Regency Romance: Fallen Duchess (A Historical Victorian Murder Mystery Love Regency Romance)

by Tracey D Morgan

  Father Donovan had been a family friend for ages. He and Frederick’s father had been school friends, and as such, Father Donovan had always been a welcome guest in the Fitzgerald household.

  “I see that your home isn’t in too great a need of a woman’s touch,” he started, but then regretted his comment, knowing that talking about possible marriage prospects so early might still be too inappropriate for Frederick.

  “We get by.” Frederick smiled without taking any offense. He knew what Father Donovan meant. “Mrs. Smith takes good care of us, especially of the children, and asking for anything more of her would be asking too much. The good woman has little ones of her own, so it’s only natural that we have to let her go to her own family every once in a while,” Frederick said.

  “And what about your own family, Frederick?” Father Donovan inquired, without any hidden agenda or desire to meddle into affairs that weren’t his business. However, as a spiritual leader of his flock, helping his parishioners in dire times was his business. Not only that, it was his pleasure, his life calling.

  “I have thought of that, Father Donovan. And I believe I might have found a solution to what ails us,” Frederick added confidently.

  “Have you, my son?” He smiled in anticipation.

  “I have been corresponding with a woman. A very fine woman who might be what we need.”

  “And have you conversed with this woman face to face, or have you only exchanged correspondences so far?”

  “We have only written to each other, and I have a feeling, deep within my soul, that she is a good woman, exactly the kind of woman who would be a suitable mother figure for my little ones. They have been so lonely these past few months, with me busy supervising the reconstructions, the business. It’s all too much, Father, and they do need a loving mother figure.”

  “I fully agree, Frederick. But what made you look so far away when there are plenty of fine women in our parochial gatherings right here? Miss Emily Townsend is a marvelous young lady, for instance. Or even Miss Eudora Williamson. All fine women, worthy of bearing your name,” Father Donovan preached.

  “I am fully aware of their existence, Father. But something urged me to look far and wide, out of Texas, for someone new, someone fresh, who would not try to make me forget about Elizabeth and who would not try to replace her, or worse yet, be afraid of perpetually living in her shadow. I need—we need—someone different, someone who would bring sunlight back into our lives. She needs her own gleam, her own light, that resembles no other,” Frederick spoke pensively.

  Father Donovan nodded. He realized there was no point in convincing Frederick of anything. Frederick knew exactly what he wanted, and this priest was good at what he did exactly because he supported his parishioners in everything they wanted to do.

  “Mistakes are there to teach us,” he would say during his Sunday sermons. “And even though I am a man of God, I cannot tell you if what you are doing is a mistake or not. This feeling should come from within you, from where God’s own light shines bright only for you. But what I can offer is my unconditional support in both good times and bad. We are here for one another, and this is what makes us a good community. So leave the house of Lord with these words in mind, and remember to notice even the smallest miracles he sends us. He loves us, and he makes sure we know it every single minute of our lives.”

  It was one of Frederick’s favorite sermons, and many times, in his direst hours, he would remember that no matter what there were still people he could rely on, people he could trust and count on.

  “And besides, the children said a humorous thing the other day,” Frederick added.

  “Oh, those little rascals. What was it this time?” Father Donovan loved children, despite the fact that he had none of his own. In reality, he considered his entire flock his children and treated them as a loving father should.

  “Upon being asked what presents they would like for Christmas this year, their reply was a mother.” Frederick was partly amused and partly saddened by their reply.

  “Well, it is only natural, Frederick. You know that children find it easier to express what we adults keep so well hidden. Perhaps,” he leaned toward him as he spoke, “you should pay heed to what they are saying.”

  After one more hour of pleasantries, Father Donovan left Frederick’s house, leaving him to what he was interested in doing since the moment he saw the postman: read Christina’s response.

  Sir,

  I hereby acknowledge the receipt of your last letter, to which I am replying. It is not with reluctance that I take up my pen but rather with a gentle effort to reveal to you my hopes. I do hope that I have not offended you in intruding myself upon you with my first reply. A young lady of my circumstances can never be too careful, as she might be deemed devoid of proper pride when she shows such fierce determination in making a man’s acquaintance. Your reply took me by surprise, as I bore no hopes of hearing from you. But then you have decided to take me into your confidence and intimations, and ever since, I have felt the holiest feeling of the human heart.

  Until the receipt of your last letter, which I still have before me, all my hopes were abandoned, and the sweet, almost foolish confidence I had in life and in myself had been dashed. However, witnessing your candor and kind confidence, I feel allowed the privilege to intrude myself even more in your interests. Again, I do hope I may not offend you in so doing.

  I have scarcely the courage to express my desires in words, and if I did so, I should be overcome with embarrassment. But let us not speak of my desires for closer ties—at least not for the time being.

  Until I hear from you again, I remain

  Yours as may be,

  Christina Rose Hubbard

  He liked her. That much he could tell just by reading her words and imagining them being pronounced in a sweet, melodic voice that might one day be ringing throughout this house. He set out to reply to her immediately. Knowing her current situation, he wanted to find out as much as he could about her as quickly as propriety allowed so that he could ask her the question that was on his mind.

  But he could not have done so after only several letters. What would Father Donovan say? No. He needed to get to know Christina more, to hear more information about who she was, what she desired in life, what her aspirations were and, most importantly, if she could love his children as if they were her own.

  Chapter Four

  A few months had passed, and both Christina and Frederick enjoyed receiving letters from each other. Their letters grew more affectionate, more intimate and personal, all the while keeping to the side of what society dictated to be appropriate male-female correspondence.

  Through his letters, Christina got to know the depth of Frederick’s love not only for his children and their well-being but also for the profound devotion he felt for his late wife. Somehow she did not feel that pang of jealousy that accompanied many women when they heard of the existence of another woman in their prospective future-husband’s life. Quite the contrary, she could completely understand him. Although it was true that, apart from her father, she had never loved anyone so deeply, she knew what it felt like to lose someone who brightened up your world, who, in other words, was your entire world, the person who never left your side. As long as we remembered them, they were alive and in our memory and love. They continued to exist.

  This was exactly why she had no desire to compete with Frederick’s late wife, Elizabeth. Why would she? It would be ludicrous, competing with someone who was dead, someone whose life would be glorified to what might be an unfair advantage over the life of any living mortal. She saw no need in that. What she wanted of Frederick was love, security, and safety. In return, she was willing to offer the same.

  Frederick, on the other hand, got to know what a loving daughter Christina was. Through reading about her recent hardships, he found out what it was like for a woman without any means to get along in this world. This softened his heart toward her even more, and he knew
that God had sent her to him for a reason: not only for him to save her but also for her to save him from the loneliness and misery he was surrounded by in the past few months.

  Finally he realized that the time had come for him to send the letter and in it a question that could change their lives forever. That morning, when Christina was sipping warm coffee, she almost dropped the mug in her lap upon reading Frederick’s latest letter.

  My dearest Christina,

  Please excuse the familiarity with which I shall address you in this letter, and if you find it odious or if it in any way ventures to throw me out of your confidence or your esteem, I shall banish myself from your presence altogether. But it is a question that must, nonetheless, be asked, and as you yourself may have concluded, whatever your heart desires, I shall obey.

  I am no artist, nor I am better at words than any other man, but if I should draw you a simple picture that contains the margins of my heart, my hope would be that you would still find it pleasing, though the picture would reveal nothing that you already do not possess the knowledge of. From the first instance of hearing from you, you have occupied every single possible space in it, simultaneously obtaining an absolute power over it, to which I fully adhere.

  So far, my feelings needed only crumbs of your attention. In this respect, I am like a poor man, who needs but mere crumbs from a rich man’s table to satiate his hunger for another day. It is with these crumbs, which meant so much to me, that you have touched me more profoundly than I ever thought I could be touched again.

  Yes, letters speak. They reveal our innermost desires. They possess all the force of the heart that transports love from one soul to another. And now, I finish my letter by asking for your hand in marriage. If you find my proposal a perjury or an insult, then it is by your will and desire that I shall impose upon you an eternal silence and leave you forever. This you can ask of me, for I shall do whatever you instruct. Anything, but forget you because that alone is impossible.

  Every minute of wait drives me to despair, and I welcome your letter and your reply eagerly, whatever you choose it to be.

  Until then, I remain,

  Eternally yours,

  Frederick Howard Fitzpatrick

  Christina read the letter again, immediately. And then once more. Could it be? Was Frederick really offering to have her as a wife? She felt like it was all a beautiful dream and any minute, someone would come and shake her rudely out of it.

  Instead of writing a lengthy reply that would take longer to reach him, Christina opted for a telegram. Although she thought it less romantic and appealing, she felt in a rush to let Frederick know that his intentions were more than welcome and that she would be glad to join him at his estate, whenever he deemed appropriate.

  His reply, also by telegram, arrived shortly afterward and instructed her to pack everything that she thought was necessary for her indefinite stay at his mansion, at her new house. But she would also be provided with whatever it was that she would need. A carriage would be sent for her as soon as she could arrange her affairs.

  Short and succinct, his telegram provided her with all the necessary instructions she needed. Excitedly, she managed to organize her affairs sooner than she thought she would, and finally, upon locking the doors to her family home for the last time, she found herself standing on the porch with a small suitcase in her right hand, the key in her left and numerous memories flooding her soul.

  She was closing one chapter of her life and opening another. With a bitter sweet pain, she took one last look at her house, took a deep breath, said goodbye to them all—the house, her father, the porch—but not the memories, and turned toward the waiting carriage that would take her away to her new life with a sweet man named Frederick Howard Fitzpatrick.

  The journey took longer than she expected, but she didn’t mind. It gave her enough time to gather her thoughts, calm down and prepare for the biggest rendezvous of her life.

  Upon her arrival, she saw a man with two children waiting in front of a massive mansion with a beautifully decorated garden to the side. All three were immaculately dressed, and before she even exited the carriage, she felt a little embarrassed about her slightly shabby dress that seemed to be at odds with their impeccable clothes.

  She put on her hat—the nicest one she had—with a small, delicate flower on the right side, adorned by a small white ribbon that kept it firmly attached to her head. She felt the need to smile, but she wasn’t sure if that was the appropriate demeanor for this occasion.

  When she finally gathered the courage to exit the carriage, Frederick was right there to offer his hand.

  “My dear Christina,” his voice was deep, reassuring. “We, my children and I, are so happy and grateful that you have finally arrived.” He smiled earnestly, and she returned the gesture. She gazed into his eyes, and they reminded her of her father’s: deep and trustworthy. That was how one knew if someone was a good person or not. Frederick was. She was certain of it.

  She turned to his children, who were dutifully standing there like little soldiers waiting for further instructions.

  “Angelina, William, say hello to Miss Christina Rose Hubbard.”

  “Hello!” Both children greeted her in unison, sharing their father’s enthusiasm regarding her arrival. She wanted to give them a hug but again wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate at this moment. Fortunately, William seemed to have read her mind and jumped into her arms, without thinking. This caught Frederick off guard.

  “William!” He scolded him, gently. The boy looked at his father and then at Christina, who had already wrapped her arms around him.

  “I beg your forgiveness for this boldness, Miss Christina,” William said.

  Christina couldn’t help but smile as she released him from her grasp.

  “It’s perfectly all right, William.”

  All the while, Angelina was standing to the side, unwilling to take part but at the same time intrigued by what was happening around her. She also seemed eager to address Christina and ask a few questions of her own but opted against it after seeing her father’s reaction to William’s outburst of emotion.

  “All right now, let us go back to the house. I’m certain that Christina is very tired, for she has taken a long journey to come and be here with us, so we mustn’t disturb her until she is well rested again.”

  Taking her suitcase gallantly with one hand and offering his other hand to Christina, the four went back to the house in contented silence.

  Shortly afterwards dinner was served, and Christina enjoyed herself immensely. The children were extremely talkative, unabashed at sharing personal stories, and Frederick even allowed William to give Christina another quick hug upon seeing her descend the stairs for dinner.

  The atmosphere that reined in the Fitzpatrick household was one that hadn’t been felt for a long time. It was as if the entire family was reunited again, and everyone finally felt complete, safe and home.

  After dinner, Christina was asked to play the piano, and she did so wonderfully, enticing her newfound audience to applaud her impressively upon finishing. Finally, they gathered around the fire and read stories until both children were soundly asleep and Frederick had to take them to their beds.

  Once he put the two of them to sleep, he escorted Christina to her room and remained respectfully outside the door as he bid her good night.

  “Frederick, I don’t know what to say.” Lit by the gentle flicker of the candle he was carrying, Christina smiled at him. “You have been so kind to me, kinder than I ever thought anyone could be to me.” A note of sadness pervaded her voice, and she felt she was on the verge of tears.

  “There, there, sweet one.” Frederick caressed her cheek, softly. “You have brought back the sunshine to our lives, and it is us who shall be eternally grateful to you for abandoning everything you knew, your entire life, to come to us here to a new place with people you know little about.”

  They smiled at each other in the dark. Her hear
t raced as she gazed into his eyes, and she knew right then and there, if she hadn’t loved him before, she loved him now. All would be well again. She would be happy and content in this house, taking care of this sweet family that had opened their doors to her.

  “It’s getting late. I had better go to bed,” she whispered.

  Frederick nodded. Bidding her goodnight, he turned toward the other side of the long corridor and disappeared into the darkness. Christina entered her room, quickly changed into her nightgown and cuddled up in bed. She thought she would find it strange to sleep in an unfamiliar bed for the first time, but everything was perfect. There was not one thing that did not strike her as pleasant or satisfactory, and she found herself thanking God Almighty for giving her such a blessing as this one.

  As she was lying in bed, just before she fell asleep, a horrible thought came to her. What if somehow, someday, Frederick found out about what she had done to try and save her father’s life? Would he hate her? Would he understand? Or would he banish her from his house and from his heart?

  She dared not think about this—not now that she was finally happy, that her life finally had meaning again. It wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. Not now. Not now. Not now.

  And with these thoughts, she fell asleep dreaming of her wedding day with Frederick and how happy all four of them would be as a family.

  Chapter Five

  As days passed by, Christina proved to be an invaluable part of the Fitzgerald household. She helped with the housework as well as the cooking, though Frederick kept telling her there was no need for that, and she was actually taking Mrs. Smith’s work from her. But even Mrs. Smith welcomed the help because that meant she could finish work somewhat earlier and join her family for dinner more frequently, which made her very happy and grateful to Christina.

  The gardener felt the same way about her. Christina seemed to have a green thumb and enjoyed working in the garden immensely, whether it was tending to the roses or simply clearing out the weeds. Whatever she took upon herself was a success, and it was soon that the entire household found her a precious addition they simply couldn’t do without anymore.