Indiscreet. Candace CampЧитать онлайн книгу.
their son Anthony was just a child. So it was quite kind of her to take me on, as well. We all lived at the Park with my grandparents. I suppose that is why I am so close to my grandfather. My grandmother died a few years ago. I came to see my grandpapa as soon as I learned that he had been taken ill. The doctor said we should all be very careful not to upset him, that it would damage his health, maybe even send him into another fit. But I could not keep him from worrying about me. He was so very anxious, you see, because I am not married. He kept saying that I needed a husband to take care of me, which is, really, the most absurd thing, because I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
Benedict made a muffled noise, and Camilla turned to look at him sharply. He gave her a bland look in return and gestured for her to continue.
“As I was saying, he was fretting himself tremendously. You see, Grandpapa is rather old-fashioned, and he is convinced that I ought to be married.”
Sedgewick cleared his throat deprecatingly. “Well, it is the usual thing for a young lady to do.”
“Yes, but, you see, I am not the usual young lady. I don’t wish to be married.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Marriage, you see, is an institution designed for the benefit of men, and I see little advantage for a woman in marrying.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, it’s true. Men, after they marry, are still free to do as they please, the rulers of their households, whereas their wives have no freedom at all. They are expected to obey their husbands and raise heirs and keep the house in order. And nothing else. They have no rights and no freedom.”
Sedgewick smiled faintly. “Come now, Miss Ferrand, surely you overstate the matter.”
“Do I?” She straightened, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “A woman’s property becomes her husband’s as soon as they are married. She, in fact, is considered his property, a chattel. He has the right to discipline her, to restrict her movements, even to beat her if he wishes. She cannot vote.”
“Vote? Good Gad, you wish to vote?”
“I don’t see why not. But that is beside the matter. The point is, whether I wish to or not, I cannot. I have had an excellent education, and my understanding, I think I may say without contradiction, is not small. Yet the stupidest fellow is allowed to vote, simply because he is a man and owns property, whereas I am not.”
“God help us,” Benedict commented dryly. “A bluestocking.”
Camilla shot him a look that would have blighted a less sturdy sort. “I fail to see what is so reprehensible about a female of intellect and education. No doubt you are the sort who thinks that women should tend to their knitting and not speak unless spoken to or have a thought in their heads that does not pertain to dresses and hairstyles.”
“No, Miss Ferrand, actually, I have had quite enough of empty-headed females.” He gave her a small bow, a faint smile on his lips conveying the distinct impression that he included her among that number.
Sedgewick turned the conversation back to its original track. “So that is why you have not married, Miss Ferrand?”
“Yes. I see no reason to give any man control over myself or my property. I am a person in my own right, and I shall remain so as long as I do not marry. Therefore, I am twenty-five years old and a spinster, and while I am quite happy in that condition, it has worried my grandfather for years. After he was taken ill, it plagued him even more. He would tell me how he could not bear the thought of dying and leaving me unprotected. And no matter how I tried to tell him that I was fine, that I had the property my mother and father left me, so I am quite able to live independently, he would not stop fretting about it. He told me it was an unnatural sort of life I was leading, living on my own, even though I have a companion, so it is perfectly respectable. But he wanted me to have children and a man to take care of, and all the things that he said were right and natural for a woman.” She paused, then sighed and confessed, “So I told him that I was engaged.”
Benedict let out a short bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich—the defender of women’s rights, pretending that she has snagged a husband.”
“I was trying to keep him from worrying!” Camilla snapped. “Of course, you would never think of such a thing as trying to save someone pain or worry.”
“Whatever your reasoning,” he pointed out mildly, “’tis still a lie.”
“Fine words from a thief!” Camilla retorted hotly. “Or smuggler, or whatever you are. You don’t hesitate to steal carriages and kidnap people, or to knock a man senseless or draw an innocent bystander into a fight, but you draw the line, of course, at telling a small fib to ease the mind of a dying man!”
“Benedict…” Sedgewick shot him a quelling look. “Pay him no attention, Miss Ferrand. Benedict has little use for us ordinary mortals and our petty problems. It’s perfectly understandable that you would have told your grandfather that story, so that he could die more peacefully.”
“Thank you.” Camilla smiled at him gratefully and took another sip of her drink. It no longer felt like fire as it rolled down into her stomach; it merely sent a pleasant warmth spreading throughout her, lifting her spirits a little. She felt better already, she thought, and she realized that confession must indeed be good for the soul.
“You are a very understanding gentleman,” she told Sedgewick with a warm smile. “I am so glad I told you. You see, I didn’t want to lie to Grandpapa, but it seemed a small enough thing to do to make him happy. He was so sick that he didn’t ask me much about the man or how we had met.” She smiled faintly. “He didn’t even lecture me on the impropriety of becoming engaged without the man coming to ask for my hand from him first. He was quite happy about it, and after that he rested more quietly. Then he began to improve a little, and soon he began to feel much better. Before we knew it, he was cursing his valet and wanting to get up and go downstairs, and ringing a peal over the doctor’s head for not letting him. The better he felt, the more he asked me about my fiancé, and it became most awkward. Of course, I had to make everything up, and I felt so awful about lying to him. I regretted ever having told him, but I couldn’t tell him that I had invented the whole thing. I was afraid it would upset him so that he would have apoplexy again. Finally, I could not bear it any longer, and I fled back to Bath. But then I kept getting letters from him asking about my fiancé, wanting to know when I was going to bring him to Chevington Park to meet him. I have been trying ever since to figure out a way to get out of it.”
“Just tell him the fellow cried off,” Benedict suggested callously. “That will put an end to the matter. It is quite believable. If your escapade tonight was any indication, you would give any man adequate reason to get out of an engagement.”
Camilla swung on him. “You have the gall to blame me for what happened tonight? Anyway, my fiancé is not the sort of man who would ‘cry off’ an engagement, as you so vulgarly put it.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “That’s rich. Since your fiancé exists only in your imagination, I would imagine that he can do anything you wish.”
“I mean that the sort of man I have told my grandfather he is would never do such an ungentlemanly thing. You cannot understand that, no doubt, but most gentlemen have a code of honor.”
“Oh, aye, that’s a bit out of my reach, miss,” he replied, adopting a thick accent and tugging at an imaginary forelock like some dim-witted farmhand. “Not being used to Quality, like.”
“Do shut up, Benedict,” Sedgewick said mildly. “Obviously she could not tell her grandfather that either of them had broken off the engagement, because the old gentleman is not supposed to be upset.”
“That’s it exactly,” Camilla agreed, pleased to see that he understood. “Grandpapa is still in ill health, and the doctor says not to disturb him. He says it is a miracle that he hasn’t gone already. So I kept putting him off about when Mr. Lassiter