And George was as certain as he possibly could be that his own happiness depended on it entirely.
Chapter 17
“But it was romantic, Esme!” Jane said the following morning.
“I cannot believe we are still discussing this,” Esme said with a roll of her eyes, despite the fact that she was actually enjoying it all.
When Jane had chased her back into the house after her brief meeting with Mr. Wentworth, both women were excited. Even though she had argued with him, Esme had felt the romantic flames that Jane had confidently declared to be present.
“I just hope he does not take your tongue-lashing to heart. Perhaps even now he is vowing never to set eyes on you again,” Verity added in such a level tone that Esme and Jane laughed heartily.
“Oh, but what if he does?” Esme said. “I would wish I had never said it all except that I meant it. Oh, Jane, do you think he is gone forever?”
“No, of course not.” Jane was firm.
“There you are!” Their mother said, bursting unceremoniously into Esme’s room where all three sisters had been since breakfast. “Esme, you have a visitor. Did you not hear him approaching?”
“Oh, he is here!” Esme said excitedly. “But look at me! I must change. I cannot go down to him like this!”
“Come, I will help you,” Jane was already on her feet and opening the door to the tall wardrobe.
“There is no time, my dear. The Marquis seems awfully agitated,” Mrs. Colchester said hurriedly. “I think you must come now.”
“The Marquis?” Esme said with a horrified look.
“Who were you expecting?”
“I… I… well…” Esme looked desperately at Jane.
She had forgotten all about the Marquis of Longton. Her head had been so full of George Wentworth and her excitement at what she was so sure were blossoming feelings on both sides, that she had not thought of the Marquis once.
“I think you must see him, Esme. He might not be the most pleasant man at times, but he deserves to hear your answer face-to-face.” Her mother spoke knowingly and gently.
“My answer?” Esme was beginning to panic.
“You must realize this is why he has come. Just be honest with him, Esme.” Mrs. Colchester took her daughter’s arm and gently led her away.
By the time she reached the closed door to the drawing room, Esme felt decidedly unwell. She felt hot and flustered and heartily wished that she had never made her mind up to impress the Marquis of Longton at all.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” her mother asked gently.
“No, you are right. I must tell him the truth and I think it will be easier if we are alone. I do not want to humiliate him in front of others, even if he has chosen to do just that to me on more than one occasion,” Esme said, finding a little justification in her words which gave her a modicum more strength.
She gently pushed the door open and went inside, closing it behind her.
“Ah, Miss Colchester,” the Marquis said and smiled, although it was clear to Esme that he was certainly feeling nervous.
“Lord Longton,” Esme said and smiled briefly.
“You must be able to guess at my reason for being here today. I mean, I have never come to your father’s estate before.” He laughed, and it seemed his nervousness was growing.
“I do know why you are here, Lord Longton, and I must beg you not to ask the question you have come here to ask me.”
“But I have come here to ask you to marry me, Miss Colchester,” he said, and his sudden smile was a little too garish to be handsome.
“I realize that, My Lord. But I would beg you do not ask me, for I cannot agree to it.”
“You need not be concerned, I will speak to your father and I am certain that he will allow it.” He laughed and shrugged. “What father would not allow their daughter to marry a Marquis?” He looked around their drawing room, tiny in comparison to his own at Longton Hall, and Esme detected the vaguest hint of superiority.
If nothing else, it would give her the determination to do what must be done. It might not be Longton Hall, but her father’s home was a good one and Esme decided there and then that she would never set her sights on a man purely because of his title and status again. This was her mistake, and it was hers to rectify.
“My father would agree to anything I ask as long as it made me happy, Lord Longton,” Esme said in a firm but gentle tone. “But I am afraid that I do not believe that you and I would be happy together.”
“And why is that?” His tone changed so suddenly to one of annoyance that Esme was taken aback.
“Because of this, Lord Longton. Your moods are so changeable, and I could not spend my life one minute being admired and the next despised. It is not good enough that you continually apologize for your behavior towards me, for I cannot continually forgive it.”
“You take things too seriously, my dear. If it irks you so much, I can change it,” he said, and Esme realized that he was slowly but surely attempting to bully her into it.
“Either way, I would not be happy. I do not love you, Lord Longton, and I know that I never shall,” she said, knowing there was nothing for it but the absolute truth. “It is no good marrying for anything other than love. You have a very fine home, Sir, and a title to be proud of. But what I am looking for in my life is something very different.”
“Then you are a fool, Miss Colchester. Nobody will make such a fine offer to you again, you can be sure of that.”
“I know that you are angry, and I am sorry for it, but I never made you any promises. We were not courting, Sir, although I have been very pleased to be invited to your home and spend time with you and your kind mother. And even if we had got along better than we do, so soon a proposal was surely something that you could never have expected to be accepted.”
“I am a Marquis, I could ask a perfect stranger to marry me and she would,” he said with overblown pride.
“Then I wish you the best of luck, Lord Longton.”
“I do not wish you the same, and I promise you that I will make you a pariah wherever you go. You and your family will not enjoy such invitations as you have received in the last years, believe me.” And so, his mood swung again, showing the Marquis of Longton for the man he truly was.
“You must do as you must, Lord Longton. I do not appreciate such threats, but I cannot stop you from making them, nor can I stop you carrying them out. That is a matter for you and your conscience,” she said and turned to leave the room.
As she reached out for the door handle, the Marquis seized her wrist roughly. Esme tried to shake herself free and turned to look into his eyes.
“If you do not take your hands off me now, I shall shout for help. And then, when you are out of this house, your behavior will become known and I will make you a pariah,” Esme said and glared at him, her stare utterly unflinching.
“You will die an old maid, and you will deserve it,” he said petulantly as he released her, pulled open the door himself, and marched promptly out of the house.
Chapter 18
“Esme, Esme,” Verity said, bursting into her room the following morning with a curiously excited look on her face. “You must hurry up and get dressed.”
“Verity, that is what I am trying to do. Goodness, what has got into you?” Esme turned to give an amused look to her maid, Violet. “Go down and eat your breakfast and I will join you shortly.”
“There is no time for breakfast, Esme,” Verity said, holding out a sealed letter in front of her. “This was on the doormat when I went downstairs. It must be from him.”
Esme took the letter from her sister and peered at her name written in beautiful copperplate script on the front. She had seen that handwriting before, she knew it so well that she did not need to take out his last letter from its hiding place and compare the two. It was George Wentworth, she knew it.
“Well, open it,” Verity said urgently, surprising her sister with this most un-customary d
isplay of excitement.
Esme opened the letter, allowing Violet, who knew almost as much about the Colchester women’s lives as they did, to remain present. She was a kind young woman who had been in their service for many years and she had always kept the girls’ confidences.
“What does he say?” Verity asked in a hiss as Violet moved a little closer to her mistress.
“He is out in the woodland again and he wants me to meet him,” Esme said and could not keep her smile to herself.
“Well, it is my turn to come with you, Jane has already had her share,” Verity said firmly. “Come, you are dressed now, we will sneak out before breakfast.”
“You seem a little excited, my dear,” Esme said teasingly.
“I just want to see how this is all going to end,” Verity said and shrugged.
“Will I do, Violet?” Esme asked and looked herself up and down.
“You will do very well, Miss,” Violet said and gave her a warm smile of encouragement.
* * *
In no time at all, Esme and Verity had put on their cloaks and bonnets and darted across their father’s estate.
“Just think of it! Jane will be jumping up and down with annoyance. She is still asleep and I am out here getting all the news!”
“Verity, you really are naughty sometimes.” Esme laughed. “But I am glad you are here with me.”
“I wonder how long he has waited?” Verity asked in a whisper.
“Yes, perhaps he has been more than an hour,” Esme shuddered. “And it is awfully cold.”
“So, I should wait here? Out of the way?” Verity asked, coming to a standstill as soon as they were in the woodland.
“Yes, please. He is only there, you see?”
And sure enough, George Wentworth, wearing a heavy coat to guard against the cold of the autumn day, stood leaning against a tree. As soon as he saw her, he straightened up and bowed.
“Good morning, Mr. Wentworth. I must say, you are awfully early today,” Esme said, unable to stop herself from teasing him.
“Well, I could not sleep, Miss Colchester.” He looked so handsome with his ruffled fair hair and his pale blue eyes.
His mighty frame was no longer intimidating to her, rather it was something of a comfort and an attraction.
“Tell me, have you ridden all the way here from Buckinghamshire?”
“Ah, you know where I come from then?”
“It is all that Lady Rachel and Mrs. Dalton would give away. That you are a fine man and you come from Buckinghamshire.” Esme smiled and could see that the harsh words of their previous exchange had been forgotten.
“And if I invited you and your family to have afternoon tea with me in Buckinghamshire, would you come?” He took another step towards her until they were just inches apart.
“Yes, of course, I would.” Her voice sounded a little hoarse.
“Even though you do not really know me? Even though you do not know my station in life?”
“But I do know you, Mr. Wentworth. I know everything that is important. Not the things I used to think were so, but the things which truly are. And I know that I have never enjoyed company and conversation such as yours in my life. It does not matter to me where you live or how you live.”
“Then expect my invitation in the post, Miss Colchester,” he said and suddenly took her gloved hand in his and raised it to his mouth to kiss it.
Despite the encumbrance of the glove, Esme felt a wave of excitement ripple through her from head to toe.
The following morning, all three Colchester sisters were up early, dressed and awaiting the first post of the day. Amos, also up early but for very different reasons, looked at them askance when they walked into the dining room for an early breakfast.
“I am going hunting, dears, what is your excuse?” he said with a hearty chuckle as his sisters took their seats at the table.
“Nothing,” Esme said a little too quickly.
“Oh, so you are not waiting for the post then?” he asked, peering around his sisters to look out of the window. “Well, I suppose I shall make my way out and intercept it instead.”
“No!” Esme said and jumped to her feet, much to her brother’s amusement.
She dashed out of the dining room, through the little entrance hall, and out through the front door. By the time she reached the post carriage, she was breathless and red-faced. The driver looked down at her from his seat with confusion before jumping down and handing her the Colchester family post.
“Thank you so much,” Esme said with a bright smile, confusing the poor man further still before she turned and ran back for the house.
She ran all the way through the house until she was back in the dining room, flinging herself down into one of the chairs as she sorted through the handful of letters.
When she saw the beautiful copperplate script that she recognized so well, she dropped the remaining letters down on the table and hurriedly opened it.
“Forgive me, but is that not addressed to our mother and father?” Amos was on his feet and leaning over her shoulder.
“Yes, but it is meant for me,” Esme said, knowing that neither one of her parents would mind at all.
“Very well,” Amos said, still leaning over her to get the first glimpse at what was so exciting. “Although if it comes to it, I shall deny all knowledge of this moment.”
“Well? Is it the invitation?” Jane asked, gripping her teacup so hard it was a wonder the handle did not come clean of.
“It is,” Esme said, and her heart began to pound; she could hardly believe what she was reading.
“Read it out!” Verity said with exasperation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Colchester,
I would like to invite you and your family to Gorton Hall in Buckinghamshire on Wednesday of this week for afternoon tea. I should be very glad for your attendance and look forward to meeting you all.
Yours sincerely,
George Wentworth, The Duke of Gorton.”
Jane shrieked with excitement and Verity sat back in her chair with her mouth open wide. Esme looked up at her sisters, suddenly mute.
“I cannot keep up,” Amos said humorously. “One minute you have a Marquis proposing to you and the next you are invited to tea by a Duke. Goodness, you really have made a study of society, my dear.” He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “But I am glad you turned down the Marquis. You really are too good for him. Time will tell if the Duke of Gorton is good enough.”
“Oh, he is good enough. He was always good enough,” Esme said under her breath.
Chapter 19
“My goodness, but you have led us to some very fine homes lately,” Edward Colchester said with a laugh when he climbed down from their carriage in front of Gorton Hall. “Even the Marquis would be impressed with this.”
“I hardly know what to say,” Esme said as she stared up at more than a hundred windows like sightless eyes peering down at her.
She felt tiny standing there beneath so large a building, a little intimidated, and somewhat breathless. But she could understand now why it was that George Wentworth spent so much time in anonymity. What young woman would not give anything, say anything, to be mistress of such a place? Had she herself not been just such a woman before her experiences of life had taught her what was truly important?
A neat and very friendly looking butler appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling politely as he greeted them and showed them into the largest entrance hall that Esme had ever seen.
She was pleased that the Duke did not put on a ridiculous display of footman in fine livery and all the other pomp and ceremony that the Marquis of Longton had thought so necessary. And he was not waiting inside the drawing room but hovering outside as if it was important to him to somehow meet them halfway.
“Mr. Colchester.” The Duke bowed. “Please, do come in.” He ushered the family in and nodded to the butler who promptly left them. “I am sure that tea will be with us in no time.”
“You have a very fine home, Your Grace.” Edward Colchester bowed in response. “And it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir. And Mrs. Colchester. Welcome to Gorton Hall. I am very pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
“And I am pleased to meet you, Your Grace.” Mrs. Colchester was the same as she ever was.
She smiled warmly, was perfectly poised, and clearly at her ease.
After greeting her brother and sisters in the same vein, the Duke turned to Esme.
“I hope you are well, Miss Colchester,” he said with a smile, his pale blue eyes warm and amused. “It is a great pleasure to see you again and I am very pleased that you and your family have accepted my invitation.”
“And I am pleased to see you again, Your Grace,” she said and raised her eyebrows.
“Perhaps Mr. Wentworth?” he said and winced.
“Oh no, not at all,” Esme said in a teasing tone. “It is most definitely Your Grace.”
The afternoon tea seemed to fly by, the conversation never once running dry, and much merriment and amusement was enjoyed by all in the Duke’s retelling of his curious courtship of Esme Colchester.
After the invitation had been received, of course, Esme had been forced to admit everything which had passed between them to her mother. Mrs. Colchester claimed to have known that there was somebody in Esme’s heart all along, somebody who was most certainly not the Marquis of Longton.
With the afternoon tea finished and nobody seeming to want the day to come to an end, the Duke asked the family if they would care for a tour of his home. He assured them that it was a pleasure his housekeeper never rejected, claiming that she had been there longer than he had and likely knew more about it.
And so, the family followed an extraordinarily pleased housekeeper as she masterfully led them around all the wonderful sights to be seen at Gorton Hall.
“And there are some wonderful portraits in this room, Mr. and Mrs. Colchester,” the housekeeper said brightly. “It is just a shame that this room is little used, and they are hardly ever seen. But perhaps His Grace might consider bringing them out now and again, swapping them for some of the others.”
Love or Title: The Colchester Sisters Page 9