Be quiet, she told herself lest he become upset and change his mind. Just being away from the noise and dust of the factory made this day extremely special.
He scowled at her. “Is there anything at the orphanage you would miss?”
She frowned, then shook her head as she patted the pocket of her dress, “I have Papa’s letter and Mama’s comb here. I couldn’t risk leaving them.” She didn’t tell him that she also had the letter that he had written Mama telling her how sorry he was about Papa’s death. His letter provided details, talked of her father’s bravery and sacrifice for others, about how dozens of men were alive today because of her father’s actions.
Emily would have gladly traded them all for one more time to be held in her father’s arms.
“Good,” he said obviously referring to her lack of items at the orphanage. “You mentioned your father’s letters. Do you read?”
“Yes Sir,” she said as she drew up. Her heart continued to pound with worry, but she was determined not to show fear. Her father would have been disappointed in her, if she had.
“That seals it then. Aunt Martha will be pleased.”
What? Who?
“You will live with my Aunt Martha.”
Her hopes soared, a maid. She was to be a maid in a fine house. She would be given regular meals and if she was lucky, she would share a room with only two or three other girls. Unlike the two dozen at the orphanage.
“I will be the best maid in England,” she assured him.
He frowned back at her. “No daughter of Sergeant Winslow will be a mere maid. No, my Aunt is in need of a companion. Or at least she will be, when I tell her.”
Her world shifted. Lady’s companion. That was reserved for fine, but impoverished ladies. No simple mill girls.
“I wouldn’t worry,” the Major said. “Aunt Martha is one of my better relatives. Almost tolerable. You will be fine.”
“But …”
He waved his hand. “Yes, you are young for the job. But we must do what we must. And Aunt Martha will do this. I assure you.”
Emily’s insides felt all skittery as she tried to understand how her world had shifted. From nowhere, this tall handsome Major dressed in his fine red uniform had marched onto the factory floor and rescued her from a miserable life. Her heart fluttered as she studied him from beneath her brow.
Later that early evening, the coach pulled into the long drive of a small manor just outside of Ettington. Emily swallowed hard as she looked up at the large house. There must have been a dozen glass windows and three Chimneys, each puffing out black smoke. Green ivy climbed the gray walls. The building looked so big and imposing.
The Major gave her a quizzical look then shook his head. Her heart fell. He hadn’t said a word since announcing she would be a Lady’s companion. It had taken every bit of will power not to pester him with a thousand questions.
No. Even she knew it was better to be quiet with adults. Especially a man like this. If he wished to know something, he would ask. Otherwise, she was to be quiet and stay in her corner. No, she would have to wait until this new world revealed itself.
Clenching her jaw, she kept her hands folded in her lap and held her tongue. No, a man like the Major wouldn’t want to hear the prattle of a little girl.
“Aunt Martha,” the Major said surprising her out of her study of her new home. “Lady Denton is my mother’s sister and rather eccentric. She actually prefers living out here in this drafty old house instead of London.”
Emily almost gasped. This house was drafty? The man had never spent the night in a Birmingham orphanage. She could have sworn the winds knew every hole and crease. And how to find her bed.
“Yes Sir.”
He laughed and turned to wrap on the front door. An older woman, obviously a maid opened the door and frowned down at them.
“Please inform Lady Denton that her nephew, Lord Greenville is here.”
The maid blanched for a second then looked down at Emily. The young girl’s insides crawled over themselves at the look of disdain in the maid’s eyes. She knew what the woman saw. A gangly girl dressed in threadbare cloth. Thank God she had been allowed to clean herself at the change of the horses. But she was positive she had been unable to remove all of the grime.
“Duncan,” a voice called from inside. “Is that you?” a woman asked as she pulled the door from her maid’s hand. Emily studied her future employer closely as she fought to stop her hands from shaking. Old, well past forty. Maybe even as much as fifty but it was difficult to tell as she had met so few ladies of that age. Did the nobles age differently? she wondered.
With more gray hair than not. Warm brown eyes. She held herself stiff and straight with a regal bearing that made it look like the whalebones of her corset had been fused together.
Her lavender dress fell perfectly without a wrinkle or blemish. Emily wondered how it was possible to go through life without wrinkling such a fine dress. It seemed she herself couldn’t make it an hour without dirt finding her garments.
The woman smiled widely when she recognized the major then pulled him into a tight hug. “I knew you would come home,” she said as she continued to hold onto him.
The Major coughed and tried to pull away but the woman refused to let him go. His face actually began to turn red with embarrassment at all the attention. But the older woman didn’t seem to care as she leaned back to look into his eyes as if to make sure he was really there.
Immediately, Emily felt an affection for the woman. Any person who cared for the Major was a good person in her world.
“Aunt Martha,” he said as he finally extricated himself from her grip. “May I introduce, Miss Emily Winslow. Your new Lady’s Companion. Emily, Lady Denton.”
Lady Denton’s brow creased with obvious confusion as she looked at Emily then back at the Major silently asking for an explanation.
“I need a drink,” he told her. “I will explain after I’ve quenched a fierce thirst.”
Emily felt as if she were standing on ice and the wrong move would have her falling, embarrassing herself. What did this woman think? What would happen after the Major left? Obviously, the man wasn’t staying here.
Suddenly, remembering her manners, she dipped into a curtsey. Her mother would have been appalled at her tardiness.
A thousand new fears filled Emily’s stomach. Was she really going to live here now? The thought seemed so preposterous. But there could be no other explanation. Lady Denton waved them inside. Emily held her breath as she stepped into the house. The smell of bee’s wax and lamb stew greeted her making her stomach rumble. Her last meal had been a bit of stale bread and cold porridge early that morning.
On a side table, a crystal vase with fresh flowers. A fancy portrait of a stern-looking man in funny clothes on the wall made her jaw drop. It was true, the rich were different. A long staircase led to the upper floor, with more paintings on the wall.
The floors were wood with no chinks or dips. Polished to a high gloss. It must take a dozen servants to keep them that way, she thought with amazement.
“In here,” Lady Denton said as she opened a door into what Emily supposed was what was called a parlor. A flowery carpet covered most of the floor. Sturdy chairs with thick cushions were placed around the fire. Emily made sure to step aside and stay on the wooden portion of the floor. She would surely be reprimanded if she walked on such a fine carpet. What if she got it dirty with her mill dust?
“You know where the decanter is,” Lady Denton said to the Major as she pointed to the marble mantel above the fire then turned to study her.
The Major sighed heavily as he poured himself a drink and took a long sip.
“Now then,” Lady Denton began. “What is this about me needing a companion. I assure you I am not so far gone nor feeble of either mind or body. I’ll have you know I danced a jig at this spring’s jubilee, several in fact.”
The Major laughed. “Aunt Martha. You will bury us all. I am well aware.
”
“Then why? I do hope you have a good reason to thrust this upon me. After all, she is rather young for such a position. And, as I said, I am in no need.” She then turned to Emily and gave her a small smile. “Nothing personal of course, my dear.”
Emily could only nod as a sick feeling filled her. She was not to live here after all. Would the Major at least return her to the orphanage? Or, was she to be left by the side of the road to find her own way?
The Major took another long sip of his drink. “Miss Winslow is an orphan. Her father saved my life, twice. The last time sacrificing his own. I gave him my word that his family would be cared for. It is a matter of honor. If not you, then I will have to foist her upon John and she doesn’t deserve that. I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.”
Lady Denton’s eyes grew very big then she again turned back to Emily and smiled. “Welcome my dear. I am sure we will get along famously.”
Chapter Three
Emily glanced at the letter on the table and sighed. He was still alive. Or had been when he wrote the letter. She would know his strong masculine hand anywhere. Steady, clear. The handwriting of a man in charge.
A sense of joy filled her. Not a day these last four years had gone without her saying a prayer for the Major to be watched over. A small part of her had always believed it was her prayers that kept him well.
Four years. It was amazing, she thought to herself as her fingers ran down her day dress. Who would ever have believed Alice Winslow’s daughter would wear such fine dresses and live in such a beautiful house.
Of course, she thought with a sudden sadness, she would have traded it all for the return of her mother.
Taking a deep breath, she allowed her fingers to slowly caress the letter, then jumped when the door opened and Lady Denton arrived.
“Sinclair tells me a letter has arrived, along with the London newspapers,” Lady Denton said.
“Yes, My Lady, from Lord Greenville,” Emily said, having to remind herself to use his formal title. But deep inside she would always think of him as ‘the Major.’
“Well girl, what are you waiting for? You know I can’t decipher the man’s chicken scratch.”
Emily turned away so that Lady Denton wouldn’t see her smile. It wasn’t the Major’s penmanship, as she well knew, but the fact that Lady Denton refused to use her new spectacles. The older woman insisted they didn’t work, but Emily had heard the woman mumble to herself that the glasses made her look like a blind duck.
Her heart jumped as she retrieved the letter and slit the seal. He wrote so rarely. What would he tell them? Was he returning at last? Again, her heart jumped with hope as she paused and thought about all he had gone through over these last four years as she wondered why he hadn’t returned when his Regiment was posted back to England.
Instead, he had chosen to visit the Americas. Escaping from Boston. just before war had been declared on the United States.
Now, once again his Regiment was stationed in Portugal. She wondered if he had rejoined his comrades. Her father’s old regiment. How many of her father’s friends and fellow soldiers still survived? she wondered.
“Emily,” Lady Denton barked. “If you don’t hurry I will surely faint. What does he have to say?”
Scrambling, Emily opened the letter and took a deep breath before she began to read.
“My Dearest Aunt Martha,” she began. A quick glance over to Lady Denton found the older woman with a broad smile.
“I pray this letter finds you doing well,” Emily continued. “I myself remain largely intact and without significant holes or fractures.”
Emily let out a long breath. He was unhurt. Although, what did he mean by largely and significant?
Lady Denton also let out a long breath of relief, then smiled for her to go on.
“… I write with not much to report. The summer heat grows worse, the men grumble, but remain strong and resolute. Wellesley has us hopping and always ready for Mr. Napoleon…”
“He is not coming home anytime soon,” Lady Denton said as she sighed heavily and sat down, obviously distressed.
Emily took a deep breath to continue. “… John informs me that the estates are doing well despite the troubles they cause him. Do not inform him that I believe he enjoys to wallow in the burdens placed upon him. Heavens, he must spend several hours a week having to discuss matters with his agents. Always with a drink in his hand I am sure. Oh, the difficulties he must face. …”
“Cheeky bugger,” Lady Denton mumbled under her breath, then glanced up quickly to see if Emily had heard.
Emily wisely remained impassive. She had learned long ago to ignore Lady Denton’s outbursts for both of their wellbeing and to avoid embarrassing her employer.
Returning to the letter in her hand, she continued, “… I must thank you for the handkerchiefs. The embroidered initials matched the Regimental colors exactly. I was most impressed. As was my batman, Corporal Jones. Although, something tells me it was the young hands of Miss Winslow that pulled the thread…”
Emily gasped. He had recognized her work. What is more, if the colors matched, then he had rejoined the regiment. He had not been posted to a safe headquarters job as she had hoped. No, the Major had returned to the front and the fighting.
“Go on,” Lady Denton instructed as she turned to stare out the window.
Emily took a deep breath as she fought to hold back a tear. “… I will close for now. Do write, words from home are always enjoyed. Hopefully, we will be reunited soon. This Frenchman can’t last forever, he has upset too many people. Until then, please take care.”
“Greenville”
Emily gripped the letter tightly as her hands fell to her side. She knew she would reread the letter many times. Searching, analyzing, hoping for some hint as to the truth. But for the moment, she would allow the emotions to wash over her. He was well. Yet he remained in danger. A mishmash of thoughts and feelings flowed through her as she thought about the Major.
Lady Denton let out a long breath and nodded slightly. “He sounds tired.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Emily responded. “I imagine he is.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as the two of them thought of the man and what he must be facing.
“My writing desk,” Lady Denton called as she sat up straight with a determined look to her eyes.
Emily forced herself to return to the present as she hurried to retrieve the portable writing desk and bring it to the parlor.
Lady Denton pointed to a chair with a hand that shook a little more than normal. Emily’s chest constricted with worry. The shaking had become worse over the last few weeks, but Lady Denton refused to call a Doctor.
Emily sat down with the table across her lap. She had been conducting Her Ladyship’s correspondence for the last year.
“Dear Duncan,” Lady Denton said without preamble.
Emily dipped her quill in the ink well and scrambled to write. She knew she would rewrite the letter before sending it. Being sure to make it look presentable.
“I am glad to find you doing well,” Lady Denton continued. “We also are in fine spirits. The summer is milder than usual and the farmers complain that it will be difficult to get in the hay because of the recent rains...”
Bending over the writing-table, Emily fought to capture every word.
“… As for your brother, you are too harsh. The man is a Duke after all. Speaking of which, I have determined that he will sponsor Miss Winslow for a season. Two if necessary…”
Emily gasped. “My Lady?” A sudden fear filled her. They hadn’t discussed this. There had been no hint. How? Why? A London season? The balls, the Lords and Ladies? It seemed too much.
Lady Denton smiled softly then pointed to the paper for her to continue. “… She is a remarkable young woman. But she should not waste her life caring for an old biddy such as myself…”
“My Lady,” Emily said as she shook her head.
Lady Denton conti
nued to smile. “… It is my hope to find her a rich merchant’s son or perhaps a well to do Baron. I am led to believe there might be several available this season…”
As she wrote, Emily fought to hold back the questions and fears flashing through her. A season? How was she to ever navigate that world?
“… Besides,” Lady Denton continued. “I wish to hone my matchmaking skills for your return. Heaven knows, a British Lord and war hero will be in need of a wife. There is the daughter of an Earl that I believe you would find more than acceptable. But you must hurry and end this blasted war if I am to do my best work…”
Emily focused on the paper as her stomach turned over. So many things were changing.
“… In the meantime, I will need your help in convincing John to offer a dowry for our Emily. Not too much of course, but enough to attract the right suitors …”
Unable to remain quiet any longer, Emily stopped writing and looked at her employer with a furrowed brow. “My Lady, this is too much. It isn’t right.”
Lady Denton laughed and waved her hand in dismissal. “The first lesson you must learn, My Dear, is to never question your seniors. It is unbecoming. And almost always unwise.”
“My Lady…” Emily began.
“Not now,” Lady Denton said, “we will discuss it later. Let us finish the letter.”
Emily took a calming breath and dipped her quill again before raising an eyebrow, indicating she was ready to continue.
“… That is my news for now. I will write again when the details are finalized. I assume we will stay with John in London. He doesn’t know yet so do not say a word. Allow me to work on him. If the initial request comes from you, he will balk. If it is from me, he will see the wisdom eventually. As he well knows. His life is so much easier when he follows my guidance in these matters.
“You will remain in our prayers. Please end this war soon.”
“Aunt Martha.”
Emily swallowed hard as she looked down at the paper on the desk. A season, it seemed so impossible. What would the Major think about it? Would he be happy for her? Or, think it a frivolous waste. What would he think if he were to see her in a fancy gown?
A Duke's Decision (The Duke''s Club Book 4) Page 2