by Fanny Finch
“So she can stay here hoping to be useful along with you and Μother or she can consider that perhaps she can work and provide for herself.”
Thea was quiet. She knew that Delia was right. Thomas, a year younger than Delia, was on his way to university within the year. Most likely, Christopher would not be able to attend unless the family’s fortunes took a turn for the better. And unless the girls somehow managed to find husbands, the possibility of becoming burdens to their brothers was looking more and more likely.
“I suppose you are right. But it does not mean that I should like to consider it. Can you not teach somewhere closer? Why must you go all the way to London? It is such a… such an awful place! Wouldn’t you rather be in a place where you could breathe fresh air, Delia?” Thea urged, inciting her sister to remain.
“Of course I shall miss fresh air. But I am needed in London. There are children there living on the streets and there are benefactors of church-run schooling programs for them. Why should I not teach those children who have even less than we?” Delia pointed out.
Thea was exhausted from arguing when she knew her sister’s self-righteous reasons were entirely justified. Could she debate when her sister lived a life of charity and grace? Additionally, there was no one living nearby seeking a governess, which defeated the whole purpose.
Perhaps it was merely her own frustration that she had no hopes for herself. She truly would grow to become a burden. Her father, who worked so hard, and her mother who was already taking care of him. What did they need Thea for?
“I suppose you’re right. And you are not alone. I know I ought to be looking for work as well,” Thea conceded. She loved being with her family and would be sad to leave them, but she also knew that it was time to be off and begin her future.
“Well, clearly it is taking time. You shall have me for a good deal longer it would seem. Perhaps you will find work before me,” Delia replied, wrapping her arm around Thea’s and resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. They continued to watch out the open door, seeing their father grow smaller and smaller by the moment.
Thea hoped that this meeting would truly be the one to change all their fortunes.
Chapter 2
Finishing his breakfast, Joseph Tyndale, the Duke of Sandon, excused himself and stood slowly, nodding to his mother.
“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” she inquired.
“I have a meeting, Mother. About the new property. It must be furnished if we are to have guests or even stay there ourselves, do you not think?” he pointed out.
“So, are you meeting with someone regarding the home?” she pressed.
“Yes, Mother. The Duke of Arborshire arranged it for me. There is a gentleman who works with nobility to arrange their homes,” he explained, showing slight frustration at his mother’s nagging.
“A gentleman?” she said, needing to question him further.
“A merchant, Mother. He is a merchant. He sells fabrics. I will choose those which I want for my new property. For curtains, for bedding, for the cushions on the chairs of the dining room set. All of it. He has contacts with which everything will be designed and produced, Mother,” the Duke of Sandon replied, trying to restrain himself from yelling. He had grown tired of her insistence upon questioning him.
The Duke of Sandon had tried to remain a good son. He had done everything she wanted from him, and yet she was never happy, primarily because of a decision he had yet to make.
“You know, if you were married, your wife would take care of all of these things and you would be able to focus on far more important things, Joseph,” she said, finally expressing what she had really meant to say from the beginning of the conversation.
“Yes, Mother, I know this,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, gritting his teeth with each word.
“I only mean to remind you that this is the duty of a wife, not a duke. And if you were married-”
“I know, Mother. And I am sorry for not having found a wife yet. But I do keep quite busy and I am generally in circles visited merely by men,” he reminded her.
“Oh, but there are some lovely balls in London during the season. Why have you not made more of an effort?” she whined.
The Duke of Sandon sighed. “Mother, if it should please you, then in three weeks’ time, when the season begins, I shall attend every ball which I am able,” he assured her.
“That’s my boy,” she replied with a patronizing smile. The Duke of Sandon sighed again and made his way out of his mother’s dining room. As he left the house, he grabbed his hat and his favorite coat for business meetings. The driver opened the door to the coach and the Duke of Sandon got in.
The ride to his new estate just outside of Cambridge was longer than he would have liked, but knew that the man he was going to meet would likely have a less comfortable ride getting there.
However, upon arrival, he found that Mr. Caulfield was already at the estate and seemed not in the least bit inconvenienced, despite having traveled with a large portfolio of samples and drawings of potential furniture designs.
“Mr. Caulfield, I thank you for meeting with me,” the Duke of Sandon greeted.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Caulfield replied with a bow to the duke.
“Please, do come in. We have a few chairs upon which we may sit,” the Duke of Sandon said with a slight laugh.
The staff at the nearly empty home welcomed the two men and prepared tea for them at a large dining room table with six chairs, one of the only pieces of furniture in the whole house.
“Well, we do have our work cut out for us, do we not?” Mr. Caulfield said in good humor.
“Indeed, Mr. Caulfield, it would seem that we do. I think, however, that based upon my friend, the Duke of Arborshire’s recommendation of you, we shall have it all come together in due course,” the Duke of Sandon said readily.
“Well, I am humbled by the Duke of Arborshire’s praise. He is an excellent man. How did the two of you become acquainted, might I inquire?” Mr. Caulfield asked, taking a sip of the hot tea.
“We both attended Cambridge University and our first meeting was there. But our friendship continued over a shared love of fencing,” the duke replied. “And how is it that the Duke of Arborshire came to acquire your talents, Mr. Caulfield?”
“Oh, the general way, the same as I have come to you. One happy customer begets another, I suppose,” Mr. Caulfield answered.
Polite conversation continued but soon the tea cups were empty. The Duke of Sandon perceived Mr. Caulfield was too kind to waste his time in accepting a third so they got down to business.
“What I have here are the samples. And these are designs, broken into sections such as bedroom, parlor, et cetera. Now, for the fabrics, are you thinking brocades or solids throughout?” he inquired.
The Duke of Sandon was at a loss, overwhelmed by having to make these types of decisions. He ought to have simply hired someone, but knowing his mother, it wouldn’t have done.
Her taste was so specific that the Duke of Sandon knew any hired person could not quite handle the woman’s distaste as he might be able to. And the thought of asking her to choose was unreasonable as she would then simply blame him for not having a wife to do it herself.
“Mr. Caulfield, I fear that I am ill-equipped for this. I do think that brocades might do better as a theme throughout the home, but I cannot imagine it would be comfortable for the bedding,” he thought out loud.
He perceived that Mr. Caulfield did not wish to insult him, and the man was proceeding carefully.
“That is of no concern, Your Grace. We have entirely different options for fabrics of a more comfortable nature, primarily cottons,” he explained politely.
The Duke of Sandon nodded.
Finally, they had narrowed down the selection to three brocades that the Duke of Sandon thought his mother would approve of before they moved on to satins. The Duke of Sandon was still overwhelmed and wished he didn’t have to do all of this
on his own.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but what do you think your wife will think of these options? Will the duchess approve?” Mr. Caulfield inquired hopefully. The Duke of Sandon could see that what he really wanted to know was whether the mistress of the house would recommend him to her fashionable, high status friends.
“Indeed, Mr. Caulfield, I am not yet married. So, thus far, the only duchess who shall be seeing this home and require approval is my mother and, to be sure, she approves of very little,” the Duke of Sandon said with a laugh. “Having said that, while her tastes are rather distinguished, the quality of your materials speaks for itself, and I imagine she will speak highly of you to those willing to listen.”
Mr. Caulfield seemed pacified for the most part. But he did, then, say something for which the Duke of Sandon could not have been prepared.
“Your Grace, I understand that I am but a humble merchant. I know well that it is not the custom of great men such as yourself to engage with simple merchants in fashionable society. However, it would be a great delight to me if you would concede to dine at the home of a man so far below your station as myself,” Mr. Caulfield invited, bowing his head slightly and closing his eyes in reverence, hiding his mischievous grin.
The Duke of Sandon was both intrigued and astonished, for merchants never had the gall to invite a duke to their homes. And perhaps that very courage was what endeared Mr. Caulfield to the Duke of Sandon so intensely.
He smiled at the man whose head was still bowed.
“Mr. Caulfield, I should enjoy that very much,” the Duke of Sandon replied.
Chapter 3
“Yes, but he is a duke,” Georgette pointed out for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
“Then you go prance about and show off if you would like to, but I have no interest. He is father’s business acquaintance and nothing more,” Thea urged. “Besides, you are aware, are you not, that dukes are often old men?”
“You truly think so? If he were an old man, do you really think that he would still be single?” Georgette urged with a giggle.
“If he is hideous and atrocious, then yes,” Delia replied, entering the room and putting small silver bobs in her ears.
It had been a time-honored tradition in their home that for each of the three daughters, their father had saved to purchase them a pair of silver dot earrings for their sixteenth birthdays. Thea noted how Georgette, still three months away from sixteen, eyed them with envy. She tried to ignore her sister’s pettiness.
Delia tried to refrain from laughing but her sister’s look was too amusing.
“Oh, dear, she’s coming…” Delia said, glancing at the door.
The sound of their mother’s footsteps was drawing close and soon she filled the door with her voluptuous figure.
“Mother, what is it?” Thea asked, giving Mrs. Caulfield a chance to catch her breath.
“Your father said he should be arriving within the hour and I’ve not finished setting the table. Georgette, you must come with me,” she instructed.
“But Mother, I’m not yet ready. I’ve not finished my hair or pinched my cheeks and I have yet to find a better dress for the evening,” she complained.
“And yet I asked you to help me anyway, child. Your sisters need to prepare themselves. They… well, they just do,” Mrs. Caulfield ordered, leaving out the unspoken reason for the evening’s visit.
Thea knew well the true purpose of the dinner party. Her family hoped to present their two eldest daughters before a duke. What foolishness! What could possibly cause her parents to believe that a duke would be willing to risk the scandal of marriage to a merchant’s daughter?
She and Delia gave each other knowing looks, full of awareness that their mother was a fool and had clearly convinced herself of an impossible objective.
Nevertheless, it was exciting to have an occasion for dressing up and making themselves appear presentable for society with their nicest dresses and hair styles on which they rarely had reason to spend time.
It was, indeed, a short time before they were alerted to the sound of a coach coming upon their home. Thea rushed to the window to catch a glimpse before following Delia to the door where they all pushed out and waited to greet the duke.
The coachman stepped down from his spot of driving the horses and nodded to the family who waited patiently. Then, he opened the door to the coach and all the Caulfields seemed to hold their breath.
A head of medium brown hair gave way to a handsome face. Thea noted the brown eyes under strong brows, brows that could easily appear as stern if the situation warranted it.
But as the duke settled his feet upon the ground, he seemed to look about his surroundings awkwardly, as if confused as to how he should wind up in such a humble dwelling.
He then noted that his fine leather shoes had struck up a bit of dust when they hit the ground, and that dust had settled finely on the surface of the black polish.
Thea saw his attempts to hide his dismay, and the duke prodded forward with apparent determination. He would not allow the inconvenience of dirt to cause any further delay in getting this meeting over with.
“Mr. Caulfield, what a delight it is to see you again,” the Duke of Sandon greeted with a charming smile.
Thea held back a scoff. This strong, wealthy, titled man clearly had no desire to spend time with her humble family, but she did have to give him credit for trying.
It was rare to find a member of nobility willing to put aside the reluctance of associating with common folk and entertain the thought of a dinner. Arrogant though he may be, at least he was willing to move forward with this.
“Your Grace, it is our honor, to be sure,” Mr. Caulfield greeted in reply. “This is my wife, Mrs. Caulfield.”
Mrs. Caulfield shook the duke’s hand as if she were meeting the king himself. Wide-eyed and anxious, she spluttered out a simple greeting.
“And my daughters. This is my eldest, Miss Caulfield. The next is her sister Miss Delia, and our youngest daughter Miss Georgette. My sons, Mr. Thomas Caulfield, and Miss Georgette’s twin Mr. Christopher Caulfield, are both away at school,” Mr. Caulfield added with pride. For a man like him to manage affording school for his sons was evidence of his thrift and hard work.
“Well, Mr. Caulfield, I am rather impressed by your beautiful family. And I do hope to meet your sons at some point,” the Duke of Sandon added, politely, as he would with any member of London’s nobility.
Thea tried not to roll her eyes at his attempts to charm them and pretend they were equals. He was trying too hard, to be sure. What kind of hypocrite would try that hard to push aside their differences for the sake of appearance?
“Well, of course, Your Grace!” Mr. Caulfield replied enthusiastically, as if he believed it would ever happen in reality.
Thea and Delia shared a quick glance in humor of their father’s gullibility. To Thea, it was further evidence that she needed to stay and care for the poor old man with all of his silly assumptions about the world. The reality of the duke making any effort to meet their brothers was laughable.
Mr. Caulfield ushered the duke inside along with his family. Thea wondered at what the noble duke must be thinking upon seeing the inside of their home with the clutter cramped inside the small quarters.
“Humble dwellings to be sure,” her father laughed with embarrassment.
But the duke smiled kindly. “Mr. Caulfield, all I see is a man of excellent taste. A man I can trust to furnish my home for I can see how he cares for his own.”
Thea was taken aback by the sentiment and could see that her father was greatly honored by such a compliment. He tried not to stutter in his thanks.
It was not long before her mother, Mrs. Caulfield, ushered everyone around the table and, dish by dish, brought food to the table with Georgette’s assistance.
“Miss Georgette, it is very kind of you to help your mother,” the Duke of Sandon noted, causing Georgette to blush.
“We do rais
e all our daughters to be hard workers. This evening Georgette has been my helper, but all of our girls are excellent, accomplished young ladies who are eager to work hard on behalf of the household,” Mrs. Caulfield commented in a rush.
Thea felt the Duke of Sandon’s eyes land on her for a moment, and her smile at her mother’s obvious intentions fell into wide-eyed surprise.
“I see. That is a fine quality,” the Duke of Sandon said, his eyes remaining on Thea.
Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Thea waited until the Duke of Sandon’s gaze was elsewhere before she looked back up, having focused very intently on the empty plate before her. When she raised her eyes, they met Delia’s.
Thea saw then that her sister was watching her with a combination of mocking jealousy and eager encouragement. She wasn’t sure exactly how she ought to interpret that.
