by Daphne Bloom
She clears her throat and her cold demeanor returns. “If you were wise, you would call an end to this whole charade.”
“If I could,” I say, “I would.” She cocks her head as if she isn’t sure what she makes of me. “It isn’t that I don’t like your brother. He has been nothing but kind and courteous to me. Had we met under other circumstances, perhaps the doubts I feel would not exist. But I cannot deny the truth of the situation. Your father’s estate is in need of funds, and my parents insist I do my best to marry into the gentry.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to marry my brother?” Esme asks.
“I do not wish to enter any marriage as a transaction,” I say. “But I have no choice. The least I can do is be honest with Edward and myself. I don’t want to go into the marriage with unrealistic expectations.”
Esme goes quiet, thoughtful. I can see that Edward has already almost reached the little house, but I wait to see if Esme has anything more to say.
“You’ll never be happy,” she says, and my heart sinks. Until now, I had hoped that I would be. Perhaps not at first, but eventually, after Edward and I grow more sure of each other. It is now my turn to be silent. How am I supposed to respond to that?
“What will happen,” Esme asks, “if you should fail to marry a lord?”
“I don’t like to think about it too much,” I say. “My dowry will be given to my sister and she will be sent here in my place. I’ll be summoned back home and…become a spinster, I suppose. I’m already growing near to being an old maid.”
“And if you stay here, in England?” she asks. I start to laugh, but it dies away.
“I hadn’t considered it,” I say. “My family is in America, so I assume that is where I am supposed to be.”
“Hmm, family,” Esme says. “Funny how they seem to do everything in their power to make us miserable, yet still expect abject obedience.”
“Yes,” I say glumly. “Funny.”
“Well, if I were you,” Esme goes on, “I should call an end to the whole charade. Cease your foolish pursuit of a lord. You’ll only end up miserable in the end if you don’t.”
She kicks her horse into a run, leaving me in the wake of her dust and cruel words. I don’t urge my horse to follow suit. I don’t want to catch up to them and let Edward see me like this. My heart is crushed and I can feel tears in my eyes. Why would she say such a thing? I told her the truth, that this was not my design, but that of my parents. It is not within my power to stop the courtship. The most I can do is hope that I will find happiness, or perhaps contentment, in such an arrangement. People marry for reasons other than love all the time. To unite families, to join fortunes, to form alliances. This is no different. As long as everyone enters into the arrangement with full honesty, why shouldn’t Edward and I come to at least a companionable accord? Maybe someday it could be something more.
But Esme’s words worry me. She seems to think that happiness will elude me completely if I go through with the marriage no matter what. I would like to think she is wrong, but she most certainly would know better than I. Has she seen this before, contractual marriages gone awry? Surely she has.
Maybe she is right and I should give up the fight. Admit to my parents that I failed and go back home. Let my sister take a crack at elevating the family. I will…slink into the shadows, I suppose. Or, who knows, maybe I will find love. Someone who loves me for me and not a dowry. My thoughts unbidden turn to Edison Hawthorn. Someone handsome, hardworking, devoted to family. No! Not Edison himself, just someone like him.
But then I think about how poor he is. Not because I think less of him. I admire his work ethic and know he is a good man. But because of how hard his life is. Before he arrived, his siblings would attend church looking like little beggars. Their clothes were a patchwork of scraps. Edison has at least been able to provide them with new clothes, but still. A family of six in such a tiny house. No horse, no pianoforte. No maid! No cook! I don’t know the first thing about cooking or cleaning. I’d make a terrible working man’s wife.
But the thing that scares me the most is that Edison is too poor to call a doctor for his mother. If I were to marry a man that poor, what if I were injured, or caught an illness? Would I have to suffer for the rest of my life? Or worse, die young? Not to mention the dangers of childbirth.
I shake my head. I could certainly live my life with fewer fineries. I don’t need to marry an earl. I don’t even need a baron. A husband who could at least provide a comfortable life is all that I require.
But such a match would not appease my parents. If I were to write and tell them I had fallen in love with a…a clerk or a merchant, they would be furious. Forget a farmer or laborer like Edison. They would probably disinherit me altogether. Disown me for bringing such shame on the family. I’d have no dowry. No family to lean on for support during hard times. I’d miss my sisters.
I’m frustrated. Angry. Heartbroken. I can see no other path than to obey my parents and marry Edward Griswold, should he ask me. I might not find real happiness, as Esme says, but I would at least have enough money to buy distractions. Horses and pianos and trips to London. And my children would be well provided for. I suppose that might be the most important thing. My happiness, my comfort will mean very little once I have children to think about.
“There you are!” Edward calls out.
I look up and see that I have reached the creek and the trees. I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed.
“I reached the creek and saw that you were still nearly where I had left you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “The weather is just so fine, I didn’t want to rush it.”
“Indeed,” Edward says. “It has been a fine day, hasn’t it. In fact, the whole visit has been wonderful, wouldn’t you say?”
He looks at me expectantly. He is smiling, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is a warning there as well. Something telling me that if I disagree, there could be consequences. Whether from him or my parents or his parents, I have no idea. My mind is such a terrible jumble.
“Yes,” I say, trying to push all the noise away. “Yes, it has been. I have greatly enjoyed your visit.”
Esme shifts on her horse and seems to look away in disgust. She must be disappointed that I am not taking her advice.
“What do you say we head back?” Edward says. “I think I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
I nod because the words won’t come. There is a swollen lump in my chest that I fear will burst if I open my mouth. It is a pain that I fear will never go away. One that I will have to live with for the rest of my life, no matter what happens next.
Chapter Fourteen
Edison
I’m working in an area far away from the big house, planting a new hedgerow that Lady Birchwood requested. It’s hard work, and the sun is beating down on me, but I’m thankful for the distraction. I need to stay away from Lady Violet as much as possible. I don’t want to, of course. I’d much rather be working in the gardens around the house where I have a chance to glimpse at her or even say good day. But I shouldn’t.
The more I think about our conversation at the church, the more I realize how inappropriate it was. She was so open and honest with me, as I was with her, and I don’t think I said anything wrong. We kept a respectable distance from one another as well. But I was perhaps too familiar. Too friendly for a servant talking to his mistress.
In a perfect world, I would like nothing more than to be so friendly. I’m lying. In a truly perfect world, I’d be allowed to court her. But that isn’t how things are. She’s a fine lady and I’m just a gardener. She deserves better, and perhaps she has found it. She seems determined to marry Griswold, and I suppose I can sympathize. If one of my sisters received an earnest proposal from a man of means, she would be a fool to turn it down.
In truth, I don’t like Griswold. I don’t trust him. But my feelings are irrelevant. I can never really understand the inner workings of the upper class
, nor would I want to. They seem far more complicated than my life tending plants and flowers.
Speaking of which, I need to focus on my work. I push my shovel into the dirt, carving out a ditch to plant the hedges. It’s been warm and dry, which makes the soil easy to work with. It will take a lot of watering, though, after the plants are in the ground to make sure they take to their new home and don’t wither away in the summer sun.
I step on the head of the shovel to drive it into the ground when the bugger snaps right off the handle, causing me to lose my balance and fall back on my rear. I quickly jump to my feet and dust myself off, looking around to make sure no one saw me. Thankfully, I don’t think anyone did. I bend down to pull the spade out of the ground and see if the tool can be repaired, but it seems that the wooden handle had a bit of rot on the inside, making it weak. I’ll have to find a new one.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I walk across the lawn to the old tool shed at the very back of the property. It’s in a terribly inconvenient place, as far from the house as possible near the tree line of the forest that butts up to the property. But the building is a bit dilapidated, leaning to one side and weather-worn, so I’m sure Lay Birchwood is glad to have it mostly out of sight of the big house. Perhaps I should talk to her about building a new shed closer to the house when winter comes and I’m looking for more things to do. We could then tear this one down—
I stop as I reach the shed and hear voices. They are low, so I can’t understand them, but then I hear a woman giggle. A man then says something in response. I have to roll my eyes. A maid and a footman, I’d wager. I walk around the shed, planning to tell them to be off, back to their work, but it is not a footman I see with a maid pressed up against the side of the shed.
It’s Edward Griswold.
I duck back around the corner, my heart racing, praying they didn’t see me. After a moment, the pounding in my ears stops enough for me to hear that they are still whispering, giggling…kissing. I rub my head, wondering what I should do, if anything. Should I tell the housekeeper? No, I didn’t see which maid it was, and I wouldn’t want to get an innocent girl in trouble. I drop down to my knees and crawl back to the corner. I take a calming breath and peek around.
Griswold and the girl are too busy kissing and touching to notice me, so I’m able to see that it is not one of our maids Griswold has seduced, but one that arrived with the Griswold family. I’d noticed her when the family first alighted from their carriages. Lords and ladies don’t travel with housemaids, so she must be a lady’s maid.
“Are you really going to propose to that dull American?” the woman asks. I hold my breath. If I am now close enough to hear them, I am probably close enough that they could hear me if I make a sound.
“You know I must,” Griswold replies. “If I don’t, Griswold Manor will have to be sold. I dread to think of what would happen to us then.”
“You’d take me with you, though, wouldn’t you?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Mother might not be able to afford a lady’s maid if I don’t find an heiress soon.”
“I hate it,” she says, her voice pouting, “the thought of us being separated. But equally do I hate that you have to marry someone else.”
I hear the sounds of more kisses, then, “Very little will change between us, you know that. I’ll have to make sure she gives me a son, of course. But I will still have plenty of nights free for you.”
She sighs and the kissing sounds start again, along with other sounds. I decide it is best for me to sneak away while they are distracted by one another. I crawl to the front of the shed and then get to my feet and quickly run away, back across the lawn toward the big house. But once I reach it, what am I to do?
There’s no point in telling the housekeeper. She has no authority over Lady Griswold’s staff. Should I tell Lady Griswold? I can’t imagine having such a conversation with her. And she certainly would not believe me. A lowly servant accusing her son of lewd behavior? She’d shout me out the door and Lady Birchwood would probably have to fire me for insulting her guest.
I’m at a loss as to what to do and am afraid Griswold is going to get away with his betrayal of Violet when who should open the door and step out onto the wide porch but Violet herself. She closes the door and then begins to walk along in the shade, her head down, her hands twisting as if she is in deep thought.
I should tell Violet. Though I dread it. I know she will be hurt. She’ll worry about her future, about her parents. Perhaps…perhaps I shouldn’t tell her. I would hate to cause her pain. I’m about to turn away when Violet looks up and sees me, giving me a small wave.
“What are you doing?” she calls down to me.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and then step closer to the house so we don’t have to yell at one another.
“Sorry, my lady, I was lost in thought.”
“As was I,” she says. We are both quiet for a moment. I run my hand over my chin. I know what I have to do. But it’s going to be terrible.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. She must see the turmoil on my face.
“I have to tell you something.”
Her eyes go wide and her cheeks blush. She takes a step back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawthorn—”
“No, please, it’s not what you think,” I tell her. I assume she thinks I’m about to make some sort of declaration of affection.
“I…I saw something that you need to be aware of.”
“Oh?”
“Just now, a few moments ago, I saw Lord Griswold, the young one, Edward. I saw him…umm…in a delicate situation with a maid. Lady Griswold’s lady’s maid, I think.”
Her jaw drops and her hand goes to her stomach. I think I’ve made her ill.
“A…a delicate situation?” she says. “What…what do you mean?”
Now it is my turn to blush. I don’t want to describe the scene to her. “They…they were…were kissing, my lady, behind the old shed.”
She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes water and I fear she will burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
She turns away from me, takes a few paces, and then comes back. “No, no, you must be mistaken.”
I shake my head. “I am afraid to say that I’m not. I made very sure of what I saw because I would not want to make such accusations if they were unwarranted.”
“But…but…but…” She shakes her head again. “No, he couldn’t. He’s a gentleman! The son of an earl. He wouldn’t lower himself as to have relations with a servant.”
I have to wonder if she is making a terrible joke. “Surely, my lady, you must know that the men of great households take mistresses among the staff all the time.”
“I…I-I-I know,” she says as she continues to pace in a short line back and forth. “But not Edward. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t!” She looks at me, her eyes pleading, begging me to tell her I’m wrong, but I can’t.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Tears escape her eyes, running over her flushed cheeks. She does her best to wipe them away. “No, not Edward. He wouldn’t risk it. This marriage is too important for both our families. He wouldn’t.”
I stay silent. There is nothing more I can say on the matter. She then turns and looks at me sharply.
“You are mistaken,” she says firmly, squeezing her hands together.
“I assure you, my lady, I’m not,” I try to say as gently as possible.
“Then…then you must be lying,” she says, lifting her chin.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“I knew it was a mistake to speak so freely with you yesterday. If I have given you any indication that there could be something between us, I am sorry for that. I should have known better.”
I scoff and shake my head. I look at her again and see that her jaw is set tight.
“I assure you, my lady, I have no delusions about us. I would never try
to attract your attentions.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says, her voice less forceful. I think she is losing the strength in her accusations but doesn’t want to let go of them. “You are jealous.”
“Jealous?” I say. “I assure you, I am not jealous of that pompous buffoon.”
“How dare you insult your betters,” she says.
This time I do laugh. “Edward Griswold is hardly my better. I have far more honor than that. I’d never treat you—” I stop myself before I say something I shouldn’t. I step back, running a hand over my face. She is breathing hard through her nose, her mouth closed tightly. Her hands are holding each other so tightly they are white.
“You told me that something about Edward was bothering you,” I say. “A little warning in the back of your mind. Maybe this is it.”
Her jaw trembles and her posture slumps a bit. She looks weary, but still not yet beaten.
“My lady—”
“You need to leave,” she says in a harsh whisper.
I’m hurt by her sudden dismissal. Surely, she must know that I have her best interests at heart. I wouldn’t lie to her. But at the same time, I cannot tell what exactly is running through her mind. Her face is closed to me.
“Of course,” I say, backing away. “I’m sorry, Lady Violet.”
Her resolve breaks, a sob escaping from her mouth and her shoulders heave. I reach for her, but she turns away from me and runs back into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. I wish there was some way I could comfort her, but I cannot. I did the only thing I could do; I told her the truth.
What she does next is up to her.
Chapter Fifteen
Violet
I lay in my bed, listening to rain tap on the window as it falls in sheets. After what Edison told me, I feigned illness and kept to my room for the rest of the day and evening. I couldn’t let anyone see me in such a state or they would pester me into telling them why I was upset, and I’ve never been a very good liar.
