by Holly Bush
The Sheldon girls were most likely uninterested in becoming his Duchess after hearing the tale the wren had no doubt shared. His sister had a suitor she did not need. He could not manage to snare a bride that he needed desperately. He had six months till his thirtieth birthday. Plenty of time to make his rounds of balls and assemblies. Plenty of time to find a wife.
But by Saturday, Thornsby was in a panic. Athena had not arrived home. Could she have been overtaken by highwaymen on her way home? Come down with an illness? Thornsby had just instructed Withrow to have his horse saddled intending to ride to Lady Wilma’s home when the butler opened the door. Athena and Smithly flew in arm-in-arm.
“Freddy!” Athena said and ran to her brother. She gave him a sisterly hug and kiss. “I have so much to tell you.”
“Athena! My God. I have been worried to death about you. You sent no message. I was sure you had been left for dead on the side of the road,” Thornsby said and gave into his alarm. He’d slept little the night before. He hadn’t really had a taste of life without her other than the past three days. Thornsby did not care for it. Over the years, he supposed he’d become accustomed to her conversation and her causes, and it was dreadfully quiet without her. He raised his head from their embrace.
“Smithly. Leave and don’t come back for quite some time,” Thornsby growled.
“Be back in a month as a matter of fact,” Andrew said with a smile.
“Not quite long enough,” Thornsby said. He looked at Athena. “You are all right? I was terribly worried, Athena.”
“I’m fine, Freddy. Wonderful in fact,” Athena said.
His sister was smiling broadly. That was odd. “Where have you been, Athena?”
“Why, Scotland, of course,” Athena said.
Thornsby titled his head. “Scotland? What of Lady Wilma? Whatever did you go to . . . ”
“Gretna Greene,” Smithly volunteered. He turned to Athena. “Best go get packed.”
Athena walked to Andrew and laid her hand on his cheek. “I’ll hurry.”
And then Thornsby saw it. “Is that a ring on your finger?”
Smithly pulled Athena close and smiled. “Customary to give the wife a ring on her wedding day, Freddy.”
“Your wife?” Thornsby shouted.
“We must be on our way by four at the latest, Athena,” Smithly said. He kissed his wife on the nose. “Mrs. Andrew Smithly, I mean.”
Athena sighed.
“In my study, Athena. Smithly, stay here,” Thornsby bellowed. He watched the two of them whisper and smile silly smiles. He marched off.
Athena seated herself across from her brother after she joined him in his study. “What do you need, Freddy? I can only let Mildred pack so much without being there to supervise.”
“You mean to carry on with this silly plan,” Thornsby whispered. He watched his sister’s face produce the scowl he was accustomed to.
“I am married, Thornsby. Nothing you can do about it.” Athena leaned forward. “You heard us in the hallway at Maplewood. Certainly you understood?”
“I understand nothing, Athena. Nothing at all,” Thornsby said. “We could attempt to get you an annulment.”
“I don’t want an annulment. I am well and truly married,” Athena said. Thornsby’s face colored.
“Whatever is wrong, Freddy? Smithly is your best friend? I have known him for years. He has mountains of money. And he loves me,” Athena said. “You should be happy.”
“He loves you?” Thornsby repeated. “And pigs will fly. He’s surely used that endearment on many occasions.” He knew the second the words left his lips they’d been the wrong ones. “I didn’t mean it like that, Athena.”
“Particularly cruel of you, Freddy,” Athena said. “I will not bore you with all the details, but I am convinced that Andrew loves me, and I most definitely love him.”
Thornsby stared out the window. His sister, his confidante, had sprouted wings. “I am truly sorry, Athena. If you love him and he loves you, then I must and will be happy for you both.”
Athena stared at her brother. “What is it, Freddy? We’ve no secrets. We never have.”
Thornsby pursed his lips into a crooked grin. “Just odd, don’t you think? I went to Maplewood for a bride, and you came home with a husband.”
“We’ve been together too long, Freddy. We’re sister and brother, not man and wife. Each of us needs to find the right one to share this life with. I have. You will as well,” Athena said.
Thornsby shrugged his shoulders. “Whom will I talk to? Who will do all the things you do here?”
“A wife, Freddy. A wife. Not some silly chit that’s splendid to behold for a brief time. For God’s sake, you’ll be bored in a thrice with some debutante on your arm,” Athena said and stood.
“So I should find an ugly girl and marry her forthwith,” Thornsby said.
“As Andrew did, you’re saying,” Athena clipped off.
“No, no,” Thornsby denied.
“I see no beauty when I look in the mirror, Freddy. It hardly matters. Andrew says I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. And I believe he means it,” Athena said. “Perhaps you should look past ringlets and cleavage. Might find someone worthy to fill my shoes around here.”
Thornsby watched his sister march towards the door. She stopped briefly.
“Oh, and Freddy, you simply must straighten out this issue with the Gilbert children. Mrs. Plumsbly’s daughter is granting her more grandchildren any day now. I’ve already told her that she may take as much time as she needs to attend her daughter.” Athena smiled and pulled the door closed on her brother’s sputtering.
* * *
“Oysters?” Matilda said weakly.
“Crate of it at a most expedient price. Couldn’t pass is up,” Fran Sheldon replied.
Matilda and her father were inspecting the boxes stacked in the cold room behind the kitchens of Maplewood. “I doubt these children will have much taste for oysters.” She looked up at her father’s face. His enthusiasm was dwindling. “But The Sheldon Home for Children is most grateful for your contribution.”
“And there are sacks of flour and sugar. Potatoes. Jarred fruit,” Fran Sheldon said with a wide smile. “Cook helped with the list I took to the grocers. Can’t buy fresh goods till your little ones are in and settled.”
Whenever the Sheldon family’s eagerness waned, Matilda mentioned the name of the orphanage, and undoubtedly, they rallied. “You went to the market yourself?” Matilda asked.
“Never seen anything like it. Franklin and I spent the whole day there. They sell everything, I tell you, Matilda. Everything,” Fran said enthusiastically.
Matilda nodded weakly. She wondered if her father believed their household supplies appeared magically in the pantry. “Imagine that,” Matilda said. She heard her mother calling her father’s name.
“Fran, dear?”
“Right here, darling,” Fran called from the door.
Frances Sheldon stepped into the cool room. “You simply must take me to the booksellers this instant, my dear.”
“Certainly, dear,” Fran Sheldon replied. “You wish to purchase a book?”
“I’m in a dreadful pickle, Fran.” Francis turned to her daughter. “Oh Matilda, I didn’t see you there.”
“A pickle, Mother?” Matilda asked.
“Are we having company, my dear?” Francis asked as she surveyed the stacked boxes.
“Company? Not on my schedule, I don’t believe. James usually alerts me to that sort of thing. Why do you ask?” Fran said.
“The store room is quite full,” Francis replied. “I don’t have guests on my schedule either. I wonder what Cook was thinking?”
Fran Sheldon laughed and touched his wife’s arm. “These are supplies for Matilda’s orphanage, my dear. Franklin and I spent the entire day yesterday at the markets. I simply must take you there.”
“The markets?” Francis asked. “What all do they sell?”
Matil
da clapped her hands together, and her parents turned.
“Yes, dear,” they said in unison.
“A pickle, Mother?” Matilda asked. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Didn’t get pickles, Matilda,” Fran said. “No room in the barouche for a barrel.”
“Mother. You said when you walked in here you had to get to the booksellers. You said you were in a pickle.”
Fran and Frances looked at each other and laughed. “A pickle?” her father said. “You didn’t get any,” her mother replied.
Matilda’s eye twitched. “Is there something Father or I could help you with?”
Frances Sheldon stared at her daughter. The light of recognition shone moments later. “Dreadful situation, dear. Your father simply must take me to the booksellers.”
“What do you need at the bookseller, Mother?” Matilda asked.
“Books, I would wager,” Fran Sheldon replied.
Frances laid a hand on her husband’s cheek and smiled. “So very clever you are, Fran. That is exactly what I need. It’s as if you can read my mind.”
“We have an extensive library, Mother,” Matilda said. Although she privately wondered if her mother had ever ventured into that room of the house.
“I know, dear,” Frances said to Matilda. “I was there this very morning.”
Matilda waited for her mother to continue. She did not. “What were you looking for in the library? Perhaps I can help,” Matilda said.
“Why primers of course,” Frances said. “And we simply must purchase the new registry.”
What did Frances Sheldon need with an updated list of titled personage? She could quote family histories of nearly every duke and earl verbatim. Before Matilda could ask, Frances swept her husband’s arm into hers and pulled him to the door.
“The registry I used to tutor the girls is long out-dated. And, of course, I will need primers to teach the orphans how to read the registry,” Frances said.
“New primers you may need mother but a new registry will hardly be necessary for the children,” Matilda said as she followed her parents into the hallway.
“Of course I need a new registry.” Frances pulled her husband along. “The one I have says the Duke of Bancroft is Harold Raymond. Everyone knows Harold is dead.”
“No,” Francis Sheldon said in shock. “Arthur’s been Duke for years.”
Matilda followed her parents towards the entrance of Maplewood. Her mother had already called for the carriage. They turned, kissed Matilda, and swept out the door arm in arm. Her father called over his shoulder.
“Going to the booksellers, Matilda,” he said. “May miss tea.”
Chapter Seven
Thornsby sat behind his desk busy not paying attention to the papers he shuffled. Athena was married. Married! On their honeymoon! He growled thinking about the fact that Andrew and Athena had left him. Thornsby raised his head to a knock at the door.
“Come in!”
Withrow appeared. “Your Grace? Lady Athena, pardon, sir, Mrs. Smithly left me instructions for you to meet your charges. As they are recently bathed, I believe this is the most fortuitous opportunity for you.”
“Charges?” Thornsby asked.
“Your charges.” Withrow withdrew and returned with a hand on the shoulder of two children. “Jonah and Alice Gilbert.”
Thornsby’s heart sank. The Gilbert children were now, in fact, his responsibility courtesy his sister Athena’s interference. He looked up at Withrow. “Have we managed to contact any relatives?”
“There are no relatives,” Withrow said.
“None at all?” Thornsby asked.
“Martha Gilbert was an only child. As you know her parents are long dead,” Withrow replied.
“The father’s family, perhaps?” Thornsby plied.
Withrow escorted the children into the hall. He stared mutely at his employer when he returned.
“What?” Thornsby asked.
“The father was a gadabout. One of the staff believes he may have been from Dublin, but no one really knows,” Withrow replied.
“And you did not wish to discuss this in front of the Gilbert children?” Thornsby asked.
Withrow pursed his lips and shook his head.
“You have more to say, I’m sure of it,” Thornsby said. “Out with it.”
“Not my place to judge, Your Grace.”
Thornsby looked at Withrow. The man had been with his family since before he was born. Athena often remarked that Withrow had appointed himself as the moral guardian of the Wilcox family when the late Duke and Duchess passed.
“It is quite apparent from the sour look on your face you have already passed judgment. What have I done now?” Thornsby asked.
“Seeing that the Gilbert children recently lost their mother and they undoubtedly don’t remember their father, I don’t believe it is necessary to remind them of their solitude. They are quite alone in the world and grieving.” Withrow drew himself up to his full six feet. “And have questions Mrs. Plumsbly and I are unable to answer.”
“What kind of questions, Withrow?”
“The kind that only a guardian can answer, Your Grace.”
Withrow had managed to deliver a stern lecture without raising his voice. And it was, indeed, a set down. He’d been off worrying about his inheritance and wandering about town without the least thought for the two children standing outside of his door even though they, through no action of his own, were his responsibility.
“Bring them in, Withrow.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Withrow returned with his hand on a shoulder of each child. The butler leaned close to the children and spoke quietly. He turned to leave with a nod to Jonah and Alice Gilbert.
Thornsby surveyed the Gilbert children. They seemed small on the other side of his desk and frightened as well. He stood and both children took a step back.
“Now, now. No need to be afraid. I am the Duke of Thornsby and your guardian as well. I’m going to see to it that you are well taken care of.”
“Mrs. Plumsbly’s been doing just fine,” Alice said.
Thornsby’s brows rose. Seemed as though Withrow wasn’t the only one in the household that found his absence lacking. “I’m sure she has. But she has left to attend her . . .”
“Mr. Withrow watched us since she left,” Alice interrupted.
Thornsby cocked his head. “How old are you Alice?”
“Eight.”
“And you, young man?” Thornsby asked.
The chubby boy held up five fingers. “My birthday is coming soon.”
“Is it? How very nice, Jonah.” The Gilbert children were staring at him. He really hadn’t any notion of what he was to do or say.
“I can help in the kitchens sir,” Alice said.
“I imagine you could, Alice.”
“And tend the fires,” Alice added.
“I don’t employ children,” Thornsby said firmly. He smiled his friendliest smile. “I must decide what direction your future will take.”
“Where will you send us, sir?” Alice asked. She held her head high and pulled her brother tight against her side.
Thornsby sat on the edge of his desk. What did one do with children who had no mother or father? Orphans. An orphanage, that’s where! And he happened to know of one being built this very instant.
“Children! I know of an orphanage that will be the perfect place for you,” Thornsby said. He wondered silently if Matilda Sheldon would slam the door in his face. Certainly the woman wouldn’t turn away two homeless children. “I’ll make arrangements for you two to see it this week.”
Alice led her brother from the room. Thornsby was congratulating himself for his quick thinking. If he had to face the Sheldon woman, so be it. Wasn’t such a bad face after all. His head came up to a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Thornsby called.
“Your Grace. I was wondering if you would mind if I asked Cook to pack some fruit and chee
se for the Gilbert children to take with them,” Withrow asked.
“Where are they going?” Thornsby asked as he stood. “Too late to call on the orphanage now.”
Withrow left the door to his study open and walked away. Thornsby imagined that was his cue to follow. In the entranceway of his home Alice Gilbert struggled with the ornate knob to the front door and a sack over her shoulder. Jonah stood at her side.
“Where are you going?” Thornsby called. “What are you carrying there?”
“Just Jonah and my spare clothes and a book of my mothers. Nothing of yours, sir,” Alice Gilbert replied.
“But where are you going with your spare clothes?” He eyed the cloth sack over the girls’ shoulder. Apparently it held all their worldly possessions.
Alice dropped her hand from the door and held her brother’s shoulder. “We’re not going to an orphanage. And you won’t let me work here. We’ll make our way on our own.”
“Withrow! Whatever does she mean?”
“Miss Gilbert has been informed by her late mother that most orphanages split siblings up. Those that can be apprenticed out and those only old enough to work inside of the orphanage. She has no intention of being separated from her brother,” Withrow replied.
“And if you don’t let me earn my keep here, there’s no way for me to get food and clothes,” the girl added, lips trembling.
Alice Gilbert at that moment had a remarkable resemblance to his sister Athena. Not in looks, perhaps, but in the set of her chin and with the will of her words. And Thornsby did not doubt for one second that Athena would not have let her younger brother be separated from her in the same circumstances. Thornsby felt small and cruel and knew he had handled these children in a thoughtless manner. They were alone in the world, and he’d done nothing to reassure them. He walked to them and bent down on one knee.
“Listen to me, children,” Thornsby said as he laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “You will not be split up. Ever. You will not have to worry about food and clothes.”
