Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  As this their own farewell, Benedict boarded his carriage, promising to check in with them soon. Daphne welcomeed this proclamation and he knew that she was entirely sincere. He would see her soon, and together they would resolve this dire situation.

  Chapter 6

  A Merchant’s House in Essex

  Daphne was first to answer the door that day.

  “Good morning, Benedict,” she said with a smile.

  Dressed impeccably, as usual, in a white linen shirt and tailored black slacks, he stood before her, hands full with a beautiful bouquet. He offered it to her without hesitation, his signature warm smile painting his handsome face. “Good morning, Daphne – and what a glorious morning it is.”

  Daphne accepted the flowers graciously. “How beautiful! Oh, Benedict, you are too kind. These will look lovely on the mantel. Please, do come inside.”

  He followed her into the foyer, leaving his coat by the hook. As they entered the parlour together, Daphne drew in the delicious scent of the flowers. She marvelled at their beauty and the thoughtfulness of her companion. The bouquet would indeed look a pretty picture and would add some much-needed colour and life into the room. He must have thought the same, or at least would have known that the fresh bouquet would cheer her up. The flowers filled her with joy and gratitude in a great swell of her heart.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable,” Daphne told Benedict. “I will have our new cook fix us some tea.”

  Benedict situated himself at the table by the window whilst Daphne made her way into the kitchen to fetch a vase. He had been a man of his word; the new housekeeper and cook had arrived at the home three days ago, ready and eager to be put to work. The house had been transformed, bustling with energy and clean once again.

  There was always food readily available to keep everyone in high spirits and the change in the household’s attitude as a result was stark. Daphne no longer feared hosting company because of the state of the house, and she was glad that Benedict had been in attendance every day since the incident last week.

  On the way to the kitchen, she passed Prudence, who was on her way to tidy the rooms upstairs. She had a duster, a bucket and a cloth in hand.

  “You seem in high spirits today, Miss Daphne,” the young maid noted with a tilt of the head and a whisper of a smile.

  “It is a new day, Prudence,” Daphne declared. “The new help has lifted the burden for us, has it not?”

  Prudence nodded, her demeanour more energetic than Daphne had ever seen it. The other day she had even heard the girl humming to herself as she cleaned the hearth. Daphne had paused in the doorway to listen, surprised and delighted.

  “Of course, Miss Daphne,” the young maid agreed. “Matilda and Gretel have been a most wonderful help. I am very glad to have the company.”

  Relief flooded through Daphne as she filled the vase with water. “That is good news indeed. You seem of much better condition yourself. Oh, Prudence. I am so pleased that things appear to be settling down.”

  Prudence smiled again. Her nervousness had made way for optimism this week past, and it was a welcome change for the home. “I feel the same, Miss Daphne.”

  The maid excused herself to attend to her chores, and Daphne was delighted to hear her humming that same tune as she went. She really was a completely different girl – it was not just the house that had undergone a transformation.

  In the kitchen, the new cook had set about preparing a hearty breakfast for Mr. Blanton: warm, freshly-baked bread with a thick slab of butter, a medley of vegetables from the garden and some cured meats. The kitchen smelled divine enough to make Daphne’s mouth water almost immediately.

  “Good morning, Miss Daphne!” the cook exclaimed at the stove, turning to face her new mistress. Gretel was a wide and hearty woman, eager to laugh and always jovial. The boys simply adored their new cook, and not just because she allowed them to sneak treats from the kitchen. She was quick to jest with them and was almost as mischievous as they could be.

  The three had taken to playing pranks on each other. Jasper was initially shocked that the large woman showed them any interest at all and was completely enraptured when Gretel started to join in on their shenanigans. Between the three of them, it had become a game of sorts. Daphne didn’t mind that cook played along; it kept the rest of the household out of trouble.

  “And to you, Gretel,” Daphne replied with a smile. “Would you be so kind as to prepare some refreshments for two? Lord Gildon has just arrived.”

  Gretel nodded. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Daphne.”

  Daphne thanked her and retrieved her mother’s favourite vase from the tall cupboard across the kitchen. It was a dazzling glass thing with a hefty base and was a gift to her mother from one of her father’s earliest travels abroad. Mr. Blanton had announced that no flowers would survive the long journey, so it only made sense to provide an everlasting vessel for the years of flowers to come. Daphne smiled at the sweet memory; yes, this would suit the nature of the flowers perfectly.

  Daphne returned to the sitting room with the vase of water and as Benedict turned to greet her; he was silhouetted by the sunny beams that filtered through the pane behind him. The scene of him against the window was a picture, and Daphne was once again overwhelmed by the gratitude she felt toward her closest and dearest friend.

  “A spectacular choice,” he said as Daphne set the vase down atop the fireplace. “Your mother’s favourite, if I recall correctly?”

  “That you do,” Daphne said with a smile. She admired the handiwork; the bouquet was a collection of blossoms from the Gildon’s own property. Peonies, lavender and foxglove were among a series of other greenery and blossoms. The aroma was so potent that it began to fill the room with its scent. It was a welcome change from the old ash and dust they had been so acclimated to.

  Prudence entered then with the tea, so Daphne took a seat across from Benedict as the modest spread of small hot breads and fruit was laid. Prudence bid them goodbye to finish preparing a tray for Mr. Blanton upstairs.

  “How has he been?” Benedict said as he poured tea for them both. “Has his mind improved much this past week?”

  Daphne blew on her cup. “In truth, not especially. He is quite torn about Roberta’s betrayal. Oh Benedict, I am beginning to fear for him. My father has never been the sort of man to do well alone. He is such a loving creature with so much to give. When he has no one to bestow this affection upon…he grows so morose. Whenever I have entered his room these days past, he has been staring into the locket he gave Roberta. It was one of the few things she left here, which struck me as cruel. It has her picture inside and he is often so entranced by it that he does not even hear me knock.”

  Benedict contemplated this whilst he sipped his tea. “I had hoped that the additional staff would better his temperament.”

  “Perhaps not his temperament,” Daphne admitted, “but certainly mine. The condition of the home has improved tenfold.”

  Benedict chuckled. “Then my effort was definitely not wasted. I am happy to hear it, Daphne.”

  “Thank you, Benedict,” Daphne said with complete sincerity. “You have honestly kept my home and my family together. I do not know where I would be without your generosity.”

  Words of gratitude spilled so easily from Daphne’s heart, as if always sitting upon the surface. Every action of her friend seemed sewn through with the purest of intentions. A moment of content quiet settled between them as they picked at the plate of refreshments.

  After a moment, Benedict asked, “How are your brothers doing?”

  “It has come as a complete surprise,” Daphne began, “but I fear they may turn out to be quite the gentlemen after all.”

  “Is that so?”

  Daphne nodded. “Matilda is a perfect housekeeper and a wonderful chaperone. You were right when you promised me she would be firm, but she is always very fair in her judgements. The twins have a lot of respect for her.” She leaned in a little closer
and beckoned for Benedict to mirror her. “I suspect Jasper is beginning to fancy her!”

  Benedict feigned a dramatic gasp. “The same Jasper whose favourite past time is to bully and pester?”

  “The very same! Naturally, Lionel has followed his brother’s lead. Together they are the perfect young men. So really all is right in the world – except for the state of my father.”

  “The last piece on the chessboard,” Benedict mused.

  Daphne considered her friend for a long moment. It was as if she could see the wheels turning in his brain. His was an expression she had seen many a time before on the face of her stepmother; but where Roberta was always scheming, Benedict was always contemplating. His brows were drawn together and he rubbed at his chin, seemingly unconscious that he was doing so. If Daphne were partial to painting, the sight of her Lord friend in this position would have made for a wonderful portrait.

  Daphne set her teacup down. “Perhaps you would like to speak with my father? I think it would be good for him to hear a man’s voice, and you do calm him so.”

  Benedict’s reverie ended. “Of course. I am always happy to see Walter.”

  They rose together and made their way to the staircase with Daphne leading the way. Her heart stammered in her chest as her nerves were piqued with each rise in the staircase. The last her father saw of Benedict was when he was told of his wife’s desire to separate. It was Benedict who shared that news with him, and Daphne dearly hoped that her father did not assume that more bad news was on route due to her friend’s visitation to the house.

  Just before they reached her father’s chamber door, Daphne turned and linked her arm through Benedict’s. The Lord paused a moment, a bemused expression crossing his face.

  “I just wanted to say,” Daphne said softly, “that once again, I am truly grateful for you. For everything you have done this week and past, and for everything you continue to do for myself and my family.”

  “Daphne –“

  She shook her head. “Please, let me finish.”

  Benedict tilted his face, a show of his curiosity. The sun that swept in through the second-floor window doused his hair in golden light. For Daphne, it was quite fitting to see him bathed in the beautiful, almost unearthly glow.

  “I know that I have been relying on you so much of late,” she said. “And I want you to know that I am eternally thankful. Your kindness knows no limits and your compassion is without boundary.”

  “You are my dearest friend, Daphne,” Benedict replied, his voice gentle and warm as the light.

  Daphne took a breath. “I wonder if I could trouble you with a favour one final time?”

  “A favour for you is no trouble at all.”

  With her arm still linked through his, Daphne asked, “Will you help me find a new wife for my father?”

  This did not seem to be the question Benedict expected, for his expression faltered. The downturn of his lips were the giveaway.

  “I know I ask a lot of you,” Daphne continued, hurrying to dissipate the uncertainty growing in Benedict’s eyes. “But Roberta was the poor choice of a desperate man. I cannot see him as lonely as he is now, but I cannot trust him to pass good judgements upon relationships any longer. This stint with a second wife would have taught anyone else a lesson in personality but I know that my father pays no heed to his mind when his heart becomes invested in an idea.”

  “Daphne –“

  “You’ll be in London this season, and I am sure there will be an abundance of suitable women of easier temperament who would make an excellent wife for my father.” She clutched him tighter, green eyes looking into his dark ones. “I trust your judgement of people, Benedict, for you have a sound mind and good heart. If there was ever a person who I believed would be able to do this for my father, it is you.”

  Benedict released his arm from hers only to take her by the shoulder. “Daphne, I have never refused you anything in the past.”

  Oh, how these words made the pit of her belly swirl. In that moment it was as if something alive was flailing within her! Her mouth was suddenly dry as she anticipated the next words that would come from between his lips.

  “But I cannot do this for you.”

  Daphne dropped her gaze to the floor, the weight of this statement falling heavy upon her shoulders.

  But before she could respond, Benedict continued. “You must come to London with me, Daphne. That was our arrangement.”

  Surprise painted her face. What she had expected from his implication was that she had asked too much of him, and that he could no longer help her; this seemed quite the opposite.

  “I refuse to allow you to stay here and miss the season. You simply must attend London with me.” His voice softened then. “Your father is dependent on you, and any would-be wife that enters his life now would be living in your shadow. And furthermore, you are wrong about who should be charged with finding your father a suitable wife. It should be you, Daphne. Not I or anyone else, but you, for who better a judge of temperament than the woman who has lived her whole life with him?”

  Daphne was conscious to the fact that tears threatened to brim in her eyes. “Oh, Benedict…”

  “Your father would not do well to see you waste away at his side. Your entire proposition seems counter-intuitive to the needs of both parties. You must be the one to find your father a wife, if anyone, and to do so, you must accompany me to London.”

  Benedict’s words hovered in the air between them like petals in the wind. For all the gratitude she had offered him this week past, she was entirely lost for words now. Benedict had always been one to make a convincing argument, and this suggestion was as good as ever.

  She comprehended the logic behind his reasoning, and admittedly the idea of being the one to help choose his father’s next companion was one that filled her with hope. Though she truly did believe Benedict to be the best judge of character, she also knew her father better than anyone else alive and was entirely aware of what the old man needed.

  But still, all her reasons to go with Benedict to London were the same as those that prompted her need to stay with her father. Though the family had new help, Mr. Blanton did rely on his relationship with his daughter. He told Daphne as much, and she knew it to be true, for she relied on him as well.

  It was at that moment that Gretel ascended the stairs with Mr. Blanton’s breakfast tray. Benedict stepped away from Daphne with a smile, greeting the cook warmly and taking the tray from her hands.

  “Thank you, dear Gretel. I will deliver this to Mr. Blanton.”

  The rotund woman curtsied and excused herself. Benedict turned back up the hall toward Daphne, who remained by the window searching for the right words to say. Before she could catch him, Benedict rapped at her father’s door and was called to enter.

  “Benedict!” She heard her father cry from his bed. He did, thankfully, seem happy to see the man.

  Daphne followed Benedict and shut the door behind her. The room had been tidied to the best of Prudence and Matilda’s abilities; much more of the floorboards were visible, allowing Benedict to cross the room and set the tray of breakfast down beside Mr. Blanton far easier than he was able to do last time.

  “Benedict and breakfast – in bed, no less! Well, I am a spoiled man.” Mr. Blanton eyed the spread eagerly, then nodded to his daughter. “Good morning, Daffodil.”

  She was stunned by his change in attitude. It was remarkable to witness such a shift in his mood, for he had been so melancholy these past few days. Daphne could only assume that it was the presence of the young Lord Gildon that put her father on his best behaviour. She wanted so dearly to believe that his current mood was genuine.

  “Good morning, my dear Walter,” Benedict said by way of greeting, shaking the older man’s hand with that warm familiarity. “How are you feeling this fine day?”