by Abigail Agar
“All right, have a seat and I’ll send Louise to come and see you while I warm up some soup,” her mother said.
Beatrice took a seat and Louise came in a few minutes later, squealing with excitement and throwing her arms around Beatrice.
“You have come back to us! Oh, we missed you. How long will you stay?” Louise asked, leaning against the settee and pushing herself down with effort so as not to put great pressure on her weak leg.
Beatrice shrugged.
“I wish I could say that I have come for a week or more, but sadly it shall only be a matter of two or three days, depending on when I am able to get a cart back to London,” she replied.
“Just two or three days? But you have come all this way! How long did your journey take you? Easily eight hours, I would expect,” Louise said.
“Something like that,” Beatrice said, having been too tired to pay attention to the length of time.
Her mother returned with a bowl of watery soup and a chunk of bread that was fresh enough to have been baked that very morning.
That, in itself, reminded Beatrice of the joys of coming home.
“Oh, my dear, we are so happy that you have come back for a visit. Louise and I were just saying yesterday how we missed you and, suddenly, as if by magic, your letter arrived,” her mother said.
“And Marissa? Has she written to you?” Beatrice asked, hoping to see her other sister as well.
“Indeed. She shall be arriving tomorrow. Oh, I am so happy to have my daughters back together again. Your father shall be terribly sad that he has missed this,” her mother said.
“I would have liked to have seen him,” Beatrice said, her heart aching.
“Well, there is nothing to be done about it. You must stay for as long as you are able and, when you can, come back while he is here,” her mother said.
Beatrice was warmed by the knowledge that she was so welcomed in her home. She was grateful that her mother and sister had not forgotten her after all of this time of her being gone.
Of course they loved her, but Beatrice had seen young women leave the home only to find that their families were grateful because they had one less mouth to feed.
Beatrice certainly did more for her family by being a governess outside of the home. She had had no children younger than her in the home to teach and raise, so there was no reason for her to have stayed behind.
Louise, however, had failing health and had been given no choice but to remain with their mother.
Beatrice missed her father, but he was away as a merchant. Traveling the country in order to sell his goods, he was doing his own part to keep the family afloat.
“And how are things with your employer?” her mother asked.
“Very well,” Beatrice said. “I am lucky to have such a wonderful family that I can look after. The girls are growing and learning very well. Lord and Lady Seton are very kind to me. And Isla, of course, remains a good friend.”
“So strange, but so encouraging. I never did think that you would find more than a job with them. You have found kinship,” her mother said.
“It must be very grand, having friends like that. Does she ever allow you to try on her gowns?” Louise asked with longing.
Beatrice laughed.
“Not hers, but I was able to purchase a gown that is very fair. Nothing so grand as Isla might wear, but certainly nice enough,” she said.
Beatrice felt a surge of pride that she had been able to do so well in the home of her employer. It was clear that her family was proud of her. She was proud of herself.
It was not always easy trying to find a position in London, but Beatrice had managed to do just that. She had proven herself worthy of the role. She had been able to make a large purchase for herself but also provide for her family, sending them money with every month that passed.
“Well, I am glad to hear that you like the role,” her mother said, her voice carrying a hint of some other thought.
Beatrice eyed her, curiously.
“Mother?” she prodded.
“Oh, you must forgive me. I am glad that you like your position, truly. Only…I was thinking something about which you may disapprove,” her mother said.
“Oh, dear. What is it, Mother?” she asked with trepidation.
“Well, I would very much like your permission to help arrange a marriage for you,” her mother said, coming out with it.
It came as a shock to Beatrice. She had not expected this from her mother.
Why would her mother want her to marry when she was doing so well in her position and was able to help the family financially? It would be no benefit to them at this point. Marrying another poor man who could not help the family finances would be a waste.
Yes, she had thought about it. But Beatrice had not expected her family would actually desire it.
In the past, she would have refused outright. She would have told her mother that it was simply not what she was looking for now. She enjoyed the work that she was doing and was perfectly happy to continue.
Lately, however, things had grown more complex. Suddenly, she did not want to have to stay in place. It was not simply that she was anxious to watch Isla marry a man.
It was that she had noticed that man. She had noticed him when she had no right to.
“I am sorry. I ought to have known that it would make you uncomfortable. You like your job too much. But you must think about your future, Beatrice. You do not have to spend your life raising the children of others. You are young and beautiful and have every ability to enjoy a family of your own,” her mother said.
“Yes, Mother, but…oh, I am not sure what to say,” Beatrice confessed.
“I know, I know. But think about it. Think about the joys of marriage. Your friend, Lady Isla, she is going to be off and away soon enough. She has found some grand husband, has she not?” her mother asked, referring to a letter that Beatrice had written when the marriage was first arranged, before she had even met Lord Hawthorn.
“Yes, Mother,” Beatrice said in a hushed voice.
“So do you really want to spend your days teaching young women, without any peers, rather than having a wonderful match of your own?” her mother asked.
“I did not say that,” Beatrice replied.
“Then I urge you to consider the option. I want you to be happy, my dear. I believe, wholeheartedly, that this will make you happy. Of course, it is your decision. But think about the wonder of love and romance. Think about the joys of marital bliss. I cannot imagine my life had I not found your father,” she said.
Beatrice took a deep breath and tried to focus. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. But she knew, without a doubt, that whatever choice she made, she would have to live with the consequences.
It could mean being torn away from the family she had grown so close to in London. Or it could mean accepting a marriage to someone that she did not care for.
But if it was with her mother wanted, she had to consider it.
“I…I shall think about, Mother,” Beatrice said.
As the words left her mouth, Beatrice knew that it was a good idea. She ought to accept her mother’s offer. It was the best thing for her.
“You know, Mother. I do need to think about it, but I ought not to argue with you on the matter, or try to defend anything. Just give me a week to think about it and then I shall write to you,” she said.
Her mother smiled in relief.
“Very good, my dear. I think you should consider it. I know that it would be difficult to leave your current position, but you could be happy in marriage. I have no doubt of that,” her mother said.
Beatrice considered it over the next couple of days, as she enjoyed time with her mother and her sisters, as well as Marissa’s little one.
It was a time of refreshment that she had greatly needed. Beatrice wished that she could stay longer, that she would be able to indulge herself by remaining with them.
“Are you certain that you cannot remai
n for another week?” her mother asked.
“I would love to, but I cannot. I have already committed to returning quickly,” Beatrice said.
“But they know that your family lives so far. I am sure that, being as reasonable as they are, they would be more than willing to allow you to stay longer,” she said.
“Yes, they likely would. But I do not feel right about being gone for long, Mother. I want to continue being a good employee to them. It would not be right for me to take advantage of their generosity,” Beatrice said.
Her mother looked sad, but understanding.
“I shall be home when the holidays arrive, of course. Two weeks. As always,” Beatrice promised.
“Yes, yes, I know. But that is such a long time away,” her mother said.
“Perhaps I may come again for a few days before then. I shall try,” she said.
Her mother nodded and gave her a strong embrace.
“I do hope that you allow me to find you a match so that you are stuck here with us,” she said, laughing.
“I should like that very much, Mother,” Beatrice replied.
She moved to say farewell to Marissa next.
“Thank you for coming down as well so that I did not have to travel further,” Beatrice said.
“Certainly. I wanted to come anyway. I have missed you so much. And Mother is right. You must come again. You must see us. We love you dearly and hate to be separated from you,” Marissa said.
“I know. I shall make every effort,” Beatrice said.
“And she is right on the other matter too, you know,” Marissa said. “A husband is a wonderful thing to have.”
She said her farewell to Louise, likewise, who cried at Beatrice’s departure. It was heartbreaking to have to leave them all behind, but she knew that it was the only option.
She would return to London, consider her situation, and make a decision as to whether or not she would accept a husband chosen by her mother.
Chapter 14
“I am very sorry, Lord Hawthorn, but Lady Seton is feeling unwell. She is accompanied by her mother,” the maid said, returning to him as he waited in the parlour.
“Oh, dear. Is she all right?” Peter asked.
“Yes, My Lord. She is all right, just ill. I fear that she will not be coming down for lunch,” the maid said.
Peter wasn’t sure what to do just then.
“Well, is Lord Seton home? Perhaps I may dine with him,” he suggested.
“Lord Seton is out today. He has gone to dine with an acquaintance,” the maid said.
At a loss for what to do, Peter just stood for a moment. He had been invited around that day, but that must have been before Lady Seton fell ill. Lord Seton must have assumed that Peter would simply dine with his wife and daughter.
But now, there was no one with whom he could spend his time.
“Will he be returning soon, do you think?” he asked the maid.
She looked uncomfortable.
“I really cannot say, My Lord,” she replied, as if she thought it was a foolish thing that he had asked.
Which it was.
How could she possibly know how long Lord Seton would be out for?
“Yes, of course, of course. You must forgive me. It is just that I came at the invitation of the family,” he said. “Am I not able to give a greeting?”
“I do not think so, My Lord,” she said.
Although he would’ have liked to give her his well wishes, it seemed fruitless. The maid had made it perfectly clear that he would not see her, even for that.
With that in mind, he decided that he had no choice other than to leave. He would not be dining with his betrothed and there was nothing that he could do in order to help her. There was nothing else to be done.
“Well, thank you. I must be going,” he said.
Peter stood and prepared himself to depart. As he left the room, he saw none other than Miss Cloud staring back at him from the hallway.
Peter froze. He could not explain why, but there was a spark of excitement that struck him in that moment.
It was followed by a terrible, overwhelming guilt.
“G-good afternoon, Lord Hawthorn,” she said, lowering herself into a curtsey.
“Miss Cloud, how lovely to see you,” Peter replied.
It was wrong that he felt so comforted by seeing her. It was wrong to have thoughts of any woman other than the one that he was set to marry.
But Miss Cloud was so lovely. It was not just her beauty, it was her humour too. It was the way that she spoke and the way that she smiled and every word that came from her lips.
“Have you come to see Lady Seton? I fear that she is unwell today,” Miss Cloud said.
“Yes, so I have heard. Do you think she will be all right?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. It is only that she was out riding in the cold two days prior. I believe she shall make a full recovery within the next day or so,” Miss Cloud said.
“That is good news,” he said.
“She is an excellent rider. You have seen what a grand dancer she is, but she is equally elegant with her horsemanship. And it is sad to see her ill, but I know that she will be all right,” Miss Cloud said.
She spoke with such care for the young woman that she taught. She was also clearly rather close to Lady Seton, the two obviously being better friends than one might expect considering the class difference.
“And her sisters? Are they ill as well?” he asked.
Miss Cloud smiled and shook her head.
“No, indeed, they are perfectly well. It is my duty to ensure that they do not go near anyone who might get them sick, so I took care to hide them away once it became obvious that Lady Seton was growing ill,” she said.
“You do take excellent care of them, don’t you? I have been very impressed by how you look after the two,” Peter said.
Miss Cloud blushed.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said.
“I am only making an observation. It is a relief to know that the family has so benefitted from your efforts. You are quite a marvelous addition to the household, I expect,” Peter said.
“I am hardly anything of the sort. Honestly, I am merely adequate,” she said, laughing.
Miss Cloud displayed the modesty that was expected of all women, but he trusted—as with other women he knew—that she was perfectly aware of her strong capabilities. She was rather impressive and she also knew the proper manners for the circles of society.
“And do you enjoy working here? Are you happy?” he asked.
Miss Cloud’s face went flat and her eyes wide, clearly surprised by the question. He wondered if she was ever asked what made her happy, what made her content.
“Was that question too forward?” Peter asked.