“Oh, Aurora!” came the protest. “You are so serious. You must become gayer, or you will never succeed in finding a husband for yourself. Men in polite society do not like bluestockings.”
After what seemed an interminable time, the coach pulled up in front of Farminster House. Servants ran from the mansion to lower the coach’s steps, open the door, and help the occupants out. Aurora sighed with gratitude as they entered the warm house. Behind her she could hear her stepsister giving orders to the servants about the baggage.
“Welcome to England, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she heard a voice say.
Looking up as she drew her gloves off, she saw the duke descending the stairs. “Thank you, your grace,” she responded politely.
He took her two cold hands in his warm ones and replied, “I thought we had agreed all those long months ago that you would call me Valerian, Aurora. Lord, you are frozen, I fear. Come into the drawing room, and I will have tea brought. My grandmother has come up from Hawkes Hill with me to greet you. She is waiting for you.”
Ascending the staircase, they entered a magnificent drawing room with a gilded ornamental frieze around its paneled ceiling. The carpets were thick and colorful. The walls were hung with fine portraits, and the mahogany furniture, unlike that in the Indies, was upholstered richly. Heavy velvet draperies hung from the windows, and in a huge fireplace flanked by great stone lions a great warm blaze burned. By the fire sat an elderly lady with snow-white hair. She arose to greet them.
“Grandmama, this is Miss Aurora Spencer-Kimberly,” the duke said. “Aurora, this is my grandmama, the Dowager Duchess of Farminster.”
Aurora curtsied prettily. “How do you do, ma’am,” she said.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth looked sharply at Aurora. Why was the girl’s face familiar? She looked nothing like that foolish Calandra. “How do you do, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she answered the girl. Then, seeing Aurora shiver, she said, “Come by the fire, my dear. You are, of course, not used to our English weather.”
“I fear not, ma’am, although Captain Conway assures me that my blood will thicken, and then I shall not feel the cold as deeply.”
The dowager chuckled, and led the girl to a seat by the fire. Her grandson pulled the bell cord on the wall, and when a servant replied sent the fellow for hot tea. Out in the foyer Cally could be heard laughing, and then she called for her stepsister.
“We are in the east drawing room,” the duke responded.
Cally burst into the room, George and Lord Trahern in her wake. “Hawkesworth!” she said, surprised. “What brings you in from the country?” Then her eye spied the dowager. “Oh! Grandmama has come too. Good evening to you, ma’am.” She offered the dowager a scant curtsy.
“Calandra” came the frosty reply.
“We did not expect you, Hawkesworth,” Calandra said.
“Obviously not, my dear,” he answered her. “Good evening, Trahern.” Then he turned and said, “Welcome to England, George.” The brothers-in-law shook hands. “Come now, and meet my grandmother.”
There was something terribly wrong between Cally and her husband, Aurora thought. They were civil to each other—barely—but there was a coolness between them. For some reason, she felt sorrier for the duke than for her stepsister. The young woman chattering brightly in this room was not the sister she remembered. She could tell from just looking at George that he felt the same way. The butler arrived bearing a large silver tray upon which was a teapot, tea saucers, and a plate upon which were delicate triangles of buttered bread and thin slices of fruitcake.
“Tea? Ohhh, no, no, no, no, no!” Cally trilled. “We would celebrate my brother and stepsister’s arrival with champagne! Bring some up from the cellars!” she ordered the butler.
“Cally, I am so cold,” Aurora told her. “I want tea!”
“Oh, very well, but the rest of us shall have champagne!” Cally declared. “Aurora, I hope your attitude stems from exhaustion, and that you are not going to prove to be a dull guest.”
“It was not my understanding that George and I had come to provide entertainment for you, Cally,” Aurora snapped.
“Good for you, girl!” the old dowager said softly.
“Trahern,” the duke said suddenly. “I thank you for accompanying my wife to Dover, but I would assume that you have an engagement elsewhere this evening. We will excuse you.”
Charles, Lord Trahern, bowed to the Duke of Farminster, a small sardonic smile upon his mouth. “Good evening to you, then, your grace,” he said, bowing. Then he left the room.
“I did not want him to go!” Cally said angrily, stamping her foot.
“He overstayed his welcome” came the response from her husband.
“You are always spoiling my fun!” Cally whined. “And now you have given me the headache. I am going to bed, Hawkesworth, and I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone.”
“Of course, my dear,” the duke said smoothly, and he bowed to her. “Shall I escort you to your room?”
“No!” Cally said sharply, and she departed the drawing room.
There was a long silence. George Spencer-Kimberly looked exceedingly uncomfortable. The dowager looked annoyed. There was a look on Valerian Hawkesworth’s face that Aurora could not fathom. She said, “What has happened to my stepsister? I do not know her any longer.”
“She has, I am afraid,” said the dowager, “been seduced by society. I have seen it happen before with these young girls.” She poured a generous dollop of fragrant tea into a deep saucer and handed it to Aurora. “It is worse with Calandra, for she had no contact with real society before she came to England. She tells me she lived on St. Timothy her entire life, and never even visited Barbados. Why on earth did her father not at least take her to Barbados?”
“I believe our father did not quite see Cally and me as growing up into young women,” Aurora said quietly. She took a sip of her tea. It was hot and satisfying. She took another sip, and then set the saucer down upon a small table. “We did not even know of this marriage arrangement Papa had made until we received your letter, ma’am. Only then did my brother, George, open Papa’s strongbox, and we found the betrothal agreement. Had Valerian just arrived without prior warning on your part, we should have been even more surprised than we were.”
The dowager nodded. “My late husband and your father were obviously cut from the same cloth,” she said. “No need to trouble the ladies until we must, my James used to say.” She shook her head. “As if women cannot manage on their own. Well, we can, but I suppose to keep them happy, we must pretend we cannot.” She peered at Aurora. “You look a far more sensible miss than your sister, child. Are you?”
“We are different, ma’am, I will admit, but we are sisters, and do love each other. Cally calls me a bluestocking. If loving learning makes me such a creature, then I suppose I am.”
“And are you as eager to make your mark on society as is your sister?” the dowager asked Aurora.
“I think I am a trifle afraid of society” was the reply. “From the little I have seen of England so far, it is most overwhelming. The drive from Dover was interesting, but once we reached the city I found myself becoming a trifle uncomfortable. I suppose it is because I am not used to so many people, and so many buildings. I believe I shall prefer Hawkes Hill,” Aurora concluded.
“I’ve lived in England my entire life,” the dowager woman replied, “and I, too, prefer Hawkes Hill.” She smiled, but her eyes were again scanning Aurora’s face. Why did the girl look so familiar? “Valerian!” she called to her grandson. “Bring Mr. Spencer-Kimberly over here so I may get a better look at him.”
The duke complied with her request, flashing a quick grin at his companion. “Now you’re in for it,” he said low.
The dowager looked the young man over carefully. Medium brown hair. Hazel eyes. A stocky build. Of average height. There was nothing in particular to distinguish him, but he did wear his clothes well, and he had a pleasant countenance if only avera
ge features. “I believe,” she said, “that we can find a most suitable wife for you, Mr. Spencer-Kimberly. Not here in London, of course. Too many flibbertigibbets and fortune hunters. But down at Hawkes Hill. A good, sensible country girl who will be a good breeder even in the heat of the Indies.”
“I would be most grateful for your guidance, your grace,” George replied sincerely, a friendly twinkle in his eye.
“Harrumph, and pretty manners to boot.” The dowager chuckled. “You are certainly a different cut from my grandaughter-in-law, I must say. I am amazed the same woman raised you. It must be in the blood.” She rose to her feet. “I am going to show Miss Aurora to her bedroom, Valerian, The child is about to fall asleep on her feet, and has had a long day. Come, girl, we will leave the gentlemen to their own devices.” She exited the drawing room with Aurora stumbling sleepily in her wake.
The butler came to clear away the tea things.
“Bring whiskey,” the duke ordered him.
When they were finally settled by the fire, heavy crystal glasses in their hands, George looked directly at his brother-in-law and said, “What is the matter between you and Cally, Valerian? I’ve never seen her behave as she behaved today, and it is obvious that something is wrong from the way you treat each other.”
For a moment Valerian Hawkesworth considered telling his companion that whatever the problem was, it was not George’s concern, but then he said, “It was a mistake to marry a girl I did not know. It is my fault. Had I remained on St. Timothy for some months instead of being so eager to return to England for the racing season, I should have discovered that your sister is still more of a child than a woman. She would not permit me to consummate our marriage until we had reached England. She feared, she said, in such close quarters as we had aboard the ship that the other passengers might hear us. I acquiesced reluctantly. However, Calandra does not like the act as she so coldly refers to it, yet I swear to you that I am not a cruel or thoughtless lover. She hates being down in the country, and fled to London without my permission three months ago. I thought if I left her here until you and Aurora arrived that perhaps she would get this passion for constant amusement out of her system, but I fear she has not. Her dressmaker’s bills are outrageous. She commissioned a new coach to be built for her. Its interior is completely lined in scarlet velvet, and has crystal accoutrements. She went to Tattersall’s and purchased two snow-white and two pure black horses to pull the damned thing. Do you know how much that cost me, George? And I would be more than willing to indulge her if she were willing to do her duty by Farminster and give me an heir, but she will not! I would not shock you, nor would I appear indelicate, but on the few occasions that I have managed to make love to Calandra—and believe me, George, it is no more than a dozen times in all the months we have been married—your sister lays silent, her head turned away from me as if she cannot bear to look at her husband. It is not easy to rouse one’s passions with such a cold wife. Frankly, I prefer not to, but what choice have I? She is my wife.”
George shook his head, astounded by the duke’s revelations. “Valerian, I do not know what to say to you. I could have never imagined that Cally would behave in such a fashion with you. I am truly sorry.”
Valerian Hawkesworth shook his head. “It is not your fault, George, and I am glad that you and Aurora are here at last. We will remain in London a few weeks, but then we will return to Hawkes Hill. Calandra will come, too, even if I have to drag her by the hair on her head. I have had enough of her childishness! Enough of her friends! Men like Trahern, whose reputations are not the best. Calandra seems to have no sense where her friends are concerned. The time has come, however, for her to do her duty by Farminster and give me an heir. She will not return to London again until she has!”
The two men talked awhile longer by the fire, sipping the amber whiskey in their glasses until it was gone. Then the duke escorted his brother-in-law to his bedroom, and bid him good night.
“Wickham,” George said when he was alone with his servant. “Do you know what room Miss Aurora is in?”
The valet nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Go and learn from Martha whether my sister is still awake.”
The valet hurried out, returning a few moments later. “She’s still up, sir. Follow me.” And he led his master down the hall to Aurora’s room, knocking on the door, and then opening it for his master.
George entered the room to find his sister sitting up in bed in her nightgown, a nightcap on her head, sipping more tea. “Still cold?” he asked her, noting the down coverlet on the bed.
“I’m finally warming up,” she said. “What did the duke have to say? What is the matter with Cally? Martha, bring my brother a chair, and then remain to hear what he has to tell us.”
George sat in the chair that the servant supplied and then told the two women what the duke had reported to him. “Valerian has been very patient, and most understanding, I feel,” he concluded.
“We should hear what Cally has to say,” Aurora told him.
“It will be but her opinion of how she is treated, and have nothing to do with the facts of the matter,” George responded. “You yourself were shocked by her behavior today, Aurora.”
She nodded. “I was,” she admitted, “but this is all so unlike Cally.” She sighed. “Still, the dowager’s words to me but confirm the duke’s more intimate tale to you. What a coil.”
“You should have married him the way your papa planned,” Martha said grimly. “But you would have your own way, and now look what has happened.”
“It is too late for regrets,” Aurora said. “Let us sleep on it, and then we will see how we may help Cally and the duke to mend fences. Surely there is something we can do.”
“The last time you three did something . . .” Martha began.
“Don’t scold us, Martha,” George said, arising. Then he bent and kissed his stepsister. “Good night, Aurora.” As he opened the door, he gave Martha a quick kiss on the cheek too, and then was gone.
“Young devil!” Martha muttered, but she wasn’t angry.
Calandra had not changed her habits of childhood, and would not awaken much before noon, Sally informed them. She was prettily attired in gray with a white lace cap, and looked very smart. But like her mistress, she, too, had changed. She was superior and sharp with Martha, which did not please the older woman.
“Gotten a bit above herself, I’m thinking,” Martha said dourly. She settled a breakfast tray on Aurora’s lap. The tray was set with exquisite fine china and heavy silver service. It contained poached eggs in a heavy cream sauce with peppercorns grated over the top, lovely pink country ham, fresh bread, butter, and honey. “I’ve set the tea on the sidetable, miss,” Martha said.
Aurora ate with greater appetite than she would have thought she had. Everything was absolutely delicious, and seasoned to perfection. When she had finished every single scrap, and was sipping her saucer of tea, there came a knock upon the door. Outside was the duke’s man, Browne. The duke wondered if Miss Aurora would like to take a carriage ride to see some of the city. Her brother, of course, would accompany them, Browne said seriously.
“Tell him yes,” Aurora said to Martha.
Her bath was filled, and she bathed, then dressed, Martha carefully arranging her hair, which was clean and free of salt for the first time in weeks. The servant then set her mistress’s fur-lined cape upon her shoulders, drawing the hood up carefully, and handing her a pair of fur-lined gloves.
“Now, you make certain you keep warm,” she cautioned.
George arrived, and escorted his stepsister down into the wide foyer where the duke was awaiting them.
“Good morning,” he greeted the pair. “The carriage is waiting for us outside. As I am certain that you will want to spend some time with Calandra this afternoon, Aurora, I have arranged for us to have a drive through Hyde Park. You must yet be tired. Is there anything in London that you would like to see?”
“Could we go
to the British Museum?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, not telling her that the museum was open only three hours a day, and that tickets must be obtained weeks in advance. He was certain he could pull a string or two so she might visit this relatively new wonder.
Farminster House was located on the west side of Grosvenor Square. It had been built in 1740. Of redbrick with stone dressings, it stood three stories high, atop which were attics for the servants.
“If it were warmer,” the duke said as they settled themselves in the vehicle, “we should ride in an open carriage, but I believe you will be able to see enough through the windows of this coach.”
The horses stepped smartly around the square and onto Upper Grosvenor Street, which led right into Hyde Park. Aurora was delighted to see how close they were to this beautiful greensward with its watercourses. From Upper Grosvenor they turned onto Park Lane. The park, the duke explained, had once been a royal hunting ground, but had been opened to the public in the previous century. Deer of several varieties could still be found within Hyde Park’s brick walls. The late Queen Caroline had been something of a landscape gardener, and working with the finest architects of her day had done many things to increase the beauty of the park. Among her accomplishments was having the river Westbourne damned to form the Serpentine, an exquisite lake.
“We will just drive about the perimeter of the park today,” Valerian said. “It is still too cold for you to walk abroad. My grandmama would be quite put out if I should be responsible for your getting a chill. Not to mention how angry Calandra would be, for she has great plans, I am certain, to take you about to all the most fashionable parties.”
“I do not believe I shall find the parties as fascinating as I will find the museum,” Aurora replied. Then she said, “George has told me of the estrangement between you and my sister. I will do my best to convince Cally of the errors of her ways.”
Valerian Hawkesworth shook his head. “You are kind, Aurora, but I fear your task an impossible one. I know you little better than I knew Calandra when we were married, and yet I believe you would have made me a far better wife than your sister. What a pity that you were not the heiress I was to wed.”
Deceived Page 8
