by Laura Beers
Harrington was outraged. “I demand to know who said such horrific things to you!”
Walking over to a birch tree, she rested her back against the trunk. “Do not concern yourself. It was just a bit more than I had anticipated. The conversation centered around the subject of American sailors being impressed to man British ships during these wars with Napoleon.”
“It is Britain’s right to search for deserters. Besides, it is the Americans that are wrong for employing our seamen when the Royal Navy needs them to man our warships.”
Her hands grew animated while saying, “The Royal Navy may claim they are searching for deserters, but they impress Americans at their whim.”
“And what say you about America attempting to trade with France illegally?” he asked, his voice becoming strained.
Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, looking reluctant to speak her mind, which was a first. “I do not care to express my opinion on the matter, my lord.”
Being mindful of his previous conversation with his friend, Wessex, he cautiously pressed, “Miss Wright, forgive me, but I must ask. Are you an enemy of the Crown?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and the color instantly drained from her face. “Of course not!” she answered fiercely, pushing away from the tree. “Some of the fondest memories of my youth are of my visits to England. In fact, my mother was born and raised here.”
Harrington propped his boot on a tree stump and leaned forward till his arm rested on his knee. “For a woman, you seem to be remarkably informed about the American skirmish.”
“Do I?” she laughed, fanning herself nervously.
As she started to walk past him, he dropped his foot and stood in front of her. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Miss Wright?”
She gave him a puzzled look, taking a step back. “Why would you ask me that… my lord?”
Instead of letting her retreat, the earl took a commanding step towards her. “Because if you are,” he stopped, looking deep into her eyes, “I can help you.”
Her gaze seemed to penetrate his very soul. “I thank you for your kind offer, but I am not in any trouble. That I know of,” she amended hastily.
Harrington prided himself on being a gentleman, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from raising his hand and gently running his fingers across her lovely cheeks.
“My offer stands,” he said softly.
Amelia closed her eyes and blushed at his touch, drawing his attention to her dark lashes as they fanned her face. When her eyes opened, he detected vulnerability in them.
“Why would you offer to help me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He gave her a roguish smile. “Because…” He searched his feelings. He couldn’t tell her the real reason, not yet. It was much too soon. Truth be told, he had no idea what his intentions were.
With great reluctance, the earl lowered his hand and stepped back. Despite showing incredible control over his impulses, he was still not ready to say goodbye to Miss Wright. “If you are not enjoying yourself at the picnic, perhaps you would be inclined to join Marian and me for a game of, what did you call it, ‘hide and go seek’ at my estate.”
Relief was evident on her face as she smiled. “I would like that very much, thank you. Let me go tell Aunt Nellie.”
Chapter 7
“Thank you for the invitation to dine with you this evening,” Amelia said, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. Lord Harrington sat at the head of the long table with Marian on his left and Amelia on his right.
Picking up his glass of wine, Lord Harrington took a sip before saying, “After your exertions entertaining my daughter this afternoon, it is our pleasure.”
“This is the first time I have dined in this room!” Marian’s excitement bubbled out and touched the hearts of both adults. “Father said it was a special occasion, so I’m to be on my best behavior.”
Reaching for a fork, Amelia’s hand stilled. “You don’t eat dinner together as a family?”
After taking a bite of food, Lord Harrington swallowed before answering, “In England, children typically eat in the nursery, since they have not acquired the social etiquette to eat with the adults.”
“I see,” Amelia murmured, completely baffled by that logic. “And who teaches them the social etiquette that is required?”
Lord Harrington smiled at Marian. “A governess, of course.” He shifted his gaze back to her. “Picking the right governess is of paramount importance. Not only is the governess responsible for implementing lessons during the day, with an emphasis on Latin and Greek, but they also teach them the social graces required.”
As she reached for her glass, Amelia asked, “Then what is your role?”
“Generally, fathers do not take active roles in the lives of their children.” Lord Harrington’s tone was matter-of-fact as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a white linen napkin. “We have an estate to run.”
“And the mother’s role?” she pressed.
Lowering the linen napkin back to his lap, Lord Harrington’s eyes turned sorrowful. “It depends. Some mothers rely solely on nannies and governesses to rear their children, but Marian’s mother would have been actively involved with her, I’m sure.”
Amelia turned her gaze towards Marian and saw her eyes staring at her plate, her expression sad. “Can you tell me about her?” she asked Lord Harrington.
He pressed his lips together. “Why would you want to hear about Agnes?”
“Because Agnes was Marian’s mother, and I want to learn about the remarkable woman that she was,” she admitted honestly.
“What exactly do you want to know?” His words were cautious.
Amelia gave him an encouraging smile. “How did you meet?”
“At a country dance,” he answered wistfully. “She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and it took all my nerve to ask her to dance.”
“Was it love at first sight?” she asked.
He nodded. “It was. Agnes was undoubtedly beautiful, but it was the way her eyes lit up when she smiled that beguiled me.”
Amelia smiled as a footman came to clear her plate. “She sounds wonderful.”
“She truly was.” Lord Harrington’s eyes grew reflective as he stared at his glass. “Agnes was kind-hearted and was constantly helping the people in the village.”
“What a great legacy she left behind; not only was she a loving wife, but she loved serving other people,” Amelia declared.
Sitting taller in her seat, Marian bobbed her head. “I want to be just like my mother when I grow up.”
Lord Harrington reached over and patted his daughter’s arm. “You are like her in so many ways. Your mother would be so proud to see the young woman you have become.”
Marian beamed. “Truly, Father?”
“I am certain of it,” he replied as he slid his arm back. He turned his gaze back towards Miss Wright. “Is rearing children so different in America?”
“I cannot speak for other families,” Amelia hesitated, “but I was raised with both my parents being very active in my life.”
“Did you have a governess?” Marian asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I did have a nanny when I was young.”
“Were you sent away to boarding school, then?” Lord Harrington asked as a footman placed a dessert plate in front of him.
“I went to school during the day, but I came home in the afternoon,” she said as a plate was placed in front of her, and she reached for her fork.
Lord Harrington gave her an understanding smile. “To further your lessons with a tutor?”
“Yes, in a way,” she replied, returning his smile. “My father would give me mathematical equations to solve at his desk while he worked.”
Harrington frowned, glancing at his daughter. “Was your father a professor?”
She took a bite of the pie and considered her next words carefully. “No, my father was a highly specialized doctor.”
“What do you mean by ‘a highly specialized doctor’?” Lord Harrington asked.
Amelia scrunched her nose. That was a misstep! “It means that he focused on conditions such as back pain, arthritis, and stiff muscles,” she answered as vaguely as possible. “My father also performed surgeries to correct these issues.”
“In England, physicians are regarded as gentlemen because of their schooling and lack of apprenticeship. Whereas, surgeons are considered more of a trade, because of their apprenticeship,” Lord Harrington revealed. “Was your father a physician or a surgeon?”
“Both,” she answered honestly.
Lord Harrington frowned. “I’m not sure why you would waste your time solving mathematical equations at your father’s side. Don’t you suppose that a better use of your time would be to focus on more ladylike pursuits?”
Rather than take offense, Amelia replied, “By ladylike pursuits, are you referring to embroidery, pianoforte, and making house calls?”
“Exactly.” He smiled at her as he reached for his glass.
With a schooled expression, she stated, “I would much rather be with my father in the operating room than sipping tea and embroidering handkerchiefs.”
Lord Harrington had just taken a sip of his drink and started choking at her remarks. A footman stepped up to see if he needed assistance, but he waved him off. After a moment, he turned his unrelenting stare at her.
“Tell me you are not in earnest, Miss Wright.”
She shrugged. “But I am, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed as he continued to watch her. “You are the most singular woman I have ever met.”
“Thank you,” Amelia responded, smiling.
“That was not meant as a compliment.”
“I know,” she answered, winking at Marian.
Lord Harrington huffed his disapproval. “I am of the belief that you need to be tutored in social etiquette.”
She smirked, curious how this was going to play out. “Do you now?”
“Yes,” he said. “Since you are helping me find a governess for my daughter, I would like to offer my humble services.”
“To clarify,” Amelia began, “you wish to tutor me on how to be a proper lady.”
“Yes.”
Amelia lifted her brow, feeling amused. “And how is it that you know so much about being a lady?”
Marian giggled as she continued to eat her dessert.
Lord Harrington took his linen napkin and tossed it onto the table. “That is precisely my point. A lady should always defer to a man.”
Lifting her chin defiantly, Amelia stated, “I will defer to no man, Lord Harrington. After all, I am of the mindset that men and women are equal.”
“That is American rhetoric,” Lord Harrington proclaimed. “In England, men are responsible for the women under their care. Women cannot possibly understand the complexities that come with running an estate and must be sheltered from those burdens.”
Amelia laughed dryly. “And what do you think of female doctors?”
“Women have delicate constitutions and would not be able to handle the vigorous workload of a physician. Furthermore, for a woman to display knowledge of the medical field is thoroughly unfeminine,” he informed her. He pursed his lips before continuing, “However, I have met a few women that are decent midwives.”
“And with that primeval comment, I think I should depart for the evening.” Amelia rose from her seat, and a footman immediately stepped forward to pull the chair out.
Lord Harrington rose as well. “I thought this might be a good time to go over the stacks of correspondences for the position of Marian’s governess.”
Amelia glanced at the window and saw the sun was starting to set. “I should really be going back. I wouldn’t want Aunt Nellie to worry.”
“I will send over a missive to inform Aunt Nellie of your late departure,” he said, offering his arm to her.
Marian placed her hand in hers. “Please stay, Miss Wright.”
Knowing she was in a losing battle, Amelia placed her other hand on top of Lord Harrington’s arm. “I will stay only because I want to find the best governess for Marian,” she explained as she was escorted down the hall.
Once they entered Lord Harrington’s study, Amelia removed her hand from his arm.
He retrieved a stack of papers from his desk and extended them towards her. “These are all the correspondences for the governess position.”
Amelia accepted the papers and joined Marian on a settee in the corner. After they were situated, she started reading the beautifully-crafted letters while Marian leaned up against her.
“Why are you frowning?” Lord Harrington asked.
“Am I?” Amelia responded, looking up to see him sitting in a well-oiled, leather, wing-back chair behind his desk.
He grinned. “You are.”
Lowering the papers to her lap, she replied, “Do you not intend to educate Lady Marian?”
“I have every intention of educating Marian, hence my need for a capable governess.”
“No, you are a hiring a woman to…” Her voice trailed off as she picked up one of the letters and read, “help shape Lady Marian into a morally sound, docile, fashionable young woman ready to play by society’s rules.”
Lord Harrington crossed his arms. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the issue.”
“Interesting,” she mumbled, lifting her brow in disbelief. “If I understand correctly, Marian’s daily lessons will include learning Latin and Greek, the social graces required of her class, becoming competent in multiple musical instruments, practicing embroidery, and learning the skills to make a good match.”
“That sounds accurate,” Lord Harrington confirmed.
“What are the boys expected to learn?”
“Philosophy, logic, arithmetic, French, Italian, Latin, physics, and so on,” he explained.
Looking at Marian, Amelia asked, “Do you not think it is important to teach your own daughter these subjects?”
“I have heard of some progressive parents teaching their daughters alongside their sons at home, but that would serve only as a disadvantage to Marian.”
“And why would that be?”
Lord Harrington shifted his gaze towards his daughter. “Because if I did allow Marian to be well-educated, she would be forced to hide her intellectual prowess from the world or risk being shunned by society. Thus…”
“Thus, preventing her from obtaining an advantageous marriage,” Amelia said, finishing his thought. Even though she thought it was an idiotic premise, she had no right to criticize their culture, especially since she was only visiting for a brief time.
“If I may be so bold,” Lord Harrington began, “what attributes would you look for in a governess?”
A mischievous smile came to her lips. “I would want a governess that could fly.”
Marian giggled. “No one can fly.”
“Or perhaps a governess that could speak to animals?”
“Do be serious, Miss Wright,” Lord Harrington contended.
Before she could reply, she heard a commotion coming from the main entry. Frowning at Harrington as she rose, she joined him to investigate the noise. She saw a group of maids huddled around Mr. Blake, and one had tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked, approaching the crying maid.
The maid curtsied. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Miss.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “How can I help you?”
With a trembling lip, the maid explained, “My sister’s water broke yesterday shortly after sunrise, but the baby’s head isn’t down, and she is too exhausted to push the baby out.”
Amelia’s heart sank at those words. “Is a doctor with your sister?”
She shook her head. “No, Miss. Mrs. Watts, the midwife, is with her.”
“Can you take me to her?” Amelia asked, knowing that she needed to act now or risk losing both the mother and the bab
y.
“I can. Do you think you will be able to help her?” the maid questioned between shaky breaths, nervously glancing over her shoulder.
Amelia followed the girl’s gaze to see Lord Harrington standing in the hall watching them closely. His expression was stern, but she saw great compassion in his eyes. “I need your carriage at once, my lord,” she demanded.
Harrington’s next words were spoken with concern. “Miss Wright, it is best if you don’t get involved. There is nothing you can do to help that poor woman.”
“I have no doubt that I can help,” she answered firmly. “I’m… a surgeon.”
The coachman urged the team as fast as he dared through the darkening night, while Lord Harrington kept glancing at Amelia. She sat tensely on the bench beside him, holding onto the side of the carriage as they raced towards the village.
“Thank you, my lord. You didn’t have to come.”
“Nonsense, Miss Wright. It would never have done for me to allow my guest to go out into the night on an errand of mercy while I remained at home.” The earl dismissed her comment with an impatient wave. As if to underscore his remark, loud sobs could be heard from the distraught young maid who hung on for dear life beside the driver.
The horses’ hooves pounded on the deeply rutted dirt road, keeping time with Amelia’s racing heart.
“If you please, turn down that road to the left,” the young girl directed.
The coachman veered the carriage towards the road as the earl attempted to reason with Miss Wright again.
“This is ludicrous. Are you so cruel as to give this woman false hope?”
Amelia turned towards him with a determined gleam in her eye. “I do not expect you to understand, but I have the skills and mindset to save that woman.”
He scoffed. “What are you going to do? Push the baby out yourself?”
“No, but there is another way.”
“Women die from childbirth every day,” he proclaimed crossly, eliciting another sob from the maid in the front. “That is just a fact.”
“I don’t have to accept that.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Do tell me, Miss Wright, why are you so obstinate?”
