The Companion of Lady Holmeshire

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The Companion of Lady Holmeshire Page 12

by Debra Brown


  “How wonderful this will be after so much time,” she whispered. “I must go now; I shall soon be hunted down.”

  “We must be together. We must find a way. I do so wish to know you better!”

  “I shall write long letters to leave you. I will tell you all about myself, and you do the same.”

  “I shall. I shall.”

  And Anne reappeared around the statue again, this time so happy that her mates knew exactly what had happened. She was poking a rose bud into her bouquet as they approached, but they knew better.

  “Where did the little white lilies come from, Anne? None grow here!” She had no reply. “Where were you? Is it that footman? Where is he?” No reply. This was truly Shakespearean. They were Romeo and Juliet alone, with no support, no help and no one to understand. But they were impervious and happy now; they had found a way.

  ***

  Holmeshire Hall gardens were in bloom. Caged birds could be heard indoors and a variety of wild ones filled the air without.

  “I ‘eard that Lord Wilfred has arrived ‘ome from London,” announced lanky Mr. Scott, “and I ‘ave come ‘ere to talk to him.”

  Barreby stared at the unkempt man with hat in hand. “And should he be here, who would I say was calling? Do you have a visiting card, sir?”

  “Card? I don’t have any sort of card. I do not need one. But I know the Lord will want to see me.” He nodded his head firmly; his conviction was surprising.

  “Your name?”

  “Mr. Benedict Scott. Father of Alexander Scott.” He stood proudly.

  Barreby’s eyebrows went up in interested surprise. “Mr. Scott. It is kind of you to call, but Lord Holmeshire has returned to London.”

  Barreby was taken aback by a sudden burst of anger on the part of his caller. “Gone back to London! It took everything I ‘ad in the world to get us transport from London to ‘olmeshire to see him! And...” Mr. Scott tried to calm himself, “you say he’s gone back to London.” His voice became sweeter with every word. “And ‘e’ll be back when?”

  “He’ll return with the end of The Season,” the butler informed him, “When hunting begins, and possibly later.”

  Benedict, nourished with a quart of ale, wove around on the porch, along with his thoughts of what to do. Finally he spoke. “Then here we are in want of a place to stay. There’s three of us.” He plunked down the tip of his walking stick. Barreby somehow managed not to cough and sputter.

  “I’m afraid, sir, without a card or a letter from the Lord Holmeshire, I would not be able to offer you hospitality. You will find an inn in the village near the road.” He shut the door without apology, preventing the miscreant from falling in.

  ***

  “‘e’s gone! Back to London! We’re lost! What are we to do now? You said ’e was ‘ere to build on his ‘ouse!” Benedict shouted at his son.

  “He was, Paw! I know he was. I checked it out thoroughly!”

  “Well, you checked it out wrong. He is not here now!” Benedict was as loud as he could be, but the couple had waited for him down the road quite a distance, so nobody in the house heard the complaints. “We cannot make it back to London. We’ll starve ‘ere, is what we’ll do.”

  “Come on down to town, Paw. We can find stuff. We can look for work should we ‘ave to. They’ll ‘ave work you can do somewhere!”

  ***

  Anne’s responsibilities were limited that night, with the ladies staying home. She found herself free; from the time they arrived home from the park until she was to dress Emma for dinner. She told Gwyn and Elizabeth that she was going to prepare clothing and jewelry, but they pointed out, with Elizabeth being quite firm, that she had about six hours for that. She may as well relax, for a time, after the outing. No, she said, she believed she had buttons to resew and a stubborn spot to remove. “‘Twas a good thing Mama trained us so well,” she cheerily pointed out to her sister.

  Off she went, knowing that she was now under their highest suspicions at all times. Once down the pillared hall and into Emma’s regal quarters, Anne quickly ran past the bed to the dressing room and threw some stockings onto the proper dressing table. She tossed some sewing tools near to the dress that she hung out for the evening. Now she had a bit of a mess, but at least it looked as if she were in the middle of her work.

  She hurried to Emma’s desk drawer for some of her fine perfumed paper, the new sort made from wood, a steel dip pen and ink. She felt guilty taking these expensive materials, but where would she find any inexpensive ones? She could rarely get to the shops, and these felt exquisite in her hands, a perfect medium to express her feelings!

  Anne had to decide where to sit for this labor of desperate love. Should she stay here and risk being found by Emma? Would her sister perhaps appear to check on her? Aye, she thought, she had better go elsewhere. Her own room was too far away, so…could she perhaps go into the next room, an unused guest room? Aye. She would never be expected to dare to hide in there.

  She put the supplies into a woven sewing bag and walked in the most casual way possible down to the next door. She made herself comfortable at a desk in a lowered ceiling nook where she would not be seen by someone who might open the door; giving her a chance to hide behind a nearby wardrobe should anyone walk in.

  And now, what should she write? Pure adoration? How would he take to that? She could not wait for him to write first and set the tone, or she would surely burst. Then they could never be together! And each word had to be done correctly; she had no blotter. She felt stressed for time so that she would not be found at this, but what could she say? She wished to propose immediate marriage and swear to never let go of his arm for any reason whatsoever, but that was probably far from acceptable.

  So she contented herself with writing how very lovely it was to have talked with him that day, how she had grown up in Holmeshire Village in a family of eight, had been well trained in the ways of womanhood and seamstressing, so very well trained that here she was a lady’s maid, and that she would very much like to meet with him again.

  All went well for her—not a blotch nor a smear on the paper, not a crease on the envelope and not a sister or nanny bursting into the room in search of her, although they had looked for her in Emma’s rooms. This all encouraged her very much, and she made her way around the interior of the second story all the way to the Duke’s area, where she inserted the document behind the framed picture on the wall, which, incidentally, did not prevent the perfume from filling the air.

  ***

  Lucy obtained a job at the Village Inn, working in the kitchen. Her industrious ways saved the situation for her little family, and they had a warm room to share, right above the cook stove. A willow outside the window provided shade and a roost for songbirds, which delighted her as she dressed for work early each morning. Charles was ecstatic about the plump, stuffed bed and vowed to remain in it for the rest of his life. In the following days, though, he was forced to go searching for work, at least a bit, and Benedict found the pub. His first beer on the third day enlightened his mind, and he decided to try a new approach up at the castle on the hill.

  “Mr. Benedict Scott again, sir, father of Alexander Scott.” Winnie’s growling dog did not much help his case.

  “I recognize you fully well, sir, though you have combed your hair.”

  “Yes. I am sure, sir, that you are aware of the needs of a good family for a proper income. Now, my daughter-in-law ‘as found lodging for ‘erself and my second son Charles in the village and ‘as a small income. My son is looking for honorable work amongst the farm ‘ands, as he is well experienced at that,” he lied, “to take proper care of his lady. It is only myself, now, that is in want of employment from Lord Wilfred, so that I am not a useless old burden on a young couple who should be planning an ‘appy little family. I am sure that you ‘av the authority to do as you know the Lord would do if he were ‘ere, and that is to grant me a position in the ‘ousehold. I would require a position that does not
involve strenuous activity, being a few years older than some. I may be just the man to supervise some of the stable ‘ands or to manage the lads who do the work in the gardens.”

  “Many of our workers are as old as you are, sir, or older. I always have the authority to hire servants who arrive with good references, whether the Lord is in residence or not. I am the steward of the house and choose to serve as butler as well. But I do...”

  “Then there you ‘av it. I can take over your position as butler and allow you a reprieve, as you are gaining in years as well. The income should, besides, go to two gentlemen, sir, in a world where there are many not employed. But, ah, why are we discussing it out ‘ere in the cold?” Benedict looked his sweetest, and then fully as pompous as a butler ought, though his stick did not support him well when he swayed.

  “Sir, there is nothing to discuss. I have want of no help other than some skilled construction workers next fall. I will ask you to knock at the servant’s door, should you have a question in the future. Good day.” He closed the door, but Benedict stood outside and yelled that the Lord would ‘ear of what was done to Mr. Alexander Scott’s own father at the Lord’s ‘ome.

  ***

  Simon made his way to the hallowed picture frame early the next morning with a note that he had composed the night before in the privacy of his room, having sent his roommates on a wild chase. They did need to know around 11 p.m., did they not, whether all the horses were healthy for the next day’s service? Or at least whether the stable hands had gotten off to sleep and would not complain about early hours? The men were glad for an opportunity to pour an ale, with the kitchen unattended, and take care of these matters.

  Simon had not had all the concern that Anne had for the aesthetics of his letter, but with sincere feelings to express, had done so beautifully. His opening words had been a nearly poetic tribute to Anne’s comeliness, followed by expressions of desire to find a way to keep her near him always. He’d written how he would surely become depressed should she go back to Holmeshire. He had elaborated on the dreadful treatment she had received at the hands of Grantham and everyone under him at the downstairs table. He’d quoted them, railed against such ill manners, and praised her gracious treatment of them in return. He had apologized that he could not continue writing, but would surely write again the next night, should he be able to find the privacy. And finally, here he was at the hiding place, receiving a perfumed note from his angel and replacing it with his hastily composed profession of love.

  ***

  The following Tuesday, the ladies were in the Duchess’ rose and cream-colored Sitting Room when a message was brought in for Winifred on parchment from Holmeshire Hall. Forgetting caution, she read aloud:

  “’Dear Most Honorable Lady Holmeshire, I have thoroughly but discreetly searched every drawer and pocket in the castle and have not turned up your missing bracelet. Perhaps it has been sold, I am sorry to suggest.’”

  Emma interrupted apprehensively, “A bracelet?”

  Winnie sighed, “Yes, actually, a bracelet did go missing. It was the sapphire and emerald bracelet that Charlotte of Wales once gave me from her collection.” She winced. Both Helena and Emma were deeply disturbed.

  “When did this misfortune befall you, Milady, do you know?” asked Emma, visibly alarmed for her own reputation.

  “Yes, Emma, it was the Sunday after Wills returned from Italy, before church. It had been laid out for me to wear. Emma, I fully know that you did not take the bracelet. Why would you? You had never stolen before and have had more than enough opportunity. You are shy to wear even the small ruby necklace. Now, how could you be suspected?” Her words comforted Emma somewhat, but the bracelet was still missing. “Now let me go on…

  “‘However, I am happy to relate that as of this moment, all the silverware and any jewelry you left behind is safely counted and locked up.’”

  She looked at Helena and smiled, “I am, of course, not concerned about my silverware, but you know Barreby, and that he must report.” She went on.

  “‘Yesterday, and a few days before, I had visits from a man claiming to be the father of Alexander Scott.’”

  Winnie looked up, startled, and Emma gasped. Her Ladyship continued reading,

  “’He desires a position as butler in the home, or any other supervisory position where he should not have to do any actual labor. I’ve turned him away, as he had no references and presented evidence on both occasions of being inebriated. However, he and his second son and daughter-in-law have arrived to live in the village below. Yours most sincerely, Mr. John Barreby.’”

  Winnie’s hands, with the note, dropped to her lap, and Emma rose to her feet.

  “Ma’am, Alexander was never able to speak well of his family. This is a matter of serious concern. I am greatly afraid!”

  “Thank you, Emma, for your viewpoint. I received the same impression from Barreby’s message. I will instruct him to alert the staff to be wary of any situation that may arise.”

  The Sitting Room door opened for Mr. Gabriel Hughes to be announced. He received the usual warm welcome, though Emma deplored the conversation that might arise, but she took her seat again, and he sat. The party continued with discussion of journeys, great ships and the ever warm sun of the Caribbean islands.

  After some time had passed, enough for Gabriel to have been adequately gracious, he apologetically said, “Although all the company is very good, I do wish to talk alone with Miss Carrington. Having burst in and intruded so already on your time, I am ashamed to ask, is there a place where she and I could talk together, with the young lady’s permission?” Emma nodded her willingness, though her heart leapt into her throat.

  Helena thought for a moment and then stood up. “My sister and I will leave this room. We have a matter to discuss and plans to make. You may visit here together for as long as you might wish. The footman will remain.” The two ladies gave Gabe their kindest regards and left the room.

  Gabe and Emma moved from their stiff silk chairs to a down-stuffed white couch, and there was a moment of silence. Gabriel was apprehensively determining how to proceed as he transferred himself, nearly speaking twice after they sat. Emma was racing through her previously prepared expressions of regret, searching for one that would suffice to mercifully stop him before amorous words appeared that could not be unsaid. She had just raised a finger to signal her wish to speak when he began to talk.

  “Miss Carrington, you have just recently met me, as I am well aware.” Having at last raised the courage, he went on to make his case. He was grateful to have spoken in time to thwart any intention of hers to prevent it. “I am horrified at myself for being so forward in this matter, but you see, I am more troubled that someone else may appear, someone who does not love you as well, nor would treat you as well, before I feel it more appropriate to take the opportunity. Therefore, you see, I must declare my feelings today and hope that you will understand my expedience in the matter. I have seen for myself and have heard that you are an admirable woman, and you are certainly beautiful in every way. In the few weeks that I have known you, I can barely eat unless I am with you, or hardly sleep at night. I am a barrister; therefore, I am well able to support you in good comfort on my earnings alone. Besides that, I have been left a truly charming country cottage, and some considerable income to manage the house, through Her late Majesty, the Queen Caroline of Brunswick. My foster parents, as well, have left me a pleasant home here in Town, which is where I dwell for much of the year. It is not so grand as this Belgrave mansion, but I can entertain comfortably in it, that is, when a hostess can be found.” He fumbled, not wanting to forget any important part of his preamble or fail to pour it out before she could decline. The words, once said, might prove to be a great temptation to her! “As, well, you see, as a barrister, my wife would be able to attend the royal court, so you would be able to spend as much time as you would like with your friends during the London Season. All other wishes of yours would be given the g
reatest consideration. I would dislike, very much, to ever decline your request. I wonder, then, dear Miss Carrington, if you would make me ever so happy and become my wife?”

  He put up a finger to stop her from replying and added, “I felt great urgency, indecorously, in making this request, but I shall give you as much time as you wish to reply. Please be assured of my lasting faithfulness and love, and do consider my words.”

  Emma could have been easily swayed, kind-hearted as she was, not wanting to hurt him. She had listened intently, watching his face and how it gradually raised as he gained confidence. His eyes had lifted from overseeing the tapping of his right foot and had settled, with a hopeful gaze, on hers. He surveyed every motion of her eyes, the direction of any turn of the corners of her mouth and the forward leaning of her body to ascertain her thoughts.

  How touching, she thought, that a great barrister, who could fight in court for the Crown and win great cases, should first be so hesitant to speak, and then nearly desperate. His eyes remained fixed on her, his speech concluded. She could not escape his hopes to hide and have a moment to think, for though her mind had already been settled, her heart was being battered. He was soft-spoken and charming. His promises were appealing. The country cottage...could she not go to see it? And especially because of his deep feelings, which she did not wish to bruise, she sought to find an excuse to assent. But no, there was much involved that had already been thought out many times. Winnie had not encouraged her toward the match, and she did not want to leave Holmeshire Hall; there was too much there for her to leave behind. She could not do it. She did not wish to say what she had to say, but summoned up her strength and spoke with finality.

 

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