Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride

Burrows Annie

Deborah was swamped by a wave of guilt. No wonder the men all preferred Susannah to her. Not only was she far prettier, but she was a much nicer person too.

Captain Fawley certainly thought so. His eyes were glowing with admiration as he organised a footman to bring their carriage round. He was falling deeper and deeper under Susannah’s spell with every encounter. Just as she, Deborah realised, stifling a sob, was growing more hopelessly infatuated with him. She had experienced an almost overwhelming urge to cling to him when he finally handed her over to her mother. To fling her arms around him and beg him to forget Susannah. In a ballroom!

She allowed Susannah and her mother to hustle her to the ladies’ retiring room while they waited for their carriage and she grappled with the revelation that she had carelessly lost her heart to a man who scarcely noticed she existed.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said when they got into the carriage. ‘I have ruined your evening, Suzy, and it is not as though I feel that unwell.’

Susannah grasped her hand. ‘I shall not mind having an early night myself, truly, I promise you. Just lately, things seem to have become a bit of a whirl. It was easier, in some ways, when we first came to London, and hardly knew anybody.’

That was before Susannah had become such a hit. Her success had astounded Mrs Gillies, who had warned her not to expect too much from society. For though Susannah was so pretty, and so charming, and had so much wealth, that wealth came from trade.

‘I can introduce you to a certain level of society,’ she had explained. It was the reason that Deborah’s mother was acting as chaperon, after all. Her own lineage was impeccable. Her only problem was lack of money. Since Susannah’s family had plenty, they had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Mrs Gillies would introduce Susannah alongside her own daughter, and Susannah’s parents would foot the bill for both girls. ‘But there is no guarantee you will be accepted.’

Indeed, for the first few weeks of the Season, they had stayed in more often than they had gone out. Now, they had so many invitations, they had either to reject some, or attend several functions each evening.

And naturally, since Susannah’s parents were meeting their costs, Mrs Gillies felt obligated to ensure that she had the opportunity to mingle with the sort of men she considered marriage-worthy.

They were not at all what Deborah wanted. She had hoped that she might meet a young man who did not mind that she was not very wealthy. He would be looking for a helpmeet. A girl who would not demand he keep her in splendid indolence, but be prepared to run his household on a tight budget, and raise his children with a cheerful demeanour. There must be many younger sons of good families who wanted a dependable, resourceful wife. When they had first come to London, she had held out hopes of meeting such a man. But not now they were beginning to mingle in somewhat higher social circles, to satisfy Susannah’s ambitions.

Deborah sighed heavily more than once as the carriage took them the few streets to their rented house. In the small market town where she had grown up, she would have scorned to ride such a short distance, when she was perfectly capable of walking. But in London, she was subject to all manner of ridiculous restrictions. A footman grasped her arm as she stumbled in the act of clambering out of the coach. Hired for the Season, naturally, just like the town house they had rented in Half Moon Street. She missed being able to hold a conversation without wondering if the servants, who were strangers she could not trust, were listening. She missed being able to go for a walk without one of them trailing behind, for the sake of propriety. And really, how silly was it to stipulate that a footman was necessary to knock on the door of whatever house they were paying a call at? As though a young lady’s knuckles were far too delicate for the task?

She barely restrained herself from shaking him off, but when, upon climbing the steps to their front door, she experienced a moment of dizziness, she was glad she had not. A little later, she blinked, to find herself sitting in the armchair in her pretty bedroom, a maid kneeling at her feet removing her slippers, and Susannah hovering over her, fanning her face. Her mother was behind her chair, hastily loosening her stays.

‘Did I faint?’ she asked, feeling thoroughly confused.

‘Not quite,’ her mother replied, ‘but your face was as white as paper. You must get straight into bed. Jones,’ she addressed the maid, ‘go to the kitchens and fetch Deborah a drink.’ When the woman looked a little put out, she continued ruthlessly, ‘Miss Hullworthy and I are quite capable of getting my daughter undressed and into bed. What she needs from you is a drink of hot chocolate, and some bread and butter. You have lost weight this last couple of weeks,’ she said, clucking her tongue at the sight of Deborah’s bony shoulder blades as she removed the stays and gown. ‘You have been racketing about, growing more and more tired, and only picking at your food….’

‘I am so sorry,’ Susannah put in at this point. ‘I should have noticed. Please say you forgive me for being so selfish. I have been so full of myself. My success has quite gone to my head….’

‘I think,’ said Mrs Gillies, raising her daughter to her feet, and supporting her towards the bed, ‘that it will do both you girls good to spend a few days at home quietly. We may put it about that it is on account of Deborah’s indisposition, but really, Susannah, I have been growing quite concerned about you too.’

‘Me?’ Susannah plumped down on to a bedside chair as Mrs Gillies rolled up Deborah’s nightdress and pushed it over her head, just as she had done when Deborah had been a little girl, back home in the vicarage. It was almost worth being a little unwell, Deborah decided, to be rid of that maid, and have her mother and Susannah to put her to bed as though she was herself, and not this prim d'ebutante she had to pretend to be in order to trick some poor man into matrimony.

‘Yes, you. You know, Susannah, that I would never countenance any of those fellows making up to my Deborah.’

At this statement, both girls blinked at Mrs Gillies in surprise.

‘You may think you are doing well to attract the attention of several men with titles, but I have made it my business to find out about them, and the sad truth is that they are fortune hunters.’

‘Well…’ Susannah pouted ‘…I have a fortune. And I want to marry someone with a title.’

‘Yes, but I think you could show a little more discernment. Over the next day or so, I think it would be wise to consider the gentlemen who have been paying you attention, very carefully. Baron Dunning, for example, is only obeying his mama in paying you court. She wants him to marry, so that she will not have to make the drastic economies that his late father’s reckless gambling have necessitated. He will not be any kind of a husband to you once he has got you to the altar. Why, he is hardly more than a schoolboy!’

‘Don’t you think he likes me?’ said Susannah in a very small voice.

‘Oh, I think he likes you well enough. If he has to marry a fortune, of course he would rather it came so prettily gift-wrapped. But don’t you think,’ she said in a more gentle tone, ‘you deserve better than that?’

Susannah bowed her head, her fingers running along the struts of her fan.

‘And as for the Earl of Caxton…’

But Deborah was never to find out what her mother thought of the Earl of Caxton. The maid had returned, bearing a tray laden with a pot of chocolate, a plate of bread and butter, and a small glass of what smelled like some form of spirituous liquor.