The household was up early. The baths were filled, and all involved bathed. Tea was brought to each bedroom. Cally’s maid, Sally, was so sick with her excitement that she vomited twice.
“What’s the matter with you?” Martha asked the younger woman.
“I’m going ’ome!” Sally said. “I’m going to see England again, and be personal maid to a duchess!” Sally’s term of bondage had ended several years earlier. She had always been homesick for England, but had never had the means to return. She had been transported for debt. The only means of support she had was here with Calandra. Now she had been asked to accompany her mistress, and she was thrilled. “Don’t tell me, Martha ’enry, that you won’t be ’appy to see England again.”
“You ain’t going to remain personal maid to a duchess long if you don’t put those H’s back on your words, Sally me girl,” Martha told the younger woman sternly. “I thought we had learned you better these past ten years. A duchess’s servant got to talk more posh. You want to end up back in the same London slum from where you came?”
“Gawd, no!” Sally exclaimed. She looked worried. “Maybe I ought to stay put right here on St. Timothy.”
“Don’t be a ninny,” Martha said. “Just remember to speak careful, and learn everything you can from the Hawkesworth family servants. You’ve got the next couple of weeks to make friends, and ask questions of Browne, the duke’s valet. And by make friends I don’t mean you should go and seduce the poor fellow. And if anyone should question your authority, and try and steal your place, just remember to be tough and remind ’em that you’ve been with her grace since she was a child. Few will challenge an association like that. Be pleasant, but don’t trust anyone until you got a real good lay of the land. The dowager duchess will have a favorite serving woman. Make friends with her and defer to her judgment. With a strong ally like that, you ain’t got nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, Martha! I’m going to miss you!” Sally’s plain face was woebegone. Her gray eyes were teary.
“Go on with you,” Martha said gruffly, but she was feeling a bit weepy too. When Sally departed, she would have no close woman friend of her own class. But it was only for a little while, she reminded herself. Her eye went to the windows, and then she said, “Look out in the harbor. The Royal George is sailing in, and the bride not ready!”
Cally’s wedding gown was brought forth. It was a beautiful garment of cream-colored satin. The round neckline was edged in matching lace that matched the engageants falling from the three-quarter sleeves. The skirt opened in the front to reveal a brocade underskirt embroidered in a delicate floral pattern with gold thread. The skirt was gathered full at the hips with flounces and ruches, and lay over its underskirt and several stiffened petticoats. Calandra’s dark hair was gathered into a chignon, and one long curl was coaxed to lie over her left shoulder. She wore no jewelry except for pear-shaped pearl earbobs and a small gold cross on a fine gold chain. Carefully she slipped her stocking feet into low-heeled cream brocade shoes with small gold rosettes. Then she looked at herself in the long mirror.
Calandra Hawkesworth. It had a noble ring to it. Calandra, Duchess of Farminster, she thought, and preened before the glass. Yes. She looked like a duchess. She was going to be a great success in England. “I am beautiful,” she said aloud to no one in particular.
“You are, and that’s the truth,” Martha told her with a smile, “but don’t you forget when you get to England, that pretty is as pretty does, Miss Calandra. I’ll want to hear good things of you when we arrive.”
Oralia came into the bedroom and stopped, her hand going to her heart as she viewed her daughter. “Oh, my, my, darling! It is perfect. You look regal.” She handed Cally a small spray of star-shaped white orchids. Then she asked, “Where is Aurora?”
“Here, Mama.” Aurora entered by the door that connected her room and Cally’s. Her gown was almost identical to her sister’s except that it was pale rose-colored silk. The visible underskirt was of cream brocade, hand painted with tiny blue forget-me-nots. Her matching shoes had pink rosettes, and her brown-gold hair was fashioned with twin ringlets on either side of her head. Her only jewelry was a gold cross that matched her sister’s.
“Oh, how lovely you look!” Oralia said, pleased. She presented her stepdaughter with a bouquet of pink hibiscus and green ferns.
George popped his head in the door. “Captain Conway and the Reverend Mr. Edwardes have arrived. The bridegroom is waiting eagerly. Are you ladies ready?”
“Escort me down, George, and then you may come and get your sister,” Oralia said, gesturing to the two servants to accompany her.
The two sisters were alone for a brief moment.
“You’re certain you’re not sorry?” Cally said. “This is a wonderful and generous thing you have done, Aurora, but even I know Papa would not approve.”
“I am not sorry,” Aurora assured her, “and Papa would want me happy first and foremost. You know that. Now, you be happy, Cally.”
“Ohhh, I just know I will! I am going to be a duchess, and live in England. I cannot wait to get there and become a part of society!”
“And Valerian? Do you give no thought to him?” Aurora was just slightly troubled by Cally’s childish attitude.
“Valerian? Well, he will be my husband. What else is there?” Cally replied. “I’m certain we shall get on quite well.”
George returned. “Come, my little sisters. ’Tis time.”
They left the bedchamber, and Aurora descended the staircase first, moving slowly so that everyone would have a chance to see and admire Calandra. Of course only the servants were there to see, besides the ship’s captain and the Anglican minister who stood with his back before the open door of the house. To his left stood the duke, dressed simply but elegantly in pale fawn-colored breeches, full at the top and fitted above the knee, below which he wore white stockings. His coat was of black velvet, and his waistcoat a white brocade embroidered with black thread garlands. He had silver buckles on his shoes, and lace at his throat and cuffs. Reaching the minister, Aurora stepped to the left and turned to see her stepsister.
Cally moved gracefully, her little hand upon George’s arm. When they arrived before the Reverend Mr. Edwardes, Valerian stepped forward, and George gave his sister’s hand into that of the duke and stepped into Valerian’s former place as George had two roles to fulfill in this wedding. He was to give the bride away, and he was also the best man.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together today in the sight of God and this company to join together this man and this woman,” intoned the Anglican minister.
How long had it been since she had been to church? Aurora wondered. The minister had come from Barbados for her father’s funeral, and before that? She could not remember. Her father would have liked to have had a clergyman on St. Timothy, but without a congregation it would have been good money wasted, he always said. The slaves had their own religion, and a family of five plus their servants was hardly worth the bother. So the minister was sent for only when he was needed. Hardly an ideal arrangement, Aurora thought. When I go to England I shall go to church every Sunday, she decided. England. What fate was awaiting her there? Only time would tell. Her mind wandered here and there for the next few minutes, and then she heard the minister say, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” He joined their hands. “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.” Then the Reverend Mr. Edwardes smiled at the couple. “You may kiss the bride, your grace.”
Knowing her shyness, Valerian quickly and lightly brushed Calandra’s lips with his own. She looked very surprised.
Oralia kissed her daughter and then the duke. “I am so very happy for you both!” she said, her eyes filled with tears.
The newlyweds were then congratulated by their relations, Captain Conway, and the servants before they adjourned to the dining room for a wedding breakfast. While they ate, the trunks were being carried from the house, put into a cart,
and taken down to the harbor to the ship. When the last toast was drunk, Captain Conway arose from his place.
“I do not wish to rush your grace, but the sooner I can weigh anchor today, the sooner we will reach England.”
“Of course,” the duke agreed, standing and drawing Cally up with him. “You will want to change, my dear. Sally, take your mistress upstairs, and do not dawdle.”
“Yes, yer grace,” Sally said smartly. She and Martha had been invited to the table, being old and treasured retainers.
In a surprisingly short time the new Duchess of Farminster returned, dressed fashionably in a gaily flowered Pompadour taffeta travel dress, a broad-brimmed straw hat with blue ribbons, and lace mitts upon her pretty hands. “I am ready,” she said in a breathless voice.
Oralia began to cry. Both her daughter and stepdaughter rushed to comfort her. “I am being foolish, I know,” she sniffed.
“Now, Mama, you must reconsider your decision and come to England with Aurora and George in late autumn,” Cally said.
Oralia shook her head. “I do not like to travel,” she replied. “When you have had a baby or two, or three, bring them home one winter to St. Timothy for their grandmama to see before she dies.”
“Now, Mama,” Aurora said, struggling not to laugh. “You are not going to die for many years to come. You are far too young. Give Cally your blessing, and a kiss so they may be under way.”
Oralia sighed, but did as her stepdaughter suggested, kissing first Calandra, and then Valerian Hawkesworth. “Take care of my darling child,” she instructed the duke.
“I will, ma’am,” he promised her.
Cally then hugged her stepsister, her brother, and finally Martha. “I shall look forward to seeing you in a few months.”
George grinned. “Together,” he said.
“Forever!” Cally responded.
“As one!” Aurora finished their pledge.
Valerian Hawkesworth looked puzzled, and the trio laughed.
“Your wife will explain to you,” Oralia said. “Now, go, before I cannot let you go!” She put her handkerchief to her mouth.
The duke helped his bride into the open carriage, and with a wave they were off down to the harbor, Captain Conway, Browne, and Sally following in their own conveyance.
“I do not know if I can bear it,” Oralia said softly.
“Be of good cheer, ma’am,” the Reverend Mr. Edwardes said. “It is God’s will that a daughter leave her mother’s house for a husband. Your daughter has married incredibly well. Be thankful!”
“George,” Aurora said quickly, “would you be so good as to take our kindly minister down to the boat and have Franklin sail him back over to Barbados. The winds are brisk today, and I believe he can be home in time for lunch. It was so good of you to come to St. Timothy to marry Cally and Valerian, but we cannot keep you further from your parish duties, Reverend Edwardes.” She smiled sweetly.
“Happy to come, Miss Aurora,” he replied. “I hope I shall next see you wed to some fine young man. We have several suitable gentlemen in my parish, among whom might be one who would suit you.”
“Perhaps I shall come over to Barbados for a visit after my brother and I return from England next year, sir,” she replied.
“Your dear mama will be all right, won’t she?” the minister inquired solicitously. “Losing a daughter is hard, I know. My good wife and I have married off four in as many years.”
“Mama will be fine,” Aurora assured him.
“Come along, sir,” George said brightly, understanding that Aurora wanted the man gone before Oralia might say something revealing. He took the rector by the arm. “I shall see to his fee,” he murmured to his stepsister, and then he hustled the Reverend Mr. Edwardes out the door before another moment could pass by.
Part II
ENGLAND, 1761
Chapter 4
“Is it always this cold in England?” Aurora asked Captain Conway as the Royal George prepared to dock at Dover. She shivered, drawing her hooded cape about her. The deep green wool was lined in rabbit, the hood trimmed with lynx. There were several flannel petticoats beneath her gown, and she was wearing knitted woolen stockings, but she was still chilled to the bone. She shivered.
“It’s January, Miss Aurora,” the captain said, “and in England January is always a cold month. Then, too, it’s particularly icy out here on the water. It will be better once you’re ashore, and your blood will thicken soon enough so that you won’t feel the cold.”
“I hope so!” Aurora responded. England. It was the most colorless place she had ever seen. The sea was dark, as were the buildings on the shore. The sky was gray, and there was snow everywhere. She had heard of snow, but of course until then she had never seen it.
George joined her at the rail as the captain excused himself. “Are you as cold as I am?” he asked her.
Aurora nodded. “There is no color,” she remarked. “It’s quite grim. I cannot imagine Cally likes it much, although her letter, when she wrote, did not offer any complaint.”
“Mama lives for her letters,” George replied. “We must see that Cally writes her more often. She cannot be so overwhelmed with her duties as a duchess that she has no time to write Mama.”
“Do Wickham and Martha have everything packed and ready for us to disembark? Do you think the duke will meet us?”
“He’ll probably send a coach to take us up to London,” George said. “And, yes, the trunks are ready.”
They returned to the salon to warm themselves. Very shortly the Royal George docked, its heavy lines securing it to the shore. The gangway was lowered, and the passengers began to depart the ship. Actually there had been few passengers on this crossing: a children’s tutor returning to England on the death of his mother, two young women from Barbados who were being sent to school, and their chaperon, a rather quiet older woman coming to visit her daughter, who was married to a clergyman in Oxfordshire. They had all been mightily impressed by the two siblings from St. Timothy, who, the captain had informed them, were coming to England to visit their sister, the Duchess of Farminster.
As George and Aurora stepped to the head of the gangway, they saw Cally waving madly to them and calling their names. She stood next to a magnificent traveling coach, and was accompanied by a gentleman, not her husband. They hurried off the ship, Wickham and Martha following.
Cally hurled herself enthusiastically at her brother and stepsister. “Darlings! I thought you would never get here!” She hugged them both, kissing them on their cheeks. Her scent was overwhelming.
“Where is Valerian?” George questioned his sister as the baggage was being loaded on a smaller coach in which the servants would travel. “I thought perhaps he would come with you.”
“Valerian? I really don’t know where he is,” Cally said in unconcerned tones. “Possibly he is down in the country. Dear brother, we were misled. He may bear the title of duke, but the man is a farmer! Imagine! A farmer! He would rather spend his time with his horses and cattle and sheep than in the society of elegant people.”
“No matter, Cally,” Aurora said sharply. “You still bear the title of duchess, and do not, as far as I can see, want for anything.”
“Oh, Aurora, it is good that you have not changed. Did I not tell you, Trahern? Her wit is wonderfully sharp.” She had turned to the man accompanying her. He was very tall, and slender, and fair. “Trahern, this is my sister, Aurora. Aurora darling, this is Charles, Lord Trahern. I brought him especially for you.”
“How embarrassing for both me and for Lord Trahern,” Aurora answered her stepsister, annoyed. “I think you know, Cally, how very much I dislike anyone choosing a gentleman for me.” Her meaning was very pointed, and for the briefest moment Calandra looked uncomfortable.
Then she giggled. “Oh, you are so naughty!” she simpered. Lord Trahern’s thin lips had twitched with amusement when Aurora had delivered her put-down of her stepsister. Now he caught Aurora’s gloved hand, and
raising it to his lips, kissed it. “Miss Spencer-Kimberly, I am delighted to meet you, even if you are not delighted to meet me.” Calandra had been babbling for weeks about this sibling, and what a good match she would be. God knows he needed a wife with an income, but this girl was far too intelligent to be fooled, unlike dear little Calandra, whose sole interests were bound up with her own pleasures and her own desires. He returned Aurora’s hand.
“Cally,” George said, “you may be used to this weather, but we are not. Let us get into your coach. Where are you taking us?”
“London!” Cally said brightly. “It’s a long drive, but we will go straight through. Trahern was kind enough to arrange for extra horses for the coach along the way. Come along now!”
It was a good fifty-mile drive. They stopped three times to exchange horses on both the coaches. Twice they stopped to eat, use the necessary, and get warm by an inn fire. They had docked just after dawn. When they arrived in London it was already dark, and Aurora was still cold and exhausted. Cally had chattered almost the entire way. She babbled about society, and fashion, and the latest gossip.
“The king is to be married this year,” she said.
“The king to wed? He’s too old,” George said.
“Ohhh! You don’t know, do you? Well,” she answered her own question, “how could you. The old king died in late October. We have a nice new king, and he’s going to marry some German princess, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. He’s very handsome, the king.” She giggled. “Dull, but handsome. Do you know how the old king died?” She lowered her voice. “He was on his commode!” And she giggled wildly again. “His commode! Of course they hushed it up so the common people would not hear and make a mockery of it, but naturally they did. All of Europe knows that old King George died sitting on his commode!”
“How mean-spirited of you, Cally,” Aurora chided her stepsister.
Deceived Page 7
