Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place)

by Claudia Harbaugh

  The two servants assisted Lord Charles up the grand stone stairs that led to the imposing home. With a nod of his head he dismissed them and lifted the knocker, his stomach in a knot. A very proper, very tall butler answered the door and looked askance at the temporarily crippled Lord in front of him.

  Lord Charles, nevertheless, was admitted readily and the butler confessed, though grudgingly, that Lord Doncaster awaited him in the library. Lord Charles was relieved to find the room was indeed on the ground floor. He hobbled behind the butler and into Lord Doncaster’s inner sanctum.

  “Lord Doncaster, thank you for seeing me.” Lord Charles made a valiant attempt at a respectful hauteur, though his insides felt like blancmange. His leg hurt, his ribs throbbed, he was lightheaded and he felt himself begin to sway. Lord Doncaster’s abrupt manner did nothing to calm him.

  “Sit down, Lord Charles. You make me nervous wobbling to and fro like that.” He impatiently gestured to a chair. With a good deal of difficulty and no help from Doncaster, Charles sat. Doncaster offered no refreshment and very little good humor. He sat at his desk and faced the hapless suitor. “We both know why you are here. You need not go on and on about how much you love Joanna and how honored you would be to make her your wife. All that is fustian. The essentials are this. You are below the hatches to the tune of almost ten thousand pounds. You own an insignificant estate in Derbyshire that at present only produces a thousand pounds per annum. You have been a rakehell and gambler and your behavior is reckless, as witness your injury. How in Hades did you end up in the Rookery in the first place?” He paused only to draw breath and continued. “Never mind. I do not care to know. The point is that Pelton is in every way superior to you and yet my wife and daughter think I should entertain your suit. Joanna is a sore trial, but the fact is I dote on her and want her to be happy. So, I will allow you to make your case.”

  Charles felt his hopes slip away. Heard it put like that, he did sound like a wastrel. But he would not give up quite yet. He had a few surprises up his sleeve.

  “First of all, Lord Doncaster, I thank you for you indulgence in allowing me to come. I know that you have said that I should not rhapsodize about my love for Lady Joanna. And I will not do so, but forgive me, I must affirm that I do indeed love and respect her. As to my past, I cannot dispute you, but it is my past. I am determined my future will not bear any resemblance to it. And while it is true that I own an insignificant estate called Hidenwood, I have great plans for this estate that Lady Joanna helped me to conceive. I must correct you on one point. As of this morning, I am no longer in debt. My family in the person of the Duchess of Warwick has seen fit to believe in me and give me a fresh start by paying my debts. It is true that I come with no balance on the positive side of the ledger, but I also have none on the negative side either. As to Lady Joanna being a trial, I must concur with you on that as well. She is willful and oppositional, forward and flighty and I find that the prospect of life without her at my side bleak and insupportable.” Lord Charles was drained. His leg hurt like the devil and his ribs ached like a rotten tooth. He had no more to say and so he waited.

  Lord Doncaster picked up a pen and began to scribble on a piece of paper in front of him. He dipped his pen in the ink from time to time and continued to write, his face a study in concentration. After what seemed like hours, but was closer to ten minutes, Lord Doncaster finally spoke.

  “As I indicated to you earlier, I feel Lord Pelton’s suit is much stronger.” Charles cringed at Doncaster’s words, but the Earl continued. “However, I cannot like the man. He smiles too much. Not to mention, and do not mention this to Lady Joanna or her mother, I find myself swayed by their faith in you. My wife is an excellent judge of character.” Charles held his breath; there truly was hope!

  “And so, this is what I propose.” He looked up to see a much transformed young man before him. Lord Charles was grinning from ear to ear. “Do not be too optimistic, Lord Charles, you may not like the terms. But here they are: As of the day we sign the betrothal agreement you will be given half of Joanna’s dowry of twenty thousand pounds, which is ten thousand pounds in case your arithmetic is inferior. You will take that money and invest it in Hidenwood, be it a dairy farm or whatever else you might put your hand to. You will be given one year from the date of the signing to make a success of the property. Our lawyers can draw up the specifics, but I suggest that you double the current income, at least. If you can do this and if at the end of one year Joanna still wishes to marry you, I will bless the nuptials and release the second half of her dowry. If you fail in your endeavor, you will then owe me ten thousand pounds with interest. Such will also be the case if Joanna chooses not to marry you at the end of that year. Oh, and the engagement must remain a secret. I will give you some time to think about it and…”

  “I do not need time. I accept,” agreed Lord Charles hastily.

  “Young man, these are not easy terms.” Doncaster gave Lord Charles a hard look.

  “I understand, Lord Doncaster, but I have had weeks of inactivity to research and write to friends who know the dairy business. I have found a good steward, who is experienced in dairy farming and cheese making. If I cannot make this work, I do not deserve Joanna.”

  For the first time during this difficult interview, Lord Doncaster thawed. He stood and walked around his desk and extended his hand to his future son in law. They shook hands vigorously and Lord Charles felt every movement in his aching ribs.

  “Normally, I would have you talk to Joanna in the drawing room, but I am averse to asking you to move any more than necessary. I will send her down to you here.” A faint smile brushed his lips and he exited the room.

  Lord Charles did not have long to wait. A fretful Joanna ran into the room, her face full of concern. Charles struggled to stand, but found it tough going. “Oh, Charles never mind trying to stand, just tell me!”

  He obeyed and sat back in the chair. “Tell you what, my betrothed?” Joanna’s countenance transformed into a full faced grin and she let out an ear splitting squeal. She ran to Lord Charles, threw both of her arms around his neck and squeezed. He let out a squeal as well, though much lower in pitch. “I am as happy as you, my love, but my ribs cannot bear your weight.” Lady Joanna released him, apologizing profusely. “How about a kiss instead?” he suggested. “My lips are fully healed.”

  The kiss was an awkward one, with Lady Joanna bending at the waist and leaning in, her arms encircling his neck. Charles was correct, his lips were fully healed, but his nose was not and the kiss could not be accomplished without discommoding that appendage somewhat. But the couple did not seem to mind the discomfort for they continued kissing for quite some time.

  After they had pulled apart, Charles explained Lord Doncaster’s terms to his intended.

  “A year! A whole year? No!” Lady Joanna protested.

  “But, love, it is completely understandable. We can make this work, I know we can,” assured Lord Charles gently.

  “But I want to be there! To help! I want to pick out the cows and help you make plans,” pouted Lady Joanna.

  “There will be plenty of time for all that. Meanwhile you can get your trousseau ready and since we are engaged, though it will be a secret, we can write. You can read enormous manuals on cows and cheese and write me all about it.”

  He pulled her into another long kiss. When she finally had breath again, a little smile began to steal over her face. “My papa thinks that I will forget all about you. He thinks I am but a silly flibbertigibbet. But I will show him! We will marry and live happily ever after!”

  “Indeed we will. Now come here, you little imp before your parents arrive.” They commenced their awkward kissing once again.

  *****

  Lord Charles arrived at Wren House a short while later and with the assistance of Jem and Griffin, hobbled to the door. He was bone weary and in pain, but he would not put off this visit. Sloane opened the door to him and he was ushered into the Blue Parlor. It
was still early for morning callers, thank heaven and Lady Warwick, with her black dress, black hair, and black eyes, greeted him warmly, and then ordered tea. Before Sloane had even left the room, Lord Charles spoke.

  “Your Grace, I have come to tell you that Lord Doncaster has accepted my suit and that I am now betrothed to Lady Joanna Temple.” Lord Charles’ pleasure at this announcement was evident. He related the gist of his visit and the terms of the betrothal. “Despite the wait, for I would gladly wed her today, I am very happy. And I have you to thank.”

  “I thought I was to be Adriana, Charles. And I beg to differ. It was on the strength of Miss Kennilworth’s recommendation that I agreed to pay your debt. She felt Reginald would have done so and I agree. You have proven yourself a reformed character. Reginald would be proud of you.”

  “I hope that I am reformed.” He realized that he did not sound very convincing and continued. “Believe me, I do feel that I have changed and am looking forward to making my way in the world with Joanna by my side. We have great hopes for Hidenwood.”

  Lady Warwick smiled. “While it saddens me to see Hidenwood change, for I hold the place quite dear just as it is, I am pleased to see you make the most of it. Thank you for coming to tell me. I am so glad.”

  This seemed a likely time to take his leave, having delivered his message and expressed his thanks. But Lord Charles had one more item weighing heavily on him. Despite his rapidly decreasing energy and rising pain, he chose not to take his leave. “Lady Warwick, I cannot leave without once again expressing my deep regret for the horrible wrong I have done to you. My only defense is desperation, and it is a cowardly defense at that. I hope one day you can truly forgive me.”

  “Charles, do you not remember that I forgave you at least three times while you were still under my roof. I do not excuse you, as I told you then, but I do forgive you. Please, it is forgotten. I hope we can be friends.”

  “I could not believe you were serious. What I tried to do was despicable.” Lord Charles sighed and closed his eyes. He was so weary.

  “Charles, please do not distress yourself. Should I call for your valet?”

  “No, thank you, Lady Warwick. I am fine,” he lied.

  “Charles, if we are to be friends, you must call me Adriana.”

  “I would very much like to be friends, Adriana.”

  The tea while a delayed in its delivery, arrived at the perfect time. Adriana poured him a cup of the brew, Charles accepted, and they both tacitly agreed to change the mien of their conversation.

  “How are you getting on at Woburn Place, Charles. Though you look a bit peaked at the moment, you appear to have much improved over all,” observed Adriana.

  “My appearance has vastly improved and I have regained the use of my left hand. My leg will be another two weeks healing, my ribs a bit longer. I am to stay at Woburn place at least until I can walk out on my own two feet. I shall bravely endure the house being overrun with females.”

  “Overrun with females?” asked Adriana, curious.

  Charles proceeded to tell Adriana about the widow’s home that had been so recently begun at 65 Woburn Place. She was astounded and very pleased.

  “Well, you are indeed the bearer of good news today, Charles. What a marvelous idea of Miss Kennilworth’s.” While Charles agreed in theory, he could not like being so much in the minority. He gave a wan smile. “But I wonder,” continued Adriana, “How can they all possibly survive on the small competence that Reginald left Miss Kennilworth?”

  “It seems daunting. I do believe Lady Whitcomb has a few hundred pounds as well, but I know Lady Tyndale and Mrs. Endicott are as poor as church mice.”

  Adriana was mulling over that thought when the door to the Blue Parlor burst open and Reggie and his puppy burst in. “Mama! I have taught Duke how to sit! Do you want to see.” Before she could answer, Reggie noticed Charles. “Uncle Charles! You came back. Do you feel better?”

  “I do, you young scamp,” he said as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now let us see Duke’s new trick.”

  *****

  Adriana Aiken, Lady Warwick, for the second time descended from her coach and climbed the three steps to number 65 Woburn Place. She was ushered into the parlor by Renfrew just as Isobel, Laura, and Lady Whitcomb were finishing their tea. Serena and Charis were in the upstairs salon playing with newly bought blocks.

  Renfrew at his haughtiest announced the duchess. The three other ladies stood and greeted Lady Warwick. Isobel introduced Laura to Lady Warwick. “Of course, Lady Tyndale. I have heard many nice things about you. It is nice to finally meet you.”

  “I am happy as well,” agreed Laura.

  Isobel offered Lady Warwick a seat and a cup of tea, both of which she took.

  “I have come to ask a favor, Miss Kennilworth,” said Lady Warwick.

  “Of course, what can I do for you, Lady Warwick?” Isobel was still grateful to her for her largesse with Charles.

  “It is a little awkward and perhaps a bit forward of me…” she hesitated. Laura and Lady Whitcomb took that as a cue to leave the other two women alone.

  “I should check on Serena and Charis,” said Lady Whitcomb, sounding like a bad actress.

  “I will help you,” declared Laura.

  “No, please, stay if you are able, for it involves you as well.” They stayed. “You see, I have heard of your widows’ home and I would like to be a part of it.”

  “But, you have a home. Two homes,” declared a surprised Lady Maude.

  “Three actually,” chuckled Adriana good naturedly. “You misunderstand me. I do not mean to live here, but I would like to help to organize it and finance it.”

  “That is very kind of you, Lady Warwick, but why?” Isobel asked. “I do not mean to be ungrateful; I just do not quite understand.”

  “It is fairly simple. I am a widow, but I am a fortunate one. But, for the grace of God it could all be different. I would like to help.”

  “But you are a duchess. Once you are out of mourning you will be the toast of the ton and therefore very busy,” Laura said.

  “I will enjoy entering society in a few months’ time, but one cannot live solely for balls and routs. I would enjoy very much being involved in helping people, in helping widows in distress.”

  Isobel hesitated. It could prove awkward working with Lady Warwick and she was not sure what to do.

  “And lest you think me high minded, I have another reason. I am lonely and bored. I would like to feel as if I am doing something useful. I am also in need of friends. I was hoping you ladies might fulfill that need,” said Adriana, laying her soul bare.

  “After all I have done?” burst out Isobel, and then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “We have been through all that. It is past, buried. I would like to be involved in your future and the future of the widows’ home.”

  “How exactly would you like to be involved?” asked Lady Whitcomb.

  “I would like to donate five thousand pounds per annum and be involved in planning and managing the home. I would like to be a partner.”

  The three other women could not speak. Five thousand pounds! It was too generous. Niggling doubts began to surface in Isobel’s mind. What would she want for her five thousand pounds? Seeing Isobel’s skeptical look, Adriana went on to clarify, “You see, I did say this was awkward. Let me be clear, I would not want to be the person in charge. I truly just want to be a part of something good.”

  “I am for it,” announced Lady Whitcomb, beaming from ear to ear.

  “I have no objection,” agreed Laura.

  “It would be our pleasure to have you join us, Lady Warwick,” Isobel confirmed, still stunned at her generosity.

  “Adriana, please…Isobel.”

  “Adriana. Thank you. We should probably formalize all of this.”

  The ladies spent a long time talking and dreaming. Finally, they agreed to meet in two days’ time with Mr. Pickens to file all the necessary papers. After A
driana took her leave, each of the ladies felt a sense of excitement and that a bit of history was in the making.

  *****

  Lady Warwick had just arrived back at Wren House, when Lady Joanna Temple was announced. The two ladies, though not having been formally introduced, did not let that hinder their almost immediate rapport. They spoke of Charles and the upcoming wedding. Lady Joanna was introduced to Reggie, duly admired Duke and drank a large quantity of tea. At last, Lady Joanna finally raised the true purpose of her visit.

  “You see, Lady Warwick, something must be done about Lord Saybrooke and Miss Kennilworth and you are just the one to help.”

  Lady Warwick was intrigued. And thus the plot was hatched.

  Chapter 19

  Two days later, Isobel, Laura, Lady Whitcomb and Adriana met at Pickens, Walworth and Pickens to formalize their venture, the Warwick Home for Widows. Mr. Pickens, though confounded by the camaraderie shared by Lady Warwick and Miss Kennilworth, was unexpectedly quite pleased by the idea.

  There was a lot of tedious and legal discussion about the structuring of the charity, Mr. Pickens giving the four ladies the benefit of his many years in the practice of law. In the end it was decided and legally documented that the four women shared responsibility and ownership equally. And so the Warwick Home for Widows was established.

  After they arrived home, Lady Whitcomb left to check on Charis and Serena. Isobel and Laura, full of excitement and ideas, got to work planning the widow’s home. They were seated at a small table in the parlor with their notebooks and inkwells at the ready, sharing thoughts and strategies. Now, with Adriana’s pledge of five thousand pounds, they could do so much. Inspired, they sat dreaming out loud for over an hour, discussing the future of the widow’s home. Laura could not contain her enthusiasm. Ideas popped out of her mouth in rapid succession. It warmed Isobel’s heart to see Laura happy. Isobel, too, was very eager to begin and expand this much needed home for widows. But there was still an ache inside of her. She had made reparations with Laura, and now even with Adriana, but something was still amiss. Saybrooke, of course. It hurt so much to have him disapprove of her, but it also made her angry. He had given her that rousing speech about coming to grips with his own sins and less than an hour later he had condemned her again. She must forget him.