Chapter 3. Grace In Affliction
Wellbrook Hall
The Earl and his children had greeted their neighbors and dinner guests in the front hall. Lady Juliana had given the scones to Edmund first and then she had fished the lengths of ribbon from her linen satchel for Lady Selina and Lady Madalene as the Earl led them temporarily into the sitting room to the left of the front doors. Selina mumbled her thanks and when Madalene saw her sister wasn’t very thankful for her gift, her lips clamped shut as if it would be an act of disloyalty to express any gratitude. Juliana ignored the display of ingratitude from the Earl’s daughters but took pleasure when she noticed Edmund was already devouring several of the scones. She handed the basket from cook to the Earl before she sat down beside the girls on the sofa facing the front windows.
“Thank you! I see Frances has been busy! Please give her our deepest regards for her thoughtfulness. She makes the best relish in all of Essex, but don’t tell our Mrs. Foster I said so!” This remark by the Earl in reference to Wellbrook Hall’s own first rate cook earned a few chuckles from everyone seated in the parlor. He nodded a smile of thanks toward Lady Juliana but addressed Lord Barrington as he glanced through the basket, picking up several of the jars for a closer look. He looked very pleased and after a moment, Bradley stepped forward to take the basket to a footman to have it delivered to the kitchen. There, he knew Mrs. Sarah Foster would be delighted to add the contents to the pantry.
Juliana looked at her Father, seated in the chair beside the Earl, who looked as if he’d swallowed a canary. He had noticed that the Earl seemed a little distant towards his daughter and wished that his expression of gratitude had been directed to her. Perhaps it was nothing… but he hoped he hadn’t made a mistake when he’d told that Oliver fellow to delay his offer of marriage until next spring. By then, he was hoping the Earl would have married his Juliana. He had a large tract of land bordering Bridesgate Park Estate to offer as a dowry. Furthermore, he’d already let the cat out of the bag over a dinner at White’s on James Street at the beginning of the Season when they’d arrived in London. Nathaniel Edwards had shown little reaction to the subject of the dowry or his daughter, other than a raised eyebrow at the time. He hoped this summer would prove invaluable and make strides towards the desired union.
As far as Lord Barrington could tell, Edwards seemed to be considering the matter. Edwards had danced with her on numerous occasions at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, escorted her twice to Vauxhall Gardens for an outdoor music concert and fireworks, and accompanied him and his daughter several times to the Drury Lane Theatre. He had also taken her by open carriage on three occasions through Hyde Park on Sunday at the fashionable hour to do so…and attended church with both of their families in tow --a number of times. They usually had dinner together once every few weeks. The problem was, the Earl had also escorted a Lady Caroline Sturbridge to a number of events and had not formally asked for a courtship with Juliana. Who was this Lady Caroline anyhow? He should have insisted upon the institution of a formal courtship but when he had broached the subject with his daughter, she had disliked the idea.
The Viscount replayed his daughter’s words in his mind from the talk they’d had in the parlor at their London townhouse on Henrietta Street: “Father, I realize you are partial to Lord Edwards but you know, I rather like Baron Oliver and haven’t decided between them which of the twain I like best. Some days, I think I prefer Nathaniel. I’ve known him nearly all of my life. Other days, I think I prefer Timothy, the Baron. Now if you tie me to a formal courtship, I’ll never be able to decide!” Unable to deny his daughter anything she wished for, he had remained as unobtrusive as possible, allowing the good Lord above to work his wonders where the romance and future of his daughter was concerned. Perhaps his mother and wife would stop cackling and pestering him about Juliana’s future. Now if only a suitable prospect for a wife would appear for Cole. His mother and wife pestered him about that situation almost as often as the other. What a quandary!
When dinner was over and the gentlemen had retired to the upstairs library, Ladies Selina and Madalene entertained Lady Juliana in the upstairs sitting room, where Juliana was glad indeed she had brought her stitching. Nurse Lottie came to fetch Madalene after about half an hour to ready her for bed. A yawning little girl pushing her blond locks out of her eyes was whisked down the hall to her bedroom. If only Juliana could draw Selina to converse in ladylike fashion about something! It seemed Selina was determined to sit in silence and stab her own needlework with vigor.
Across the hall, the gentlemen seemed to fare better and more amiably with each other than the ladies. The Earl did not partake in any alcoholic beverages and that was part of the reason Lord Barrington approved of the match. He didn’t offer port, brandy or whiskey to any of his guests, though Bradley was always on hand to offer coffee or tea. Lord Nathaniel Edwards (the Third) did however enjoy a friendly discussion about agriculture; the weather; politics; the war; ethics; theology as opposed to religion; matters of importance about the parish and hamlet; and upcoming local events. Edmund enjoyed being allowed to participate in these private, all male discourses.
“Have you heard any news from the front?” Barrington asked as Edwards opened the French doors to let in the fresh air and Bradley handed him a fresh cup of coffee made exactly the way he preferred it.
“Nothing,” Nathan replied, satisfied with the breeze coming through the windows and turning to sit down near the fireplace, “though we are all anxious for another letter from our footman, Walter. He is Wellbrook Hall’s contribution to the war and we pray continually for his safety and wellbeing.”
“Yes, I can imagine. When did the last letter arrive?” Lord Barrington asked.
“It was some months ago.” The Earl sat down in one of the chairs near the Viscount and accepted a cup of coffee from Bradley. Edmund pulled a chair up from his father’s desk and propped his elbows on his knees and his chin up in his hands as he leaned in to listen to every word.
“That long ago and no word since? Distressing!”
“Terribly so! But on another note, I’d like to invite your family to accompany us on holiday at the ocean in about a month or so… we’ve plans to stay for about a fortnight.”
“Splendid! We accept! I’m certain Juliana would be delighted and Cole should have returned from London by then to join us. Amber loves the seaside. Have you decided where exactly?”
“Not yet, but I’ve got some ideas in mind. I’d like to avoid Bath, Cheltenham and the popular overcrowded places to holiday.” The Earl sat back in his armchair. “I think it would be good for the children as well, especially our Selina.”
“Yes, it would be nice to have a private holiday. I’m weary of parties and the utter nonsense of the Ton.” The Viscount drank his coffee, thankful they were back in the countryside away from London. He’d feel much better when Cole returned home and thought to dispatch a letter first thing in the morning to insist upon that very thing.
The French Alps
The ladies fell silent as Lady Margaret pondered this declaration of loyalty from her daughter-in-law. It had been heartbreaking to lose her husband, but it had been nearly crippling to suffer the loss of her sons. No mother expects to bury her children and her own heart was broken. Most days, she thought it was broken beyond repair. Somehow though, the Lord had cradled and carried her through the aftermath. Samuel’s wife, Esther, had returned to her family a few months ago. She had expected Georgiana to do the same now that she was leaving France. It was simply amazing that this daughter-in-law wished to remain with her. It was an act of kindness no less. The good Lord had seen fit to leave her with one person to share her life with… one person who had deeply and truly loved her son Benjamin and her family and shared many good and wonderful memories.
“The Earl said he will dispatch escorts who will meet us in Paris when he receives your reply.
I assume he is married, or have I presumed incorrectly?” Georgiana asked later that evening at dinner. With one candle in a pewter candlestick holder for light, they sat at the large wooden table near the warmth of the hearth instead of in the upstairs formal dining room. “What is his wife like? Will she be a kind employer?”
Lady Margaret sipped her vegetable broth from the soup spoon silently with the excellent manners of any fine lady. “He is widowed, as we are. His wife died in childbirth some years ago.”
“He never remarried?” Georgiana asked gingerly as she spread a teaspoon of currant jelly on her bread.
Lady Margaret applied a small amount of butter to the green beans and early garden snap peas on her plate. “Not to my knowledge, though I’m certain he has been sought after. We are only distantly related. He is a first or second cousin on my deceased husband’s side of the family-- and a wealthy man. He holds a seat in the House of Lords, is well respected in Essex and among peers and colleagues. He corresponded with Papa over the years and knew my sons from school, holidays and many weeks in the summer spent together when we weren’t vacationing here in the Alps or some other part of Europe for Papa Duncan’s work. The Earl, Nathaniel is his first name but he is addressed as Edwards by most…and my sons, attended the same schools and university. Lord Edwards graduated a number of years before my sons did.” She paused to chew and swallow a bite of the buttered vegetables. “I can tell he is devastated to hear of their passing. Writing him about what happened was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. He used to be a frequent part of our lives many years ago --when we still lived in England and just vacationed here in the Alps-- when the boys were much younger.”
“I remember Benjamin mentioning him from time to time. Papa Duncan mentioned him too now and then. I’m certain it was hard for you to write the Earl with such news. I’ve had the worst time informing ma souer, mon oncle et mes amis.¹ It is hard to tell others how our husbands died, defending themselves from thieves and bandits!” Lady Georgiana’s chin tilted somewhat proudly and she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief.
Lady Margaret nodded. “We must make the most of every single day even though they are with the Lord now. We must not waste a single moment… we must continue on and find ways to be joyful. They would want us to be happy even in the midst of our suffering, just as the Lord found joy in going to the cross for us.”
For a moment, Lady Georgiana was lost remembering how her husband and his father and brother had died. From what they had been able to understand from the authorities, their coach had been surrounded by bandits in the dead of night. They had been en route to Paris where some of their work would have been displayed in an exhibit at the Musée du Louvre.² Papa Duncan had been fearless about his work and had survived many journeys throughout Austria, Italy, Switzerland and France.
Benjamin and Samuel had carefully packed into trunks sculptures and treasured vases and Papa, canvas paintings wrapped in layers of brown paper to display at the museum. The best they could piece together from the aftermath of that night was that bandits had overtaken the coach, murdered the driver and the men and absconded with the coach and contents.
A renowned artist in Europe, everyone had heard of the painter from England, Viscount Duncan Colton. After painting for many of the nobility and aristocracy throughout England and Europe, he had been commissioned by a wealthy Annecy family to paint all nine of their children. When that was complete, he was recommended to the
¹ma souer, mon oncle et mes amis = my sister, my uncle and my friends ²Musée du Louvre = The Louvre Museum in Paris, France
bishop at the Franciscan friary of the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre in Annecy and had been commissioned for more renovations. He had loved the village so much that he’d purchased the comfortable Chateau de Fleurs¹ in the French Alps as a summer vacation home. Eventually, he sold his home in Essex when his sons graduated from their studies at an English university and he moved the family to live permanently to the mountains above the village of Annecy. Both of his sons had been greatly impacted by their father’s work and followed in some variation of the art field. His work and that of his sons had continued on from the Alps, and Papa Duncan in particular finally felt he had found himself situated in the perfect setting … a country setting with fresh mountain air which had inspired much of his work.
The bandits had absconded with the coach, the paintings to be displayed at the Louvre-- and the sculptures and vases, the beautiful work of his sons-- and everything of value they had travelled with on their person and for the museum. The driver, along with Samuel, Benjamin and Duncan’s bodies were discovered a few days later. None had escaped.
In the days, weeks and months ahead, Lady Margaret had done what she could in her own grief to turn the thoughts of her daughters-in-law to more noble memories and thoughts than that of their unanswered prayers for the protection of their loved ones. She had gasped for air and closed her eyes shut tight as if she were holding her breath when the news had come that her sons and her husband were no longer living. Those first few hours, days and weeks after the shocking news had been such a blur. They were engulfed in grief and their memories hazy. “We are all tested. This is ours…” Lady Margaret kept repeating that as they huddled together in deep sorrow at the chateau in the Alps.
¹Chateau de Fleurs = Chateau of Flowers
Even now, over a year since the incident, there were times when they feared for their safety. Had someone resented Duncan Colton’s connections to the French court and the former family of the Kings of France? In Duncan’s early years, the Viscount had been recommended by a bishop from the Church of England who had connections to the French court of King Louis XVI. Duncan had been commissioned to paint the royal family in an informal household country setting and at the palace in Paris on several occasions prior to the desperate and depraved events of 1793. It seemed unlikely that someone would see a mere artist as a threat to those in the current political arena after all of the years that had passed since those first few commissions. These thoughts had plagued Georgiana, but dare she mention them again? Could it bring back her beloved husband, brother and father? It was useless to ponder.
Lady Georgiana seemed to suffer more deeply than even Lady Margaret at times. When she reflected on the loss of her parents it seemed as though someone had punched her deep in the guts. Was that why she could feel the Holy Spirit holding her now sometimes? Was it to keep her heart from shattering completely or drive her directly to her knees in endless streams of prayer… or cripple her beneath the weight of loss?
Shaking herself from the events surrounding the death of her husband, Lady Georgiana looked at Lady Margaret and poured a cup of hot tea for both of them when they were finished with their supper. “Sometimes, just now and then, I have this chilling feeling that… how shall I say it? I am sometimes of the opinion that they… were locals… ” She didn’t have to say the word ‘bandits.’ Margaret knew what she meant instantly. The widening of her eyes as she stared at her daughter in law said so.
Georgiana continued: “I think the bandits may reside in Annecy. Well, it’s possible anyhow, as far-fetched as it might sound. Some desperate …perhaps starving men in the village who have been affected by the Revolution going on in our country… I think they followed Papa and Benjamin and Samuel in the coach… and took the paintings and my beloved’s sculptures and Samuel’s vases… and sold them in Switzerland… or Paris… perhaps Vienna … or some other city where art is appreciated. I think they know us and even interact with us each time we go to Annecy for any social function or errand. That’s another reason I want to leave Lake Annecy. I know it is beautiful here, but every once in a while, I can’t help but wonder who else could possibly have known other than loved ones and our dearest friends that our husbands were leaving these beautiful mountains for a journey to display Papa’s art work and that of his sons. Whoever did th
is, I think they are living somewhere down in that village at the foot of this mountain. How did they find them in the dark on that road and escape unseen by anyone else? They left with hardly a trace and the authorities didn’t seem to be very good at tracking them, or they don’t want to stir up trouble by making an arrest or a confrontation.”
“You may very well be right Georgiana,” Lady Margaret said, her head tilted to one side as she considered her daughter-in-law’s concerns. “I think the good Lord may have given you tremendous insight concerning this matter. I have been too saddened in my grief to consider these things before. We’ve given a thorough description of the paintings and all of the artwork to the authorities. All I’ve been able to do is accept what has happened without any further loss of my ability to function and without allowing it to derail me entirely. Sharing my grief with you has been a mercy in all of this. Whoever did this atrocity… we must forgive them and leave restitution in God’s hands. I think we will drive ourselves mad if we don’t leave it there. It is unlikely in a case of unknown bandits that we will ever see justice on this earth unless the paintings are discovered. Even then, it may not lead authorities to who the real bandits are if the paintings and other artwork have changed hands several times.”
“Oui, you are right ma mère.¹ I’m probably just over tired and have thought too hard about everything that has happened. I do agree with you. I feel much better when I don’t think on it and when I simply trust the Lord and as hard as it is, leave it in God’s hands.” Georgiana stood up, pushing her chair away from the table with the back of her legs as she rose. “Let me get you a shawl,” Georgiana said as she retrieved a shawl from the hook by the kitchen door, pushing all of her remaining thoughts of the past away from her mind as best she could.
“Thank you Georgiana… ” Lady Margaret said slowly and distantly without argument, without even looking at Georgiana. She wasn’t cold. She was merely trembling again but she didn’t have the strength to protest since her faithful and loyal daughter-in-law had already risen. When she returned to the table with the pale pink shawl she accepted it graciously along with the Bible that they always read from after dinner. She found the twenty-seventh Psalm and began reading out loud.
Georgiana cleared the table and quickly washed up the dishes, listening to the comforting passage. She was wishing they had a beef roast or some poultry to add to the dinner table for tomorrow evening but determined to be thankful that they had any food at all when so many had even less than they did. Had it not been for Papa Duncan’s successful career and the hard work of his talented sons they might have been starving, destitute and homeless! She pushed herself to be thankful for what they did have.
They finished their tea together and finally Georgiana suggested, “Perhaps a turn in the gardens would be refreshing. Enjoy the sunset. We won’t have very many more French sunsets to enjoy. We should begin packing tomorrow.”
“Packing? Well, if you are absolutely sure you want me to write to the
¹ma mère = my mother
Earl and inform him that we accept his generous offer to bring us into the protection of his household.”
“It is the only thing I am sure of!” She wasn’t about to leave her mother-in-law. She had been a kind mother and Georgiana didn’t have the heart to abandon her. She knew they needed each other in order to move forward.
“I miss our servants,” Lady Margaret remarked absently, wishing she’d had the funds to keep the hired help on after the death of her husband and sons. “You should not be slaving to cook and clean and do all that you have done to help us survive.” They now took turns in the kitchen preparing meals or prepared them together and shared all of the chores and household duties. When Esther, Samuel’s widow, had returned to her family some months after the funeral they had absorbed her duties without complaint.
“Yes, but we shall soon have servants and comfort again in England. I don’t mind helping! It keeps my hands busy!” Georgiana called out cheerfully as she headed towards the pantry to see what was left for tomorrow evening’s dinner from among their meager and dwindling provisions. She was thankful for the distraction of chores and meal preparations.
Surveying the supplies in the pantry and on the shelves of the cupboard as Lady Margaret slipped outside to walk in the garden, Georgiana wondered if they would even last another month if it took that long to meet the Earl’s escort. They were nearly out of everything except tea, coffee, a little sugar, some early vegetables from the small kitchen garden and some cornmeal, a wheel of cheese, oatmeal and some flour and oil. They did thankfully have some butter, vinegar, a little honey and some orange marmalade and raspberry jam on another of the wooden shelves. She was very thankful for the basket of hard tack biscuits and scones. They just had to hang on long enough to meet the Earl’s servants and make the journey to England.
Then she suddenly remembered the notes inside the letter. The Earl had generously sent funds for the journey and more than enough to travel in style! Tomorrow she would make the trip down the mountain and purchase a few more supplies from the general store and deliver a reply to the Earl to go out in the mail coach. She would have to walk. The mountain wasn’t able to be traversed except by horse, pack mule and—only on foot in many places. They used to stable a horse, a coach and a curricle at the livery in Annecy but not since times had become so difficult.
Tomorrow they could eat whatever they wanted for dinner for the first time in months-- without having to do so sparingly! She could purchase a small ham or a chicken from the butcher perhaps... no, both! How this news would cheer Lady Margaret! Perhaps they could make arrangements to stay in a decent hotel in Paris and purchase some new clothing before they crossed the Channel. This time, they would be careful to tell no one of their plans. Please protect us Lord, she prayed silently. She could hardly wait to share the forgotten news with Lady Margaret over a cup of soothing tea before bed. Finding the notes inside the letter was a miracle indeed! How would they ever repay the Earl for this rescue and his many kindnesses to come? They were being rescued from a difficult plight; a burden far too heavy to carry. How good God was to bring relief to the dilemmas they faced.
While Georgiana busied herself in the kitchen readying an evening tea tray to take to the upstairs sitting room, Lady Margaret meandered about in the kitchen garden, then the flower garden and on the flatter parts of the lawn outside the chateau where she could enjoy the last few moments of the sunset.
When she was feeling particularly weak she walked with the cane, as the doctor had advised after the death of her sons and husband. She had suffered a stroke at some point in the aftermath and it was sometimes difficult for her to walk unaided. As she grasped the cane’s handle and carefully stepped through the garden she and her sons and previous servants had planted and maintained over the years, she reminded herself to prepare Georgiana that they might soon be considered merely distant relatives and little more than hired help --unless God gave them favor in their new situation. Though they held courtesy titles of the peerage because of Duncan’s title, they had been left penniless, except for the chateau. If only her husband hadn’t sold their country home in Essex when they had journeyed to France years ago… It was some months after his death she had been made aware of the fact there had only been enough left in the bank to pay off his few debts, and cover the expense of the funeral and burial costs of their loved ones and purchase a few supplies to see them through the year.
There was nothing left for her to do but sell or lease the chateau for income unless they could think of some way to earn a supplemental income. The truth was though, neither of them really wanted to stay where the memories seemed to keep them bound in their grief. It was best to pursue a change in circumstance and situation altogether.
She felt it an answer to prayer that the Earl had so graciously invited them to Essex. At least the chateau was paid for and she could b
e thankful that her husband had at least managed his affairs well enough to see that she had a roof overhead. She might acquire a small but tidy sum for the chateau and the acreage surrounding it. I will miss you Chateau de Fleurs. It would be nice to be able to visit again one day, perhaps with her daughter-in-law and a future grandchild. Somehow, she must find the strength to start over.
Perhaps the Earl could advise her on what would be best to do concerning the land and the chateau. For now, she must move on to stop her grieving. They were well past a proper time of mourning; making it indeed, a good time to go on to England. She prayed God would protect the little Chateau with its lovely sitting room, formal dining room and sewing room on the second floor, the three bedrooms on the third floor, and the kitchen and two studios on the ground floor, and the garret third studio… so many studios, one for each of her three artists. How she missed her sons and her husband…
Lady Margaret allowed her thoughts to travel once again to how they might be treated when they arrived in Essex. It had been years since she’d lived there as a young bride and mother, raising her two sons to be upstanding and fine Christians and loyal subjects of the British crown, respectful to fellow man and seeking professions worthy of pursuit. It made her hands tremble again when she thought they might even have to dine alone or with the servants when they arrived in England, depending upon the wishes of the Earl when he so charitably took them into his household. They might even consider herself and Georgiana little more than a meddling widow and unwanted chaperone and governess to the Earl’s daughters. She wasn’t certain of how well they would be received in his home but she hoped they would be welcomed with open arms after all they had suffered. At one time, Nathaniel had been very close to her sons and her husband… but so many years had passed with only occasional visits to England.
She wondered how she would tell all of her old friends, relatives and acquaintances when she returned to England that God had dealt her such sorrow as to have lost her sons and her husband. Her life had been happy and full of joy until this point. This then must be what the good Lord had asked of her. She must not be a fair weather friend to God now that times were hard when He had been so generous with her throughout all of her life.
She prayed God would give her a new son and allow Georgiana to marry again someday and that these sorrows would melt away from her heart. She prayed her hands would stop trembling but she suspected that since the day of her great loss, this trembling would from time to time recur. It did not seem possible for one heart to bare this much sorrow in the loss of not only her beloved husband but two dearly loved and cherished sons, but then… had not her risen Lord born more on the cross at Calvary for the sins of an entire world? When she thought of it in that light, her sorrow seemed but a light thing in comparison. Her Savior, Jesus Christ, had carried the weight of the sorrows and sadness of the entire world when they crucified him, the Son of God, on that cross so many years ago. Her trembling hands flew into the pocket in the folds of her skirt where she wrapped her fingers comfortingly around the small Bible her husband had always carried. Dear Lord, grant thy handmaidens the grace to endure our suffering.
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19, Authorized King James Version
The Redemption of Lady Georgiana Page 4