for all the misfortunes that have befallen me. I shall neither forget nor forgive what he did to Father. Would you not feel as I do?’
‘That is in the past and you would do well to put it behind you since nothing can be done about it now.’ She gave her niece a watery smile. ‘If you think of your scriptures, Beatrice, you will remember being taught that Jesus told us to love our enemies?’
‘Jesus hadn’t met Lord Chadwick,’ Beatrice retorted bitterly. She glanced at Astrid’s crestfallen face and dared to ask, ‘And is this what Astrid wants—marriage to a total stranger?’
‘He will not be a stranger to her by the time they are married. The marriage of my only daughter is of great importance.’ Her aunt’s face was stern, her eyes as hard as steel. ‘This is family business, not sentiment.’
‘But—Lord Chadwick has not offered for me and he might not,’ Astrid said quietly, hesitantly—the old habit of obedience and deference to her mother had a strong hold on her. ‘He has shown kindness towards me and nothing more. I—think you read too much into it, Mama.’
‘Nonsense.’ Lady Standish waved the objection aside. ‘It’s early days, I agree, but he did pay you a good deal of attention. It shows real promise. He saw what a gem you are. The party must be a success. It is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Lord Chadwick that you are, at county level, well qualified to be his bride. We must ensure that you spend as much time in each other’s company as possible at the party.’
‘But—Mama, he may not want to.’
Her mother shot her a dark look. ‘Don’t argue, Astrid. I do know what I am talking about. Marriage is not something you can settle for yourself. You are young, you can’t decide these things. You have to be guided. In the end it will be down to me. I will decide where you wed.’
‘But Lord Chadwick is hardly a suitable candidate,’ Beatrice dared to voice. In this instant she refused to sit with her head bowed as Astrid always did. She sat with her head high, one dark eyebrow slightly raised, and she met her aunt’s level gaze as if she were her equal. ‘Do you forget what that man did to my father—and that my mother was so ill and distressed by the whole sorry affair that she died of a broken heart? The man should have been horse-whipped for taking advantage of a man in a weakened state.’
Lady Standish looked at her coldly. ‘How dare you speak to me in that tone, Beatrice. Know your place. But since you are so eager to have your say, I will tell you that I do not forget and I do not like it that you feel you must remind me. But I do not hold it against Lord Chadwick. Your father—my own dear husband’s brother-in-law—was lamentably weak. His weakened state, as you put it, was brought about by an over-indulgence in alcoholic spirits. It was his fault that he lost Larkhill and shot himself. It cannot be blamed on anyone else.’
Her aunt’s cruel words cut Beatrice to the heart. ‘I blame Lord Chadwick absolutely,’ she persisted firmly. ‘I always will. Anyway, what is he like, this noble lord? Does he have any afflictions?’
‘Not unless one considers shocking arrogance an affliction,’ Lady Standish answered sharply. ‘Of course he has every right to be so, with friends constantly following in his wake. Why, if it were up to females to do the asking, Lord Chadwick would have had more offers of marriage than all the ladies in London combined.’
‘I can’t see why,’ Beatrice remarked in a low, cold voice. ‘He is absolutely loathsome to me.’
‘Oh, no, Beatrice,’ Astrid said breathlessly, rising quickly to his defence. ‘You do not know him. He is handsome and charming; I know you will think so too when you meet him.’
Only the prospect of another dressing down from her aunt prevented Beatrice from saying that she had already encountered the odious Lord Chadwick at Larkhill and was not hankering after an introduction.
From the open window of her bedroom, with her shoulder propped against the frame and her arms folded across her chest, Beatrice gazed dispassionately as the titled, wealthy and influential guests gathered on the extensive lawns of Standish House to celebrate Astrid’s nineteenth birthday, which was to go on into the night. The terraces all around were ablaze with blossoms, magnolias and sweet-scented azaleas.