Whitefield Hall: Novella

by Nora Covington

  “Well, he shall not touch me,” I said emphatically.

  “This is why I forewarn you, my dear,” Lady Catherine said. “To my shame, I have turned a blind eye in the past, praying he would mend his ways.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “Thank you for the warning. I shall be most diligent not to encourage him while in his presence and will dissuade any forwardness on his part.” With set boundaries, I felt ready to deal with any advances that might come my way.

  “I do have my eyes upon a charming heiress for Dudley,” her ladyship announced.

  Surprised by the news, I glanced in her direction, noting Lady Catherine’s mischievous grin. “Who?” I blurted in curiosity.

  “Lady Buford of Liverpool. She is a woman of title and wealth. They would make an excellent match.” Her voice sounded assured in her choice.

  “From your description of his character, it does not appear that he is ready for the responsibility of marriage.” I thought it a wise assessment on my part. Once a rogue, always a rogue, I concluded in my mind. Surely, he would be an unfaithful and dreadful husband.

  “You can be assured that Lady Buford is his perfect match. She is very forthright in attitude and may be the one to put him in his place.” Her ladyship spoke with conviction.

  “Do they hold affectionate feelings toward one another?” I leaned in toward her ladyship as if waiting to hear a tidbit of juicy gossip.

  Lady Catherine began to open her mouth and speak, when we heard footsteps approaching. To my surprise, the baron arrived, interrupting us at an inconvenient time.

  “Well, now,” he said, glancing back and forth. “What are you up to in the rose garden?” he asked with a tone of amusement.

  Lady Catherine rose to her feet, and I followed suit.

  “We are partaking in a stroll, enjoying the fresh air,” she responded tartly.

  The baron inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Ah, yes, the freshness of the countryside,” he said.

  “The air is much more agreeable here than in London,” I chimed in to let him know my thoughts. At the sound of my voice, the baron opened his eyes. He reached out, grabbed my upper arm, and pulled me down the pathway. “Walk with me,” he ordered.

  “But I am in your mother’s company,” I protested. Lady Catherine, to my utter surprise, turned her back and headed toward the house. Aghast that she abandoned me to her son’s devices, I stumbled and regained my footing.

  Irritated that he still held my arm, though not so tight that it wounded, I pulled away. “All right, then,” I answered indignantly. “I am perfectly capable of walking without your assistance.”

  “After your last few steps, that is debatable,” he said, dropping his hand.

  “What is it that you want with me?” I asked, being suspicious of his intentions. In my mind, I envisioned him as a snake in the garden about to charm me with his wiles. As a result, I postured myself and glared at him defiantly.

  “You appear to be on edge, Miss Gleadhell. Relax. We are merely taking a stroll through the garden,” he cajoled.

  Tense and ready to slap him should he attempt to take liberties, I found it impossible to feel calm. Lady Catherine painted such a horrid picture of her son that, by now, I judged and condemned the baron without hearing evidence otherwise. While ruminating about his personality, he halted in his step.

  “No doubt my mother has already poisoned your mind regarding my character,” he stated. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

  His voice, surprisingly convincing, stunned me. The baron’s eyes carried a glint of sympathy, as if I were duped. For a moment, I wondered if Lady Catherine had done so for some strange purpose. He appeared assured that was the case, so I confessed the truth.

  “Your mother warned me of your ways,” I said. My voice slightly trembled betraying my underlying mistrust. I drew in a deep breath to calm my jitters. “In fact, she thinks you may try to seduce me.” I shot him a daring glance ready to defend myself if needed, using physical strength. It mattered not that he towered over me by at least ten inches and could squash me like a bug in the garden.

  The baron roared with laughter. “Oh, dear God. My mother never ceases to amaze me.” His movement of raking his fingertips through his dark hair repeated itself. “And I suppose you believed every feigned word of it.”

  “Well, why shouldn’t I?” My hands planted firmly on my hips to make a point. “I have no cause to think that she would lie.”

  Shaking his head back and forth in disbelief, the baron began a slow stroll down the pathway again. For a brief moment, I wanted to abandon him and run back into the house. To my chagrin, I felt drawn to follow since he posed another scenario that I needed to hear.

  “So what is the truth, your lordship?” I asked, keeping a civil tone.

  He halted and looked at me. The sunshine gleamed off the strands of his black hair, causing it to shine like polished ebony. I found myself mesmerized by his hazel eyes. He did possess qualities that were physically intriguing, if nothing else.

  “The truth is my mother doesn’t want a companion. It is something that I insist upon, so to punish me she tells lies about my character to such an extent that the young ladies disappear one after another.” He paused momentarily and squinted a worried frown. “Frankly, it amazes me how quickly they vanish. They are here one day and gone into thin air the next.”

  “I cannot believe it,” I countered. I could feel my brow crease over the accusation. “She has been very kind and accepting of me since my arrival. In fact, she has told me of her pleasure in my company.”

  He chuckled. “She has accomplished her task of making you wary of me in a matter of minutes.” He placed the palm of his hand on his right cheek. “In fact,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “I can almost feel the forthcoming slap you hold in your hand.”

  “Well, the way you gawked at me the other evening, made me feel uncomfortable.” I sneered.

  “I do have a habit of enjoying the sight of a female body, especially one as perfect as your own.” He reached out, took my hand, and kissed it lightly. “Forgive me for my insensitive and crude behavior,” he entreated. “I hope my ogling did not embarrass you.”

  I carefully weighed the sincerity of his words and scrutinized the gentle kiss upon my hand. “Your mother calls you a snake,” I announced with suspicion. “Your charm at this moment is close to being the serpent in the garden.” A coy grin brightened my face.

  “A snake’s bite is full of deadly poison,” he somberly replied. “I assure you wholeheartedly, Miss Gleadhell, my intentions are not to harm you by any means. My mother, on the other hand, may possess different plans for your future.”

  At that moment, I did not know what to believe. Any hope of a trusting relationship with Lady Catherine vanished into thin air. Something in the baron’s gaze told me to trust him instead. It was unsettling and confusing, to say the least. A thought popped into my head, and I blurted out a discourteous inquiry.

  “Why are you not married, Lord Beaumont? I’m sure any lady would be happy to call you her husband.” I tilted my head and kept my eyes on him, waiting for some hint of truth or deception.

  “Oh, yes, Lady Buford,” he smirked. “My mother seems to think we would make a good match of convenience, family breeding, and blending of fortunes.” He shuffled his feet and looked mortified. “I would rather marry for love, regardless of what my station or society demands of me.”

  “How very admirable,” I replied. However, I doubted his genuineness on that point. It would be a rare occurrence for a titled man to marry beneath his station.

  Marry for love, his words replayed in my mind. What did I know about romance? Nothing, and it would not be the path I would ever walk in life. I had come to terms with my place in the world. Marriage and children would be something others would experience but not me. Of course, it was impossible to mourn something I had never known except in a novel. No bitterness or anger held a place in my heart.
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  “Why are you not married?” Lord Beaumont pointedly asked. “You are very attractive, intelligent, and warm in personality,” he continued. “Surely someone of your class would be proud to call you his wife.” He paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps a successful businessman,” he encouraged.

  A tone of snobbery returned to the baron’s voice. It pricked as if a thorn from a rosebush had punctured my heart. It was disconcerting and humiliating. Living with a clergyman who saw no boundaries amongst humans had been far different from life in a house of peerage. Lines existed. Mother and son had acutely demarcated my place at Whitefield Hall. He insinuated he would consider marrying beneath his station, but his words betrayed him. The baron’s contradictions angered me.

  “I beg your pardon.” Feeling insulted and indignant, the impulse to abandon him returned. I did not hesitate but acted on the prodding and turned away. As I lifted my skirt to sprint from his side, he reached out and grabbed me by the arm.

  “Where are you going?” he gruffly asked.

  When I turned my head, I saw his eyes narrow into angry slits. “Back to the house,” I said, trying to pull away from him.

  “You are not free to leave, Miss Gleadhell, until I give you leave to do so,” he said. “Companion or not, you are still the hired help at Whitefield Hall.”

  A chilling fear ran through my veins, so I ceased my struggle. Irritated he meant to keep me in his presence, I boldly lifted my chin and met his angry glare with one of my own.

  “Might I have your permission to return indoors, your lordship?”

  The baron studied me carefully, not immediately answering my inquiry. A moment later he dropped his hand from my arm.

  “Go then, if that is what you wish,” he grumbled through clenched teeth. “But I reiterate, Miss Gleadhell, you should be wary of my mother. Wherever there are snakes in the garden, there are also poisonous spiders.”

  The darkness in his eyes and the stern tone of his voice made a credible warning. Confused and not knowing who to trust, I gave a quick curtsy and sprinted toward the doorway. When I arrived, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the baron standing firm watching my retreat. The expression of concern unsettled me further.

  No Consorting

  The bothersome encounters in the garden with Lady Catherine and the baron increased my wariness. I spent my time in their presence being cordial outwardly but inwardly cautious. When I found the courage to ask her ladyship why she abandoned me in the garden with her son, her perplexing reply only complicated matters.

  “Why to test your resolve, my dear. Why else would I leave you with him?”

  I wondered if she hoped for my success in putting off the baron’s advances or if she secretly hoped for me to fail so she could dismiss me. As the days passed, my life became a perplexing contradiction.

  Regardless of the mystery, Lady Catherine turned her attention toward an upcoming soirée to be held at Whitefield Hall. Her ladyship had two motives in doing so—one to invite Lady Buford and the second to introduce me into her circle of society. Naturally, meeting others would be a pleasure, but my curiosity about Lady Buford held far greater interest. The evening would hold some entertainment watching the baron’s reaction toward the young woman, as well as his mother’s wiles to bring them together.

  When the day of the affair arrived, I chose a rose-colored evening gown from my new wardrobe. About an hour before the event, a soft knock came at my bedchamber’s door. To my surprise, Miss Wade, Lady Beaumont’s lady’s maid greeted me with a smile.

  “Lady Beaumont asked me to assist you in getting ready for this evening,” she announced, pushing past me and entering my bedchamber.

  Astonished by her arrival, I remembered her ladyship’s stern warning about consorting with the servants. I could not help but wonder what secrets Miss Wade knew about her employer and the baron.

  “I am surprised at her offer,” I said. Perhaps she had come in a dual role—one as a maid and the other as a spy to test me.

  “Don’t be,” she replied. “I’ve assisted the prior companions that graced this household.” The maid inspected my dress draped across the foot of the bed. “A good choice for the evening.” She turned around and examined me as if I were a challenge. “Sit at the vanity, Miss Gleadhell,” she said, “And I will help you with your hair.”

  I welcomed her offer, for getting my coiffure to look respectable at an evening affair presented a challenge. “Of course,” I eagerly complied, walking over and sitting down. Miss Wade took no hesitation in picking up my brush and pulling it through my long, disarrayed locks.

  “You do a splendid job for Lady Beaumont,” I said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. I thought a compliment might be a good entrance to start a discussion.

  “Thank you for noticing. She never thanks me for anything, frankly,” she replied, displaying a discontented frown.

  “I’m sorry to hear of it,” I said. By the expression on Miss Wade’s face, she appeared extremely unhappy. “Have you been at Whitefield Hall for long?”

  “Five years this October,” she replied.

  “Then you must have met the other companions before I arrived.” I could not help but pry, being tempted to discover the reasons for their departure. Miss Wade’s brow rose.

  “Consorting, are we?” She pursed her lips as if she had heard that warning spoken to her many times as well.

  I held my breath afraid that I overstepped my boundary. Apparently, even the lady’s maid had been warned not to fraternize with others on the staff. A moment later, Miss Wade’s stern face softened, and she smiled.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Miss Gleadhell. Everyone on the staff has heard Lady Beaumont’s warnings. No one is to befriend anyone. Her edict is to make sure there is no idle gossip at Whitefield Hall, but I assure you it occurs.”

  “Gossip?” The word brightened my eyes, wondering if Miss Wade would say more.

  “Can you tell me why so many companions have arrived and left? I hear conflicting stories from the baron and her ladyship.”

  Miss Wade laughed. “Let me see if I can articulate the problem. Lady Beaumont blames her son, while he blames his mother.”

  “I find the multiple prior employees disconcerting,” I admitted. Miss Wade finished her expert hairdressing skills by creating a fine-looking coiffure but did not respond to my statement.

  “You should wear a little rouge and lipstick,” she counseled. “Your complexion looks dull. Do you have any?”

  “Yes, in the drawer,” I answered, pulling it out and displaying my sparse collection.

  “Well, I guess this will have to do.” Miss Wade chose a few items. “Turn around and let me do your lovely face.”

  Of course, I obliged her request and allowed her ladyship’s maid to apply powder, rouge, and a hint of lipstick. It was more makeup than I cared to wear and hoped that I would not appear like a loose woman during my first entrance into the Beaumont’s social circle.

  “There now,” Miss Wade announced, sounding pleased. “You are a picture of beauty.”

  As I glanced in the mirror, it was true—I did look beautiful. It increased my confidence about the evening ahead. “Thank you so much for your help.” I rose to my feet. “I’m not afraid to give acknowledgment, especially to a fellow employee.”

  “It is much appreciated,” she replied. “The aristocracy can be quite cold and cruel in their highfalutin social status.” She eyed me warmly. “You, on the other hand, are a step above the rest of us in this household and privy to many more things than I will ever be. The fact that this evening you will be in the company of the baron and some of his friends would make any woman jealous.”

  “Jealous?” I could not help but repeat the words. “I don’t understand your sentiment,” I admitted, cocking my head to the right in disillusionment.

  “No matter what Lady Beaumont tells you to spoil his lordship’s character, do not believe her for one moment.” Miss Wade glanced at the clock on the man
tel. “Oh, dear, I must let you dress. The hour is late. Shall I help you?”

  Disappointed that many matters remained unanswered, I regarded Miss Wade with sadness. “No, that is fine. You may go.”

  “As you wish,” she said, nodding her head.

  As Miss Wade neared the door, I called out to her anxiously. “I do hope that we might consort again,” I said warmly. “That is if you don’t mind the risk of doing so.”

  “I’m not sure that is wise, Miss Gleadhell. Should Lady Beaumont discover any hint of friendship, both of us could be punished or dismissed without a second thought on her part.” She exited and closed the door behind her, leaving me utterly confused.

  “Punished?” The word shockingly echoed through my mind, giving warning. “What on earth does she mean?”

  After glancing at the clock and noting the late hour, I brushed the thought aside. I needed to join Lady Catherine in the drawing room. After hastily dressing and taking one last glance in the cheval mirror, I felt pleased with my appearance. I flung open the door to my bedchamber and gasped. Standing on my threshold was the baron.

  “You startled me,” I snapped, bringing my hand to my chest to catch my breath. I frowned over his nearness and attempted to sidestep around him into the hallway. “What are you doing here?” After giving him a disconcerting frown, he merely stood there surveying my gown. Logically, I assumed illicit thoughts were traveling through his mind as his eyes rested upon my low neckline.

  “What a divine picture of heavenly bliss,” he said. “I’ve never seen such a lovely vision, Miss Gleadhell.”

  “You need not flatter me, Lord Beaumont.” I dismissed his words and turned toward the staircase.

  “Take my arm,” he ordered in a deep voice.

  “Why?” I shot a defying glance in his direction.