Love or Title: The Colchester Sisters

by Darcy, Charlotte

  “As you see, I am a very simple man,” George whispered to Esme as the two of them kept to the back of the group. “Simple enough that I am bullied daily by my housekeeper. I will, of course, rotate my portraits from now on.”

  “How very humble of you, Your Grace,” Esme said in a whisper.

  As the family followed the housekeeper into the side room to look at rarely-seen portraits, George gently took Esme’s arm and held her back. She turned to look at him and smiled.

  “Thank you, Esme,” he said in a whisper. “Thank you for not knowing who I was and liking me anyway.”

  “I suppose I am not the woman you thought I was. Although I cannot blame you for thinking it, for I was certain I was that woman myself.”

  “No, that was the reason I could not stop interfering. I do not know why, but I was certain that you were very different. And it looks as if I was right, does it not?”

  “Yes, it does,” she said.

  Without another word, he reached out to lay a large hand on her cheek and he kissed her just once on the lips. It was so fast that Esme wondered if it had happened at all. And yet despite the brevity, she could still feel the warmth his lips had left behind on her own and knew that she would enjoy many more such kisses in the years to come.

  Epilogue

  “So, what are we celebrating this time?” Edward Colchester said when the family and friends had taken their seats around the dining table at Gorton Hall. “There always seems to be something to celebrate.”

  “Well, they are already married, Papa, so it cannot be that,” Jane said, and Esme was certain that her most romantic sister had already perceived the reason for the family being called there on that day.

  “It most certainly is a celebration, Mr. Colchester, and I am glad that you are all here on this day.” George rose to his feet and lifted his glass in preparation of a toast.

  “Goodness, this is exciting,” Mrs. Colchester said, and if she realized the reason for the celebration too but was doing her very best to hide it.

  Esme knew that she had never been happier in her life. Married to George for more than a year now, she had never once regretted her decision to spend the rest of her life with him. He did not change at all, not even when he was finally declared to her as the Duke of Gorton. He was still just Mr. Wentworth, her beloved George. He was funny, he was clever, he was the most dreadful teaser.

  “Oh, George, you really are dragging this all out,” Lady Rachel Marlow said with humorous exasperation. “You like to play your part so well you really ought to be on the stage.” At which everybody began to laugh.

  “Oh, give him his moment, Rachel.” Mrs. Dalton, so integral a part in bringing the two lovers together, was also a much-treasured guest.

  Esme looked around the table at her wonderful parents, her fine brother and beautiful sisters, and her dear friends, Rachel and Constance, and felt truly blessed. She would never have imagined that finding herself with the title of Duchess would be the very least of all she had to be grateful for. She had even wondered if there was still anything left in the world to experience. And yet it seemed that happiness was drawn to her now like a moth to a flame.

  “All right, all right, I will get on with it,” George said to yet more amusement from around the table. “I had something of a speech prepared, but in truth it was a little long-winded and rambling, so I am just going to say the thing plainly.”

  “George,” Esme said with a sigh. “I wish you would.”

  “Very well,” he said, his time for teasing over. “I am so very pleased that you can all be here today with my wonderful, beautiful wife and I to celebrate the news that we are expecting our first child.”

  Esme felt tears spring to her eyes when the entire table erupted into effusive congratulations and surprise, despite the fact that they must surely have all realized long before George’s announcement.

  But it was just like all of them to throw themselves into Esme’s happiness and she only hoped, as she looked at her wonderful sisters, the women she missed so much day-to-day, that she would be able to return that wonderful favor one day.

  Now that she had everything in the world she wanted, all she could ask for was that her sisters would one day enjoy that same happiness.

  “Congratulations, my darling,” George said, leaning towards his wife as he took his seat again. “I do love you, Esme,” he whispered into her ear as the excited chatter reached its crescendo all around them.

  “And I do love you, Mr. Wentworth. I love you with all my heart.”

  “I promise you that I will always make you happy.”

  “I am sure it is a promise that will be easy to keep.” Esme smiled at her husband, her heart swelling with so much happiness she thought it might burst.

  * * *

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  * * *

  “I think I can quite understand your mother’s reservations about it all, Rebecca,” Oliver Brentwood spoke with a little caution.

  “Oliver, I cannot think that three small children in the parlor for a few hours a day is a problem. If learning to read is off-putting to any potential suitor my sister might find...” Rebecca Beaumont felt a little rankled by the notion. “Then she would be better off without him.”

  Of course, it was her mother, rather than Oliver, who had put her in a bad mood. Isadora Beaumont had been skirting around the subject for weeks and now, finally, she had turned to her husband to lay down the law. And, as always, she had tried to make it sound as if she had done her best for Rebecca, but that her father had been adamant. Only, Rebecca knew better than that.

  “What did your mother say?” Oliver was trying to sympathize but missing the mark somewhat.

  “She said that my sister has ambitions and that it was only fair they be realized.” Rebecca could hear her own dismissive tone. “Really, Diana is not at all ambitious. And even if she had such notions, I would never do anything to upset her plans.”

  “I know how dear your sister is to you.” Oliver smiled.

  “I mean, really, it is not as if Diana would be entertaining potential suitors in the parlor, is it?” Rebecca blew out a great puff of air in what she immediately realized was not a particularly ladylike fashion.

  “I think it is just the idea of it all. I do not think for a moment that your mother imagines that the son of a baron, or whomever it is who finally comes calling upon your sister, will stumble upon the three ragged little children you teach. I think she is likely just concerned that news of it might reach them, that is all. But then, I suppose it is hardly a secret that you run a little dame school, is it?”

  “No, it is not a secret. But I do not see why it ought to be. When did it become a crime to harbor a wish to help those less fortunate?”

  “It is not a crime, my dear, not even in the best of society. But charity is more acceptable in its fundraising form for young ladies, rather than in its practical form. Could you not turn your hand to something of that nature instead? After all, you would still be helping people.” Oliver shrugged, and Rebecca could not help but feel a little patronized; she always did when he called her my dear.

  Whilst Rebecca knew that fundraising was an important part of charity work, it was not that which gave her the greatest satisfaction. She had been educated very well and was grateful for it. She always wanted to find ways to share that education with people who had not been quite so fortunate.

  Nothing had given her greater pleasure than to teach the three young pupils who arrived at her family home, Wisteria Manor, three mornings every week. They were poor children, although not as desperately poor as others in the largely rural community. More than that, they were so eager for the gift of reading that they listened with such rapt attention every day. Rebecca fel
t sure that she had not paid such attention at that age, when she had been receiving a very much fuller education than they were.

  They were an inspiration to her and she could not bear the idea that there would be no place for them to continue their learning.

  “I would not be helping in the same way. There are more than enough young ladies who busy themselves with gathering the funds, but how many of them do anything to really help? And who is going to teach Violet, Robert, and David now that my mother has successfully closed the door in their faces?” Rebecca could not hide her anger and anguish.

  “I am afraid that there is nothing that I can do about it, Rebecca,” Oliver said, looking somewhat pained to be the person on the receiving end of her annoyance.

  “Forgive me, Oliver.” She turned to look at him and smiled apologetically. “I suppose it is all very raw at the moment and I am still angry with my mother.” Rebecca cast her eyes down the long lawn to where her mother and sister were clipping late spring blooms, much to the consternation of their gardener.

  “You are forgiven, Rebecca.” Oliver cast a quick look down the garden also before hurriedly taking Rebecca’s hand in his own for a moment and squeezing it.

  Rebecca knew that she ought not to take things out on Oliver. After all, he had always appeared to be most supportive in everything that she wanted to do. He had been courting her for almost a year and never once had he openly objected to her ideas regarding the education of poor children.

  Oliver was a handsome young man, tall and slim with pale blond hair and beautiful green eyes. He had a keen, intelligent face, which had appealed to her greatly when they first met. He was from a family as wealthy as her own. The two of them looked set to have a happy and comfortable future together and Rebecca felt sure it was only a matter of time before the two of them became engaged formally.

  “And I cannot think that Papa has any real objection to the three children coming to Wisteria Manor. He has always seemed so very keen to hear the details of the lessons and to find out how they are getting along. I can only imagine that my mother has talked on and on about the thing, determined to have her way until finally he has given in. Even Diana did not seem to have any particular objection. In fact, she seemed quite surprised when I told her that Mama had got her way and my dame school was finished.”

  “Yes, but Diana cares a great deal for you, however different the two of you are,” Oliver said brightly, and she knew it to be true. “At least the two of you have not fallen to arguing about the thing, at any rate. Diana is simply following your mother’s instructions in the art of finding the most suitable husband imaginable.”

  “That is what Diana wants more than anything, and I would not begrudge her it, really I would not. She has such a kind and sweet nature and I feel sure that she felt a little dismayed at the plight of the three children.”

  “I do not see how they are suffering any more than they had been before you had begun to teach them, Rebecca. After all, having the ability to read would not have been anything that either they or their parents would have expected out of life, is it?”

  “But do you not see the unfairness of that? Do you not see how cruel it is that a person, simply by dint of their circumstances at birth, is denied that most basic pleasure? The world is closed to a person who cannot read, Oliver, because they do not even have the faintest chance of improving themselves.”

  “But that is the way of things, Rebecca. That is how society works and I think there is very little that you can do about it. I admire your heart, truly, but I do not think that you can change a system that has been in place for hundreds and hundreds of years. Probably has always been in place, if we are honest about it.”

  “I am sure that I cannot change everything, Oliver, but perhaps I can change a little. Perhaps I can look about me and change what I see. It is not much, granted, but if there were more people willing to do it, things would change. That is what change is all about.”

  “And what am I to do whilst you are changing all that you can see about you?” Oliver asked, and Rebecca saw a look on his face she had not seen before.

  “I would not neglect you, Oliver. Surely you must know that.”

  “But I would never be first, would I?” He seemed genuine in his argument, so much so that Rebecca felt a little sense of disquiet.

  “Of course, you would.” She smiled at him broadly, fully expecting that he would return her smile.

  When he did not, Rebecca began to wonder what he really thought of all that she wanted to do in the world. “We would be side-by-side, Oliver.”

  “Side-by-side in what?” Oliver still looked serious.

  “I am determined not to give up, despite my mother’s best efforts at making me do just that.” Rebecca smiled excitedly, determined to tell him of the plan which had been growing ever larger in her mind since her little schoolroom in the parlor had ceased to exist.

  “I do not see how you can go against her, especially not when your father has now taken her part.”

  “I do not mean to return to the parlor with just three little pupils. I should like to try for something a little bigger, something that will benefit very many more of the poorer children in the outlying villages.”

  “How so? What do you intend to do?”

  “I thought I might try to secure a building. Not to purchase it, you understand, but to find an old building that is unused and offer to pay rent on it.”

  “For what purpose?” Oliver seemed a little suspicious and Rebecca hardly knew whether she ought to continue.

  “Oliver, I have lately read a piece published by a man called Samuel Wilderspin. It is called On the Importance of Educating the Infant Poor, and it is a most inspirational read.”

  “Who is Samuel Wilderspin?”

  “He is an English educator and he believes that children ought to learn through a variety of experiences, even including play, to develop their intelligence and refine their feelings. He is trained in infant education and has lately begun a little school in Spitalfields in London with his wife, Ann. It is a school that is run for the poor children of the area and it is entirely free.”

  “So, it is a Ragged School, so to speak?”

  “No, it is very different from the system of ragged schools,” she continued tentatively. “It provides a somewhat more formal education, introducing subjects beyond reading. It would include arithmetic and some simple mathematics and other subjects of interest. Perhaps even some history. From what I have read, it is a most thorough system.”

  “And you intend to emulate that here?” Oliver did nothing to hide his incredulity.

  At that moment, Rebecca felt crestfallen. With only his tone, it seemed to her that Oliver was clearly telling her that he did not believe for a minute that she could manage such a thing.

  She had truly hoped that he would have been more interested in what she had to say, in fact, she had almost been convinced that he would be. After all, he had been kind and sympathetic when she had told him of the loss of her little dame school and she had assumed that he would be pleased for her to have alighted upon an idea even better with which to replace it.

  “Yes, I think it is something certainly worth aspiring to.” Rebecca felt unsure of herself, as if she ought not to tell him any more about it.

  Of course, when she had first read Wilderspin’s publication and found out a little more about the school he had set up himself, she had been inspired by the fact that he had worked alongside his wife to ensure its smooth running. From that moment, Rebecca had been convinced that Oliver would be only too pleased to help her, to support her in a very much more practical way from now on.

  Perhaps she had allowed too many little fantasies of a happy husband and wife building up a small, free school of which they could be inordinately proud. She had assumed that Oliver Brentwood would think such an endeavor extraordinary and worthwhile. It had never occurred to her that she would find herself wondering whether she ought to even mention it t
o him. She wanted to ask, but she did not want to hear his answer if it was to be no.

  “That is quite an aspiration, my dear. After all, did you not say that this Samuel Wilder, or whatever is name is?” He looked at her for confirmation.

  “Wilderspin,” she said simply.

  “Did you not say that this Samuel Wilderspin is trained in infant education? You are educated, certainly, but are you sure that you are educated to such a degree?”

  “I am content that I have wit and intelligence enough, Oliver. It is not a simple thing to teach a person to read and yet I have managed it more than once. I agree that teaching is an art, but it is one that I think I could master very well. And as for my knowledge, I was fortunate enough to be very well educated. My father saw to it and I am very grateful.” Rebecca felt a little as if she were defending herself and she did not like the position.

  Oliver’s countenance seemed to have darkened a little and she wondered if he really was as pleased to be courting an intelligent young lady as he had always claimed to be. Perhaps he had simply tolerated the idea of the dame school because, to him, it might well have seemed a little hobbyist. Nothing more than a dilettante flailing about for a short-lived purpose, a fleeting interest that would soon be discarded.

  “And would you not find it difficult to teach a larger group of children? After all, you have managed no more than three so far, have you not?”

  “I have only taught three because that was all there was room for in the parlor here at Wisteria Manor. Had I the room for more, I would most certainly have taken them.”

  “You have a good heart, Rebecca, and I am sure that you would have taken in as many children as you could fit. But that is not my question. My question is could you manage to teach more than three? It is not a question of space, my dear, but rather one of maintaining the interest of so many children. In small quantities, I am sure that they behave very well indeed but have you considered how difficult it might be to contain a class of very many more children, especially poor children.”