Chapter Eight: Quoth Cassandra

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Grace returned home that afternoon in an unsettled state. She had known very well what James was rumoured to be — a flirt, a seducer, a lover of married women — but in her innocence she had not quite comprehended the full scope of the word lover. There was something very ugly about the world James had described, a world where the vows of marriage were so easily broken, and something frightening too. She had no wish for own marriage to be part of that world. Even if she never came to love James, any betrayal would hurt her, humiliate her.

Her anxiety was not aided by Mr Follet's mood at dinner that night. Normally, when there were no guests at the table, he took little part in the conversation except to censure Emma or Alice as needed. Tonight, however, he was in a cheerful mood (Cook had, for once, produced an extremely good dinner, even if all the main dishes were fish-based) and, after making humorous observations about Emma's hair and Alice's dress, complimented Grace on her looks and began to gloat about the upcoming wedding.

"Three weeks' courtship!" he said. "The couple must be nearly in love by now. In my day, a courtship lasted only as long as it took to read the Banns."

The thought of the Banns being read startled Grace. "I did not think James and I were to marry so quickly."

Alice looked up from her plate of scalloped oysters. "Last week you were complaining it was too long."

Mr Follet ignored them both "But then Grace always has been a creature of slow-moving passions." He gave a bark of laughter. "You take after your mother."

A rare thread of anger unfurled inside Grace at the comparison. She was not like her mother.

"I dare say a girl like you, Grace, needs to be told she's in love in order to be in it. I said the same to your mother, you know. A week before our wedding I told her she loved me and so she did. I will tell young Redwood to say the same to you."

For a moment, Grace could almost hear James saying the words in her ear, in that self-satisfied, butter-in-the-mouth way of his. Her hands clenched involuntarily on her cutlery and an oyster shell shot off her plate and rolled into the centre of the table.

Emma laughed. Even Mr Follet, in his cheerful mood, gave a thin smile.

"Perhaps I won't tell him to tell you that then."

"Please, Mr Follet," Mrs Follet said, "don't tease her."

"I'm not teasing, Nell. Just a bit of fun." Mr Follet's smile broadened. "I'm happy for Grace. This is going to be very good for her. James is just the sort of young man she needs. Of good family, of solid independence, and no legions of unmarried sisters to weigh down his purse strings. All that remains is for her to realize it, and fall in love."

"Is it James she needs," Alice inquired, "or his family and his purse strings?"

"There can come no good of marrying a man without means or family," Mr Follet said. "And Grace really has excelled Ellen and Harriet in this matter. Mr Underton has means enough, but he has no family worth speaking of. Mr Montague has family enough — perhaps even too many, with all his aunts and sisters — but his fortune is dreadfully encumbered by that difficult estate. But young Redwood comes of exactly the right sort of family, and his fortune, when he inherits it, is tied up in nothing."

"I hope he doesn't mismanage it," Mrs Follet said anxiously. "These young men..."

"I will be around to advise him, no doubt," Mr Follet said.

"I'm not sure James would like that," said Grace.

Mr Follet raised his eyebrows. "He will listen to good advice for the sake of his wife."

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