by Bree Wolf
“His Grace himself ordered it removed,” Mrs. Rigsby huffed. “I merely intended to remind you that his word is our command.” Her tone clearly suggested that this included Rosabel as well.
Unwillingly, her eyes drifted to Edmond. He raised his eyebrows, eyes shifting to the governess, and Rosabel had the distinct impression that he was urging her on.
Collecting her thoughts, Rosabel turned back to Mrs. Rigsby, who had no doubt read Rosabel’s feeling of insecurity on her face and now stood looking at her mistress with a victorious glint in her eyes. Rosabel, however, refused to be intimidated by this woman any longer. To hell with the consequences, whatever they might be!
“Mrs. Rigsby, this is the last time I will stoop to such a conversation.” The governess’ eyes widened. “His Grace chose me for his wife. He made me the Duchess of Kensington and put me in charge of Lady Georgiana’s care as well as this household,” here she stopped for emphasis, her eyes drilling into Mrs. Rigsby’s whose face appeared to have lost all its colour, “which includes you.” For a second she glanced at Edmond, seeing the grin on his face as his head bobbed along to her words. “Am I making myself clear?” Her voice harsher than she had ever heard it before.
Steam coming out of her ears, Mrs. Rigsby nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good,” Rosabel said. “You are dismissed for today.” The governess’ eyes widened. “Lady Georgiana will not attend her lessons, but spend the day with her family.”
Swallowing the words she clearly wished to say, Mrs. Rigsby nodded, turned on her heel and stopped as her eyes fell on Edmond, still standing in the door, grinning.
After the shock dissipated, she mumbled ‘Your Grace’ and hurried out of the room.
Edmond closed the door and walked over to where Rosabel slowly sank back down on her chair, her knees feeling like pudding. “I am proud of you,” he said beaming. “It was about time the old crow got put in her place.”
Georgiana giggled.
Feeling all blood drain from her face, Rosabel blinked, trying to chase away the bright spots suddenly appearing in her vision. “What have I done?” she whispered, not seeing the others but staring straight ahead, contemplating her doom.
Edmond knelt down in front of her and, taking her hand, said, “You did the right thing.”
Rosabel shook her head. “You don’t even know what happened here.”
Edmond shrugged. “I can guess.” He glanced at his sister’s portrait.
Rosabel followed his eyes. “Won’t he be furious when he finds out?” she whispered, casting a careful glance at Georgiana, who had returned to her painting of Shadow.
“I would count on it.”
Rosabel gasped, seeing bright spots again.
Instantly, Edmond lifted a hand, begging her to remain calm. “Please, do not fear him. Dogs that bark rarely bite.” His eyes shifted to Georgiana for a second, making sure that she was still engrossed in her painting. “Graham is dealing with his own demons right now. He has his reasons for what he does, as ludicrous as they are, but that doesn’t mean you should back down just because he might get angry.” He squeezed her hand. “Do what you did today! Stand your ground. If you’re right, you’re right. No amount of yelling can change that.”
Withdrawing her hand, Rosabel brushed them over her face, rubbing her temples, contemplating the situation she suddenly found herself in. Then she met Edmond’s eyes and shook her head. “I am not your sister. I cannot do what she did. I…”
He smiled at her then. “But you already have! You need to open your eyes and see yourself as I do.”
Again shaking her head, Rosabel considered him. “What makes you say these things to me? How can you be so kind? Do you not hate me for taking your sister’s place? How is it that instead of wishing me gone, you come to my aid?”
Edmond smiled, taking the seat next to her. “As I have said before, I believe that you will heal the wounds of this family. As much as I wish my sister was still with us, she is not. And although she will always be with us in a way, she cannot do the things she did before. She cannot protect Georgiana anymore. She cannot hold her. Comfort her.” He glanced at his niece, and Rosabel saw love in his eyes. “We need you for this.” Again he squeezed her hand. “And from what I understand of your situation before, you are in need of a family yourself. Isn’t that so?”
Rosabel nodded, remembering the cold detachment with which her aunt and uncle had always regarded her and the heart-felt love that had always shone in her parents’ eyes whenever they had looked upon her. The memory twisted her heart. “I love how she looks at me,” Rosabel whispered, glancing at Georgiana.
Edmond nodded. “She is beginning to love you. You are becoming her mother.”
Although his words warmed her heart, Rosabel couldn’t help but shake her head. “I know that Georgiana needs someone to love her, but I do not wish to replace her mother. That would not be right.”
“I do not speak of you replacing Leonora. She will always be Georgiana’s mother. She will always be a part of this family.” His eyes held hers as he spoke. “But that does not mean you cannot also be a part of this family. Who says Georgiana can’t have two mothers?”
“Do you truly believe that?”
Edmond nodded. “With all my heart. I could never contemplate a life in which anyone replaced my sister. But I believe under the circumstances she would share her role as Georgiana’s mother. Wouldn’t you? If you were in her position?” Rosabel looked at the little girl, her golden curls framing her soft face, cheeks flushed pink as she bent over the paper on the table, brush in hand, a concentrated frown wrinkling her forehead. Rosabel nodded. “I would, yes. She deserves no less.”
Edmond smiled then. “I am glad. Then for the sake of Georgiana and ourselves, let us find a way.”
Chapter Thirteen − Business to Attend to
To Rosabel’s great relief, after their confrontation, Mrs. Rigsby seemed to avoid her wherever possible. Putting the governess out of her mind, Rosabel spent her days with Edmond and Georgiana. They took turns around the garden, to the duck pond and rode into the bordering woods and across the grassy meadows to the west of the manor. Meals echoed with chatter and laughter. Her own face split into a heart-felt smile, and the echo of her laughter rose and mingled with those in her company. More often than not, they all had tea in the Dowager Duchess’ chambers in the afternoon. The old woman glowed when they filled her room, their voices echoing off the tall ceiling. In these days, Rosabel felt happy, welcome, not just tolerated, and even loved.
With honest regret, she watched Edmond take his leave a week later and ride down the winding road leading away from the house. Before long he was lost from sight, and Rosabel felt the deep loss of a friend and ally.
Returning to the attic, Rosabel no longer saw herself as an intruder, someone who didn’t belong. Getting closer to Edmond had also brought her closer to Leonora. Now Rosabel considered her husband’s first wife an ally as well, someone to lean on, someone who could help her find her way, someone who counted on her to succeed. And she sought to know the woman who would walk hand in hand with her to ensure their daughter’s happiness.
As she opened the crate that had formerly hidden half of Leonora’s portrait, her eyes fell on the by now familiar wooden box containing Graham’s letters. Taking out another one, Rosabel took a deep breath, seeking permission. As the trembling in her fingers ceased, she took out the sheet of paper, unfolded it and began to read. It was dated December 1793, two months after the last one.
My dearest L.,
I beg your forgiveness for not writing sooner.
Even though I am away from you once again, the memory of our last meeting keeps me whole. Before my eyes I still see your beautiful face wherever I go, whomever I meet. No one and nothing matters until I will be in your presence once again. At this point I cannot say when that will be, but believe me, my love, that I will not rest until I am with you once more.
I
remain yours with all my heart,
G.
Had her husband written these lines? Rosabel could hardly believe it. Edmond’s words again echoed in her mind. Leonora’s death had left her husband a shadow of himself. He seemed broken beyond repair. Would she be able to help him? Was Edmond right? Or did he deceive himself? Having hope when there was none?
That night, Rosabel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, and compared the two men that she knew to be one and the same, but that she also thought to be mutually exclusive.
There was the man who was her husband. He had cold eyes, that threatened to stop her heart whenever he looked at her. His lips pressed into a tight line; she had yet to see him smile. She barely remembered his voice for he had hardly spoken two words to her. It had only been an order, short and clipped, without explanation or concern for her. He had married her because he needed her, not because he wanted her. He needed her to raise his daughter, but he refused to be in the same house with her. There was nothing between them. Nothing but distance.
And then there was Graham. A man who had married the love of his life. A man who spoke of love in every letter he wrote. A man who had fought for the woman he loved. Fought and won. Rosabel tried to imagine his face as he had looked upon Leonora at their wedding day. The blue in his eyes sparkled, flecks of emerald dancing upon a sea of blue, matching the radiant smile that curled up his lips as he lovingly whispered, ‘I do.’
***
Glancing up from the papers cluttering his desk, Graham turned to the sound of hooves echoing on the gravel path leading up to the house. He cursed. Taking care of his estate’s business from two-days away was complicated enough. He did not need unnecessary interruptions.
Before he could turn to the next item on his schedule, there came a knock on the door to his study and the butler entered.
“Yes, Stanton, what is it?”
“The Duke of Cromwell, Your Grace,” Stanton said, giving a quick bow.
“Have him enter,” Graham instructed, sorting through his papers and neatly stacking them on one side of his desk. Then he walked over to the cabinet and poured himself and his friend a drink.
Footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and then Edmond came bursting through the door, his usual good-natured smile on his face. “Ah, yes, refreshments!” he exclaimed, reaching for the glass Graham extended to him. “Just what I need.” And he downed the contents in one swallow.
Sitting back down behind his desk, Graham looked at his friend. “Good day to you too.”
Filling his glass once more, Edmond sank into the armchair by the window opposite Graham’s desk. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You have no idea how inconvenient it is for me to have to come all the way down here to see you. What on earth possessed you to take up residence here?”
Eying him carefully, Graham frowned. “Is there a particular reason for your visit? Or did you just come to deplete my liquor cabinet?”
Edmond smiled. “I’d say a little bit of both.”
“Well, then let’s get to your reason. Why are you here?”
“To enjoy your delightful company. Truly, there is nothing like it,” Edmond chuckled as he toasted Graham.
“Edmond, I do not have time for your games,” Graham grumbled, glancing at the stack of papers that still needed his attention. “State your business or leave me to my own.”
Edmond sat up, and the impish smile slowly left his face. Graham swallowed. Whenever Edmond looked as mature as his age, his words were serious. Why had he come?
“I’ve seen Georgiana,” Edmond said without preamble, looking across the desk, eyes intent on Graham’s face.
At the mention of her name, Graham felt a tug at his heart. It had been months since he had last seen her. He didn’t even know how many. He couldn’t keep track. The key to peace of mind was the removal of all those who affected him.
“I assume she is well?” he asked, not realizing that he was holding his breath. When Edmond nodded, he exhaled. “Well, is there more?” Pretending that his friend’s words hadn’t rattled him to the core, Graham averted his eyes, turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.
“You can’t ignore her forever,” Edmond said. “She is your daughter, and she needs you.”
For a moment, Graham stared at his friend. Jaw clenched, he forced out the next words. “You know the situation. You are one of the few who do. Why do you speak of this to me?”
Edmond leaned forward in his chair, unimpressed by the anger burning in his friend’s eyes. “Because you need her too.”
Graham drew in a sharp breath, but did not say a word. For a long while, they just stared at each other. Having grown up together, they had reached that point in their relationship when words were often unnecessary. Graham knew how much Edmond cared for Georgiana, and while his friend had never hesitated to take his side, his loyalty to Leonora and her daughter trumped the loyalty he had for his friend. In a way Graham admired that about him even though it inconvenienced him at the moment.
Then Edmond blinked, breaking the connection of their silent exchange. He leaned back and the smile returned to his face, mischievous and plotting. Graham knew to be on his guard. “I’ve seen your wife too.”
Graham shrugged. “Is she well?”
Edmond nodded. “Better than was to be expected under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Graham scoffed. “I made her a duchess and demanded very little in return.”
Edmond laughed, “You have no idea, Brother. And I fear that no matter what I say you will not see it. So, −” he rose to his feet, “I have decided that you will accompany me back to Westmore.”
Graham’s eyes fell open. “What? Are you out of your mind?”
Edmond grinned. “Never felt better. Thanks for asking.” He leaned forward, hands resting on the desk, and the twinkle in his eyes grew more intense. “Listen, I can see that you’ve gotten into a nice, little habit of brooding and grumbling here, but that doesn’t mean that all your responsibilities have dissolved into thin air. Wasn’t that the reason why you married Rosabel? Because you thought it your duty to provide Georgiana with a mother?”
Graham didn’t know what to say. Hearing her name conjured up an image of her face. Although he barely remembered details from the few times he had laid eyes on her, the softness of her kind features had stay with him. It had been the reason he had chosen her. For her kindness. Her compassion.
Reading his friend’s face correctly, Edmond continued, “You made her a duchess, yes, but do you really intend for her to walk the rest of the way alone? She was not born to this, and yet, she is doing remarkably well.” He grinned, apparently remembering something entertaining. “You’d be proud of her.” Straightening up, Edmond came around the desk. “Come back with me, my friend, and set things right.” When Graham hesitated, he added, “I am not talking about forever, merely a few days.”
As he watched Edmond’s face, the determination and honest interest he saw there, Graham felt his resolve waver. After all, he had planned on taking her to London for a few days in the beginning of the Season any ways. But now that these days were approaching fast, he felt reluctant. Should he go? He had worked so hard to put this distance between them, between himself and his daughter as well as his wife. What would happen if he saw them again? And at Westmore? Would he survive? What would it be like to see his daughter again without his beloved wife by her side? To walk the halls of Westmore without Leonora?
“I will think about it,” Graham mumbled, avoiding his friend’s inquiring eyes. “Now leave me to my business.”
Chapter Fourteen − Return to Westmore
Whenever Rosabel was not with Georgiana or the girl’s great-grandmother, she spent her days hidden away in the attic reading Leonora’s letters, or rather her husband’s letters to Leonora. In the beginning, they sounded hopeful. Although some obstacle stood in their path, Graham sound
ed confident that they would overcome it. He professed his love again and again, begging Leonora to place her trust in him and not despair at the troubles they faced. Over time, however, the hope that Rosabel had always felt when reading his letters slowly dissipated. Instead, hidden anger resonated in the lines before her eyes. Although he had hoped for a positive outcome, it became clearer and clearer that it would not come to that.
Rosabel was confused. After all, in the end they had gotten married. Had they almost despaired, given up, only to have fate interfere and bring them together after all?
Again turning to the letter in her hand, dated November 1794, Rosabel found her eyes once again glued to the words written there.
My dearest L.,
Although my love for you has not lost its life, these days my heart is filled with fear rather than hope. I beg you to believe me when I say that my intentions are still where they were a year ago. My heart has not changed. But I fear my heart will not be allowed to dictate the future. My hands are bound. I fear all is lost. If only…No, there is no point in wishful thinking.
Pray do not worry about your situation. I will see you safe at the very least. Trust that, if nothing else.
I remain yours with all my heart,
G.
As Rosabel sank down onto one of the crates, her eyes felt moist, tears threatening to spill forth. The emotions in those lines touched her. She knew very well the feeling of hopelessness, of being forced into a situation, of having your future taken out of your hands.
Taking a deep breath, Rosabel wiped at her eyes, blinking away the tears. She returned the letter to the small wooden box and closed its lid, feeling too emotional herself to read another one. However, when she turned to go, she spotted something out of the corner of her eyes.
From the slit between the wooden box containing the letters and a small jewellery chest, the edge of what appeared to be another letter peeked out. Frowning, Rosabel reached to pull it out. Had she dropped one? She couldn’t remember, but knew she ought to be more careful.
Unfolding the letter, Rosabel frowned. The letter was not one she had read before. It was dated April 1795, about a half a year after the one she had just read.