Olivia leaned behind her and turned the handle. It didn’t open. “Catherine, open this door. Open this door right this moment or I will have my coachman break it down.”
Olivia couldn’t fathom why Catherine was being so reclusive. They were close relations and common friends. Why wouldn’t Catherine see her? Especially as she had driven all that way.
The lock clicked and the door to Catherine’s bedchamber slowly opened.
Olivia turned to the woman still guarding the door. “If it is not too much trouble, could you spare a pot of tea, and perhaps one for my coachmen?” She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
Catherine stood at the window with her back to Olivia.
“Cathy, can you not even offer a greeting?” Olivia asked. “What is wrong with you?”
Catherine turned around, tears streaming down her face, her hands enfolded over her huge stomach.
Olivia leaned into the dresser. Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, dear God. Catherine was with child!
“I did not want anyone to know,” Catherine cried. “I feel so ashamed. And at my age!”
“I do not understand,” Olivia said. “Who is the father?” It couldn’t be…please, God, no.
“Henry,” Catherine said.
The room tilted. Olivia couldn’t breath. “Henry?” Olivia gasped. “Have you told him?” If Henry had known Catherine was pregnant with his child, he never would have left for Spain. He never would have asked for Olivia’s hand in marriage.
“No. I could not. I would not trap him.” Catherine eased her portly frame into a chair by the window.
“Trap him? Catherine, he must know. You may be carrying the heir to the Marquisate.”
“He does not wish to marry me. That is why I am here.” Catherine put her face into her hands and wept.
Olivia stood up and walked to the bed. “Cathy, what do you mean… he does not wish to marry you?” They were in love. Everyone knew it. The baby would be a blessing.
“He wants to marry you!” Catherine sobbed into a pillow.
Olivia settled herself onto the mattress before she fainted. “What?” Had she found out about their engagement already?
“I overheard him at your birthday dinner, talking to one of his friends. How at some point he would marry you, and reunite with the woman he had always loved. I watched you dance that night…” Catherine looked up through her tears. “I know the story of you and Dunbury. I could not stand in the way of your happiness. It would not have been fair to any of us, least of all the baby.”
“Oh, Cathy.” In that moment, Olivia saw her future life with Henry Wade, the Marquess of Dunbury slip away into another wistful forty-year dream. Catherine was going to deliver Henry an heir. Olivia had been around enough pregnant women to know the difference between a boy or girl – carry low, a boy will grow, carry high, a girl is nigh. There was no mistaking how low the baby hung on Catherine’s hips.
“How far along are you?” Olivia asked.
“The mid-wife thinks I shall deliver in late January or early February.”
“That is why you left Dunbury Manor,” Olivia said more to herself than Catherine. “You were about to show your gravidation to the girls.”
Catherine nodded. “I had kept my morning sickness hidden and I was lucky in that I did not start to show so early, but by Hallowmas I had let out every one of my gowns. I told the girls I was very ill, almost contagious. Although I was not going to die, it would be best if I left the manor. After I had gone, I wrote Dunbury to tell him we were over. I would no longer remain governess. He begged me to return.” Catherine paused. “I never answered him. I thought my silence was enough.”
Olivia wondered if she should tell Catherine about Henry’s departure for Spain.
“Cathy, there is something you need to know.”
Catherine looked up.
“Henry is gone,” Olivia said.
“Gone? Where?”
“To Spain. On a diplomatic mission for the Foreign Office.” Olivia stood up and paced in front of the bed. “He left two days ago.”
“When is he to return?”
“’Tis anyone’s guess.”
“Is it a dangerous mission?” Catherine’s eyes were as large as a robin’s egg.
“The Secretary assures me they will be extricated as soon as they are finished with their role in the operation.”
“They? Who is he with?”
Olivia’s eyes welled with tears. “I am not at liberty to say.”
“Livvy, are you all right?” Catherine asked. She stood from the chair and put her arms around her cousin.
“Yes,” Olivia mumbled. “I will be well. I am only concerned for you.” She stepped back and looked at Catherine. At two-and-forty she would make a lovely bride, and a wonderful mother.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Livvy, but I am well. I have old Mrs. Phipps to take care of me. And the mid-wife assures me the babe is healthy. I am only waiting until he, or she, wishes to arrive.”
Olivia choked back a sob. The one thing she had always wanted – a little girl – she would never have. Another wave of guilt over keeping Fitzhugh’s son away from him hit her. She had to return to London.
“I must away, Cathy. I only thought to bring you the news,” Olivia said absently and turned toward the door.
“Olivia, do not be silly. You cannot leave. You must stay the night. Rest the horses.”
Catherine was right. Olivia should stay. But how could she? Catherine represented everything Olivia would never have.
“No, Cathy, thank you. We shall be on the road. I must get back. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
“If you insist,” Catherine said. “Let me walk you out.”
Downstairs, Mrs. Phipps carried a tray of tea things toward the front parlour.
“Thank you, Phippy,” Catherine said. “Please tell Lady Olivia’s coachman she is ready to depart.” She turned to Olivia. “Are you sure you will not stay and have tea?”
“Thank you, darling, no. I must get back.” Olivia placed her hand on the door latch. “Oh, I almost forgot… if you should hear a rumor that Henry and I are to marry, disregard it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Catherine looked as if she had been struck.
“It seems old Gillyford has been up to his old tricks and begged Uncle Marlborough for my hand again. Henry happened to witness Gilly’s groveling one night and thought to put an end to it. He told Uncle, and the rest of the crowd, that he had asked for my hand and I accepted. I can assure you, there is no truth to the rumor. I believe he only did it as a favor to keep Gillyford from haranguing me. I was not even there when it happened.”
Catherine stared at Olivia. Olivia didn’t flinch.
“Livvy, please do not hate me. I could not bear it. I love him. I have loved him since he walked through the front door at Dunbury.” Catherine bowed her head and let her tears fall.
“Catherine, do not be foolish. Of course, I do not hate you. Henry would never have been happy with me anyway. He and I are too much alike.” Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Come Cathy, dry your eyes. Everything will be as it should be.”
Catherine grabbed Olivia’s arm. “Please, you will not say a word to anyone. I do not wish for Henry to hear of it first unless it is from my lips.”
“I will not say a word,” Olivia said.
Outside, the horses jangled their traces. The footman helped Olivia into the carriage. She waved good-bye to Catherine and as soon as they left the yard, Olivia burst into tears.
Henry was lost to her forever.
Chapter Eleven
Olivia arrived home late that night and although tired, packed more of her things. If she kept busy, she would not have to think about Catherine and Henry, or John, or Penny, or the baby, or any of it. Once the Boxing Day Ball was behind her, she could escape to her little house on St. Anne’s Court and mourn her losses in private.
A slow tear trickled down her cheek as she wrapped the trinkets she wou
ld take. It was unconscionably cruel of the fates to allow her to believe she would finally be united with Henry and then rip him from her. She could not blame this on Henry, nor Catherine. If Henry had truly wanted her, he could have waited for her to return from Wakefield. But that was foolish. No one knew where she had gone or whence she would return. And Catherine was a lovely woman. How could any man not look at her? Especially a man who had been at war for nearly forty years.
And perhaps the situation would be different if Catherine were not expecting. But then, the thought of Dunbury with no heir left her sick to her stomach. She could not deprive Henry of his heir the way she had Fitzhugh. And even if she wanted to try to have a baby, it was too late. She was too old. There was nothing she could offer him.
Perhaps it was just as well. In her deepest heart, she knew she could never have been as happy with Henry as she had been with John. John didn’t care about Society and all that it represented. John didn’t care that she could not have children. John had only wanted to love her.
Olivia threw the mantle clock she held in her hands across the room. It landed against a make-shift table that held several pieces of family china. Dishware trembled and then the table crashed to the floor, shards of broken china everywhere. Olivia burst into tears and flung herself on the sofa. She hugged the pillow Penny had embroidered for her when she was twelve.
Olivia could certainly empathize with what Penny was going through now with her suffering. And although Olivia conceded, losing a lover was not the same as losing a child, Olivia’s losses were greater in number, and the heartbreak carved from several different areas. Would the misery never end? It was as if God had decided to smite her all at once for the sins of her past.
“Your Grace?” Manning stood in the doorway in his nightclothes and boots, holding a fire poker.
“Mr. Manning.” Olivia grabbed an old shawl and wiped her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I heard a crash.”
Olivia sat up. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Pray forgive me. I could not sleep.”
Manning nodded. And then he asked, “Are you all right, Your Grace? Allow me to clean that mess for you.” He took a step into the room.
Her heart was broken in a thousand pieces just like the china. She sighed. “No, Mr. Manning, no thank you. I made the trouble, I shall clean it up.” Olivia looked at him, wishing he were John. “Forgive me, Mr. Manning, I am not well. However, I’m afraid there is no cure for what ails me except time. Please, do return to your bed. I’m sorry to have woken you.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” Manning nodded once and slipped from the room.
Olivia cleaned up the broken dishes and then worked until the last trunk was packed and it stood near the door of the sitting room ready to be loaded. Tomorrow she would finish with her bedroom.
Olivia crawled into bed just as the sun came up. She would gladly sleep the day away.
She woke at eleven.
Jennings stood at the foot of the bed. “Your Grace?” She gestured to the state of the room.
Assorted clothing, shoes, and hat-boxes crammed the corner. Two large trunks sat half-filled with lids open, in place of the table by the window. The open armoire held only four gowns. Shawls hung over the door. Her dresser drawers were empty.
“Forgive me, old girl,” Olivia said. “I did not mean to make chaos from your order, but I thought I would help. Help me to dress and then after a hearty breakfast, we will finish up in here.”
Jennings eyes grew wide, but said nothing and left the room.
Olivia sat up and smoothed her hand over the linen on the other side of the bed. Would John have heard about the engagement before he left? Or had he already left for Spain. She would never know until he came back. But what if he didn’t return?
Olivia was too exhausted to cry. How she would make it through her ball was anyone’s guess. She wished she could cancel it, but the invitations were already gone. Olivia had been planning it for months, wanting to make the grand announcement at mid-night, before they went in to supper that Penny’s baby would be the future heir to Caymore. But now there was no heir. Perhaps she could still acknowledge the title by saying Penny and William would now be living at Caymore as the Duke and Duchess. Yes, that sounded right. And then she could leave.
Yes, that was perfect. She would make the announcement and then depart. Caymore would be theirs.
Olivia climbed out of bed and splashed cold water on her face. If she removed all her things now, she needn’t return to Caymore for any excuse, other than an invitation. Penny and William would have the privacy they deserved.
Dressed in a simple calico, Olivia went downstairs. In the yellow salon, she looked around. She had taken all of her things out of the room and now it stood lifeless and depressing, as if no one had ever sat there. There had been no secrets, no kisses, no laughter shared within its walls.
Olivia walked over to the window that overlooked the garden. She had cultivated it for forty years. The roses were her pride and joy. And she would never be able to tend them again. She strode to the table fighting tears. She picked up the invitations for that evening. Family gatherings for Christmas Eve. There was no one she wanted to see.
She shook her head. She needed to remain focused on the job at hand – moving. She had no more time for silly blubbering. She went to the morning room, ate breakfast, and then sought Andrew.
“Please ask Hendricks to hitch the cart and the footman to gather the trunks outside my bedchamber. I would also like you and Nella to accompany me.” Olivia gathered her coat, bonnet, and gloves and went outside to supervise loading the wagon. When finished, Andrew drove the cart, and Hendricks the carriage with Jennings, Olivia, and Nella.
At the little house, the men off-loaded the larger trunks and the women took the smaller bags and were finished with the task in an hour. Olivia gathered everyone into the dining room.
“I have asked you to help me today because I have some news I’d like to share with you.” She looked at her servants. “I’m leaving Caymore House to Lord William and Lady Penny as they wait for a new heir. I am going to live here for the time being…until I find larger accommodation…and I would like all of you to stay here with me.”
Olivia smiled at their horrified expressions. “Hendricks and Andrew may share the attic, and Jennings and Nella the bedrooms. I realize it is not what we are used to, but it will only be of short duration.” Olivia hated to lie, she had no idea how long she would live there.
“Your Grace?” Andrew asked.
Olivia looked at him.
“What is my situation? I cannot be the under-butler as there is no butler over me, or shall I return to footman?”
“You shall become the butler, Andrew.” Olivia smiled. “With a few footman duties to keep you humble.”
Andrew smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Olivia looked at Hendricks. “I believe you will find the stables to your satisfaction. I thought to take the grays and the carriage we are in today. And perhaps a saddle horse if you like. I’m sure William will do what he wishes with the rest of the animals.”
Hendricks nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Now, I must ask you to keep this news to yourself. I am waiting to make the announcement at the ball and I do not wish for anyone to know what I am about. I am going to tell people I am traveling, that way they will not miss me when I am gone from Society. And the gossipmongers will have no story to tell.” Especially the one about her and Henry’s betrothal.
Her servants nodded.
“Very well, let us return to Caymore for a late luncheon. I should like to finish up the packing and have it all done by tonight if I could.”
In planning the ball, Olivia had decided to give the staff Christmas Day off, instead of Boxing Day, which they would normally have. Back then, Olivia had been assured of Christmas dinner with her family. The staff were leaving at ten on Christmas morning, and wouldn’t return u
ntil six that night. She would be alone. Somehow, it seemed a fitting end to her life at Caymore.
On Christmas morning, Jennings woke Olivia with a present.
“Jennings, this is glorious,” Olivia said, cradling a lovely lap blanket the color of ripe plums. She rose from the bed and walked to her now empty dresser. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. She turned to Jennings. “Happy Christmas, darling.”
“Oh, Your Grace, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, yes, I should. You have been as dear to me as my own mother. I hope you like it.”
Jennings opened the box and gasped. Wide-eyed, she looked at Olivia. “Your Grace. Is this what I think it is?”
“Yes. First class accommodation to the British Isles.” Olivia was pleased Jennings couldn’t speak. It was a wonderful surprise.
“Your Grace, truly. I do not know what to say.” Jennings looked at the tickets, and then at Olivia. “When do we leave?”
“Not we, dearest, you. I have another ticket for your sister. I thought, now you and she could take that much deserved holiday you always dreamed. I would have taken you years ago, but I cannot abide insects. Heaven knows what kind of creatures they have down there. Big as mice I would think.” Olivia walked over to the armoire and took out a plain day gown of blue silk. “And the climate would be horrible for my complexion. There is not enough lemon in the world to keep my skin from browning.” She reached for her stockings on the dresser. “I have made all the arrangements, and Quiggins made you a kit before he left, of all the essential items you will need while you’re there.” She stepped into the water closet and deposited her clothing, then returned to the bedroom where Jennings still gaped with tears in her eyes.
“Your Grace, this is too much.”
Olivia walked over to her maid and hugged her. “Jennings, you deserve this respite. I know you did not want to move to St. Anne’s Court. By the time you return from your trip, I will have finally moved into another, larger home, and all will be as it should be. Unless of course, you find another adventure you would rather have.”
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