by Debra Brown
Lady Breyton had caught and held her breath. She finally let it out. “It is the way of society, Genny. It is how things are done. I am a marchioness, and surely you understand that I cannot be disapproved! Darling, we are to have tea at Belgrave Square later, in a few weeks. Or perhaps we will see Lady Holmeshire sooner! Perhaps we can prepare for more pleasant conversation than we had at dinner and ask Lady Holmeshire to talk to her son about these things. Please, now, prepare yourself for the day. Be my pretty little lady again.”
“No doubt we are to have tea with Miss Carrington. Perhaps they will invite the scullery maid, as well!”
“I agree, my dear, that we must preserve proper social graces. I will discuss this, too, with Lady Holmeshire. Lady Embry is entirely horrified, and I have never seen your Papa so upset about social order! He is sorely distressed.”
“No, Mama, please. Allow me to discuss it with Lord Holmeshire at my next opportunity, for there is much at stake!”
But Genevieve found that the opportunity would not arrive soon, for Wilfred was too busy himself with Parliamentary matters, hotel meetings with assemblies of deliberating gentlemen and a week out of town to tend to his castle’s redesign.
***
Anne’s mood had been very low since meals downstairs were no longer on her schedule. Several days had gone by. How was she to know if her dear one was thinking of her? The kitchen maid certainly did not let on when she brought meals up to the nursery; she seemed to represent the Montagues with a smug smile. They were all very pleased to have won the war without ever a fight. Footmen rarely came up to the area that the nursery was in, and if they should, they were down at the far end of the hall and gone again. But she also had to deal with the Capulets of the nursery, who were greatly opposed to the romance, and with Lizzy trying to regain her position as Commander of her sister.
“Lizzy. What you have done to me!” Anne moaned. “How could you tell on me, when I had just begun to find such happiness, and destroy me?”
“You were perfectly happy all your life before you went down those stairs. You can be happy again. This could cost you and him—what’s his name? Do you even know his name? It could cost the both of you your positions!”
“I do not want my position; I want him!”
“Stop this, Anne! You do not even know him! He might be a despicable rake! If you were with him, you could not go home. How would you see Mama again, or Papa or the girls or Freddy?”
“I could write to them.”
Elizabeth shook her head, giving up for now, though angrily. She turned her attentions to hurling a paper ball to Nicky, who dodged it with a look of fear on his face.
Anne was entirely alone with her problems. Only Emma and Gabriel, of all persons in the universe, seemed to care, and they had no authority in the matter. However Emma might try to help her, would the ladies care to do her bidding? Things could not be left to chance. Anne had to think of a way to see Romeo. She wandered about the day nursery, contemplating what to do. As she passed by a window, she saw someone looking up toward her—a footman! Yes, she believed it was him! Her footman! He was there, carrying the post and looking with deep concern up at the nursery! When she appeared through the glass, his apprehensive expression turned to one of delight. He cared!
***
The door to the Drawing Room swung open for Grantham to announce a guest. “Mr. Gabriel Hughes!” The gentleman had been overtaken by a cloudburst, and the butler had taken great pains to dry him off. He took a few steps in and then stood just inside the door with the look of a guilt-ridden intruder. Helena always enjoyed his company and warmly greeted him.
“Mr. Hughes! Do come in! Join us. We’ve been just whiling away the time and are delighted to have you call! Have you arrived to complain about your excursion with Emma and Anne, or is there a happier reason for your visit?”
“Your Grace, Your Ladyship, Miss Carrington, I thank you all for receiving me. Should I complain, it would be for the rain, which, just a few moments ago, caught me having left my umbrella in lieu of my cane. It is so nice to see you all and to step in; surely I would have washed away in that downpour! I had in mind entreating Miss Carrington to walk out with me again, should her chaperone be of better constitution this day, but how inconsiderate it would be to escort a pair of ladies out to be drenched alongside me!”
Helena spoke up. “Then you shall stay and have tea with us. One must keep etiquette in its place, for it does not consider that a gentleman might have been entirely drenched! We must charitably overlook that you are not a lady come to tea in the appropriate gown and save you from certain washing away. Tea is soon to be served, and it has been some time now since we have had the opportunity to enjoy your company.”
“I shall be most grateful to stay indoors with such good company, if only you will find me a chair cushion that is not wrapped in silk, for I should hate to ruin the hard work of so many industrious little worms.”
Emma enjoyed his winsome conversation, and she hoped that she should not have to break his heart. She felt that the sooner they could talk together, the better it would be for him. She hoped there would be no more delays, but apparently this afternoon would be spent in company with the ladies. “How very kind of you to visit, Mr. Hughes; I am so grateful for your help with Anne’s unhappy afternoon.”
Gabriel ascertained that Anne had survived to this day and stated that he hoped, ever so much, that her problem could be solved in a way that would suit everyone. Helena assured him that the matter was being discussed amongst the family, and that all aspects of the situation were under consideration. To be sure, she said, they wished everyone, high and low, to be happy, but that such things take time, and that there would almost certainly be no pleasing the Belgrave staff if there were any allowance for Anne’s feelings.
Footmen arrived with a wooden chair, along with tea, cream cheese-watercress sandwiches and a few pastry selections. The ladies and Gabe all wondered if Anne’s beloved Rescuer might be among them. Simon was there, and he seemed to wish to speak, looking right at Helena, despite the rules in great houses. Helena asked whether he had something to say. He opened his mouth, but then looked around, for the first time becoming conscious of the fact that the room was well occupied with strangers. He knew that he was out of place entirely in taking this matter to Her Grace at tea, nor was he allowed to go to anyone other than Grantham with his concerns at any time. “No, ma’am,” was his unwilling reply, and he looked to the wall.
The other footmen were quite perturbed that he had nearly overstepped this boundary, that he might attempt to talk to the Duchess on another occasion and that it could result in his perpetual happiness. (They later reported it passionately to Grantham, informing him that Simon’s behavior was thoroughly inappropriate. He was quickly replaced by another footman at future teas and was given duties that did not put him in such direct contact with the Mistress of the house, who was, as the butler well knew, a sympathetic woman.)
Helena filled gold-trimmed porcelain cups as everyone took their seats at the table. There was some talk of the case that Gabriel was arguing in court for the Crown. Helena spoke to the women about a past case he had won, how he had overcome some huge obstacles and how he proved what was needed for justice in the matter. Mr. Hughes had, in fact, had some involvement in ending the death sentence for minor crimes! The Queen was particularly fond of him, having learned of that great work, according to Helena.
Gabe was happy to see a delighted expression appear on the face of the woman he favored, and whom these praises had apparently impressed. There was also some parley about upcoming social events, coordinating together as to which they would attend, with Gabe making a mental note of which parties Emma, in particular, might be allowed to grace. And, of course, some great surprise was declared about the heaviness of the spring rain shower.
“And now,” Gabriel asked Emma, “may I inquire about your life and your dear family? I do recall that you were raised by a Squire as his ward
.”
Emma gave a half smile and thought for a few seconds. “There is not much to tell, I fear. I was dropped on the doorstep of Squire Carrington as an infant some two and twenty years ago with no calling card whatsoever, and so they had to find a name for me.” Gabriel’s concern was validated.
“Oh, my dear lady, that is sad to tell.”
“I do not know, sir, it could be that I would have had a very difficult life elsewhere, but I was raised as a squire’s ward and taken in by the Countess of Holmeshire! I was educated for two years by a governess and tutors. I have come to live as a spoiled guest at Holmeshire Hall, rather than to serve, and am sitting today in the Drawing Room of the Duchess of Trent drinking a very fine tea! They are terribly good to me. It seems a very blessed life to me, and I intend always to show loyalty and appreciation for it.”
“Indeed. And I am glad of it! They could not have chosen a lovelier, more worthy girl to favor in this way.” This, of course, made Emma blush, but she made the effort not to look away, as all lovely young women must learn to accept such praise.
Winnie joined in, “Mr. Hughes himself has had a sad start to life, but has made a fine gentleman of himself!”
“I have had every advantage,” he replied. “At least after a short time as a bit of a stray kitten in the streets of London. But it made me willing to work hard, to never fall back into such sad straits again, and to do what I can for those who are so unfortunate.”
“The streets!” Emma gasped before he had even finished, “At what age were you in the streets?” She leaned forward to receive her answer the sooner.
“I only remember being there, sitting on the side of the road with other dirty little boys not far away from me. I recall being taken into a fine carriage by a well-dressed lady and given a wonderful bit of food from her basket. I just remember my amazement at her shining carriage, her thick, beaded jacket and the delicious confection. Oh, yes, and she gave me a neatly cut little sandwich as well. And I remember being taken to a grand house, such as I had never seen, and being scrubbed like I never had been. They tell me I was about four years old.”
“Four!” she choked. “You were alone on the streets at four? Who fed you? What did you eat?”
“Apparently, I was there for some time before that day. I do not remember anything before the carriage ride, but the street people knew of me and explained everything to the Princess.”
“A princess? It was a princess that took you in?”
Helena joined in, eager to share her memory of that day. “I was with Princess Charlotte that day. We had gone for an outing with Caroline, Princess of Wales. We were riding in a lovely park, watching people walk in the sunshine, and then we traveled farther into an area I had never been in. The farther we went, the sadder I felt. There were people calling out to us, desperately, to buy things from them. One had some buttons he had dug up from the mud of the filthy Thames. He had tried to clean them, but we did not dare to even touch them. We just gave him a coin for his trouble. A woman begged us for a doctor’s help for her injured child; we gave her money for a doctor. And then we saw beautiful little Gabe. We asked some women where his parents were. His mother had died, they said, and he had no one else, other than them. They had been near when his mother died, but they could not much help him. The Princess of Wales took him into the carriage and brought him home. It must be kept a strict secret as to where he came from; very few people know, or they might shun him, you know. She adopted him, as she had other children. She did not keep him in the palace, but found a genteel couple who would raise him and care for him. She paid his expenses and made sure he received a start in life to become a man who could care well for himself. He has proven to be a man who certainly deserved the help, for he, in turn, looks after others.”
“That was the day Helena came home and told me how she wished to help the poor,” Winnie recalled. “She was very persuasive with our parents and was in tears. It made me realize how difficult life can be for other people. So you see, it turned out for the good, for Mr. Hughes and for us.”
“And for me,” Emma mused. “Perhaps that is why I am here.”
“Then I am all the gladder for having lived it!” Gabe declared.
***
Time had gone by slowly for poor Anne, who was in desperation, trapped between the ladies’ rooms and the nursery. She would see her loved one below the window, when he returned with the post a few times daily, and he would always look up, hoping to see her there, but neither of them could find a way to communicate with the other. Waving would have been noticed, and she could not throw open the window of Nanny Bowen’s nursery and the reason go undiscovered.
Anne had determined that should much more time pass in this way, she would take matters into her own hands. And that day had arrived. Anne now knew what times of day her darling was to be seen, looking up at her window, but the doors of the building were guarded by the Montagues, and she did not know whether any of them had defected to Simon’s side. She could not get near the main door, near where she always saw him, on any pretense. And she surely could not saunter through the kitchen and out the servant’s door.
So she conspired, her scheme requiring the assistance of a hapless geranium plant from the nursery. Nanny Bowen was preoccupied with Nicky when Anne abducted the flower.
Next she devised that she might be admitted to the Drawing Room above Mr. Grantham’s sacred door. She approached Grantham, curtsied politely, and asked to be admitted to the room. This puzzled him, but he assumed it related to a lady’s plant, and she was announced. Inside the room, she curtsied again and asked Her Grace whether she could please put her precious potted geranium out on the balcony, for just one afternoon, for a bit of extra daylight. It was, she said, her very own living thing, and she thought of it as her precious baby.
Helena was a bit confused, as lady’s maids did not normally step in this way, but for the sake of the poor lovely plant it was logical enough, and she gave permission. The timing was perfect. Juliet stepped out on the balcony and dropped a note just as her Romeo passed beneath. He had been dismayed not to see his dear one standing at her window post, but now he was aware of the reason. He caught the note, smiled and bowed his head to her and entered the building as proficiently as ever.
***
Genevieve and her mother moved ahead with their plans for the Midsummer Night’s Dream Ball. Several times they called in their committee for tea and planning sessions. Eventually, invitations went out to all the best people. Everyone went to their seamstresses asking for wispy, sparkling gowns in pale color, cut with pixie hems, trimmed with flowers and vines, some with wings, all with garlands or crowns, all full of mystery and intrigue. The group made plans for decorations that would turn Handerton’s ballroom into a nocturnal forest. They called in craftsmen, searching for those who could create the needed decorations. Genevieve nearly forgot her problems, for fitting all the planning and work into her already unrelenting schedule.
Other than for his trip to Holmeshire, Lord Wilfred never missed a day at the Palace of Westminster, paying rapt attention to the speeches and deliberations of the gentlemen. He held back as a junior member, but had been given an opportunity once, through Lord Breyton, to speak, and he rose to the occasion. His words were greeted heartily; it was apparent that he would be a highly respected Lord in the chamber. A few even suggested to him that he set his sights on the role of Prime Minister within a decade or so!
Unexpectedly one day, Wills arrived at Handerton House to call on Genevieve. She had been planning and working with the young Lady Katherine Embry and Miss Samantha Highmore, her closest friends, and her mother. All were surprised and delighted when Wills was announced at the door of the glassed-in Palm Room, where they had gone to induce woodland thoughts in the botanical atmosphere. Even the butler could not help but exult at his arrival.
“Please, have a seat, My Lord,” beamed Grace, The Lady Breyton. He bowed his head and then stood as the women moved themselve
s from a table to grasscloth divans near a proliferation of palm leaves, hovering over ferns and orchids, and took a seat after they did.
“Good day, Milady,” he replied, “and Lady Genevieve, Lady Katherine, Miss Highmore.” He paused. “Is this perhaps the committee for your ball, Lady Breyton?” She nodded and said that yes, it was, in part, the committee. He continued, “I am terribly sorry to have been so long away. Although I have been in Town for the most part, I have been working very hard, and I was, in fact, away for a short time.”
“We had heard that you were away,” Katherine expressed sincerely, relieved and respecting the fact that Wills was, at last, here and had not yet committed any faux pas. “Did you have success with your project at Holmeshire?”
“I would love to share my story of that matter with you very much, but I am terribly short of time today. I’m afraid that you will all find me to be very rude. I came to ask whether Genevieve would be permitted to leave you all to accompany me on an outing?” Smiles brightened despite his abruptness; Grace winked knowingly at her daughter’s friends and then stood up to ring the bell for Genevieve’s wrap. She turned, though, to Wills with a warning.
“Please, Lord Holmeshire, do keep Genny at your side. There have been strange men watching her for some time, more and more recently, and we are frightened.”
“I will be right beside her, Your Ladyship, do not concern yourself. It can be only a brief outing, so should you ladies care to wait for Genevieve, I promise to return her to you quite safely within the hour.” All nodded in agreement, and Genevieve stood up to prepare to go. It seemed to be such a short period of time that he had set aside for this outing, and apparently a proposal, as he had promised to deliver one some weeks ago, but Genny had decided to accept that her future husband would be a very busy man. Wills waited, rather impatiently, for her cloak and then requested of her, “Genny, dearest, would you please remove your jewelry?” Puzzled expressions replaced every smile, Genny’s most of all. She removed her necklace and rings and gave them to her mother, took her gloves and parasol and went out the door, bewildered by this perplexing man.
