The colour of her eyes, their beautiful green, pierced him right to his very core. All at once he was caught up in his great affections for this woman. They had known each other so long, were so close in mind and heart – and age. Their ride two days past had opened something within his chest that he had not felt before. All his mother’s talk of marriage and suitability did not seem to matter nearly as much to him as when Daphne had told him that she was to miss out on the season. He wanted to help her, wanted to be there for her. Always.
But he faltered under her gaze. “You are my dearest friend.”
His words came on too strong, that much was obvious. He released Daphne’s hands just as the maid re-entered the room with the tray of tea. She set it between them and, after a moment of silence, excused herself to attend to the twins. Daphne was still staring right at Benedict; he could feel her eyes on him as he poured them each tea.
Had he upset her? It was difficult to tell for she was so still and silent. He was just so happy that they were going to be in London together, and for something of this nature to come between them now, and for Daphne to be so ruined by it, wreaked havoc upon his heart. She needed to know that he would always be there for her, and that she was always going to be important to him. They were…friends. Such good friends, after all.
Finally, she spoke. “Thank you, Benedict. Your kindness knows no bounds.” Then, from her pocket, she retrieved the letter. “Please, read it for yourself. I would very much like to hear what you make of the words.”
He did so. The letter was prompt and terse. Daphne was right – there was no mistaking the meaning behind it. Mrs. Blanton had directly stated that she meant to put an end to the marriage in writing herself.
“Disgraceful,” he agreed. “And to write to you instead of your father, no less. Such cowardice in a woman I have never seen before.” He set it down on the table.
“I cannot bear to tell my father,” Daphne said. She set her tea down on her saucer and he noticed her trembling hands. “His countenance was measured this morning, but I have no doubt he was keeping face whilst I was in the room. His wife had rejected him for so long and I believe he feels that his worst fear has been realised. And still, he believes her time in London to be temporary.”
Benedict set his own tea down and took a breath. “Perhaps I should speak with him?”
“Oh, Benedict, would you? To hear it from you might be easier than to hear it from his own daughter.”
Benedict nodded. “Of course, that was my opinion as well. I know the man as well as I knew my own father. He respects me, and I think he would do better to hear of such news from me.”
In agreement, they finished their tea and rose, deciding not to delay the news any further; it would not be fair for Walter to be kept in the dark about the truth of his marriage. The man had been through so much already. Benedict readied himself whilst Daphne took a moment to check on the whereabouts of her brothers.
“They don’t know about the permanence of her departure either,” Daphne explained once she returned. “I have just told them that you are here, and to please remain outside for the moment.”
Benedict smiled. “I am sure that was hardly worth telling them, was it not?”
Despite herself, Daphne giggled. No, she certainly never had to tell her brothers to avoid the house. The adventurous young men were sometimes tasked to maintain the estate property, since they were too young to enter the workforce and yet too wild to allow to run about. As boys they were educated in the Manor by the Gildons’ own tutors, but since the death of their mother, the Blanton boys had not returned. Benedict’s own mother seemed more concerned with the future of the young men than their own father was.
Daphne led the way up the stairs with Benedict trailing behind her. As he watched her make her way down the hall, he was once again struck by how lovely she was. She moved with a grace so natural that not even the ladies of high society could mimic it. The way she brushed a rogue curl from her face as she turned to face him outside the door to her father’s chamber made his heart ache. He didn’t want her to be in pain.
“I think it best if I wait out here,” she said, her voice low.
Benedict nodded and offered her a smile with as much warmth as he could muster. He knocked at the door.
“Daphne?” came the call from beyond. “Please, come in.”
“Be gentle,” Daphne whispered as Benedict opened the door.
He was at once taken aback by the state of the room. It was immediately apparent why they were in such desperate need for a housekeeper; a single maid and Daphne’s assistance was not enough to keep Walter’s assorted belongings managed.
“Benedict, is that you?”
Walter was sitting up in bed and for a moment his face was so clear and full of delight that he did not seem a man unwell at all. In fact, his spirits seemed to be so well that for a moment Benedict was entirely convinced that Daphne had not told her father anything, or perhaps the old man had forgotten.
“Good morning, Mr. Blanton,” Benedict said. He was unsure how to cross the room that was so littered with things. Then he noticed there was a clear path through the clutter and knew at once that such an act of engineering could only have been Daphne – Mr. Blanton would surely not allow anyone else to handle his things. Perhaps that was what drove the housekeeper away.
“Our very own Lord Gildon, in my home! Well, now I know I must seem in a right state. Had I known you were coming, Benedict, I would have made myself more decent.”
“Nonsense, my good man,” Benedict replied. “I have heard that you have been unwell. Frankly I thought I would find you in a much sorrier state than you currently seem to be.”
Mr. Blanton propped himself up on the bed. “Please, take a seat. I do apologise again for the state. I have not had strength enough to tidy since our wretched housekeeper left us so suddenly.”
Benedict nodded and crossed the room via Daphne’s path. He sat at the foot of the bed and studied the man. It was strange; he seemed thin and pale, and yet sprightly. Perhaps the only cure he needed was a visit from the young Lord – a friendly and familiar face to break up the drudgery. Not that he would ever consider Daphne to be a part of that drudgery, of course.
“I heard you have a great number of things to contend with currently,” he said to the old man. He knew that Walter loved to be taken seriously, and that his life as a merchant was worthy of such boasting. It had been quite a while since Mr. Blanton had been able to travel as far in pursuit of his fortune, and the business of sugar had grown increasingly competitive. Still, if Benedict knew anything of a man’s personality, it was that validation was fuel for the ego. It would be best to soften his bed with compliments before sharing the bad news.
“Yes,” Walter said once Benedict had a seat. “My health has been in jeopardy of late. As for my beloved wife, she has been unable to tend to me. I have been incredibly lonely, dear Benedict. My own sons pay me no heed. If it were not for my lovely Daphne, I would have no one.”
Benedict nodded at all of this, taking it as seriously as he could. This was all knowledge that his daughter had relayed to Benedict.
“And only this morning Daphne announced to me that my Roberta has gone to London. I do not know what drove the woman to do so – I would have hoped she would have heart enough to care for me, her husband. I do not know what is keeping her from me, but I am certain that the situation must be so dire. Why ever else would a wife put such a distance between herself and her husband.”
Benedict wanted so much to play along and tell Walter that he does not know, but he, in fact, does know. Now it the only opportunity he will have to alleviate Walter’s concerns. He must shut down any lasting affections that Walter has for his wife, for otherwise she will drive him mad with worry.
“That is actually why I am here, dear Walter. Your daughter had heart to call me from Hedingham. It appears that your wife has decided not to return.”
Walter stared at him, not seeming to comprehend the
words. “What are you saying?”
“Your wife has asked for an annulment. She will not be returning to your side, my good man. I am so sorry.”
“But she has only gone to London, has she not?” Walter exclaimed. “Daphne said so herself – that Roberta had gone to London. There was no mention of such a thing. Is this a lie?”
Benedict reaches for his shoulder. “I wish it were not true, Walter. But it is. A letter was sent this morning from the company of another. Your wife wishes to be yours no more.”
As soon as the words were past his lips, Walter let out a frightful wail, loud enough to shake the walls of the very house. The door to his chamber was open just as quickly as Daphne threw herself into her father’s arms.
“Dear father, it is true. Roberta has left us for London and she will not return.” She rocked and soothed her sobbing father.
“She cannot have left me! It is not true! Not my second wife!” Walter threw back the covers and attempted to hurl himself from bed. Benedict rushed forward to assist Daphne in keeping him against his pillows.
“Father, please!” Daphne cried, holding her father close once more. “We speak the truth.”
“It is not your fault, Walter,” Benedict added, keeping a firm hand on the man’s shoulders. After a moment of struggle, Walter apparently exhausted himself. He flung himself back and wailed once more. Daphne held her father as the man cried.
“My heart – my poor, broken heart. However will I go on?”
Daphne turns to Benedict, and the two share a look of sorrow. Neither were to know that her father would react with such violence and outrage. To be sure, they could have assumed that tears would be shared, by the physicality of his reaction had taken them both by surprise. The man was utterly devastated, and grief had come to claim him immediately.
Just moments ago the man was so happy, so joyful to see Benedict even with the knowledge that his wife had left the home. He was a man fuelled by hope, Benedict can now see. He was clinging so longingly onto the possibility that his wife would finally come and bed at his bedside. How could he believe anything else? He had remarried out of loneliness and desperation for a companion.
Walter Blanton’s first wife – Daphne, Jasper and Lionel’s mother – was an angel of a woman. Her name was Charlotte, and she was one of the loveliest woman Benedict had ever had the pleasure of meeting. His mother was so taken by Charlotte that the two were steadfast friends, frequently dining together, walking about the garden, even attending the Gildons’ soiree s together. So close was their friendship that Benedict would have considered the first Mrs. Blanton to be a second mother to him, as was his mother to the three Blanton children.
Charlotte was warm where Roberta was cold, soft where the other was hard. Her beauty could be seen in that of her daughter, who had inherited her mother’s dark hair, green eyes, fair skin and handsome face. In certain lights and in certain moments, Benedict would look upon Daphne and see in her a tenderness and motherly demeanour that was so reminiscent of the lovely woman.
Benedict often thought that as a child, he loved Charlotte more than his own mother. The life of a Lord was so stringent, so full of rules that must be enforced upon him. Whenever the Blantons were around, this righteousness lifted. The Blantons were always a moment of reprieve for the young Lord of Hedingham.
It was to be expected that, after her death, Walter would want to find that again. When Charlotte had grown ill and bedridden, she was essentially shunned by society. Though his mother would write to her frequently, her ailing condition had not allowed Charlotte to leave the house, nor any visitors to attend to her. It was the darkest of times for the Blanton family, and Walter had been without his dearest companion ever since. Benedict knew the pain of losing a parent, as he had lost his father, but the thought of losing your soul would be unbearable.
He was still crying into his daughter’s arms, murmuring incoherent things over and over. Daphne, ever patient and full of love, held him gently, rocking him as if he were little more than a child. In that moment, their positions could have been reversed, with Daphne in the position of caretaker and her father in a state of complete vulnerability.
Benedict knew Walter well enough to know that he would not overcome this so easily. It had taken him four years since the death of his first wife to brave society enough to secure a second, and it was obvious to all of them now that the man had settled on someone who was not at all a healthy match for him. Benedict did not have to be a part of this household to understand this.
He made his leave, closing the door behind him and heading downstairs. As he reached the landing, he heard chatter from the sitting room. Jasper and Lionel sat where he and Daphne had been not moments ago, breakfasting.
Lionel noticed the Lord first and paused mid-bite. The motion caused Jasper, the older and bolder of the twins, to spin in his chair.
“What are you doing here?”
Benedict raised a brow. “That’s hardly the way to greet the Lord of Hedingham, is it?” He said it in jest, though he was sincere in his implication that the boys really ought to have better manners. Propriety was not something they had lacked in their education. His own tutors had tutored these boys as well, albeit for a much shorter time.
“What are you doing here, Lord Blanton?”
Daphne would simply die if she knew that her brothers speak to him in this way. Benedict knew that he should really chastise Jasper but given the current situation upstairs and the fact that he was once a wily thirteen-year-old himself, he did not indulge the boy’s attitude.
“I was attending to your bereaved father,” Benedict replied.
Jasper rolled his eyes. “The poor man had it coming. He married a witch.
“I hope she never comes back,” Lionel added, much more quietly.
Benedict nodded. “Well, dear boys, you have gotten your wish. It appears that your stepmother has indeed left for good.”
For the first time ever in his memory, the twins were stunned to silence. Benedict paused – should he not have told them? Perhaps Daphne should have been the one to say something to them, but she was so occupied with her weeping father that she could hardly be expected to have the energy to relay this news to her brothers as well.
Jasper gaped at Benedict. “What do you mean?”
Benedict took a seat at the table to recount to the them the letter that reached their sister this morning. Once the tale was told, Jasper let out a great, triumphant yell. Lionel was grinning like a madman.
Benedict reigned them in before the excitement swept them away. “Do not be so foolish as to act as if all is well. This may have serious implications for your family, particularly your sister.”
They did quiet at that, exchanging a look that Benedict could not quite decipher. Just then, Daphne returned to the sitting room. She looked utterly exhausted.
“Is it true, Daphne?” Lionel asked.
“Is she really gone for good?” Jasper clarified.
She sighed heavily. “I am sure that whatever Lord Gildon has told you is the truth, yes. It appears that our stepmother no longer wants to be our stepmother, and while this would otherwise be a cause for celebration, your father is upstairs dealing with immense grief. Roberta has made a scandal of this family, and so today is the today that both of you will be needing to grow up. We have to be strong for our father.”
Benedict concurred, then rose from the table. “I believe I have done all I can do for you today, my friends.” He bids the boys farewell and together he and Daphne make their way out the front door and up the garden path where Benedict’s carriage still awaits
Daphne took his arm. “Thank you for everything you have done, today and every other day.”
“As I told you, Daphne, I would do anything for you.” He was once against stunned by her wide, clear eyes. “And your family,” he added.
“You have my eternal gratitude,” she told him.
Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 7