They stopped at the end of the path, Marianne’s mother a few paces behind them in the form of a chaperone. Marianne offered the man a smile. “It is fine to seek ways of relaxation as one sees fit. However, do you not enjoy reading as a means of escaping into another part of the world? Or even to escape from the world entirely?”
Mr. Sharp gave a half-snort, and Marianne came to realize that nothing about the man was relatable. At the age of three and twenty, she was nearing spinsterhood, and if she did not find a husband soon, she feared her parents would arrange a marriage for her. Their idea of a suitable husband for her stood beside her, as had many before him, and she found every one of them either as dry as dust or so self-absorbed they would never take notice of her.
“Books of business most certainly are enjoyable,” Mr. Sharp replied. “But those for pleasure? Such books are for the simpleminded to spend their time in idleness. I want my time for recreation to be more active. I spent too many years sitting for hours on end reading books during my school years; I do not need to waste any more time on such drivel.”
She went to rebut, but seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she turned and smiled as the family’s gardener, Neil, came walking their way. He was older, at least in his mid-sixties, with a gray beard and a crooked smile that never left his face, but despite his age, his skills in the garden were wonderful. Marianne adored the man. When she was younger, she would find herself talking to him as he worked. Even as recently as last week, she had come out to sit nearby to exchange polite words with the man as he clipped away the dying roses from a nearby rose bush.
The man came to a stop and bowed awkwardly. “Miss Blithe,” he said, the tools he carried in his arms tumbling to the ground, one of which landed on Marianne’s foot.
“Ow!” she cried, her big toe throbbing.
Neil gasped in horror. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he said, hurrying to collect the fallen tools.
Mr. Sharp stepped forward to grab the collar of the poor gardener. “You old fool!” he spat. “You should be ashamed of yourself, hurting her. I shall see to it that you are removed from your position and thrown off this property immediately!”
Marianne’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the pain in Neil’s eyes. She was quite aware that in most homes servants were regarded as beneath those who owned the houses. If that was what people wished in their own homes, then so be it; however, she would not allow it to happen in hers.
“Mr. Sharp, apologize this instant,” she hissed. Mr. Sharp’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Although Neil is employed by my father, he is also a friend of mine,” she said. “What happened was an accident, so there is no need to treat him in such a harsh manner.”
“He’s right, Miss, I am an old fool,” Neil said in a sad tone. “It’s fine. I’ll be on my way to collect my things and go.”
“No,” Marianne said, placing a hand on the man’s arm before he could leave. Then she turned and gave Mr. Sharp an expectant look. “Mr. Sharp?”
“Now, Marianne,” her mother said as she walked up to the trio, “Mr. Sharp is only looking out for your wellbeing.”
“No, I will apologize,” Mr. Sharp said before turning to the gardener, though his tone was as tight as the coat he wore. “My apologies, Neil. It is true that I was simply concerned for Miss Blithe’s safety and nothing more.”
Neil stood gaping at Mr. Sharp for one quick moment before nodding and hurrying off, the heavy tools tightly pressed against his chest.
As they continued their stroll, Marianne’s mother fell back once again, and Marianne glanced at the man beside her. He was still fuming at being forced to apologize, or so she suspected when she took notice of the tightness around his eyes and his pursed lips.
“My foot is fine,” she said as a way to assure him. “There will be no lasting damage.”
“That is not the point,” he said in a strained tone as he forced them to stop once again. “Servants must be put in their place when they do wrong. If we allow them to get away scot-free with such disrespectful behavior, it only encourages them to show less care.”
Anger rose up in Marianne, and she had to bite her tongue lest she embarrassed not only herself but her mother, as well.
Her father’s voice brought her attention behind them. “Sharp, how are you this fine day?” he asked as he came to stand beside Marianne’s mother.
“Very well, Sir,” Mr. Sharp replied. “I am glad you are here, for I wished to make a request to call by again in a week’s time.”
Marianne held back a sigh of frustration. She did not want to see this man again, but she knew her father somehow liked him. However, she gave her father a pleading look, and he gave her a small smile.
“Unfortunately,” her father said, “Marianne will not be available.” Marianne’s heart leapt with joy. “She and her mother will be away visiting her aunt, who I am sad to say is in ill health.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Madam,” Mr. Sharp said.
Marianne scrunched her brow. Her aunt in ill health? She had seen the woman not a month earlier, and the only condition she had was a drunken stare.
“Well, then perhaps when they return?”
“Of course,” her father said before giving Marianne a tiny smile. Although he had done it many times before, this smile was different. In it he hid something, a surprise.
“Well, I believe it is time for Marianne and me to return to the house,” her mother said as she looked up at the clear sky. “You know how bad the sun is for our skin.”
The two men bowed to Marianne and her mother as they walked away.
“Aunt Linda is ill?” Marianne asked with concern. “When did you learn of it? And why had you not told me?”
Her mother chuckled quietly. “You will understand shortly,” she said as they made their way back to the house.
***
Marianne and her mother returned to the parlor, and Marianne removed her gloves and placed them on the table beside the settee.
“Why is Father so cheerful?” Marianne asked. She found the nervousness she felt very unbecoming of a woman such as herself, and she was never one to enjoy waiting. Since a very young age she struggled with patience, and it was highly unlikely she would accept it anytime soon.
Rather than responding, her mother gave her a coy smile as she pulled the bell chord that would summon Charlene to them and said nothing, which only irritated Marianne all the more.
“Oh, mother, surely you can tell me something of what has caused Father’s excitement. I could see he has some sort of secret to tell.”
Her mother gave a light laugh. “My daughter, I do love you, but do not think I would not hesitate to sell you off to the first ship to America.”
“Mother!” Marianne gasped with feigned indignation. Mrs. Catherine Blithe had fiery red hair and a temper to match, a stark contrast to Marianne’s blond hair and calm demeanor. It was not that her mother was a harsh woman, but it did not take much to ignite it.
Now, however, Marianne knew her mother did not mean what she said. When Marianne was a young girl, she had threatened to run off on a passing ship to America when she was not allowed a sweet before supper, and thus the saying had become a loving barb between the two women once Marianne had grown.
“Here comes your father now,” her mother said, still refusing to acknowledge Marianne’s question. Marianne heard the heavy steps in the hall, and a moment later, her father entered the room and joined them by the fireplace.
“Sharp is a good man,” he said with a grunt as he sat in a dark-green wing chair. He had insisted that he have what he termed a ‘manly’ chair that could be his amongst the distinctively feminine mauves and blues the remaining seating exhibited, even if it did not match the décor one bit. “He is a bright boy with a fine future.”
These words caused Marianne’s stomach to clench. Was her father going to announce she was to marry the man? She certainly hoped not, for she barely knew him. Nor she did love him.
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p; “He is,” Marianne conceded. The man was a good man. “He will most certainly make a wonderful husband to some woman. However, that woman is not me. I am still searching for the right suitor, but I know for certain that man is not him.” She forced a rigidness in her back that she did not feel as she awaited her father’s inevitable rebuke.
Yet, that rebuke did not come, much to Marianne’s surprise. Instead, the man gave a heavy sigh and said, “Yes, I am reminded often that you seek the…what do you call it? ‘The love of your life’? Like the heroes in those books you read.” He accepted the cup of tea his wife offered him and took a sip. “Thank you, my dear. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes, love. Well, those characters do not exist in the world. You do understand that, correct?”
Marianne would never defy her father, for he was a good and kind man. Therefore she simply nodded, although she did not truly agree. They had had this same conversation on several occasions, and when she had disagreed with him, he would have none of it. What was the point of making the same arguments now? A handsome man awaited her somewhere; he simply had not had the chance to meet her as of yet. However, one day, he would come into her life and she would know immediately that he was the man she was to marry.
“George, perhaps you should explain to Marianne the purpose of this gathering,” Lady Blithe said.
Marianne set her teacup on the table to keep from spilling its contents down the front of her dress. She had to force herself not to wring her hands as she placed them in her lap.
Her father grunted, placed his teacup on the table beside where Marianne had just set hers, and placed his hands on his knees. “Marianne, as you know, I have run my business with the utmost dignity and fairness,” he began.
Marianne nodded. He did not speak any untruth. She knew no other man that had the integrity and honesty her father had when it came to business, or any aspects of his life. It was what she loved about him above all else.
“My dream has been to find property in London in order to expand my business further,” he continued. Then he smiled. “Well, that dream is about to come true.”
“Oh?” Marianne said, perplexed. What did this have to do with her? “I am happy for you, Father.” That was not an untruth either, but it also did not relieve the anxiety that ran through her stomach.
Her father stood and went to the unlit fireplace to lean against it. “The fact is, I will need your help in this matter.”
Tears of joy sprung up in Marianne’s eyes. For years she had told her father that if she was ever given the opportunity, she knew she could run her own shop, a millinery or a tea shop would have been a pleasant change of pace from sitting in the drawing room with her embroidery hoop every afternoon as she did on most days. Now, finally, after so many years, he would allow her the opportunity to do just that, and she could barely contain her excitement.
“Oh, Father,” she said, standing as she wiped at her eyes. “For so long I have shared with you my eagerness to learn. And although I do understand that society’s standards dictate that a woman should not run a business…” Her father made an attempt to interrupt, but she ignored him and continued on. She was far too excited to stop now. “You will not be disappointed. I will run your shop with the utmost care. I will make you proud.” She had never been so happy in all her life.
However, the feeling was short-lived as her mother reached up and took hold of her arm. “Marianne, do sit down,” the woman said, not in an unkind tone.
Marianne did as her mother bade as her father rubbed at his brow. That was not a good sign.
“You see, George,” her mother admonished, “I should have been the one to tell her.”
Her father sighed. “Once again, you are right,” he mumbled as he returned to his seat. “Very well, then, you tell her.”
Marianne had gone past the point of confusion, and now anger boiled up inside her. Nothing made sense and she still had no idea what they wished to tell her. “Mother, may I…”
“Just listen,” her mother said in that stern voice that brooked no argument. Then she took a deep breath before continuing. “Your father was in discussion with the Duke of Stromhedge before he passed away last month.”
“I remember,” Marianne said. The man had been quite old and a bit of a recluse from what she could recall.
“Arrangements have been made for your father to acquire the properties he needs.”
“I see,” Marianne said, although she did not fully understand. “And how will I be able to help?”
“What I am about to tell you is of the utmost secrecy,” her mother said, lowering her voice as if the walls had ears. “Not a word to anyone concerning this arrangement. Do you understand me? Not a single person can learn of it.”
“Mother, I am hardly one for gossip,” Marianne said with a laugh. Her mother’s eyes narrowed, however, and Marianne knew that the woman’s temper was nearing its pinnacle.
“I am quite serious about this, young lady. If your father loses this deal, we will be shamed beyond belief.”
Marianne looked over at her father, who sat in his chair solemnly, and then turned back to her mother. “I will not say a word to anyone,” she said with an added seriousness to her tone.
“Good,” her mother replied, the smile returning. “As you know, he lost his son several years ago and never had any other children. Well, after some searching, an heir has been found to take his title and to assume control over all of his business dealings. The problem is, the man has not been raised with either gentry or aristocracy, so we will be helping him in those matters.”
“I do not understand,” Marianne said with a shake of her head.
“You see, before the Duke can be introduced to the ton, he will need instruction on how to be a gentleman. Therefore, you and I will go to Silver Birch Estates in Chertsey to instruct him in his speech and how to conduct himself in public as a member of the aristocracy. In return, your father will earn the London properties as well as a sum of money he can use to start his new businesses.”
Marianne worried at her bottom lip. Was what they were telling her some sort of joke they were playing on her? The entire idea was so contrived she could not imagine it to be true. However, the serious looks on their faces showed her that what her mother had said was not a game.
“I understand,” she said, although she still was unsure what she felt about the matter. Looking at her father, she smiled. “And what of Mr. Sharp?”
“Well, with your help, I believe you will be very busy attending to your aunt for the time being and after that, you will be busy in London—much too busy to have Mr. Sharp calling.” He gave her a loving smile. “Then that leaves you to find this love you seek.”
Marianne could not believe her good fortune. Not only would she be free of Mr. Sharp’s attentions, but she would have the opportunity to show her father that she was responsible enough to help with his businesses.
“Excellent,” she said. “When do we begin?”
“In three days’ time,” her father replied as he pulled himself from the chair. “And remember, not a word to anyone.”
“Yes, Father, I understand. Not a single word.”
***
“I thought it was just a joke of sorts at first,” Marianne said as she sat in the garden with her best friend Julia Bevington two days later. “However, they were not joking at all! It is all true!” She still could not believe that she and her mother would be leaving for Silver Birch Estates the following day; it was as if each day was an eternity in its passing. Although she had sworn not to tell a soul, there were things men—or mothers—did not understand, such as the sharing of secrets between friends, and Marianne was certain that Julia would not say a word to another living soul. She had proven time and time again that she could keep any secret Marianne shared with her.
“Perhaps he means to marry you off,” Julia said as she plucked a leaf off a nearby bush. “If your father is desperate for money, it would not be the first time a father has sol
d off his daughter to better his business dealings.”
Marianne gasped. “Julia! What a horrible thing to say!”
“It is horrible,” her friend replied, “but perhaps it will not be that bad. Perhaps the new Duke is handsome and you will not want to leave.”
They giggled, and Marianne’s mother walked up to them. “What do you two ladies find so humorous?”
“Oh, nothing, Mother,” Marianne said.
Her mother gave her a look that showed she was not impressed. Marianne had more secrets to share with Julia, but with her mother close enough to hear, she held her tongue.
“I am sorry to hear about your aunt,” Julia said as if reading Marianne’s mind, a trait the two friends had shared since they were young. “Might I suggest we find a flower from the garden to give to her?”
“Thank you,” replied Marianne with ease. “And what a wonderful idea. Mother?”
“Very well, you have five more minutes but no more. We have much to ready before we are to leave tomorrow, and I will not be rushed because you dallied your time away choosing flowers that we could get from your Aunt Linda’s garden.”
“We will not be long, I promise,” Marianne replied, and she and Julia headed further into the garden to share their whispered conspiracies and enjoy the last few moments they would spend together for the unforeseeable future.
Chapter Three
William could not help but stare in utter amazement as he made his way around the massive house that made up the main residence of Silver Birch Estates. It was at least thrice the size of the house Lord Garvey owned, and although Mr. Ludlow had led him on a tour of the house that began an hour earlier, they still had so much more to see.
The main floor was comprised of a personal library, a parlor, a drawing room, a study, and a ballroom. On the first floor were the main bedrooms, including his, which included not one but three rooms altogether. The door from the hallway opened to a small entry room that Mr. Ludlow explained was a sitting room—his own sitting room!—which led to a bedroom bigger than an entire cottage and a large room that was to be his wardrobe. He gaped at the wardrobe, which was bigger than the room he and Thomas had shared back at Millweed Manor, that would house all of his clothes. Already it held more clothing than he had ever seen in his entire life, and yet it had all belonged to one man, his grandfather.
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