by Debra Brown
“Lovely. Just as I would have it.”
Wills pointed out an ancient oak that he had climbed many times, even as a youth; Emma remembered furtively, fondly watching him, but hoped that the memory did not show on her face. Boulders and primroses and a rainbow all took their turns at being the focus of conversation, and the family was beaming with adulations when they came around the last bend. “And lastly, my ladder!” Wills pointed out as they passed his forsaken tree house. “Soon, Nick, you will be man enough to climb up to Kingdom Come yourself. I named it so, as it seemed so far away when I was a boy!”
Barreby had fled the church in a two-seated gig at the last chord of the organ and, along with a footman, was representing the absent members of the staff at the entrance, stiff and polished, chin in the air. Winnie spoke as she climbed the steps, “Come to me in the Sitting Room when you can, Barreby.”
“All seems to be well, ma’am,” he reported as she passed through the door. She had allowed him to think so for the sake of the morning’s observances. However, besides Emma’s stalker, there was another matter. Once everyone was dismantled and their winter wrappings taken away, he strode in to meet her.
"Barreby, now, do not become upset, but I have something I would like you to watch for. My emerald and sapphire bracelet is missing. It disappeared this morning. I cannot imagine what has happened to it.”
“Ma’am!” He was horrified. “I am so sorry! I will make sure it is found quickly and the thief punished!” To be sure, the poor man would not sleep well until it was found.
“Be careful, Barreby. I do not care to have anyone accused of taking it without proof. It could be an accidental matter, after all.” She hid her fears under a trusting face, as she had for the morning.
“Ma’am!” His face gave away that he realized the truth of it. The jewelry was too well cared for to have just disappeared. Normally under lock and key, it had been set out for Winnie to wear to church. Elizabeth had been up and down the stairs a few times, and Winnie had meandered around her suite from room to room, leaving the bracelet unattended, but it should have remained where it had been placed. When the time had arrived to place it on Winnie’s arm, it was strangely gone.
“I trust my staff, you know. Elizabeth has been impeccably honest, and she recommended her sister to me without reservation. The dear girl was never in any kind of trouble in the town. No housemaid was in the room during that time, as far as I know. And we both know it was not Emma. Why would she take it? Just be aware, and watch for any hint of the bracelet.”
He bowed and started to leave the room in great distress. Winnie stopped him. “Nobody is to hear of this. At least not until I give leave.” As he left, she looked out the window, despairing.
~Chapter 4~
The London Season; A First for Emma
Sounds of London’s clattering horses, the noxious smells of sewer and industry and the yells of a broom boy rose into the shadows of an ancient room in Bermondsey. Tallow candles flickered by day, their cost having spared many generations in the home the expense of the Window Tax.
But what did the young woman care about the lack of a window? She was out working by day. The darkness of the room somewhat hid the tattered condition of stacked blankets and cracks in the washing bowl. She hung her husband’s wet trousers across the living space, their one room in a moldering house, while he dealt himself a hand of solitaire under a tallow candle on a scratched table. The cards were bright and new, a gift from his wife.
Up the stairs and into the room strode Benedict Scott, the gaunt, lantern-jawed man, and their few weeks of privacy ended. “They are on their way into town,” he reported to his son. “I went to ‘er village and asked around about ‘er, and it seems as though nobody knows anything at all about this. It was a long, expensive trip for nothing! And now my money’s gone. All of it! A waste of time. A waste of money. But if I asked more questions about ‘er, they woulda told ‘em.”
“We’ll just ‘av ta bide our time, Papa. We can’t do anything right now, like I told you.” Charles, about twenty-five years of age, was always pleased to take things slowly. But in this matter, he was right.
“I just ‘av ta figure out what we can do. I’m not wanting to wait on it.”
“We ‘av plenty of time for it! Sit down and play me.” He gathered up his cards and shuffled. “Lucy, get Papa some of that soup.”
“I need to know more of the law,” the older man grumbled. “I guess I’ll ‘av to find the money for a solicitor!” Lucy quietly scraped her money off a sideboard, into her apron’s pocket, and brought the potato stew.
***
A white, stuccoed, four-terraced home in Belgrave Square, the newest bit of architecture, was much desired as an aristocratic home. Just southwest of Buckingham Palace, it was in one of the wealthiest districts in the world. There was no evidence of concern for the Window Tax. Rather, sunlight poured into every room when any clouds had passed along. Their Graces, the Duke of Trent and his Duchess, had moved in just a year earlier, and this would be Winnie’s third visit, but Wills’ and Emma’s first. The columned porch was a welcome sight to the arriving guests after languishing in a coach for such a distance.
The Countess wanted to stretch, like a child out of church, upon disembarking. Instead, she reached up to wave and acknowledged Helena’s excited welcome from the balcony above the portico. Footmen came out to assist the group, and the butler, Grantham, stood at the door.
“I will announce your arrival,” he declared to the visitors, despite the greetings from above and below. The Holmeshires entered, and he tended to their needs. A footman informed Nanny Bowen and the lady’s maids, “Servants’ quarters are on the top floor, the nursery is on the second and I will show you the back stairs.” They departed immediately, taking Nicholas along.
Wills and Emma looked around the awe-inspiring entrance, astounded, and followed Grantham and Winnie up the grand staircase to the excitedly waiting Duchess. She led them down a stately, forest green hall, passing Corinthian pillars along the way, to the Drawing Room. There, watercolors lined the walls, the signatures of famous artists lying along the borders. Ferns beautified and warmed the atmosphere, sitting atop marble pedestals of various heights along the navy and white papered walls. Over the fireplace hung a portrait of the reigning Queen Victoria, flanked neatly on each side by paintings of the uncrowned late Queen Caroline and her daughter, the nation’s beloved Princess Charlotte of Wales. The rule of Charlotte had been defeated forever, not by armies or uprisings, but by her death at the birth of her stillborn son. Feelings of grief that the portraits brought to the visitors were graciously wiped away by the welcoming words from Their Graces. The much older Duke, gray subduing his once flaming hair, stood at attention to receive his honors in a stylish long, brown frock coat over a high-collared shirt and low-cut vest.
“I’ve waited this day to kiss my dear sister-in-law,” he related as she curtsied, and then kissed her cheek, “and we shall have tea together, ere I must leave. Is that not a fine greeting? But politics, it seems, must be argued. Please sit. Do I know this lady?” He motioned toward the reticent Emma, still standing, divine in her traveling dress, near the doorway.
“Sir,” Wills replied, as he returned to escort her further inside. “She is my mother’s companion, Miss Emma Carrington. I pray, my mother cannot live without her for a moment, and she must stay with us.”
"Well, you have grown bold enough to inform me of that, have you, Wills? I am happy to learn of it. I am an old bear, but you will be grateful to know that I generally leave the matter of whom we will receive to your Aunt Helena.” He turned and mumbled, gesturing fully, to a statue of a former king in the corner, “She has impeccable taste; she often forgets to invite Lady Embry to tea. The old hag will be coming to dinner, I fear, because her esteemed husband is worth all the misery. Now,” and he turned back to his guests, “where does Miss Carrington care to sit after so much time in a coach? This chair over here, I propose,
as I have not yet seen it lurch, neither left nor right.” His gruff airs had been mellowed by the passing of years, and his marriage to Helena had brought him such joy that in matters at home he had become more a grandfather than a general. Her opinion meant everything to him, and she upheld his position loyally.
The ladies chose comfortable Queen Anne chairs, and Winnie reported a wish that she could put her feet up and still please dear old Miss Wathem. Helena laughed and said that there was no need to please her anymore. They had always gone behind her back anyway, and especially when it was just the family sitting together. “But Sister,” she said, relaxed and teasing, “How will we explain our behavior to Miss Carrington? Now that concerns me more, as she has heard the worst of it quite recently and will remember the admonitions better than we. She may just remind us of Miss Wathem’s rules!”
“So it is true that you have not had Embry to tea! For you would have had admonitions aplenty from her and be quite informed.” Winnie smiled and chose to maintain proper decorum, as always, in a royal Drawing Room.
Tea was served as Wills approached the Duke and expressed his surprise that he had allowed a portrait of the deceased Queen to be hung in his home. She was the rejected wife of his own brother and with such a reputation!
“Well, she is dead now, for one thing,” the Duke remarked. “One must show respect for the dead, and I have deep concern for a woman whose husband is cruel toward her, God rest his foolish soul. I have not spoken to one person who would swear to me of her improper behavior. Perhaps they feared to inform me of it, for not knowing how I would respond. The trials proved nothing, though they left much to be imagined. For another thing, His Majesty would never grace my doorstep when he was alive, even to concern himself with my loyalties in the matter! But I must not mind; he was a pointlessly busy man. He spent his time drumming up much of that expensive regal ceremony that is now custom.” He stood back and looked at the portraits. “My wife, you know, was a dear friend of the Princess,” he pointed to Charlotte, “and the Princess loved her mother...whenever she found it possible. It was not always easy; Caroline had locked her daughter in the bedroom with a boy, and she could have ruined the virginal reputation of the future queen!”
“Her mother was good to me,” Helena sought to persuade Wills, “and to your Mum!”
“And to others we know,” added Winnie.
“And that is all that matters, now,” the Duke shrugged, “it all being behind us. Furthermore, few of us in this family supported the Regent in his follies. Sadly, my father lived to see it and would have been driven mad, were he not already.” He sipped at brandy that he had poured and chided Wills, “Good it is to see you now grown enough to discuss matters of such vast importance. Ladies, I know you are exhausted from your travels, and I do have things to accomplish yet today, so I will take my leave of you and let you get some rest. Holmeshire, should you be up to it, I would like to take you along to voice your opinions, so we can all find out just what they are! If you are going to help run the Empire, I shall need to correct your thinking.”
Laughter resounded. Wills happily bid the ladies adieu. Helena walked after them to the door of the room, saying goodbye to her James and holding on to Wills’ shoulder. She implored him to stay and not to be so very grown up. Wills, however, laughingly declined the request, and he joined the Duke in his exit. They were off to the nearest grand hotel to defeat the newest bill before it was introduced and before Parliament had even been opened.
Helena looked back at the portraits and mused, “Ah, those days, so long ago. I have not talked of them in ages now! We did feel sorry for the problems of Caroline, sent to live apart from her husband and little daughter.” She picked up the teapot and filled her own cup. “Our Mama was angered by it all, but held her tongue. For her good graces, we were allowed to visit and play with the Princess Charlotte.”
Winnie reminisced, “Helena, more than I, spent time with her. The poor thing was given her own house and household, though she was just a child! Probably because her father was very busy and...” she deplored, “did not care to be caught at it. What sort of example would that be for the future queen?”
Helena walked around slowly while they spoke. She was, at forty-one, a bit younger than Winnie and had married a year later. Her gowns were richer, and her hair was filled with jewels. One always knew her from behind for her sparkling coiffure and the elegant design of the back of each dress.
“Yes,” she went on, “there were many scandalous reports about her mother. But Charlotte and I, and sometimes Winnie, spent some happy times together when her Papa would allow her guests of her own choosing. I would stay with her, and we would drive the servants mad with running down the halls. There were ancient treasures to preserve there, you know, and the airs of a princess to be learnt! Such a situation it was. Servants raising a princess and her parents away in separate directions. Three households for one family of three! At times, we would go with her to see her mother.”
Winnie lifted her chin from her folded hands. “Another lifestyle existed in Caroline’s home, and she was required to adapt. There was even a little boy there who may or may not have been Charlotte’s little brother; who ever knows? Her mother claimed to have adopted him. She did truly adopt a number of children. You shall meet one of them tonight, Emma—Mr. Gabriel Hughes is his name—but this other child she kept at her side, poor woman, and people said it was hers.”
Helena stood in front of Caroline’s portrait, staring at it. “Charlotte was terribly distressed over the way her mother was dealt with. Many times they were not allowed to see each other. But as she grew up, she knew she had to begin to stand up for herself and to make her own life. It was surprising—she became very strong. She threw out William of Orange as her suitor! William was her father’s choice; he was just right for the politics of it, you know, but Charlotte preferred someone she had met only once. Her father was forced to consent to it should he care to have a son-in-law and an heir to his daughter’s throne. He sent for Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld and told him that the future queen wanted to marry him! How could either of them say no?”
Winifred laughed and shook her head, recalling Charlotte’s firm stance. “After that, I was sure she could manage as queen. They married and were terribly happy, though it was for a very short time. The nation expected to see them on the throne fairly young and looked forward to it greatly.” She put her hand beside her mouth as if to tell a secret. “We could barely sing ‘God Save the King!’” They all laughed. “Helena was to be ready to go to spend time at their cottage as soon as Charlotte recovered from the birth...but of course, she never did.” A long pause ensued.
“I had wished to be in attendance there for the birth,” Helena added, “and I have never decided whether I am sad or grateful to not have been there. Her doctor was devastated. He destroyed himself three months later, while attending the birth of another child!”
“How dreadful for you all,” Emma expressed. “How dreadful for the nation!”
“Oh yes,” the Duchess continued, “There was great, great mourning. The nation was distraught. They had placed so much hope in Charlotte and Leopold after the huge uproar that her father’s life had become. As Lord Byron later wrote, “...in the dust The Fair haired daughter of the Isle is laid, The love of millions, how we did entrust Futurity to her.” I was beside myself. I insisted Leopold come and spend some time with us, and he was hopeless, just devastated. ‘In just a moment of time,’ he said, ‘it was over. All over. It was as if the future had ended. Instead of watching my wife playing with our child, I had an empty house. Instead of a nation celebrating the birth of a future monarch, they faced a funeral for two.’ After he went home, James and I left the country for Switzerland to suffer our grief. I just could not stay here in the midst of an ocean of sorrow. It was as if the pain kept pouring in, and I could not bail it out fast enough.”
Winnie broke in, “And then there arose a desperate cry from everywhere, for t
wo heirs had passed and left no one at all! Who was to carry on the royal line? Of all the King’s brothers, none had legitimate heirs! All had to abandon their mistresses and children and search out wives royal enough to beget the next king or queen!”
“And youthful enough, and willing,” interjected Helena, “despite the princes’ being aged.”
“Helena, though, had just consented and married the Duke, so, with her being of noble blood and married with the King’s permission, he was not made to abandon her to take a princess. There were few to choose from, and none cared to see the marriage of Charlotte’s parents repeated.”
“That is likely why I am still beloved to him; I spared him from conscripted matrimony! We had mercifully fallen in love, ourselves, and married to enjoy a life of happiness together.” Helena paused, standing behind Winnie with her hands on her shoulders. “Charlotte was with child when she attended our wedding, you know. We were a royal bride and groom with the Hope of the Nation at our side. And after she died, we thought that we would perhaps carry on for her; we would have a son to sit in her place on the throne, though her dying was the last thing we could have ever wanted. The dynasty could not be left in our hands alone, for fear that we would not provide an heir, and so German princesses were sought for the others. William became king after George, but none of his legitimate children lived, only ten of the others; we kept thinking that we might provide the first of several heirs.”
“But they have never had a child,” said Winnie.
“No, we just never could have a child. I could not do even that for my wishful husband, or for Charlotte. Nor even to save the Empire.”
“But the Empire is safe with a beloved Queen, now,” Emma voiced in an attempt to proffer comfort, which the ladies constrained their emotions to accept.
“Yes, we have our dear young Victoria,” Winnie confessed. “We are so happy, for she has great concern for the people. She has asked for reports on their living conditions. At long last, we have such a monarch. We pray for her safekeeping, as you surely do.”
