A Bluestocking for a Baron : Book 3: Rose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

by Arietta Richmond

  Mr Parkins bowed.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Ladies.”

  Lord Wrenton indicated an inner door and stepped forward.

  “Parkins, I won’t disturb your work – I am just going to show the ladies the workings of the ice house – we’ll come back to speak to you here, if I have any questions.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  Lord Wrenton led them through the inner door, and Rose shivered, for the temperature past that door was far, far colder than it had been in the entryway. They went down a long flight of steps, and emerged in what must have been part of the original cave. Lord Wrenton held up the large lantern that he carried. Ahead of them, the space extended a huge distance, and Rose gasped in awe at the sight. She had not imagined anything so big.

  “Oh my! It is enormous!”

  “It is thirty feet wide, and around one hundred feet long, my Lady.”

  Rose looked at the space before her, considering its construction. The walls appeared to be lined with bricks, to a great height, and then huge blocks of ice were set against those bricks. Straw was piled against the base of the ice, and there was a space between that wall of ice and two sets of shelves which ran for the full length of the room. Another walkway ran down the middle of the room between the shelves.

  “How do you get those huge blocks of ice in here? Surely they cannot be brought down those stairs?”

  Lord Wrenton led them to one side, and indicated a large door in the brick wall, which he opened. Inside was a strange wooden platform, with heavy chains rising from its corners into the darkness above.

  “The blocks are lowered down on that platform. There is a pulley system above, by which four men can wind the platform up or down. If customers have very large quantities of foodstuffs to store, those items can also be lowered down this way. Without this, fully using a space this large would be impossible.”

  He closed the door again, and Rose considered the space around her as he led them slowly down the walkway in the centre of the cavern. After a short while, it came to her that she could hear a soft trickle, as of water running. Looking about, she saw that, below each set of shelves, a brick drain ran parallel to the shelves, and water ran along them.

  “I assume that the water in those drains is from the ice slowly melting? Where does it go?”

  Lord Wrenton continued towards the far end of the room as he spoke.

  “Let me show you. This is where there having been a cave here to start with is most advantageous.” He reached the end, and indicated a crevice in the base of the wall which had not been covered over by brick or blocks of ice. “That crevice is part of the original cave, and seems, as far as we can tell, to spill the water out through the underground caverns, and into the stream which we passed. We know that the water arrives in that stream, for sometimes we see the pieces of straw that it has carried out with it, washed up on the banks.”

  Rose shivered again, the deep cold of the room beginning to settle into her bones.

  “I can see how food would last far longer when stored in here. It is so very cold. It is remarkable how well the ice lasts, from winter until almost winter again!”

  “Ah, after we have cut the new ice each year, there is ice stacked twice as high on the walls as it is now. It slowly melts away through the year. But yes, it is extremely cold in here – I have become used to it, over the last few years, forgive me, I should have warned you to bring winter pelisses.”

  “I would not wish to stay in here too long! But it is fascinating. Thank you for showing us!”

  Maria spoke for the first time, softly, but sincerely. Rose had almost forgotten that she was there, so caught up in studying the ice house had she been.

  “Yes, thank you, Lord Wrenton. But… might we go back upstairs now…”

  He laughed softly.

  “Of course – I would not want you to suffer a chill.”

  As they went back up the stairs, Rose could feel the air warming with every step, and shivered at the thought of what it would be like, to be down there for too long.

  “Lord Wrenton, is there no one here but Mr Parkins?”

  “Most days, there is not. He comes each day for a few hours, and checks that everything is in order. If a customer needs to deliver items, or collect items, then he spends that time here, and calls in the men we use to do the heavy work. The only time that it is truly very busy here is the few weeks in winter when we cut the new ice for the coming year, and line the walls with it.”

  “I am not sure that I would like to be in his position – it would be rather ominous down there, if one were completely alone.”

  “It can be, but one becomes used to it.”

  Rose nodded, and followed him out into the sunlight, turning her face up to its welcome warmth.

  Chapter Five

  Evan had wondered how Lady Rose would react to the ice house, for its size was, indeed, rather overwhelming – it always made him think of echoing haunted cellars, for the light was dim, even with lanterns, and odd sounds moved in the cavernous chamber. As usual, she had surprised him, for her first reaction had been a fascination with how everything worked. Only at the end, as the chill had seeped into her, had she noted the more ominous aspects of the place.

  When she had realised how cold she had become, and had shivered, he had felt a strong desire to pull her into his arms, to warm her against him. It was a highly improper impulse, and he had thrust it aside immediately, but the thought of how pleasant it would have been lingered. Now, back out in the sun, the chill seemed improbable, yet he knew that it waited down there, all year round.

  He had bid Parkin farewell, and they were soon rolling back towards the town, where Lady Rose would speak with a number of shopkeepers about supplies for Chester Park.

  Meanwhile, as they travelled along the riverside, he spoke of his hopes for the new methods of refrigeration.

  “Even smaller ice houses still need a huge amount of ice each year – more comparatively, for the space, than large ones do, for a smaller amount of ice to start with will melt faster. And large ice houses like this must be built with huge amounts of labour, in suitable locations, where they are close to ice and there is enough space. If I could develop an ‘ice-house’ using one of the new methods of refrigeration, which was one tenth the size of this one, or less, then such things could be constructed on large estates, or even in part of very large establishments in London, with no need for ice to be cut and transported, and no need for as much drainage… Now that you have seen this, Lady Rose, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

  She pursed her lips a little, and her fingers twisted an escaped tendril of her hair as she thought. He wondered what that hair felt like, and wanted to reach out and touch it, wanted, if he was honest, to kiss those softly pursed lips. He forced himself to look away, waiting as she considered.

  “I agree that it would be wonderful if you could achieve such a thing. But… even though Mr Cullen made a machine which could create a vacuum and make ice, more than sixty years ago, no-one has yet found a way to make such a thing big enough to be used as you would wish, successfully. I have heard of others working with compression, and with ether, but none seem to have anything that is truly ready for the scale of things that you imagine. I am sorry if that disappoints you. Perhaps there is some other research happening that I have not heard of.”

  Evan sighed. He had hoped… but his hopes were rather unlikely.

  “I must still keep investigating. But it is difficult to discern the details of what those who do such research have discovered. I am sure that there is more possible than anyone is admitting, but a man of science who hopes to make his name and his fortune from a patent, as well as be accepted to the Royal Society, will generally not share anything with a man for whom their area of expertise is a business. They look down on any taint of trade, and see their work as research for the sake of research – right until the day that they believe it is patentable.”

  She looke
d at him sympathetically.

  “I understand. Not that I am in exactly your position, but… no man of science will ever share his thoughts or research with a woman. They deem us to be not intelligent enough to understand such things, and act as if the very idea that we might presume to try offends them. If a woman is perceived as a bluestocking, she is just as likely to become a laughing stock of the ton, rather than ever be lauded for intelligence.”

  “So… we find ourselves in a similar position. At least we can converse with each other on such topics.”

  At that point, they reached the town, and the rest of the afternoon was spent on the mundane task of ordering supplies. But as he escorted the ladies about, Evan could not help but mull over Lady Rose’s words. He still felt quite certain that she knew more than she was admitting, and that she had, to some extent, found her way around the attitude of the men of science.

  He also found himself wondering, again, what Farquhar knew. Was the man simply wanting to eliminate a rival business? Or did he know more of the new methods than he was admitting?

  Evan shrugged the question off. He had refused the man’s offer, and would likely never hear from him again.

  <<<>>>

  Mr Francis Farquhar sat in the coffee shop which was located on the main square of the quaint little town, staring out at the passers-by as he thought. He had been, earlier that day, out along the river road to study the relatively unassuming façade of the ice house which Wrenton owned. Despite its small face to the world, he knew it to be the largest ice house within three counties, and he wanted to own it.

  Not just because it was large, and so perfectly located in all ways, but because he suspected that Wrenton had begun to install the results of new research into it, or other of his properties. Unfortunately, he was also almost certain that Wrenton would refuse his generous offer to purchase the business.

  Which would leave him with two choices – to accept that refusal, or to employ other means of persuasion, beyond money. Francis Farquhar was not known for allowing something he desired to slip from his grasp, so his choice was a foregone conclusion.

  As he stared at the square a barouche drew up, and let down three passengers. Farquhar snapped to attention in his seat, and carefully set his coffee cup down. It was Lord Wrenton, with two ladies, one somewhat older than the other. Wrenton proceeded to squire them about the town, visiting a range of shops over the next hour, as Farquhar watched. And what Farquhar took most note of was just how attentive Wrenton was to the younger woman.

  He would need to discover who she was. For the best way to get a man to give you what you wanted was always to obtain leverage over something… or someone… that he cared about.

  By the time that the barouche departed the square again, Farquhar had the beginnings of a plan. He paid the proprietor of the coffee house, and set off across the square to the last establishment that the trio had visited.

  <<<>>>

  The afternoon had finished satisfactorily, and when Rose returned to Chester Park, Cook was delighted with what she had arranged. The last part of the journey back had been spent with Rose being uncharacteristically quiet, thinking about what Lord Wrenton hoped to achieve, and whether there was any possible way that she could help – whether any of the people she so carefully corresponded with had provided her enough information for it to assist him.

  Maria had filled the silence with a discussion of how medicines might be stored in an ice house without becoming too chilled – for there were some things, apparently, which would be damaged by extreme cold as much as by extreme heat. When Lord Wrenton had driven off, after seeing them to the door of Chester Park, Rose had felt saddened, had almost wished to call to him, to find some excuse for him to stay. She had not, for that would have been most improper – but she had been left feeling out of sorts.

  It was a feeling which, although eased by Cook’s happiness, was then exacerbated by the news which her father delivered that evening. They would be returning to London two days hence.

  Rose would normally have been happy to return to Elbury House, but, instead, the first thought that rose in her mind was ‘will I ever see Lord Wrenton again, after I leave here?’. She went to bed with that thought running through her mind. She supposed, therefore, that she should not have been surprised when she dreamed of Lord Wrenton. Dreams in which she somehow miraculously provided him the knowledge that he needed, and where he, in delight, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She woke flushed, and feeling odd.

  By the time they departed for London, Rose felt no better, and the act of leaving Hyacinth behind, still dealing with all of the impact of Lord Chester’s death, despite how happy she was in her marriage to Kevin, simply added to her mood. In the end, she dozed in the carriage for much of the journey, simply to avoid needing to talk.

  <<<>>>

  Two weeks had passed since they had left Chester Park, and Rose was, mostly, back to normal. She had gone back through much of her previous correspondence, and identified which pieces of information might help Lord Wrenton – should she ever see him again. Surely, she would, at some point.

  Today, however, she was not shut away in her room or the library – she was in the parlour with the whole family, for not only Lily and Trent had come to visit, but Hyacinth and Kevin were in town for a few days, while Kevin saw to some estate business.

  Tea trays had been set out, and, as everyone reached for cakes, Thorne came into the room – last of everyone.

  Rose suspected that he did it on purpose, just for the sake of a dramatic entry. He looked around, his expression amused.

  “So… now that both Lily and Hyacinth are wed, what can we expect next? The crown of family spinster now passes to Rose, and we will see what she can do to shed it, will we not?”

  Rose fixed Thorne with a glare, and tilted her nose up.

  “I am, most definitely, not a spinster! I am only twenty – that is a far cry from spinsterhood.”

  “Still, you must do something – follow the example set by Lily and Hyacinth – I am quite certain that you can find a man to suit you, if they could!”

  Lily and Hyacinth both joined Rose in glaring at Thorne. Hyacinth turned to Lily, and asked, in her sweetest voice, “Should we take umbrage at Thorne’s implication, on behalf of our husbands, do you think?”

  Lily pretended to consider the question carefully, before nodding.

  “I do think that we should.”

  Rose watched, amused, as Hyacinth turned back to Thorne.

  “Well, brother, now that you have offended Lily and I, and our husbands, what will you do next? And what should we require of you, in reparation for your insults?”

  “Reparation! Insult! My, but you do exaggerate, Hyacinth. Of course, I meant to say that Trent and Kevin have shown themselves to be gentlemen of discernment, to have seen the value in you, when others could not. And I am, of course, quite certain that Rose will find an equally discerning gentleman.”

  Hyacinth snorted with laughter, and glanced at Rose. Rose swallowed, rather lost for words. She had tried so hard to avoid being teased. The others watched her, and she realised that it was because she was so uncharacteristically silent. She could just imagine Hyacinth’s thoughts. No doubt she was speculating on whether Rose had actually found any man she might, perhaps, care for.

  At that thought, the image of Lord Wrenton appeared in her mind. Rose chose to simply lift a small cake to her lips and ostentatiously ignore the entire exchange. Hyacinth responded to Thorne, no doubt hoping to cause Rose to react.

  “I, also, am quite sure that Rose will find a man who takes her fancy – all in her own good time, of course. He will need to be a man who cares about food, in all its subtleties – but I am certain that there must be one out there, somewhere.”

  Rose spluttered, and half choked on the cake.

  “Really, Hyacinth, caring about food is not so unusual. And I mean about more than simply being a glutton. Why I met a man recently, who act
ually…”

  She trailed off, suddenly realising that all other conversation had ceased, and that every one of her sisters had fixed her with a curious look.

  Hyacinth appeared to be barely preventing herself from laughing.

  “Do go on, Rose – you met a man who…”

  Thorne’s voice was amused, and he smiled, waiting for her response.

  “Nothing. Forget that I even mentioned it.”

  “My dear Rose, you know quite well that I have an impeccable memory – I could never forget a thing like that.”

  Rose glared at him.

  Hyacinth seemingly felt some sympathy for her, for she spoke, and her words surprised Rose.

  “Rose… I have a suggestion – one which Thorne will, almost certainly, struggle with. You see, I, like Kevin, am required to wear mourning colours until January. And as, when you do eventually get married, I would truly prefer to attend in a colourful gown, rather than drab mourning colours, I do believe that gives you six months in which to find a man you like. So, my suggestion is this. Thorne agrees not to tease you, about spinsterhood or finding a husband, for that six months, and, in that time, you do actually try to find a man you like… If, come January, nothing has happened, then Thorne will be free to tease you again.”

  Thorne spluttered a little in mock outrage.

  “Hyacinth! You are cruel – how do you expect me to go a full six months without teasing Rose!”

  “I am sure, my dear brother, that you are capable of such restraint. It will be good for your soul.”

  Rose looked at them both. After a moment, she nodded, and gave them a hard smile. Six months without being teased was worth needing to at least appear to look for a potential husband.

  “Is that a challenge, Hyacinth? If so, I accept. Six months without Thorne teasing me will be a welcome respite. And perhaps, who knows, I will find a man I can care for…”

  <<<>>>

  A few days after the excursion to the ice-house, Evan received a note from Lady Wareham. He had been vacillating – wanting to call at Chester Park again, yet feeling that he should not disturb a house in mourning any further than he already had. Still, the desire to see Lady Rose again gnawed at him.