by Fanny Walsh
“Mary is strong,” he said. “We will get to see the miracle to whom she gives birth very soon.”
“I cannot wait,” Beatrice said, clasping her hands at her breast. Her cousins nodded but said nothing.
There was little other conversation between the group, but despite the silence between them, Duncan was grateful for the company. It was driving him mad to be unable to help his own wife through the delivery of their first child.
Duncan flinched each time Mary cried out, longing to be there beside her to comfort and support her. He prayed desperately for a smooth delivery, and for both Mary and the baby to pull through, happy and healthy.
Duncan got his wish. A few hours later, hours that felt like an eternity, the midwife beckoned him into the bedroom. There Mary sat, cradling a thickly swaddled bundle in her arms. Duncan thought she had never looked more radiant than she did just then.
“Would you like to hold your daughter?” Mary asked, tears of joy streaming down her face.
Duncan nodded, tears beginning to fill his own eyes. A daughter, he thought. He approached the bed slowly, everything feeling completely surreal and foreign.
Mary shifted in the bed and lifted the bundle toward him. With trembling hands, he took his daughter from his wife’s arms.
“Are you alright?” Duncan asked Mary, immediately feeling foolish for the question.
“I am fine,” Mary said, giving Duncan a weak, exhausted smile. Duncan leaned down and gave Mary a gentle kiss on her damp forehead.
“Rest now, my darling,” Duncan said. “There are a few other people who are anxious to meet this sweet little angel.”
Duncan looked into the face of his daughter for the very first time. It was a little early to tell, but he thought that she strongly resembled Mary. However, he noticed that she seemed to have his mother’s eyes and cheekbones. Duncan stared for a long moment into his daughter’s blue-gray eyes, unable to speak.
“What shall we name her?” Duncan asked when he found his voice.
“I think we should name her Rose, after your mother,” Mary said.
Duncan started at the name. He had not heard anyone speak his mother’s name in years, not even his own father.
“Darling, are you sure?” he asked at last.
“She is as beautiful as a rose, just as I am sure your mother was,” Mary said. “She deserves a name that is just as beautiful.”
The tears that had threatened to spill as Mary gave birth overflowed and spilled down Duncan’s cheeks.
“Rose it is, then,” Duncan said. He gave his daughter a gentle kiss. The baby flailed her arms and grabbed Duncan’s nose momentarily. He laughed.
“Mary, my darling. I love you,” he said, overwhelmed with emotion.
“And I love you, Duncan,” Mary said sleepily.
Duncan kissed Mary on the head again, and then gently placed his daughter into the cradle beside Mary. He stared in wonder at the beautiful child, thanking God that he was fortunate enough to at last have a family of his own.
Joy filled his heart as he looked down at his daughter, who was drifting peacefully off to sleep.
The Extended Epilogue
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A White Rose for the Marquess – Preview
Chapter 1
For Gwendoline, this was an all too familiar scene.
As she sat in the carriage, with the spell of silence thick in the air save for the noise of the wheels, she could not help being taken back to that afternoon, four years ago.
Like that day, a new phase in her life would begin today.
Whatever the next four months brought, a husband or not, she knew that if she had to return to Gelling, she would not be the same woman.
How she knew this remained a mystery to her. Yet, she was as certain as she was of the fact that it would rain tonight. She felt it in her bones, in her heart and in her mind.
Unlike that carriage ride four years ago, she was not alone with her aunt – her uncle and cousin were there with them.
The curtains had been opened the moment they entered the streets of London, so Gwen took advantage of the opportunity and busied herself with the life outside.
She could not believe that she had never been to London. Twenty years old, and this was her first time in the renowned city. Her first time joining the Season too.
To be a debutante at twenty was quite unusual. Many would consider her old, but Gwendoline did not mind, not so much.
It did not matter that she had been given Fiona’s clothes from her first season, which were now out of fashion. Thankfully, they were the right size, as at twenty, Gwendoline had finally grown into the woman Fiona had been at seventeen.
Her cousin was now even taller. She was the primrose of Gelling. Those who knew Gwendoline, called her the daisy.
Pure, lovely, peaceful. Gwendoline believed it suited her perfectly.
It did not matter that Aunt Leah had made it starkly clear where Gwendoline’s place was in the coming season. It did not matter that she barely had any jewelry to her name, compared to the dozens that decorated Fiona’s chest…
Gwendoline was simply grateful that she had finally been given a chance to enter society, and find a suitor for herself. She finally had not been left alone in Gelling with the staff, like she had been left alone for the last three seasons.
She looked up at Fiona who seemed interested in the book she was reading. She had barely lifted her head to look out the window all through the journey.
Of course, there was nothing new to this, where Fiona was concerned. Unlike Gwendoline, this was Fiona’s fourth season. Sadly, like Gwendoline, Fiona was still unmarried - much to her mother’s great displeasure.
Fiona herself seemed unconcerned by it. When she returned from London, she was always more than happy to tell Gwendoline sweet tales about all that had happened during the season.
The men who had tried to woo her, the scandals, the gossip, the balls, the soirees and the elegance that they all brought. She had often said life here in London was different.
Gwendoline could see it already. The streets were much busier. There was barely any expanse of land or field for greenery. Every space that was big enough had been put to use to contain buildings - houses, firms, shops.
“It is quite a sight, isn’t it?” her uncle spoke, breaking the spell.
Gwendoline looked away from the window then, relaxing into her seat.
“Yes, Uncle. That, it is. Fiona has told me tales, but my imagination never conjured anything quite like this. How do you survive here for four months, after living in the quietness of the county for eight?”
Uncle Albert chuckled in that warm way of his. It made Gwendoline smile.
“Dear child, you shall come to understand after spending a few weeks in the city. Everything here is moving so fast.
”By the time you grow accustomed to it, upon your return to the country, all will seem awfully quiet and terribly slow. It will take you some time to settle into the countryside’s air too.”
&
nbsp; Intrigued by her uncle’s words, her eyes widened. “Really?”
It was Fiona who answered, finally taking time away from her book. Like always, she had a polite smile for Gwendoline.
“Really, Gwen. Why do you think I often look forward to the season? Life here… it’s different. And the balls? Magical! I am glad that you will get to see it all for yourself, this time.”
The relationship between Fiona and Gwendoline had grown from friendly and easy, to polite and mostly awkward in the past four years. There was no one else to blame for that other than Leah.
She had constantly told her daughter that Gwendoline was not the sister Fiona never had, and would never be. She had taken offence every time she had seen the girls playing together like old friends, and after a good number of scoldings, both girls had grown wary of each other.
Careful, seemed a more soothing word. Yes, they still talked and like Gwendoline had foreseen, she functioned as Fiona’s companion.
Yet, there were boundaries to their relationship, and they were often too careful to not cross those boundaries, lest they sparked Aunt Leah’s annoyance.
So, rather than grin and continue the chatter mindlessly, Gwendoline offered a polite smile in return and said a simple, “Thank you, Fiona.”
Aware of the situation herself, Fiona gave a curt nod and went back to her reading. Once more, silence reigned.
It was like that until they finally came to a stop in front of the Cartridges’ townhouse. Unlike the manor, this was no estate. Yet, the house was just as grand.
It also appeared to be of a more modern architecture, and it bore resemblance to all the other houses Gwendoline had observed on the way over.
One by one, they got out of the carriage and as they came to stand in front of the house, Uncle Albert announced. “Welcome to the townhouse, Gwendoline.”
Gwendoline dropped a shallow curtsy for the man who had kept to his word and loved her like a father. Aunt Leah had not been able to get him to stop, and not for lack of trying.
“Thank you, Uncle. It’s beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it? Wait until you see the inside.”
And with those words, he ushered them in.
They were all led to the dining room where they settled down to a generous spread of fruit, cakes, bread and stew for supper.
They had begun to eat when Aunt Leah finally addressed Gwendoline.
“So, you have finally come to London. How does it feel? Good?”
Gwendoline nodded, rushing to chew up the bread in her mouth, so that she would swallow.
She knew that this conversation would not end in a lovely manner. Aunt Leah had a way of leaving a bitter taste in Gwendoline’s mouth after every dialogue.
As the lump went down her throat, she answered. “It is a lovely place, Aunt Leah.”
“Of course it is. Not a place for orphans like yourself. Too expensive, if you ask me. You know how much a family has to spend during the season? With the balls and outings and plays and all those beautiful dresses! My goodness.
”We spend twice what we have to spend in the country, if not three times. Imagine adding another mouth to that, and a debutante at that! Lord knows I have tried for you. How many people would do what I have done for a child who isn’t theirs?”
Uncle Albert stopped eating, and placed a hand on his wife’s.
“Leah, this is unnecessary. Leave it be.”
His caution counted for nothing, but Gwendoline was grateful for it anyway. She always was.
Nevertheless, it did not stop Aunt Leah from completely disregarding her husband’s words.
“Oh please, Albert. The girl must be told the truth. We must make her face reality lest she begins to forget her place. She must know the sacrifices we make for her, in order to remain grateful.”
Gwendoline’s heart sank, hurting deeply. Yet, she did not look away when her aunt stared into her blue eyes.
“Your father left nothing but debts for you, you know.”
It was what she had always told Gwendoline, but Gwendoline did not believe it.
She knew her father had been wealthy. Generous too, yes, but too frugal and wise to die leaving his affairs in shambles.
And debts? What debts? Gwendoline never saw her father make many purchases, indulge in luxuries or lose in a hand of cards. He had been no drunkard, or a gambler.
Still, Gwendoline held her peace as her aunt ranted on, even as the fire inside of her came alive and began to simmer.
“My gracious husband managed to pay off all of that debt. And we have had to feed you from our pockets for the past four years. You know how much it cost to launch a child into society? Why else did you think we have waited this long?”
It was to give Fiona a better chance at finding a husband, everyone knew this. Aunt Leah was afraid that if Gwendoline was present at the season, men would go after Gwendoline, not Fiona.
In her aunt’s own words, Fiona was too tall for a woman. Men did not like a tall woman over whom they cannot exercise authority.
That was the way they saw women like Fiona. Stubborn, hard-headed and non-submissive.
Fiona was anything but those. That a mother would think so low of her child would have baffled Gwendoline, but this was Aunt Leah. She was capable of anything.
Aunt Leah continued. “It is because we needed to be certain we had enough money for two ladies. We are trying for you, Gwendoline. And you must show gratitude. Wear Fiona’s hand-me-downs with pride.
”And of course, one more thing you should do to show your gratitude, is to make yourself scarce. At the balls, at outings, at plays… I have said it before and I shall say it again. I do not want you getting the attention that Fiona should be getting.
”This is her fourth season and it would be a shame if she does not manage to secure a proposal before its end. Lord knows I do not understand why it has taken so long,” she muttered the last part under her breath, but everyone heard anyway.
Gwendoline felt Fiona wince by her side, but the girl said nothing.
“This season is for Fiona, Gwendoline. She is twenty years old and not getting any younger. If anything, you should support her, help her shine and attend to her every need so she does not have to worry about a thing other than being beautiful and staying happy.
”In fact, I would like you to start by helping her settle into her chambers. It is the least you can do now, is it not?”
Bowing her head, Gwendoline kept her voice as demure as possible. “Yes, Aunty.”
“Very well. Supper may continue now that all is clear and understood.”
And just like that, everyone went back to eating.
Still, the atmosphere in the room, the tenseness that hung in the air, spoke of what had just happened.
Gwendoline would lie if she said that she was not hurt. From the insult to her parents, to being dismissed as though she was worth no more than a rag. Yes, indeed, she was crushed to the bones.
Nevertheless, years of being told those same words over and over again, had given her a tough skin.
Her eyes did not well with tears. She did not feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and regret. She did not suddenly remember the love her parents had showered her with.
Instead, she had smiled sadly, brushed the hurt aside and managed to eat better than her uncle and cousin.
As the maids cleared the plates, they all rose up. She caught her uncle’s eye as they did and she saw the apology in them.
She shook her head, telling him that he did not have to apologize. It was not his sin. He had done nothing but love her.
He gave a curt nod and the brief, quiet communication ended. Wordlessly, she followed Fiona to her chambers. Later, when she was done helping Fiona settle in for the night, she would find hers.
When they entered Fiona’s chamber, Gwendoline was not surprised by its sheer beauty and luxury. Like Fiona’s chamber in the country house, this was fit for a princess.
Gwendoline knew her chamber wo
uld be anything but, and she was fine with that. A good bed and space of her own had become everything and more than Gwendoline needed in the past years.
In the room, Gwendoline helped Fiona undress.
“You do not have to do this, you know,” Fiona said. “I know you are very tired. One of the maids can attend to me. It is why they are here.”
