The Earl of Ice

by Helen A. Grant

  “Then our love for our son will grow even stronger,” Rollo replied without hesitation.

  His answer could not have pleased Diana more. The sickening fear that she had lived with ever since she had realized she was with child lifted. She knew that whatever challenges lay ahead they would face them together.

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Beloved Guardian

  by Helen A. Grant

  Available in 2017

  Chapter 1

  Miss Pritchard's Academy For Girls, York, England, 1820

  Marianne Granger sat perched on the edge of her bed in the small dormitory. Her bag was packed and her cloak and gloves were lying on the bed beside her. She was waiting, nervously, for the carriage which would take her to a new, unknown and grown-up phase in her life.

  She had been a boarding pupil at Miss Pritchard’s Academy for girls in York for the last five years and now at nearly sixteen it was time for her to leave. She would be very sorry to go and she knew she would sadly miss the security and sense of belonging that the school had given her. She had been happy at the Academy and Tante Marie-Claire, the house mistress for the boarding girls, had been like a mother to her.

  Marianne lifted her small, pointed chin and straightened her shoulders; she was determined to think about her future life in positive terms. Tante Marie-Clare said that her guardian, Viscount Edward Granger, must be a very fine and kind gentleman to take on the responsibility for her following the death of his own father, her original guardian. Marianne was less sure. Why had he never even written to her? Her parents had placed her at the Academy when she was but nine years-old because they had been called on to undertake missionary work in a small country in Africa. They had visited her once when she was ten when they were on a brief visit back to England before setting off on their travels again. She remembered how she had pleaded with them not to leave her, to take her with them. But they said the life in Africa was not suitable for a child. Marianne had been terribly disappointed. She had day-dreamed of exploring wild, dangerous places, and encountering the exotic animals she loved to read about. She chaffed for some kind of adventure to relieve the humdrum existence of schoolwork and lady-like past-times such as needlepoint—at which she was dreadful—and artwork—so tedious—that she had to endure. She treasured the occasional gifts from her parents of small animals carved in wood or smooth ivory and wove fantasies around what she would do or say if she happened to run into such animals in the bush. She was certain if she came upon a lion she would be able to scramble up a tree before he could pounce on her. She didn’t think lions could climb trees. Every night she fell asleep with her favourite animal, a small wooden rhinoceros next to her pillow.

  But as the years went by the gifts stopped arriving. Marianne made friends and though the dreams of adventure never quite died, she settled into life at the school.

  When Marianne was thirteen she was told that both her parents had died of a tropical fever. She had been very upset at the time but, looking back, their deaths had caused her life to change very little. They had left enough money for her to continue her education and Viscount Bernard Granger, who was her father’s cousin, had been appointed her guardian. Uncle Bernard and his wife, Aunt Mary, as they asked to be called, had sent her a small gift on her fourteenth birthday and had visited her very briefly on one other occasion but otherwise had shown little interest in her. School holidays were spent with friends or at the Academy where she remained and helped Tante Marie-Claire.

  Then suddenly, out of the blue, just before her fifteenth birthday she was sent word that Uncle Bernard had died of a heart attack and that his eldest son, Edward, had taken over her guardianship. Once again nothing had immediately changed for her and she had happily remained at Miss Pritchard’s Academy. Marianne had hoped that when she reached her sixteenth birthday, and was no longer eligible to stay at the school as a pupil, she may be allowed to stay on and help with teaching the younger children. She had never met Edward who was now Viscount Granger and was therefore extremely surprised when the headmistress called her into the office shortly before her sixteenth birthday and informed her that she was to live with the Viscount and his mother, Aunt Mary, at their home, Granger Hall. Granger Hall she knew was just outside York, near Askern Bryan, less than twenty miles from the school, but she had never been there.

  “Well, Marianne,” Miss Pritchard looked at her kindly over the rims of her spectacles, “it seems we are going to lose you after all. But this is a wonderful opportunity for you. I do hope you appreciate it.”

  Marianne’s heart ached at the thought of leaving the only place and people that she knew and cared about. But Miss Pritchard was right. Living with a Viscount in a mansion, with probably a stable full of horses she would ride, would be a grand adventure—even though it was a little frightening to step into the unknown. “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied. “I do recall Aunt Mary being very nice when I met her, so I am sure everything will be for the best.”

  So, here she was, sitting on the bed waiting to be taken to live in a house she had never seen and with people she did not really know. A faint knock at the door startled her but she relaxed and smiled as Tante Marie-Claire glided into the room.

  “Ze carriage it iz ‘ere for you ma chere. Vite. Vite. It iz waiting”

  “Has my Aunt Mary come to collect me?” Marianne wanted to prepare herself for the meeting.

  “I am afraid, non. Ze carriage ‘as been sent and a maid and footman are to accompany you to ze hall… Come, ma petite all will be well. Your Aunt Mary will be waiting for you at ze Granger Hall.” Tante Marie-Clare took hold of Marianne’s small hand and gave her a gentle pull. As Marianne rose to her feet, her slender form was enveloped in the older woman’s arms and pulled into her ample bosom, a place where, over the years, she had sort and received comfort many times.

  Marianne returned Tante Marie-Clare’s hug and fought to keep the tears from her eyes as it suddenly hit her that this was goodbye. Marie Clare eventually released her and gently pushed her toward the door.

  Miss Pritchard and Marie-Claire walked out with her to the driveway where the carriage was waiting. Marianne’s cornflower blue eyes widened as she saw the splendid town carriage with the Granger coat of arms emblazoned on the side. The footman helped her into the carriage and a young maid took up a seat opposite her. The comfortably padded upholstery inside the carriage was luxurious; hot bricks were provided for her feet and the maid handed her a thick travelling rug.

  “This will keep you warm, Miss Granger. My name is Daisy and I am to be your personal maid. I ‘ope I will please you, but please be patient because I ’ave only ever helped Lady Mary’s maid up to now.”

  The maid, although more well rounded, looked no older than Marianne herself. Her plump cheeks were flushed and she seemed anxious. Marianne immediately reassured her.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Daisy,” she said kindly. “I have never had a personal maid before so we will learn together. Have you worked at Granger Hall for many years?”

  Daisy smiled widely causing dimples to appear in her cheeks. “Oh, yes Miss. I have been there for almost six years—since I was ten and I have worked my way up from the kitchens.”

  “You must be very proud of yourself and I hope that I will not be an over taxing mistress. Pray can you tell me how long it will take us to reach Granger Hall?”

  “Oh, since the roads are clear,” Daisy said after appearing to give the matter some thought, “by this evening I should think”.

  Marianne settled back to enjoy the journey. She would have loved to question Daisy further about Granger Hall and its inhabitants but realized that this would not be appropriate. She knew from her father that the Granger Estate was quite sizable and that the new Hall had been built by the present Viscount’s great grandfather who was also Marianne’s great grandfather.

  They made one stop along the way for refreshments and to change horses. As the journey progressed, Marianne became less relaxe
d and increasingly nervous at the thought of meeting her relatives. She had been surprised when they had offered her a home and she fervently hoped she would not prove to be a disappointment or a burden to them. She was unsure if her parents had left her any money that had not already been spent on school fees. She wondered if she was indeed being welcomed as a relative or a poor relation dependant on their financial support with no dowry and little hope of marrying. Why hadn’t she asked Miss Pritchard or even her guardian about the state of her affairs? Well, it was too late now. She would remedy this uncertain situation the first chance she got.

  Marianne was jolted out of her thoughts by Daisy. “Now, Miss, we are almost there. We have just entered the grounds of the estate and you will soon be able to see the Hall.”

  Marianne looked out of the window as they drove down a splendid tree-lined drive. Eventually she saw the Hall come into view. It was a magnificent stone-built structure and the pale stone seemed to shimmer giving it an almost fairy-tale quality. The carriage pulled up into the large circular driveway in front of the Hall and stopped in front of the wide stone steps that led up to the front door. No one was waiting to greet her. The footman opened the carriage door, dropped the steps and helped her alight.

  Marianne had butterflies in her stomach as she began to climb the stairs to the massive front doors. Daisy followed behind her, ineffectually trying to brush the creases out of her skirt with her hands. When they were about half way up the stairs the front door suddenly opened and a tall, uniformed man stood at the opening.

  “That is William Smithson, the butler,” Daisy whispered to her.

  Smithson bowed formally as he held the door open wider to admit her into the spacious, two-storied entrance hall tiled with black and white marble squares. “Daisy take Miss Granger’s cloak and check that the fire is lit in her room,” he ordered crisply. Then bowing slightly to Marianne, “Miss Granger, please follow me. Lord Granger is waiting for you in the drawing room.” Smithson’s voice, not loud but clear, sounded as if he was a man used to having his orders obeyed and Daisy scurried to do his bidding.

  Marianne, also, did as she had been bid and soon found herself facing Viscount Edward Granger, who rose from a deep armchair to greet her as she entered the room. Her first thought was: he is much younger than I thought!

  “Miss Granger. My Lord,” Smithson announced. Not a hair on his grey head falling out of place when he bowed low as he left the room, leaving the young girl alone with his master.

  Marianne was very self-conscious as her guardian slowly looked her up and down. Although she had dressed in her second best day gown she knew that with its muted grey floral fabric and high neckline it was dowdy and old fashioned. She felt as if she had been appraised and been found wanting and she knew she must be blushing a most unseemly red as she could feel her cheeks burning. She bit her bottom lip, squared her thin shoulders and, ignoring the impulse to turn tail and run back to the Academy, stood her ground. She tried not to feel pinned to the carpet by her guardian’s surprisingly crystal clear blue eyes.

  Lord Granger was immaculately attired in a very fashionable dark brown jacket over matching long trousers, a green silk waistcoat, a brilliant white shirt with a high collar and a neck tie fastened in a most complicated style. He was tall, at least a good foot taller than she was, which made him seem to tower over her five feet two inches. With his chiselled cheekbones, aristocratic nose and somewhat shaggy, shoulder length blond hair, he was a strikingly handsome man.

  His deep voice broke into her silent appraisal. “As you are aware, I am the son of your late father’s cousin and now I find I am also your guardian. Please sit.” He indicated a plush upholstered chair and after she sat down, took a seat opposite her.

  “I am pleased to meet you, my Lord,” Marianne said, “and I would like to tell you how grateful I am for being offered a home at Granger Hall.” She had been rehearsing what she was going to say and so managed not to stutter even though she felt very nervous. She had not expected him to be so young nor so intimidatingly good looking. She had also expected her Aunt would have been here to greet her.

  Viscount Granger must have sensed her unspoken question. “I am afraid my mother is indisposed at the moment. She has been suffering with poor health and strained nerves since the death of my father. She sends her apologies for not being able to welcome you to Granger Hall.”

  Marianne was immediately concerned. “I trust she is not too ill.”

  “I am optimistic that she will be well enough to join us for dinner,” the Viscount hastened to relieve her concern. ” She is looking forward to meeting you and is hoping you will provide company for her as she rarely leaves the house these days.”

  Looking at his stern face it seemed to Marianne that the Viscount was not happy at having been left with the task of greeting her so she thought it would be prudent to take her leave of him as soon as she could. “I was sorry to hear of the death of your father and I hope that your mother’s health improves with time.” When this elicited no response she continued in a rush, “I am somewhat tired and grimy after my journey. It has been a long day and I did not get much sleep last night and could not get much rest in the carriage, although it was a very comfortable carriage”—good Lord she was beginning to babble, “so would it be possible for me to go to my room to freshen up?”

  “Of course, I will ring for your maid to show you to the room my mother has allocated for you. I will expect you to take meals with the family. Dinner is at eight o’clock sharp.”

  Edward stood and pulled the bell for the maid as he spoke. Marianne jumped to her feet. She was grateful to get the interview over with and escape when Daisy appeared. Glancing back as she walked toward the door she thought her guardian looked as though he was also relieved.

  When Marianne followed Daisy into the room that was to be her bedroom, despite Daisy’s chatter, she was rendered speechless. The room was enormous and a large four-poster bed with gold coloured satin drapes dominated. A fire burned in the hearth giving a warm glow to the sumptuous, cream and gold damask wallpaper covering the walls. She slowly walked across to the windows and found that she had a magnificent view over the formal gardens to the rear of the Hall. In front of one of the two double windows was a small, mahogany writing desk and matching chair. A large, comfortable leather chair had been placed in front of the fire. Turning, she went through a door that led to a small dressing room in which her trunk had been placed. The trunk was open and she could see that Daisy was already busy unpacking and hanging up her modest gowns.

  At the Academy, Marianne had shared a small dormitory with three other girls and, other than in the holidays when the other girls went home, she had had little privacy. Her earlier concerns that her relatives would treat her as a poor relation, to her relief, now seemed unfounded. Her bedroom was absolutely beautiful. She had never seen anything as grand.

  “Daisy, what gown do you think I should wear for dinner?” Marianne, looking over the meagre selection she had to choose from, was uncertain which to pick.

  “As far as I know, Miss Granger, only family are dining so the meal will be quite informal. I think that the blue gown may be the best choice.”

  “But Daisy, that is my best gown!” Marianne cried. She did not want to waste her best gown on a family dinner. She only wore it on special occasions.

  Daisy, however, insisted. “That’s as may be, Miss, but you asked my opinion and I really do think the other gowns I unpacked look more like day dresses. You will find that Lady Granger always dresses for dinner.”

  “I will take your advice then and wear the blue,” Marianne reluctantly relented. “I do not want my Aunt to think I do not know how to dress appropriately.” Inwardly Marianne fretted because she knew that none of her dresses were the height of fashion. In fact most of the gowns she had were hand-me-downs from other girls at the Academy who had grown out of them. Unlike most of her contemporaries, Marianne’s boyish body was as yet showing little signs of
maturing, and the style of her dresses, by necessity, remained as those a younger miss would wear.

  After helping her into the blue gown Daisy brushed her long blonde hair until it shone and pulled it off her face into a pony tail which almost reached her waist. Marianne looking in the mirror and was glad she had taken Daisy’s advice because she knew that the pale blue dress reflected the blue of her eyes and showed her to good advantage. The dress was a very respectable floor length gown that actually reached the floor (some of her dresses no longer did this after a recent growth spurt), it had short, puffed sleeves and a round high neckline. What made the gown special was the length of matching blue silk gauze that tied around her narrow waist in a large bow at the back with the ends of the material almost reaching the floor.

  Just before eight o’ clock she followed Daisy who took her into the dining room where Viscount Granger was already seated at the head of the table. He stood when she entered and the footman pulled out the chair to his left indicating where she should sit.

  Miriam smiled at him as she sat down but received no answering smile from the Viscount but a curt nod. She looked around at the long table, which she estimated would seat at least thirty people comfortably. Only three places were set for the meal at one end of the table and these had a dazzling array of cutlery that she would have to navigate her way through. Miriam knew that she did not lack good table manners but worried that she may be a little out of her depth here.

  Edward did not attempt to break the silence. He sat straight backed, his dark jacket contrasting with his fair hair which, this evening, was tied back with a small black ribbon. He appeared to be studying the empty wine glass in front of him.

  Becoming uncomfortable with the silence and being mindful that a young lady was expected to exhibit some social skills in initiating polite conversation, Marianne eventually ventured up the courage to address him.