt. “By the way, please leave the evening before the wedding free. Lady Gordon and I are having a ball for Regina and Lord Jerome. That is why I must go; I have to write the invitation cards. You should have yours by the end of the week.”
Maxwell agreed to reserve that evening and didn’t know if the prospect of dancing with Diana once more before he left her, no doubt forever, was inducive of pleasure or pain, and finally decided it caused both.
As depressed as she was after her drive with Maxwell, Diana told herself that she had no time to mope. She had to contact her man of affairs and get him to draw up some kind of document, transferring Whitley House and fifteen thousand pounds to Mildred, while retaining River House and a suitable amount of land for her own use; and she had to begin planning the ball she was to give for Regina. Only after that could she dwell on her bleak future living alone in Twickenham, removed from all society and companionship. She supposed she would have Mildred and Lucius nearby and would occasionally see them but, though Diana could find it in her heart to pity Mildred, that did not mean she would ever prove to be a sympathetic or congenial companion. In fact, Diana was fairly sure Mildred would soon revert back to her stern, crotchety ways, once the shock of recent events had worn off.
While Diana kept her promise and did not tell Regina that Lucius was Mildred’s natural son, she did tell her that Percival had cheated Mildred out of her dowry and so she had resolved to give Whitley House to Mildred, along with half of her fortune, and remove to River House.
“That is quite charitable of you, Diana,” Regina said, once she’d gotten over her initial surprise. “I don’t know if I would have given Mildred so much, as disagreeable as she is, but I can understand why you would prefer to leave Whitley House. How many acres did you say you have?”
“I believe it’s around eighty,” Diana said.
“Before you give it all away, may I speak to Jerome about where he’d like to live after our marriage? Perhaps we can buy some acreage from you and build a house of our own, on the other side of River House. The part furthest away from Mildred,” Regina said, with a grin.
“Oh, Regina, that would be wonderful!” Diana exclaimed happily. It was the first time she’d felt like smiling since her conversation with Maxwell.
“Don’t get too excited; I have no idea what Jerome’s future plans might be. It could be that he wants to live in Lincolnshire, near our family. Though I’d be very surprised if he did,” Regina said, grimacing.
Jerome came to dine with Regina and Diana that evening, and Diana left them together in the drawing room afterward for their discussion. Jerome told Regina since it was her money, it was likewise her decision. “I have no objection to Twickenham, however. I enjoyed our visit there very much, and will always have fond memories of the Sweet Walk,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. Since he had taken advantage of their time alone together there to bestow upon her many of the kisses he’d withheld during their earlier engagement, Regina likewise had fond memories of the place. Those remembrances soon led them into another embrace, and it was some time later before Regina could bring Jerome back to a discussion of the subject at hand.
“Seriously, Jerome,” she said, removing herself from his arms and seating herself a prudent distance away, “where would you like to live after our marriage? We could continue to rent this townhouse for the season and live the greater part of the year in Lincolnshire, if you’d prefer not to live in London year-round.”
“I don’t think I’d like to live in London year-round, but neither do I want to remove to Lincolnshire. Twickenham seems very tranquil, while still convenient to town,” he said. “And I think you’d enjoy living near Diana, my love. And she’d enjoy your companionship as well.”
“So you would be agreeable to purchasing a parcel of land from her, and building a home there?”
“It sounds idyllic; if that is what you want as well,” Jerome said.
“I think I do,” said Regina slowly. “But Jerome, you would have to supervise the building of it.”
“Certainly, my dear. You can leave that to me, though I hope you will not be shy about giving me your input.”
Not only was Regina not shy about giving her input, she immediately took out paper and pencil and she and Jerome sketched out the foundation of their future house, which the architect they later hired used as the basis for his own drawings.
Diana was thrilled to learn the next morning that Regina and Jerome were to be her neighbors. Since she had done nothing yet about transferring the title of Whitley House, Diana made the decision to sell Jerome and Regina twenty-five acres (at a very good bargain), keep twenty-five acres that adjoined their lot for herself, and give Mildred the remaining thirty, which contained Whitley House and its farm.
She met with her man of affairs the next day and he approved her plans, but suggested she speak to Mildred and Lucius before he drew up the official documents. Before she could drive down to see them, however, they surprised her by calling upon her in London.
Mildred still seemed embarrassed and awkward; she wouldn’t meet Diana’s eyes and was uncharacteristically quiet, and Regina soon made an excuse to leave the three of them alone together. Once she did, Diana was surprised when Lucius began to apologize. Without his fake smiles and insincere compliments, he seemed like a genuinely nice man. “I am very sorry, Mrs. Boyle,” he told her. “Not only did I lie to you, but I know it was wrong for me, a man of irregular birth, to pursue a genteel lady like yourself,” he said, and Mildred looked more embarrassed than ever.
“Stop; please, don’t,” Diana said. “Mildred explained everything, and I forgive you, Cousin Lucius. I can completely understand your mother’s desire to secure your future. Please, do not denigrate yourself. You either, Mildred. While what you two schemed to do was wrong, I can understand what prompted you to do it. In fact, I’d like to make some kind of recompense for what Percival did to you.”
At this Mildred finally looked up at Diana. “Will you . . . do you think . . . could Lucius perhaps stay with us at Whitley House?” she asked hopefully.
“I would like to do better than that, Mildred. I would like to make over Whitley House to you and remove to River House. Whitley House will be yours, and if you’d like your son to live there with you, that will be your decision, and yours alone. I will give you the thirty acres that surround Whitley House, but I will keep twenty-five acres for myself, and I have sold twenty-five acres to Lady Regina. However, I am restoring your dowry to you as well, with interest.”
Mildred looked to be in shock. “You— I don’t understand, you are giving away a large portion of your fortune to me?” she asked.
“I am restoring your fortune to you. You will be able to provide for yourself, and for Lucius, as you always wanted to,” Diana said, smiling at the older woman.
Mildred began to cry, and Lucius went over to her and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Thank you, Mrs. Boyle,” he said.
“Please, call me Cousin Diana,” she replied.