by Jackie Ivie
“You’ve gone and taken over. I’ll not have it.”
“Perhaps you should have seen to dancing lessons yourself, then.”
“Dancing? What a waste of time.”
“Every lady should know how to dance. And sew. And handle a household. Every house requires a woman’s touch when it comes to control and organization.”
“Hilde never did.”
“My point exactly. Now, you really must excuse me. I’ll be late.”
“Perhaps you should teach the girls something useful.”
“What would that be? In your estimation, of course?”
“How to cook a decent meal.”
“You don’t like the food my cooks prepare? Why...I’d heard you enjoy every meal set before you. Fully.”
Devon’s uncle colored. It did nothing to detract from, or add to, his looks.
“Teach my nieces how to do it, then.”
“I intend to seek out wealthy, influential husbands for each and every one of my sisters-in-law. Now. I must go. If you insist on continuing this conversation, perhaps you’ll join us?” Bessie started walking. He joined in step with her.
“And do what?”
“Learn dancing, of course. Most gatherings require dancing. Perhaps you’ll save a set or two for me at Stansbury?”
“I will not attend any frivolities at that house. They might draw and quarter me on sight.”
“I should have known the hostilities between the families could be traced to you. What is it you did?”
“It wasn’t me. It was them.”
“What was it the Stansburys did?”
“They sent my betrothed to me as a used woman. I expected a maiden and got a harlot. I sent her back.”
“Oh. Dear. There are some things that are best left undiscovered. Thank you for reminding me of that. And for accompanying me to the ballroom.”
“We don’t have a ballroom.”
“I know. That probably isn’t the original purpose of this room, either. But it’s large. Has high ceilings. And most of the wooden floor is solid. It will make a grand ballroom when I’ve finished. Oh, look. The girls are all here.”
There was a squeal and a burst of words. “Uncle Francis? No! You wouldn’t—? You didn’t. He’s not! I mean—”
“Not to worry, Regina. Your uncle was simply escorting me. Francis?”
“I am not finished with you, Mistress.”
Bessie winced behind her veil. She’d thought the moniker an insult from Devon’s lips. She’d been naive. “And I look forward to conversing again, as well. Good day.”
Roberta closed the tall, wooden door on the uncle’s face with a decided thump. Bess was proud of her entire staff and their loyalty. It hadn’t taken long to discover the lack of education each and every Hildebrand suffered. She’d enlisted Sir Geoffrey’s help in finding tutors for the boys. It was a difficult task. Except for Byron, they had no interest in book learning.
Will had come into her chamber to complain of it yesterday. He wouldn’t be doing that again. Bessie had made certain the latch on her shutter was repaired. Again. Devon wasn’t any help there, either. He wasn’t available to assist her or argue with her. And she missed him.
Desperately.
But Uncle Francis was right. Hilde Castle had been overtaken, and it was about time. Bessie had most of the staff from Crump, and half of those from Stansbury assisting with the renovations. That’s how she knew of the North wing’s draft.
“Come along, Augusta, strike a key or two. Even if the pianoforte is hopelessly out of tune, it should still play. If not, I’ll attempt the harp. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll sing. Ladies? Form a circle. Touch palms with your right hand. The right one, Olivia. Very nice. Now, dip slightly to the right and replace your palm with the other. Excellent. Oh, Alicia. That was absolutely perfect.”
“She’s always perfect,” Regina complained.
“Now, Regina, if you must say something, you must try to couch it in elegant terms. No one wishes a shrew to wife.”
“Are you going to find a husband for me, too?” Lizzie asked.
“You are a mite young yet, but who knows? There might be an eligible boy or two out there looking for a future bride.”
“I’m so glad Devon wed you,” Olivia said. “No one else seemed to care.”
Bessie’s throat swelled at the praise.
“She’s probably just getting rid of us,” Regina said.
Bessie swallowed the instant retort. She’d seen Devon’s sister, Regina’s prickly side from the first. The girl was looking for an argument from the moment she awoke. It was no mystery why she and Uncle Francis were constantly at odds.
“Actually, I’m looking for alliances that will secure the future for my husband, and any children we may have.” A blush spread at the words. Her veil covered it, though. “And that will secure your futures as well.”
“You make it sound so...cold. Unfeeling. It makes me afraid,” Alicia said.
“Afraid of what? An unfeeling husband? It would be better than being here, wouldn’t it?”
“Now, Olivia, please. Alicia has a concern. It’s an honest one, too. Most marriages are enjoined for such reasons. Property. Political standing. Monetary gain. Very few are for any type of emotion. Why, you should hear the stories I have listened to from the ladies of Queen Elizabeth’s court.”
“You are so lucky to be wed to Devon, then,” Lizzy remarked.
Bessie couldn’t prevent the smile. The girl was Devon’s staunchest supporter. Still. Always. “That remains to be seen, Lizzie.”
“Just make certain mine is handsome,” Regina sighed.
“I shall try my best, but that word has an entirely different meaning in the rest of the world. Devon had no comparison at court. It will be difficult finding one as fair. Trust me.”
“Even if there is one, he’ll not notice me,” Olivia said.
“You’ve too many mirrors in your room to say that.”
“You need to use elegant terms Regina,” Bessie reminded her.
“I will not stand out with nothing but rags to wear.”
Olivia was still complaining. Lizzie had been accurate with her words that first night. Physical appearance seemed to be Olivia’s entire focus.
“Ladies. Please. There isn’t one among you that isn’t outstandingly beautiful. Regardless of what you might be wearing. Isn’t that right, Roberta?”
“Especially if they stand beside you, my lady,” Roberta answered. “I vow, I’ve seen nicer threads on a pauper.”
Bess looked down at herself and the ordinary garments she’d donned. “Since there’s so much work to be done, I thought it best.”
“You are not doing any work. I won’t abide it.”
“I speak of the dust all about. Besides, if I want an argument, I can search out Francis. Isn’t that right, ladies?”
“What is atop your head this time?”
“A shawl. I couldn’t find a headdress. They have disappeared. I don’t suppose you’d know where?”
“They were in need of washing.”
“All of them?”
“I got behind in my washing.”
Bessie looked to the ceiling for a moment. The girls were giggling. “It is a good thing you’re an excellent maid, Roberta. Speaking of which, have we assigned the girls theirs, yet?”
“We’re getting our own maids? I don’t believe it. I don’t. I feel like I’m dreaming,” Alicia spoke.
“Mine won’t have much to do with my lack of wardrobe,” Olivia complained.
“She’ll be busy enough keeping all of your mirrors shined.”
“Can’t you say a kind word just once, Regina?” Alicia tightened her lips as she admonished her younger sister.
Bess let out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t you tell them, Roberta?”
“Tell us what?”
It was Regina, and for once, she’d lost her sarcastic tone.
“I sent for seamstresses. They’ve just
arrived. I also had bolts and bolts of fabrics sent. As soon as we’ve finished here, we’ll see about new wardrobes, including ensembles for the festival I’m planning at Stansbury.”
Bessie knew as soon as she spoke why Roberta had kept it quiet. Not one of the Hildebrand girls was interested in continuing dancing when they could be designing wardrobes and interviewing prospective lady’s maids. She could have kicked herself.
“What have I done?” she asked in mock horror.
“Go. See to yourself, Lady Bess. We’ll mind the ladies for you.”
“Oh, thank you, Augusta.”
“Have I grown invisible, of a sudden?”
“Of course not, Roberta. Thank you, too. If anyone wants me, I believe I’ll be in my rooms...hiding from Francis.”
“It won’t matter. He’ll find you. He’s got a nose for a fight. We usually send Regina,” Olivia said.
“Really? I can’t imagine why,” Bessie dead-panned.
“Is that what you meant by couching something in elegant terms?”
“You are an excellent student, Olivia. That goes for all of you. Now. Excuse me. Enjoy the materials and sketches. I look forward to seeing what you like.”
Bessie slid from the chamber, shut the door behind her, and wondered where it was safest to go. Uncle Francis wasn’t a bookish sort, which made the library a good place. Bessie’s lips twisted. Library was too nice a word for the room containing a rag-tag collection of books scattered on crooked wooden shelves. She wondered if any work had started there, yet.
One look told her if it had, it hadn’t progressed far.
Bess shut the library door behind her and sighed in resignation. There was so much to do! Hilde Castle was a large, ramshackle, poorly-designed keep. The L-shaped library was yet another example. The reason the shelves tilted was due to the uneven slant of the floor. And it was on the ground level. Made of stone. Perhaps the floor could be chiseled. Or a wooden floor might be a better option.
The library was empty of furnishings. Hollow-sounding. The assortment of chairs and tables had been removed. She’d assigned them to a kindling pile on sight. From all appearances, the family had been using the room mainly for storage. It also looked dustier than when she’d first seen it. That was probably due to the new glass windows. Their installation had created all kinds of debris. Beams of sunlight glanced off dust motes. Bessie reached for her head covering and unwound it as she walked toward one of the long windows.
She’d almost forgotten the joy of having the sun on her face, instead of experiencing it through fabric. She stood for a moment at a window, enjoying the sunshine without being fettered by material. It was so stupid. She’d already been forced to wear the weeds for two solid months at court and what had she done since? Sentenced herself to more with her obstinacy.
Bessie looked out on the gardens and counted fifteen workers. Uncle Francis hadn’t argued over them. He probably never stepped outside the castle. The colors were so much more vivid, the air filled with zest. The world sparkled through the clean glass at her nose. Bessie sighed and leaned into it.
“Well. I have to say it’s a pleasure to see the real you, my lady. Will wasn’t very poetic in his description. I’ll have to speak with him.”
“Byron!”
Bessie swiveled at the same time she shrieked the name. Devon’s youngest brother was perched atop a low shelf. He’d probably been reading, as the book in his lap testified. He might not have meant to surprise her. She was beginning to think it another family characteristic they all seemed to share. Or perhaps that’s what came of living with so many.
“I startled you. Forgive me. And...don’t flee. Please? I’m not of a mind to tell anyone, especially Devon. He never pays me much attention, anyway. Besides, I’ve known everything since Will saw you.”
“Every...thing?”
“Everything,” he agreed. “I know you are a beauty. You are rich. Landed. Well-connected at court. And you are hiding all of that from my eldest brother because he is a dimwit. Am I leaving anything out?”
Bessie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Byron jumped down, making dust rise as he landed.
“I found out years ago this is the best place to avoid everything. I’m not surprised you found it, too. And everyone thinks I’m reading.” He said the last in a conspiratorial fashion and lifted the book in his hand.
“Aren’t you?”
“I shouldn’t. It’s another fault of mine. Perhaps the greatest one.”
Byron was another duplicate of Devon. Just like James. And Will. And Henry. His skin was paler, his eyes were lighter, and he was probably the leanest of them, but that was probably due to his age. He was still extremely handsome. He’d create a stir in any setting. Bessie didn’t have to feign disbelief.
“Surely you jest.”
“Would you like me to list some of them? I’m not very strong. I was sickly for years. I’m...terrified of heights. I’m a failure with weaponry. My hunting skills are nonexistent. I’ve yet to bag any game. It’s my cursed sight! I can’t see well enough to hit anything I aim at. What else? Oh. I have a terrible seat. I’ve only tried to ride once. I hurt my legs. Both of them.”
“How did you manage such a feat?”
“The horse threw me. Uncle Francis banished me to my room for a sennight.”
“If I had any esteem for your uncle, it’s waning. Where was Devon when this happened?”
“At court. And don’t start pitying me. I actually like staying in my room. Besides, Alicia pities me enough. Why do you think I avoid her, too? So. Now you know. James says I’ll never marry. There is no woman that would have me.”
“Oh. That James is rapidly joining your Uncle Francis in my regard. Tell me. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I thought Olivia was that age.”
“She is almost seventeen. We’re but ten months apart. She’s older.”
“Sixteen is fairly young to be wed, Byron.”
“Regina says she’s old enough and she’s barely fifteen.”
“A woman is different.”
“I know. I’ve heard all about it. A man has to be mature. He needs abilities. To show he can support a family. Provide food for the table. Shelter. Let’s see. That means he has to keep his seat on a horse. Possess good hunting skills. Be strong enough to wield a sword...or at least a scythe. There is more. I can’t recollect it at the moment.”
“Not all women look for such things.”
“Did you?”
“Me? I wasn’t looking, at all.”
“But, if you were...what would you look for?”
“I never gave it much thought.”
“But if you were?”
He was certainly determined. That was obvious. Bessie spent some time gathering her thoughts. She’d never truly considered it. Something told her this was a momentous occasion. Not just for him, either. She addressed her words to the window.
“You say women want what you call ability? Perhaps. But I think I’d rather have a spouse I could talk with. A man who wouldn’t treat me as chattel. Or beneath him. Oh. He’d also need to allow me quite a bit of freedom. I’m very used to having things a certain way. I’d...also want a faithful man. One I could trust. My maid says I long for the moon.”
“I’d say you found it.”
She turned her head to look up at him. Smiled. A moment later, he returned it.
“Byron, if you spoke with Will, you know my plan...with regard to you Hildebrands.”
“You wish to be rid of us.”
“That is not my goal. Why, if any of you wish to stay here and unwed, speak up. I’ll abide your wish.”
Byron flushed. Since he was fairly pale, it was especially noticeable. And completely endearing. “I do not wish to remain unwed...if a woman could be found,” he finally replied.
He glanced toward her. Bessie tried not to smile before he looked away. “I don’t think it presents much of a problem.”
“Even with m
y faults?”
Bessie sighed. Cursed their uncle silently. Then James. “I think we need to draw up a different list about you, Byron.”
“What kind?”
“One that lists your talents, of course.”
“I haven’t any. I told you.”
“Well. You are persistent. That’s one. I know you’re a learned man. You read. You might also be talented in the other arts. Poetry. Music. Dancing.”
“I play the lyre. And I can carry a tune.”
“You sing?”
“When no one else is about. I also have a head for figures. I’ve been keeping tallies on the family stores for years, what little there was of them. And,” he dipped his head and blushed even more severely, “I’ve also penned some poetry.”
“Really?”
“I’ve never told another soul.”
“I am honored,” Bessie replied.
“Oh. What’s the use? These aren’t marriageable qualities. I should become a scribe. Or a steward. If all else fails, I suppose I could join the clergy.”
“You shouldn’t denigrate your talents, Byron. I am quite overcome. It’s quite a list. But you also forgot a few.”
“I did?”
“Oh, yes. Since you’re a Hildebrand, and it’s a family trait, you are also a very handsome man. You are already eye-catching, but dressed in court attire I can only guess the stir you will cause...especially when I add in your charming turn of speech and manner of deportment. Why, any lady would be honored to be your spouse. I look forward to finding one deserving of it, too.”
“You do?”
“Most definitely. I promise.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Byron was right. The library was the best place to be.
Bessie finished dusting a book and tucked it beneath her arm for adding to one of the stacks of them she’d set on the floor. There were more volumes than she’d guessed. She regarded her haphazard-looking stacks. Due to the floor’s slant, she’d had to build a pylon of tomes to keep the entire affair from sliding toward the window.
Byron had been gone what seemed hours, and the sun’s trajectory was warning her. She needed to return to her chamber. Prepare. Find another head covering. She hadn’t much time before supper.
