No one spoke. Miss Parrish’s factual narrative did much to clarify the situation. The last sentence, however, said it all.
Lady Doncaster was the first to break the silence. “Is this true, Joanna?”
“Yes, Mama,” said Lady Joanna, unusually subdued.
Lady Doncaster turned to Lord Charles. “What say you?”
“I love your daughter, My Lady, but I am well aware of my deficiencies,” answered Lord Charles respectfully.
“I love my daughter as well, Lord Charles. And I want what is best for her. Is that you, I wonder?” Lady Doncaster considered out loud. Lady Joanna understanding the situation, uncustomarily and wisely remained silent. Lady Doncaster turned to Isobel, a question in her eyes.
“I believe, Lady Doncaster, that Lord Charles and Lady Joanna are well suited and that they love each other. Charles will never be able to give Lady Joanna, everything that Pelton could, a title, great wealth, but I believe that those things matter little to Lady Joanna. I am not giving you advice, mind you, simply my opinion. I can, however, vouch for Lord Charles’ character. It is greatly improving.”
“Thank you, Miss Kennilworth; I am grateful for your contribution. I cannot promise anything, Joanna, but for reasons I do not understand myself, I am averse to Lord Pelton. He laughs too much. I am inclined to be more favorably disposed to Lord Charles.” At this Joanna let out a squeal of joy. “As I said, Joanna I make no promises. I have little power in the situation. But I will do what I can. Now, you and Mary go wait in the carriage for me.”
“Yes, Mama. But Mama, if we have the carriage and the coachman, by what means did you come to Woburn Street?”
“I came in a hackney,” said Lady Doncaster in disgust.
“Mama!” replied Lady Joanna, once more astonished.
“One does what one must for one’s children, Joanna,” her long-suffering mother declared.
Lady Joanna cast a longing glance at Lord Charles and walked to the front door with Miss Parrish in her wake.
Lady Doncaster turned once again to Charles. “Lord Doncaster has informed me that if no other suitor makes an offer soon, he will compel Joanna to marry Pelton. Were I you, lame or not, I would call upon Lord Doncaster as soon as possible with an offer.”
“But, My Lady, my suit is laughable, compared to Pelton’s.”
“Perhaps, but do you not think you should at least try. If you do not care enough to make the effort, you do not deserve my Joanna.”
Lord Charles was silent but a moment. “I will come tomorrow morning, My Lady. I shall send round a note to his Lordship straightaway.”
Lady Doncaster nodded her head in acknowledgment and sailed out of the room. Isobel and Lord Charles stood for a moment, each lost in wonder at what had just happened.
“That was quite magnificent. I have never seen Lady Doncaster so…so masterful,” said Lord Charles in awe. “It almost gives me hope.”
“That, Charles, was a mother tigress protecting her cub,” declared Isobel. Lord Charles shivered. “Charles, how are you to manage getting to Grosvenor Square tomorrow.”
“I am not sure, but I will go if Renfrew has to carry me. I would worry about my dignity suffering from it but since Lord Doncaster will most likely laugh me out of his house, it is much less of a concern.”
“You are the son of a duke, Charles,” Isobel pointed out.
“And Pelton is handsome and rich and a future Marquess. I hold out little hope,” refuted Lord Charles.
“Then you underestimate your Lady Joanna…and her mother.” And me, thought Isobel, as she devised another scheme.
*****
It was late to make a call, but Isobel, nonetheless, stood outside of Wren House, her former home and knocked on the door. She was readily admitted by Sloane and had to wait but a few seconds for Lady Warwick to join her.
“Miss Kennilworth.” Lady Warwick’s tone was pleasant as always, her musical accent appealing.
“I am sorry to call so late, Lady Warwick, but I have come on a matter of some importance.”
“Please sit down. Would you care for tea?” offered Lady Warwick, though it was long past tea time.
“No, thank you. Just a few moments of your time.” Isobel’s nerve began to fail her, but she mustered her courage and continued. “I have come about Lord Charles. I realize that it highly impertinent of me after what has occurred, to dare ask you for anything, especially on behalf of Charles.” Isobel paused. Lady Warwick said nothing, but no impatience or anger appeared on her lovely face. She looked politely interested. Isobel forged on. “Charles wishes to marry. These past weeks of forced inactivity and the love of Lady Joanna Doncaster have wrought a change in Charles. Oh, he was always a dear boy, just misguided. After all, both you and I know he shared the same devil of a father as Reginald.” She paused again.
“Please continue, Miss Kennilworth, I am interested,” encouraged Lady Warwick.
“Lady Joanna has encouraged him to turn Hidenwood into a dairy farm. They have researched and planned. I believe he has a good chance to make it work. But he needs capital and he needs to rid himself of debt. If he married Lady Joanna, her dowry would pay his debts and give him the capital that he needs, but he is loath to be thought a fortune hunter, for he truly cares for the girl. To further complicate matters, he is in competition with a much more eligible Lord Pelton for Lady Joanna’s hand, though Lady Joanna claims she will not have Pelton. Charles has had a difficult time of it and, though I do not condone his behavior toward you, I believe he has learned his lesson and is ready to be a responsible adult.”
Isobel hesitated yet again, steeling herself to reveal the true reason why she had come. Lady Warwick saw the hesitation and recognized what Miss Kennilworth wanted of her. Unfortunately, it was something she had promised Reginald she would not give. But, she would let Miss Kennilworth say her piece. “That is good news, indeed, Miss Kennilworth. I thank you for sharing this with me.”
“There, is more, Lady Warwick. I know of the promise you made to Reginald and I understand your obligation to keep that promise. But I truly believe that if Reginald were here and saw the change and sense of purpose in Charles, he himself would be moved by it. I have come to ask if you would reconsider and see your way to pay Charles’ debt. With his debts behind him, he could go to Lord Doncaster tomorrow with his head held high. I truly believe if Reginald were alive he would give him the money.” Isobel stopped. There was no more to say. It remained only to wait for Lady Warwick’s decision.
*****
Lord Saybrooke heaved a sigh of relief as he handed Miss Wimpole back to her dragon of a mother. The poor girl must have been so frightened living with such a Gorgon, that she was afraid to open her mouth to speak. Or perhaps it was just that she only knew a handful of words. Yes, My Lord. No, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord. He scanned the crowd at Lord Bingham’s ballroom hoping to find a partner with whom he could have some semblance of conversation. His eyes lit on Lady Joanna. She looked up at that very moment and using her ivory fan, beckoned Saybrooke to come. Saybrooke smiled. She definitely has conversation, he thought and he slowly made his way toward her through the crowd.
“Joanna, you are being too forward beckoning to Lord Saybrooke like that across the room. Do you have a tendrè for him after all?” asked her very confused mother.
“No, Mama, I am in love with Charles as you well know. And Lord Saybrooke is in love with Miss Kennilworth.”
“Is he truly? I had not heard that. And does she return his regard?”
“Yes, but both of them are two proud or guilt ridden or both, to do anything about it. That is why I beckoned to him. Someone must help them along.”
Lady Doncaster groaned inwardly. “Joanna, what scheme are you hatching now?”
“Do not fret, Mama. I know what I am doing.”
Along with her superior smile, Lady Joanna wore a pale green silk gown with roses embroidered on the hem. A halo of silk roses perched on her tumble of short red-gold curls t
hat framed her elfin face. To look at her just then, one would have thought her the perfect debutante, proud, yet demur. One would have been wrong.
Lord Saybrooke made his way across the ballroom and stood before Lady Joanna. “Lady Joanna, how delightful you look tonight. Would you do me the honor of standing up with me for the next dance.”
“Thank you Lord Saybrooke, but no.” Lady Joanna heard her mother’s intake of breath behind her. She went on. “However, I would greatly appreciate it if you would sit out the next dance with me. I would much rather converse.”
“I would be honored, Lady Joanna,” Saybrooke replied, wondering if the chit could read his mind.
“Truth be told,” Joanna confided in Saybrooke as he guided her to a set of chairs. “Mama forced me to buy these slippers because they match my dress so perfectly. But they pinch!” Saybrooke laughed obediently and Lady Joanna continued speaking. “I have not seen you lately, Lord Saybrooke. Where have you been hiding yourself? The debutantes have greatly missed you,” teased Lady Joanna.
“Not hiding, just busy. I have been involved in various charities and, of course, Parliament.”
“And what are you working on in Parliament at present, Lord Saybrooke. And do not think you will bore me. I am interested in many things,” Lady Joanna declared in a worldly tone.
“I am sure you are, My Lady,” said Saybrooke with an amused grin. “I am working with Wilberforce and his group to abolish slavery in the British Colonies.“
“I am glad to hear it, Lord Saybrooke. I, too, support the abolition of slavery, but I had thought slavery already abolished.” Lady Joanna looked thoroughly interested. Saybrooke had to admit he enjoyed this unusual creature. She reminded him of Isobel.
“In England itself, yes,” he answered her, “but it is still legal and rampant in most of our colonies.”
“I had not thought of that,” she replied thoughtfully and suddenly changed the course of the conversation. “And this has kept you from the festivities of the season?”
“I attend a few events to keep my mother happy, but I apply myself to causes to keep myself happy.”
“You do not care for Polite Society any more than I, I take it?” asked Lady Joanna with delight.
“I care for the members of Polite Society, but not for the institution itself,” judiciously replied Lord Saybrooke.
“I do not care much for many of the members of Polite Society either, I am sad to say. So many of them are so very arrogant and unpleasant.” Lady Joanna’s little bow of a mouth curved downward into a pleasing frown.
“Everyone is flawed, Lady Joanna. One must always look for the good in everyone,” said Saybrooke in his best vicar’s voice.
“Well, that is a perfectly stuffy and vicar-like thing to say.” Lady Joanna’s impish grin gave away that she was hoaxing him.
“Am I sounding pompous again? he replied with his own playful smile. “I beg your pardon.”
“Not at all, I was just teasing you.” The mercurial Lady Joanna once again jumped without warning to a new topic, one that Saybrooke found both fascinating and painful. “Oh, I completely have forgotten to thank you for giving me Miss Kennilworth’s address. I have spent many an afternoon at Woburn Place.”
He hesitated a moment, gathering his composure, determined not to reveal a hint of emotion. “Have you, indeed? And your Mama permits it?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” Lady Joanna warmed to her subject. “Woburn Place has become a very active location! Lord Charles Aiken is staying there. He had quite a nasty accident and Miss Kennilworth has been kind enough to let him convalesce in her home. While not technically her brother in law I believe they have that sort of relationship.”
Saybrooke stiffened at the news. He had last seen Lord Charles safely ensconced at Wren House. “Really? I had not thought them very brotherly or sisterly.” Saybrooke’s voice was icy cold.
“Well, they are.” Lady Joanna paused. “Can I tell you a great secret?” She did not wait for affirmation. “Lord Charles and I have formed an attachment. He goes to my father on the morrow!”
“You? And Lord Charles Aiken?”
“Oh, I know, I know. He has been quite a foolish boy in the past, but I am convinced that he has mended his ways. I am helping him start a dairy farm.”
“A dairy farm.” It was both a question and an incredulous statement.
“Yes, on his estate in Derbyshire. Making cheese is all the thing up there you know. It was my idea,” said the pert little miss proudly.
“How does Miss Kennilworth feel about your attachment?” Saybrooke did his best to sound detached, but much depended on her answer.
“She is quite thrilled about it. She has been our champion, you know.”
Saybrooke felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Once again he schooled his voice to sound nonchalant. “How is she? Miss Kennilworth? Is she well.”
Baited, hooked and caught! thought Lady Joanna. “She is indeed well, though very busy. She is turning Woburn Place into a home for widows in distress!”
“She what?”
“Well, not all of Woburn Place of course, just number sixty five. But, yes, she and Lady Tyndale…”
“Lady Tyndale?” Saybrooke voice rose to such a pitch that he garnered unwanted attention.
“Yes, they have made it up, you see, since Miss Kennilworth saved Lady Tyndale’s life after she almost died from the measles. And of course Lady Whitcomb is to be a part of this venture. Their first widow is young lady named Mrs. Endicott, who has a little daughter Charis. It is all quite noble and exciting.”
“Indeed,” said Saybrooke nonplussed. “Quite exciting.”
“Yes, Miss Kennilworth seems quite content now that she has a purpose. Though how they all will contrive to live on 800 pounds a year is a mystery.”
“That will be difficult,” replied Saybrooke, thinking of Isobel at Wren House with her dozens of servants, her expensive gowns and costly jewels. Very difficult, indeed, he thought.
“Now, before I forget, I have a theological question to pose to you.” Saybrooke inwardly objected. He wanted to continue talking about Isobel and this wild venture of hers. But Lady Joanna continued with barely a breath. “I was having a discussion with my sisters’ Governess the other day about the Bible. Why do you look so surprised, Lord Saybrooke, do you not recommend the Bible as reading material?”
Lord Saybrooke’s incredulous expression remained. “Oh, I do. I just never thought that you…”
“People are constantly underestimating me.” Lady Joanna shrugged. “Here is my question: it is from the gospel of St. Matthew, the 18th chapter. You know the bit where Peter asks Jesus if he should forgive someone who sinned against him seven times. And Jesus says, no, not seven, but seventy times seven. You know which bit I am speaking of?”
“Quite well, yes. Your question?”
“Well, it is simply this. Is it a literal seventy times seven? My governess believes that if a person sins against one 490 times one must forgive them, but on the 491st time, one need not forgive. I argued that it would be unlikely that someone would sin that many times against one and even more unlikely that one could keep an accounting of that many sins. I know I should lose count after fifteen or so. I feel it is much more the spirit of the thing. To always be forgiving, you know. What is your thinking on the matter?” Lady Joanna cocked her head to look at Lord Saybrooke, her green eyes full of mischief.
“I would agree with your understanding, Lady Joanna, and commend you for your perspicacity.” Lord Saybrooke could not help admire this saucy little baggage.
“Miss Kennilworth said that I would enjoy discussing philosophy and religion with you and she was quite right. She usually is you know.” Lady Joanna bestowed a beguiling smile on Lord Saybrooke. The dance ended and the orchestra began the strains of a cotillion. “Oh, my, time for the next dance already? I have promised Mr. Smythe-Bennington that I would stand up with him for this dance and here he comes now. Thank you so much for conve
rsing with me Lord Saybrooke. I like it so much better than dancing.” Lady Joanna was swept away by her gangly partner leaving Lord Saybrooke mystified.
“A conversation usually involves two people Lady Joanna,” he muttered to himself. “You just gave me a sermon!”
He walked outside to get some air. Isobel. No matter what he did, no matter what she did, he could not forget her. Despite their fits and starts, he loved her and wanted her by his side. Lord Saybrooke did not need Lady Joanna’s less than subtle hints to know that he should forgive Isobel. What the young lady did not know was that he had already forgiven her. He was working on forgiving himself for his own shortcomings.
Chapter 18
Lord Charles Aiken stood outside the Doncaster’s Grosvenor Square Mansion with the assistance of Renfrew, Griffin and two wooden crutches that Renfrew managed to obtain. Though he was dressed in a flawless navy frock coat of Weston’s design, a subtle patterned waistcoat in two shades of gray and a faultlessly tied neck cloth, the effect of the crutches on the ensemble was regrettable.
“Alright, just help me up the stairs and make yourselves scarce. I can only hope that Lord Doncaster’s study is on the ground floor.” Charles grimaced as a jolt of pain ran through his injured leg.
“Perhaps I should accompany you, My Lord,” Griffin offered, sincerely.
“Don’t be daft, Mr. Griffin,” answered Renfrew for Lord Charles. “He’s going to pop the question. He don’t need his valet mincing around while he’s doing it!”
Griffin sniffed in disapproval. Lord Charles, amused, attempted to unruffled the valet’s feathers. “Good of you to offer, Griffin, but this is something I must do on my own. I will manage.”
Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) Page 22
