“That is very good of you, Thomas. Perhaps you would care to call me Aunt Clarice?”
“I should be delighted.” He bowed again, beginning to feel a little foolish with all the bobbing up and down, but at least he could now turn to Louisa.
“I should like you to call me Louisa,” she said in that softly musical voice, smiling at him.
“I am so happy to meet you both at last,” he said truthfully, staring at Louisa. She blushed prettily under his scrutiny and followed her mother’s lead in seating herself; the countess gestured to a chair and Thomas sat down too, feeling gauche and awkward beside their cultured, studied grace.
He really needed to stop staring, but Louisa was beyond beautiful, she was glorious, with thick golden curls framing a pale, finely-boned face, soft red lips and deep blue eyes giving her an almost doll-like prettiness. She was no cold porcelain figurine, though, not with that lush figure that looked as though it had been poured into a lavender silk gown, a band of lace at the neckline the only thing retaining her modesty.
If dresses like that were London fashion, then Thomas was all for it. He tried to remember Louisa’s age; his uncle’s letters had been brief and sporadic at best, and had stopped entirely after Gramps died five years ago. Surely she was old enough to be out in society, though. He wondered why she wasn’t married; but perhaps she had been just due to start a London Season when her father died. Recalled to his duty, he said;
“I must offer my most sincere condolences for the loss of the Earl and Lord Oliver. I was deeply grieved to hear of their deaths; I hope you will believe that I was perfectly content in my life in America and never for a moment coveted the earldom.”
The countess inclined her head. “Thank you, Thomas. That is kind of you to say. You look very much like a Havers, I must say; Allsopp said that you saw the Long Gallery?”
“Yes, Aunt Clarice, I did, and I do hope that you or my cousin will have time to tell me who all those handsome fellows and beautiful ladies were, one day soon.”
They both smiled at that. “You will have to have your own likeness taken,” Louisa said.
“I suppose so.” It hadn’t occurred to him.
“Sir Thomas Lawrence is a very fine painter; he recently competed a portrait of Louisa which hangs now in the music room,” the countess offered. “Perhaps you could commission him to take your likeness.”
“Perhaps, but after painting Louisa, surely all the rest of us mere mortals must look as ugly as mules to his eyes,” Thomas said.
Louisa blushed again and looked down at her lap. Busy staring at her, Thomas didn’t notice the countess’s satisfied smile.
Chapter Two
*
“I believe I have some news that may be of interest to you, my dear,” Mr Bledsloe announced at dinner, two evenings after Ellen had seen the stranger riding along the lane.
“Well, do not keep us in suspense!” Demelza cried, setting down her fork. “Tell us all, Mr Bledsloe, and quickly, if you please!” She smiled at Ellen, inviting her to rejoice in the juicy gossip which was no doubt about to be imparted. Ellen smiled weakly in reply, not wishing to offend, but Mama had abhorred gossip. As a parson’s wife, she came by a goodly amount of secrets, but she had always said that words had the power to be harmful.
“Sticks and stones may indeed break your bones, but words most certainly do have the power to hurt as well,” Mama had told Ellen. “People trust me with their secrets, and I will not betray that trust.”
Mr Bledsloe paused importantly, and then declared “The Earl of Havers has arrived at Haverford Hall.”
Ellen relaxed; that was surely not a secret that could hurt anyone. The whole village had been on tenterhooks for months, wondering when or even if the American cousin would come to claim his title. As eager as Demelza for information, she hushed her friend, who was squealing with excitement and fanning herself.
“When did he arrive, Mr Bledsloe? Have you seen him?”
“Apparently, he came to the Hall the day before yesterday. The butcher’s apprentice is walking out with one of the downstairs maids at the Hall and he saw her on her half-day yesterday; she said that the Hall’s servants are all abuzz about it.”
“Oh,” Ellen said, surprised, “I think I saw him, perhaps, riding along the lane. He asked directions to Haverford Hall.”
“Then you spoke to him, not saw him, you silly clunch! Was he handsome?” Demelza leaned forward eagerly.
Ellen blushed, thinking that she had indeed been struck by the good looks of the man who had asked her for directions. “I am sure I could not say,” she said demurely. “I only saw him briefly, riding his horse. He spoke to me over the garden hedge. I do not even know if it was the Earl; it might have been a servant, perhaps, who came with him. He was riding an old hack of a horse, and his coat did not look as expensive as those that the old Earl or Lord Oliver used to wear.”
“I shall go up to the Hall and seek an audience with him tomorrow,” Mr Bledsloe said importantly. “I have some papers the old Earl entrusted to me. I shall mention you to him then, Ellen.”
She said nothing, just quietly carried on eating her dinner. She was nothing to the new Earl; a distant, penniless cousin. He was obliged to do nothing at all for her, and considering the attitude of every member of the aristocracy she had ever met, was likely to consider her no more importance than the dirt on his shoe… that is, of absolutely no importance and to be scraped off at the earliest opportunity.
Once Mr Bledsloe had confirmed that the Earl had no interest in her, she would begin tomorrow to look more seriously for paid work. She would ask Mr Bledsloe for his newspapers and begin writing letters applying for situations as a governess or companion. It was time to earn her keep.
*
Eating his breakfast and managing to miss his mouth with his fork more often than not because he couldn’t stop gazing at Lady Louisa, demurely nibbling on a buttered scone, Thomas was startled when the butler announced that he had a visitor.
“Who is it?” Thomas asked, discarding his napkin and rising, almost relieved for an excuse to stop making a fool of himself. He’d already smeared jam over his chin twice.
“The local solicitor, Mr Bledsloe,” Allsopp intoned formally.
“He can have no business with you, Thomas dear,” the countess said. “My husband conducted all his legal matters through our London solicitors, of course. Send him away, Allsopp.”
“No, I’ll see him, Aunt Clarice. He is a neighbour, after all.”
Lady Havers blinked at him, apparently quite bemused. “I do not know how things are done in America, Thomas, but here neighbours are other members of the gentry, not solicitors.”
The scorn in her voice made Thomas blink. Gently, he said “In America, neighbours are the folks who live close by and who we see regularly, ma’am. No matter what their station in life.” Turning away, he said “Lead the way, Allsopp. To… uh…” He hadn’t the faintest idea where one received visitors of any rank at all.
“The study, my lord.” Allsopp actually cracked a little smile. “This way, if you please.”
“I actually think I can find the study,” Thomas said cheerfully to Allsopp as they left the small dining room where he’d leaned the family customarily ate breakfast. “It’s down that corridor and just past the really short suit of armour, right?”
“Correct, my lord.” Allsopp didn’t smile again, but Thomas was sure the butler was beginning to unbend. He’d get a chuckle from the man yet.
“And Mr Bledsloe, what can you tell me about him?”
“He is very well-respected in the local area, my lord.” Allsopp paused before saying “Far be it from me to contradict the Countess, but Mr Bledsloe and the Earl met often. The Earl was also the local magistrate, you see. And the Bledsloe house is just past the end of the southern avenue approaching the Hall.”
“Then he is a neighbour,” Thomas said triumphantly. “Very good, Allsopp. Would it be appropriate to have coffee sent in?
”
“Certainly, my lord. I shall have it brought in shortly.”
“Thank you.” Thomas smiled as Allsopp looked faintly startled; the servants were definitely not used to being thanked, but Thomas had no intention of changing his habits of courtesy now that he happened to have a title tacked onto his name. Opening the study door, he entered the room with a ready smile.
“Mr Bledsloe! I am delighted to meet you, sir.”
The solicitor was a stout man in early middle age, his hair thinning. He jumped to his feet as Thomas entered, his expression quite shocked at Thomas’ friendly greeting. Bowing, he stuttered “Uh, very good of you, my lord, very good indeed. I’m honoured that you’d see me.”
“Nonsense, we’re neighbours, and please call me Havers,” Thomas said affably. He was trying for a charm offensive; if he could catch the man by surprise at the beginning of their acquaintance, perhaps he could convince him that all the bowing and scraping really wasn’t necessary.
“Uh, yes, my l-Havers,” Bledsloe said, his eyes wide and a little shocked. “Honoured.” He accepted Thomas’s offered hand and shook.
“Good, that’s settled. Do sit down.” Instead of rounding the huge desk and sitting imposingly behind it, Thomas caught up another chair and sat down near Bledsloe. “It’s very good of you to call. I’m delighted to start meeting my new neighbours.”
“Neighbours? Why, yes… I suppose we are.”
“Allsopp tells me that you live at the end of the southern avenue, which must surely make you one of our closest neighbours, since the northern approach is three times as long, I’m told.”
“Not quite at the end, my l-Havers. A little further along the road towards Colesbourne. In fact, I believe you may have spoken to a young lady in my garden the day you arrived, asking directions?”
“The girl in the grey bonnet! A relative of yours?” Thomas nodded, remembering the girl and her smile, the friendly way she had spoken to him.
“A friend of my wife, actually; she is staying with us for a while, since the loss of her parents. They both passed in the same tragic manner as your uncle and cousin. For which losses, please allow me to extend my condolences.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said with a nod. “That must have been difficult, for a young girl to lose her parents both at the same time. I suffered the same loss, but I was not old enough to remember their passing; my grandfather raised me.”
“That would be Lord Matthew?”
“That’s right. He raised me on tales of Haverford,” Thomas smiled, looking around. “I’m afraid the images my imagination produced did not do it justice, though.”
“Indeed.” Mr Bledsloe paused, and then said “Did Lord Matthew ever speak of his sister?”
“Lady Eleanor? Frequently! I think he missed her most of all when he emigrated. They wrote letters until her death, I believe, but that was before I was born. In fact, perhaps you can tell me—I know she married, but did she have children? I have not yet had the chance to ask my aunt about other living relatives I may have, indeed I am just getting used to having any!”
“Quite understandable, my lord. And yes, Lady Eleanor did have a daughter. In fact, if I may?” Bledsloe gestured to a bookshelf behind the desk, and Thomas nodded, watching curiously as the man stood and pulled down a large, old-looking book richly bound in gold-embossed leather.
“This is the Havers family bible. The fourth Earl, that was the previous Earl’s father, of course, and your grandfather’s older brother, kept it updated until his death not quite twenty years ago.”
Thomas nodded in understanding as Bledsloe laid the book on the desk and carefully opened it to the back pages, showing a family tree written out in several different hands.
“Ah, this will be useful when I am trying to keep straight who is who in the portraits in the Long Gallery,” Thomas murmured thoughtfully, leaning forward to look.
“Here, you see,” Bledsloe pointed. “The fourth Earl and his siblings, Matthew and Eleanor.”
A line led down from Matthew to Ellis (b. 1767, m. 1789, d.1792). Written beneath his name was Julia Henry, (d.1792) and another line led down from there to Thomas (b. 1790).
“You can, of course, write 6th Earl Havers in beside your name now,” Bledsloe said.
“Perhaps another day.” Everything in Thomas rebelled against that, right now. Maybe he’d leave it to a descendant who didn’t feel like a complete impostor. He looked across the family tree and realised that he would also have to write in the dates of death for Michael and Oliver.
No, he wasn’t not ready to deal with that right now either. He moved his finger back to Eleanor’s name, and down from there.
“She had two daughters… oh, one died young, how sad.” Five years old, Miss Sarah Ripley had been. Looking at the dates, he realised that must have been the same year Gramps had left for America. Had little Sarah died before or after his departure? What a terrible year that must have been for Eleanor.
“Yes, but Miss Laura survived to adulthood. She married a Bristol merchant, and they had a daughter, Susan. On a visit to her relatives here in Haverford, Miss Susan fell in love with the local curate and they married. Following the wedding, the fourth Earl bestowed the living on Mr Bentley, so that his relative Susan should be sure of a comfortable life.”
Thomas listened with interest as Bledsloe told him about the family he had never known. Following the line written in a spidery hand in the back of the old bible, he came to Ellen (b. 1798). The same year as Louisa on the other branch of the family tree, he noted.
“Did the fifth Earl keep the family tree updated?” he asked.
“He wrote in your grandfather’s date of death, so I assume so. So far as I know, there were no other records that required noting during his stewardship of the title.”
“So Ellen is still alive?”
“Ellen is the young lady I told you about, Havers. Susan Bentley was her mother.”
Thomas fairly gaped at him, eyes flying back to the family tree. In all the myriad branches, so far as he could see, there were only three Havers descendants living; himself, Louisa, and Ellen. “Why is she staying with your wife, then, and not here with her family?” he demanded indignantly.
Bledsloe hesitated, and then said delicately “While the fourth earl considered Lady Eleanor’s descendants to be family and bestowed the living on Mr Bentley to ensure that Miss Susan should be taken care of, the fifth earl did not.”
Thomas sat back and looked at the other man. “You’re saying that the previous earl—hang it, I’m just going to call him my uncle—did not acknowledge Susan and Ellen Bentley as relations?”
“May I speak frankly?”
“Please do, because I have the feeling that I’m missing something here. From what I see here, we hardly have any family.” Thomas waved his hand over the book. “Why would my uncle not acknowledge the perfectly respectable wife of a clergyman and her daughter?”
“Because your uncle was a penny-pinching man who never did a thing unless he thought it benefited him.” Bledsloe looked half-defiant, half-afraid as he said the words.
A knock on the door interrupted them, a maid bringing in a tray with a steaming pot of coffee. Thomas poured a cup for Bledsloe and one for himself, grateful for the interruption since it gave him time to gather his thoughts.
“What provision was made for Ellen when her parents died?” Thomas asked.
“She inherited savings of some one hundred and seventy pounds,” Bledsloe said. “Though her grandfather was quite a successful merchant in Bristol, he married again after his first wife died and had two sons, who inherited his wealth. The living was awarded to another man; signing those papers was one of your uncle’s last acts, as it happens.” Bledsloe looked down, bit his lip. “Ellen intends to seek a position as a governess, or companion. We asked her to stay on with us at least until your arrival; she has been helping my wife with the children. While we cannot afford to pay her a proper wage, she eats with the family
and Demelza treats her like a sister.”
Like an unpaid governess, you mean, Thomas thought a little unkindly, but he suspected that Bledsloe’s guilt over the matter was the reason why the solicitor had approached him now.
“It seems entirely unfair that my cousin should be forced to make a living for herself in this way,” he said aloud. “She is twenty, by the date here?”
“Indeed.”
“Should she like to marry? If there is a suitor in the wings for her, I would happily provide a dowry?”
“The only suitor who has ever asked for her is the new parson,” Bledsloe said. “He seemed to think that she should be grateful for an opportunity to stay in her old home, though it meant she would also have to be his unpaid housekeeper and warm his bed. Since he is some five and fifty years old, however, I advised Ellen against it. She did seriously consider it, though. She does not wish to be a burden upon anyone.”
“I am already thinking that I do not like the new parson,” Thomas said after a moment of stunned silence. “What is his name?”
“Mr Brownlee. He has already found another wife, a daughter of one of your tenant farmers who was quite happy to accept his offer.”
Shaking his head, Thomas considered his options. The easiest thing to do would be to settle some money on Ellen, but then what? Where would she live? She would need to find a companion of her own, to lend her countenance. Would she even want that, or accept the money?
“I believe that I should like to meet Ellen,” he said finally, after taking a long sip of his coffee. “We spoke only briefly when she gave me directions to the Hall, but she seemed quite charming. She is my cousin no less than Lady Louisa, and I should like to know her.”
“Very good, Havers.” Bled sloe gave him an approving nod. “When would be convenient for you?”
“No time like the present, Gramps always used to say. May I walk back with you?”
An Earl For Ellen (Blushing Brides Book 1) Page 2