“You have been launched upon society with great success, Anastasia,” Cousin Althea said with a warm smile. “Now you may relax and enjoy the rest of the Season.”
Everyone was ecstatic over the number of bouquets that had been delivered yesterday and this morning. They were amazed and gratified to hear of the number of persons who had called yesterday afternoon and of the drive in the park with the Fleming brothers.
“I think, Anastasia,” the dowager countess said, smiling kindly at her granddaughter, “we may expect more than a few very eligible offers for your hand before the end of the Season.”
“But there was already one this morning, Cousin Eugenia,” Elizabeth said. “At least, it was not exactly an offer, was it, Anna, but a request to know to what gentleman he must apply for permission to make one. I directed him to you, Alex, though Anna is of age and does not need anyone’s permission. She was looking somewhat aghast, however, and I came to her rescue.”
“Thank you, Lizzie,” he said dryly. “Formsby, was it? He found me at Tattersall’s. I informed him, as I informed another gentleman last evening and two more this morning, that I would discuss the matter with Anastasia’s family and with her.”
“I had two gentlemen approach me at White’s this morning,” Uncle Thomas said, “as well as the uncle of another who is not a member. I told them the same thing.”
“Oh goodness gracious me.” Anna’s grandmother clasped her hands to her bosom and beamed. “This is even greater success than we anticipated. By the end of the Season, Anastasia—before the end—you will be able to make your choice from among a large number of suitors.”
“You must not rush into choosing, though, Anastasia,” Aunt Matilda advised. “The matter of birth and breeding and fortune must all be weighed as must your own importance. You are the daughter—the only child—of the late Earl of Riverdale, my brother, and you are in possession of a vast fortune. There are no limits to what you can aspire to in a husband.”
Anna had been virtually silent, but she spoke now. “I am one of my father’s four children,” she said.
“Of course you are,” Aunt Matilda said, “but you are the only one who counts in the eyes of the ton.”
“I am nothing but an object,” Anna said, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, “as are my brother and sisters. They have become objects of no value whatsoever while I have become invaluable. Men—gentlemen of the ton—crowded about me at the ball two evenings ago and sent floral offerings yesterday morning and flocked to visit me yesterday afternoon. I was flooded with invitations to drive in the park, to dance the first set at some ball a few evenings hence, to attend the theater, to go to Vauxhall. Today several of them are making inquiries about marrying me. I daresay there will be more to come. And why? Because I am beautiful and accomplished? Because I am personable and charming and intelligent? Because I have character? Of course not. It is because I am a commodity, because I am rich. Very rich. One of the wealthiest single ladies in England, perhaps. Everyone wants to marry my money.”
“Anna!” Aunt Louise looked at her incredulously. “The situation is not nearly so . . . vulgar. Of course members of our class choose eligible partners when they marry. Of course we marry within our own ranks. And of course it is desirable, though not always essential, to marry into money. Money is what sustains our way of life and the vast expense of running our estates and other establishments. But we do not consider just rank or fortune when we choose husbands and wives. We look too for someone we can respect, someone of whom we can grow fond, even someone we may love. I cannot say I loved Netherby when I married him, though I did like and respect him. And I grew fond of him, as he did of me, I believe, during our marriage. I mourned his passing with a very real grief. Yet I would not have married him if he had been either ineligible or impoverished. The absence of those things would not have been conducive to a happy life.”
“No one looks at you and sees an object, Anastasia,” Cousin Althea added. “Far from it. Everyone sees a dignified and personable young lady, you may be sure. Remember that you will have choices—a rather dizzying number of them, it would seem. You will be free to choose someone who will appreciate you as well as your fortune. You may choose someone you can appreciate for his good character and kindly nature and any other positive attributes that are important to you. The marriage mart is not quite the impersonal thing you fear.”
“What you ought to do, Anastasia,” her grandmother said, “is marry Alexander. And what you ought to do, Alexander, is swallow your pride and propose to her without waiting for everyone else to do so first.”
Sixteen
There was a moment of silence. Anna was horrified and horribly mortified. Alexander, she saw in one brief glance, looked frozen in place.
“Cousin Eugenia,” his mother said reproachfully, “it is hardly—”
“No, Mama,” Alexander said, holding up one hand. “It is not that I have not thought of it for myself. I need the money, heaven knows, if I am ever to rescue Brambledean Court from further dilapidation and improve the deplorable living conditions of all those dependent upon me there. And it might be said that the entailed properties and the fortune ought to be reunited, as they were until Cousin Humphrey died. I have a regard for Anastasia and admire the way she grew up with dignity despite the circumstances in which her father left her. I admire too the way she has worked hard to adjust to her changed circumstances. If I were to marry her, I could save her from any further exposure to the marriage mart, which she is finding so repugnant. And I could certainly offer her respect, protection, affection, and a mother-in-law and sister-in-law who I know would welcome her.”