by Joyce Alec
Well, except during the times I am with the children. She related to those girls better than she had ever thought she would. These children felt rejected, unwanted, and unloved.
Margaret reprimanded herself as she climbed into the carriage, thanking the footman. No, she was not like them. She had every advantage, with parents who loved her, and a place to call her own.
But I feel I can see so much of myself in Nancy, and in Ellie, and in the twins… oh, little Mary…
Thinking of them broke her heart.
She leaned against the back of the seat as the carriage turned to take her back to her father’s estate.
And something with that man seemed so familiar, she thought. Who was he? And why do I feel as if I have seen him before?
She would not have called him handsome, so to speak, but he was not an unfortunate looking man.
Not like Lord Pond… she thought sourly, feeling a grimace on her face.
But she could not place him, and after a few moments, her thoughts moved back to the girls, and what her next class would be, and what their futures might look like.
3
Richard was not an unpleasant fellow, at least not to those who really knew him. He often preferred to keep to himself, and was unsure why others seemed to think it so strange.
Perhaps it was because he was a thinker at heart, a man who found solace in his own thoughts and prayers instead of in the company of others.
He was also a man of conviction and consistency.
Every Sunday, he rose before dawn to ensure that he made it to the church to be able to speak with the vicar before the other parishioners arrived, and he often found the dialogue to be the best that he had all week.
Every other Wednesday, he would spend time at the library in town reading up on the latest news from London and the rest of the world. The librarian always knew which places he enjoyed reading about best and always ensured that the small table beside the fireplace was open and available when he arrived.
And the last Monday of every month was the day that he brought his donation money to the orphanage. It was a tradition that his grandfather had started, and having loved his grandfather dearly, Richard had continued the tradition. Although, at the time, the orphanage did not exist. His grandfather had given money directly to the parish for the parish children. Richard’s visit to the orphanage was always short, and he was sure that he had never actually met any of the children. But he saw them playing outside whenever he visited, and that made him pleased that his money was going to help those who could not help themselves.
He knew that if the Lord had blessed him with much, that much would be asked of him, and giving money to children seemed like a good way to distribute it.
“Thank you for your visit, Lord Barkley,” Mrs. Franklin said to him, her face alight with emotion. “This donation is far more than we could have ever asked for. Truly you are a blessing for these children.” She was staring at the stack of bank notes in her hand, and he was almost sure that her eyes were filling with tears.
Richard nodded curtly. “Of course, Mrs. Franklin.”
“Is there anything I can get you before you go, my Lord?” she asked. “Some tea, or some cakes, perhaps? Our cook has just baked some of the most wonderful scones.”
He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I must be going.”
“Well, if you are sure,” she said, rising to her feet.
He stood as well, and straightened the front of his coat.
“That young woman that was just leaving as I arrived,” he asked, almost absently. “Does she work here?”
“Oh, do you mean Lady Margaret? Oh, heavens, no! She volunteers her time every few weeks to spend some time with some of the girls here.”
“I see,” he answered. “I guess I should have known that by the fine dress she wore.”
Mrs. Franklin gave Richard a look that he did not quite understand.
“Why do you ask?”
He felt his brow furrow. “No particular reason. I just had never seen her here before.”
“Ah,” she replied, but she smiled at him, and he was unsure why.
“Well, I should not keep you if you have somewhere to be,” she said, and she walked with him to the door.
“Thank you again, Lord Barkley. This will mean so much to the children.”
He nodded his head, and after replacing his hat on top of his head, bowed slightly in her direction.
“Give your husband my best,” he said, and after promises that she would, Richard walked down the hall, down the steps, and back out into the sunlight.
He called for his carriage and sat down inside, and sat back against the seat once they were on their way.
Even away from Mrs. Franklin, he was unsure why he had asked about that young woman he had passed. Run into, rather. He supposed it was because he felt guilty about being so unaware of her presence in the first place.
She was not a remarkable beauty, perhaps too thin, with ordinary brown, curly hair. She did have an extraordinary color of eyes, though. And she was less than polite, he reflected. She must not have been paying attention either, for if she were, she could have moved out of his way.
He huffed, his blood pumping faster through his veins.
Then perhaps she is just as much at fault as I am, and she did not think to apologize.
He arrived home not long later, his mind moving from finances to the rest of his week to what book he had been reading earlier that morning.
“My lord,” his footman said as he pulled open the door to the carriage. “I believe that your mother is here.”
Richard’s mind flared red. “How do you know?” he asked.
The footman, his eyes wide with fear, pointed to the carriage parked near the stable.
Richard had to suppress a groan. He sighed heavily, nodding to his footman. “Thank you. I shall go and deal with it.”
“May the Lord go with you,” his footman said after him nervously.
Typically, he would be upset with one of his servants speaking so openly about his mother, but she had caused trouble too many times and so he did not mind the footman’s remark. Richard felt his hands ball into fists.
Sure enough, he discovered his mother seated beside the fireplace in his study as if the house were her own.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” he said, pulling his gloves from his hands, his eyes fixated on the back of her head.
She did not turn to look at him; she did not even move to acknowledge that she had heard him.
He took a step into the room, not even attempting to quiet his loud, long strides.
“I did not know that I would be having the pleasure of your company today,” he continued, laying his jacket over the back of one of the chairs near his desk.
The room was rather dark, with the only light from the fireplace. For some reason, she had the drapes drawn over the windows, which had plunged the room into a deep darkness.
Still she did not move.
Richard stood there, his hands on his hips beside his desk, staring at the chair where she sat.
“Do not be coy with me, Richard,” she replied finally, her voice grave and like acid.
Already he was feeling the anger begin to bubble up inside of him.
“I am not coy, Mother,” he responded, remaining where he was.
“And since when do I need permission to visit my one and only son?” she said, her face still turned away from him toward the fire.
He drummed his fingers against his desk. “Oh, please,” he began. “What is it this time, hmm? To talk to someone you wronged? To get you an invite to somewhere that you should not be?”
“Why do you assume that I want something from you?” she replied, though her tone suggested otherwise.
“The only time that you ever come here is when you want something,” he replied flatly.
His heart was already beating fast, and he could feel the tips of his fingers shaking and growing numb.
&
nbsp; “You should be ashamed for saying such things about your poor mother,” she spat, this time turning around to look at him.
She had not aged well, with bags that hung around her eyes that made her look like a blood hound. Her eyes were sharp and glaring, her brow almost knitted together in anger.
There is the face I know, he thought sourly.
“What would your father say?” she said, and Richard noticed that she was grasping the arms of the chair.
“I would not know, Mother,” he answered scathingly. “Father was never around, spending all of his time and money at the derby. And when he was, I am not sure that I ever saw him without a drink in his hand.”
There was a loud slap as she slammed her hand down onto the arm of her chair, with much more force than what a woman in her state should have been capable of doing.
He was ashamed of himself, but he flinched, just as he had when he was a young boy.
“That is enough,” she said, in a tone just above a whisper.
He swallowed and stood taller.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice firm and unyielding. “You are in my house, and I can easily ask you to leave.”
Silence was all he received in reply for a few moments, his mother looking back into the fire.
“I wondered what became of that woman that you met at the ball a few weeks ago.”
Richard’s jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain as calm as he could.
“Nothing,” he said. “And how did you know about that?”
He held up his hand, even though she was not looking at him.
“On second thought, do not tell me. I do not wish to know how you seem to know everything about everyone around you.”
“What was wrong with this one?” she asked, her voice rising. “Not plump enough? Or not rich enough?”
Richard resisted the urge to retaliate immediately. He knew that was what she wanted.
“How petty do you think I am, Mother?” he answered.
“Apparently far more than I had originally thought, for if you had any sense in your head at all, you would be married by now.”
He gritted his teeth. “Why is this so important to you?” he asked, unable to control his temper, and his voice rose. “Why do you care if I marry or if I rot here in this house all alone for the rest of my life?”
“Because I do not want to see your father’s good name dying with you!” she responded, her voice equally as angry. “I expect good, strong grandsons who will be proud to carry the family name!”
“And what if I were to only have daughters?” he retorted, grasping the edge of his desk, worried that his knees might give out if he did not.
“Then you might have to find another wife who could give you a son,” she said, nodding her head with certainty.
“Unbelievable…” Richard said under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up. “I do hope that I have only daughters, so that they can marry upstanding men, and their grandfather’s sins will not follow them. I hope that I am the last to have his name.”
He knew that he had said the unforgivable to her, but he did not care. He had thought it when he was young, and he still felt it now that he was older. He had dealt with the looks and comments from the people that his parents had known all his life, and he was often treated poorly because of who his father was and what he did, even though he had wealth and a title.
He knew that it was part of the reason why he had not married yet. He could not pass that down onto unknowing children, for he knew that there were still enough people in the society around him that would remember his father. They would be condemned before they ever took their first breath.
She rose to her feet, and she shot a dangerous look at him.
“Very well,” she replied, and snatched up her bag and her hat. “See if I care if you do rot here in this house. Your father hated it anyway, and that was why he gave it to you.”
She did not look at him again before she left the room.
Richard exhaled, not realizing that he had been holding his breath until she had walked out the door. Immediately he threw back the curtains and allowed the last of the sun into the room. He resisted the urge to throw open the windows as well to wash any memory or stench of her. He gripped the windowsill, looking out into the yard. He could see her carriage pulling from the driveway, and each yard she traveled away, the tension in his heart eased more and more.
“My lord?”
Richard flinched, but he immediately recognized the voice. He turned to see the face of his butler, Mr. Tetley.
“Oh, it’s just you,” he said. He dragged himself to the chair at his desk and almost fell into it.
Mr. Tetley looked at him sympathetically before stepping into the room. “How long had it been since you had seen her last?” he asked.
Richard blinked, his eyes not focused on the desk in front of his eyes. “I do not know,” he said. “Perhaps a year? Maybe two?”
“Perhaps a year or two too soon, if you do not mind my observation, sir,” Mr. Tetley said.
Richard nodded his head. “I could not have said it better myself.”
“What did she want this time?”
Richard laughed dryly. “She is that transparent, is it not?” He tapped his fingers on the desk again.
The room was far brighter than it had been when she was there, even though the sun was almost below the horizon, and it felt like his own room again, not like the cave that his mother kept her house. He was surprised that her caretaker had even allowed her to leave the house. She must have bribed her somehow.
He scowled.
“Apparently I am a worthless son since I have not yet produced sons to inherit the noble name of my father.”
Mr. Tetley rocked on his heels, his hands behind his back. “Well, if I may say, you have done a fantastic job in redeeming your name since your father’s passing. All the men who have walked through the doors of your house have said nothing but wonderful things of you, even when you are out of earshot. And they do not know that I am hearing them.”
Richard felt the corner of his mouth turn up. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he said. “I am glad to hear that I have done a respectable job.”
Mr. Tetley bowed his head. “I am sorry that she upset you so much by coming here. She arrived only a quarter of an hour before you. I attempted to keep her out, but she barged past me. When I tried to follow her, she went right in here and pulled the drapes shut. When I attempted to open them, insisting that you liked to have them open, she ignored me and continued to close them. I knew leaving her alone was perhaps the wisest choice for me.”
“That indeed was a good choice,” Richard agreed. “I would not have wanted you to suffer her wrath for such a little reason. Not your fault, mind you, but because she is so easily unsettled.”
He groaned. “Well, my day was going quite well until all of this happened.”
“Well, then, perhaps this shall cheer you up,” Mr. Tetley said, and he pulled an envelope from the pocket of his jacket. “A letter arrived for you just before your mother did. I think you will be pleased.”
He laid the letter on the desk, and Richard saw his name scrawled in an impressive, swooping way.
“Who is it from?”
Mr. Tetley merely smiled.
“I shall leave you to read it.” He made to leave the room before turning back to Richard. “Shall I have dinner delivered here? Or would you like to eat in the dining room?”
Richard, still looking at the letter, said, “I would love to eat in the dining room, but only if you will join me. I do hate eating alone in that room.”
Mr. Tetley grinned and nodded deeply. “Yes, my Lord. I shall see to it.”
He closed the door quietly behind him, and Richard could not have been more grateful to him for his gentleness.
He grabbed his letter opener from his desk, dislodged the wax seal, and opened the letter. His eyes drifted
to the bottom of it, and he saw with great joy the name Greenshire, an old friend.
He returned his gaze to the top of the letter and began reading.
Barkley,
My lovely wife and I would like to invite you to visit us at our home. We have decided that we have gone far too long without seeing some of our friends, and we thought a few weeks together would be just the thing. You would be welcome as early as August 1st, but welcome any time after that. We do hope that you will come and stay with us. It would bring us great joy.
Sincerely,
Greenshire
Richard smiled in spite of himself. The aggravation of having his mother around was washing away with the images of his friends and the anticipation of spending a few weeks with them.
Lord Greenshire had been his friend since they were young. Richard may have been a few years older than him, but that did not prevent the two boys from hitting it off when they were children. Lord Greenshire was more than aware of his father and how he acted, and was one of the few people who did not treat Richard any differently because of it. In fact, it may have spurred their friendship on ever more.
He considered for a few moments and shook his head, laughing to himself. “I would be a fool to turn this offer down.”
He reached back inside his desk for his best quill and his ink. He found some parchment and quickly scratched down a reply.
Greenshire,
Thank you very much for the kind offer. I shall happily accept and will take your offer of arriving on the first of August. I am looking forward to it.
Barkley
He sealed it with the wax seal given to him by his father when he came of age, with a large letter B on it. It was a beautiful filigree letter, nestled perfectly in the red wax.
He sighed. He could not change his name, but he could change what his name meant.
“Mr. Tetley,” Richard called as he got to his feet. “I have a letter that needs to be delivered.”
4
A few days into the month of August, Margaret received a letter inviting her to come to a ball that her sister Jane and her husband were hosting at their house. Apparently, Jane missed all of the social events of her life before she was married, and Andrew was looking for an excuse to be able to get together with some friends.
