What Say You to My Suit?

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."

January 28th

Anne drummed her fingers against her thigh. It had been snowing in Verona for nearly two days, trapping everyone inside her uncle's house. She wasn't a lover of the outdoors by any means, and she couldn't find any fault with the house itself. It was much finer to Anne's eye than her cousin's house, where they had stayed from summer until Christmas. If she had to admit to it, the real trouble was being trapped in the house with her mother. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not in the habit of brooking disappointment, and their journey to the capital was in danger of being an immense one. The original plan had been to return home after her cousin's wedding, which was now only a week away. Time was running out. Being snowbound at Fitzwilliam House would be a dream to her back in lonely, dreary Varainsee. 

There was really only one thing to do. She needed a husband to anchor her here. Anne didn't think she should have to do it, but it was the only plan she had. Either she lowered herself or she went home with her mother. 

"Oh. I'm sorry. I... I didn't think anyone would be in here."

There rarely was, Anne had noticed. Uncle Andrew preferred his study, Uncle Samuel never read anything when he was at the house, and Aunt Maria had been glancing at the same page of The Knight of the Cart over her growing stomach for days. Anne herself only sat in the library because her mother never did. "Oh."

"I'm just here to get the next- next volume of my book."

Anne idly wondered what Fabian was reading that was so fascinating. She found books quite dull. Since the Nowells had been snowed in after coming for supper last night, however, she hadn't seen Fabian without a book in front of his face outside of meals.

"You are a goddamn pathetic excuse for a husband!" Lord Nowell was berating Anne's uncle, Lord Fitzwilliam, in the corridor outside the library. "Miss Darcy was man enough to get rid of her. By God, I will not see Maria go the way of her mother. If that shrew says one more thing to upset my girl, I will take my daughter back and shove a cue stick so far up—" 

Fabian's dark, freckled skin burned across his cheeks. When his grip on his book faltered, it fell to the floor with a thud. He shoved it back into the case without thinking. "Damn. I mean," he said hurriedly, "I apologize. And I apologize for my father. He would not have... if he knew you could hear. Or at all! He is just worried for my sister."

Holding no illusions about her mother's personal charm, Anne merely nodded. "Of course."

When the voices in the corridor did not pass away as quickly as might have been hoped, Fabian again turned to Anne with regret in his eyes. "Do you mind if I... if I wait- uh, sit here until they are gone?"

"No." She observed Fabian as he gingerly sat down beside her. To be sure, he did not answer all of Anne's ideas of masculine beauty. She had read too many novels for that. But Lord Fabian had no glaring physical defects, and his boyish manners and even his naïveté could have been pleasing in a man ten years younger. Clearly, Lord Nowell had not given this son any lessons on the proper use of power, as proven by the mess Lord Fabian had made of pursuing Anne's cousin, Georgiana. Anne didn't mind that either. She believed there was kindness behind all of Lord Fabian's nervous affectations. He certainly wasn't a brute. And Mother will approve. "My lord, I would like to speak with you about a particular matter."

"You would?"

"Yes. You see, I need a husband, and you need a wife."

Fabian was alarmed. "Miss de Bourgh... I'm... that is, I don't think..."

"Have I shocked you? I apologize. Until I came to the capital, I was more used to thinking than speaking. Society was limited, and my mother was always present. I think you must understand. Your father is a little like her, and they have the same goal for us at the moment. Neither of us will know peace until we oblige them. You need a wife to keep your house, entertain your guests, and bear your children. I am capable of doing all of those things as well as any lady. My health can be indifferent, I admit, but the physicians think I should have died by now if it were serious. Certainly, I will not disgrace or bankrupt you. I do not need sheltering as certain other young ladies might."

To his surprise, Fabian felt his alarm at this exceptionally unorthodox offer morphing into curiosity. Given time to consider his actions, he had seen all the mistakes he had made with Anne's cousin. He would have been unhappy with her once he was used to her face and understood she didn't fit the form he had created for her at first sight. She too would have been miserable, and it would have been his fault. These realizations had made the idea of finding a wife even more terrifying. But now, here was this lady, who seemed to want very little from him, offering to solve all of his problems. It seems so easy. Too easy? What did my father say about things that are too good to be true? "If I may ask, how would any of this benefit you?"

"I don't want to go back to Varainsee with my mother. A marriage is the only way to accomplish that, and as you are decent and eligible, you would do as well as any other man for me."

"You... you don't like your mother?"

Anne looked down. "I am ready to live a life somewhat separate from hers."

Fabian bit his lip. "But not a life completely separate?"

Oh, bother. Mother, if only you knew. "I am her only child. I could not be so unkind as that."

"Of course not. She's an admirable lady."

Anne's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"I mean that- that she is a brave lady, at least. My father is overwhelming to me but not so much to her. I wish I could be a little like that." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "And... you don't mind that I don't... have particular feelings?"

No, no, a thousand times no! "Not at all, if you do not expect them of me."

"Of course not. But this is very odd, Miss de Bourgh, you must agree."

"I do, but I see no better solution. And nothing would please my mother more." Anne was rewarded with a smile from Fabian. Dear God, did my mother just win me a husband?

Fabian bit his lip, thinking hard over this offer that still seemed to be too good to be true. "Is this- is this because I'll be Lord Nowell?"

"Yes, it is. Otherwise, you wouldn't want a wife at all, I think. But, if your father changes his mind someday, I will not regret it as long as you do not regret marrying me." Anne smoothed her gown against her thighs. "What do you think?"

January 31st

"No!"

"Father..."

"I said no, Fabian! I am not sharing grandchildren with that harridan."

"But you wanted me to find a wife!"

"Find a different one!"

"No!" Outside of his attempts to know Anne a little better, he had thought about nothing else for three days. When the Nowells were finally able to leave Fitzwilliam House that morning, Fabian had made up his mind. He was determined not to be bullied into changing it. "If I have to be married, I'm choosing my own bride."

"And this is your choice? What could possibly have possessed you?" Orsino watched his son for any sign of a response. Fabian looked away. "At least tell me you've ruined the girl. At least give me that much!"

"Of course not!"

"Of course not," Orsino grumbled to himself. If he ever had the pleasure of buying Fabian's way out of trouble even once, he could die a happy man. It would never happen. 

Content with his two older sons as heir and spare, Orsino had let his quiet, shy boy get away with being quiet and shy. He hadn't known then that Antonio would die young and Sebastian would sire one daughter and then catch the carnal pox from a whore. It was only now, in the midst of disaster, that he could see what he had done. Grudgingly, Orsino tried to change tactics. "Son, I may be an old man, but I don't intend to drop dead tomorrow. We can take some time and find a lady you truly admire."

"I admired her cousin, and it only made everything difficult. Miss Darcy seemed so pretty and delicate, and it was all I could see! Miss de Bourgh is not like that." 

"Do you mean to say she is ugly and crude?

"No!"

"Her mother is, and a lady always likes to hear how she is like her beloved mother. You should make haste to tell her you think so."

"Father, please, no more of your jokes. What I mean to say is that I can understand Miss de Bourgh. She does not make me feel distracted or strange, and I feel comfortable talking to her. It will be hard enough trying to fill Sebastian's place. I am not like him or Henry or Antonio. If I have to be like them for the sake of the family, can I not at least have a wife who makes me feel at ease with myself?"

The wheels turned in Orsino's mind. 

"I can't save you from being my heir. Henry has to finish his education before I could begin to train him to be a governor. He is not even old enough to be seated yet. But, if you are willing to make a little gamble on your old man's life..."

"G-Gamble? What do you mean?"

"You will be my heir until Henry is ready. You will be the most diligent student in the land," Orsino said forcefully. "You will absorb the information and the personality you need to be a governor. You will add to the family tree. If you do all of that and if I live until Henry is ready, I will put you behind him and his heirs in the succession."

In all the world, no son had ever been so happy to be told he could be passed over for his baby brother. "And I can marry-"

"On two conditions. The first is that you tell her exactly what the plan is. If she does not want to marry someone who might never be Lord Nowell, if she does not want to start on children immediately, you will respect that and find another lady to wed. The second condition is that her mother is never to be told the slightest bit of this plan until and unless Henry becomes my heir. And if that happens, I will tell Lady Catherine."

"You want Miss de Bourgh to lie to her mother?"

"My son, consider this your first lesson: not disclosing every thought in your head is not the same as lying. Consider it economy of information. Your lady is of an age to sign her own contracts, is she not?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then her mother does not have to know every last detail of her married life. Now, go send a note to your sister asking her to arrange something so you and I can speak to Miss de Bourgh without her mother. Maria will know how to do it." Orsino picked up his cue stick. "Now, take a good look at the chair. It's the only one in the room, Fabian, and you'll know what that is if it ever belongs to you. Until then, get out."

Next Post: "Bound for the prize of all too precious you."