Super Summer Set of Historical Shorts

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Mrs. McEwan closed the door to the handsomely decorated guest room behind Tabitha, who felt slightly adrift without Tillie’s familiar and comforting presence beside her.

  “My husband has been watching you,” she began and Tabitha stilled. What on earth did that mean? “We both think you’re a kind, yet strong, good person and exactly who we are looking for.”

  Tabitha waited for her to continue. What an odd way of starting a conversation after an already odd proposition.

  “This small job is more than just dressing Her Grace,” Mrs. McEwan went on. “It was a barely hidden truth that her husband was a man prone to his dalliances — some more notorious than others. Her Grace turned a blind eye for many reasons. She was stuck in the marriage no matter what, so what was the use of fighting for a man who wanted nothing more from her than an heir? And she had her son to protect. But she was humiliated, and there are some in her circle, some she cannot avoid, who would love nothing more than to continually remind and humiliate Her Grace at any chance.”

  Tabitha blinked and drew in a breath.

  “That is awful, but I am unsure of how this has anything to do with me.”

  Mrs. McEwan sat at the small writing desk and clasped her hands.

  “We are hoping that in addition to coordinating her ensembles, you can act as a sort of protector of Her Grace,” Mrs. McEwan said. “Some of those gossipy little hornets will be here when her son returns and it is quite obvious that all eyes will be on her. We would not only like you to ensure she looks the elegant duchess that she is, but we were hoping you could do your best to shield Her Grace from potentially harmful situations. She is a very kind-hearted woman and if those despicable gossips get their talons in her and start dredging up the painful past, well, we are afraid that Her Grace might crumble and make a spectacle of herself that she would very much regret later.”

  Tabitha took a moment and looked up at the ceiling, considering her options.

  “This is the strangest job offer I have ever received, I shall have you know,” she muttered.

  “It’s the strangest position I have ever offered, I promise you that,” Mrs. McEwan countered, making Tabitha smile.

  Tabitha sighed.

  “So, you need a wardrobe consultant and someone who will stand between these society women and Her Grace if they decide to unsheathe their claws? That is what you need from me?”

  Mrs. McEwan nodded.

  “Are you not taking a bit of a risk on me? You hardly know me. What if I fail miserably?”

  That made the older woman smile.

  “Bernard told me about the baron’s daughter who tried to cheat you out of your bill last month,” she said with a sly grin. “He had been waiting to deliver the order for Her Grace to you when he witnessed the encounter. You were firm yet tactful with her. You protected your business interests without any dramatics. We had been looking for someone like you, and you impressed him. We are hoping he is right.”

  Tabitha blew out a breath.

  “I certainly am, too,” she said. “I am the daughter of a merchant, Mrs. McEwan. I am not exactly well-practiced in the finer arts of society conversation and manners.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of her hand. “Bernard delved into your family’s history, trust me. Your father was a well-respected artisan and from what I hear, the two of you used to be quite the pair in polite society. Not quite peerage, but still. I have heard talk of the parties Sir Elias Blackmore and his charming daughter threw.”

  Warmth spread in her chest at the memory of her father’s holiday parties. They were a tradition that she and the household staff had looked forward to preparing each Christmas season. Obviously, the parties died when her father had.

  “I mentioned we will pay you,” Mrs. McEwan went on. “I meant that. You will leave tomorrow with the equivalent of payment for ten bonnets. Consider this an investment, and if you are successful we will invest more.”

  She had already agreed down in Mrs. McEwan’s office, but the mention of a handsome price confirmed her resolve.

  Tabitha nodded. “Fine,” she said with a smile. “Provide me the details on who to watch out for, who to divert, and what I am supposed to wear.”

  Mrs. McEwan stood and poked her head out the door, murmuring to someone down the hall. When she was finished, she shut the door again and resumed her seat, motioning for Tabitha to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Our biggest concern is that of His Grace’s former mistresses. There is one in particular who may seek to hurt Her Grace however she can. She is a horrid woman, but a baroness and so she is given access and invitations out of propriety. But whenever they have encountered each other before, the woman insists on dropping hints about her scandalous affair with Reginald Fairchild in hopes to knock Her Grace down a peg or two,” Mrs. McEwan said with a huff. “Really, Miss Blackmore, the woman is nothing more than a cave troll, but being married to a powerful baron has made her nearly impervious to the rules of polite society that govern us all. And her horrid daughter is just as bad, likely to get worse once she gets her claws in the current Duke of Stowe, Nicholas.”

  “Who are they?” Tabitha asked.

  Mrs. McEwan let out a long sigh.

  “Lady Hester Banon and her daughter, Sabine,” she said. “To be certain, Sabine is one of the prettiest girls to be found, but she has been spoiled and corrupted by her parents and believes herself to be entitled to the best — which she has deemed is His Grace. And it is her mother’s grandest scheme to see her daughter married off to the son of the woman she has considered her biggest rival since childhood.”

  Tabitha frowned at Mrs. McEwan’s tale.

  “Her Grace and Lady Banon were girls together and have always had a serious rivalry, so I have been told,” Mrs. McEwan continued. “Her Grace married the duke that Lady Banon had set her eyes on, and this began a lifetime of revenge and attention seeking, which the duke was only all too willing to participate in, blackguard that he was. They humiliated Her Grace for most of her marriage, but she kept her poise and raised a good and kind son despite everything. So, I believe Lady Banon’s path of revenge is far from over, and we all believe Her Grace does not deserve this. She is a kind and honorable woman and should be allowed to live her life in peace.”

  “That’s awful,” Tabitha whispered and Mrs. McEwan nodded.

  “Her Grace does not possess a mean bone in her body,” Mrs. McEwan continued. “And she is easily cut by the remarks of others. She has thin skin when it comes to things like this and we all want her to finally be free and happy now that her official mourning period is over. She can begin life anew, if only these vultures would move on and let her.”

  So true, Tabitha mused. However, was she really capable of swatting away the talons of high society women versed in the art of subtle cruelty and insults? Where Tabitha came from, things were more overt, and insults would be labeled as such on the spot. It seemed that this game required a deftness and dexterity of mind and word that she was unpracticed at.

  “I shall do my best, Mrs. McEwan,” she said with a nod of her head. “Although I know I will need help along the way. This is all uncharted territory for me. And how am I just to present myself within their circle? I am not a peer. I do not belong here.”

  Mrs. McEwan batted her hand in the air, dismissing Tabitha’s worries.

  “Never mind that,” she said. “We have come up with a story to fool anyone who digs deep enough. You are here as the guest of Alexander Landon, Earl of Rutland, cousin of His Grace. Alex is a bit of a scoundrel but a good boy, and he has agreed to let us use him as an alibi to help Her Grace. Our story is that you are a distant relation of his mother’s and are under the care of his family while your mother, a baroness, is traveling. You will meet him this afternoon, and you can iron out the details then. But no worrying. Lady Banon will not be concerned with you when she has much bigger targets in sight.”

  Tabitha nodded, but did not r
emain wholly convinced. If she was going to put herself in the crosshairs of this woman, surely she would look into Tabitha’s story in search of a skeleton in the proverbial closet to use?

  Tabitha cast the thought out — she would only be here a day or so — and focused on Mrs. McEwan.

  “So, you will do it?” Mrs. McEwan was smiling and waiting for Tabitha’s reply.

  “I shall do my best, Mrs. McEwan, but it seems risky,” she said. “What sort of trouble will we have brought to Her Grace if our scheme is discovered? Surely the consequences of that would far outweigh a few snide remarks and a scheming bride-to-be? What if His Grace wants to marry Miss Banon?”

  Mrs. McEwan recoiled in horror at her words and hissed.

  “Do not say such things, child,” she whispered, her eyes round and huge. “Such a horrible notion! He would not want to marry that creature and even if he should, I would rather shove him out a second-story window than curse him with a life connected to that family. No, most certainly not!”

  Mrs. McEwan pushed to her feet and was still shaking her head at Tabitha’s words as she walked toward the door.

  “If you will follow me, I will lead you back to where we shall keep the gowns and accessories you will choose for Her Grace. Then we will get you introduced to Alexander,” she said. “Tonight’s dinner is not a formal affair, but some guests have arrived early and will be in attendance. His Grace will hopefully be here in time for dinner. We expect Lady Banon and her daughter will not arrive until much later this evening, so you will be fortunate to have dinner tonight without them.”

  She said the last words with a shudder that almost made Tabitha smile. Surely these women must have two heads and fangs dripping with venom, considering Mrs. McEwan’s visceral reaction to the very thought of them.

  “You will have two new gowns here momentarily,” Mrs. McEwan said as they made their way down the hall. “I sent Anita to Rochester’s after giving them a dress order last week — we took a gamble that you would accept and you did, lovely girl. We took a guess at your sizes but I believe they should fit you well.”

  As they rounded the corner back to the staff dining room, Tabitha took a deep breath and assured herself that all would be well. More than well, this entire subterfuge would be well worth the worry and anxiety at potentially being exposed when she found herself in Paris next fall attending classes and making important connections.

  “Right,” Mrs. McEwan muttered to herself as she opened the door to the dining room and motioned for Tabitha to work her magic. “The games are afoot, child. Let’s play them well.”

  Chapter 4

  Nicholas Fairchild, the Duke of Stowe, looked out the window of the carriage at the familiar rolling green hills and released a weary sigh. This was beautiful terrain, but he knew they were nearing London. He was returning for the first time in over a year, and he was desperately dreading all that lay ahead of him.

  His time in France had been a relief, a place where he was still a duke, but the responsibility did not weigh so heavily on him night and day, as no one cared quite so much as they did in London. It was an escape from society, from parties, from meaningless conversations and desperate mothers pushing their vapid daughters on him.

  He was, however, looking forward to seeing his mother. They had always been close, she a kind, gentle soul who had spent her life in a loveless marriage, one in which she was constantly scorned and embarrassed. Nicholas had hated his father for his treatment of her, and when Reginald died, Nicholas’ first feeling had been one of relief. He’d felt guilt at the emotion; however, no longer did his mother have to endure humiliation as the entire ton knew of his father’s not-so-discreet dalliances, and no longer did she have to keep up pretenses as his content, loving wife.

  After his father had passed, Nicholas attended to matters of the estate before leaving for France. He had needed time away from society, time to determine how to best proceed with life as the Duke of Stowe while still remaining Nicholas Fairchild.

  If he were honest with himself, he was also leaving to be free of women like Sabine Banon and her mother, Lady Banon. They were like leeches, hangers-on who simply bled their prey of all they had to offer.

  It had taken Nicholas some time to come to this realization. In his younger years, he had certainly enjoyed his pleasures with women — though only with those who were willing and unattached. They were drawn in by his silky dark locks, strong jawbone, and intense dark eyes. Not many women were completely at ease in his presence, however, with his straightforward conversation and impatience with shallow frivolities.

  His father had encouraged him to “sow his oats,” but once he reached a marriageable age, Nicholas’ parents agreed on one thing — it was high time he find a bride and create a family of his own. He attended all of the balls and dances required of him, but soon tired of them as women practically threw their daughters at him, and the picture perfect young ladies simpered and giggled and gazed at him, their conversation rote and tedious.

  Nicholas had determined he would never find a woman in society with any character until one night he had come across the broken carriage of Miss Sabine Banon. He had accompanied her home and arranged for the wheel to be fixed. He had been charmed by her beauty and her flirtatious manner, and they began a brief courtship.

  The duke was pleased and pushed the match while Nicholas could tell that his mother, though she never said a word, disapproved of Sabine and her family. He should have followed his mother’s instincts and inclinations earlier.

  It wasn’t until he had come upon Sabine berating her maid for a curl or two out of place that Nicholas had begun to see her for who she truly was. He took the time to observe her behavior towards others when she was not aware he was present, and he became thoroughly disappointed — in her and in himself for not seeing through her facade sooner.

  When his father passed and the pressure to find a bride increased, Nicholas became particularly weary of the whole charade of society and left for the family home in France. He had, in time, come to terms with the fact that he had to shoulder his responsibilities as a duke, and had agreed to return home to support his mother as she began her return to society.

  He was looking forward to seeing her again. He had also missed Lorna and Bernard, the steward and the housekeeper. Their relationship with him was unlikely, but they had been a solid wall of support for Nicholas during his formative years.

  And Alex would be at the party. The thought brought a smile to Nicholas’ face. It had been far too long since he had seen his cousin and close friend — the one who could always make him laugh no matter the circumstance, whose sunny disposition and quick wit would be a welcome reprieve from the mothers and their daughters who would be at the party craving his attention.

  The truth was, there were many beautiful, polite young women available to him, but none kept him entertained for more than five minutes. He wanted a woman who would say as she felt, not what she thought was proper or expected.

  Where he would find a woman like that, he could not say. Once he found her, however, he would not let her go.

  The carriage pulled into the rounded drive of the expansive manse, bringing back a flood of memories for Nicholas, of his mostly happy childhood, his father, and the people he did so love in this house. Yes, he decided, the next duchess would be one who would bring happiness to this home, to erase away the past of his father. She would be straightforward, honest, someone he could truly trust and share his life with.

  He wanted a marriage like that of the McEwans. He smiled as he thought of Lorna and Bernard, who had no children of their own and therefore had showered him with love and affection throughout his childhood. He had only felt that he could leave his mother for the past year because they were there to watch after her.

  Nicholas noted that their guests had begun to arrive, and asked his driver to take him to the back entrance so he could go unseen for a time as he reacquainted himself with the McEwans and his mother before j
oining the guests.

  Nicholas alighted from the carriage and strode in through the door. The first person he saw was Lorna, and he enveloped her in a hug, picking her off the ground and swinging her in a circle.

  “Why Nicholas!” she laughed as he put her down. “Child, how wonderful to have you home. I am looking forward to hearing of your time in France, and your mother has spoken of nothing but your return for the past few weeks.”

  “Lorna, I may not be ecstatic to be home, however I am more than pleased to see you. I trust all is well with you and the household?”

  “We have been well, although why your mother is so insistent upon returning to polite society, I shall never know, as she has been quite content these past few months. However, truly it is not my place to say, and that is the way of her, to do what is expected, as you well know.”

  “Very well I do,” he replied. “You received my note to spare no expense in outfitting her in a wardrobe fit for a queen? I would like all of the ton to be envious of her in her return.”

  “I have gone above and beyond, Your Grace.”

  “Lorna, you know better than to ‘Your Grace’ me in private. Now, tell me, who has arrived?”

  She provided him the names and stations as they continued down the hall leading to his mother’s private sitting room. Lorna entered first, announcing to the dowager duchess that she had brought a visitor to greet her before the party began.

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, Nicholas!”

  Nicholas all but ran into the room to see his mother. She was a tender soul, and had always showered him with love and affection. In part, it was her nature to do so, and he also felt she did so to make up for the lack of attention he received from his father, her husband. She had left the disciplining to Lorna and his governesses, and he was not that old before he felt their roles had turned and he was responsible for her.

  He had done his best to protect her from gossip and rumors of society, but he knew some of their insults got through to her and she felt them deeply. She had been raised to care about the words of others, and he wished he could take it all away and make her feel loved and accepted.