*******
Richard, Blackmore, and John Rodgers sat on an upstairs porch overlooking green fields as far as the eye could see. A beautiful dark-skinned woman brought a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars to them. She left everything on the table and quietly went inside the grand house.
The early evening air smelled of fragrant plants, and the setting sun cast a fine glow everywhere one looked.
“John, this is absolutely paradise. It really never gets cold here? I saw fireplaces in the house. Tell me, is it true?” Richard took a cigar and smelled it as if it was the finest perfume.
“For the most part, it is, my friend. Certainly, the weather is nothing like our homeland. Blackmore, what say you about our mild Georgia weather?”
Blackmore smiled and shook his head.
“Come now, Blackmore.” Richard sensed his former butler’s discomfiture. “We three are on equal footing here, in America. The class system is not written in stone. There is no monarchy. The people rule. It is called a democracy. And as such, there is no servant class. Not as we know it.”
“Yes, Sir. I don’t know that I’ll ever completely lose the identity of a butler.”
“Oh trust me, Blackmore, you’ll lose it quick enough when you’re sitting on your own veranda, entertaining friends in the dusk of a springtime evening. It feels good to be the king of your own castle. And here, in this new country, we have that opportunity.” Rodgers grinned.
“And now that we have that out of the way, you saw something that interested you today, did you not, Blackmore?” Richard sat back and puffed as he lit the cigar he’d chosen.
“Yes. You might know the place, Rodgers. It’s about eight miles down the road. A lovely house. There is a porch like this all around the top floor. It’s white. Large. I felt I knew it when I saw it. When I went up to the porch to enquire about it, I was told the master had just passed away. The widow is planning on taking her children to South Carolina after she sells the place.”
“Ah, yes. That’s the McDonnell plantation. I’d be happy to speak to Mrs McDonnell on your behalf, Blackmore. Are you serious in your consideration of the place?”
“That I am, Mr Rodgers.”
“Just Rodgers, Blackmore. Call me Rodgers. What say you, Warren? We need to convince our Blackmore here that he is soon to become a plantation owner. Oh, and I hear the overseer is very good. You might want to meet him and look to keep him on.”
“Very good. I would like to make an offer to the lady as soon as possible. I should like to sail back to get my Camille.”
“It would be faster if Camille were to come here straightaway, Blackmore.” Richard puffed on the cigar. “She can get a ticket for the passenger ship of a mutual friend of mine and Rodgers. She would be protected and also in the company of other young ladies pursuing the same endeavour. They will all be coming to America to be reunited with their sweethearts.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Richard.” Blackmore smiled.
“I can’t take credit for it as much as I’d like to.” Richard smiled. “It just happens to be the way things are done in this sort of situation. Just think, you can buy the McDonnell place and move in to get it ready. By the time Camille gets here in about three months, everything will be ready for her to begin her new life as a grand lady.”
“That is definitely the best way to do it.” Rodgers nodded his head vigorously. “That is how my Sophie came to me. She had not one problem on the journey. Our sailor friend, O’Malley, took most wonderful care of my lovely wife.”
Blackmore and Rodgers continued their talk of sailing ships, tides, and travel times. Richard looked out across the fields. It was so peaceful here in this land of plenty where it never got cold and where everyone smiled and were welcoming. There were no vicious stories passed around about anyone. It was quite different than what Richard had hated about London.
If he’d had any misgivings or questions about coming to America, they had been put to rest. He could see himself growing old in a place such as this.
While he was happy that Blackmore had found the plantation he wanted to buy, house and all, Richard intended to build. As it was, he’d had the invitation from Rodgers and his lovely wife to stay with them through the summer and as long as he needed. But he had his eye on a piece of land.
His hand unconsciously went to his waistcoat pocket. He traced the outline of the locket he still kept with him at all times. It had been a year since he and Blackmore had left London.
Richard glanced at his two friends, so deep in conversation. He smiled to himself. It was time to implement the next part of his plan. It was time for him to purchase the largest site for a plantation he’d seen. It was three miles from where he sat. He intended to build a grand house. And he intended to name it Warren Hall.
*******
Mimi had to go into London to have a few frocks fitted. Generally her favourite seamstress sent her own daughter round to Temple Abbey to try everything on Mimi. But the girl had married about a year earlier and was very heavy with child. She was expected to go into labour at any time, so was advised by her doctor to stay home.
Neither of Mrs Limonseaux’s two apprentices was proficient enough to fit Mimi without supervision. As it was, Mimi had jumped at the chance to have a break from the monotony of life in the country even if it was only for an appointment at a frock shop.
“Jones, you’ll escort me into London, will you not? I have my appointment today.” Mimi was reading the papers that the stable boy had gone into town to fetch for her. She set the issue she was perusing down and looked towards her butler.
“Yes, of course, Miss Mimi. What time would you like the carriage?”
“Let us say thirty minutes. We will have dinner in London and be back here before supper.”
“I shall alert young Bobby, he’s one of the two grooms His Grace sent to us.”
“Yes, yes. Fine. You do that. Thank you, Jones.”
“Very good, Miss.”
“Mimi? Where are you, mon ange?”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Here, Maman.”
Marie bustled into the dining room. “I am going riding.” She pulled on her gloves and fastened the tiny buttons that joined at the wrist. “What are your plans for today?”
“Why, I’m going into London for my dress fitting.”
“London? No, you mustn’t. Where is Mrs Limonseaux? Where is her daughter? Doesn’t she usually come?” Marie frowned, her delicate eyebrows coming together in a little point above her black eyes.
“If I am to have the new frocks for the upcoming neighbourhood soirees, I must keep the appointment. Justine cannot come due to her condition.”
“Oh, very well. But don’t go wandering around, shopping and the like. You know His Grace prefers you to stay here, on the estate. If he were to find out you went into London without his permission, he would be angry, mon petit chou.”
“I have had a note from him. He is to come to visit three days hence. I’ll be home before supper tonight, Maman.”
“You’d be wise to take a hamper in the carriage. I won’t have you seen dining in public. Do you understand me, Mimi? No use tempting fate.”
“Oui, Maman.” Once again, Mimi rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been getting along with Marie since before the Duke had officially asked for her hand in marriage. It seemed that everything and anything Marie said or did annoyed her daughter these days. And it was fuel for Mimi’s anger towards Marie.
She squirreled away every tiny resentment, every unspoken harsh word, each knowing glance between the Duke and Marie. They would feed her on her journey away from this false life.
“Giselle, come help me dress.” Mimi reached into the back of the clothes press and pulled out the chemise and frock with the coins sewn within. She wore the ensemble along with a shawl and the bonnet whenever she left the estate.
*******
Camille had received her final letter from Blackmore. In the midst of all the letters her husband had writ
ten to her, this was the one she’d longed for more than any other.
She had received the fare from her husband to book passage on a ship that would be leaving London for America. A quick look at the enclosed schedule told Camille that the ship was in port and would be leaving with the morning tide. She didn’t have a lot of time. She must pack quickly and lightly. If she missed the ship, it would be another month before the opportunity would present itself again. And it wouldn’t be the same captain who was her husband’s acquaintance. It could cause unforeseen problems. And besides, she wanted to get to America as soon as she possibly could. She placed her hands on her growing belly.
Camille had two new frocks that would accommodate her expanding waistline waiting at Mrs Limonseaux’s dress shop. If she hurried, she would have just enough time to pick up the frocks and get back to Jermyn Street to pack the few things she would be taking along on the journey. Then she could partake of a few hours of sleep.
She hurried out to the mews and spoke quietly to the stable boy and the groom. Within twenty minutes, she was headed to Bond Street.
The carriage pulled up, and the young groom assisted her down to the street. She went inside and took a seat to wait for someone to help her. It was busy. There were many ladies in for fittings and drapings. Thankfully, Camille had only a package to pick up.
She could have had one of the other servants pick it up, but her nerves were in such a state that she needed the distraction.
She sat near the window, gazing out to the street and trying to imagine America so far across the ocean. Her husband said it never got cold there. She smiled to herself. Maybe she would not need the pelisse she planned to pack. But there was still the voyage. Camille was sure the coat would come in handy on the ocean passage.
Chapter 18
“I heartily wish I could have had dinner at one of the hotels in the city,” Mimi complained to no one in particular. She knew that Jones and the groom, Bobby, both being outside the carriage and on the box above, could not hear her.
She opened the hamper that Cook had packed for her. She wrinkled her nose wondering why she was surprised that everything was at a temperature that was not hot or cold. She decided she would eat on the way back to Temple Abbey. She sat back and looked out the window at the people going to and fro on the street.
Once at Mrs Limonseaux’s, she would be ushered to a back room for her fitting. There would be tea, lemonade, ratafia, and little cakes. It was a wholly different experience to when she was merely Miss Hancock. Now, she was a lady of leisure and wealth, soon to be a Duchess.
The seamstresses who worked in the shop did not know her. She’d always dealt directly with Mrs Limonseaux or Justine. The Duke paid for everything, and in spite of his self-centred and egotistical ways, he was quite generous. He never asked her to see the bills or accounts from Temple Abbey. Money did not seem to concern him. That was the part of her life that was fun. Mimi could order anything from anywhere and spend whatever she wanted on frocks, riding habits, pelisses, slippers, and bonnets. Usually, Giselle did the picking up of packages or ran any errands that involved obtaining items a lady needed for her everyday toilette.
Mimi took care to stay back against the carriage seat as best she could. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her. Word could never get back to the Duke that she’d left the estate and come into London.
However, there was no one in London with such a balanced, graceful and statuesque frame. Mimi was easily recognised. When she occasionally walked out and about, people looked at one another with raised eyebrows and smiled as if to say, “There she is. Duke Hertford’s fiancée. What an example of marrying up.”
Bobby pulled the carriage to the side door of the dress making establishment. Jones assisted Mimi down to the walkway, and she was immediately guided inside and to a lovely, small, fitting room on the second floor. In her distraction at staying relatively hidden, she was unaware of the woman sitting nearby who gasped softly as Mimi passed by her.
*******
Camille sat quietly on the sofa in the shop’s little alcove at the side, towards the back of the room. She sipped tea as she waited. This was, indeed, a fancy shop. She’d never been here before, but Lavinia Warren had gifted her the pelisse she’d seen in the window two weeks earlier.
She’d been out with Lavinia, assisting her in running errands since work at the house on Jermyn Street had been sporadic ever since Richard and Blackmore left for America.
It had been about six months since she’d seen her husband, but she had received regular correspondence from him. He’d been able to purchase a plantation he’d had his eye on, courtesy of a loan from Richard Warren.
Blackmore had been back to London to see her just once. Then he had gone back to his plantation to make sure everything would be ready for his wife’s arrival.
Lavinia had also gotten a letter. It was from her dear Richard. She had been quite happy to fill in all the details of his journey and adventures whether Camille wanted to hear them or not.
As these thoughts went through her head, she wondered if she should try and speak to Mimi. For she was sure it was Mimi who had passed by her, head down, face shielded by the sides of her bonnet.
Camille smirked and chuckled to herself. It was obvious to her that Mimi had tried not to be noticed. She’d even come in the side door.
If Mimi was hiding, there was a reason for it. Camille reckoned she knew the reason. Mimi was the Duke of Hertford’s fiancée. He was said to be a possessive, manipulative man. It was no secret in London that he was not easy to please. And he liked people to be at his beck and call. Camille could only imagine what he expected from his fiancée.
Mimi had nice, expensive things. Muslin or silk frocks, bonnets with velvet ribbons, satin slippers, Indian shawls, silk stockings, and all manner of fine, gossamer undergarments, hand fans and every kind of small reticule for carrying her personal belongings. But she paid the hefty price of her independence for them.
Camille wondered how she could approach her friend and former employer. She hadn’t seen Mimi in many months. She had not seen Mimi around London since Mimi and Marie had moved out to the country. Camille hadn’t been able to write as the house in Isleworth was off the beaten path. It was as if the Duke kept Mimi as a beautiful creature in a soft prison. Not even Bella had been invited to the country house. Camille had heard that only those with a title or a great deal of land were asked to Temple Abbey.
“Mrs Blackmore?” Camille was drawn away from her thoughts by the little shop girl who stood in front of her with a brown paper wrapped parcel.
“I’m terribly sorry for your wait, Ma’am. It is a very busy time for us here. Easter is just around the corner.”
“Oh. Yes. That’s fine.” Camille smiled. It was now or never if she was going to mention Mimi to the girl.
“Will that be all, Ma’am?” The girl stood waiting to be dismissed.
“Um, actually, I was … I was wondering who the lady in the lovely lavender frock is. The one you took upstairs to a fitting room as soon as she appeared?”
The girl giggled. “Oh, well, I’m not supposed to say, Ma’am.”
Camille opened her reticule and fished out a shilling. She casually handed it to the girl without anyone seeing.
The girl bit on the coin, dropped it in her apron pocket, and then offered, “The lady is the fiancée of Duke Hertford, Ma’am. She lives in the country, and this is the first time I have actually seen her.” She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Can you believe it’s said that the Duke never allows her to leave her home?”
“And do you know where the lady, um, where she lives? In the country?”
“It is an elegant house I’m told. Small yet everything in it is of the highest quality. It is called Temple Abbey in Isleworth.”
“So close as that? Why Isleworth is only about ten miles from here.”
“Yes, Ma’am. They say that the Duke likes to keep the lady close by so he can have a g
ame of whist or hear the pianoforte whenever he is desirous of it.”
“Well, young lady, I thank you for the information.” Camille’s mind was working quickly, formulating a plan. She had to speak to Mimi.
“Very good, Ma’am.”
“I will, however, suggest you keep rumours to yourself regardless of the money you are offered. Think if you would want talk of this nature spoken about you.”
The girl looked down nodding, and Camille knew she hadn’t gotten through to her. What young girl in her position would say no to a little extra coin when all she had to do was repeat what everyone was repeating anyway?
The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 20