by Lisa Prysock
It was decided Maxwell would accompany them on the tour. He pranced his way through each room, his tail held high. Kingston led her directly from the table into the connecting Music Room first. There, a harp shaped piano occupied a large portion of the room. A window allowed the daylight to stream into the room. Elegant chairs with cushions of mint green and gold pin striping grouped about the room made for a pleasant scene. A violin beckoned from a wooden stand beside the fireplace. They left the Music Room, crossing back through the blue Dining Room out into the hall and through the foyer, entering the Drawing Room where they had been served tea after dinner the night before. Beyond the Drawing Room, he led her through another set of double doors into the Ball Room, also with a great fireplace and hearth at one end as in the Drawing Room. French doors led to a side veranda with ornate stone railings.
Down the main hall, they turned left toward the library again, but this time he introduced her to the Sitting Room, an informal parlor the former Duchess used to favor. “The Duchess, my mother, used to sit at this writing desk. She would manage the household from here. Our cook brought her menus and shopping lists to approve. Alton brought her daily correspondence here. She would write to her friends and invite them with their husbands and children to visit. As you see, they have all sent their daughters to comfort my sisters for part of the holiday.”
“Perhaps this is an excellent tradition to continue from time to time,” Winnie replied softly.
Since she had already visited the library, they crossed the hall into a Conservatory with windows all around. Lovely benches and garden chairs provided seating throughout the ordinarily sunny room. The room was a bit chilly since there was no fireplace in the Conservatory and the sun wasn’t bright enough to offer much warmth for a snowy mid-December. There was however, a new wood burning stove.
“My father had this part of the house transformed to house plants and flowers. Mother loved flowers.” He led her to the farthest end of the Conservatory where a long bench sat under the windows and four chairs with end tables between them faced the windows. They were facing north. He turned her shoulders to the west and directed her gaze out at the view. “If you stand here and look out in that direction, you can see the stone chapel one of my great-grandfathers added to Hillbrook Hall.”
“’Tis beautiful!” she breathed. “I particularly like the stained glass windows.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled, the wrinkle lines at his eyes looking handsome in the light. “Those survived the Puritan Reformation. One of my grandmothers had them imported from France. My great-grandmother saved them from being destroyed by Cromwell supporters by having them covered for a time, though much of my family agreed with many Puritan ideals.”
“Just not the smashing of beautiful windows built to honor Christ,” she reiterated in a coy tone.
“Exactly, mon chére!” he cajoled.
Catherine learned that they shared a few favorite flowers which included Plumeria, Jasmine, Hydrangea, Lily of the Valley, and Foxglove. He led her through the containers of strawberry plants, tomatoes, carrots, radish, and onions. Next, they passed through a table with herb boxes of parsley, dill, thyme, and basil; then back across the main hall at the back of the house and on to the kitchen where she was introduced to Mrs. Polly Childers and the scullery maid, Hattie.
“Welcome tuh Hillbrook Hall, Miss Lyndon,” Polly said as she tossed a potato peel toward Max. While Max gobbled his treat up, Winnie surveyed the prominent kitchen features. A large stone fireplace was the dominant feature on the wall opposite the entrance. Wood cupboards lined two of the walls. Hattie, who nodded in her direction at introduction, stood at a long, wooden preparation table, waist high in the center of the kitchen, chopping vegetables. The familiar smell of a hearty beef stew greeted them, gently bubbling in a hanging kettle over the open fire. The stew would probably feed the servants later that night Winnie guessed as Polly seemed to be working from a list containing an elaborate menu for the coming Dinner Party.
“Thank you, Mrs. Childers. Dinner last night was delicious… a feast fit for a king!” Winnie remarked.
Polly Childers beamed from the complement. “We haven’t served nay… not a single King at Hillbrook Hall that I can recall, but we have served a prince o’ the realm, many Lords, an’ a few dignitaries in my day. Hattie, will you be takin’ the apple pies out o’ the oven a’fore the house burneth to the ground?”
“Aye! Drat! I fergots me wits! I be right at it, Mrs. Childers!” Hattie’s mouth dropped open after Polly Childers scolded. She wiped her hands on her work apron, swiped a thick cloth, and scurried toward the oven doors in the wall beside the fireplace to do cook’s bidding.
“Keep up the good work Mrs. Childers and Hattie,” Kingston said as he opened a door that led from the kitchen into the Servant’s Hall, instantly causing all of the footmen to rise from their breakfast and stand at attention with respect. Here, she learned that Frank was Alton’s first name. As the butler, he stood at the head of the table opposite the housekeeper, Mrs. Glenwood. The other footmen were Jared Scott, Nathaniel Benson, and Caleb Carlisle, seated across from the house maids Bernice and Laura, and Beatrice, Ladies’ Maid to Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Josephine. Each nodded warmly in her direction. After a brief exchange of greeting mainly between Alton and Kingston, he led her through a back door that opened into the hallway opposite the Ball Room. They walked down the hallway toward the middle of the house, turned left onto the main hall, and proceeded toward the foyer at the main entrance where the staircase would take them to the second floor.
Max had no trouble trotting up the staircase and bounded on ahead of them, his tail wagging at the top where he waited for them. They landed in an upstairs foyer with a large window that let in the morning light. Circling around to the hall on the right of the staircase, Max led the way down that hall to the School Room. She observed shelves of books, a chalk board the length of one wall, a teacher’s desk on a platform before the chalk board, and two rows of desks filling the remainder of the room. Three windows along the far wall of the front of the house let in ample light.
“Were you instructed at home by a tutor in this very room?” she inquired as she walked among the desks, noticing his face seemed to observe the room with memories she couldn’t see.
“Aye,” he nodded. “I was tutored here until age thirteen. Then I studied for a year at Eton, but I hated it so much that Mother insisted Father bring me home again to study under a private tutor to prepare for college the following two years. At seventeen, I studied at Cambridge until I obtained my Baccalaureate in Divinity, coming home only for holidays and summers. At twenty-one, Mother wanted me to have a ‘Grand Tour of Europe,’ as they call it, but Father won that battle and insisted I enroll at Royal Military College for two years.”
“Why would your father want you to be in the military?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Although it is necessary and admirable, ‘tis so dangerous for an only son…”
“That was Mother’s argument, but Father saw Bonaparte’s rise to power as a very real threat to England. He felt it our duty and I think something else…“ He paused. “I think he wanted me to have the adventure of a lifetime, the one he never had, I suppose. I was commissioned a Lieutenant Colonel at twenty-three and eventually, my regiment wound up fighting in the Battle of Vimiero. We were victorious by August of 1808. I was home by that December of 1808, age twenty-five… with nothing to do but follow my father around learning more about the estate. A month later, I turned twenty-six. I felt strangely out of place to not be studying away at college or fighting in a war to defend my country. I was at home, with no idea it would be my last full year with my parents, on this side of heaven.”
She listened with avid interest to all that he shared. “The good Lord was watching over you, and I, a loyal subject of the Crown, am deeply indebted to your service on behalf of our beloved England.”
He offered a slight bow of his head as a response.
“So you
are age twenty-seven today, and in January, you will be twenty-eight? On what day?” she asked.
“January twenty-eighth,” he responded. “Pray, do not remind me… I have a matrimonial issue to resolve long before that day. How old are you?”
“I am nineteen and one year.”
“Twenty years old? On what day?”
“In May, the twenty-seventh,” she answered. “I was privately tutored also and graduated at seventeen. I applied at both Oxford and Cambridge. Sadly, I was turned down. There isn’t a single female accepted at either university.”
“Faith! You applied at Oxford and Cambridge?” he repeated with a chuckle that matched his surprise. “You’ve far more spunk than I thought!”
“Thank you,” she replied with a smile, pulling her shawl closer for warmth.
“That is very disturbing… I mean that there are no females students among our best universities.”
“You meant to say, how very dark ages, in addition to disturbing,” she corrected staunchly.
He nodded as they exited the school room and she continued her debate over women’s educational rights. “I realize some might frown and refer to me as a bluestocking for reading and studying as I do, but it is tremendous ignorance and an outrage that withholds a woman from a right to a formal education. It’s like an eclipse of the sun behind which hides knowledge and power.”
Another hall led to a cloister of bedrooms. Here he pointed out Lady Anne-Marie’s room, Lady Amiée-Josephine’s room, the Blue Room, and then the Yellow Room. They returned to the foyer and crossed to the Morning Room. This upstairs sitting room in the front, center of the house had a double window overlooking the front columned veranda and circular drive with the fountain. Beside this room, Kingston and Max showed her the long Gallery which contained most of their ancestral portraits. He pointed out the portraits of his parents, lingering with a longing that registered the grief she knew he yet grappled.
Next to the Gallery, he led her briefly through the bedroom that had belonged to the Duchess, and then his own room, which she learned had been his father’s room, connecting to the boudoir of the Duchess. She was glad to discover the house maids, Laura and Bernice, ducking in and out of the bedrooms building the morning fires as she toured them. Winnie learned that her room was directly across from the Duke’s, providing her with a fit of coughing. She did enjoy peering out the windows to a view of the Chapel on the grounds of the garden. Finally, Kingston pointed out the Violet Room, Gold Room, and Green Room, but she wasn’t able to look inside them as they were occupied. Guests were beginning to rise and dress for the day. The maids, along with several she did not recognize, were scurrying about with freshly laundered and pressed garments, disappearing behind closed doors to assist the guests.
The house had a pleasing Georgian symmetry with six pillars and eight windows across the front, and above, three windows each to the right and left of the large picture window. Her room faced the rear of the house and the gardens. The stables and barns were on the opposite end, the chapel on the end nearest her room. She learned that the female staff slept in quarters on the third floor, and male staff above the stables.
“We are completely full,” he said, concluding the tour at the upstairs foyer. “Not an empty bedroom in all of Hillbrook Hall except at the Dowager House. After tonight, those will soon be full as well.”
“’Tis probably as it should be,” she responded. “Your mother would most likely approve of a full house for the holidays. It would be a shame to let these beautiful rooms go to waste.”
“I hadn’t thought of it in that respect before,” he admitted pensively.
“When do your guests return home?” she asked gingerly.
“They return after our Annual Christmas Ball or soon after Christmas Day.”
“I shall pray for good weather,” she whispered teasingly.
“But then we won’t have any guests at our wedding!”
“I shan’t marry you, my Lord. I would make a terrible Duchess with my ambitions. I am going to be a philanthropist, writer, maybe a teacher… and a world traveler!” she declared. “I am far from ideal marriageable material. Furthermore, I do not have an inclination or desire to marry.”
Grinning at her excuses, Kingston opened his pocket watch, looked at the time, and snapped it shut. He put one hand on the wall next to her shoulder, trapping her close against the wall. “It’s only about ten o’clock in the morning, day two of your arrival, Miss Catherine Edwina Lyndon. Give it time.”
“You, my Lord, are hopelessly, furiously incorrigible!” Winnie laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. She ducked under his arm before he could react and fled to her room, laughing at the utter look of shock on his face as she did so. Maxwell pursued, but the head start she had didn’t allow him to catch up with her.
Psalm 136: 21-22, KJV
21 And gave their land for an heritage: for His mercy endureth forever: 22 Even an heritage unto Israel His servant: for His mercy endureth forever.
Chapter 4
The Abbey of Saint Mary de la Pré
A footman from Hillbrook Hall was dispatched at ten o’clock with a message to notify the inhabitants of the abbey that the party would be arriving at about one o’clock in the afternoon and to confirm the number of guests to be expected. They had hoped for a sooner start, but there had been one delay after another. Aggie, or Lady Agnes, needed more time to rest. Lady Mary needed a minor repair in a garment and insisted she would only wear that particular garment. Miss Cordelia Higgens had a fainting spell that alarmed everyone, but after some rest was determined to see the abbey. Lady Myriah could not locate her fur muff and went on a search. Lady Margaret wanted to remain behind to read a book but then changed her mind. This caused a delay whilst she changed from morning attire to afternoon dress. At about a quarter past noon, the main hall, staircase, and foyer were abuzz with the chatter of ladies. They were coming and going along with their maids, who were mostly in a frenzied state.
Finally they were assembled in the foyer except for Kingston. For some odd reason, Catherine felt her heart sink that the Duke was not present to accompany them to Delapré Abbey. Would he not appear shortly? How would she ever manage as companion in such circumstances with quite so many ladies? Anything, absolutely anything could go wrong. Then she felt mildly better again when Lady Amiée-Jo began to complain.
“Fourteen ladies and one gentleman can indeed not all fit inside two sleighs.”
Perhaps he was to appear at any moment after all. Was she missing him already after spending only a few hours with him?
“Twelve fit comfortably only yesterday, but fourteen will not do,” Lady Anne-Marie insisted. Aggie echoed the sentiment. “We had three to each bench besides the drivers, standing.”
“Have no fear ladies,” Alton said, presiding over the ladies as he handed them scarves, gloves, muffs, and hats like the day before. “The Duke said he would ride in the smaller sleigh with Miss Lyndon. The seating arrangements may be exactly as before.”
There was a moment of astonishment by several ladies, though the rest continued to chat pleasantly after this news. Aggie was staring at her as if she had committed an unpardonable crime, and so did Lady Jane, though a little less intensely. Nonetheless, the heat in their eyes made her uncomfortable. Riding with the Duke had been entirely his idea, not hers. A rush of cold air filled the foyer when the front doors opened and two footmen appeared to assist the party into the sleighs. Aggie continued to stare at Winnie while pulling on her gloves. A peek out the door, and there were indeed three sleighs, the third much smaller; a sleigh meant for two. As the ladies began to pile into the sleighs, Winnie found herself thankful for Alton’s next words.
“There you are, my Lord.” The butler handed Miss Lyndon her leather gloves, scarf, ear muff, and fur muff. He handed Kingston his walking stick, scarf, leather gloves, and a fur hat that covered his ears. They put on the layers of garments with excitement.
“Ready?” Kingston
asked, his eyes twinkling. He looked quite different in a dark brown Cossack’s hat, a forest green scarf, and a black, multi- caped great coat.
“I am,” she replied with a grin as she adjusted the red scarf Mother had crocheted for Christmas a few years ago, her eyes glowing up at him. She tucked the little cloth bag that contained her blue mules under one arm… just in case they stopped in town. She always carried the cloth bag when she went to the market at West Chelmsford. It could hold any number of items or purchases. She might have a chance to ask a shoemaker or cobbler to repair the shoes where Bertha had left pecking marks on the satin.
He guided her out of the doors and into the sleigh with care. “Watch out for ice!” He grasped her elbow firmly to keep her upright. Kingston lifted her easily inside the smaller sleigh as Aggie cast them one last glare before climbing into one of the other sleighs. He didn’t seem to pay Aggie any mind, so Winnie decided she must not let Lady Agnes intimidate her. She felt she must have gained five pounds beneath her cape, pelisse, and fur muffs. He covered them both with two lap blankets and a fur duster, weighing her down further. They placed their feet on the foot warmer as he took the reins in hand. Their sleigh would bring up the rear of the party.
Less than half an hour later they arrived at the abbey and were ushered into the family quarters after removing their wraps. The Duke and Miss Lyndon were announced first, then his sisters, then the others. This time it was Lady Julia and Lady Myriah who tossed her hateful looks as they settled into chairs quite some distance and across from them. The favor she was given as a companion to the Duke’s sisters was quickly driving a wedge between herself and some of the guests of Hillbrook Hall. Aggie seemed distracted with Sir Edward Bouverie as she engaged him in polite conversation about the weather. Some of the ladies gathered close to the fire to warm. Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Jo spoke to Edward’s mother in comforting tones about the many ways in which they were each coping with loss, attempting to begin life anew. They introduced Miss Lyndon as their new companion. She smiled warmly at Catherine and explained that she was just recently out of full mourning.
