From a Paris Balcony

by Ella Carey

  “I’ll see you around five.”

  Sarah thanked him. Hung up the phone. And she turned to walk along the Seine for a while. Alone, but hopeful.

  There were worse ways to be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ashworth, 1893

  Louisa did not sleep well after the ball. By the time she was able to go to bed, she only had a few hours to rest before she had agreed to meet Charles. She had lain awake—her mind awhirl with what her life was going to become. Then her thoughts would turn into a cycle of justification. Of course she had made the right choice. What else could she do?

  She, Henry, Charles, and his parents had gathered in the library when all the guests had left. Charles had not stayed long. He stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed, while Henry told his parents that Louisa had accepted his offer. Straight after that, he had shaken Henry’s hand, kissed Louisa on the cheek, reminding her quietly in her ear of their assignation at nine the following morning, and marched off to bed.

  Henry’s father came straight to the point.

  “Henry has written to your father, Louisa,” he said. “Helena and I are naturally delighted to accept you as a member of the family.”

  Louisa pushed aside the thought that this seemed like a formal address.

  The duke coughed before going on. “Of course, matches between Americans and people from our country are becoming quite the norm. I will have no trouble explaining your ancestry and your position to our friends and family.”

  Louisa started a little at this, but the duke still pushed further. “I look forward to entertaining your father here at Ashworth in the future. His business interests in the Far East are strong enough to warrant this match.”

  Louisa had to stop herself from gasping at the duke’s overt statement of the financial underpinnings that were always left unsaid in the New World. His candor had kept Louisa awake most of the night.

  Now, she let her eyes roam over the park from where she stood at the palace’s front door. She had arrived at the front entrance to the house right on time to meet Charles. A gardener tended the flower beds that sat against the edge of the palace—he looked at her, nodded, and then returned to his work. The lawns by the drive were dewy from their early-morning watering.

  Charles came down the front steps a few moments later. He looked, at first glance, so like Henry had the first time she met him, with his dark riding jacket and pale jodhpurs, that she almost had to remind herself who he was.

  She lifted the skirt of her own gray riding habit and moved up the front steps to greet him.

  “Good morning. I think you and I are the only two awake,” he said.

  “I love the early mornings,” Louisa said. “They are something that I confess I never want to miss.”

  “You were one of the only people up early yesterday morning. I noticed that,” he said. His eyes seemed to roam over her face. “Is everything all right?” he asked, his tone dropping further.

  Louisa started a little. He sounded as if he were asking an intimate question. As if he knew her. She had to shake her head. She sensed that he was reading her. But that was ridiculous. “Yes!” she said, her voice too bright. Lying. Then she pushed that unwelcome thought away.

  She turned and moved down the steps.

  “The stables are this way,” he said, catching up and leading her away from the palace along the driveway.

  Louisa focused on the sound of his boots crunching on the perfectly raked gravel.

  “I think you’d like to learn something of the estate. You’re going to want to get involved. And that’s a good thing,” he said.

  Louisa smiled at this. And she wasn’t surprised.

  “I am interested. Very. And,” she couldn’t help adding, “thank you for understanding.”

  “Why?” His expression was serious.

  Louisa stopped. “Because I fear that not many men would ask a woman such a thing.”

  “Why not?”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  “Yes.”

  “I do want to get involved. I appreciate what you said to me last night,” she said. “That’s all.” She felt a slight frisson pass through her.

  “I know that.” Charles moved toward the stables, and as he did so, he explained the details of the estate, including figures and facts that many men would have thought a woman wouldn’t comprehend or appreciate. But Louisa was entranced to hear the specifics. Charles’s sense of responsibility for the resources in his care seemed inspiring instead of oppressive. His face lit up as he answered her questions and asked her some. And he seemed more relaxed now. Once he started talking about his work, he seemed to forget to ask her probing questions.

  Perhaps, she thought, he approved of her. And for some reason, this afforded her great relief.

  They had come to the high wall that surrounded the stables. An archway, similar to, but on a far grander scale than that at Willowdale, marked the entrance to the stable courtyard.

  “You are very fortunate,” Louisa said, “to be able to have a definite role in life. A purpose that goes beyond, well, the menial, is something that women just don’t get to have.”

  Charles led her into the courtyard. Rows of smart horse boxes overlooked the large gravel space that was lined with wooden pots containing pink and white petunias. A groom cleaned out an empty stall while another young man held two horses ready for Louisa and Charles.

  He stopped just out of earshot of the two young men and leaned down to her. “I want you to promise me that you will follow up on what we talked about last night. You need something to do. It’s possible, but you’ll have to push for it. Promise me you will give yourself a proper role too?”

  Louisa couldn’t help smiling. She couldn’t help nodding right back.

  “Good,” he whispered. “Thank you, Dunlop.” He strode over to one of the grooms. “Could you give Miss Louisa a hand up?”

  Louisa mounted the large gray mare that he had ready for her. The prospect of a ride, and the sense of freedom that always came with it, gave her such pleasure that she almost forgot that she had hardly slept.

  She allowed her horse to take a few steps around the courtyard. Her thoughts were running of their own accord. Henry had never spoken to her of day-to-day matters concerning the estate, and yet Charles had done so and they had only just met. She had always wanted to know about her own family’s business interests, but when she had tried to discuss trading, or China, or anything to do with the firm’s plans with her father, he had rebuffed her and turned the conversation to her latest dress. Now she felt animated, expectant. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, so much that she wanted to learn.

  It was the idea of boredom that she couldn’t stand. The idea of an idle life worried her. If she could help with the estate, work—she hoped—with Charles, and develop interest in starting up local women’s franchise groups, then she could have a fulfilling life. She doubted Henry would object. After all, if his brother’s attitude was anything to go by . . .

  Perhaps things were starting to come together.

  Maybe this was going to work, after all.

  Charles pulled his horse to stand beside hers. “You look lost in thought.” He grinned.

  Louisa shook her head. “I’m just keen to see the real Ashworth, Charles. I’ve really only walked around the park, seen the follies.”

  He nodded. “I know you have,” he said, urging his horse forward. “The first phase in this is to show you the closest farms to the estate. Today, there’s also someone important I want you to meet. And Louisa, call me Charlie. Nobody calls me Charles.”

  Louisa smiled a little to herself. She kicked her horse on, enjoying the change into a trot as she followed Charlie out of the courtyard. They took the horses back along the driveway toward the palace for a time, the sound of the animals’ footsteps resonating through the morning air.

  “Canter?” Charlie asked, once they had passed the palace.

  “Definitely.” Loui
sa urged the gray mare into a gentle, rhythmic gait. They rode companionably for several more minutes, turning off the driveway and onto a wide, rough path that led away from the palace. Once they had reached the boundaries of the park, they skirted woodland on their left. The path turned left after a while, still edging the forest. Soon, a small chapel came into view. A graveyard sat next to it.

  “The third duchess built this,” Charlie said, slowing his horse to a walk. “It was created as a place for comfort for those who may be grieving. Anyone can come in here, if they want some respite. Services are still held here every so often. The graveyard beyond is where our ancestors are buried. I want you to get a sense of the whole of the estate. It’s a working farm, essentially, but there’s so much history here as well. And it’s the people who have made the place what it is. Our ancestors might rest here, but there has been so much input from the villagers into the estate over the centuries too, and we make sure that we look after them, almost as if they are part of the family.”

  Louisa felt a shiver at the sight of the family graves. She focused instead on the sweet little church. The chapel was built of light stone, and ivy hung over the front porch.

  Charlie kept his horse at a slow pace as they passed the ancestral graveyard. It was well tended, and daisies grew among the stones. Louisa was unable to read any inscriptions, but the sight of several tiny headstones in one corner caused her to want to turn away.

  Charlie seemed to sense her discomfort. He looked at her. “Enough of that,” he said, softly. “I have something else to show you. I want you to meet someone I think you will adore.”

  Louisa tilted her head. She suspected that Charlie would never be far away from her new home, and for some reason she took comfort in that. She followed him a little farther along the path, past a small lake, and then into a garden planted with rhododendrons.

  “Oh, how stunning,” Louisa sighed. The sight of the flowers out here reminded her of her childhood, of visits with cousins at their country estate near Falmouth, Massachusetts. She had learned to ride there, had spent hours with Samuel and her cousins out exploring the countryside around that property.

  Now they walked the horses through the garden and followed the path until it ended unexpectedly at a cottage that gave out to fields where sheep grazed. The little two-story house was bordered by a low stone wall. Flowers, typical of a cottage garden, waved in the breeze—hollyhocks, roses, windflowers, and Michaelmas daisies.

  Charlie was on the ground and had hold of both horses before Louisa was able to tear her eyes away from the delectable sight in front of her.

  “The estate employed a vicar here once,” he said. “But now the house belongs to our old governess, Jess. Although, you’ll see, she’s not old at all. I want you to meet her. She was a wonderful teacher until we both went away to school. If there is one person who had a great influence on our lives, it’s Jess.”

  Louisa dismounted. Once Charlie had tethered the horses, she followed him through the low front gate, through the impossibly pretty garden, to the pale blue front door, waiting while he knocked and stood on the doorstep, his arms folded.

  “Jess’s mother, Kate, was the family governess for years,” Charlie said. “But Kate died when Henry and I were young. Jess was only twenty, but she took over her mother’s role. We had a fearsome nanny, so having a wonderful governess was a saving grace. My parents gave her this cottage after she finished her duties with us. She spends her time teaching at the local school and she tends the chapel. Once you and Henry . . . well. Once there is another generation at Ashworth, she will be helping with your children, as long as you are happy. You must make sure that you have a say in those things, you know. Don’t let wheels roll without your approval.”

  “Oh, how serious!” Louisa laughed. But again, she sensed she had an ally. And that, she knew, was not something to take lightly.

  A twinkle of amusement passed through Charlie’s eyes. “Come on.”

  Half an hour later, Louisa felt settled in Jess’s sweet little home.

  “I will always love Ashworth,” Jess said, while pouring out tea and giving them warm scones with raspberry jam. “I am sure that Charles will help you with everything you want to know.”

  Louisa pushed away the thought that Jess had not mentioned Henry. She focused on the woman—her soft brown hair was in a loose bun and tendrils fell around her face. Had she ever married? She seemed quite content with her life as it was . . .

  “Louisa?” Charlie was chuckling at her.

  “Sorry, I am prone to going off into random thoughts,” Louisa laughed. She had lost the drift of the conversation, but the sense of rapport and contentment between Charlie and Jess was clear. They chatted for a while longer. Jess congratulated Louisa on her engagement, and Charlie shared that he wanted Louisa to find herself a proper role on the estate.

  “I think that is an admirable thing.” Jess’s brown eyes were warm. “I commend any woman who wants to make a contribution to the world beyond the domestic sphere.”

  Louisa held the woman’s gaze for a second, sensed Charlie’s approval and warmth toward Jess, and felt, somehow, that she was among kindred spirits here, in this little cottage. She couldn’t help but contrast this with the cold comments her future father-in-law had made the previous night. But still, she supposed he was only playing the role he had been brought up to play.

  She just hoped Henry would take a more modern approach. By all rights, it seemed that he would do so. She doubted his father frequented Paris, or questioned the role he was born to play in any way at all. So she reminded herself of that for now.

  When it was time to leave, Charlie leaned down and hugged his old governess. “I’m going to show Louisa some of the tenant farms,” he told her. “And, on the way, we’ll ride through the village.”

  “Excellent, Charlie.”

  Clearly, Jess held him in high esteem.

  And as they left the cottage, Louisa couldn’t help wondering what sort of student each of the boys had made. She pushed the picture of Henry as a young boy out of her head for some reason.

  “Let’s go,” Charlie said.

  “Jess is lovely.” Louisa smiled. She followed Charlie back down the path to the horses.

  “She is,” Charlie replied. They walked the horses through the field beyond Jess’s little house toward Ashworth village, which was set in the valley. Charlie kicked his horse into a canter, and Louisa followed him. There was a square, one side of which was bordered by a low stone wall that led to the churchyard and the village cemetery. Other than that, the square was bordered by a rectory and several well-tended cottages. Everything looked prosperous here. It was clear that the family did take care of their villagers, and the person who was responsible for that was also clearly Charlie.

  Charlie stopped at a row of cottages. Old trees lined the road in front of them, providing cool shade for the horses for a few moments. “These houses are for workers on the estate. We also have the farms that surround the area. I’ll show you those, if you like. Then we’d better get you back to Ashworth. Henry will be up soon.”

  Louisa sensed Charlie watching her. She urged her horse on.

  As they rode past several tenant farms, Charlie chatting easily with the farmers who were out in their fields, Louisa felt more at home at Ashworth than she ever had before.

  He took her back to the palace along a different road than the one they had taken on the way out. It was overhung with trees, and a small stream ran along one side of it. They walked their horses back, which suited Louisa. She didn’t want to rush the return journey by cantering or galloping.

  Louisa leaned forward and patted her horse as they rounded the driveway and made their way back to the stables. As always, she had bonded with the animal.

  Charlie pulled his mount to a halt. “Louisa, I’m going to go back out to work now. Are you happy to see yourself back into the house?”

  “Of course,” she said. She looked across at him. Her horse
took a few steps toward the stable. “Someone’s tired,” she said.

  Charlie patted his own horse. “I know. I’ll feed Ruby once we’re at the farm I’m going to. She can rest while I meet with the farmer.”

  Louisa nodded. “Thank you,” she said.

  “A pleasure. Just let me know if you want to go out again, or if you need anything else. I’m always here.”

  She smiled at him.

  He caught her eye for a moment, but then he turned his horse and cantered off toward the forest.

  Three days later, Louisa sat at her dressing table in her bedroom at Ashworth. Her thick golden hair had been dressed in the most fashionable style—soft curls fell around her face while the rest of her hair was gathered high on the back of her head. Her dress had a golden bodice that was scooped across her décolletage. The silk skirt fell from a tight waist and was hemmed with layers of gold and silver.

  It was the perfect dress in which to be engaged.

  A telegram had been sent to Louisa’s father in Hong Kong, and he had wired back his approval. But another piece of correspondence had arrived at almost exactly the same time as Louisa’s father’s, and it was the second letter that, were she to be honest, had afforded her far more interest than her father’s expected response.

  Louisa gazed at the two envelopes. They sat near her silver brushes and her bottles of perfume. The second letter was from Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst. Louisa had continued to read about the Women’s Franchise League and had written to Mrs. Pankhurst directly, having come to the conclusion that if she were marrying the heir to a dukedom, then her mother could hardly banish her for writing to Mrs. Pankhurst.

  Louisa’s interest in Mrs. Pankhurst had deepened even further once she had received a letter back so promptly. She had also become increasingly drawn to the fact that the woman had combined marriage and motherhood with her passionate advocacy for women to be the center of their own worlds.

  Louisa surveyed her reflection in the glass. Mrs. Pankhurst’s husband was a barrister who supported her involvement in women’s rights. There seemed no reason that a woman could not furnish her heart at the same time as her mind.