“That is true,” Lady Hardigree answered, somewhat lost in thought. “Well, should that come to pass, I cannot do much for her here. However, should Luci come to live with me, over time I think we could improve her situation greatly. There are many causes that rely on my generous patronage, and though tongues might be set in motion at first when she begins to appear in society, there will come a day rather quickly that she is well received simply for being my niece.”
“Do you really think it will help her?” Lady Thornshire asked, clinging to her sister’s arm in desperation.
“That I do. It will take time, and I should think the best we can hope for in a second marriage might be a third or fourth son of meager inheritance, but with Edgar’s fortunes restored, that should not matter. My husband’s nephew, for example, is unmarried as of yet. He is the third son—God help his mother, she had twelve children—and though his fortune will not be vast, he is at least titled and holds property in Austria.”
“Send her away again?” Lord Thornshire moaned, mopping at the sweat that pooled on his forehead. “After all she has been through? Has she not suffered enough?”
“I quite agree, she has,” Lady Hardigree answered as she nodded sadly, causing the plumage on her hat to sway sympathetically. “But I fear it is the only way. There are no prospects for her here now, and she certainly can never return to Ashworth Hall.”
The stableman rode at a fast clip for as long as he dared, lest he risk hurting the horse. He knew not what messages he carried, only that they were placed in his hands personally by the Marquess of Ambergrave. The disheveled man had also pressed a number of coins in his hand and begged him to hurry, and the servant was determined to comply no matter what obstacles lay ahead.
By late day, the man was nearly faint from the rigors of the ride, his coins gone in order to pay a blacksmith for the use of a fresh horse. But he ventured to the rear of Stonefield Park triumphantly and rang the bell, then leaned against the door to wait for someone to permit him to enter.
“I have important correspondence for the Earl, Lord Thornshire,” the servant said, patting the leather satchel that he wore across his chest. “I have ridden from Ashworth Hall at the request of the Marquess of Ambergrave.”
“Come in at once,” the liveried footman said, opening the door wider and admitting the young man to the kitchens. “I’ll send a maid to help Cook prepare something for you straight away.”
The footman smiled as he took the letters from the servant and showed him to a seat. Placing the letters on a tray and passing them off to the butler, he flagged down one of the scullery maids and begged her assistance.
The butler looked at the seal on the outside of the letter as he moved towards the stairs, but he stopped. Looking back at the servant who now enjoyed a mug of fresh milk, he approached and stood close enough to speak to him.
“Where did you get these letters?” the butler asked, pointing to the tray.
“I rode ‘em here myself, sir,” the servant answered before taking the generous slice of bread and roast meat from the maid.
“How could you have? You covered such a great distance in that time?”
“Aye, sir. The master said it was most important, and he paid me handsomely. I even used his money to secure a fresh horse in Danbury.” The poor rider slaked his thirst with another swig of milk, then wiped his mouth and added, “I’m to wait here for a reply, but will ya let me know if there is to be none? I’ll need to ride all night to get back if I’m not to wait.”
“Oh, not at all. We’ll put you in a room here, of course.” The butler turned to the footman and said, “Please prepare a room for…”
“Joseph Early, sir. Employed in Lord Ambergrave’s stables. I race his horses from time to time, so I’m certain it’s why he chose me to come here.” The servant nodded respectfully then continued eating.
Pierson looked down at the letters one last time, then thanked Joseph and hurried upstairs. He sought out Lord Thornshire and found him in his study, knocked soundly, then hurried inside.
“My Lord, there is urgent correspondence from Lord Ambergrave,” the older man said quickly, holding forth the tray. “He sent one of his riders personally to deliver it.”
The Earl looked to his wife, seated across the room and still speaking in whispers with her sister, then tore into the letter. His eyes scanned the page silently, yet he was so taken aback that he forced himself to read it again more slowly before saying anything.
“Dearest? What is it? What’s wrong?” Lady Thornshire said, noticing her husband’s expression and crossing the room to see what was the matter. He held up his hand to prevent her while he continued reading.
Finally, he fell back in his chair, flabbergasted, and looked at her with real tears in his eyes. He held out the letter, knowing that permitting her to read it would do far more good than trying to explain.
“He… he truly believes you had some part in it, then?” Lady Thornshire whispered.
“Apparently so,” he said, defeated.
“But… but the rest is rather hopeful, isn’t it?” she pressed, pointing to the words on the page. “He says he wants to put it behind him and move forward, and conveys his deep love for our daughter.”
“How can I trust him with Luci’s affections? He blatantly stated—in my own house, no less, and seated at my table—that he only sought her hand in an effort to bring pain and potential ruin to our family. Never mind his dealings with my business and his success at sending me into poverty, of course.” Lord Thornshire bit nervously at his fingernail, unable to decide the proper course.
“Those things may be true, Edgar,” Lady Thornshire said sweetly, kneeling beside her husband’s chair, “but if we are not able to trust that he has changed his ways, then we would be preventing Luci’s own happiness as well. Could you wish that for her after all she’s endured?”
“Could you trust her life to a man who has proven twice that he has no qualms about the worst of deeds?” the Earl asked.
“I find that I may have to,” she answered. “After all, in the face of no good decision, I might as well trust in one that seems to lead to the least harm.”
Lady Thornshire pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek and started to rise, but he took her hand and held it. He looked away, but continued to cling to her in a way that spoke of his need for her.
She smiled adoringly and returned to sit by Lady Hardigree, but called back softly, “It will be all right, husband. Somehow, it will all end up for the best.”
Chapter 26
“Luci, can you hear me?” Christina said near her sleeping mistress’ ear. Her one-time charge stirred in her sleep but did not rouse any further. “You must wake up, my sweet girl.”
Another tear slid down the older governess’ cheek as she shook Luci’s shoulders gently. The young lady’s eyelids fluttered briefly, then slowly she opened her eyes only to mere slits.
“What is it?” she whispered hoarsely, followed by a weak fit of coughing.
“You must wake up and eat something,” Christina said, nearly begging. “It’s been two days now, and you’ve not had a bite of food nor anything to drink.”
“Leave me.” Luci turned away and closed her eyes again.
Christina stood mute as she looked down at the pale, hollow form of a once vibrant young lady. Only a matter of months ago she had been chastising this young creature for spiriting away in the park to meet a young admirer, cautioning her about preserving her all-important reputation. Now, having seen her through all manner of heartbreaks and illnesses, the girl was slipping from her grasp once again.
All of her patience, instruction, and even adoration through the years would have all been for naught should Luci seek to wither away.
“No!” Christina barked. “I will not allow it.”
Flinging the bedclothes to the floor with all her might, Christina tore at the covers as if on a rampage.
“Get up, Luci. You will not lie there a moment l
onger, not so long as I have a presence in this household.” She wrestled Luci from the bed and stood her on her feet, ignoring the astonished but weak cry of protest. “You will get up, you will eat, and you will walk these floors until the color returns to your cheeks. Then we will head out of doors and into the sunshine where the brisk air will do you good.”
“Why?” Luci cried, begging to be left alone. “Why are you tormenting me? I have nothing left, all I wish to do is keep to myself until I do not have to face it anymore.”
“That is not acceptable!” Christina shouted, feeling very much like she was putting the girl through her sums or her Latin conjugation again. “I have spent much of my life tending to your care and seeing to your education, and I will be damned if I will sit idly by while you suffer the effects of ignorant, pig-headed, dastardly men.”
“Let me go,” Luci wailed so quietly that Christina was not certain the sound was even human. The girl held out her arms for her bed, but the governess was not to be swayed by sympathy.
Hoisting Luci about the waist and forcing her to stand once again, Christina carried her over to a chair and plopped her down unceremoniously. She motioned to the servant to bring the laden cart and grabbed a small chunk of coarse bread, dunking it in the broth to sop it before holding it out.
“Eat.”
“No.”
“You will eat, or I will dump the bowl on your head and pray that the drops run into your open mouth as you cry,” Christina threatened. “You are trifling with a professional, my dear, and I know a thing or two about getting unruly children in the throes of a tantrum to do as they are bid.”
“If you care for me at all, why are you treating me so?” Luci cried, sobbing. She turned her head away as Christina seized the moment to force the bread at her.
“It is precisely because I care for you,” Christina retorted angrily, slamming her hand down on the table sharply. “I tended you as a babe, I saw to your lessons every single day for the duration of your education, and I have remained by your side as your own lady’s maid since that time. I have dumped out your pot when you’ve taken ill, I have bandaged your knee when you fell from your horse lest your mother find out… and whether you care not to go on living, I will not let you go so easily.”
Luci froze, looking down in shame. Her shoulders swayed with weakness, and as such, there was no fight left in her. She refused to look at Christina, but merely hung her head.
“I will not let you do this, Luci,” Christina whispered, her anger finally giving way to sorrow as tears poured forth. She took Luci’s face tenderly in her hands and lifted it so she could look into girl’s lifeless, tear-filled eyes. “I will not let heartbreak be the end of you because then, my dear… they win.”
“I feel like such a fool,” Luci sobbed, falling into Christina’s arms and clinging to her weakly.
“Whatever for, my dear? For acquiescing to do something you had vehemently wished to avoid, marrying a stranger to save your parents? Or for making the best of it and allowing yourself to believe that he could be trusted?” Christina leaned back to smile at Luci and said, “Dear girl, the only thing you have to feel foolish for is falling in love, and that is no foolish thing at all. What I would give to have found love, for even one day.”
Christina held Luci close and allowed her to grieve for her broken heart. The murderous thoughts she held towards Lord Ambergrave magnified with every sniffle, every choked cry. Soon enough, the governess declared an end to the storm of emotion.
“Now, you’ve had your sadness, but I meant what I said. You shall not wallow in your melancholy and risk your precarious health.” Christina steered Luci towards the table and sat her in her chair again. “You shall eat, and drink, and for goodness sake, bathe. Then we shall go outdoors.”
“I still don’t want to—” Luci began, but Christina cut her off with a glare and a raised finger, pointing towards the plate.
“I don’t recall asking whether or not you wanted to. It is what we are doing.” The governess smiled, though, a more sympathetic tone to her words. “I will not lie to you, a pain such as this one does not mend overnight. But it shall never mend if you do not treat it as the wound it is. With hearty sustenance, a thorough washing, and every attempt at exercising it until it is strong enough to be healed.”
Luci nodded solemnly and looked at the food before her with an expression of disgust. Still, she picked up the soggy bread and brought it to her mouth, trying to decide whether or not to eat it.
“Be a good girl, or there shall be no ride this afternoon,” Christina chided playfully, recalling many a day in which the promise of a ride with Jacques had made Luci stop dawdling at her lessons.
Luci cried out in horror. “Jacques! What shall become of him? He is still there with that horrible man.”
“Never fear,” Christina replied firmly. “I shall go speak to your father at once, and we will see about dispatching a rider to fetch him. But if I should return and find you have not eaten all of your bread and broth, I will not tell you what he says. Be a good girl now.”
“I’m not a child, you know,” Luci mumbled around a bite of crust.
“Then stop acting like it, and perhaps I shall remember,” Christina teased, squeezing Luci in a brief embrace. “I’m going to seek out your father now, I’ll return as soon as I know something. The maid will be here shortly with your bath.”
“Ah, Miss Ross. Precisely the one we need to speak with right now,” Lord Thornshire boomed from the drawing room. “Come in, come in.”
Christina peered inside the ornate room and froze in shock at the sight of Lady Thornshire and Lady Hardigree as well, perched stiffly on the edges of their chairs. She stepped inside, curtseyed awkwardly, and waited for someone to explain.
“Edgar, do you really think it appropriate to discuss these matters in front of those in your employment?” Lady Hardigree said, her sniff of disdain rather obvious. Christina only smiled, but at her sides her hands clenched into tight fists.
“Miss Ross is hardly a servant,” Lady Thornshire argued, and Christina relaxed slightly. “She has been with us practically since Luci was born. She’s our daughter’s closest friend.”
“I don’t find that sort of familiarity at all proper, but perhaps you do things rather differently out here in the countryside.” Lady Hardigree looked away as though Christina were of no importance.
“Please, Miss Ross, sit,” Lord Thornshire said quickly. “We have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”
“Me, My Lord? I’m not certain how I could be of assistance in any of your affairs…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around, confused.
“See? Even she knows it is not her place,” the Duchess muttered, but stopped at a fierce glance from her sister.
“Miss Ross,” Lady Thornshire said, “we have received some very important news. I know my daughter’s health is in a precarious state at the moment, so perhaps your opinion could prove valuable.”
“I think I’m rather well known for being too quick to offer my opinion, My Lady,” Christina assured her, smiling politely though still befuddled. “Of course I’m happy to offer it upon your request, as well.”
“Very good. Then perhaps it might do you well to read this first letter,” Lord Thornshire said, holding out a piece of much-read paper. He pulled it back when she reached for it though, adding, “It does contain sensitive items, so your discretion is required.”
“Of course, My Lord. Always,” she said, reaching for it again.
Lord Thornshire pulled it back a second time. “And I am under the assumption that our daughter made you privy to certain events from that unfortunate evening two nights past?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Christina admitted, growing impatient. “I had no wish to pry in your family’s affairs, but I did need to understand what was wrong with her. It is my understanding that the dinner… did not go well.”
“Ha!” Lady Hardigree scoffed. “I’ve attended hangings that were more
pleasant, from what I hear.”
“Please, Mary!” Lady Thornshire hissed, swatting at her sister’s knee with her fan. “There’s no cause to speak so uncouthly.”
Lord Thornshire ignored the ladies and handed over the letter, his eyes watching Christina’s face intently as she peeked down at it briefly.
“But My Lord, what is it you hope to learn from my perusal of this letter? I know not who even wrote it,” Christina said, still confused.
“Apart from Luci, you have spent more time with this Lord Ambergrave than any of us,” he explained. “I only ask that you read it carefully. Give us your honest view of his letter and tell us if this seems trustworthy, or rather like a ploy.”
Christina looked at the three of them, noting the fear and concern on their faces, even Lady Hardigree. She nodded and began to read, but after several minutes, the air in the room had grown very tense.
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