by Rose Gordon
Not wanting to speak to any of them at the moment, he turned and walked away.
There was someone he did need to see at the moment, and now it was time to go find him.
Chapter 25
Brooke would always wonder how she made it back to her room. Her eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill, but somehow didn’t flow until she reached her bedchamber and closed the door tightly behind her.
She wearily made her way to her bed and threw herself down on top of the counterpane. How had her life come to this? One minute she was being held and caressed by a gentle and loving Andrew, then not ten minutes later, he was rejecting her as his wife. All the while, everyone in the house thought she was a fallen woman.
Going back home seemed the only option she had left. She could start over without this hanging over her head. It was clear that if she stayed, Andrew had no intention to marry her, and nobody else would want to marry her if they knew about this. Which, of course, they would. Oh, why did that dreadful woman have to show up? Why could she not have come five minutes later, when Brooke’s gown was buttoned and hair was up? And why on earth did Lady Algen of all people have an interest in astronomy?
How would she explain this to her sisters? How would she face Papa and Mama tomorrow, bearing the shame of them thinking of her as a shameless wanton? Would they ever forgive her this, or would they hold her in contempt?
Way too many thoughts and questions flooded her head before she fell into a dreamless slumber.
Brooke awoke the following morning to a loud voice outside her door.
“Move out of my way,” a voice that sounded like Andrew’s boomed.
“No.” That voice she recognized as Mama’s.
“You’ve done enough. If you think I’m going let you in there for one final romp, you are greatly mistaken, young man,” Papa yelled.
“Have a care for your daughter and keep your voice down,” Andrew said tightly.
“Why, all of a sudden, do you have such interest in our daughter?” Papa demanded.
“Because she is to be my countess, and I will not allow any gossip spread about her,” Andrew stated as if he were reciting a well-known fact.
Mama squealed with delight and Papa mumbled something inaudible—knowing Papa, it probably was one of his ridiculous curse-like phrases he’d coined to say in times of great frustration. Brooke had little doubt, this was one of those moments.
“Now that you know my intentions, please step aside,” Andrew said.
Brooke froze. Was he going to come in her room now? She was still wearing her gown from last night. Her hair was a rat’s nest. She wouldn’t be surprised in the least if there really was a rodent in it at this point. She was sure without having to look in a mirror that her face was not a picture of beauty, with her skin all red and eyes puffy from crying. She was not presentable, especially for her potential groom.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her potential groom. Just last night he didn’t want to marry her and now he did. Why? What changed?
That thought brought her back from her daydream. Why was he really here?
Heedless to her scary appearance, she walked to the door and swung it open. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Four sets of eyes locked on her haphazard form. Mama gasped when she saw her and quickly tried to cover it up with a cough. Papa’s mouth dropped open, then he closed it with an audible snap as his teeth met. Her eyes met with Andrew’s. His eyes held a hint of humor, but he merely raised an eyebrow at her. Then she heard a slight cough and jerked her gaze over to the right, and was greeted by the sight of Mr. Grimes. “Perhaps this conversation should wait? Will you be….er…presentable within a half hour?” he asked quietly, not meeting her eyes.
“Yes,” Brooke answered shyly, then closed her door.
After she shut the door, she attempted to take her gown off as quickly as she could. She thought to ring for a bath, but quickly dismissed the idea because she had only a half hour to be dressed and downstairs. That only gave her time to change gowns and try to pick out as many twigs from her hair as she possibly could just to get it up in her coiffure again.
She had successfully removed her gown and was looking for another when Mama let herself in.
“You’ll need to wear something very special for your engagement,” she exclaimed.
Peeking around the corner of her wardrobe, Brooke took in her Mama’s face. She looked so happy. “Why are you so happy?” she asked.
“Because my daughter is going to be married, without delay I expect, to a gentleman of rank. And you must admit he’s rather good looking.”
Brooke shrugged. Andrew wasn’t that good looking. By no means was he ugly, but she still stuck to her original opinion. He was not the dashing knight that young girls dreamed of, but to some women he would be considered handsome. She fell firmly in that category.
“Who cares about his rank? He’s only marrying me because he feels it’s his duty. He doesn't want to marry me,” she said dully.
“That’s not true,” Mama protested. “I’ve seen the way you two are together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those secret smiles and looks exchanged between the two of you.”
Brooke blushed. Was she so obvious? “All right, I admit it. I have feelings for him. But I don’t think he returns them.”
“They'll come,” Mama assured her. “Does it matter so much if he doesn’t feel as strongly for you as you do for him? He will, and in the meantime, think of the wonderful life you will live. You will have one of the top positions in society and will be invited everywhere. The scandal surrounding your wedding will pass in time. I know some harsh things were said and done last night, but the truth is, returning home isn’t really an option. You know that. ”
“I suppose you’re right,” Brooke conceded, taking out an ice blue gown from her wardrobe.
“That is truly beautiful,” Mama said, helping her put it on. Mama quickly took charge of fastening the buttons on the back. “Brooke, I don’t know how to approach this, but we may not have any other time alone.”
“Yes?”
“Last night, did you…did the earl…umm…do you need me to explain anything?” Mama stammered in an uneasy voice.
“No, I don’t think so,” Brooke replied, absolutely uncertain what on earth Mama was speaking of. Looking in her mirror, Brooke caught sight of a strange look that passed over Mama’s face. Before she could determine what it meant, it was gone.
“In that case, I guess my day just got a little easier.” She flashed a bright smile. “Now about this mess,” she said, trying to bring a brush through Brooke’s tangled hair.
It took a quarter of an hour longer than anticipated for Brooke to be presentable. Walking down to where the men were waiting in the library, Brooke was a bundle of nerves. She wanted to marry Andrew. She’d decided several days ago that if he were to propose, she would accept. But under the circumstances, she wanted to ask a few questions first. The first of which would be why he wanted to marry her. Was it duty? Honor? Had he been pressured into it? Or did he truly care for her?
Upon entering the library, Brooke took in Andrew’s state of disarray. He was wet. Soaked to be exact. And where he was standing, a puddle had formed on the carpet. A quick glance out the window behind him told her it was storming outside. When had he gone outside? Not only was he wet, his hair looked like a windstorm had blown it about. His clothes were dirty, and ironically the same ones he’d worn the night before. A little giggle escaped her at the thought.
In response to her giggle, Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that everyone was so horrified over my splendid ensemble earlier but no one, myself included, noticed yours,” she said, gesturing to his torn clothes, messy hair, and wet body.
“Indeed, you are correct. They were so intent to stop me from seeing you that they said naught about how I was dressed. I would have changed when you did, but I find my belongings have mysteriously
disappeared from my room.”
Papa let out an uncomfortable cough and patted his chest. “Excuse me.”
“Shall I translate that for you?” Brooke asked Andrew. “That’s what Papa does when he gets uncomfortable, typically because he’s just been caught after he did something wrong. I would wager, if I were the kind of woman who wagers, that your belongings have probably been burned.”
“Burned?” Andrew said hollowly. The look on his face indicated he sorely hoped she was jesting.
“No, not burned,” Papa interrupted. “You will find all of your things when you get back to London. I exercised what little power I have in England and I asked my brother, the baron and your host, to please have your things removed post haste.”
“I see,” Andrew said, though he looked like he didn't see at all.
“That’s immaterial. What do you have to say to Brooke?” Papa said harshly.
Andrew came forward and dropped to one knee right there before everyone in the room. “Brooke, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Brooke looked into his eyes. During their brief association, she'd come to be able to read him just by looking in his eyes. He didn’t laugh or smile as much as she did, but his eyes changed colors and looked brighter when he was amused or thought something humorous. She had seen them darken on a few occasions, indicating what she thought to be desire. She’d also seen them look hard as steel when he was upset or determined, like last night. How they looked currently was the only mood she couldn’t read. They were impassive. Showing neither happiness nor sadness, neither desire nor determination. Nothing. She had seen this look but a handful of times, like when they first met or when they first arrived at the museum.
“Why?”
“I think it should be obvious. I have a need for a wife and you have a need for a husband. Certain circumstances have come up which make it convenient that we make a match.”
Those weren’t the words of love she so dearly longed to hear, but what he said was true. They both required a spouse, and after this, she would be very unlikely to find one. She sighed. At least he had only said, “circumstances which make it convenient” rather than coming out and saying he felt honor bound, or it was his duty, either for causing her ruination, or for him to produce an heir.
“All right, I'll be your wife,” Brooke said with a tight smile.
Andrew quickly rose to his feet and waved to Mr. Grimes in the corner. “Paul, are you ready?”
“Indeed, my lord.” Mr. Grimes walked over to where Brooke and Andrew stood in the drawing room.
“What’s going on?” Brooke asked Andrew.
“Our wedding,” he said, then reached in his breast pocket and removed a wet special license from his pocket.
“Right now?” she asked, shocked. “But why here, why now?”
“I thought it would be best to marry quietly and depart the house party this morning, in order to put a stop to the gossip.”
He was right of course. “Can we ask my sisters to join us?” she asked nervously.
“You’re quite right,” Papa said before anyone else could speak.
Within moments Madison, Liberty, Alex, Edward, and Regina were summoned to bear witness to their ceremony.
All too quickly it was over—she was married and being hastily escorted out of the room by her husband.
On their way out the door, they were almost run over by Mr. Grimes, who was walking as fast as his legs could carry him—probably trying to get away from Liberty, Brooke thought with a wry smile. A lot of people didn’t understand Liberty, that was for sure, but she had never seen anyone with such a strong case of dislike for her. It almost rivaled Liberty’s own dislike for him. Almost, but not quite.
Outside, Andrew’s carriage was waiting to take them away. Brooke climbed inside and waved goodbye to her family as they rolled down the road.
“Where are we going?” Brooke asked after a while.
“Rockhurst,” Andrew said simply.
Judging by how Andrew was sitting, Brooke assumed he was in no mood for conversation. She wondered why that was. They had just gotten married, and prior to that he was in a good mood. What had changed?
She looked in his eyes. They looked distant, lost, almost cold even. Did he regret marrying her only fifteen minutes after they said their vows? Did this mean he had only gone through with it because of honor?
Right then and there, Brooke decided she was going to make him happy and come to love her. No matter what she had to do to change his feelings for her, she would do it.
It took an hour to get to Rockhurst. When they rolled up, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped a little. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s the seat of the earldom, so of course it has to be well kept and attended properly,” he said bitterly.
Paying him no mind, Brooke continued to ogle the estate. It was huge. In the middle was a large house that was three stories. It was made of a heavily textured, dark brown brick. The windows on the upper two floors were tall and slim, the ones on the bottom floor were huge, but there were only a few. “It looks medieval, like a castle,” she said without thinking.
“At one time it was. There have been many renovations over the generations, but some of the original castle still stands. That’s why the windows on the upper floors are tall and slim. Archers would stand there and fire out.” He offered no further information.
Brooke looked out in amazement. It must have been a great adventure to grow up here.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt and Brooke was nearly thrown from her seat. Andrew’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her regain her seat.
“Yes.”
As soon as she readjusted herself, the carriage door swung open and a footman let the stairs down for them.
Andrew climbed down and reached up to help Brooke descend from the carriage. She took his arm and together they walked toward the house where two servants were assembled to greet them.
“This is my wife, the new countess, your new mistress,” he said unceremoniously and gestured to Brooke. “These are my servants,” he said with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Then he led her to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Cleansweep, I trust you can show her around. I’m off to bed. When you’re done, you can show her to the countess’s rooms.” He shifted his gaze to Brooke. “I’ll join you for dinner.”
On his way inside the house, a tall manservant dressed impeccably in solid black, whispered something to Andrew. Brooke strained to hear what he said, but the only word she picked up was: friend. Andrew’s face grew dark during the conversation. Whoever they were speaking about was not just a casual friend such as Alex, but probably his mistress.
She felt like she was going to faint. Of course he had a mistress; all men save Papa had one. She tried to strengthen her resolve and gave the housekeeper a tight smile, hoping it would not be too transparent, while in the back of her mind she vowed she would get rid of this mistress—immediately. She couldn’t demand it of him, but she could beguile him enough he’d dismiss her on his own.
“Mrs. Cleansweep, I would like very much for you to show me around. I fear I'd get lost if I had to navigate it on my own.”
Mrs. Cleansweep quickly introduced her to the other servants. There was Rawlings, who worked as the coachman and did outside footman duties. Next was Stevens, who acted as the butler and did inside footman duties. Mrs. Cleansweep explained that she was the housekeeper and cook.
They took a tour of the house, stopping in all the common rooms to look around. The house was amazing. When at last they had reached the far end of the eastern wing of the second floor Mrs. Cleansweep opened the door. “This is your room. I do apologize it has not been aired for some time. I was not expecting his lordship to marry, and it has been a while since the dowager countess used this room.”
Brooke walked in and looked around. The room was a little stuffy, just as she had expected. She saw it
had recently been dusted, probably this morning, and the windows were opened as far as they could go to allow the room to ventilate.
In the middle there was a large four-poster bed. Brooke ran her hand up one of the posts and sat on the feather mattress. On one side of the bed there was a small night table that held a lamp stand with three candles in it. There was a little drawer in the side of table. Brooke pulled it open to reveal two books that must have belonged to the dowager countess. She coughed from the dust and slid the drawer back into place.
In the corner was a large wardrobe made of a beautiful, dark wood that matched the bed. Next to it was a vanity table that had a water basin and pitcher. The vanity was large enough to display her brushes and combs, and toward the back of it was a small, round mirror. To the side of the vanity table was a full sized standing mirror with a hairline crack going down the length of the glass.
She glanced to the other side of bed. A small writing desk positioned beneath one of the windows. She walked away from the mirror and went to the door in the middle of the wall.
When she put her hand on the doorknob, Mrs. Cleansweep cleared her throat. Brooke’s gaze shot to hers and Mrs. Cleansweep said bluntly, “That’s the connecting door to the master’s room. I imagine he’ll come through it soon enough.”
Brooke blushed before removing her hand from the door.
“If there is nothing else, my lady, I need to be about my duties,” Mrs. Cleansweep said.
“Just one question.” Brooke walked to the desk across the room. When she reached the desk, she pulled out a stack of yellowed paper and eyed it curiously. “How long has it been since this room was last occupied?”
“Nearly thirty years ago, but for only one night. Before that, maybe twenty,” Mrs. Cleansweep said in a low tone.
It had been nearly fifty years since this room had a regular inhabitant. Why? Wasn’t Andrew’s mother still living? “One night?” she asked the housekeeper who had not left yet.
“Yes. The late earl brought his bride here after their wedding, and the next afternoon he sent her away to Essex. She lived there until a few months ago.”
