by Allison Lane
They chatted half an hour about the activities Emily had planned for the house party. She was preparing to leave when the housekeeper burst into the room, so agitated that she ignored custom, propriety, and the presence of guests.
“My lady, I was never so shocked!” she exclaimed in horror. “The housemaid is in a family way! She must be dismissed instantly..”
“Mrs. Dawkins, control yourself!” commanded an imperious Lady Thorne. “I am occupied with guests just now. We will discuss this at a more appropriate time when you have recovered your manners.”
Mrs. Dawkins reddened and retreated, mumbling an apology.
“Forgive her,” said Lady Thorne. “She is new to the position, and a Methodist to boot, so has not dealt with flighty maids before. But she is too good at her job to dismiss her.”
“She has every right to be shocked,” stated Emily. “Surely you do not condone such improper behavior! You must get rid of the girl at once. Her influence has probably ruined your entire staff.”
“You would throw her out without even discovering the circumstances?” asked Amanda. What a stupid question. Thorne’s dutiful daughter could do nothing else.
“Of course. She should be made an example of.”
“An example of what? There are numerous situations that could result in her condition. Few of them require censure.”
“You are being deliberately obtuse,” complained Emily.
“Hardly unexpected considering your youth and innocence,” Lady Thorne reminded her.
“I had not intended to be obtuse,” retorted Amanda. “I had forgotten that she would know nothing of the world. But since Emily is to be wed soon, she may as well learn..” She turned her attention to her sister. “Servants are routinely preyed upon by unscrupulous sprigs of the aristocracy. Despite what pious ladies decree, I have seen no evidence that they invite such advances. Indeed, after years of living with all manner of men, I have learned that the upper classes believe that servants exist solely to serve in any way their masters decree. Footmen are not much better. Many unwanted pregnancies have resulted from such ravishments.”
“You cannot believe that anyone from the house is responsible for the girl’s condition,” choked Emily.
“Not in this case, for I spoke with her this morning and know the father. But to continue your education, there are a few girls in the servant classes who lack morals. It would be simplistic to blame all situations on arrogant lords and importuning footmen. There are also many girls who are genuinely in love and succumb to a moment’s temptation when they find themselves alone with their beaux. That occurs in all classes, including the highest. When you are in charge of your own house, I would hope that you would try to discover the truth before meting out punishment. A sharp eye quickly discerns which maids invite advances.”
“Do you really expect me to lower myself by accepting the very odd ideas you picked up living among the scaff and raff on the Peninsula?” demanded Emily in amazement.
Amanda drew in a deep breath to steady her temper before replying. “I would hope that your behavior would always reflect both Christian compassion and British fair play. But neither is possible unless you first discover the facts of a situation.”
“What is Lucy’s story?” interrupted Lady Thorne as Emily’s face twisted into fury. “And why have you not told me this earlier?”
“That was the reason for my call,” admitted Amanda. “The girl is in love with the son of one of the tenants. I do not believe he has been teasing her, but he is not in a position to marry at this time, a fact both know full well. It is unfortunate that they allowed their passions to run away with them, but I cannot see that turning Lucy off will accomplish anything beyond throwing both her and the child onto the questionable mercy of the workhouse.”
“You cannot be suggesting that she stay!” Emily burst out in surprise.
“Of course not. It would be fair neither to her nor to the other servants. A better course would be to speak to the young man and discover whether he has any prospects. His family cannot support another mouth, but there may be other options.”
“Has he not discussed it with her?” asked Lady Thorne in surprise.
“Lucy has not yet told him of her condition. She is scarcely two months along. Mrs. Dawkins probably tumbled to the truth because the girl has been suffering morning sickness. If her beau wishes to marry her, then we must contrive some way of bringing it about. They will need a place to live, and he must find some kind of job.”
“You are actually going to mollycoddle those sinners?” asked Emily.
“You are harsh,” commented Lady Thorne coolly. “Life is rarely black and white. I must learn the facts before passing judgment.”
“Discovering the facts is a useful first step to solving any problem,” agreed Amanda, looking pointedly at Emily. “But that can only occur if you keep an open mind and control these emotional outbursts. And the facts often differ from first impressions. There was a case like that on the Peninsula some years ago. Two officers were talking one night, in company with several others. I will call them Tom and Dick. Tom suddenly insulted Dick, deriding his courage, his leadership, and his honesty. Dick tried to pass the comments off as drunken fustian. But when Tom resorted to physical blows despite everyone’s attempts to draw him off, Dick challenged him.”
“Of course,” agreed Emily. “No gentleman could take such ridicule and abuse. I am amazed he showed as much reticence as he did. None of those I met in London last spring would have done so.”
“What really happened?” asked Lady Thorne. “Since you raised this as an example, I presume appearances lied.”
“Precisely..” Amanda nodded. “Dick deliberately goaded Tom into provoking an argument so that his own honor would not be stained by the challenge. He wished to dispatch him and hoped the obvious provocation would stave off surrendering his commission – the usual forfeit for dueling. Tom was avid for a fight, hoping to kill Dick without incurring a charge of murder. None of the allegations were true, a fact both men knew from the outset.”
“But why?”
“Dick had been carrying on an affair with Tom’s wife, which had resulted in her conceiving a child. He deplored allowing his offspring to carry Tom’s name. Tom had just discovered both the connection and his wife’s interesting condition. Instead of challenging Dick for his dalliance – which would have tarnished his wife – he chose to take the blame by provoking a fight over some other cause, for he still cared for her.”
“What happened?” asked Emily.
“Both gentlemen died in combat before the duel could take place.”
Silence reigned while all three ladies considered the story. What Amanda had not mentioned was that the wife had remarried only two months later. The child resembled none of the three men suspected of fathering it. Her new husband was forced to uphold her nonexistent honor several times before being cut down at Vittoria.
“But what is there to know in this case?” asked Emily. “The maid is increasing, yet is unmarried. The Bible labels that as sin.”
“You had best reread that book,” suggested Amanda. “Scripture is not at all consistent on that point. Are we to condemn Mary because Jesus was conceived out of wedlock?”
“Blasphemous!” sputtered Emily. “That is not the same thing at all.”
“No, it is not, but I am delighted to see you judge it on the merits. Try to do the same here. Compassion is a wonderful concept,” she added thoughtfully. “It lies at the root of the religion we all espouse. Do not be too quick to assign blame, Emily. God will do so soon enough. And that is His prerogative.”
“Am I to condone her behavior, then?”
“Not at all. It is unfortunate, at best. But there are degrees of guilt and ranges of punishment. Sometimes it is better to help someone work through a problem rather than apply a harsh penalty that simply makes matters worse.”
Emily subsided. She had not fully accepted Amanda’s comments, but if Lad
y Thorne chose not to condemn them, Emily could not. She took her leave and departed.
“Who is Lucy’s young man?” asked Lady Thorne when she and Amanda were again alone.
“Tom Pilcher.”
The dowager raised her brows. As the youngest son of the poorest tenant family, it was obvious why he could not offer marriage. “Is there anything he can do to support Lucy?”
“Not at the Court, certainly. But Lucy claims he is a wizard with his hands. There is a tinker in Middleford who is said to indulge in inventing. He seems wealthy enough to afford an assistant.”
“Mr. Summerton?”
“Yes. I do not know if it will work, but it is worth considering.”
Lady Thorne agreed, so Amanda bade her farewell, leaving her grandmother the unpleasant task of soothing the ruffled feathers of the righteously indignant Mrs. Dawkins.
Emily was waiting for her outside. “I must apologize for my comments just now. I was being a hopeless prig.”
“Not surprising in one raised at Thornridge,” said Amanda. She motioned Emily into her gig and set her horse in motion.
“I am not usually this testy,” murmured Emily. “I don’t know what is wrong with me lately.”
“You aren’t regretting your betrothal, are you?” Emily did not look like a happy bride. No one knew better than Amanda how inappropriate Thorne’s choice of spouse could be.
“Of course not!” Emily sputtered. “It is an excellent match, better than anyone else can hope to achieve.”
Amanda said nothing. The silence stretched until Emily felt compelled to fill it.
“I do occasionally wonder how we will suit,” she murmured, almost to herself. “He is so cold. And he never smiles.”
“I have only met him a few times, but he seems to be a very contained individual,” Amanda agreed. “I understand he was married before. Do you know anything of his first wife?”
“Nothing. He never mentions her. In fact, I did not even know of her existence until the duke cried off the house party last summer. Papa mentioned his widowed state but did not elaborate.”
“I would hardly call it crying off,” Amanda chided her. “A broken arm must be carefully tended if it to heal properly.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. But how am I to live with so aloof a man? He refuses to have anything to do with the household, or entertainments, or anything else that I can see.”
“How do you know?”
“To start with, he does nothing but play at cards and billiards, or go out shooting. He shuns games, charades, musical evenings, and even conversation. He told me some time ago that he deplored society and will not participate beyond a bit of entertaining necessary to politics.”
“That is not unusual,” stated Amanda firmly. “Many gentlemen dislike the shallowness of the polite world.”
“Perhaps. But he was horrid to me yesterday,” she admitted. “I asked him whether he would object to waltzes at the ball – Papa deplores them, even though they have been allowed at Almack’s for years, and I hoped that Norwood’s sanction would ease the restriction.”
“Did he object?”
“He said nothing. Just castigated me for bothering him with silly details. I swear, his haughtiness was worse even than Papa’s. I wish Mama were still alive. Her help would make this easier.”
Amanda caught a plaintive note in Emily’s voice and realized something she should have known long ago. She had always lumped her siblings together with Lord and Lady Thorne, assuming that they shared every trait. They were a family to which she did not belong. But she had failed to consider the Thornes’ temperaments. Both were cold individuals who loved only duty. Their children would have suffered the same lack of affection that she herself had lived with. Emily was looking for warmth. And she would not find it in Norwood.
“I do not know the duke well, but my impression is that he is much like Father in that he will expect the same adherence to his wishes that Thorne demanded from your mother. If you recall, she never asked him for anything, carrying out his orders without question, seeing that meals and household routine reflected his tastes, and making his life as easy as possible without ever subjecting him to female megrims or uncertainties.”
Emily shuddered. “I had forgotten.”
“What else does devotion to duty allow?” asked Amanda. “If you wish for companionship, you must make an effort to know the real man. I suspect that a warmer individual might be lurking beneath his cold facade, but you will have to look for it on your own. He will not willingly expose himself to the world. Gentlemen never do.”
“But how can I?” she countered in despair. “He has made it clear that he wants no close connection between us. Trying to push for more than he is willing to give is both forward and undutiful.”
“It will take time. But that is one thing you will have in abundance – your whole life, in fact.”
“I suppose we are bound to grow closer eventually,” observed Emily.
“Perhaps he also wishes for a companion but is uncertain how to achieve that,” suggested Amanda.
“That might be possible..” She paused and Amanda could feel her tension. Emily finally sighed and plunged ahead. “You mentioned that you were not in love when you wed but came to be so. Is it really possible for well-bred people to experience such a plebeian emotion?”
Amanda glanced at her sister, but Emily was staring at the hedgerow they were passing. “Absolutely,” she answered. “Love is not restricted to any particular class. Those who claim it does not exist have simply not met a person whom they could love.”
“What is it like?” asked Emily hesitantly. Her neck indicated that she was blushing.
Amanda felt a wave of compassion for her sister. The poor girl knew nothing of the world and faced being passed along from one cold lord to another, with no more control of her destiny than a family heirloom or the prize in a game of chance. Personally, she doubted that Emily could ever love Norwood. But odder matches had worked, so perhaps she was wrong. “Love is difficult to describe and nearly impossible to define,” she said matter-of-factly. “Every person experiences something different. The more common descriptions include an accelerated heartbeat when the loved one enters the room, chills and goose bumps from each touch, and an aching longing whenever you are apart. But the same feelings also describe infatuation. Telling the difference between the two can be difficult. For example, I always believed that love grew slowly – probably because that is how it was with me – but Jack’s friend Harry Smith fell in love in less than a minute and remains so to this day. There are questions that can help clarify your thinking, however. Do you put his interests first or yours? Do not confuse that with duty, by the way. This concerns honest desire. Can you see and accept his faults? It is not love if you think he is perfect. Do you care as much when you are together as when you are apart? If your feelings are stronger when you are together, they are probably rooted in lust. If they are stronger apart, you are using him to escape some unpleasant situation.”
“It all sounds so confusing,” complained Emily.
“True. But you alone can define your feelings. I hope you can someday love your husband, Emily. It leaves you open to pain, yet the joy more than makes up for that. But do not expect miracles. In my experience, love grows from friendship. To become friends, you must first find some common interest that you can develop together.”
Amanda dropped the subject. Whatever had triggered these questions, she did not believe that Emily and Norwood would be happy. They were too different, and neither resembled their public facades. Her sister was not the dutiful, emotionless miss that Thorne had decreed she portray, though she was still too uncertain of her own needs to step out from behind that mask. Norwood, on the other hand, seemed set in his ways, firmly ensconced behind the cold, humorless façade of the duke. A strong-willed person could pull him out of that shell, but Emily was not forceful. Compounding the problem was the vast gulf that separated the two – in experienc
e, in temperament, in age. Emily lacked the confidence and Norwood the motivation that might bridge it.
But it was too late to change anything. The betrothal was fixed. Though it had not been publicly announced, too many people knew of it. And she could never counsel another girl to rebel as she herself had done. It had been right for her, but elopement and life in the army had severed her from society. Emily could never accept that. No matter how many second thoughts she entertained, jilting a duke would cast too big a shadow on her reputation to allow her to return to town. And there was no one with whom she could elope. Simply repudiating her betrothal would be even worse, leaving her virtually unmarriageable.
Chapter Eleven
“Will you be accompanying us to Fountains Abbey, your grace?” asked Emily hesitantly as the duke accepted breakfast from a footman.
“I believe so,” he replied, though he had no particular desire to go. But he had decided to spend more time with his betrothed in hopes that they might become friends. Since she spent most of her time with the guests, he would have to follow suit.
They ate in silence for some minutes.
“Have you seen Fountains before, your grace? I presume it is the abbey itself that attracts you, since you’ve no interest in picnics.”
“I have no particular liking for ruins, having lived with them. One of my estates contains an old abbey, though not so large preserved as Fountains. But it is a pleasant day for a drive.”
A spark lit her eyes at the mention of his ruins, but it disappeared immediately. Five minutes later she excused herself from the breakfast room, not having uttered another word. Norwood sighed.
It definitely was a beautiful day, he decided as they began the two-hour trek to Fountains Abbey, though he would have been happier spending it shooting with Geoffrey. The gentlemen were riding while the ladies sat docilely in carriages. He was making no progress with Emily. She avidly conversed with her friends, paying no attention to the men. And before long, the road narrowed so they could not ride alongside. He must wait until they arrived.
