Love,
Isabella
P.S. Papa received Uncle Charles’ letter and was quite pleased with the results of his inquiry. I believe that he and the Duke have a new chemical compound that they will be testing on the roses in the southwest corner of the lower terrace. They are reasonably assured of their success in being able to encourage the late summer roses to bloom at twice their usual size. They intend to begin the experiment tomorrow morning while the dew is still wet on the leaves. I have already determined to rise early and watch, as it sounds most interesting.
26 June, 1845
Warnerhaus, 9 Salztorgasse, Vienna
Dear Isabella,
Your letter about riding out with the Duke and Lieutenant Potter came two days ago. You are right to say that the circumstance is most interesting. I am also inclined to agree with your guess that the Duke’s mysterious matter and the empty manor house are connected in some way, though I cannot guess how or why. Have you learned anything new since you last wrote? I quite agree that the distance between us is most unfortunate; letters take far too long to reach their destination. At times I feel that we are missing out on one another’s correspondence.
I can scarcely believe that Papa and I have been in Vienna for a month already. The time has quite flown by. Sadly, my time here is to be cut short all too soon. Lady Warner returns to Paris next month to be with her youngest daughter for her confinement, and I must go with her. Papa shall stay on with Lord Warner to continue his research. You will easily imagine that I have been experiencing a variety of feelings on the subject. Here I am comfortably situated and well-connected with the very finest of Viennese society; in Paris I shall be neglected by my stepfamily and only occasionally relieved by visits to Lady Rousseau. (Most of my better Parisian acquaintances were not actually from Paris and have long since returned to their native lands.) And I shall have to leave Rupert behind as well, a prospect I do not welcome.
Ever since my conversation with Lady Warner, I have tried to follow her advice and allow things to continue freely between Rupert and myself. Her encouragement has made me more comfortable and less worried over what I should do about my feelings for him. Indeed, Isabella, I must confess to you that my regard for Rupert increases daily, that it has already gone beyond the point of mere admiration of his excellent character. I do not quite know how it happened; when we first met, I felt there was something different about him, and I thought about him afterward more than I have ever thought about a man before. It seems odd even now that it should have come on me so quickly. But I find I cannot help it, and do not even want to try.
And I believe Rupert returns my affections. It is in his every look and word; he is kind and attentive, and he goes out of his way to spend time with me. He sends flowers every week, and he visits almost every day. He offers me his arm for every walk now, regardless of the distance. He partners me at the balls we attend as much as propriety will allow, and always tells me he is sorry we cannot dance together more. He has done everything short of actually declaring his feelings for me. Perhaps he has not spoken because of the shortness of our acquaintance; it would be consistent with his nature. But I find myself hoping that if he is to declare himself, he will do so soon. Eventually Papa will not be able to avoid returning to Kent, and I know he will not leave the rest of us here on the Continent without him.
30 June
Oh, what shall you think of me when you read what I have to tell you? Today I received more evidence that Rupert is the most superior man I have ever known. Unfortunately, it has happened in the most embarrassing of ways. I did not intend for him to learn of this particular fault of mine, but he has, and his opinion of me appears to be unaltered in spite of my carelessness. If he is willing to overlook my temper, I must trust that you will do the same. But let me start from the beginning.
Lady Müssen and her daughters called on us this morning, and we were enjoying a pleasant visit when our party was enlarged by a Frau Schneider and her own spinster daughter. The Schneiders are extremely well-placed in the local society; Herr Schneider is a vastly wealthy man of the law and contributes to several very prominent charities in order to prop up his family’s social status. They are not at all liked in Vienna, for they have a reputation for being very trite and unforgiving, particularly Frau Schneider. However, Herr Schneider’s wealth and influence are such that no one can leave them out of their acquaintance without fear of incurring their wrath. Thus they are suffered in all the finer households of Vienna, even though they do not have an ounce of civility or decorum to recommend them.
Frau Schneider has taken a particular dislike to me, as I provide direct competition for her daughter, Emmeline. It has long been known that Frau S. is trying to catch a rich husband for Emmeline, and as Rupert is one of the wealthiest and most titled bachelors in the city (yet far enough removed from the throne to make him accessible by the lower classes), he is naturally on her list of eligible suitors. The very marked attention that Rupert has shown me from the beginning has led Frau S. to be most unpleasant whenever we are in company together, and it is a lesson in patience to keep my countenance from betraying my inner feelings of annoyance that a stranger should treat me with such contempt. In station the Schneiders are not higher than I am; indeed, as Mama was granddaughter to an earl, I am somewhat higher placed than they already. And Papa’s prominence in the academic world leads him into the best circles with ease. The Schneiders have carved their place in society with silver spades and acid tongues. Frau S. could outdo even Fanny for airs and improper remarks.
I was grateful that Louisa, Gretel, and I had settled down to drink our tea near the window and not among the main tea area, for it meant that we did not have to converse with Frau S. and Emmeline immediately. Lady Warner had just poured out tea for the new arrivals when a footman entered and told her that she had another visitor who had asked to be shown into the library. (I did not think much of it at the time.) Lady W. excused herself and left the room to see to her guest, and we returned to our tea. Louisa was recounting a play she had recently attended with her betrothed when I caught my own name being spoken in the other group across the room. Louisa had not heard, and it took quite a bit of effort to pretend I was still listening to her while simultaneously straining to hear what was being said about me.
“I do wonder at Lady Warner’s taste in having that young English lady with her so constantly. The father is a charming scholar, but as for the daughter, I can see nothing in her manner to deserve such great attentions. And her connection with Baron von Schönfeld is most alarming. I wonder at Lady Warner for not seeing it; the Baron was dancing attention in the most obvious way on her just the other night at Lord Gunther’s, and I for one was shocked at how Lady Warner encouraged him. I could tell that young man a thing or two about this English minx that he would not soon forget. Perhaps then he will look for a more suitable connection among those of his own nationality.” I was seated at an angle to observe the tea table out of the corner of my eye and thus caught the self-satisfied nod and glance toward her daughter that Frau S. indulged in as she finished this astonishing speech.
“Eleanor, are you quite well?” Gretel asked just then, looking at my face. Her words distracted me from hearing whether or not Lady Müssen made any reply.
I shook myself mentally and set my teacup down. “Yes, I am quite well, thank you. It sounds as though your evening was quite delightful, Louisa. Perhaps Papa and I will attend the play and see it for ourselves. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I should go and see if Lady Warner has need of my help with her other guest.” With that, I stood and moved toward the drawing room door.
“Miss Stafford, are you quitting us so soon? We have not yet had the pleasure of speaking to you,” Frau S. had the audacity to say as I dropped a brief curtsey at the tea table. You must not blame me, dear Isabella, for what I did next. Indeed, I do not think anyone could when they know the state of my emotions in that moment. I was flustered and embarrassed and not a lit
tle bit angry at being spoken of in such a manner behind my back. Fanny’s abuse I am used to, but even Step-mamma has never been so rude as to openly insult me before company. My tongue would not keep still, and before I quite knew that I was speaking, I had turned away from the door again and begun.
“I regret, ma’am, that I cannot return the compliment to you. You may think it acceptable to speak falsehoods about another person in company one moment and then smile at them the next, but I find such affectations to be deplorable, and therefore must tell you that I have never before been in company with a woman of such a petty, arrogant nature as yourself. Your rude comments about me will not be soon forgotten, I assure you, and whenever it is in my power to enlighten others as to the nature of your character, I shall certainly do so. Doubtless there are many who you have seen fit to contemptuously slander behind their backs, and we must support one another or allow your tongue to continue its hateful gossip unchecked. You will excuse me for speaking my mind without apology; certainly you are accustomed to doing so yourself and cannot grudge another for doing the same.” With that I bobbed another curtsey and turned to leave the room before my flushed face could turn into tears, as it usually does when I am very upset. The stunned silence behind me was expected, but the sight of Lady Warner and her guest in the doorway was not.
Of course you have guessed by now that it was Rupert himself, who had come early for his visit. The sight of him made the whole situation a thousand times worse. I made some slight apology to Lady W. and left immediately, brushing past Rupert in my haste. I went straight to the library, the nearest location I could be sure of privacy. Once there, I allowed my tears to flow freely. I cried both from shame at Frau S. and her lies, but also shame over my own behavior, and embarrassment that my tongue had gotten away from me before Lady Warner’s guests and especially Rupert. My distress was rather consuming, and I did not hear the sound of the door being opened and closed behind me.
“Eleanor?” It was Rupert. I struggled to suppress my tears as he approached. I wiped ineffectually at my eyes, but I had left my reticule in the drawing room and did not have a handkerchief. Rupert took my hand and pressed his own handkerchief into it, then led me gently to a seat by the window. He stood silently beside me while I sat composing myself and drying my eyes. Finally I was able to speak somewhat steadily.
“I must apologize to Lady Warner at once. She must be vexed with me for speaking so to her guests. And I am sorry you had to be party to my loss of temper. It was very wrong of me.”
“Lady Warner actually sent me to make sure that you were well. She is seeing Frau Schneider and her daughter off now and is most anxious to know what happened to cause you such distress.” He paused for a moment and looked at me, but I could not meet his gaze. My face was flushing again. Finally he said very gently, “Would it help to tell me about it?” I shook my head silently. I could not tell him what had happened, what Frau S. had said about me… about us. Rupert nodded, and then said “I am sure whatever happened between you and Frau Schneider, you had good reason to speak as you did.” His tone was so unspeakably kind that I could not help looking up at him.
“You must think very poorly of me,” I said at last.
“On the contrary, I think no differently of you than I did before. Eleanor, you are an intelligent young woman with a great deal of spirit. You cannot be blamed for wishing to defend yourself when others speak falsely of you.” He smiled gently at me and I managed a weak smile in return, although I still felt miserable. “I must confess,” Rupert added, “I have long wished that someone would give Frau Schneider a taste of her own behavior. The expression on her face was quite amusing.” I laughed slightly in spite of myself. Rupert’s grin widened. “Come; let us return to the others. Lady Warner is most anxious to know that you are well, and she will worry if we are too long in joining her.” I nodded my assent, and Rupert gave me his hand to help me from my chair. He took my arm and placed it within his own, and we returned to the drawing room.
Lady Warner was alone, the other guests having taken their leave while Rupert and I were in the library. Lady W. stood as we entered and came directly to us. “Oh my dear, I am dreadfully sorry for what has happened. Lady Müssen has told me everything, and I think you were quite right to speak as you did.” I tried to apologize, but Lady W. would not allow it. She and Rupert spent the rest of the afternoon distracting me from gloomy thoughts with music and conversation and tea.
So you see Bella, Rupert was not frightened away by my carelessness, nor my outspoken manner. Before he left, he invited me to go riding with him again tomorrow, as if to prove that he does not think less of me now than he did before that horrid tea.
I have never known a man more naturally kind and forgiving. I do believe that if he were to ask for my hand tomorrow, I would give it to him without a moment’s hesitation. My heart is already quite his.
Your flustered cousin,
Eleanor
6 July, 1845
Warnerhaus, 9 Salztorgasse, Vienna
Dear Isabella,
I could not help responding to your most recent letter, even though you will have just heard from me. You claimed that I had given you much to think over, but that is nothing to the pondering your letter has required of me since it arrived this morning.
My mind is quite divided on the subject of the information you received from Mr. Adamson. On the one side, I am inclined to agree with him; the Duke’s affairs are his own, and if the townsfolk are willing to put the past behind them, it seems the gracious thing to do is leave it be. But I also understand your reluctance to commit to loving someone when you harbor doubts about the integrity of his character. Of course, the rector did not say directly that the Duke was involved in the misfortunes of the Hamilton family, but does not the behavior of the villagers imply that it is true? It is a most puzzling circumstance.
The result of my musings on the subject is the following advice: you must be content to let the Duke keep his secrets unless he offers for you. Until then you stand in the position of friend, but it is not until he asks you to share his life with him that you will be justified in requiring more information from him. Even then you must be cautious in obtaining the information. We have been assuming that the Duke’s behavior has been reprehensible in some sense, but what if it was the reverse? What if the Duke attempted to help the family and failed, and the villagers inaccurately blame him for the family’s misfortunes because he happened to be in line to inherit their land? In your position, I would be afraid of injuring the relationship by being accusatory and suspicious. Surely there is a way to make such an inquiry with delicacy and respect.
Perhaps Mr. Adamson’s continued friendship with the Duke in spite of his past should be proof enough for you. I do not think a rector could hold someone in high regard who was not, at the very least, repentant over past wrongs. There is also the element of trust to consider. A true gentleman would never ask you to share his life if he had an unresolved offense in his past. I am convinced that the Duke is a gentleman and that he is not capable of acting so selfishly. Disgruntled and disagreeable he has been, unthinking and unobservant he most certainly was, but he has done nothing intentionally selfish of which we are aware.
You must act as you see fit. My only hope is that I have provided you some measure of the advice you seek. Perhaps you should speak to your father about the situation. He will be able to advise you much more readily. Indeed, he may know more about the Duke’s past than we do; surely he would understand your inquiry if he knew it would directly impact your future happiness.
Martha just interrupted my writing to say that Rupert has been in the house for a quarter of an hour. We are expecting him to dinner, but he is early, and I have not yet begun to dress for the evening. I must close for now. Rest assured that I shall not be easy until you write again and tell me of the decision you make.
Love,
Eleanor
P.S. Oh Isabella, I must add a note about this evening
, or I shall not be able to sleep for thinking about it! I am now certain that Rupert’s sole purpose in arriving early tonight was to ask Papa for my hand—they were both behaving in such an odd manner. Rupert seemed simultaneously exuberant and anxious, and Papa seemed to be watching us attentively throughout the evening. I certainly caught Rupert glance toward Papa when we accidentally brushed hands while sorting music, and again when we stood up together to dance with some of the other guests. Why should he do so unless he and Papa had been speaking about me? I am sorely tempted to ask Papa about it in the morning, but it would not do to take such an important moment away from Rupert. I shall have to be patient.
6 July, 1845
Castle Stirling, Scotland
Dear Eleanor,
Forgive me, my dear cousin, if you are unable to read every word of this letter with the usual degree of clarity. I beg your indulgence as well for any distraction of thought I might display. My hand shakes so, and I hardly know what it is I am writing. How I long for your advice and help! Alas, it is an impossible wish; you can only have received my last letter today. Never have I wished so desperately for a decrease in the distance between us as I do now. But you require details; I shall endeavor to provide them.
The morning after I wrote to you last, we were all at breakfast as usual. The footman brought in the post, and Papa and Lieutenant Potter both had letters; Lieutenant Potter’s was from his family in Manchester, and Papa’s was from his steward.
“Morrison writes to encourage my return to Kent,” he said as he perused the letter. “He thinks I should be home to oversee the tenant farmers’ work. What on earth do I employ him for if I cannot be absent for part of the year?” he added in a sardonic tone. The Duke chuckled slightly, and we glanced at one another in amusement. “He is right, at any rate,” Papa continued. “We have been gone from home quite some time, and there will be much to attend to if we are to expect a decent harvest. I fear we shall have to return sooner than I had intended.”
Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale Page 20
