No, Edward could not fully understand her appeal to his son.
“Ah—speaking of feathers and frippery…” Frederick stopped, his attention directed toward the front of the house. He straightened and plucked at his cravat, preening. “Look who has arrived.”
“Freddie!” a female cried out. “Is he with you?”
Augusta? Edward stepped back to gaze in the same direction as Frederick. It was a surprise to see her so soon.
“Dear Papa!” In a blur of movement and fabric, Augusta flung herself into her father’s arms, nearly knocking the breath from him.
“I, too, am very happy to see you, dear daughter.” Edward chuckled, very willingly, and in earnest, hugging his eldest. “Welcome home, Gusta.”
“Oh, Papa, how good it is to see you.” The sweet fragrance of rose water mingled with the warmth of fine woven silk, a female scent nearly forgotten by Edward, rose from her hair and the fabric of her dress.
“And I would be most delighted to see you as well, if only I were given an opportunity.” He felt his voice catch with the rush of sentiment, and he pulled at her arms, which were clasped tightly around his neck. “Come now, do allow me to take a proper look at you.”
Although she loosened her grasp, she did not release him altogether, keeping tight hold of his hands, and Edward regarded her at arm’s length. Augusta had blossomed into a beautiful young woman.
She resembled her mother, with the same eyes, auburn-colored hair, and the oval-shaped face. Most of all Augusta looked happy. Again Edward felt an unfamiliar lump of emotion in his throat. There was nothing more important that a father could ask for his daughter.
“She completely ruined your cravat. It’s crushed beyond all repair,” Frederick commented. “Am I to be totally ignored?” He held out his arms for his welcome.
Augusta finally released Edward to lean into her brother’s embrace. She planted a kiss upon each of his cheeks. “I am very happy to see you too, Freddie.”
“That’s better. I thought you’d abandoned me. And here I thought I was your favorite brother.”
“You’re my only brother, but I’d adore you just the same if I had a dozen,” Augusta stated with sincerity.
“Brave words, my girl.” Frederick tilted his head back, appearing a bit dubious of his sibling. He chucked her under the chin and smiled.
“I was just now heading up to my bedchamber to begin my toilette,” Augusta told them. “Char cannot wait to see the family, and expects us to join her this evening.”
“Char-Char is here?” Frederick’s gaze met Edward’s gaze before darting to Augusta.
“We had planned to dine at White’s, then attend the theater tonight,” the Duke replied, glancing at his son, who did not react either favorably or unfavorably at this possible change in their plans. Edward half expected Frederick might have some surreptitious rendezvous in mind, something akin to their first excursion to the opera.
“Her card arrived after you left, just before I arrived. Ralston—” Augusta called out for the butler.
“My lady?” He appeared at her side.
“Would you bring the note my sister sent this afternoon?” She gestured to her father, indicating Edward would be the recipient.
“At once.” Ralston stepped away to retrieve the item.
“And the invitation from Lady Kimball, if you would,” Augusta called after him. “We cannot possibly refuse Char, Papa. She would be crushed.”
“I have no intention of declining. I merely wonder how we are to meet our social obligations.”
“Social obligations?” Augusta huffed. “You sound as if it were a chore!”
The butler returned, holding out the missives to the Duke.
Edward opened one, skimming the message. “Your aunt Mary invites us, the four of us, to join the rest of the family for supper tomorrow night.”
“Why the rush?” Frederick stepped away from them, bringing the heels of his Hessians down more forcefully in a clear but perhaps an immature expression of his displeasure. “You’ve only arrived this afternoon and you’ll be here for weeks to come, I wager.”
“I cannot think why there is any hurry, Freddie.” Augusta sounded more offended than surprised at the behavior of her aunt at such a hasty summons for their presence.
“Only that it has been a long time since you or Char has seen your aunt and uncle. It might be years, I expect. As for this evening”—Edward could sympathize with his son; attending dinner at Charlotte’s would alter his plans—“you cannot blame her for wishing to see those who are so dear after such a long time parted from us. I must confess I am rather anxious to see her myself.”
“No, I dare not suggest we refuse,” Frederick admitted, sounding rather humbled by his father’s heartfelt words. “I, too, desire to welcome our dear Char-Char to Town. There is nothing for it, we shall delay our arrival to the theater.”
“Very well done of you, Freddie. We all must make some concessions.” Edward moved toward his son and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a bracing shake. “It seems Gusta will need to fight her fatigue after her day’s travel, and we will be late for our evening’s entertainment.”
“You are correct, as always, Father.” The tightness in Frederick’s face eased. In turn, his shoulders relaxed. He glanced at his sister and replied in a calm and mature manner, completely opposite from what he had displayed only a minute earlier. “It is a trifle matter I gladly forgo. As always, I do so willingly for the sake of family.”
At five p.m. Louise had traded her gardening frock and work apron for a willow-green gown and descended the staircase. She came face-to-face with Betty, who must have entered from the servants’ stairs.
“Ma’am, if you please.” The downstairs maid bobbed a curtsy.
“What is it?” Louise pulled her dark, green-patterned cashmere shawl around her shoulders.
“Dora’s awfully done in. She can manage to boil some onions, carrots, potatoes, and a joint for a simple meal: soup and rarebit planned.” Betty’s face creased with worry. “Dora’s put out ’cause she’s not a hand in the kitchen.”
“I’m sure that will be fine.” Louise was not particular about their menu as long as the four of them did not starve. “I have nothing but appreciation that she should take on duties beyond her position.”
“That’s wots I told her but she’s feeling poorly about it.” And Dora’s insecurity appeared to be rubbing off onto Betty.
“Nonsense, she needn’t be.” Apparently Betty’s reassurance did nothing. Louise needed to tell the girl herself. “I shall have a word with Dora.” She headed for the servants’ staircase and paused when the door knocker sounded.
Betty glanced at Louise, who urged her to answer the front door. The maid’s small voice bade a welcome but she rushed backward, pulling the door open wide. In stepped the Dowager Countess Gelsthorpe and, closely behind, a footman who closed the front door.
“Is it too late to receive callers, Lady Vernon?” Lady Gelsthorpe strolled into the foyer as if she were paying a call in the middle of the afternoon instead of early evening, and dismissed Betty with the wave of her gloved hand. The Countess’s gaze swept the room with the turn of her pheasant-feathered, violet-turbaned head, taking in her surroundings.
“No, not at all.” Louise moved away from the servants’ staircase; Betty then dashed behind her, disappearing in a matter of seconds. “I had not expected you to call…so soon.”
“Did we or did we not receive your at-home card?” Lady Gelsthorpe always referred to herself as though she were royalty.
“Well, you did, of course.”
“To be frank, we were quite shocked to hear that you had returned so soon after your departure this spring.” There was no attempt on the Countess’s part to remove her gloves or divest herself of her redingote, which indicated she would not remain for any great length of time.
“It is true I had planned to stay with my sister until August or September…” Louise did not car
e to go into detail while they stood in the foyer. “Would you care to come into the parlor and sit?”
“We fear to enter an establishment where safety of the occupants may be in question.” The Countess’s chin lifted in a manner that almost dared Louise to state otherwise.
“There is nothing amiss, my lady,” Louise assured her guest.
“Nothing amiss?” Lady Gelsthorpe’s well-trained impassive facade slipped a bit, allowing her obvious outrage to emerge. “We have just been admitted through the front door of your home by a housemaid. Where is your butler?”
“He is on holiday.” The precise whereabouts of Baines were unknown to her.
“You should have recalled him immediately upon your return. And what, pray tell, has become of the rest of the servants? We can only imagine that you are dangerously understaffed.” The Countess exhaled in exasperation. “How can you expect your household to run properly?”
It was true. Domestic order would only be achieved with the return of the butler and housekeeper to manage the upstairs maids, the downstairs maids, and the footmen. Cook and the rest of the kitchen staff would see to the feeding of the entire occupants of the townhouse.
“Do not fret so,” Louise tried to reassure her friend. “The three remaining members and I can manage for ourselves quite well.”
“Three? Oh, no. This will not do at all.” The Countess narrowed her eyes and raised her hand. “We feared, somehow suspected, something would be amiss.”
Her attending footman opened the front door, allowing two additional footmen to enter. They moved slowly, struggling under the weight of a massive hamper.
“Our cook has put together a larder and prepared a few dishes that should suffice until the end of the week.” With the nod of her head she instructed them to proceed with their delivery to the kitchen.
“There was no need for that, truly.” Louise could not stop them, though she was glad for a few additional provisions.
“It is inconceivable you could fully sustain your household. You might get anyone to answer a door, but without a cook under your roof, we cannot conceive that a body could have the strength to reach the door.”
Lady Gelsthorpe’s harsh words regarding the running of the household might have seemed unfeeling if it were not that the Countess behaved in a manner that was excessively kind. The Countess never tolerated any nonsense. Perhaps that had to do with being raised by a duke and duchess’s firm hand, or perhaps it had more to do with raising five sons of her own.
Kate Gelsthorpe had befriended Louise and a few other fledgling women, wives of her late husband’s friends, since all of them had now lost their husbands. She gave them a chance to meet according to their various interests and go about in public without feeling de trop. Their small group need not feel obligated to their various family members for any social activities.
“I thank you for your consideration, my lady. I suppose you must know best.” Louise might have felt embarrassed if it were not for her overwhelming gratitude.
“Of course we have the right of it.”
“Will you come into the parlor? I’ll send for tea.”
“Another time, perhaps. You have just returned to Town, and we concede you are not quite prepared to entertain visitors.” The footmen who delivered the hamper returned, skirting around the edge of the room, behind their mistress. “We fully expect you to return to the reading group. We have just begun the new novel Emma.” She held out her gloved hand and the attending footman placed a small volume within. Lady Gelsthorpe then offered the book to Louise. “You may read the first three chapters on your own to catch up. Since you are in possession of our book, you may be the first to read chapter four aloud at our next meeting.”
“I would be honored to do so.” Louise turned the spine of the book up in her hands and glanced at the words:
EMMA
BY
THE AUTHOR OF
Pride and Prejudice
VOL. I
“We meet at the same time, three o’clock on Friday—unless you are otherwise engaged,” the Countess continued politely.
“No, I am not. Thank you.” Louise had always been somewhat of a recluse. Lady Gelsthorpe knew full well she would not have any other plans. “I would be delighted to join you.”
“Excellent. Our carriage will arrive at half past two and convey you to Benchley Manor.” The Countess smiled. “Lady Ashton, Mrs. Dumfries, and Miss Dillingham will all be present. Mrs. Templeton is, at present, visiting her daughter in Leicestershire.”
“I look forward to seeing the others.” Louise inclined her head and made a slight curtsy. “I thank you for your kindness. The larder basket is greatly appreciated.”
Lady Gelsthorpe bowed her head in response. “We attempt to watch over the ones we care for, do we not?” She raised her hand as if recalling something that very moment. “You shall also accompany our party Saturday afternoon. We plan to attend the Royal Academy Art Exhibition.” A fleeting smile graced her lips before she turned to depart. “We all look forward to seeing you again.”
At eight o’clock that evening, Edward, Frederick, and Augusta entered Danbury House to peals of cries and laughter. Charlotte hugged Edward for such a duration he thought it might never end. When she finally released him and he could look upon her properly, despite the unshed tears in her lovely blue eyes, she looked well and very happy.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said, keeping a tight hold of her father’s hands.
Edward held his daughter’s precious hands in his. He did not care if she never released him. “It is so very good to see you, my dearest,” he replied.
Augusta, garbed in puce, which brought out the auburn highlights in her hair, stood next to her siblings. Frederick, as had Edward, had dressed for the theater, which they would attend after supper.
“Please come in and allow me to introduce you to our guests.” Charlotte released Edward’s right hand and took a few steps toward the corridor, drawing her father by his left.
“Guests?” Frederick sounded somewhat dismayed. “I thought we were to dine with only family tonight?”
“They are relations of my husband,” Charlotte explained, leading the way.
“Sir Philip leaves you to entertain his relatives while he tends to business?”
“I have no objection, Freddie. He will return as soon as he is able.” Charlotte turned into the parlor where two ladies stood waiting. “May I present Lady Margaret Cowden, Sir Philip’s aunt, and his cousin, Miss Jane Orr.”
Edward greeted the handsome women with a respectful bow. “How do you do, Lady Margaret, Miss Orr?” Neither lady looked to be much over thirty. If either was over forty it would have surprised him.
“My father, the Duke of Faraday.” Charlotte released Edward’s hand and stepped to one side. She concluded the introductions with, “My brother the Earl of Brent and my sister Lady Augusta.”
“How do you do, Your Grace,” the women chorused. Each sank into a curtsy. “Lord Brent, Lady Augusta.”
There were general greeting niceties circulating among the newly acquainted relations. It soon seemed Lady Margaret and Miss Orr turned their attention exclusively to the Duke.
“I hear your country home is in Essex, Your Grace,” Miss Orr commented, leaning toward him.
“Yes, that is correct. Faraday Hall has been in my family for many generations, since the time of Queen Anne.” Edward deemed her proximity a bit too close, and he edged back from her.
“A charming Tudor mansion, from what I hear,” Lady Margaret remarked with interest, swaying her way in and gesturing as she spoke.
“It is exactly the very thing.” Edward took a step backward to escape the advancing ladies. “Charlotte has told you, I suppose?”
“I believe she did mention it.” Miss Orr brought her gloved index finger to her chin, pivoting to steal a glance at said daughter. When the cousin returned to gaze upon him, she had somehow placed herself very near to his sho
ulder.
If Edward could not manage to remove himself from her reach, he was not at all certain her next step would not be to slide her arm through his. He inched back, for the third time, and his foot came upon the hard edge of the hearth.
He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but they somehow managed to corner him across the room and nearly into the cast-iron dog grate. A well-planned, graceful step to one side brought him next to the carved white marble chimneypiece. From there he could skirt along a dado railing of the half-paneled wall toward one of the sash windows. It gave Edward the oddest feeling, something akin to being prey.
“Lady Charlotte recommended we take the time to see some of the Town sights.” Lady Margaret’s suggestive tone implied the unthinkable. “We had thought to visit Vauxhall Gardens one evening.”
“An excellent entertainment, I should think.” Edward smiled in all politeness. Tolerating the ladies for dinner tonight might be pressing his endurance for accommodating newly made acquaintances, or recent distant relations, to its limit. He must remember to thank Frederick for the social obligations that prevented him from accommodating these visitors.
“What might Your Grace deem worthwhile?” Lady Margaret inquired with formidable interest.
The Duke stood before them silently, contemplating the possible consequence of his answer.
“Your Grace?” asked Miss Orr, staring at him without blinking.
“Your Grace?” Lady Margaret repeated, her gaze firmly fixed upon him. She waited for his next word.
Edward, too, wondered what he would say.
Augusta observed her father, busy across the room with the new acquaintances. Lady Margaret bore a slight likeness to Charlotte’s husband. For Miss Orr there was no resemblance at all, and neither lady resembled the other in the least. “They’re Sir Philip’s relatives, you say?”
“They are,” Charlotte replied. “Lady Margaret is Sir Philip’s aunt on his mother’s side, and Miss Orr is his cousin on his father’s side.”
The Duke Dilemma Page 6
