Garden of Hope

by Daphne Bloom

  “Money and a title, you mean?” I say.

  “And your rapier wit,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “You object to Lily being considered breeding stock, but are you not doing the same thing to yourself? There is much more to you than that. If you wanted to, you could find a wife and be very happy.”

  “There is also more to Lily,” I say.

  “But not enough,” Mother says. “I’m very sorry that you’ve set your heart on her. If you were a third son. Or if Alice hadn’t lost the baby…” She sighs. “Then perhaps we would let you marry Lily if you were sure she was the one you wanted. But as it is…I’m sorry. This is not just about you, but the security of your family.”

  “I know,” I say. “But I just think all of you are wrong about her. If you just give her a chance—”

  “The Season will end in a couple of weeks,” Mother says. “The proposals will come rolling in and families will return to their estates. Your options are quickly dwindling. You can’t waste time, my boy.”

  “You forget that I don’t have many options to begin with,” I say. “I have been trying to make connections with women other than Lily. They all look at me like rubbish stuck to their shoe.”

  “I am aware that the girls have been less than open to conversation,” she says. “But I think that Alice’s plan to host some small gatherings here at the house is an excellent one.”

  “She already told you about that?”

  “Oh, we talked about it days ago,” she says. I blink in surprise. “Believe me, darling, finding you a wife has been our sole topic of conversation these weeks.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Once I’m back on my feet, you can arrange a dinner. One to start. Then, after that is a disaster, maybe we can put this whole sorry business to bed.”

  Mother stands up and leans over to kiss my forehead. “The guest lists have already been put together.”

  She bustles out of the room before she can answer when I call, “Lists? As in more than one?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lily

  “Papa is not doing well,” Elise says as she paces by the windows of the morning room. I’m watering the various houseplants and flowers. Constance is in a chair, rubbing her forehead.

  “Mama says that he rarely speaks and that he sleeps all the time. It’s all she can do to get him to drink a bit of broth to keep him going.” Elise sighs and rubs her lower back. In all honesty, I’m not sure why she isn’t on bedrest, as large as her stomach is.

  “Does she want us to return home?” Constance asks. “Should he die while we are here in London…I’m not sure I’d ever forgive myself.”

  “No,” Elise says. “She says that it should be our top priority to find Lily a husband. She says that even a proposal should be enough to secure her dowry since at that point the marriage would already be a contract of promise.”

  I look down at the plant I’m currently watering, a small gardenia with waxy green leaves and white blooms, and touch its leaves. Eventually it should grow large enough that it will be moved to the terrace. Actually, it is already growing a bit big for this pot. I should pick up another…

  “Lily!”

  I snap back to myself and why I looked away in the first place. How can my sisters expect me to find a husband after what happened at the Ellsworths’ party?

  “Are you listening to me?” Constance asks.

  “I am,” I lie.

  “Put the watering can down and come here.”

  I do as she says—reluctantly—and sit in a chair as far away from her as possible. We’ve barely spoken since that terrible night other than to make small, nominal apologies to each other. Things have never been so tense between me and my sisters. They’ve always been among the few—the very few—people who seem to understand me. They might bicker with each other, but they’ve always been gentle with me.

  “This is somewhat good news,” Constance says. “If we can only secure a proposal without having to finalize a marriage, you can still receive your dowry.”

  “What? You thought I was going to leave London…married?”

  “That was the point, darling,” Elise says, lowering herself onto the couch between me and Constance. “To find you a husband.”

  I look away again. I hadn’t realized that they wanted me to not only receive a proposal but actually be married in only the few weeks left of the Season. How dreadful. That would mean marrying a man I’d only just met. It’s a terrifying thought.

  “Does Mama know what a fool I’ve made of myself?” I ask. “Have you told her?”

  “Of course I haven’t told her,” Constance says. “She’d be mortified.”

  “I think you should,” I say. “Then maybe she will call us home instead of forcing me to continue in this fool’s errand.”

  “We mustn’t give up,” Constance says. “We must carry on. Surely somewhere out there in the whole of London there must be one man for you.”

  My thoughts immediately go to Henry Pembroke. His dark hair and green eyes. The way he held me so firmly and yet so gently in his arms as we swayed to the music. I look away from my sisters as I wipe a tear from my cheek. It was such a magical moment, and then my stupid brain ruined it. It felt so…hot. Like there was so much going on, it was going to catch on fire. And then Henry saw me. Saw me in that state. Heard the things my sister said.

  If there was any man in all of London who might marry me, I think it might have been Henry Pembroke. But now I’ve ruined that. I’m mortally embarrassed. I could never face him again.

  “No, I don’t think there is,” I say.

  “What about Charles Brandon?” Constance asks Elise.

  “I heard he was spending a lot of time in Mary Spencer’s drawing-room,” Elise says.

  Constance groans. “But she’s so plain!”

  “With a lot of money.”

  “Doesn’t Edward Brunswick have a younger brother?”

  “He’s fifteen!”

  “Oh.”

  I focus my attention elsewhere as my sisters continue dredging the waters for a man—any man—for me. If I did have to leave my home and live with one of my sisters after becoming a penniless relation, which plants would I take with me? Constance has a fairly nice garden already. She has an excellent gardener. But Elise’s garden is little more than grass. I wonder if she would hire Mr. Wright, Papa’s gardener, who has taught me so much. Together, he and I could turn Elise’s grassland into a wonderland of color.

  I wonder what sort of garden Henry has. Not much of one, I should think. But then, I suppose he hasn’t a garden at all. As the second son of an earl whose unmarried, he must still live at home. I wonder where he will live if she chooses a wife this Season. It would be quite wonderful to have a large empty garden all of my own that I could design the way I wanted from scratch. Perhaps Henry could hire Mr. Wright. Oh, that would be so wonderful. He is such a wise and kindly man. I should hate to live anywhere and leave him behind. He has no one else since his wife passed. They never had children—

  A knock at the door draws my attention.

  “Mr. Albert Derby is here to call, my ladies,” the butler says.

  The three of us exchange a single glance.

  “What is he doing here?” Elise whispers, as if she’s afraid Albert might hear us.

  “I have no idea,” Constance says. “Unless he thinks Father is at his death’s door and he’s here to stake a claim for Lily.”

  “No!” Elise says. “We can’t let him do that. I’d rather have her live with me than marry that odious man.”

  My heart warms a little at this. At least my sisters have one standard when it comes to finding me a husband.

  “Can you tell him we are out?” Elise asks.

  “Umm…” The butler hesitates.

  “Of course he can’t,” Constance says. “If we were out he would have told him that in the first place.”

  “Oh, of course,” Elise says. “In that case, can’t we just send him away?”
<
br />   “Mama would be furious,” Constance reminds her. “She believes there’s some benefit to remaining in his good graces. He is family after all.”

  Elise groans and leans back against the couch cushions. “Fine. Bring him through. Help me stand, girls…or at least sit up straighter.”

  Constance and I each take one of her arms as she scoots to the edge of the sofa and sits as straight as she can.

  “Are you sure you should be here at all?” I ask, stacking pillows behind her to keep her from falling back. “You should be on bed rest. Or return home to await the birth.”

  “I’m still six weeks away at least!” Elise says. “Judith arrived two weeks after the midwife said she would. That was excruciating. I’m fine, the baby isn’t coming anytime soon.”

  “Mr. Derby,” the butler says as Albert enters the room. Albert runs his hands over his head to smooth his hair, which is already dreadfully smooth. It seems he applied a bit too much pomade.

  “Cousins,” he says. “How lovely to see all of you together. Hello, Lily.”

  I hate that he has singled me out, but I give a nod and smile all the same. “Hello.”

  “What brings you to London?” Constance asks. “I thought you would be staying behind.”

  “I was,” he says, “but your father… I’m afraid things are not looking good.”

  “We’ve just received a letter from Mother,” Constance says. “We are greatly disheartened to hear the news.”

  “Indeed,” Albert says. “We had initially thought he would recover but now… Well, I suppose things could go either way.”

  “So…why have you come to London?” Constance asks again.

  “Oh…I thought… Well, I thought…” He is squeezing the brim of his hat and turning it around in his hands so much I think it will be a completely different shape when he again tries to wear it.

  “I am here to pay court to Cousin Lily,” he says finally.

  “Now?” Elise says as though Albert has just gravely insulted me, twisting so that she looks at him over the back of the couch. “Her father is on death’s door and you are here to pay court? Really, Albert.”

  “That…that…that is precisely the reason why now is the time,” he stammers to explain. “It is no secret that your father’s will leaves a sizable dowry for Lily, but only if she marries before his death. I’m here to put her worries to rest and let her know—”

  “You could tell her yourself,” Constance interrupts. “She’s right here.”

  “Oh! Of…of…of course.” He clears his throat and comes over to me. “Lily, I know you are only here in London to search for a husband so you do not end up penniless. Homeless. If you would do me the honor of being my wife, I would take care of you for the rest of your days.”

  “No,” I say, and when I hear my sisters suck in a breath at the same moment I know I’ve said the wrong thing. But they can’t really have expected me to say yes, could they? “I mean…no, thank you.”

  “What Lily is trying to say, Albert,” Elise says from her seat still on the sofa, “is that she’s already had several men pay court to her. She just hasn’t made her choice yet.”

  “She…she has? You have?” he asks me, and I shrug my shoulders and give a helpless smile, looking back to Elise for help.

  “Your offer is very kind, Cousin,” Elise says, “but wholly unnecessary. Lily will come out all right in the end. No sense in falling upon your sword.”

  “Oh, no, not at all,” Albert says. “You know I’ve always been terribly fond of Lily. Please, do at least strongly consider my offer. After all, shouldn’t a daughter of Edward Derby be the next Countess of Derby?”

  Constance and Elise grimace and I know they partly agree with him. Sadly, I partly agree with him too. It is a terrible blow to the family to watch another man inherit everything our father, grandfather, and the generations before them have built. You’d have to do back at least four generations to find a relative in common between us and Albert. He’s barely worth considering a relation.

  That he has always been fond of me is a lie. He was also quite fond of Constance when she came out. And after she married he was quite fond of Elise. He’d always ignored me until they both married someone else.

  I’m about to remind him of his fondness for my sisters when Constance speaks.

  “That is a fair point, Cousin,” she says, “and one that weighs heavily in your favor. But still, the decision is Lily’s and I’m afraid she needs a bit more time.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Albert says, looking away from me. “Well, I am staying at the club. When she…when you’ve decided, do let me know.”

  I nod and give a tight smile to keep from telling him that I’ve already chosen poverty over him.

  “Good day, girls,” he says as he quickly leaves the room.

  “God forbid he actually pay court to Lily,” Elise says, adjusting the cushions so she can lay back again. “Can you believe that? He didn’t even invite her to tea or a walk in the park. Is that how he pays court? Does he really think she would pick him without him having to do an ounce of work?”

  “He probably didn’t think he had any competition,” Constance says.

  “He doesn’t,” I point out. Except for Henry, and I’ve utterly destroyed that possibility. “Why is he so insistent anyway? If he waits until after Father passes and becomes the Earl of Derby he could find a better wife than me.”

  “I think he believes it will make him more legitimate in the eyes of the gentry,” Constance says. “And if Father doesn’t die, your dowry will set him up for life. Marrying you benefits him whatever happens to Father.”

  It all makes me rather sick. How can Father not see how truly terrible Albert is?

  “I think it might be time to start a rumor about Lily,” Constance says. “One that will make it impossible for the ton to ignore her.”

  “Aren’t they already talking about me enough?” I say. “After…the other night?”

  “Oh, this will be a good rumor, trust me.”

  “You can’t possibly mean…?” Elise says.

  “Oh, but I do.” Constance goes to a nearby table and pulls out a notebook and pencil.

  “If we let it slip just how large Lily’s dowry is, the fortune-hunters will be knocking the door down,” Elise says.

  “And what is Albert but a treasure-hunter?” Constance says.

  Elise sighs, obviously uncomfortable, but what choice do we—do I—have? I simply can’t marry Albert.

  “So, who should we invite for tea tomorrow?” Constance asks, her pencil at the ready. I’m disappointed when they don’t mention Alice Pembroke, Henry’s sister-in-law, but I don’t dare suggest her. The Pembrokes would surely never allow Henry to pay court to me after the way I acted the other night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Henry

  “How are you enjoying London?” Julia Davenport asks me.

  “Oh, not so very much,” I reply, and I see her smile nearly give way. She sits to my right while Alice sits to my left. George sits across from us. Various members of our family and Julia’s family are seated around the rest of the table. “There’s far too much dancing involved,” I say in a poor attempt at a joke.

  “Oh,” Julia says, laughing louder than the joke merited. “Well, I do enjoy the occasional dance, but in the summer heat they can be more a burden than a joy.”

  I give a polite smile and nod as I take a drink from my goblet.

  “I’m just as happy with a walk in the garden,” Julia goes on. “Or even simply having polite conversation in the parlor. I’m not particularly picky.”

  She obviously isn’t or she wouldn’t be here tonight. Her father is not a peer, but he is rich. He is no doubt hoping to make his way into the nobility through his daughter’s marriage. It’s a common tactic, but one that turns my stomach. Of course there is nothing wrong with titled and untitled people marrying—as long as it is for love. If it is simply a business arrangement… Well, there are
better ways to get ahead in life than by selling a child.

  Yet this is where I am at. Father is determined to see me married, and very few members of the ton have agreed to have dinner with us. By now, everyone knows that the crippled second son of Lord Pembroke is seeking a wife, so any woman with options is avoiding our family like the plague while eager fortune- and title-hunters are nearly banging the door down.

  I sigh and glance at Alice, who raises an eyebrow at me. I’ve apologized profusely, and we’ve come to an accord, but she is far less patient with me than she had been. She’ll no longer tolerate my objections to marrying and is pushing me to make a decision before Father saddles me with a complete stranger.

  “So, what sort of things do you enjoy?” I ask Julia.

  “Oh, the usual ladylike pursuits, I suppose,” she says. “Embroidery, piano, reading poetry.”

  I nod. “What’s your favorite poem?”

  Her cheeks flush and she giggles as she puts her hand to her mouth. She glances at her father, who gives her a nod.

  “I enjoy Shakespeare’s sonnets, of course,” she says.

  “And which is your favorite?” I push.

  “Oh, I couldn’t choose,” she says. “They are all so lovely.”

  I suspect she doesn’t care a fig for Shakespeare’s sonnets. She’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear. A few years ago this knowledge wouldn’t have rattled me, and I might have even found it charming, but after meeting Lily, a girl who speaks her mind and has such a passion for something, I can hardly imagine a life with a girl as dull as Julia Davenport.

  “Then what is your favorite piano piece to play?” I ask.

  “There are just so many…”

  “What embroidery pattern are you working on?”

  “Umm…”

  Alice kicks me in my good leg under the table. I try not to make a face.

  “Those are all very accomplished talents,” Alice says. “You must make your parents very proud.”