Chapter Sixteen
The following morning Rachel sat in front of the large mirror as Leah ran a brush through her long, dark hair. Though Rachel had only been at Elford Estates for a few weeks, she felt that she had known Leah for years. The woman listened intently to everything Rachel had to say and had gone so far as to empathize with her situation on most occasions.
Madam Louvette had left very early in the morning with promises to return and check on Rachel’s progress and whether she was using what she had learned. “You have the skills, ma petite, and a quick study,” the woman had said with much more affection that she had ever shown during their lessons. “It is up to you to use those skills now.” Rachel had found the woman’s words touching, to say the least.
“When I mentioned honor and love,” Rachel was explaining of the previous evening, “he stood up and asked to leave. I do not understand that man. I swear, he changes every hour.” She gave a heavy sigh. Leah nodded silently as she secured another pin into Rachel’s hair, but her eyes flickered for a quick moment. “Are all men this way?” Leah nodded, though she continued to remain quiet, much quieter than was typical of her. “Leah, what is wrong? I feel as though you wish to say something but are withholding it.”
The woman halted her pinning and looked down at the floor. “I do want to say something, but I’m afraid of offending you, or the Earl. I don’t want to lose my position for speaking my mind.”
Rachel turned and took the woman’s hand in hers. “I consider you my friend,” she said, “and I hope you realize that you can trust me with your words. I would never repeat anything you say to me, just as I know you would not repeat what I have said. So please, tell me what is bothering you.”
Leah gave her a weak smile. “Thank you,” she said. “And I would never share what you tell me in confidence—ever.” She grabbed the brush and continued on Rachel’s hair as she spoke. “I began working here for Mr. Templeton nearly ten years ago. Around that time, Lord Linfield—that is, the current Lord Linfield—started coming to visit.” She glanced behind her, clearly afraid of being overheard.
“Do not worry; we are alone,” Rachel reassured the woman.
“You see, Lord Linfield was a lonely boy, devastated by the loss of his father and then pushed into his position as Earl. And then there was Lady Linfield, the Dowager Countess…”
Rachel remembered the rigidity of the woman who accompanied Lord Linfield and could only imagine what she had been like in those earlier days. “Go on.”
“She would sometimes come with Lord Linfield to visit, waiting in the drawing room while the servants, myself included, served her.” She shook her head. “She’d berate the young man at every turn, his smiles fading once he entered the room where she sat waiting. Later, when he was older and attended parties Mr. Templeton had, I’d hear the woman ridicule him—her own son!—for not having as much wealth as the other lords and ladies around him.”
“Did she really?” Rachel asked, finding this new bit of information shocking, but yet not all that surprising. The woman had been a beast when Rachel had met her.
“At first, he’d greet me with a smile and ask me how I was. But as time passed, he stopped talking to me and ignored me altogether.” Her eyes widened and she quickly added, “Not that I believe he should be required to take the time to notice a servant, of course.” Her cheeks had reddened significantly, but Rachel knew it was from the woman’s embarrassment that anyone should believe she had a romantic attraction to a man of the Earl’s standing.
Rachel considered Leah’s words, wondering about the man’s life and the anger he must have felt. “He told me that he was much too occupied to search for a wife. Do you believe that to be true?”
“I would not know firsthand, but I would not be surprised if it were true. Mr. Templeton spoke to Lord Linfield about the need to find a wife, though Lord Linfield only seemed to want to speak of work.”
What Leah said certainly gave Rachel a better understanding of the man and the situation before her.
The sound of an approaching carriage caught her attention. That would be the dance instructor. ; the drunken stumbles of the patrons at the pub and perhaps a few bawdy dances between couples whenever anyone came to play music. It had been many years since anyone had done that.
“One more thing,” Rachel said before Leah could leave. “Why does Lord Linfield allow his mother to treat her as harshly as she does? It makes no sense; he is his own man.”
Leah looked behind her again and then leaned in conspiratorially. “Servants hear many things, even when they believe their voices are hidden away behind closed doors or that the servants have no ears to hear. I, myself, heard Lord Linfield confide in Mr. Templeton that he has never met his mother’s approval and that it has always bothered him. I’d say he spends a good amount of his time trying to get her favor.”
Rachel was glad to have learned this new tidbit of information; it opened many doors of understanding for her. “Then I have a long battle ahead of me,” she said thoughtfully. “I believe there is a good person inside him, one that is simply lost and needs to escape.”
Leah nodded her agreement. “It won’t be easy, but if I can help, you know you can ask. I’ll do what I can.”
Rachel smiled and embraced the woman, although she knew Leah wished she would not do such things. However, she saw Leah as more than a servant, and she would treat her as she wished. She was the Mistress of the house now.
With a renewed spirit, she walked to the door with a determined step. If she was going to change for the better, then he would as well, whether he liked it or not.
***
Rachel wondered if her feet would ever be the same again, they ached so much. The dance instructor, a tall, thin man with a too little hair on his upper lip to be considered a mustache—although he thought it as such—was as thorough as Madam Louvette had been, and twice as austere. However, he carried himself with astounding grace, and his movements literally swept Rachel off her feet.
When Mr. Churley realized that Rachel had never received instruction in even the simplest of steps, his mortification could not have been more evident. “How is it a young lady such as yourself has never learned to dance?” he had said on more than one occasion. She had had no response without exposing her past, so she simply remained quiet, looking demurely at the floor, hoping the man would take pity on her.
However, that had not been the case. Rather than feeling sorry for a woman of her supposed position having been neglected in such a way, he took it upon himself to make up for what he termed as a “monumental failure” of her family. The drive he used in his lessons could only be compared to a horse being run through its paces until it was trained well enough to be ridden by even the most demure of women.
“Now,” Mr. Churley said, his voice an octave lower than his thinness would have implied, “from the top once again.” Rachel groaned, but the man ignored her. “And one, two, three. One, two, three,” he counted in time for her as she raised and lowered her arms as was required for the Cotillion they were currently practicing. It was not all too difficult, except when Rachel forgot to turn left when she meant to turn right.
“No, no, no!” he shouted at her again. “You must first step right, then left. I do not understand how this can be so difficult for you.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Churley,” Rachel replied, trying to keep her temper under control. “I sometimes forget, and we have yet to stop and sit. I ask only a few moments to rest my feet and I promise I will be a much better pupil.” It had been her first complaint since they began, and she thought she was more than reasonable in making her request.
Rather than be upset or angry, Mr. Churley became agitated. It was not until he spoke, however, that Rachel understood the reasoning behind his feelings. “I do apologize, Miss Cooper,” he said with a gasp. “You should have informed me sooner that you needed a moment’s repose. I am afraid I am so accustomed to spending hours on my feet that I forget not a
ll of my students have the same fortitude. Please, you may rest for as long as you feel is necessary.” The man seemed flustered beyond belief, and Rachel felt bad for her tone, which had been much sharper than she had intended.
“I only need a few minutes, Sir,” Rachel assured the man. “You have been a most apt teacher.” She had forgotten that the man saw her as a lady, despite her lack of instruction in the finer points in life.
The man beamed under the compliment and led her to a nearby chair.
“Would you be a dear and pull the chord, please, Mr. Churley?” Rachel asked. She realized that asking a guest to do such a thing was rude at best, Rachel could not get herself to walk even the short distance to perform the task herself. Her poor feet would have blisters for weeks once these lessons were completed.
“But of course, Miss Cooper,” Mr. Churley replied in an unruffled tone. He did as she bade and waited for Rachel to invite him to sit, which she almost forgot as he stood uncomfortably beside a high-back chair until she made the offer. How silly all these societal rules could be. Could a man not simply sit when he wished to? Or a woman for that matter?
“You rang, Miss?” Leah asked from the door to the ballroom.
“Yes. Would you please bring up a tray? And perhaps a few cakes would be nice, as well.”
Leah bobbed a quick curtsy and a hurried “Yes, Miss” and was soon on her way to do Rachel’s bidding.
“It is strange,” Mr. Churley said as he studied Rachel from his seat, “that a woman such as yourself, one who has clearly been raised with the most formal of training, never received training in dance.”
Although Rachel should have taken the man’s words as a great compliment given the fact that her training had only been over a few weeks, she found herself weary of his prying, for she was very much aware that she still a long way to go to be able to blend in completely with those of nobility. He made the same statement in different ways all too many times, and now that they were sitting, she might as well tell him something, anything, to halt his feeble attempts at garnishing information from her.
“I was raised in a very strict house, Sir,” she explained. “My mother believed that dancing was a sin and refused to allow us to learn. It is a sensitive subject, as I did not agree with her assessment of such a wonderful pastime, so I would ask that you not mention my lack of training again.”
Mr. Churley gave her a mortified look. “I do apologize, Miss Cooper, I meant no offense. I have heard of this…custom? And I can see how that could be difficult for you now that you are wishing to learn. I will not speak of it again.”
“I would also appreciate if you did not share this information with others. I must admit that my childhood was not as…pleasant…as others might have experienced. What I wish is to put my past behind me and look to the future.”
“But of course,” he said with a nod.
“And my dancing skills?” she asked when they both fell silent. “Is there any hope for me?”
The man laughed heartily. “There is always hope, and although I seem harsh in my manner, you are doing quite well for one who has been denied the opportunity to enjoy one of God’s greatest gifts to His people.”
Rachel doubted very highly that God deemed dancing as one of His greatest gifts, but she could see how Mr. Churley would believe so given his current position.
Leah came with a tray laden with a silver teapot and two porcelain cups. Once the tray was placed on the table between Rachel and the dance instructor, Rachel moved to the edge of her seat and expertly poured them each a cup. She had spent hours perfecting her pour and she knew that anyone would have thought she had poured tea in such a way all her life.
The Shrewsberry cakes that accompanied the tea were delicious and renewed Rachel’s energy; although, they did little to ease the aching of her feet. Fortunately, the short break was enough to make her ready to return to her lessons. If it had not been for the long hours she spent on her feet at the pub, she would have collapsed long ago, of that she was certain.
“Well, shall we be back to it,” Rachel said once they had finished their tea and cake.
“Yes, let’s,” replied Mr. Churley. He reached out his hand as if offering her a dance, and she took it. When she stood, she remembered to give him a slight nod to acknowledge his request and then followed him out to the floor. Although they had no music, Mr. Churley counted out the time and she attempted the moves once more.
It did not take long before the instructor stopped her once again with his “No, no, no!” and correcting her missteps. However, before the hour was gone, he bowed his head to her and said, “Miss Cooper, I believe you have achieved an acceptable amount of ability to perform a Cotillion as one who has been doing so for a decent amount of time.”
Rachel smiled at the compliment, glad the instruction was over. She was not sure if she could dance one more step.
However, when the instructor said “Now, for the Reel” Rachel groaned.
Chapter Seventeen
Several days had passed since Lord Linfield had been to dinner, and Rachel sat in the library alone, though she was not reading. Her attention had been drawn from the book on her lap to the ring on her finger, once attributed to the love of a father, but now a symbol of a woman spoken for, a sign of one soon to be wed.
Although no official announcement had been made as of yet of their engagement, Rachel had received more than one letter of congratulations. She knew the senders were merely curious of this woman the Earl would marry, for the nobility could be a gossipy bunch. She had not returned any of the letters, for Lord Linfield would have become angry if she had. At least that is what she told herself. In all reality, she had no interest in sharing the intimate details of her life with people she did not know. The fact the Earl, and the Dowager Countess for that matter, would look upon such actions with disappointment made the decision to not respond that much easier.
One reality struck her above all others concerning her upcoming nuptials. Once she was married, there would be no more freedom, no more chances to find work in a pub as she once had or to converse with people who were like her. Her heart felt a sting of sadness, albeit brief, as the thought of her previous life played out in her mind.
And yet, despite the pull based strictly on familiarity, she found her new life much more enjoyable. From learning how to sit and stand with perfect posture to proper dining skills, the tasks were both challenging and rewarding. In just a few short weeks, she had gone from mocking those of the upper class to enjoying becoming one of them. Leah had told her of the grand parties, balls, and dinners, of the gowns the ladies wore and the food and drink that were served, and it all appealed to Rachel in a surprising way.
Even with all of the promises of the grand life to come, it was the part of marrying Lord Linfield that made wanting those things less appealing. Rachel was unsure whether she should see him as a burr in her side or lace at her wrist. Warnings bells rang every time she thought of him, and his sudden change in demeanor, though pleasant on its face, was disconcerting when examined closely.
When Lord Linfield spoke of business, he was full of confidence and self-assuredness. However, when faced with familiar issues, most importantly his mother, his confidence lagged. It was not for Rachel to comment on how the Dowager Countess treated her son during their engagement; however, she worried that if his mother were to attack her again, which Rachel was certain would happen despite his promise, the man would say nothing in her defense, especially once they were wed and she had no way out.
Letting out a sigh, she sipped her tea and grimaced. She had been so lost in thought that her tea had grown cold. With all her hard work, and it had been difficult, much more so than she would have expected, she had found little time to reflect on her upcoming marriage except when she was alone. Thinking on something while alone could have adverse effects on one’s countenance. When kept busy with lessons meant for girls in finishing school or her dance instruction, she had no time to think of h
er life with Lord Linfield. One thing that returned to her moments of reverie time and time again was the woman who would soon be her mother-in-law. If the Dowager Countess spoke ill of her husband once he became her husband, Rachel could not, and would not, stand by in silence. Rachel was never one to back away from a difficult situation and she was not about to do so, Dowager Countess or no.
Why had she agreed to marry Lord Linfield? That question plagued her every night during her hours of deep thought. She certainly did not love him. Yet, despite the fact there were no deep feelings for him, she did feel a certain bond with him. Perhaps it was how he had rescued her that day in her parents’ pub when Jacob Down had tried to take her away. Or maybe it had to do with his willingness to apologize, as he had done at dinner that night earlier in the week. More than likely, however, it was the connection they shared through her father, Richard Templeton, that seemed to draw her to him. Whatever it was, she could not help but believe she should be on her guard until she was certain he truly was the man he presented to her the last time he had come calling.
“You find your ring more interesting than the book you are reading?” Rachel jumped at Lord Linfield’s voice. She had not even heard him arrive. However, she found herself smiling at him despite her earlier belief in guarding herself.
“I was just reflecting on…various topics,” she said as she stood. “It is good to see you, My Lord.”
“I said I would check on your progress,” he replied curtly as he walked over to one of the bookcases. Why he would sound cross, she did not know or understand. “And I am a man of my word.”
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