“Yes, Father. It was a small matter, and I have taken care of it.”
“Excellent.” George remained looking at him, and his father asked, “Was there something else you wanted?”
“Yes, I want to go up to London and stay with Aunt Hester for a spell.”
“And why would you do that?” Father asked. He looked unsettled by the request.
“The gallery that wishes to show my paintings wants to see what I have been working on recently, and I thought to go up and take my latest offerings.”
Matthew stood up from his desk. He was clearly not pleased. “They have been in communication with you?”
“They have. I received a letter only yesterday with the request.”
“George, this is not a good time for you to be going to London. Summer is our most active time on the estate. I need you here.”
“I will only be gone a few days—a week at the most.”
“And if I forbid you leaving?” he asked coming around the side of the desk and confronting George directly.
“Then I should remind you that I am twenty—almost one and twenty and answer only to myself.”
“You think that, do you?”
“I do. And I have my inheritance from Grandmother to draw upon if I must.”
“That is not available to you until you are five and twenty. And might I remind you that you still live under my roof, and as long as that is the case, you will obey my wishes.”
George did not respond but smiled briefly. “And I am to be the Duke when you are gone. So, you might wish to remember that, as well—unless you want me to bolt and find my own way in London with no care for the estate and the succession.
“And what would you live on?”
“My painting,” George trumpeted proudly.
That elicited a guffaw from his father. “You really think so, lad?”
“And why not? I have a gallery interested in my work.”
Matthew sighed and went back to his desk, pulled a hunting knife out of a desk drawer and threw it down on the desktop.
“There, you might be able to make a hard living in the wilderness with that, but do you really think you can make a living in London with those ridiculous paint brushes of yours?”
“Father, please. Let us take a step back. I am only going to stay with Aunt Hester for a week. I know I am not able to make my living by painting—just yet. But I want to start. I have an opportunity, and you should welcome that. The gallery sees promise in my work and who knows where that might lead. I have already given you my promise that I will work with you on the estate and learn how to manage it. Now, please, honor my wishes as well.”
Matthew picked up the knife and tossed it back into the drawer and then closed the ledger and looked up at George.
“Very well. One week. But when you return, I want you to start learning about the accounting process we use here.” He tapped the ledger with his forefinger.”
George felt some relief at the approval and felt emboldened to push on. “I want you to know I intend to take Lucy with me. She has never been to London, and she pleaded with me to take her.”
His father scowled and shook his head. “Son… I do not think that would be proper. A young woman…”
“Father, she is like my sister. What could possibly be improper?” And even as he said that he knew he was lying, for he had feelings for her that were more than brother and sisterly. After all, he had been painting her on and off since he started doing portraiture. He had watched her beauty, grace, and gentility grow and mature. Any other women he met, he compared to her, and they always fell short. It was true they grew up together like a brother and sister, but time had changed them, and he was beginning to explore the deeper feelings he had for her. But this was not the time to tell his father that or to tell Lucy.
“Have you spoken to your mother about taking her? I know she depends a great deal on Lucy’s help. I am not certain she would be willing to let Lucy go from here, even for a week.”
“I will speak to her. And if she agrees to let Lucy go with me, will you agree, as well?”
“Perhaps. Let me know what your mother says, and then I shall decide.”
“Very good, Father.”
As George left his father’s study, he saw Lucy coming down the hall carrying a load of washed and folded laundry.
“Did you speak to him,” she asked, pausing in front of him.
George placed his hand on Lucy’s upper arm. “I did, and all he will give me right now is a maybe.”
“That does not sound very promising.”
“He wants me to speak to Mother and get her permission first. You are so close to her these days. How do you think I should handle her?”
Lucy grimaced. “Oh… Not certain about that at all. She is so dependent on me. I am doubtful she will agree to let me go.”
“What if we went to her together—you and I—when we can find her alone with no distractions,” George suggested.
Lucy wagged her head. “Perhaps. But she can be very moody and is usually not in a very good mood unless she has just had her drops.”
“Let us time our meeting then to after she has taken them.”
Lucy seemed conflicted. “Is that proper? It seems as though we are taking advantage of her weakness.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” George said feeling deflated and a little hopeless. “Then what might you suggest?”
“She usually perks up after breakfast. She is rested from sleep, feels satisfied from eating, and has not felt the stress of the day just yet.”
“Then join me for breakfast tomorrow morning. I will time my attendance at breakfast to coincide with her arrival.”
“I am usually engaged helping Cook at that time.”
“Then bring in a tray or something. Freshen up her tea… anything.”
Lucy smiled. “I will give it a try.”
George kept a lookout from his room to see when his mother might be passing by on her way to breakfast, and when he saw her, joined her and let her take his arm to navigate the staircase.
“Good morning, Mother dearest,” George said with some exaggeration.
Judith looked up at him. “You seem very chipper this morning, George,” she said as they entered the dining room.
“It is such a beautiful day. I was thinking to help Father with the shearing and then perhaps ride over to visit with Stephen Rutley this evening.”
“Hmm,” was all Judith could muster in response as she settled into her chair and was looking for her tea.
Lucy’s cue to enter was the mention of Stephen Rutley, and Lucy came in with a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of the season’s first strawberries.
“Your Grace, I have a special treat for you this morning,” she said placing the bowl of strawberries and fresh cream before her. She then nonchalantly poured the tea, giving George the opening to bring up the intended subject.
“Have you heard from Aunt Hester recently?” he asked.
Judith looked up at him with a mouthful of strawberries and with some surprise. “My sister and I do not regularly correspond,” she said trying to shut down the inquiry.
But George, not to be deterred, pushed ahead. “I was thinking to pop up to London for a few days and thought I might stay with her.”
Now Judith was becoming suspicious. “Why would you want to go to London right when the sheep are being sheared?”
“After the shearing.”
“Hmm.”
“I have a little business in town and, as Lucy has never been to London, I thought it would be nice to take her along for a little sight-seeing.”
Judith sharply turned her head to look up at Lucy, who had just finished pouring her tea.
“And you wish to do this?” she asked.
Lucy hesitated, but answered, “Yes, your Grace. I have never been to London and should very much like to see our capital with all its fine buildings and institutions of government.”
“Hmm. But…�
�� Judith seemed to be greatly conflicted. “How long are you talking about and where would you stay?”
George spoke up. “We would stay with Aunt Hester for a few days, but not longer than a week.”
Judith turned her attention back to George. “And why do you want to go to London?”
“My gallery wants to see my latest paintings.”
“And you would take the carriage?”
“Of course. I have a number of works to show the gallery and would need the carriage to carry them with me.”
“What does your father say about this?”
“He will agree if you do.”
The Duchess seemed to relish the power she had for the moment. It was rare when she had a say in anything, and now she would have the deciding vote.
“Let me think about it for a few days,” she said, as she finished off the delicious strawberries, scraping the bowl for the last drop of cream.
George was exasperated. “Mother, please… I need to go right after the shearing. There is a lot of work coming up on the estate, and the sooner I go, the sooner I can return.”
That appeared to sway her, but she turned to Lucy and said, “But Lucy, I cannot do without you. Flossy is practically useless at times, and it is only you I can depend upon with any consistency.”
“Mother, Lucy has been your companion for years without any breaks. Might she not be allowed one week?”
Judith pinched her mouth, indicated she was thinking. “It does not seem prudent that you should go, Lucy. I do not think I can do without you.”
George stood. He was angry. “Mother, might I remind you that Lucy works for this household constantly. She is on call to you day or night, seven days a week and yet she receives not a single penny in remuneration. How is that fair? She should, by all right, leave this house immediately and seek employment where she would be appreciated—and paid.”
Judith was shocked and looked up at Lucy. “You would do that to us after we took you in and cared for you all these years at our own expense?”
“She has more than earned her keep. If you were to calculate what she has done for this family versus what she has actually cost, the debt would be greatly in her favor.” He turned to Lucy and winked. “I feel certain I could find you an excellent position with a good family that would pay very well and offers you a great deal more freedom. Is that something you would like me to do for you?”
Lucy played along. “That sounds like a very attractive proposition. How soon might you be able to arrange such a placement?”
“Certainly within a few days, but no more than a week.” He stopped and let the statement hang in the air.
“Very well,” Mother said, “you both may go. But no more than a week.” Then she fidgeted. “I do not know what is to be done with Flossy. How can I ever manage?” she asked plaintively.
Lucy offered. “I will work with her before I leave, if you like. Or I can suggest one of the housemaids who I have found to be very able.”
“I do not think Flossy would take well to being instructed by you. Perhaps the housemaid would be a better choice.”
George looked at Lucy and smiled. They would be going to London.
Chapter 8
George was overseeing one of the footmen loading and securing his paintings in the cargo section and inside the carriage. He made sure each painting was well wrapped and safe from possible damage.
Lucy came to the carriage with her valise, accompanied by Betsy. She would travel light because she did not have a great deal to take with her. She had thought she might want to shop for some new clothes, but she was reluctant to ask her Grace for any spending money, as she felt lucky just to be allowed to go to London. She would have to make do for the foreseeable future with what she already had. Up until now all of her clothes came as hand-me-downs from the sisters, and she had not complained.
Lucy laughed as she asked, “Is there going to be room in the carriage for us? You do have a lot of paintings.”
“Brother, why do you never let us see your work?” Betsy asked George.
“I did not think any of you were interested. Not a single one of the family, other than Father and Mother, has ever come to visit the studio. And they only came to scold me for what they considered to be me wasting my time.”
Betsy led Lucy aside and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out several pound notes and a list. “Lucy, when you are in London would you please go to a nice bookshop and buy me some of these books, please? Mother is very stingy and rather strict when it comes to what she will allow me to read.”
“Of course, if I am able. I have no knowledge of London or where any of the shops are.”
“Aunt Hester will be able to direct you.”
“Then, certainly I shall.”
Betsy then reached into her pocket and pulled out another pound note and handing it to Lucy whispered, “And this is for you. Please buy something nice for yourself.”
Lucy teared up at the kind gesture. “Oh, Betsy, that is so very sweet of you. Thank you.”
“Very good, my man,” George said to the footman as he slipped him a tip for his help. He turned to Lucy and Betsy. “Are you ready to leave?”
“I am,” Lucy said as George took her hand and helped her into the carriage.
Lucy waved to Betsy as the driver called to the horses to start up, and they began moving down the driveway.
It would take them several days to make the trip to London. For Lucy, one of the surprising pleasures was to be able to have a room of her own. For all the years she had been at Grayson Manor she had always shared a room with one of the kitchen maids. And certainly, as a child, with brothers and sisters in a two-room house, she had never been alone. Now, at the first hotel they stayed in on their trip, Lucy had her own room. It was a luxury that George could not imagine because he had at Grayson Manor, not only his own room but his own suite of rooms. He was tickled that Lucy took so much pleasure in, what for him, was an ordinary fact of his everyday existence.
Lucy and George had chatted endlessly the first day of the journey—she asking endless questions about London—and he excitedly talking about his hope for a positive reception from the gallery owner.
But on the second day, both were more subdued. Riding in a carriage all day was exhausting, even with occasional stops to water the horses and to get out of the carriage and stretch their legs.
Lucy had tried reading, but the motion of the carriage was jarring, and she found it difficult to concentrate—or, for that matter, to even focus steadily on a page. She put her book away, rested her head back against the seat, and occasionally drifted off to sleep.
When they were on the outskirts of London, Lucy perked up and became fascinated with the sights of the city passing by outside the carriage. Never before had she seen so much humanity in one place, not to mention the squalor. Certainly, all of London could not be like this?
“You look troubled, Lucy,” George spoke up.
“I do not like London, at all. Look at all the filth, poverty, and unhappy faces.”
George chuckled. “Not all of London is like this. You are only seeing the outskirts where the workers live. Once we get into the heart of the city, you shall see its many splendors.”
This troubled Lucy even more. The thought that there was one kind of life for the very wealthy and another for the working poor disturbed her. But then she remembered her own family and how they had lived compared to the way the Graysons lived. It was much the same as in London only on a much smaller scale. At least, in the country, the tenant farmers could grow their own food, glean the harvested fields, and forage for wild edible plants.
Soon, however, the tenements were left behind, and the busy and attractive heart of London came into view. That dazzled Lucy as she ogled the many fine houses, shops, government buildings, and monuments.
Finally, the carriage pulled up in front of a fine Georgian house on a quiet side street in Mayfair. Aunt Hester’s butler appeared at the car
riage door and assisted Lucy and George from the carriage.
George gave instruction about managing the unloading of the paintings, and they went inside.
Aunt Hester was seated in her sitting room with tea prepared on a sideboard nearby. She gave a large broad grin as George came over and took her hand and kissed it.
“Aunt Hester, it has been far too long since we have seen each other.”
“It has. It has,” she responded. “And who is this charming young lady with you? She is not your wife, is she?”
The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess_A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 6
