“More the opposite,” Bethany said, thinking of how her elder sister loved to set herself a challenge, whether it was painting theatrical scenery (unheard of amongst gentlewomen), or winning archery matches. “I just want you to marry well, come to London, and have some children,” she said. Her hand fluttered to her stomach.
Emma’s eyes narrowed. Was her little sister looking rather plumper than usual? Bethany plump, even though she would never even touch a dessert because plumpness was not in fashion?
“Bethany!” she cried, jumping up. “Darling, are you carrying a child?”
Her little sister blushed. “Well, perhaps…”
But even as a five-year-old in the nursery, Bethany had always displayed an alarming tenacity. It was only a moment or two later that she observed that the future arrival of her child was precisely the reason that her sister must marry immediately.
“I need you in London,” she said.
Emma looked at her narrowly. There was a hint of fear in her sister’s voice. “All right,” she said briskly. “I shall come to London and pick out a husband for myself. I doubt it will take a great deal of time. It’s a pity, because Kerr rather suited me. He left me alone, he’s handsome enough, and I like what I read of his speeches in Parliament. He seems intelligent.”
“You couldn’t,” Bethany said with a shudder. “After he said such an appalling thing about you!”
“You mean that I’m too old to bear a child?” Emma inquired.
“That wasn’t it. It was worse! I couldn’t even tell you.”
Emma fixed her with an elder sister’s glare. “Tell me.”
“He said that he wouldn’t take you as wife until you had his baby in your belly and his ring on your finger.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” Bethany added morosely. “One is not supposed to discuss babies or bellies with unmarried ladies.”
“Don’t be a ninny,” her sister said absently. “Mrs. Morrison in the village had her baby last week, by the way.”
“Oh, were you there? Is it a lovely babe?”
“Justtel“ like his father, if without the beard, but rather adorable nonetheless. Of course I was there. Dr. Placket arrived a half hour late, as usual, and stinking of gin. Do you really mean that Kerr said precisely that sentence, Bethany?”
“Or thereabouts.”
Emma laughed. “I said he was intelligent, didn’t I? Well-read it seems, as well.”
“Who cares for his brains? He’s intolerably rude to speak of you in such a fashion.”
“The man was quoting Shakespeare,” Emma said. “I can’t remember the exact quotation, but the line is from All’s Well That Ends Well. A perfectly loathsome specimen of manhood, the Comte de Rousillon, announces that he won’t accept his wife until she has the ring from his finger and his child to boot.”
“I never liked Shakespeare. The plays are so long and invariably lurid.”
“Don’t be such a philistine, darling,” Emma said with amusement.
“Why do you have that look about you?” Bethany demanded.
“I’m thinking…. Don’t you suppose that Kerr’s parents sent Father a ring at some point in the betrothal negotiations?”
“Negotiations?” Bethany repeated. “You mean, back when you were five years old?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, I can tell you that John’s family never sent me a ring. The only ring I received was the one he gave me when we married.”
“It seems to me that there was talk of a ring,” Emma said, puzzling over it. “I shall have to root Father out of his study and ask him.”
“Why does it matter?” Bethany asked. “You may have the ring, but you still don’t have the baby. And you can’t—” She caught sight of her sister’s face. “Oh, Emma, you can’t!”
“He’s challenged me,” Emma said with a grin, a diabolical, mischievous, laughing grin. “He’s thrown down the gauntlet, Bethany. You heard it yourself!”
“No, he didn’t mean that!”
“You said that I need to marry quickly.”
“But not—”
“And you said that I should have gone to London and forced him to marry me.”
“Yes but, Emma, I didn’t—”
“But darling, I’m just going to obey your express desires. I shall go up to London and force the man to marry me. I’ll go on my own terms—or
rather, on his. Where is my Shakespeare?”
Chapter Four