pursed his lips. ‘I’m afraid, Miss Gray, that if your father has given his consent, upon reaching her eighteenth birthday your sister may legally marry; unless there are any grounds for objecting, perhaps because of a prior engagement by either party. What impressions have you formed of this young man?’
Dorothea frowned. ‘He seems very affable but Lucy is young and I am concerned by the speed with which they have made their decision.’
‘Do you know much of the family?’
‘Nothing at all. I believe they live in Dean Hall, Northampton, but there have been no introductions as yet.’
‘Perhaps it would be worth writing to introduce yourself and to ascertain their views on this – may I say – precipitate courtship. If they support Captain Harvington, they can perhaps bring some financial pressure to bear and urge him to behave with less impetuosity.’
‘Yes, that seems a sensible idea.’ Dorothea was glad of the suggestion, which seemed likely to help.
‘As for going to war, I can’t believe the army would give permission for such a young girl to accompany them. Perhaps Captain Harvington has not told his superior officers quite how tender in years she is. If I might make a suggestion, you could write to his company – the 8th Hussars, was it not? – and make your objections plain.’
Dorothea hesitated. ‘I don’t want Lucy to hate me for my interference. She is such a passionate girl and feels things so strongly … I don’t suppose I could ask you to write to them discreetly, as a friend of the family?’
He sat up straight, puffing his chest out: ‘Indeed, I would be delighted to perform this service, Miss Gray. Do not concern yourself overmuch; I’m sure common sense will prevail.’
That evening, Dorothea wrote to Charlie’s parents telling them of her fears for her sister if she went to war, and asking them to consider putting a restraining hand on their son’s shoulder. Perhaps, she suggested, the families should meet to discuss what was best for the headstrong pair.
She gave the letter to Henderson to post straight away. There was no time to waste. With any luck Lucy would never find out it was she who had curtailed their nuptial plans – but even if she did, Dorothea didn’t doubt she was acting for the right reasons.
A reply came from Mr Harvington of Dean Hall three days later and it struck alarm into Dorothea’s heart.
‘We have washed our hands of our erstwhile son Charles,’ the letter read, ‘and we sincerely advise you to prevent your sister from marrying him. He is a scoundrel of low morals, a wastrel who will never be sufficiently practical to look after a wife, and all in all a man who is not to be trusted.’ Mr Harvington added that although they had bought Charlie his commission as a captain, he could expect no further support from his family but was quite alone in the world, with no one to blame but himself.
Dorothea read the letter several times, agonising over what to do next, and finally she decided she had no option but to show it to Lucy. She knocked on the door of her sister’s room, and opened it to find Lucy engaged in brushing out her waist-length hair in front of her dressing table. It was a cosy room, with heavy drapes and a fire in the grate. Candles flickered by the bedside and on the dresser, making shadows dance on the walls.
‘I wrote to introduce myself to Captain Harvington’s family,’ Dorothea confessed after a moment’s hesitation, ‘since we must soon be kin. This reply has recently arrived.’
Lucy grabbed the letter and her cheeks reddened as she perused it. When she reached the end she screwed the paper into a ball and flung it across the room. ‘You had no right to contact them!’ she hissed. ‘I could have told you his family hate him! He explained to me all about it. They disinherited him over some stupid argument five years ago which was not his fault in any way and it is a source of great sadness to him. How dare you go behind my back and write to them!’
It was just the reaction Dorothea had feared but she tried to stay calm and reasonable. ‘Of course I had the right. It is a serious matter if Captain Harvington has no family backing. I’m surprised Father didn’t ask about his prospects. You are too young to know what it means to marry for love to a man without a secure income; you’d have six months of happiness followed by a lifetime of worry and petty resentments.’
Lucy was intractable. ‘Charlie will make his own money. Major Dodds speaks highly of his prospects in the army and he’s extremely well liked in the regiment. Extremely.’ She swept her hairbrush off the dressing table, her temper clearly building by the minute.
‘He can’t advance up the ranks without family money to buy another commission. You know that, Lucy-loo.’ Dorothea used the childhood pet name and reached out to touch her sister’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture but Lucy batted her hand away.
‘This is my one chance to be happy and I will not have you spoil it. You’re jealous and bitter and I hate you!’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I wish Mama were here. She would love Charlie as I do, and she’d be happy for me.’ Lucy turned her back but Dorothea could tell that she was crying.
She paused: their mother had been very similar in character to Lucy – lively, gregarious, but hopelessly impractical. No doubt she would have reacted with frenzied excitement to the marriage announcement and would already be planning dress fittings and floral arrangements. But that didn’t make it the right thing to do.
Dorothea tried another tack: ‘Have you thought about the danger you would be in overseas, with Russian guns aimed at your living quarters, wherever they might be? There would be none of the amenities you take for granted. Imagine – no running water, no clean, pressed clothing, no meals served at a dining table or servants to serve them. Lucy, do you even know where the Turkish lands are? They are fifteen hundred miles distant, across rough seas. And once there, perils lurk all around: vapours that rise from the land and cause fatal disease; snakes and scorpions that kill with one bite; not to mention the horrors of battle. It would not be some nursery game of soldiers.’ She stopped, wanting to comfort the sobbing Lucy, but the set of her sister’s shoulders did not invite affection.
Lucy’s words were muffled by tears. ‘Don’t you think I’ve considered all that myself? Charlie will protect me now. I’ve had a lifetime of being patronised by you and I’m fed up with it.’
Dorothea tried once more: ‘I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ever marry Captain Harvington. I’m just saying wait till after the war …’
‘Don’t you understand that I can’t be happy for a single moment without him?’
Dorothea sighed. ‘You know I have to show Father this letter, don’t you? He will have to rethink his decision once he knows Captain Harvington’s precarious situation.’
‘I see you are determined to ruin my happiness. Well, get out of my room. Just leave me alone.’ Lucy was shouting now, completely beside herself.
Dorothea paused in the doorway, but could think of nothing more to add and so she closed the door softly behind her. She could only hope that her father would see sense and, if not, that Mr Goodland’s letter would have the desired effect and Major Dodds would talk some sense into Charlie. It seemed Lucy wouldn’t listen to any point of view that didn’t agree with her own.
The next afternoon, Dorothea returned from her work at the Pimlico hospital to find an agitated Henderson waiting by the door.
‘Apologies, Miss Dorothea, but I didn’t know how to contact you. Captain Harvington came around noon with a coach and four and Miss Lucy asked me to carry down her trunk and help the driver to load it on board. Your father did not seem to appreciate …’ He paused, trying to find a tactful way of expressing himself.
‘My father didn’t try to stop them, you mean. Did she leave a letter?’
Henderson handed her an envelope and Dorothea hurried into the drawing room, threw herself into an armchair, and tore it open. Lucy’s normally pretty handwriting scrawled all over the page with rage emanating from every line.