Page 12 of A Foolish Endeavor

If you truly are unable to join me, then, please write of all your news, for I am most anxious to learn that you and your family are well.

Yours, etc.,

Carter Milbourn

Gilbert could hardly believe his luck. This was precisely the escape he needed. And despite what Carter wrote of their not being ready to wed, it suddenly occurred to Gilbert that finding a pretty heiress to accept him might be the solution to all of his problems. If he were to meet a young lady with a sizeable dowry, secure her affections, and have her agree to marry him, her finances might enable him to buy a small estate and live the life his brother was destined for—that of a landed gentleman. Much more appealing than being a curate for a paltry forty pounds a year.

The thought that he was not a prime candidate for an heiress, being a second son with only an extremely modest inheritance from his mother, briefly skittered through his mind, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He was a gentleman’s son and of a class that would make him most eligible, he was sure. In addition, he knew himself to be handsome, charming, and witty. Therefore, Gilbert had little doubt of his ability to persuade a young lady to fall in love with him. He only need to choose wisely and be certain she came from a family of wealth.

He folded the letter and hurried inside Clayton House and upstairs to his room, where he took out a sheet of paper, a fresh pen, and wrote his acceptance. He would not mail it until after speaking to his father, but he was all but certain he would be in London by the end of the week. In the meantime, he changed into his riding clothes and went to the stables to take his favorite mare out for a long ride.

That afternoon, Gilbert knocked on the door of his father’s study, which was just off the entrance hall. He knew his father would be in a better mood following the optimistic opinion on Dickie’s health from Dr. Baker. The baby’s fever was all but gone, and it appeared he would live, although the physician could not say when, or if, the seizures would stop.

“Father,” Gilbert said when admitted to the dark, book-filled room where Evan spent a great deal of every day, “Might I have word?”

“Of course, son.” Evan, who was, as usual, seated at his large paper-covered desk, gestured to the chair opposite him. “What do you wish to discuss?”

Taking his seat, Gilbert glanced up at the portrait of his mother, hanging above the mantel. Although he had been only a small child when she died giving birth to his younger sister, Charlotte, Gilbert believed his memories coincided with the painting and depicted her beauty just as he recalled it.

He cleared his throat and spoke. “Father, as you know, I have spent the last many years working hard at my studies. Indeed, I do not believe you can dispute that my primary objective has always been to follow the path you have set for me.”

“I am aware of your hard work, son, and am very proud of you. Do not think I lack any sympathy for the harder route a second son always has in a family such as ours. You must make your own way in this world, although, of course, I have been, and always shall be, there to assist.” He smiled at Gilbert. “Did you receive your testimonial letters from your professors professing you fit to be ordained? Are you now prepared to be examined by the bishop for your proficiency in Latin, scripture, and so forth?”

“My request does have something to do with all that, yes, but in truth, I am here to beg for a delay in taking orders.”

Evan’s dark eyebrows raised as he replied, “Oh?”

Gilbert rushed on, “Yes, you see, Father, I have spent so much time studying of late that I am in desperate need of some diversion and relaxation. I will soon be spending so much of my time working as Frederick’s curate, that I wish to enjoy myself a bit, first.”

“How do you propose to do that, exactly?” Evan’s tone was not harsh, but neither was it overly warm.

“I have just this day received a letter from a very good friend of mine at Oxford—Mr. Carter Milbourn—who lives in town. Recall I spent Christmastide with him last year? He writes that he is going to partake in the remainder of the Season and begs me to accompany him.”

“You surely are not expecting to marry at this point in your life, are you? Miles, Frederick, and I have discussed this at length, and we all feel it best that you take your orders, become acquainted with your new duties and, in time, gain a living of your own. It is at that point you should consider marriage, but most certainly not before. Once you are well settled, you might marry a suitable young lady, such as Miss Slade for example, and begin your family.”

“Nancy!” Gilbert exclaimed. “Why should I marry her—she is not a gentleman’s daughter.”

“True, but she is an only child, and her father’s many businesses mean she will one day be quite well off, which would help supplement your rector’s income. And she is a sweet, cheerful sort of girl—well liked by all who know her. Was she not your favorite childhood playmate? Yes, I believe she would make a very good wife for you. But, again—I do not wish to push you towards her, or any young woman. I only will repeat that romance and marriage may come in a few years, but certainly not now.”

Gilbert took a steadying breath before replying. “Goodness, Father, on one hand you tell me it is too soon to wed and, on the other, you have all but found my bride! I assure you, I have no intention of making Nancy or any other young lady an offer. I only wish to have a few months of pleasurable society before settling down to my… future career.”

Evan frowned and brought his palms together up to his lips as he considered. Gilbert sat, clenching his own hands tightly in his lap. Finally, Evan nodded. “I suppose there can be no harm in enjoying yourself for a short time. Very well. I shall give you a small stipend to assist with expenses. It is good of your friend to invite you, but you must pay your own way as much as you are able.”

“Thank you, Father. Of course, in June, I shall be four and twenty and able to receive my inheritance from my mother.”

“Thirty pounds a year, yes.” Evan chuckled. “Well, I do not believe the amount will go to your head and make you squander that yearly fortune foolishly. It is not a sum likely to attract a young lady on the hunt for a wealthy young gentleman, eh?” He lifted a corner of the blotter on his desk and removed a small key, then rose and went to a tall cabinet. He unlocked a drawer, pulled it open, and, after rummaging around a bit, he pulled out some banknotes and relocked the drawer. He handed the money to Gilbert. “Here are ten pounds. A touch extravagant, perhaps, but think of it as my gift to you for all your hard work in attaining your honors degree. I am proud of you, son.”

Gilbert swallowed his guilt as he took the bills. He vowed to repay the money as soon as he could.

“Thank you, Father. I so appreciate your approval to go to town.” Gilbert left the study and went upstairs to his room to retrieve the letter to Carter. He was already looking forward to the fine balls and parties he would enjoy. A sudden thought made him stop at the door to his room.

But how shall I get those invitations? I know virtually no one in town.

He sat at his desk, staring at the letter to Carter. It was clear that Carter was counting on his assistance to gain acceptance to the ton. How could he do that? He smiled as the answer came to him. He took out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote to his sister, Lady Dorothea Gillingham, asking for her assistance. High connections were always of considerable concern to her, and Gilbert was certain that she could have no objection to writing a note here and there to some of her friends to assist him in society. Perhaps she might even come to town herself. That would guarantee invitations.

Both letters sealed and ready to post, Gilbert sat back, pleased with his plan. He felt certain of success.

When I write home with the news of a rich fiancée, Father will not mind in the least when he learns the truth of my lack of a degree. Yes, truly, a rich bride will be my salvation.