The Companion of Lady Holmeshire

by Debra Brown

  The coachman already knew where to go after helping them into their seats. Wills sat uncommonly near Genevieve, but she felt comforted and protected by him. Her sense of safety, and Wills’ silence, moved her to talk to him of her troubles.

  “Mama mentioned that I am followed. You should know that it is true. I am unaware of any cause and am frightened.”

  “You are a lovely young lady. Someone is, perhaps, wishing for an introduction. Is the gentleman alone?”

  “The horrid man is alone, when watching me, but not alone in the practice. It has happened several times, and with two or three individuals, separately. I never leave the house, now, without at least two guardians besides my chaperone.

  “I see! And what has been done to discover the intent? Has your Papa searched it out?”

  “He has simply ordered the steward to be sure that I am protected and has forbidden me to go out alone. I must have the two largest footmen with me. But he behaved strangely; my impression is that he knows something about it, and that it worries him.”

  As Wills thought the matter over, quite puzzled and concerned himself, Genny began to notice a change in the scenery. The carriage took a few turns, and she had to ask.

  “Please, Wills, tell me where we are going?” She was beginning to see that they were leaving her wonderfully privileged existence and heading for a different world. The smiles and laughter that had enveloped them at Handerton faded to expressionless faces in poorly kept streets around them. People were standing still, as though they had no place to go and nothing to do. Most stared and followed the carriage with their eyes; many held out their hands for something, anything.

  Finally they arrived at a street corner, where she was surprised to see a number of well-dressed gentlemen among the ragged, forlorn people. The carriage stopped. Wills stepped out and held out a hand to Genevieve. She dismounted with hesitation, with fear on her face and thoroughly puzzled. She again looked to him for an answer.

  “Here, my dear, is the world that I am fighting to heal. My friends, these gentlemen, have come to walk with us, to provide you with protection and to learn more about my concerns.”

  None of them had the spirit to greet her or speak, for they were already disconsolate. They all together began to walk. They passed dirty children, huddled together, with some sleeping on the road’s edge. They saw children carrying small, tangled loads— all that they owned. They passed a few tearful children, but for most, what was the point? They were beyond crying.

  Genny closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to relieve her heart of its ache. There were women and men, and there were families. Many had collected scrap to sell, or picked a few flowers from some park that they offered. Some people were half dressed for the cool weather; bigger, stronger men had more belongings. Three children were living inside one large coat and being watched over by their father, who was missing an arm. She asked for his name, but what could she do?

  Several people asked for money or food. Wills and the gentlemen handed out many coins; one man thanked them, but asked candidly what he was to do when his money was gone!

  They passed a small building of rotting wood, without a door on the opening. Inside, without furnishings, were huddled about 20 people in several family groups, some peeking, frightened, around the walls. One woman sang, soft and low, a nonsensical, melancholy song; Genevieve sympathetically nodded to her, but then felt like a hypocrite. What good was a nod?

  A few rowdy drunkards passed through the area, alarming people. A loud preacher exhorted any who passed to fear for their salvation, and some boys were being chased up a tree by an angry woman. A young lad swept some horse dung out of their path, and he held out an open palm.

  A man saw the cluster of gentlemen and hurried his family across the street to ask desperately for work, promising absolute honesty and hard work should there be a position for him. One of the gentlemen stopped to talk with him, and Genny hoped with all her heart that the man would be given a position. He looked strong enough, clear minded and was certainly more than willing to work, she realized.

  What could she do? Could she somehow help these people? Or was a lady truly to keep her hands clean of it?

  A woman, sitting in the grass, cried out as the group was about to pass. “Ma’am, ma’am!” Genevieve, startled and concerned, looked in her direction. “My...my baby was born today, out here in the wind and rain,” she cried out, “and I cannot warm him enough out here; he’ll die, ma’am. Please, what can I do?”

  Genny’s concern became horror! She walked toward her hurriedly, her mandated refinement beginning to falter and lose its hold. She drew near to the newly delivered, shivering woman with pleading eyes. She looked, dismayed, at the baby. Genny froze in astonishment, for a moment, but then took off her lush cloak and wrapped it around them to trap the mother’s lifesaving warmth around her child.

  “If only I could be sure you would be safe with it! That nobody would take it from you!” It was an expensive cloak and could bring good money. How could she protect her?

  “I’ll take care of her, ma’am,” announced a teenage boy, who was standing near, “She is my mum, and I’ll watch over them.” He was a thin boy, but spoke with such conviction that Genny, though at first hesitant, began to feel reassured. This lad was intent; he would certainly do his best. She reached out a hand and pulled him nearer his mother. She obtained a few coins from Wills, gave them to the youth and told him that his Mama would need good, healthy food to eat in order to care for that baby. Still, Genny felt their help to be so short lived that it was all but in vain. What would become of this lowly family?

  The woman burst into tears and expressed profuse thanks to both her and Wills. “I’ll work again, soon ma’am, as soon as I have my strength back,” she vowed. “I really will. I’ll find us a little place. I’ll work hard.” Genevieve prayed from a bleeding heart that she would live that long and turned away. She wished to forget.

  “It is enough, Wills, I’ve seen enough. My presumption is broken; take me away!” she importuned.

  But as they walked away, her strength began to build and her mind to churn. She gradually developed a new look, a new bearing. Lord Holmeshire proudly saw the emergence of a true lady from a paradigm that was being shed. He waved, and his carriage came; he nodded his thanks to the army of gentlemen that had surrounded them, and they rode away. Genevieve sat looking straight ahead, deeply in thought, in her seat.

  “I’m sorry, my dearest. I needed to bring you here to see what I am working for,” he offered, hopefully expecting a positive reply as he coaxed her forward to put his coat around her shoulders.

  “I do now understand what you are working for. And I will be doing what you are doing. With my whole heart.” Wills heaved a huge sigh of relief; what he had surmised from her expression was true; she had said it herself.

  He expressed appreciation that they could be united in this effort, that this would truly bring them together. She could speak, though absently, of nothing but the mother and child until they approached Handerton House, and she became quiet and pensive again as they rode up the majestic drive. Wills then spoke.

  “How would you have me dress for your Ball, my Faerie Queen?”

  Her concern and thoughtful state was momentarily overthrown; she looked up at him. “Oh, Wills, I did not think you would care to attend!”

  “Let us make an agreement; we will marry and work very hard always to help the people,” he said, “And then, with a clear conscience, we will go to a lovely party and forget these dismal things for the night.” She smiled broadly.

  As he walked her to the ivy-covered entrance of the house, he said, “I will not have you depressed by it, but rather, empowered to help, such that your spirits will be lifted, and you can thoroughly enjoy dancing and eating and drinking with your friends. And we will always send out what is left over for the poor and hungry.”

  “We surely will,” she concurred. As he delivered her back to the humid Palm Room an
d her curious workmates, she could hardly turn her mind back to Midsummer Night’s Dream, but had thoughts of small baskets full of food and piles of warm blankets for the poor. She failed to even hear his next words to her.

  “I have met with the designer, you know, and unpacked huge boxes of supplies. The designer heard my needs and has come to London to work on a variety of arrangements.” He leaned in toward her, trying to get her attention. “I had hoped, by now, to have some drawings to share with you, Genevieve, and see which plans you preferred. However, it is taking more time than I expected. I shall send a message as soon as they arrive, though, and we could arrange a date to sit down together with him and consider the choices. I shall certainly wish to have your impressions.” This assured the Marchioness, wrongly, that there had been a proposal.

  “My impressions on what?” Genevieve returned to the present.

  “On the designing of Holmeshire Hall,” Wills declared. “Someone please tell her what I said. I am late to return to a meeting. Goodbye to all, and please make plans to receive me frequently!”

  Such relieved faces had never before been seen until they began to alter, becoming troubled and inquisitive at Genny’s countenance. She had sunk into a chair as he bowed and left, and she now appeared thoroughly lost to them all. To her, Holmeshire Hall was an extravagance, marble and all, and it was quickly forgotten.

  Curiosity was devouring her mother and friends; they watched her intently, waiting to hear something that made sense. “Genny!” said Lady Breyton, confused, picking up her daughter’s hand to check for an engagement ring. “Please inform us about this outing. Has Lord Holmeshire set a wedding date?”

  “No, Mama,” she replied. “There are more important things to take care of.” More important? Could there be something more important? Was something wrong with her? Was this the real Genny? Katherine and Samantha looked at each other for answers and then back at Genevieve, trying intently to read her expression.

  “You see,” she began, her face having become flushed with emotion, while pushing away rock crystal stars and a silver-plated moon that they had spent hours designing, “There are actually real problems in the world.” They remained confused. She pulled her weight up in the chair to clarify. She had to be strong, did she not, for the task ahead. “There are cold, wet, hungry people, people that simply desire a position; they merely wish to have a home and food for their families, but have no means.” Her friends sat up intently, a look of understanding dawned on their faces, and fear and horror on Grace’s.

  “Where did he take you that you could not wear your jewelry, Genny?” asked Lady Breyton in a fairly sharp tone, with the first of her own opinions teetering on configuration.

  “He took me to the real world, Mama. We stepped out into the world, where that necklace could have fed a family for a year!” Grace gasped in alarm. “We were safe, Mama. We were accompanied by about ten gentlemen. You ought to have been there, too. Why have we not been there before, Mama? Were you hiding this from me? Hiding, perhaps, the most important thing in life? Living people in want of food? You should have been there! You all should have been there!”

  “What was it, Gen? What did you see?” Samantha asked, with fear on her face.

  “People, Sam. People with problems. Children with little clothing in the cold wind! People hiding from us in a little room, afraid of us when we looked in! Why are they afraid? What is it that we do to them? And there were...” She covered her face at some of the other memories.

  Suddenly she sprung up, looked around at the room and cried, “What are we doing living in this…this huge jewel box, this gilded and draped Goliath of a house, when there are people with little even to wear on their backs?” She ran to the door and looked out at the hall and up at the ceiling. “Gold overlay on the borders?” she exclaimed. “Why did we paint gold on the borders when people are starving?” She ran down the hall. “Golden picture frames!” She ran into a footman bringing tea. “Silver tea sets!” she yelled at the terrified man, “Food that will be thrown away for not being wanted! Servants have spent hours, just decorating these candies!” She picked some up and threw them over a railing down to the floor below. “How could we?!”

  She ran down the long hallway, up two flights of stairs and into her room, where she dashed elaborate trinkets off of her tables and threw herself onto her bed. The women followed after her, the girls terribly concerned and her mother furious!

  ~Chapter 7~

  This and That Effort; Everyone Tries

  The weather cooperated perfectly for Anne the next morning. Gwyn, upon approving Anne’s suggestion regarding his health, had asked to take Nicky out in the sunshine to a park, accompanied by the lady’s maids. They were given permission to go, and even a carriage to use, along with a footman for an escort.

  Anne had hoped that Simon would be given the responsibility, but that was foolish thinking. Mr. Grantham was in charge, and it could never be. She had planned, though, for either eventuality. While not on the rear of the carriage, Simon would simply become lost while out for the post and find himself in the park. The ladies must arrive at the right time, for Simon could not stay long; his duties called loudly, and he would be missed!

  However, Nicky was having a bad morning. His stomach hurt, and Nanny had to find a solution. Though her nursery back home was well stocked, she was now in London. She could only hope that the charcoal tablets she had brought in her small medicine bag would work for the pains. Getting them down little Nick’s throat was the worst of it, but Anne managed that when Gwyn could not. Once down, the small black lumps were quickly declared to be successful in their undertaking.

  Hattie, pointing the way down the long hall, commented that perhaps Anne should stay in her own area in the mornings; how was she to scrub and mop with everyone in all of London in her nursery? Anne, who had finally found cause to develop some stamina, pointed out that they would soon be gone for the entire morning. Hattie could re-mop, but what have we here? There is no mud; it seems that lady’s maids do not track mud about.

  Dressing Winnie took Elizabeth longer than usual, but Anne once again came to the rescue. She knocked and stepped into Winnie’s suite to see what she could do to help and proved to be exceedingly useful. Winnie’s hair just needed another twist and a few flowers. The buttons were difficult, since they were covered with fabric, so please move over, Lizzy, and Anne would do it for her. Anne was graciously thanked by Lizzy’s mistress. It did put Lizzy into a bit of an attitude, but Anne no longer cowed to her every whim. Life was at a critical turning point, and she was determined to pull the horses in the right direction and to get them there on time!

  On this particular day, they arrived at the park just on time. Anne fell in love with flowers like never before, which caused her to lag behind the other women. Once they were used to her being so far behind, she slipped around a large Memorial statue. There were flowers there, too, but she did not think of them for even a second.

  She found her Romeo sitting on the very same artistically twisted wooden bench she had praised in her note. He jumped to his feet, all smiles, and bowed to her as she curtsied. He handed her a bouquet that he had purchased, no doubt for his Grandmother, should anyone ask, but there she was and Grandmother was not. These flowers, this ribbon—could she ever put them down? She would keep them near to her always; they were as precious as life itself! But time was short, and she must think of her bouquet later.

  The two sat down quickly together and for the first time learned each other’s names. They had many questions, but spoke hastily, in desperation, and asked only a few, knowing that they would soon be found by angered Nannies and Maids.

  Anne Amberton, what a lovely name!” He seemed to be thanking God for having discovered that name at last. “Miss Amberton, then. I shall never forget. Is Holmeshire far from here?”

  “Aye, terribly far, and ‘tis a very rough ride. Did you always live in London?”

  “I did live near London, and my Gra
ndfather and Father were groomsmen for the royal family. I was very fortunate; we had a cottage on the grounds. Was your family in service?”

  “No, they live down in the village. My sister and I are in service. Do you like chocolates?”

  “I do; I love them. I am afraid I must go very soon.”

  She gave him a chocolate that she had redeemed and wrapped with loving care. “I hope that we will be able to talk again!”

  “I am sure that we can find a way! Can you read and write?”

  She nodded yes, and laughed. “Please recall the note I scribbled and dropped to you from the balcony!”

  “Ah, yes! Brilliant! I have written down some places where I can be at certain times, and I will watch for you there. Come only when it is safe, and should you not arrive, I shall wait for the next opportunity.” He gave her the list on a piece of old rag-paper. She slipped it into her pocket. “And be sure,” he continued, “to be at that window every opportunity to reassure me that you still care to see me, should we not meet otherwise.”

  “That desire will never change, sir,” she promised, “but I do not know how I will bear it when we leave for Holmeshire again!”

  “Write me notes,” he said, as he tried to pull himself away, “and leave them for me behind the General’s portrait near the Duke’s bedroom door. It is at the far end of the hall, down from the nursery. You can slide them into the bottom of the frame. Nobody walks in that area, from their breakfast until they dress for their dinner, except for the valet. He will not mind, but the housemaids! Watch out for the housemaids! I can find excuses to go there and retrieve the messages and leave some for you.”