by Debra Brown
“If you please, then,” he began, pointing to a room off the entry, “I choose this room for my office to oversee the charity as a whole. I expect that much of the year it will be occupied by a responsible assistant, with my being a gentleman far off in a country house. So, Genevieve, please choose your office, where you will organize the Shakespearean plays. Each of the rest of you shall have an office; please search one out. That includes you, Mr. Smith. I will choose one for your Mama, down the hall and out of the way, where her child can attend her. And the ladies should consider whom they might wish to have as an assistant to run their branch; someone, perhaps, from the middle class, and educated, who would responsibly carry on their work while you are away from Town. Please choose carefully so that we will have great success!”
Henry was shocked! “My Lord, I shall have an office?”
“I have seen your reading, your writing and your determination,” replied Wills. “You will be given intensive training to oversee shelter homes; will you work hard at it? If you continue with your responsible manner, you shall have a position for the rest of your life. We must obtain a top hat for you, as you will come to be a middle class gentleman and you must look the part!” Henry smiled broadly for the rest of the day.
“I wanna hava office!” Nicholas chirped.
“You will have a position right here,” Wills replied, and put the young one on his shoulders.
The women were told of their positions in the charity and left to stake their claims. They began uncovering furnishings and excitedly called out to each other. Wills received permission and followed Genevieve to her office.
“This house is elegant!” he remarked as they walked.
“It is, a bit, for charity administration,” she agreed, “but I do not wish to spend money changing rugs, wallpapers and such. I prefer that our money go for the intended purpose.”
Wills agreed, and they entered her chosen office. She excused herself to look over the beautifully carved white borders along the pale blue ceiling of the room. He gazed for a moment, with much deepened respect, at the proficient young woman. As she looked through a bookcase and tried out pulling open the drapes, he paced about with his eyes to the ground, pulling his top hat around in circles in his hands in front of him.
When she was at last satisfied with the little tour she had taken and turned back to him, he asked her to please sit for a moment. A soulful expression appeared, belying her sorrow over the conversation to come. She chose a mint green chair, and he sat just across from her on its footstool. “The matter of marriage...” he began.
She interrupted immediately, “Wills, I truly hope that you have not bought me an engagement ring. I know that you did not choose me, and I did not choose you. You are a remarkable man; you are leading people into remarkable changes. You are a wonderful Earl over fortunate subjects. But my interests, at this time, are related to what I can do for this charity, for the people who are in want, for the future of this country. I want this to be my life, and it is here in London. While you and I are firmly, and most happily, united in the Chenbury project, we, as individuals, are different in many ways. I cannot imagine living in the country. I love the Town and I love French design. Perhaps I am selfish, but I am so utterly tired of my parent’s controlling of my every move and making of my every decision, and I do not wish to go and live the rest of my life subject to the control and decisions of another. I cannot envision caring for Nicholas or the two or three dozen children that might arrive in our nursery. To be perfectly honest, I cannot imagine dying in childbirth! I wish to live to a ripe old age, doing what I care to do. What sort of a wife could I be? Do you see how different we are? My choice, if it should not hurt you deeply, is for us to not marry. It would give me some amount of peace with my father, who cannot endure any opposition in Parliament. I do not know who his fortune and Handerton House will go to, some good person I would hope, but I am provided for. Whether I ever should choose to marry anyone at all, I do not know. They are trying to find me a new match, but I long for independence. Should I not marry, Chenbury will eventually go to whomever my father’s properties go to, but by then, surely another place could be found for the charity.” She looked down at the floor. “I am sorry for Papa. He will not leave a legacy if I do not have a son. My Mama has been angry, but she is…adaptable. She will love me and be my dearest friend regardless of my decisions. But I do, very much, wish you to marry and have children with someone that you love. Love means more to me than a title does, and I want you to have both. You see, my parents were long engaged by arrangement. My father told me yesterday that he once fell for another woman and that it was very troublesome for him. It nearly cost him his marriage to my mother. He no longer wishes me to face such a possible problem in my future. Suppose one of us…suppose you are in love with someone else, as I suspect you are. How could we be happy?”
Wills paused for a moment, nodded his understanding and said, “How brave of you, Genevieve, to be willing to face a new life, not knowing what it will bring, not having someone to live it with you. You do seem to be able to take control of it and succeed in it, and I commend you! Though it is true that I do care for someone, I do not think that she will ever be my wife, and so my future remains uncertain like yours. Neither of us has had this situation, this feeling of facing life without each other before, completely single, you know. But I shall enjoy, very much, working together with you to help the poor. I would enjoy, so much, any visits you may care to pay to Holmeshire Hall, where you shall not, then, be expected to fill the nursery.” They both laughed. “To our union at Chenbury. And to your wonderful balls and freedoms and happiness!”
“To our new Queen, to Chenbury, to your happy future, to my Mama’s ball and your Awards Night. There is a lot to live for!”
Will regained a serious, but sentimental bearing. “Genny, considering that you are not seriously involving yourself in the Marriage Mart, and that you may choose any favored finger for it, would you wear a ring designed just for you by a very dear friend?” Wills reached into his coat. Having survived the dreaded conversation with a very calm bearing, much female courage and an entirely dry handkerchief, Genevieve now came to tears and quickly disintegrated into sobs as the ring was produced.
***
The Marquess was terribly unhappy about his daughter’s independent stand and her new outlook on life, but took solace in that Parliament was backing him zealously again and had abandoned their support of Lord Holmeshire. Perhaps Genevieve would eventually mature beyond this, he thought, and life would go back to normal—without Wills. The Breytons had begun the hunt for another “suitable husband,” with lands and a title, and hoped that this time he would remain suitable.
Lady Breyton met with various friends to discuss this, as certainly everyone must know that it was their choice to break the engagement and not his, is that not right? And she would certainly welcome their opinions as to how to proceed from there. Lady Embry came to tea, carrying a long-haired cat and a rather too large allotment of influence over the Marchioness of Breyton, one day at Handerton House.
“We are beginning to look to other countries, now,” Lady Breyton divulged, finding her desperation over her spinster daughter fairly difficult to hide. “With the Earl of Holmeshire out of our way, we may even make a royal match!”
“It is indeed time to put some royal blood into the family from one country or another, since you have none at all,” Lady Embry pompously advised. “This is very fine. Meanwhile, the Holmeshires are going in the opposite direction, dragging that common girl along everywhere they go. She does not even go to church when they are in Holmeshire, I have heard! It is just a show, then, that she condescends to go in London. And her ruby necklace is becoming a bore. She wears it everywhere.”
“Perhaps His Lordship will marry her now—can you imagine?” Grace Breyton shook her head as she spoke. “It would be very convenient for the lot of them. If only Lord Breyton would have known how he was going to turn
out, romping with the peasantry and all! But everyone seemed to think it was a good match. His Majesty, King George IV, was very pleased to have it so indeed. And here Genevieve has already passed up many fine young men because of him. They’ll all soon be bringing their wives to our ball.”
“I hope Lady Genevieve did not invite that…foundling to your ball?”
“I am afraid that, against our wishes, she sent her a belated invitation. She just does not listen to us anymore! A most unusual girl! But do not fear; I did expressly state that she should not.”
“As you most certainly should have. But you absolutely must take control of your daughter. You can have the staff refuse Miss Carrington entry, you know; I certainly would. The girl is a mere housemaid! If only the Countess could see what she is doing. It is shameless!”
“It is our home and our ball, and I certainly will refuse her entry!”
***
“We need somebody inside that ‘ouse!” Mr. Scott complained. “We need to get them to trust us. The only thing I can see, now, is for Lucy to take a position there.”
“I have a position right here!” she snapped defiantly. “I’m not giving up a good position and our room and board! I’m willing to work for my money!”
“Yeah, Paw, I wish to stay right ‘ere in this warm flat. Three meals a day, a soft bed...Lucy’s doing fine for us, Paw. It‘s good enough for me.” He shuffled his cards.
“You must get a position, too, Charles, and begin to pay for your meals soon,” Lucy warned, “or they say they’ll throw you out!” She was picking up after the both of them. “I shan’t put in a good word for you!” She shook their holey shoes at them. “And I’m not sleeping in the middle anymore! Help me shake up the bed.”
“We’ll never have any real money should we not get into that ‘ouse!” Benedict climbed onto the bed and was asleep within a moment.
***
Morning brought breezes through the windows in Emma’s room, tossing long, wispy curtains about like flags. But morning was not the cheerful time that it had been recently. Though both Emma and her lady’s maid had been walking on clouds, this morning meant talking of sadder things.
Emma asked the reason for Anne’s silence while she was brushing her hair up; she was told, between sighs, of the previous day’s fright with the cut-up shawl and of her discussion with Simon. Miss Darivela had entered the room with a fragrant fresh bouquet and a well-pleased glance at Emma, and she nodded her sympathies. She pulled out tired greenery from yesterday’s flowers and promised that she would be keeping an eye out for whoever downstairs might be trying to intimidate poor Anne. Miss Darivela, with her compassionate ways, was well liked and often confided in. Surely someone would unburden themselves of the facts, even knowing that she would set matters straight.
She took a seat near the ladies and expressed great sadness over the difficult circumstances of Anne’s romance. She reminded her that things do change; especially should one be determined to make it so. Emma agreed, pointing out how her own life had had such pivotal experiences, something that Anne had observed with her own eyes. Just be wise, the women told Anne, say many prayers and make careful decisions. Her future might lay in her own hands, for good or for bad. Before leaving the room, Adelina spoke one more time, and very kindly. “I have placed your geraniums in your room, now, Anne, as I believe you had completely forgotten about them on the balcony!”
That very afternoon the vigilant Miss Darivela ascertained that it was Hattie, the nursery maid, who, having favored Simon, had invidiously cut up the shawl. Dismissed immediately, Miss Hattie said her goodbyes before tea, in quite an angry voice, and went home to her mother. It was a relief to many to know who had done such a thing and to have it put behind them. Few would miss Hattie, least of all Simon.
He and Anne walked out together and purchased a new shawl, which was paid for from Hattie’s wages. The disgruntled nursery maid did insist, however, on taking home with her the shredded shawl so she could finish its decimation. After all, she said, she had paid for it many times over, worst of all with the loss of her dreamed-of lover. The rest of her day was spent with her poor mother, who was in a state of alarm as Hattie roared and ripped the hapless brown fabric to ribbons, throwing each vehemently cursed piece into the flames below a pot of porridge, pleased, at least, that it would never warm the shoulders of Anne Amberton again.
Simon insisted that Anne, who was truly very much a lady, would have the new shawl with a row of lace on the ends, even though he must put out quite a bit of money for the extra work done by the lace maker. He only regretted that he could not buy her the lace-topped gloves to match, but he quietly kept them in mind. The shopkeeper read his thoughts, and he saw her silently slip them into a drawer with a knowing smile.
Their ardent commitment was to wait at least one hundred years for each other, and not a day less, while they tried to work things out to remain together.
***
“My dear Miss Carrington,” wrote Gabriel a few weeks later, “I hope that you are enjoying the lovely summer weather. I am happy to hear that you will be attending the Midsummer Night’s Dream Ball. I, too, will be there, and I do hope for a dance with you. Please inform me as to whether I may have that privilege. All goes well with me; I hear from my country home that it is prospering. My cattle and horses are producing, and my fortunes are thus increasing. Perhaps someday we will enjoy that home together, however old we may come to be. I do, though, heartily wish Her Ladyship good health and a long life. Sincerely yours, Mr. Gabriel Hughes.”
Emma was saddened by the letter; it seemed from his words that he was holding hope too dearly. She began a note in reply.
“Dear Mr. Hughes, I am always so happy to hear from you. And of course, I would be more than pleased to dance with you at the ball, just a few days away. I will save the first dance, should that please you. Be assured that I am happy to hear about your increasing fortunes, and I do hope that you will have the happiest future. Please do dance with many ladies at the ball, for I hope that you will find a good wife while you are young enough, and subsequently have a lovely family. Yours sincerely, Miss Emma Carrington.”
Emma had no sooner sent the letter out than Helena and Winifred arrived, relaxed and happy, to sit and do some stitching. Perhaps now, she thought, would be a good time to ask them some questions? She quickly prayed for some great amount of courage and then looked to the women.
“Your Grace, and ma’am, I have had concerns about some things that have been previously said. I would like to ask you some questions, for you have kept secrets from me all this time. Please tell me that I finally may hear the answers?”
Winnie paused, correctly assuming what the topic would be and finally nearly ready to confess the details. “Yes, dear, do ask.”
“I have worn this simple golden ring for nearly three full years now, not knowing how it came to be mine. I do notice it shining on my finger insistently, prompting me to indulge in fantasies and fears. Then, please, tell me about my shining ring and whatever you know about my life with regard to it? I have another question, as well. Mr. Gabriel Hughes is said to be a fine gentleman, far and wide, and I have heard it from you yourselves. Though I discourage him from waiting for me, I cannot help but reflect on the situation often and wonder—why is it that you are so uncommonly concerned that I may further my relationship with him? What could be the misfortune in it?”
Winnie sighed heavily, feeling relieved that she could finally reply. Helena spoke, though, before her sister could. “My dear Emma, we have decided that we would like to arrange a meeting with you and Her Ladyship Genevieve to discuss these matters. I will contact Genevieve as soon as possible to see when this could occur.”
This, of course, threw Emma into absolute astonishment! Why Genevieve? What could she have to do with this? But she agreed, soon requesting her perfumed paper from the footman. He returned to report that her lady’s maid knew nothing of any remaining supply in her room. Helena repented of
her own delay, since twenty seconds of inaction had caused the desperate Emma to plead for her own paper, and with none forthcoming, the desperation was mounting. She immediately composed and sent a post. Genevieve returned a letter within the hour, and plans were made to meet that same evening at Belgrave.
***
In the meantime, Lady Embry was sending out notes asking for people to turn their backs on the Holmeshires, should they not conform to society’s proper expectations. It was very important for the good of all that they change their ways, was it not? After all, as she apprised Lady Breyton, the established order of things could crumble, and the common people could take over the country! And should that happen, certain anarchy would result.
***
After an early dinner, which worked best for Their Lordships that evening, Wills approached Emma, offered his arm and walked her up a flight of stairs. They paused on the landing.
“Am I seeing some misery on your…I had best not flatter, on your rather plain face?” He could not help himself; as much anguish or despondency as he felt, or as he might detect in another, his personality could not be repressed.
“I’m afraid you are, thank you, sir,” she paused and glared, allowing only a fleeting glimpse of her amusement to show through. “I do have questions afflicting me, but I believe this situation will soon resolve itself; whether it is for the good or the bad, I do not know.”
“Let me, then, escort you to your destination before I join the men to leave the house. Perhaps a moment of my presence will improve your state of being.”
“You are, to be sure, the best of medicines, and it is admirable that you are liberal in dosing ailing women with your charms. A full moment am I to have?” She shook her head in awe of his ability to entertain. “Please, conduct me to the Sitting Room, where I will learn of the outcome.”
“Suppose I had something important to say?”