The Plain Cousin

By Louisa Hart

Life is far from easy if you are outspoken as well as poor and plain as Emily found out during her London season. Expected to make her glamorous cousin shine, she spends much of her time on the side lines. But one evening she meets the reclusive Marcus Blackwell, who is more interested in changing laws than dancing with debutantes. As they get to know each other, Emily begins to wonder if rich aristocrats ever fall for a plain girl from the country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781291320114

Book preview

The Plain Cousin

The Plain Cousin

A summer romance

By Louisa Hart

Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,

Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth;

But, either it was different in blood,--

Or else misgraffèd in respect of years—

Or else it stood upon the choice of friends

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Copyright

Copyright © 2013 Louisa Hart

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-291-32011-4

This work is licensed under the Creative

Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported

License. To view a copy of this license, visit

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Chapter 1

Just trust yourself, then you will know how to live. 

Johann Wolfgang v. Goethe

I have better things to do than go to a society ball tomorrow! Marcus raised an eyebrow and pushed his hands through his already dishevelled dark hair.  He was exasperated, having made the same point over and over again without getting through.  His friend Oliver Downham, Viscount Radbourne had been trying to persuade him for the last half hour to accompany him to one of the summer’s highly anticipated balls.  Oliver had fallen for one of the season’s most sought after debutantes, Julianne Carstairs who was not only stunningly beautiful but also an heiress.

Marcus, I know that you find these events tedious in the extreme, but you really cannot hide yourself away from the ton all season.  It is all very well being a rising star in Parliament, but sooner or later you will have to find a suitable wife.  Especially if you are aiming for high office. Marcus Blackwell was Oliver’s closest friend, they had more or less grown up together as their families were neighbours in Kent.  After they came down from Oxford, they had enjoyed life in town for a few years, but both their fathers had died when the young men were still in their twenties.  Both had to shoulder responsibility for their estates, and take up their seats in Parliament, with all that that entailed.  While Oliver tried to get away with the minimum attendance possible, being far more focussed on turning around the family’s ailing fortunes, Marcus had thrown himself into a parliamentary career.

They were loosely associated with the more progressive elements in Parliament, Marcus because he was convinced that the old order of things had to change and that England’s future lay in manufacturing and commerce, and Oliver because he generally followed Marcus’ lead.  In the end that had proved fortuitous for him, as Sir Peregrine Carstairs was likely to approve of a suitor for his only daughter, who did not look down on manufacturing and the new money associated with it. 

Their discussion took place late on evening in Marcus’ study after one of Oliver’s rare attendances at the House of Lords.  Marcus had thrown off his coat and propped up his feet on the fender.  He was a good looking man in his early thirties, tall, broad shouldered and with an easy countenance.  His long and well-formed legs were encased in snugly tailored pantaloons, his dark waistcoat was stylish and his cravat was still perfectly tied.  He looked thoughtful and a frown creased his forehead.  While he cared deeply for his friend, he detested the social whirl of the season and rarely braved the salons and ballrooms of fashionable London.

Until half an hour ago, the two men had enjoyed an after dinner brandy and a lively debate about the day’s events, but then Oliver had mentioned the ball.  Marcus had come up with one argument after another why he would not come with him, but Oliver would not let it go. 

To the ton Marcus had it all; good looks, a considerable fortune, an easy manner as well as a sensible approach to life.  But instead of spending his time at his club or society events, he chose to shut himself away in committee rooms or his study with a never ending string of amendments to the new Corn Laws.  As so often, his friend Oliver tried to draw him away from his solitary life.  The season was in full swing and some of their friends were beginning to worry about Marcus’ reclusive lifestyle.  Most of them could not understand why this work mattered to him. They had been brought up to expect a carefree life, living of their parents’ fortunes or failing that, finding a wife with a suitable dowry. 

Marcus could see the wisdom of his friend’s advice.  In the last year or so he had begun to realise that he would only go so far in politics without the support of a wife, who could be his countess and hold her own in the more intellectual gatherings he favoured.  But the young women he met on his occasional forays into society were just so empty headed and he found the whole courtship rituals utterly tedious.  This was compounded by the fact that he was considered extremely eligible, not just because of his fortune or the fact that he was the Earl of Kidlington, but for his good looks and elegant appearance.  Marcus could never understand what they saw in him. To be fair, he was tall, well built with even features and he had inherited his mother’s startling blue eyes.  He dressed carefully and not ostentatiously, much to the chagrin of his valet Neville.   At least going to the ball would keep Neville from badgering him for a while…

Remind me again, why this ball is going to be different to all the other balls, soirees and entertainments you have been dragging me to for the last few months?

You sound as if I have been forcing you out of your lair every single night.  You have not been further than your club more than couple of times this season, and that includes that dreary dinner you made me attend with all your political cronies.  I have never been so bored in my life.  Sometimes Oliver really despaired of his friend.

Would you like to be hunted like some rare animal, every time you venture out into society?  Not only do I have to try and talk to a gaggle of insipid Misses, but I made the mistake to speak with that infernal woman Clarissa Trenholme.  Did you know that she almost waylaid me in the park yesterday?  I was out riding with Penwright and Hasling and she as good as threw herself in my way.  Fortunately Dermot got to her first, and escorted her back to her chaperone.  Miss Trenholme was one of the more tenacious debutantes; she was in her second season and desperately trying to secure a titled husband.  She had a generous dowry; but for all that her manner was pushy, bordering on overbearing.  She was too full of her own accomplishments, which meant that she hadn’t taken at all.

Good old Dermot, always a peace maker, and even more so since he married.  Who would have thought that he and Rosalind would suit so well.  Dermot was one of their oldest friends, and the first of their little circle to get married.  The marriage was fairly recent and his friends would good humouredly tease him about being henpecked.  Though Marcus suspected that his friend was deeply in love with his lovely wife, and Rosalind reciprocated the feeling in equal measure. 

Dermot and Rosalind will be there tomorrow, so they can protect you from the appalling Miss Trenholme.   And no doubt some of your committee colleagues will be attending as well, so you can always hide in the corner and plot strategy. 

As always when Oliver talked about his political interest, Marcus had to fight to hide a smile.  He wished that his friend would take his own responsibility more seriously, but Oliver’s mind was taken up with his financial worries and how he would be able to provide his younger sister with a dowry when the time came.   

Are your mother and Melinda attending?- -You know mater – wild horses wouldn’t keep her from a ton event and a chance to meet up with her friends when she is up in London.  All they seem to be doing is scheming and gossiping as you know.  But Melinda isn’t out yet and has to stay at home, so she will be grumbling about the unfairness of life.  She won’t be making her debut until next year, as you know.  Truth be told that is not something I am looking forward to." 

Marcus’ countenance brightened somewhat about the prospect of seeing Oliver’s mother again.  After the death of his own parents, the Viscountess Radbourne had been one of his mainstays, helping him to find his way around his new responsibilities.  And now that she had given up trying to snare him for Melinda, he felt relaxed with Oliver’s family again.  In fact he was looking forward to spending some time with them in Kent at the end of the season in a few weeks.

All right, I’ll come along tomorrow night for an hour or so.  After all, how bad can it be?  Oliver breathed a sigh of relief; until the last moment he had not been sure that he would be able to persuade Marcus to come.  Of course it wasn’t essential that Marcus accompany him, but he always valued his friend’s opinion, and Marcus had not met the lovely Julianne, so Oliver was keen for his friend to meet his intended and show her off.

After Oliver left, no doubt to stay at his club rather than with his family, Marcus returned to his desk.  There was always plenty to do, but for once he could not focus on work.  Oliver’s words about needing a wife still rang in his ears.  It was probably time to give marriage some serious thought.  His parents had a conventional arranged marriage and he was convinced that it had not been a happy union.  Especially in later years he remembered a lot of arguments and bitter words between them on the rare occasions he was home.  Marcus was loath to settle for the kind of marriages he saw around him, they were more like business arrangements than relationships.  Other than Dermot and Rosalind, he could not think of any couple among his immediate acquaintances who had married for affection, let alone love.  He knew that most men kept a mistress and considering the often frosty relationships with their wives he couldn’t event blame them.  But that was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his days; he wanted more for himself, even if he wasn’t clear in his own mind what exactly that meant.

Was it really so difficult to find somebody to share his life with?  Passable good looks and most of all a sensible mind was all he wanted, but judging by his recent encounters with marriageable females even that seemed to be too much to ask for.  While he had met some beautiful women, as soon as they opened their mouths, they only seemed to giggle or prattle on about fashion and the latest gossip.

With those somewhat gloomy thoughts he tried to concentrate on his work again.  But by now he was in no mood to look at the papers on his desk, so he poured himself another brandy and decided to retire for the night.  He rang for Neville who expressed his surprise about the early hour of the evening.  To cheer his valet up, Marcus told him he would be attending the Carstairs’ ball the following evening.  He watched Neville’s face as he imparted the news; the valet tried valiantly to hide his pleasure about the prospect that for once his skills would be used to the full potential.  But he couldn’t quite stop himself from admonishing his master that he should go out more rather than being stuck in the library with ‘those dreary documents’ as he phrased it.  Marcus just nodded absentmindedly and sent him off. 

Chapter 2

How we spend our days, of course, is how we spend our lives.

Annie Dillard

Later the same evening, the Carstairs party returned to their rented house in Mount Street.  They had been to one soiree, a ball and a musicale.

Good evening, Madam, Sir, Miss Carstairs, Miss Winterton.  I trust you had an enjoyable evening.  Trubshaw, the Carstairs’ butler opened the door with a flourish.  He took a keen interest in the affairs of the family and thoroughly enjoyed his role during the season in London. 

Goodness, what a tedious evening remarked Emily under her breath. Though she was grateful to her aunt for inviting her to join Julianne for her first season, she did not really enjoy the endless evening entertainments.

Well, that went well, even if Viscount Radbourne was nowhere to be seen.  I hope he hasn’t lost interest in you, Julianne.  But did you see those flowers at the ball, so provincial.  Just wait till they see my orchids tomorrow. said Lady Carstairs to no one in particular.  She and her daughter Julianne thrived on the endless round of invitations and liked to pick over every detail of the night, but tonight they had come home relatively early as it was Julianne’s big coming out ball the following day.

I am in my study, my dear, if you want me.  As always Sir Peregrine took the earliest opportunity to get back to work or just escape, and he worried about having been so far away from his business for so long.

Lady Carstairs waved at her husband, then turned to her daughter and Emily: Girls, I think you better go up to bed, it will be a long day tomorrow.  I will send Perkins up to help you get ready.

Mother, can we also have some hot chocolate? I don’t think I can go to sleep just yet, I am too excited about the ball tomorrow.

I’ll come in to see you, once Perkins has taken down your hair and are ready for bed. Emily promised.  She took her cousin’s arm and led her upstairs to their bedrooms on the second floor. 

Emily opened the door to her own bedroom and sat down at her dressing table; relieved at long last to be home and on her own, if only for a moment.  The curtains were drawn, and there was a cheerful fire in the grate.  Even after all those weeks in London, she still couldn’t believe that she was living in such luxury.  She was sleeping in a four poster bed, an imposing piece of furniture with light blue hangings that matched the curtains and the two little armchairs by the window.  The big wardrobe was filled with fashionable clothes and a maid was on hand to help her dress and arrange her hair. 

All this was so different from her home in Grantham.  Her mother, aunt Lavinia’s sister, had chosen to marry for love, a country solicitor of moderate means.  They lived comfortably but comparatively simply in Grantham.  Emily had had a carefree childhood and grown up in a happy house.  But her sheltered life came to a sudden end, when her father died unexpectedly a year ago. 

Aunt Lavinia had offered to sponsor Emily for a season in London, and there was the expectation that Emily, like her cousin, would make an advantageous marriage.  But Emily did not really take.  She was slim and taller than average, with unruly brown hair, that she would prefer to wear in a long plait.  Working in her parents’ garden and greenhouse she usually forgot to wear her bonnet, so her complexion was unfashionably tanned.  But she had wide dark grey eyes which sparkled with mischief and her generous smile lit up her face. 

She remembered her promise to Julianne and started to take off her dance slippers and put her simple pearl necklace on the dressing table.  The necklace had been the last present from her father and it was one of her most treasured possession.  For her it was more precious than the much more expensive jewellery that lit up the ballrooms.  She took the pins out of her hair and brushed it out before plaiting it ready for the night.  By the time she had finished, Perkins, the maid she shared with Julianne, came in and helped her take off her dress and stays.  Emily put on a cotton nightgown, matching wrap and slippers and made her way to Julianne’s room. 

Julianne’s room was even more sumptuous than Emily’s, with a separate dressing area and a comfortable ottoman in front of the windows.  The room was decorated in shades of mauve, with lilac cushions scattered on the ottoman.  Like in Emily’s room, the curtains were drawn and the room was comfortably warm.  On the little side table was a tray with two cups, a silver chocolate pot and a plate of dainty biscuits. 

Emily poured some chocolate for both of them and brought it over to Julianne’s dressing table.  While she massaged Julianne’s tense shoulders, the girls discussed the evening.

I wonder where Lord Radbourne was tonight? – Julie, you really cannot expect him to be at every event we go to.  You know what men are like; most of them don’t seem to enjoy the season.  And Lord Radbourne has other responsibilities as well."

You are right as always.  But... – You really like him, don’t you? - Oh, Emily I don’t know.  He is nice, he dances well, and I enjoy spending time with him.  We all know that the reason for us coming to London is that we both try to make good marriages.  And a title always helps, where father is concerned. She paused remembering the evening …But wasn’t tonight fun?  Did you see that woman at the soiree with the turban and the tiny dog in her arm?  I am sure she was feeding it tidbits…

Emily took a sip of chocolate and curled up in an armchair, prepared for Julianne to rattle on about the evening’s events.  She knew from experience that Julianne would not go to sleep until she had relived the whole evening.  While Julianne talked, she let her thoughts wander. 

Emily was grateful to her aunt for this opportunity.  But it was just all so different from home.  While she enjoyed the luxurious surrounding of the house in Mount Street and spending time with Julianne, she missed her family, the easy banter around the dining table.  Her parents had always encouraged her to think for herself and she knew that she could be quite outspoken.  She found the conversations of the ton boring and more than once she had got into trouble for voicing her opinion.  She had quickly learned that girls were not supposed to think, let alone take an interest in public affairs. 

At home, she was encouraged to read the news sheets.  Here in London, she could not even get her hands on one.  The papers were ironed by Trubshaw, and usually delivered to uncle Peregrine in his study.  So she went to the lending library with Julianne, but she quickly got bored with Mrs Radcliffe’s gothic novels.  And hers were some of the better ones. She had read so many of them since she had come to London, that she was sure she could write her own.  And as it was looking increasingly unlikely that she would make any match, let alone an advantageous one, she was seriously considering whether this might be something she could do, once she returned to Grantham.  If she was destined to be an old maid, she might at least try to secure her independence.  … Do you think he will be here tomorrow?  Emily realised, that Julianne was talking about the ball tomorrow.

Julie, I am sure, he will be there.  He does seem quite smitten with you.  With all our preparations your ball will be one of the most elaborate affairs of the season.  And Parliament doesn’t sit on a Saturday, so it is bound to be a crush.  I really think you should try and get some sleep now.  Aunt Lavinia is bound to panic about lots of last minute things tomorrow, and you know how she relies on both of us to keep her calm. - You are right, Emily.  Good night and sleep well.

Emily woke up early the next morning.  The downstairs maid was still cleaning her fireplace.  Emily jumped out of bed and peeked out of the window. She decided that it looked as if it would be a sunny