Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged, Lady Leandra Amell tried to impress upon her three children, that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife. However she hoped this wisdom would be received by her offspring – her eldest daughter in particular – Lady Leandra was dismayed to find that it had not had the effect she intended.
‘I am not inclined to marry, Mother,’ Marian explained once again with an exasperated sigh. ‘I suspect the twins are your best hope for matrimony. I thank you for your advice, but I am perfectly content as I am.’
‘I am sure that the twins,’ rejoined Leandra, ‘would be relieved to see their elder sister settled. Bethany in particular would find her own chances much improved by your matrimony; for who will consider her while her older sister remains unwed?’
‘Any sensible man should consider courting Bethany regardless of my marital status,’ answered Marian. ‘She is far more beautiful, and far more agreeable, than I. And at the age of four-and-twenty, she is more than eligible, according to you.’
‘And at the age of eight-and-twenty,’ her mother shot back, ‘you should have taken this seriously years ago. For your sister’s sake, if not your own.’
Marian’s fiery green-blue eyes frosted over at her mother’s words, and Leandra’s heart sank as she realised, once again, that she had lost her daughter. As good-humoured and witty, yet as forceful and stubborn as her father – the late Sir Malcolm Hawke – Marian Hawke may have inherited her looks slightly more from her noble Amell heritage than the Hawke side; yet her personality was so like Leandra’s beloved late husband that it hurt sometimes, and it hurt even more when they clashed.
Leandra had been trying to find her daughter a suitable husband for years to no avail, and all it ever did was drive a wedge between her and her children. She wondered if she should give up after all.
‘Well,’ Marian finally said, her tone icy, ‘I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you.’
‘Dearest,’ Leandra started placatingly, ‘I’m sorry I brought it up again.’ She hesitated; perhaps the day right after the mourning period for Sir Malcolm had ended was a bad time to press such a sensitive subject. ‘I just worry about you girls, especially since your father’s passing just over a year ago. But I am truly sorry if I caused you pain.’
‘Thank you.’ Marian regarded her mother with a cool stare; Leandra noted, with consternation, that Marian hadn’t explicitly accepted her apology. ‘I would appreciate it if the subject were not brought up again.’
‘All I want to see – all any mother wants to see – is at least one of her children settled well. Preferably married happily, like your father and I were; the love we shared was a rare and beautiful thing, and I wish all three of you could experience such happiness.’
‘Mother, if you truly believe a single man with a large fortune must be in want a wife, perhaps you should persuade Carver to marry. He inherited the baronetcy when Father passed, as well as his wealth; and while we are living here at his mercy, I cannot see that Carver would turn us all out were he to find a wife.’
This was true, Leandra had to concede. Carver’s ultimate loyalty and love lay with their little family unit; they all knew that – there was no question that the Hawkes’ only son would always provide for his mother and sisters. While at the age of nearly five-and-twenty there was no urgency over his marital status, Leandra realised she would probably fare much better trying to arrange a suitable match for him than she had ever done for Marian.
So, it was decided: Leandra would switch her aim from finding a spouse for her first-born child to finding one for the first-born twin, for Carver was older than Bethany by mere minutes. Perhaps in time, Leandra surmised, her daughter might even forgive her interference over the past seven years. And perhaps, in time, her daughter might even find a spouse without Leandra’s interference at all.