Perhaps I should try and sell some of my old gowns, Marianne mused, or exchange them for some plainer, warmer ones. Certainly she would not need as many as once she had, even when they repaired to London for Diana’s Season.
At least then she would see Ellen again, and the thought warmed her. Settling down in her comfortable chair near the fire in her tiny parlour, she unfolded her letter and began to read.
“YOU LOOK REMARKABLY pleased with yourself, Aunt Marianne,” Arthur remarked as soon as she entered the parlour before dinner.
“I have received an invitation to visit my friend, Lady Havers,” Marianne said. “I have already advised her of Diana’s upcoming debut, and she proposes that I travel to Haverford to visit with her for a couple of weeks over Christmas and then accompany them on to London to rejoin you in time for the start of the Season.”
Arthur had been sipping on a glass of wine; he lowered it now and stared at her, his brow furrowing. “Why would you do that?” he asked, apparently genuinely befuddled.
“Visit with Lady Havers?” Confused in turn, Marianne stared back. “She is my friend, Arthur, and I am very much looking forward to seeing her again. Though we would see her in London, of course, I will be much tied up with Diana...”
“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I think there has been some misunderstanding, Aunt Marianne. You’re not coming to London.”
“What?” Marianne blinked, astonished.
Lavinia did not meet Marianne’s eyes when she spoke. “You have done us the very great service of writing letters of introduction to everyone we will need to know, but you need not accompany us yourself. Indeed, it would be much better for you to remain here with the other girls, focusing on their education and their futures.”
“Better for whom?” Marianne enquired, then nodded as enlightenment dawned. “Ah... for Diana, of course. You do not want me to be a distraction to any potential suitors, I daresay.”
“You flatter yourself.” Arthur’s expression turned puce. “You’re a penniless widow. What possible attraction could you have for the sort of gentlemen who would court an earl’s daughter?”
“I have never cared for false modesty,” Marianne informed him, “so I will merely say that even when I was an earl’s wife, there were never any shortage of gentlemen who should have been courting earls’ daughters who preferred to seek my company instead. Though I was never permitted to so much as smile in their direction, much less dance with them.”
She saw exactly how it was, and in truth, she could not blame Arthur and Lavinia. Diana was a pretty enough girl and pleasant-natured in a quiet way, but in a room with Marianne she would pale into the background, and they all knew it.
“Very well,” Marianne said after a few moments of taut silence. “If I am not to join you in London, so be it. May I at least visit with my friend beforehand and return here when they depart for London?”
“No,” Arthur said, and she knew he would not be moved. He stared at her, his lips thinned. “I will not permit it.”
“How fortunate, then, that you are not my husband, or my father or brother, and therefore are not in a position of authority to permit or deny me anything!” Marianne’s temper flared. She had thought she was done with being controlled by men when Creighton died. She would not tolerate it from a man not even related to her by blood!
“Perhaps not.” Arthur’s smile was unpleasant. “But I will certainly not permit your use of our carriage to travel, and as for money...”
“Arthur,” Lavinia said quietly. “Enough.”
It’s probably a good thing Lavinia stepped in, Marianne thought as she turned and stormed from the parlour, her fists clenched at her sides. If Arthur had said one more word about my complete lack of funds, I would have slapped him, and goodness knows where that would have ended.
In the hallway, she almost collided with Diana and her next-in-age sister Clarissa, who both jumped out of her way with startled gasps. She did not even stop to acknowledge them, striding straight back out through the side door she always used and down the short path to her cottage.
I’ve traded in one prison for another, she thought, stamping her feet as she strode back and forth in her small bedroom. She was still not free to live her life as she chose, and she very likely never would be.
BY THE FOLLOWING MORNING, her stomach was grumbling, but Marianne could not bring herself to go up to the house for breakfast and pretend nothing had happened the night prior. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, trying to find a way out of her dilemma and failing. It all came down to money: something of which she had none and no way to get any.
Even if she could find a position as a paid governess or companion, that would be better than working for free for Arthur and Lavinia. But who would hire her? It wasn’t as though she had any references. While there might be some rich merchant families who would hire her for the sheer novelty of having a countess work for them, she shied away from the notion. How would she even go about finding such a position, anyway? She had not the faintest idea how such things were done.
A knock at the front door surprised her, and she sighed and went to answer it. She had few visitors, and Lavinia never knocked.
It was a surprise to find Diana and Clarissa on the doorstep, both looking at her with worried eyes. Clarissa held out a small package wrapped in a linen napkin. “Good morning, Aunt Marianne. We - we thought you might be hungry.”
She was not too proud, Marianne discovered, to accept the offering. Inside there was a half loaf of fresh bread, a chunk of cheese, and several slices of ham. “Thank you,” she managed past a lump in her throat. “That’s very kind of you, girls. Would you like to come in?”
Neither of the girls had ever been inside the cottage, and they stepped in shyly, looking about with wide eyes. She gestured them into her tiny parlour, and they sat down together on the little couch, shoulders almost touching.
“Will you excuse me a moment?” She didn’t wait for their acquiescence before heading for the kitchen.
When she returned after gulping down a few mouthfuls of the bread, a chunk of cheese, and a slice of ham, she felt a great deal more composed. Taking her usual chair by the fire, she considered the sisters.
There was only a little more than a year between the two girls in age, Marianne knew, and they were very close. Clarissa had more than once expressed distress over Diana’s going to London for the upcoming Season, but Marianne had always assumed—incorrectly, she now realised—the whole family would be going. Clarissa being left behind would be upsetting for both girls, and not helpful for Diana’s nerves at all.
“Thank you for bringing me something to eat,” Marianne said finally when neither of the girls seemed inclined to break the silence. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Diana looked at Clarissa, and it was the younger of the sisters who spoke. “I want to go to London too, Aunt Marianne.”
“Of course you do,” Marianne said understandingly, “but I do not see what you think I can do about it.” Clarissa and Dana must have heard everything last night when they listened in the hallway as Arthur humiliated Marianne. It must be obvious to her exactly how little influence Marianne had.
“If you weren’t here, Mama and Papa would have to take us all.” Diana leaned forward. “If you went to visit Lady Havers, and then joined us in London. Or maybe stayed with the Havers there and just met up with us sometimes.”
“I know you both overheard the scene last night, Diana, so you already know it’s not a possibility.”
“What if you had the money to go, though?” Diana took something from the pocket of her dress. “We both think Papa is very mean to you, and after last night, it’s obvious he just wants to keep you here to be, well, a governess, and he’s too much of a skinflint even to pay you.”
Marianne bit her lip. She would not speak ill of Arthur to his daughters, but it seemed they saw him quite clearly all the same.
“Mama is generous with our
allowance, however, and we are not in the habit of spending it. I told Papa this morning I wanted to go to Durham tomorrow and purchase some trinkets before we go to London, and he said we could take the carriage and even gave me some more money.” Diana extended the purse she held. “It’s not nearly as much as you should have been paid, but we think it should be enough to buy tickets on stagecoaches and rooms at inns to sleep in along the way to Herefordshire”
Marianne hesitated. “Whose idea was this?”
“Mine,” Clarissa said firmly. Though she was the younger of the two, she was definitely the leader. “But we are both in agreement this is the right thing to do.”
Diana nodded in agreement and tried to press the purse into Marianne’s hand. “Please take it. Papa will not think twice of your accompanying us to Durham tomorrow to go shopping, and though you cannot take more than one bag...”
“I could not carry more than one anyway.” Coming to a decision, Marianne accepted the purse. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Come with me, if you will?”
Diana and Clarissa followed her up the narrow stairs to her bedroom and the second, smaller room beyond it which was meant for a maid. Without a maid of her own, however, Marianne used it for her wardrobe - all the beautiful dresses she no longer had occasion to wear were stored there.
“Oh,” Diana whispered, amazement on her face as she gazed at the colourful spectacle before her. “Oh, how spectacular!”
“Most of these are not suitable for a debutante, I’m afraid,” Marianne said regretfully, brushing her fingers over a wine-red silk gown with a gold lace overdress. “However, there are a few here in lighter colours, and you are very much the same size as me, Diana. They would require minimal alterations for you to wear.” Moving confidently among the hanging gowns, she selected one in palest rose, another in spring green with a tiny pink silk flower print, and a silver satin gown which she had never cared for but would look stunning with Diana’s dark brown hair and eyes.
“Here,” she heaped them into Diana’s arms before opening drawers in a dresser and gesturing to Clarissa. “You are not out yet, so I’m afraid none of the gowns would be suitable for you, but there are ribbons and lace aplenty here. Take whatever you wish; it is yours.”
“We can’t take your lovely things, Aunt Marianne,” Clarissa protested.
“Call it an exchange.” Marianne hefted the purse in her hands.
“What we gave you wouldn’t buy a single one of these gowns!” Diana exclaimed, trying to hand them back, but Marianne refused to accept.
“You are incorrect, my dear girls. You have given me my freedom. I cannot take these with me, and I would far rather have you wear them than let them moulder away here. Everything I leave behind is yours; I give it to you freely.”
Overcome, both girls pressed close to embrace her and thank her profusely, but Marianne knew they had given her the greater gift.
Chapter Five
Havers Hall, Herefordshire
Mid December, 1819
Five days later, Marianne walked slowly up the long tree-lined carriageway to Havers Hall, her bag weighing heavily on her weary arm. It had been a long, cold, exhausting trip from Creighton, and the last leg had been the worst; she had paid a farmer returning from Worcester to Haverford to give her a ride, but he had dropped her at the end of the carriageway with a remark in an accent so thick she hadn’t understood more than one word in two.
Two of the words had been ‘Havers Hall,’ though, and combined with his pointing finger and cheerful smile, she had taken it to mean the end of her journey was finally approaching.
A half-mile walk was the last thing she wanted, but she had little choice. Summoning the last of her internal fortitude, and praying Ellen and Thomas were at home, she trudged up the long gravelled way, almost too weary to appreciate the beautiful house coming into view.
Havers Hall was a large building of golden stone, which would have likely glowed in the sunshine on a summer’s day, but still managed to look magnificent even on a grey December day with rain clouds threatening. The closer she got, the more intimidating the house looked, and Marianne found herself nervous of her reception as she climbed the wide, shallow steps to the huge double doors at the main entryway.
Maybe they’ll tell me to go around the back, to the servants’ entrance, she thought with a small giggle to herself. She was wearing one of her plainest gowns, a dark grey wool practical for travelling but hardly glamorous.
The door opened promptly to her knock, and an imperious-looking butler inspected her from head to toe before saying, “May I assist you, madam?”
“Marianne, Lady Creighton.” She tried for her best imperious tone in return and must have achieved it in some measure at least, because the butler looked slightly surprised and immediately stepped aside to welcome her into the house.
“I do beg your pardon, my lady. I understood you were not expected for another week or so, but Lord and Lady Havers will undoubtedly be delighted to welcome you.”
“Thank you,” Marianne murmured, relieved.
“I am Allsopp, the butler. May I take your bag? The, ah, rest of your luggage?”
“Later, Allsopp,” she murmured, allowing him to slip the bag from her frozen fingers with a sense of relief.
He stepped aside with it and tugged on a bell cord, and moments later a footman entered the grand hallway. “Matthew, please advise her ladyship that her guest, Lady Creighton, has arrived ahead of schedule.”
The order became redundant a moment later, as Ellen, Lady Havers, descended the stairs, dressed in a blue gown one would think far too simple for a lady of her rank if one was not acquainted with Ellen herself. A smile came to Marianne’s weary face at the sight of her friend; it seemed Ellen had not changed in essentials even though she was now a countess.
“Marianne?” Ellen said disbelievingly.
I must look a fright, Marianne thought, pale, weary and dirty with road-dust. Ellen’s delight at seeing her was genuine, however, and she found herself drawn into a close embrace.
“Dear Marianne, you didn’t send word you’d be arriving early! In fact, we haven’t received any letter from you at all; I hoped you would accept the invitation... why, you’re shaking with cold! Come into the library, it’s lovely and warm in there. Have some hot tea sent in immediately, Allsopp, and whatever Cook can rustle up quickly to warm Lady Creighton, please.”
“At once, my lady,” Allsopp said to their backs as Ellen put her arm around Marianne and led her through a door into a beautiful library, light and airy, quite unlike the dark-panelled, musty room at Creighton Hall. A fire crackled merrily in the grate. Marianne soon found herself pressed to sit down in a comfortable chair, Ellen scooping up a shawl from the back of another chair close by and settling it around her shoulders.
“There, we’ll soon have you warm. I’m so glad to see you.”
Marianne felt quite ridiculous for being brought to tears by Ellen’s joyous welcome, but she could not prevent the fat drops which threatened to spill.
Perceptive and kind, Ellen saw her distress and immediately pressed a handkerchief into her hands. “Hush, now. You’re tired and overset. We’ll have some hot tea and you can tell me everything later.”
Grateful when Ellen didn’t press her, Marianne slowly regained her composure over tea and scones, warm from the oven and dripping with butter and jam. She took the time to survey her friend, thinking that marriage very clearly suited Ellen. The young countess fairly glowed, and though the cut of her gown was simple, Marianne noticed now the quality of the fabric and the delicate embroidery one shade darker than the fine wool which decorated the bodice. Her brown hair was beautifully curled and arranged, braids looping around her head in a coronet, while her changeable, sea-coloured eyes were bright with happiness.
Envy twisted in Marianne’s gut, and she looked down at her teacup, silently chiding herself. Ellen deserved her happiness. She’d lost her parents, her home, everything. If Thomas had
n’t inherited the earldom almost by sheer luck and fallen in love with his distant cousin, who knew what circumstances Ellen might have been reduced to? At least Marianne had never had to worry about having a roof over her head, even now.
“My housekeeper will have your suite aired and warm by now,” Ellen said as they finished their tea, “so let me take you up and you can refresh yourself. Will you come down to dinner tonight, or take a tray in your room? It is only Thomas and me at present, since our other guests aren’t expected to arrive until next week, but we should be delighted to have your company. And then, perhaps, you might wish to tell us what has you arriving on our doorstep in such a state, alone, with only one small bag?”
Ellen’s words were gentle, but they caused another surge of guilt in Marianne. “Yes,” she agreed, looking up to meet her friend’s kind smile. “Yes, I’d love to join you both for dinner, and I’ll tell you everything then.”
MARIANNE HAD BROUGHT one nice gown with her, a lavender silk which rolled up surprisingly small. The lady’s maid Ellen had sent to attend her pressed it while Marianne luxuriated in a copper tub filled with steaming water and aromatic soap, soaking off the grime of travel and allowing her strained nerves to unwind. She had barely slept since leaving Creighton, and the feeling of finally being safe and warm had her eyelids drooping with weariness.
“My lady,” the maid said quietly, “shall I rinse your hair, now? Else there will be too little time to dry it before dinner.”
“Yes, thank you,” Marianne said, pushing herself to sit forward a little reluctantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, earlier?”
“Jean, my lady.” She had good hands, gentle as she washed out Marianne’s long, wavy auburn hair and combed out the tangles, squeezing it firmly in a thick piece of linen to squeeze out as much water as possible before helping Marianne from the tub and swathing her in a beautiful silk dressing-gown which had certainly not been in Marianne’s small bag.
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