“You, however, do not appear to be doing particularly well,” the officer replied, eyeing Stephen keenly. “It has been a year now since your wife passed away, and whilst I am aware that you have endured your mourning period without much word to anyone, I have become concerned that your grief still remains.”
Stephen bit back his first, sharp response, knowing that he would not and could not speak disrespectfully to his superior. “It is a dreadful thing to lose one’s wife,” he stated, as calmly as he could. “I miss her still.”
“I am well aware of that,” Lieutenant Fitchley replied, quickly, “but your drinking to excess has become noted by those around you and is not, I am afraid, appropriate behavior for someone such as you.”
A muscle ticked in Stephen’s jaw as the Lieutenant’s sharp brown eyes remained fixed on him. Lieutenant Fitchley had simply allowed Stephen to work through his mourning period for his late wife without saying or doing anything much at all. No demands had been made of him, no words of reprimand had been spoken. It seemed as though everyone realized just how terrible it had been for him to lose Lady Carrington.
Until today.
“I enjoy my brandy,” he stated with a small shrug, refusing to admit to himself that even at this late hour of the afternoon, he was struggling with the effects of too much liquor. “There is nothing wrong with such a thing, surely.”
Lieutenant Fitchley sighed and shook his head. “You refuse then, to admit that there is an ongoing concern in regards to your grief and your inability to cope with the responsibilities connected with it.”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Stephen said, harshly, turning around to face the Lieutenant a little more. “There are no concerns nor responsibilities for me here, save for my duties, and I have not failed in them.”
“But you have sent your children away.”
“What else was I to do?” Stephen cried, suddenly filled with frustration and anger that he was being questioned over his own decisions. “My wife was no longer present in this world to care for them in the way she had done. The house we lived in was unwelcoming without her presence. I could not bear to remain there and see them so alone.”
The Lieutenant, who had once been so compassionate, now appeared quite resolute. “And so, instead of returning with them to England, and to your estate and your responsibilities there, you have chosen to remain with us.”
“I have,” Stephen stated, clearly, not at all moved to change his opinion on what he should or should not be doing. “And I have every intention of continuing to remain here as I ought.”
Lieutenant Fitchley shook his head. “That is where you are quite incorrect, Carrington. You have a responsibility to your children, but also to your estate and the duties therein.”
“I care nothing for my estate,” Stephen replied, harshly, rounding on the officer. “My heir has been produced. He will be able to take on the duties required when the time comes.”
“At the tender age of ten years old?” Lieutenant Fitchley demanded, slamming one hand down on the corner of Stephen’s old chest of drawers. “You are a fool if you think a child should be handed that responsibility when his father is more than able to do such a thing. Is it your intention to remain here and, in doing so, fight until you are either too weak to continue or are killed in battle?” He glared at Stephen, to the point where Stephen was forced to drop his gaze, knowing full well that the lack of care over his own wellbeing and the like came from a severe depression over what had occurred in his life. He might have had a year of mourning, but it had not softened the pain in any way whatsoever.
“I have received word that there are difficulties in England which require your presence,” Lieutenant Fitchley continued, albeit in a slightly softer tone. “Your duty here is completed, Carrington. You are no longer required.”
Stephen bristled at once. As a Duke, he had every opportunity to remain in England and never even think of responding to his duties to fight for his country, but he had been unable to do such a thing and had forced himself to throw aside the expectations of English society and instead purchase colors in order to join the army. He had never once wanted his wife to follow the drum, knowing of the difficulties that could come from such an endeavor, but Lady Martha Carrington had been quite determined. She too had assuaged all societal expectations and gone with him, until he had discovered she was pregnant with their first child. Instead of returning to England, he had settled them in India, where he had some of his holdings. It had been a happy and contented life, and Lady Carrington had soon produced their second child – a daughter. It was not until his oldest had turned eight years of age that their suddenly idyllic life had gone awry. Martha had become ill and weak, and when cholera had struck, she had not had the strength to withstand it. Sending his children back to England after her death and burial had been one of the most painful acts of his life, but he had done so in the knowledge that it was the best thing for them. He had found a young English lady on her way back to England’s fair shores and had secured her as a governess until he returned.
Except, he was now no longer certain that he had any intentions of returning. Going back to the army had seemed like his only choice. He had joined them again before his mourning year was at an end in an attempt to rid himself of the pain that was with him almost daily, but instead, he had found himself haunted with memories of his life before Martha had passed away.
“If you are speaking of the fact that the first young lady I secured as governess to my children has already quit the house, then, as I have already said, I have been informed that a new young woman has taken over that particular responsibility. Therefore, there can be nothing else of concern.”
“Oh, but you are mistaken in that,” the officer said, his brows now burrowing together. “Your estate is running without your leadership. The steward has grown old and weary in his overwhelming task. He has quit your establishment and gone in search of a new situation.”
Stephen’s mouth gaped open in astonishment, having been entirely unaware of such a change in circumstances.
“I believe you were informed of this some days ago,” the Lieutenant went on, his sharp tone returning. “But you were too heavily in your cups to realize the significance.”
Struggling to find something to say, some excuse to make and some justification to give for his lack of action in regards to this serious and significant matter, Stephen felt a rush of fear crash over him. He truly could not recall a single mention of this matter prior to this moment. Had he imbibed so much that he was losing his ability to recall matters of importance?
“There is no excuse for this, Carrington,” the Lieutenant finished, sending a flash of fear down Stephen’s spine. “You must return home at once. The army no longer requires you.”
Swallowing hard, Stephen raked one hand through his dark hair and shook his head. The thought of returning to England, to his home, and to his children, was not one that he could currently accept. If he saw John and Mary, they would remind him of his dear Martha. If he walked about his estate, he would find himself torn apart by memories. Even if he were to go to his smaller townhouse in London, it would bring back to mind the happy times he had shared with her when they were first courting.
“You may relieve me of my responsibilities here, but I will not return to England,” he stated, the first hint of anger burning in his heart. “I will not be manipulated into doing what another believes necessary.”
The atmosphere changed suddenly as Stephen spoke those words of defiance. His Lieutenant, whilst above him in rank, could not give him orders about what his duties were once he left the army! He would stand in utter defiance if he had to, but he was not about to do what Fitchley demanded.
“Tread very carefully, Carrington.” Lieutenant Fitchley’s voice was low and quiet, although his warning was more than apparent. “You are not in your right mind at this present moment, which is more than obvious to almost everyone who so much as looks at you,
and therefore I can easily ensure that you are brought home to your children and to your estate. I can assure you that it would not be particularly difficult.”
Stephen rolled his eyes, no longer pretending to have any sort of respect for what the Lieutenant was asking. “I hardly think you have any right to tell me what I must and must not do, sir,” he stated, harshly. “Once I am gone from this place, once I am free from my duties, then what I do with my life is to be of my choosing. I shall not allow you to demand such things of me.”
The Lieutenant’s face grew dark with anger. “You shall do your duty, Carrington!” he exclaimed, striding forward and grasping Stephen hard on the shoulder. “Do you understand me? You must shake this sorrow from you, else you will lose everything that is precious to you. I am only doing what I can in order to help you.”
“I do not need your help!”
Before he could prevent himself, Stephen struck out, hard, against his Lieutenant. His fist connected with Lieutenant Fitchley’s cheekbone, throwing the man back hard. Lieutenant Fitchley stumbled backwards, and as he was unable to keep his balance with both the shock and the force of the blow, he fell, with a crash to the floor.
Stephen stared in abject horror at what he had just done. He had disgraced himself utterly. He had struck his commanding officer and, in doing so, had brought no end of shame upon himself.
Silence reigned.
As Stephen watched, Lieutenant Fitchley slowly picked himself up from the floor, his face a dark red on one side. His eyes were blazing with anger but, to Stephen’s astonishment, he saw a small, grim smile spread across the Lieutenant’s face.
“Sir?”
There came a knock at the door and Stephen cringed at the sound of another man’s voice, knowing that the shame of his actions could no longer be hidden.
“Come in,” Lieutenant Fitchley called, and immediately, two younger officers strode into the room. Their eyes landed first on Stephen before traveling towards the Lieutenant. Stephen saw the shock on both their faces and knew that his utter disgrace was inevitable.
“Carrington is to be placed under guard and arrangements are to be made for his return to England,” Lieutenant Fitchley stated, not even glancing towards Stephen. “Two men will accompany him at all times until he returns to his estate. Do I make myself clear?”
The two soldiers nodded, their faces set in severe expressions. One sent a sidelong glance towards Stephen, who closed his eyes and hung his head. He had gone much too far. He had allowed his anger and frustration to overtake him and now, it seemed, he was to pay the price for his stupidity.
“At once,” Lieutenant Fitchley barked, making the two soldiers jump to attention. “Take Carrington to his room and have him pack his things. Thereafter, he is to be kept under guard until all arrangements are settled. I would have him gone from this place within the sennight.”
The two soldiers murmured their understanding and came towards Stephen, who did not so much as attempt to flee from them.
“In time, you will see that this was for your own good,” Lieutenant Fitchley stated, as Stephen was led from the room. “And I should think that there will be no more need for brandy or the like, Carrington, at least not until you reach England.”
Stephen wanted to apologize, wanted to open his mouth and tell the Lieutenant that he was truly sorry for what he had done, but he could not find the words. Shame was burning all through him, his face downcast as he was led away. There was no going back to the army now. It seemed as though, despite what he wished, he would have to face his demons back on England’s shores.
Chapter Two
It had been several weeks now since Jenny had first arrived at Prestwick house. She had not gathered her skirts about her and hurried away from the house as the children had predicted, nor has she given up on them both as Mrs. Blaine had thought. Instead, despite the ongoing difficulties she faced with them both and the struggle to simply maintain order within the house, Jenny was beginning to find that she was growing steadily more determined to do whatever she could in order to secure the children’s happiness. She wanted to discover what it was that made them treat both herself and the staff in such a despicable manner, and she wanted to find out the truth of what they felt within their own hearts, no matter how long it would take. She could not explain what made her feel such a way nor have intentions such as those, other than to realize that there was still so much grief and pain within their hearts over the loss of their mother, even if they did not want to reveal it to her. She could see it within them at times. Sometimes, it was only for a moment, but it was there, nonetheless.
“You must be tired today.”
Jenny let out a long breath and gave Mrs. Blaine a rueful smile. “They have been particularly trying this morning,” she agreed, accepting the cup of tea from the housekeeper with a grateful smile. “We shall, in the future, have to make sure that Mary is forbidden from taking anything from the kitchens.” She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a strangled exclamation that did not sound mirthful in the least.
“I don’t know how you manage it, Miss Edgington,” Mrs. Blaine said, shaking her head as she came to stand next to Jenny and watch both children as they ran wildly around the gardens. “Mary tried to attack you with that knife!”
Jenny winced and closed her eyes, trying to take in a steady breath. She had not wanted to reveal to anyone just how shaken she had been by the incident, but the truth was that she had been quite overwhelmed. To see Mary rush towards her with a small knife flashing in her hand had been truly terrifying. Yes, the girl had been easy enough to restrain with the help of one of the footmen, and yes, the knife had easily been plucked from her hands and then returned to the kitchens, but still, the incident had shaken Jenny more than she wanted to admit.
“And that boy….” Mrs. Blaine ended her sentence with a long sigh, shaking her head to herself. Jenny could not help but sympathize, knowing full well what Mrs. Blaine meant.
It was more than apparent that John despised Jenny’s presence here in Prestwick house. He made his feelings quite clear, for he would often insult and demean Jenny, and would never allow her to draw close to him in any way. Whenever she asked him something, even if it was the simplest of questions, he would refuse to answer her and would, instead, mock her mercilessly. Jenny had quickly learned to let his words roll off her without letting them affect her, realizing that all of John’s cruelty and harshness came from a place of pain.
Unfortunately, when she had told him this fact, explaining that she knew full well that John was not talking about the grief that he felt over the loss of his mother, but that by doing so would allow his heart to mend, he had grown so angry that he had rushed from the house. The staff had been alerted to his disappearance at once and so, a search of the grounds had taken place. When it had become apparent that he was not present within the grounds, Jenny had felt herself grow sick with fear – until a footman mentioned that the young boy had sometimes ridden to the nearby small town of Prestwick – although he had not seen him do so for some time.
John had been found there, safe and sound, although his pockets had been full of other people’s effects. He had been pick-pocketing, it seemed. Even now, just at the thought of it, Jenny felt her heart sink to her toes. To learn that he had been stealing in such a manner had been deeply troubling for her, fearing that John was going to turn into some sort of delinquent unless she did something to help him.
Unfortunately, she had not yet learned what it was she could do in order to bring him some relief, to help him express his heart and release the pain and sorrow within. It was an unenviable task, but as yet, she had not given up trying to do so.
“What they must have suffered,” Jenny murmured aloud, drawing Mrs. Blaine’s attention. “I cannot imagine it.”
Mrs. Blaine shook her head. “You have more compassion than I do, that’s for certain,” she said, bluntly. “I know they must have suffered dreadfully, what with the loss of
their mother and then being sent away by their father, but I can’t see past what it is they’re doing now.” Her lined face grew heavy with either regret or frustration, Jenny could not quite work out which. “The way they treat you – the way they treat all of us – well, it’s more than I think I can bear.”
“And yet we must continue to endure,” Jenny replied, softly, her heart filling with grief all over again as she remembered her own trials. “I know what it is like to be filled with such pain that you do not think you can so much as raise your head from the pillow.” Her voice broke and her eyes began to burn with tears, but with an effort, she continued to speak, looking out at the two children instead of at Mrs. Blaine. “As a full-grown woman, I have dealt with anger, with sorrow and with the grief of losing those dear to me. For a child to lose their mother, and then, instead of receiving the comfort of their father’s arms, be sent away to England to a home they do not know, must be truly difficult. They are so young, and instead of allowing their anger and sorrow to be free, which they must do in order to begin to heal from their pain, they have held it within themselves. Seeing others suffer and behaving cruelly towards those who try to help them is simply what they feel they must do in order to cope with all that they feel inside.” She sighed and rubbed at her forehead, blinking back her tears with an effort. “They are mistaken, of course, but they cannot see that yet. In time, I hope that they will do so.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Blaine said nothing but looked out at the children again, her expression rather thoughtful. Jenny used the silence to help herself regain her composure, her mind tugging away from the painful memories of the past so that she might return to her current predicament.
“I can understand what you mean,” Mrs. Blaine murmured, eventually, her eyes still fixed on the children. “I must try to remember what you’ve said the next time one of them gets into the flour and throws it all around the kitchen.” The wry note in her voice made Jenny smile, pushing back the last of her tears.
A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4) Page 2