The Companion of Lady Holmeshire

by Debra Brown

“Sir, I am honored for all my days beyond words. I have, though, committed my life to the companionship of Her Ladyship. Therefore, I must, with deep regret, turn down your kind offer.”

  Gabriel looked around for solutions to this obstacle in the line of a candle, the orchids, a pillow. There were none to be found, and he could not speak for a moment. And then he professed, “Miss Carrington, I shall wait for you. I can do nothing else. I wish Her Ladyship a long life, but it seems that mine will, then, be a lonely one. Please tell me that should the time ever come when you are free from this obligation, you would be able to love me?”

  “Oh, sir, I most possibly could, but I cannot promise to ever marry you.”

  “Could you tell me, then, that you will try to nurture love for me in your heart for these many years? That perhaps you will honor me with letters, perhaps with discussions at dinners over the years?”

  “Sir,” she paused for quite some time. “I do not wish to much encourage you. What can I say? You are kind, patient and good. I could not ask for a better husband, I say with abundant conviction. But I have words to speak that I am certain will dissuade you from this proposal. I must tell you a secret of mine. No one else must know.”

  She leaned over hesitantly, hoping to discourage him, and paused to fortify her courage. She glanced at the footman and covered her whisper to Gabe. He looked at her in disbelief, but found her to be sincere. He paused and thought, but he soon shook his head and waved his hand as if to say that it did not affect his feelings.

  She looked down at the floor, and then up again, and continued, “You must, then, promise me one thing.” He sat up more properly, that his word would be considered as perfect as gold. “That should you find another during these years, you will not wait for me, but marry,” she went on, “and you should seek another, sir. You will need a wife, and…and you will need sons. You have wonderful things to pass on, and I cannot promise that I could ever marry you. Should I become able, when I am older, I do not know that I could give you sons, even though we should marry. And, as I am sadly aware, you have no other family to take your abundant possessions at all.”

  He considered her words and stood up. She did the same. He bowed his head, at length, and then answered.

  “Miss Carrington, I can promise you that should ever any eyes look at me as yours have, and reach out and pull me into a soul the way yours have, I shall marry. I shall notify you by letter and marry. But I have looked at a million eyes in my life, and they do not have the dominion over me that yours have. I will take my leave now. And I will restrain myself from writing you more than one letter a week, that you may have some freedom in your life. God be with you.” He walked out the door, and her eyes filled with tears.

  ~Chapter 8~

  Misery, Difficulties…and What’s This, Now?

  “Emma, you have not told us anything of your conversation with Mr. Hughes! As a matter of fact, you have not said much about even the weather for the past few days. Tell us your secret; what are you so deeply pondering?” Helena queried. Winnie looked over with interest. Their Ladyships had seen sympathy on her face, and then short spells of gloom, followed by a lifting of the chin and a faraway look. “Did he indicate a desire to court you?” she pried, hoping that her friendly manner would excuse it.

  “He indicated a desire to marry me, ma’am,” she divulged, “But I gave the appropriate reply and have let it go.”

  “The proper reply? Does that mean he does not interest you?” Winnie appeared hopeful.

  “Ma’am, he is a kind gentleman. I have the utmost respect for him. But I do not plan to marry him; I have been given both generosity and the greatest kindness in my position with you. Along with that has come responsibility to you and to the orphans Robin and Kate, as you are aware. I take my duties seriously and will never sway from them. Besides that, you know that I could never leave Holmeshire Hall.” She was sweet, but steadfast. “And I thank you again for my enormous privileges, at great social cost to you, to both of you.” She started to rise to leave the room, but Winnie gently pulled her down.

  “Emma. You are a most serious and responsible girl. I commend you greatly.” Winnie paused. “I am pleased with the way you have responded to this situation and urge you to remain of this mind. I wish very much to see you live happily, please believe that.”

  “Ma’am, please do not concern yourself with it. Mr. Hughes has asked me to correspond with him and to see him, upon occasion, as a friend. I told him that I would enjoy that. In response, he has promised me that he would marry, should another woman enter his life. I shall continue to encourage him to do so, since I am to remain unmarried.”

  “And no doubt he has promised to be there the very day that I die. Is that true, Emma? For I would not want that.” Winnie’s concerned reaction surprised Emma. She had delayed discussing the matter because she had expected Winnie to encourage her to marry Gabe, as he was so suitable a gentleman. But here, instead, Winnie was opposed.

  “Mr. Hughes has wished you a long life, ma’am. He respects my wishes.” Winnie nodded, but her expression did not change. Helena, too, held back from any sentimental expression, and she nodded agreement to Winnie’s undisclosed concerns.

  ***

  The lavish Empirelands Hotel, with all its dignified candelabra accented against richly beautiful, dark wood walls, had a small matter developing at a round corner table where five men were seated on a balmy afternoon. Some had never met, and they were introduced while drinks were being poured and delicacies set out.

  “Lord Wilfred, I have asked you to meet here with me and these gentlemen to discuss some of the policies you are trying to introduce in Parliament. Some of your ideas are strikingly insightful; you have earned much respect. However, there are some things that you are not aware of, I am afraid. In one matter in particular, you are speaking up a few years too late, for this matter has been settled,” dictated the Marquess of Breyton, and it was clear that he was not to be crossed. “Let me read to you what Patrick Colquhoun wrote some time ago. He pulled out a printed paper and read,

  “‘Poverty… is a most necessary and indispensable ingredient in society, without which nations and communities could not exist in a state of civilization. It is the lot of man—it is the source of wealth, since without poverty there would be no labour, and without labour there could be no riches, no refinement, no comfort, and no benefit to those who may be possessed of wealth.’

  “In my opinion,” Breyton continued, “poverty is a necessary part of God’s plan to show how rich his blessings can be upon those whom he has placed in higher positions. It is God’s right to bless one and curse another, which is why the poor will always be with us. Now, of course, the poor must eat and have shelter; that is only right. Governing a country, such a duty as you and I have, means, in part, caring for the people within its borders. A few years ago, just a very few years, older men than you, and wiser, with keen concern for the people, rich and poor, took up this matter at great length. Much debate was carried on; much work was done. The final decisions were made. Parliament required that the poor be helped in a specific way. It is important to give this method an opportunity to show its benefits, but here you are, a mere youth in Parliament, trying to throw out what was finally established through the hard work of erstwhile lords, while you were yet at home, or taking your first Grand Tour.”

  “My Lord Breyton, I am sure that you are referring to the workhouses? The only legal means of the government to provide for the poor these last few years? Where the people must work hard, but never earn enough to move out on their own? Where the food is unpalatable and the living conditions miserable? Where family members are separated from one another and may never see each other again?”

  The Marquess took a moment to think, in the rounded booth, as he lit a cigar. “It is the workhouses that I am referring to, yes, to be sure. The workhouses were never meant to be a welcoming place, with excellent cuisine and comfortable accommodation. People must prefer not to
live there. Should the workhouses be pleasant places, we could never build enough of them! Men and women would simply fall back on that provision rather than work. The point is for the people to make their livings on the outside of these places, to search earnestly for work, to accept offers of employment, to find more pleasant and profitable ways to provide for their families. Then they must teach their young to carry on family businesses. That way they do not become a burden on others and bring down all those around them. That is what makes a society work.”

  “They must work, while we do not? We inherit more than we can spend in our lifetimes, and money comes into our coffers from the rents charged on the working class! We are handed multiple grand houses and land and furnishings and precious stones and metals everywhere; look at your own home, My Lord. And the poor have no way to make a living!”

  “Are you suggesting that I tear down my house and dole out the pieces to the poor?” Breyton looked at his minions for support. “As I said, God blesses whom he will.”

  “Of course not, My Lord, and I cannot accept that God made any man to suffer,” entreated Wills. “I am suggesting that the poor have not the advantage that you or I have had to provide for ourselves. Do not consider them all to be lazy, sir. I have seen men...and women and children...digging in the sewage that was the Thames for bits of something to sell! Or pleading for work, when there is none. I cannot hire them all, but I intend to hire many to work the charity houses that I intend to build.”

  “And who would oversee their work? Who would watch to make sure that your fine managers do not steal the resources, sir...my daughter?” He once again checked to be sure that the other men were nodding enthusiastic support.

  “Sir, I intend to find honorable and honest men to oversee these homes, and I intend to pay them well enough that they wish to continue in their positions. These would be men who have lived in the conditions that they will help us to improve, men that have seen misery and sorrow and who care to help others to escape it, or to at least have their most urgent needs met.” Wills respectful tone contrasted with the sarcasm of the Marquess.

  “Then you intend to sell Handerton to buy charity houses once you have your hands on it?”

  “No, My Lord, I intend to run a charity financed by the efforts of individuals who are interested in the welfare of the people. There are many respectable ways to raise funds. I would have preferred that the Queen’s government, as well, find a more humanitarian method of caring for its own citizens, people who have expressed their wishes that they had gainful work to do. I am sure you are very well aware that Her Majesty the Queen herself has expressed a desire for improving the living conditions of the poor.”

  “Have you nothing more to say than what you have expressed from your seat at Westminster? I have heard all that before. Please remember that both you and Her Majesty are young, that you are new at this business of running the world, and take counsel! Time will mellow your idealism, sir, and help you to find your way without endangering the very foundations of our country! You would have the lower classes feeling confident enough to rise up against us!” Breyton felt angrier by the minute. “Your mother’s effort to bring abandoned orphans into our homes and social functions is more than enough! Soon she will have our sons dancing with filthy women in tatters! They will be seducing our sons, trying to bear their children to take money from us and ruining the happiness of our son’s marriages! It has happened before!”

  “Sir, my mother is trying to do no such thing. She is hoping to introduce one perfectly suitable young woman into society as her companion only. I cannot say that I understand it, myself, since society objects, but my mother wishes it, and it is entirely harmless.”

  “It certainly is not harmless, sir!” He stopped for a moment to try to compose himself. “I hear tell, Lord Wilfred, that this young woman turned down marriage to a perfectly suitable commoner. I am sure that you know, as well as I do, that she has set her sights higher. She wants a title!”

  “Please, sir, that is not the case. My Uncle has told me that she has simply expressed loyalty to her position as the companion of my mother.”

  Breyton seemed to hear none of what Wills had to say. “She is not to be brought into society again! Lord Holmeshire, just why have you waited so long to set a marriage date with my daughter? Do you find her...less attractive?”

  “Not at all, sir. She is a beautiful young woman that has made me very proud, and we intend to marry soon. I was simply busy with other things for some time.”

  “Other things? Like traveling? Visiting mistresses? Bringing home children for her to raise? Refurbishing her home without her? You intend to marry soon only now that you have destroyed her pleasant view of life and won her over to sobbing philanthropy!”

  Wills spoke slowly and firmly, while remaining respectful. “You can fully trust, sir, that Lady Genevieve is the only woman whose bed I will ever have visited.” Breyton scoffed, but Wills continued. “Nicholas is the son of a deserving man who is not able to raise him. I will not bring home more children, and Genevieve will not have to take on any more care of Master Nicholas than she chooses to. He is fully my responsibility, and I am quite able to care for him with the help of my staff.”

  “And he has been made your heir, I have heard?”

  “Only until Genevieve has a son, sir. He will then continue last as my heir after our sons.”

  “And so my grandsons might then be murdered for my money! What a fine way to run a family, sir.” Lord Breyton put down his cigar. His changed position indicated that he was not long to remain in his seat. “I am unhappy, sir, that I have no son of my own. Should I leave everything to you, I would surely care to know where it would go after you. Therefore, I did some investigation with Chancery to find out who this Nicholas is that you brought into your home, as well as to visit my daughter in my home. As it turns out, sir, there is no record whatsoever of this Nicholas in Chancery! You have simply taken a child, from who knows where, to raise as your own son. That is, if he indeed is not your son! I shall further investigate this for the sake of law and order! And, sir, Genevieve has told her mother that the two of you should never have been matched. That you are too different from each other, and that we were foolish to pair you so young. I can see that she is right, as ashamed as I am of my own youthful naivety. And now, Holmeshire, you have taken a refined and sensitive young lady into the worst of humanity, exposing her to danger, taking her clothing for another woman and bringing her face to face with a dying baby. My daughter is above this sort of ‘outing,’ and she is above this sort of future. Mr. Bernard Spencer, here, is my solicitor.” Spencer nodded with a wavering smile, and Breyton continued. “He has begun work to dissolve the engagement between you and my daughter and subsequent bequeathal of my properties to you BEFORE HANDERTON SHOULD BE TURNED INTO A CHARITY HOUSE! You may send your solicitor to visit him, if you will.” Spencer handed Wills a card. “I hope Spencer does not require the services of a barrister in court, although he will likely be hiring one at least in the matter of Master Nicholas!”

  At that the four men arose and left the hotel, leaving Wills to sit alone with his brandy, Breyton’s cigar and some troubles.

  ***

  The nanny and maids were sitting together in the day nursery, waiting for their tea to arrive. Nicholas was out having fun with Helena. Gwyn and Lizzy were belaboring the fact that Anne was spending far too much time working on Emma’s clothing these days, and they did not care for it. What was she really doing, and where was her mind these days? Lizzy frequently asked. Surely she had something up her sleeve!

  Anne, who was now wearing her bouquet ribbon around her wrist forever, was taking the verbal beating as a matter of course, knowing that she could find no way to pass messages to her love without having to endure at least that much punishment. She was thankful that the girls were enjoying each other’s company and did not choose to follow after her every movement. Meetings with Simon were found to be impossible, but, oh, how
she loved the letters her Romeo left! She could not sleep for thinking of the things she was next going to write to him. If only she did not share a bed with Lizzy, she could write letters all night!

  Suddenly, the nursery door opened, and who should enter but the caustic Mr. Grantham and two tall footmen. The girls were struck with fear and jumped to their feet! They felt they should say something respectful, or perhaps defensive, but not one of them could utter a word. What was happening? Had they come to accuse them of something? To order them to do something? To give them a lashing? Surely it was to be severe, for it would take three of them to accomplish it!

  Mr. Grantham walked over to Anne and put out his arm. “I would like to escort you down to tea,” he remarked with finality and then looked at the door, ready to head in its direction. She looked at him for a moment. Was this a joke? Or some kind of a test? Was she to be taken to a dungeon and chained to the wall? Perhaps her letters had been discovered! What could she do? What should she do? She looked at the girls; their faces offered no explanation or suggestion, just a measure of repressed alarm. She walked to his side and trembling, put her hand through his arm.

  As they stepped toward the door together, the footmen came further in and offered their arms to the nanny and maid, which arms were also accepted with a great deal of anxiety. Out the door went the three pairs, and to the stairs.

  Silence reigned as they descended to the first floor, past the statues that surely knew what this meant but would not tell, and down more flights to the dungeon. The kitchen. The servant’s hall. There the long table was set for tea with the servant’s flatware, and the maids, footmen and stable hands were lined against the wall in silence.

  The three women were stood at their respective seats, according to their rank this time, by their escorts, and Grantham ordered Simon, who was thoroughly bewildered, to leave his position and stand next to Miss Anne. He followed orders well and took his place, feeling nervous inwardly, but to all appearances remaining ever the savior that Anne needed at her side.