Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  “He means,” Daisy said, sounding older than her years, “that he does not want us to be in the house anymore.”

  “That is not what I said, Daisy,” Hamilton began.

  “Yes, it is,” Daisy said, ignoring propriety. Her hands were clenched into fists on the table, and she glared angrily at her father. Arabella was stunned, hand pressed to her mouth, but Abigail could only focus on the outraged frown Douglas had turned on Daisy. “You promised you would not send us away!”

  “I am not sending you away,” Hamilton said.

  “Daisy,” Douglas said, “this impertinence is not acceptable.”

  “You’re the reason he’s sending us away!” Daisy said, voice wavering. She looked close to tears, and Abigail felt her heart break. “I hate you!”

  “Daisy,” Hamilton said, shouting and slamming his hand down on the table. “Apologise to your uncle right now.”

  “I will not,” Daisy said, looking frightened but refusing to back down.

  Arabella opened her mouth. “Philip –”

  “You have no part in this,” Hamilton told her, not tearing his eyes away from Daisy. “Apologise to your uncle, Daisy.”

  Daisy shook her head. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to apologise. I hate him, and I hate you!”

  Without waiting for her father to reply, she jumped down from the table, racing from the room. Hamilton immediately pushed back his chair, but Louis was already moving.

  “I don’t mind going to school,” he said, and Abigail couldn’t see his face, but he sounded sad. “At least we won’t have to talk to you.” Louis was gone almost as quickly as his sister.

  Lottie didn’t seem to know what to do, but with the absence of her siblings, and her father’s thunderous expression, she burst into tears.

  Douglas was furious. Teeth clenched, he glared at Hamilton as if he should have foreseen this. Abigail did not disagree. How he could do this to his children when he had been so adamant they would have everything they could need, she did not know.

  “Miss Stewart,” Douglas snapped. “Please take that child out of here.”

  Abigail immediately felt anger sweep her breast and wanted to say something. Arabella was shaking her head, looking pointedly at Lottie, so Abigail swept Lottie into her arms and carried her from the room. “Hush, Lottie, hush.”

  Lottie gripped onto her dress, face tucked into Abigail’s neck as she cried. Abigail hoped that Daisy and Louis were up in their rooms. She took the stairs. Perhaps she could get Lottie down and sleeping and then find out how her siblings were faring.

  She did not want to think about what had prompted Hamilton’s decision, why he felt the need to send his children away. Douglas seemed more than pleased with the choice, and if Abigail wasn’t so concerned about the children, she might have wondered more at his involvement.

  Daisy was sitting in the middle of her bed, one arm around Louis, and they were whispering furiously as Abigail entered the room.

  “I hope you are not thinking about leaving,” she said pointedly, remembering children from her town sharing the same looks before proclaiming they would run away. “Your father loves you.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Louis said petulantly. “If he loved us, he would want us here.”

  Abigail sighed gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. Unlike the last time she had been here, she had all three children instead of just Daisy. Lottie was still tucked under her chin, but she was wiggling her fingers at Louis, who was trying half-heartedly to return the wave.

  “Sometimes,” Abigail said, reaching over to touch Daisy’s cheek, “parents have to do things for their children that they do not want to.”

  Daisy was listening to her, leaning into Abigail’s touch. “Father doesn’t want us around. We remind him too much of Mother.”

  There was no answer that the children would listen to. Abigail felt powerless to help them, to come up with a solution they would want to hear.

  “It will be okay, Miss Stewart,” Louis said, straightening up. “We will go to school as Father wishes.”

  Abigail had no doubt that they would. She left them with promises that they would be in lessons in half an hour. Daisy took Lottie in her arms. Abigail had no idea what Hamilton planned to do with the little one. She was far too young for most schools.

  Arabella was in the hallway outside the girls’ room. “Miss Stewart.”

  “Abigail, please,” Abigail said. She was exhausted and didn’t think she wanted to remain in the house any longer than the children.

  “I don’t know what he was thinking,” Arabella said, sounding stricken. “He isn’t talking, but he would never do this to the children.”

  “As soon as the storm is over, I will be leaving.”

  “I had a feeling,” Arabella said, sounding sad. “I would not expect you to stay when you are being treated with such disrespect.”

  Abigail didn’t know what made her say it. She thought only of the children in the next room and the way Hamilton had been treating everyone in the house. “I heard you talking the other night.”

  Arabella clasped her hands together, looking troubled. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what my father is up to.”

  “It’s not true.” Abigail didn’t think she had to convince Arabella of that, given her support to Hamilton, but she needed to say it. “My mother has never done anything to earn disgrace in the community.”

  Arabella sighed. “I thought so. Philip is foolish if he believes it.”

  “Or,” Abigail said quietly, “he has a good reason for not thinking the best of me.”

  “It was a long time before he knew how to love,” Arabella admitted. Abigail was startled, heart hammering at the thought of Hamilton being in love with her. She had to be sensible. “As a young man, he neglected school and decided to try to start businesses. He would often have a woman on his arm.”

  Abigail did not want to know this. “Arabella –”

  “I’m trying to explain how his life has been, so that you understand. Catherine was the first woman he loved. He might never have settled down if he hadn’t met her.”

  That didn’t help. Abigail wondered if anything between them had been real, or if Hamilton was just been using her to deal with his grief. Perhaps it was not such a bad thing that the children would be leaving. She did not want them to have suffer Hamilton’s flights of fancy.

  Chapter 8

  Missing Miss Stewart

  The storm broke.

  There was relief in the house, but Hamilton did not know how to deal with the weight settling in his stomach, the dissonance he felt amongst his family and children. His children had yet to thaw, and even Douglas had become aloof, disappointed.

  Miss Stewart had been adamant that she would leave as soon as the storm turned. Hamilton couldn’t hide his disappointment – and distress – that she was leaving, and with the snow not yet cleared.

  “I will be worried,” he told her, as her driver smoothed her coat across her shoulders. “It might pick up again.”

  “I wish to go home,” Miss Stewart said tightly, not meeting his eyes. She was respectful, but he could feel the distaste she had for him.

  “The children will be cared for.” It felt like the right thing to tell her.

  Miss Stewart looked unimpressed. “You would know that, sending them miles away?”

  Hamilton would never stand for that kind of impertinence under any other circumstances, but he was aware of how things had been in the house for her, the tension that had grown. “I hope to see you again,” he said, when he could think of nothing else. There was a brief silence, broken only by her breathing, when he thought she might walk off without saying anything else.

  Her expression was heartbroken, a mirror of his own, he imagined, and her hand moved, as if she might touch him. “I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Hamilton. It has been wonderful meeting your children.” She paused, swallowing hard, and he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. “They are a cre
dit to you. Catherine would be proud, I think, to see them in this moment.”

  She did not have to say I do not know about beyond, because the words were already in Hamilton’s head. He did not want to think about the future, not now with Miss Stewart giving him a brief, sad smile before turning to Arabella.

  “You have been wonderful,” she whispered, giving Arabella a hug.

  “I wish you would stay,” Arabella said, just as fiercely.

  Miss Stewart looked back at him over her shoulder, then seemed to straighten some, a brave smile directed at his cousin. “I shall be glad to see my parents after all this time.”

  At mention of her parents, Arabella looked pointedly over her shoulder at Hamilton. Douglas was nowhere to be seen – he didn’t have the decency to say goodbye to Miss Stewart, but that was no surprise. Douglas seemed interested in little these days.

  The children came down the stairs accompanied by a nurse, all of them had tear-stained cheeks and were clutching each others’ hands. Hamilton’s heart ached to see them. He tried to keep a stoic expression and bearing. They did not need to see him upset at Miss Stewart’s departure.

  Lottie was crying as she clung to Miss Stewart’s neck, babbling away with the occasional word comprehensible. Miss Stewart kissed her cheek. “You behave for your father, do you understand me?”

  Lottie bobbed her head. “Yes.”

  Miss Stewart let out a watery laugh and handed Lottie back to the nurse. Louis immediately threw his arms around her waist, after a quick glance at his father. Hamilton could forgive the impropriety given the circumstance. “I will miss you, Miss Abigail.”

  “I will miss you too.” She bent down, tugging at his collar and straightening it out. “Your father loves you.”

  Louis nodded, hugging her tightly. He mumbled something in Miss Stewart’s ear that Hamilton couldn’t make out, but it made Miss Stewart hug him tighter and whisper something back.

  Daisy, so angry since she had discovered they were to leave, took Miss Stewart’s hand. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I know, Daisy,” Miss Stewart said, sweeping his older daughter into a hug. “You are a wonderful daughter, and you are a caring sister. I want you to promise me you will look after them when I’m gone.”

  Hamilton wanted to protest at that; he was here, he would care for them. It took him a moment to remember that he had agreed to send them to school, to send them for an education that would hold them in good stead. Hamilton pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the ache beneath. He could almost see Catherine’s disapproving frown in his mind’s eye.

  “I promise,” Daisy said, squeezing Miss Stewart tightly. “Please write.”

  “If your father permits it,” Miss Stewart said, meeting Hamilton’s eye hesitantly.

  “As long as the school permits it,” Daisy mumbled, hunching her shoulders.

  Hamilton wanted to tell her to stop slouching, but he held his tongue, let her have a moment. He was trying to soothe things between them not make them worse.

  “Listen to me, both of you,” Miss Stewart said, taking a hold of Louis’s hand and tugging them both close. “You are going to go to school, and you are going to get an education.” She paused. “You are going to make your father proud and become a young man that will give the Hamilton name much more prestige.” Louis nodded, standing a little straighter. “And I know you,” Miss Stewart said, touching Daisy’s chin, “are going to become a wonderful young woman who will make any husband proud.”

  Daisy was crying once again, but she was nodding, leaning in to the hug Miss Stewart gave both children once again.

  “Miss Stewart,” her driver said, standing in the doorway. “The carriage is ready."

  Miss Stewart straightened, and Hamilton could see tears on her face. He had never seen someone interact with his children on such a level since Catherine. Arabella tried, but she did not have the same relationship with them. Hamilton could not be that for them, not while he was trying to keep the household together. He wanted to keep Miss Stewart from leaving, wanted to ask her to stay, but he kept his composure and remained in the hall, watching her leave.

  “Philip,” Arabella said, looking tired. “You should have asked her to stay.”

  “There would be no point to it,” Hamilton said, as Layton closed the main doors. “Nothing can happen, not with the state of affairs as they stand.”

  Arabella looked as if she might say more, so Hamilton sighed and turned to his children.

  “Back to your lessons,” he said sharply, and his children immediately followed their nurse back upstairs, Louis and Daisy holding hands, and Lottie wailing for Miss Stewart.

  Hamilton disappeared into his study, pressing his hands to his forehead. A headache was blossoming at the back of his head, and he hoped desperately that he would be given peace enough to rest before having to address anything.

  Thankfully he was alone until they were called for dinner. It wasn’t enough to rid himself of the sadness over Miss Stewart leaving, and it was made more prevalent by her absence at the table. The children were respectful for the first time in days, sad. Lottie was still crying, but they ate their dinner in silence, except to answer his questions with satisfactory responses.

  Douglas appeared, talking with the same enthusiasm as always, seemingly immune – or ignoring – the sadness the others were carrying. He tried to coax Arabella into conversation, but she turned her attention on the children, asking about their lessons.

  “I’m doing all right,” Louis said slowly, poking at his meat. “I’m afraid I will forget the things Miss Stewart taught me.”

  “Nonsense,” Douglas said, looking irritated.

  “Of course, you’ll remember,” Arabella said quickly, knowing better than to give her father a dark look, but Hamilton knew his cousin.

  “You’re very intelligent,” Hamilton said, drawing Louis’s face to him. He looked surprised but pleased. Hamilton did not doubt that his children loved him, despite their protestations of the contrary, but he appreciated the smile on his son’s face all the more. “I am sure you will remember everything you learned with her.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Louis said.

  Silence fell over the table, and though both Louis and Daisy kissed him goodnight after dinner, he could not help but take Lottie’s rejection to heart. She was so much younger than her siblings, and she felt things more keenly. He did not know how to tell her that he missed Miss Stewart as much as she did, if not more.

  Chapter 9

  Coming to Terms

  The house was eerily quiet.

  The children were moving around as if they were trying to keep themselves as noiseless and small as possible, to not have attention cast on them. Hamilton was sure it was due to avoiding either his wrath or Douglas’s. He had yet to ask them which it was, afraid to know the answer. Lottie was still finding it difficult to adjust, but she was calmer around the nurses and around Hamilton. Daisy and Louis were behaving in a manner even Douglas could not criticise, and Hamilton would be suspicious if they hadn’t just lost Miss Stewart.

  He had been so used to seeing Miss Stewart around the house, so used to have her herding children or seeing her in the library in the evening, that it was disconcerting not to have her around. He couldn’t deny that evenings were quieter without her that he missed talking with her and hearing her laughter. Her absence at the dinner table was felt almost as keenly.

  Arabella confessed to missing her one evening. “It was nice having someone around,” she told him, the dinner table empty but for them. “I did not realise how much I had missed that.”

  “You could always attend balls and functions,” Hamilton pointed out.

  “Father will not part with money for frivolous reasons.” Arabella poked at her plate with a fork.

  Hamilton frowned. “If I had the means,” he started.

  Arabella had never commented on the situation – it was not her place – but she had also never stood up to her father abo
ut his choice of control. Hamilton could not blame her, he was reluctant to upset the status quo for himself and his children.

  That might be why he was not expecting Arabella’s announcement.

  “I’m going to throw a ball,” Arabella said the next night in the library.

  Hamilton was looking over some estate documents, trying to catch up on everything that had been left to time while the storm was raging. Douglas was at the bureau in the corner, writing letters.

  “Arabella,” Douglas said, turning to look at her. “There is no cause.”

  “It’s Christmas,” Arabella said, keeping her chin high. Her hands were trembling – Hamilton could see the paper she was holding shaking – but she faced down her father, anyway. “I have sent out the invitations already.”

  “This is completely unacceptable.” Douglas stood slowly, looking furious. “I absolutely forbid it.”

  Hamilton frowned. “I don’t see the harm in a party.”

  It didn’t matter to him how they spent Christmas. He had hoped not that long ago that the storm would continue raging, and he would have the chance to spend Christmas with Miss Stewart. His children would have been terribly happy.

  Douglas came around to stand next to his daughter, glasses clutched in one hand. “Why would you do such a thing behind my back?”

  “It’s Philip’s house,” Arabella said defiantly.

  “Perhaps,” Douglas said. “But his father left the estate to me. I make the decisions!”

  “Uncle,” Hamilton said coldly, while standing slowly and dropping his documents to the chair. “I require your signature at the moment, but you are not in charge of this household.”

  It felt good to stand up to him, and though Douglas was smiling, his eyes were dark with anger. “You would do well not to cross me.”

  “You have already driven my children from their home,” Hamilton said, finding the courage he thought he had given up on. “You are set to drive me away too. I don’t know what could possibly hurt you about a Christmas party, but Arabella is throwing it.”

  Douglas took a breath, rocking on his feet, but he nodded sharply. “As you wish.” He left the room.