Of Fairytales and Happy Endings

Chapter 32. The Other Blethyn.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. ~ William Shakespeare.

Chapter 32

The Other Blethyn.

On the far side of Llys Gwyn stood a tidy little cottage. Two stories high, and quite spacious. It was well looked after and spoke of a caring owner. To this cottage Colonel Iestyn Blethyn rode on a fine, though rather cloudy, September afternoon. He was greeted at the gate by a servant who took charge of his horse.

Brushing off the dust from his uniform, Iestyn stepped through the door, handed his coat and hat to the butler and made for the parlor.

A lady had been sitting there, but she rose to greet him. She was about sixty years of age, and perhaps just a little bent with age, but her face, though showing the wrinkles of her years, was bright and her brow high and she held herself with the air and grace of the aristocracy. Her dark purple gown, nearly black in color, made her look tall and she had good figure. Everything about her lived up to the title she held, and that was Lady Blethyn, second wife to the Cenwyn Blethyn, former Earl of Llys Gwyn.

Her eye had brightened at the sight of her only son and light of her eyes, and she held out her hands to him. He took them and with a smile gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"How have you been feeling, Mother?" He asked.

Lady Blethyn shrugged and let out a sigh. "I am reminded constantly of my age. The summer is over and winter will soon settle upon us and then I shall truly be miserable. Where are they sending you next? And when shall you depart?"

"Not anytime soon, Mamma," Iestyn soothed. guiding her to the divan and helping her sit down. "I will be with you for the entire autumn. What is more, I bring news."

"News of a potential bride?"

Lady Blethyn had lost much hope that her son would ever marry. He was forty already and no wife, and what was more, no child. How was he to produce an heir for the name of Blethyn if he tarried much long. Still, she continued to hold on to a thread of hope, and at long last, it did not disappoint her.

"Just so, Mamma."

She blinked at him in surprise. "You...you..."

He laughed and squeezed her hands. "Her name is Beatrice Morton. I met her while in London. She is the niece of the Earl of Worthington. No property to her name, but a very pretty dowery of thirty thousand pounds. Though I do believe there were rumors that her uncle is going to raise it to forty thousand as she is nearly twenty one, and having been in society for over five years still has not caught a husband."

It was not exactly a promising start and Lady Blethyn knit her eyebrows together. "Why not? Is she so unhandsome that even money cannot find her a husband?"

Iestyen laughed. "No, no, Mamma. She is quite the beauty to behold. In all my years traveling around this world I have not seen anyone quite as fair as she is. And she is smart and witty. In private I could have many an interesting conversation with her, in public I would not be ashamed to present her as my wife. Totally useless of course, her mother bred her to be a fine lady and she can do nothing but draw and play the piano, but she is a great reader with a mind for science and, dare I even say, politics."

Lady Blethyn shook her head. "And what would you do with such a wife?"

"Do with her? Enjoy her for one. She does babble all that silly nonsense. Being stuck with one woman means you want to put up with her, and of all of them she is the one I can see myself putting up with. Not to mention I'll have her bear me the next Earl of Llys Gwyn of course."