Chapter 8
Prudent Caution
The lavish affair had ended and the soles of her feet throbbed. She hadn’t danced the night away like that in her entire life. When she glanced across the seat at Lord and Lady Whitefield, they looked equally exhausted. However, Grace fidgeted at her side apparently spurred on by boundless energy.
“Did you enjoy the ball?” Lady Whitefield asked with keen interest.
“Immensely. But, I will confess that I am worn out from twirling across the floor.”
“As I expected,” Lord Whitefield offered somberly, “the attendees were impressed by your presence.”
“Let us not forget the young men, too, Father.” Grace turned her head and gave Jolene a raised brow as if she wished to scold her rather than congratulate her on the obvious popularity she obtained.
“It bears repeating,” Lady Whitefield said, “that a young, rich woman should be careful of insincere men looking to marry for money.”
Jolene shook her head. “I’ve heard the warnings before from my solicitor and aunt before I departed.”
“And well advised,” Lord Whitefield added, sounding much like her father’s voice.
“Alastair, on the other hand, has somewhat of a level head,” his wife added. It was obvious that Lady Whitefield had decided to put in a kind word regarding her polite offspring.
“Yes, I find him most agreeable,” Jolene replied. There was no reason to insult them regarding the young man. After all, he appeared to be a proper gentleman. Nevertheless, the spark between them failed to ignite.
“Why is he not returning with us?” Jolene looked to Grace for an explanation.
“He’s probably with his friends, Robert and Geoffrey, having some evening drink at the men’s club to talk about the night.”
“Mr. Chambers has offered to be my tour guide through London,” Jolene announced. “I thought that a kind gesture, although I have not given him my answer yet.” She thought dropping that bit of information would stir the carriage occupants.
“I don’t think that is wise, Lady von Lamberg, to have the young man show you London unaccompanied. People will talk.” Lady Whitefield appeared disappointed that she even entertained the thought of such a union.
“I could ask Lord Holland to come along, and we’ll accompany you. Surely that will not cause such a stir.” Grace mischievously smirked.
The thought of their intrusion bothered Jolene. She wanted to reject the suggestion but then realized the advantage of their company. “You danced with Lord Holland quite a few times. Is he interested in courting you?”
“Courting?” Grace cackled. “Oh, God no.” She swiftly corrected the assumption, glancing at her father whose face had turned sour as a pickle.
“That might be a good idea,” Lady Whitefield commented. “You will not be placed in an uncomfortable situation, should Mr. Chambers decide to be less than a gentleman.”
“Your suggestion is wise,” she answered with an agreeable voice. “Should he offer again, I will accept with those conditions.”
The carriage pulled down The Boltons and halted at the impressive white facade. When Jolene stepped out, the weight upon her feet brought a fleeting grimace of pain. The servants took their wraps, and she climbed the stairs with Grace at her side.
“Can we talk a moment before you retire?” Grace reached over and grabbed her hand.
“Yes, of course.” Jolene surmised that more warnings about the men she had danced with that evening were forthcoming. When she opened the door, Maria had been waiting to help her undress and prepare for bed.
“I’m so relieved you are here, Maria. Please help me get out of these clothes.” In a matter of seconds, Jolene kicked off her shoes and stood in her sheer stockings wiggling her toes back to life. Her attentive maid came to her side and unbuttoned the long row of fabric buttons down her back. Grace sat down on the edge of the bed quietly watching.
“My instinct tells me that you want to speak to me about Mr. Chambers.” Jolene looked hesitantly over at Grace.
After kicking off her own shoes, she puffed a breath of air from her lips. “Your instincts are correct,” Grace responded, in a low and apologetic tone. “I know that it is not my place to advise you. After all, we hardly know each other. Nevertheless, if you will forgive my boldness, I hope that we can become friends while you are here.”
Jolene’s dress pooled at her feet, and she stepped out. Maria picked it up and walked to the closet. “I hope that we can as well,” Jolene replied. “I am after all in a strange land, home, and among people I barely know. It is essential that I find trustworthy individuals to help guide me in the weeks ahead.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Grace sighed.
“You have my permission to tell me what’s on your mind about Mr. Chambers.” Jolene decided that she would give her free reign to speak her mind, although Grace would have done so anyway.
“You like him, don’t you?” Grace made a matter-of-fact statement rather than a pointed question.
“I won’t deny that I found his character and persona quite, shall we say, captivating.” Jolene thought for a moment as Maria draped a silk robe over her shoulders. She slipped it on and tied the sash.
“Maria, would you leave me for a few minutes? I wish to speak with my friend alone.”
She curtsied. “Of course, my lady.”
“I’ll ring when I need you to help me prepare for bed.” Maria retreated. Jolene sat down on the bed next to Grace.
“Captivating is an apt description,” Grace replied. “Alastair says he is relatively harmless, just arrogant and far too sure of himself.”
Jolene nodded. “Yes, I agree, but confidence can be a good trait.”
“True, but I think my aversion to his personality stems from the dark side of his family. He’s apparently inherited the overbearing and controlling nature of his father and ancestors.” Grace paused and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I shudder to think of his grandfather’s treatment of slaves. It truly has stained the family’s legacy.”
“It doesn’t appear that society has been less than acceptable of the Chambers. If that were the case, why would so many think that the Chambers’ ball is so important to attend?” Jolene could not understand Grace’s logic. She reached over and grasped her new friend’s hand. “I don’t think it’s fair to penalize Mr. Chambers for the questionable behavior of his ancestors, do you?” To her surprise, Grace burst out in laughter.
“Oh, dear God. You have much to learn about the English.” After controlling her giggles, she continued with a smile and sparkle in her eye.
“To the British our ancestry means everything. It is what defines us as individuals. Our family lineage can be traced for centuries, and the conquests or failures of our ancestors follow us throughout our lifetime.”
Grace presented her thoughts with such conviction that it shed a light on her own predicament. Heritage sounded odd in her circumstance. All she knew was the inheritance of her stepfather, the count. As much as she loved him, not a drop of blood from his ancestors flowed through her veins.
Looming before her included the doubtful past on her mother’s side. If the letter were true that Jacquelyn had not brought her into the world, the prospects of what lay ahead frightened Jolene. The grim frown on her face caught Grace’s attention.
“I’m so sorry. How insensitive of me. I forgot about your situation,” Grace apologized.
“You are quite right, my friend. I know so little about my own heritage. Only the stories from my stepfather that were passed on by my mother reveal my past. I have no idea who my birth father is or if I’m even...”
Hastily, she inhaled the words back into her mouth that were about to expose her dilemma. She couldn’t share such possibilities. Not yet. Not until tomorrow when she would visit whoever lived at the return address on the letter.
“Well, my feet are aching, and you must be tired,” Grace said. She rose from the bed and bent down to pick up he
r shoes.
“Have a good night’s sleep. I’ll fetch Maria for you.”
“Thank you,” Jolene said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been so kind to me, and I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do.”
After Grace left, Jolene waited on the edge of the bed until Maria returned.
“Did you have a good time at the ball?” she asked, entering the room.
“Yes, very good, but my feet are pounding.”
“Here, let me,” she said, kneeling down before Jolene. Maria took one foot into her skillful hands and started to massage Jolene’s aching muscles and tendons.
Jolene moaned. “Oh, dear God, that feels wonderful.”
“We could soak them for a while if you’d like.”
“No, this will do.”
After spending a few minutes with one foot, she gently placed it back on the carpet and lifted the other working her magic. “I wish I could tell you something, Maria. My heart is so heavy, and I have no one to confide in.”
She wanted to talk to someone about the letter besides her solicitor. Grace might be trustworthy, but she did not know her well enough. Besides, she knew the Holland family and that would be too tempting. She might reveal her purpose of being here long before she would be ready to reveal anything.
“I’m happy to listen.”
Maria continued to rub her feet taking much longer with the left than the right. Perhaps she thought if she continued to bring her relief that Jolene would relieve her troubled soul.
“I’ll be gone for some time tomorrow morning visiting someone in London.”
“I didn’t know that you knew anyone here,” she said. She put her foot down and picked up the other again. Jolene didn’t protest.
“A lady wrote to me a few months ago telling me that she knew my mother. I thought it would be nice to meet her and perhaps learn more about the countess.”
“You must be excited. I know you often wonder about your mother.”
“I do. As much as I loved the count, there have been times that I feel like an orphan. Without auntie in my life, I would be utterly alone. And I will be alone when she passes,” Jolene said with a downcast expression. “Truth be told, that frightens me.”
Feeling tired, Jolene pulled her foot from Maria’s hand. “Thank you, that helped immensely, but I wish to retire now.”
Maria helped her with her evening routine. After she removed the pins from her hair and brushed it thoroughly, she dressed Jolene in her nightgown. Exhausted and anxious for the morning visit, she climbed under the covers and bid her goodnight.
“Come to me about an hour before breakfast is served, Maria. I’d like a bath and will choose my clothes for my outing tomorrow.”
“Yes, my lady,” she said.
After she left, Jolene sank beneath the covers. The evening had been an emotional one, filled with surprise interactions and new acquaintances. As she relived them in her mind one by one, Jolene examined the reactions she experienced with each person.
Lord Holland gave her a distinct impression of being a rascal when he squeezed her waist. Had circumstances been different, it would be quite possible that her observation of the young man might have differed. She even may have been interested in him as a suitor. Nevertheless, she did enjoy his company but remained cautious to form any additional opinions until she had the chance to know him better.
Her meeting with the duke and duchess has been the most emotional by far. At one point, she thought her hand would snap her closed fan. What could she do, except channel the tension into an innate object? Had she not, there would be no telling what she would have blurted from her mouth, ruining her resolve to remain unknown.
Nevertheless, the longer she stood across from the duchess it became obvious she entertained no feelings of attachment. She was a stranger to her like the hundreds of others she had met in the assembly.
The duke appeared to be a kind and attentive husband. Jolene admitted that his tender and apparent love for his wife had been his most striking characteristic. Though she did not understand the power of love, having never experienced it with the opposite sex, she highly regarded his sentiments.
Then, of course, there had been Mr. Chambers. The alluring male who threatened to take her focus off her intended visit. She toyed with the idea of how much leeway she would allow him to impress her as a prospective beau. Admittedly, the man had an influence upon her womanly desires and could become a distraction. In the days ahead, she would need to decide how much of a distraction she would let him to be.
Jolene closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be a turning point in her search, which both frightened and excited her at the same time.
Chapter 9
What is the Truth?
A tall, thin driver dressed in a black uniform and hat stood by the door of the motorcar waiting for her arrival. The Mercedes touring vehicle parked in front of the house sported its brass trim and leather seats. Every inch of metal had been shined to perfection.
“Where would you like me to drive you?”
She had written the address down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Do you know the way to this locality?” He glanced at it for only a moment and shook his head affirmatively.
“I am familiar with the location. It’s about a half an hour drive from here across the Thames River.”
“If you could take me there, I would be most appreciative.”
He helped her into the backseat of the motorcar and closed the door. It felt exhilarating to ride in one. Surely, her stepfather would have enjoyed a car had he given in to the new world of the twentieth century. Once the driver started the engine and pulled away from the curb, she smiled at the sensation of rolling down the road in a horseless carriage.
The streets were a jumbled mass of motorcars, hackney carriages, and other modes of transportation. Every inch of available thoroughfare appeared claimed by travelers in the West End. If traffic were not enough, the sidewalks were swarming with pedestrians. Vienna was a cosmopolitan city in its own rights, but London buzzed with an exciting energy that Jolene could not put into words.
When they crossed the river and drove farther east, she noticed fewer motorcars and more carriages. The poverty-stricken landscape looked different from the pristine, whitewashed buildings of Kensington.
After a few more minutes of travel, the scenery suddenly changed to something a bit more pleasant. The motorcar slowed, and the wheels rolled to a stop in front of a block of modest, redbrick row houses. After he parked, the driver exited and came around to open her door.
“This is the address, Lady von Lamberg.”
He offered his hand, and Jolene exited onto an uneven walkway. “Wait for me. I won’t be long,” she instructed.
Warily, she approached the door. After she grasped a tarnished brass knocker with her fingers, she banged it loudly a few times and stepped back. Her hands nervously clutched her purse, while she inhaled a deep breath in anticipation of meeting the author of the letter.
Just as she exhaled, the door opened revealing an elderly woman standing in the threshold. She looked at Jolene blankly, but her eyes noted her fashionable clothing. By the look on her face, she had no idea why a person of her caliber might be at her door.
“I beg your pardon for the intrusion,” Jolene began. “My name is Komtesse Jolene van Lamberg.” How utterly foolish to be spouting off her title at a time like this, she thought to herself. It sounded like a rude reminder of their difference in class.
“Are you Dorcas?” she blurted. “I’m looking for a woman by the name of Dorcas Kirby. Does she reside here?” Jolene had not intended to sound so brash in her introduction, but a mixture of distrust and intrigue were difficult to handle under the circumstances.
“No, she is not here,” the woman replied sadly. “She passed away a few months ago. Why do you ask?”
Passed away. She had not contemplated such a quick end to her pursuit. Every question she had formed in her mind suddenly evap
orated into thin air. Her stomach tightened into a knot. Feeling as if she owed the woman an explanation for standing at her doorstep, she told her why.
“Because I received this letter from Dorcas, and I wished to speak to her about the contents.” Jolene pulled it from her purse and held the envelope in her hand. Frankly, she felt like tossing it in the nearby gutter. But to her surprise, the elderly woman brought her hand to her mouth and gasped.
“Oh, dear God in heaven above,” she exclaimed. “You are the recipient?”
“Yes. I received it in the post a few months ago.” Jolene stepped closer. “Do you know of this letter?”
The woman shook her head affirmatively. “Yes, I do. I am Lillian Kirby, Dorcas’ sister. Please, won’t you come in?”
Her invitation revived her hope. The door opened widely, and she walked over the threshold quickly glancing about the small household. The air smelled stale and musty, but the modest interior appeared clean and well-ordered. “Thank you.”
“Please, your ladyship, come into the parlor. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I do hope you’ll stay for a while because I have much to tell you and something to give you. Please, have a seat,” she offered cordially.
Jolene viewed her choices of a raggedy couch and a single wooden chair with a worn fabric base. Choosing the sturdy chair, she sat down and glanced around the parlor. She had lived in such opulence her entire life that being in a home of modest surroundings made her feel uncomfortable. It served to remind her of the sheltered life she lived, far removed from the world and material struggles of the people who lived in it. She felt ashamed, recognizing her shallow heart of indifference.
“I’m sorry to come here unannounced,” she began looking at the elderly woman, who sat across from her on the couch. “But I came to speak with your sister about her correspondence. Did she tell you about it?”
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