To Find a Duchess

by Lisa M. Prysock

  “Continue,” he said. He understood more than she realized...

  “She instructed me in English Literature, the History of Art, Mathematics, Geography, History, Music and Etiquette. The Baron made inquiry for a French tutor and I do speak un peu de Francaise.”

  “Did you like the Baron? Did you find him amenable?”

  “Oh yes! I liked him very much. He was a respected and kind man.”

  “So we have established the fact you've never before married. Have you any children?”

  “No, but I hope to someday. I've never been with a man, in a romantic way. I have no other people or obligations dependent upon me. All of my worldly goods are mine, free and clear. I have no debts or unpaid bills,” she said, guessing exactly the direction his line of questioning was headed.

  “You are very astute!” He explained, “As you know, a husband is legally responsible for the care and provision of his wife and her obligations. I only ask to ascertain any responsibility I should be aware of.”

  “What would your father say about your marriage to a mere farmer?”

  “I think he might give his blessing, were he here to meet you this day,” she said firmly. “You don't strike me as a mere farmer. You are... capable, in command, a born leader. I think you'd make a fine politician...”

  “How can you know?” he asked, one eyebrow going up as he considered his seat in the House of Lords.

  “Because if he were here, he would see for himself that you are the kind of man who will not fail me, nor anyone, nor anything.”

  “How can you be certain?” he asked.

  “I just am,” she said flatly. “I am a very good judge of character. You are no ordinary farmer. You are different.”

  “In what way?” he asked, smiling --but only a little, intrigued again.

  “Well, I cannot yet fully grasp it yet,” she said, twirling a curl of her hair as she spoke, and then resisting her urge to continue fidgeting, placing her hands in her lap as any well-bred young lady would know to do, “but I am certain you are quite confident --”

  “And?”

  “Well, kind Sir, I am not sure I should tell you,” she said, looking down at her hands.

  “Yes, you should tell me and you should tell me now.”

  “That is precisely what I mean, Sir,” she said, proceeding cautiously, but sitting up straighter. “I am a little afraid of you. I think no one shall cross you.”

  He laughed then, a great laugh, one that surprised even himself. He had not laughed so much since he could not remember when. She sat perched on the edge of her chair looking surprised and very much blushing as he laughed at her.

  When he had finished laughing she was looking down at her hands, still folded neatly in her lap, a little smile in one corner of her mouth. She was nearly pressing down on one of her hands so she would keep herself from fidgeting; a little trick her governess had taught her years ago. She did look a little frightened he thought. So much insight and truth came from her and a light seemed to shine around her there in that shabby room. Though the room was shabby, it didn't seem so anymore with her presence in it.

  “So you are afraid of me, a little?” he asked, more gently now.

  “Only a very little, Sir,” she admitted, smiling more.

  “Please, call me William,” he said.

  She looked up at him then, “William,” she repeated.

  “Why are you afraid of me, a little?” he asked, gently.

  She did not answer quickly. Her thick, wavy dark hair spilled around her shoulders, cascading down her arms past her elbows. Her cheekbones were strong and beautiful and her eyelids looking down covered her very inquisitive and intelligent eyes. Finally, still looking at her hands and purposely avoiding eye contact with him, she said softly, “Your manner of questioning me is needlessly stern, though I understand this is a very important decision to you... to both of us.”

  William wondered and marveled at her ability to draw so much truth out into the light of their conversations. “If I have been stern with you it has been for no other reason than to see who you really are.”

  Then she surprised him again, and laughing she said, “Well, I am a strong woman. I would not want a weak, mild mannered husband. Do I have permission to speak frankly?”

  “By all means, please do so.”

  She tilted her beautiful chin and said decisively, “I prefer a husband who is strong enough to weather whatever might come our way. I know that life's winds sometimes blow pain and grief in our path... sometimes very hard times come... but if we are both strong, we can get through it, together,” she said.

  For a moment there was silence in the little shabby parlor where the sunlight streamed in the front window, peeking through the curtains. William paced with his hands behind his back in a grip that seemed to ever tighten. He looked out the window over the lane before the little house for what seemed forever to both of them. She dared not interrupt his thoughts and remained pensive. How she wished she might be able to walk about the room. She had grown weary of sitting but she felt he was making his decision. If she moved, she would disturb his thoughts. If she remained where she was, she thought she'd burst trying to be still.

  He was thinking of the differences between Leah and Alexandra. Leah had been pretty but Alexandra was pure perfection. Leah did not make him smile and laugh as Alexandra did. He would spend a great many months or perhaps even years teaching Leah to laugh.

  Alexandra could easily capture any man's heart. She was charming, intelligent, practical, sweet like honey. Leah had bitterness to grapple. Leah had some family. She also seemed to have set her mind on becoming a governess. She had her mother at least. Alexandra, had no one. He knew she would put her whole heart and soul into their marriage. Leah, on the other hand, seemed to be running; indeed, planning her escape. She had given him the impression that it made no real difference to her whether she married or became a governess-- so long as she could escape her household. His only concern was her age. She seemed so young. He was seven years her senior, nearly a decade. If he did not however take this chance, he might lose everything he was about to inherit. He had to choose one of them.

  “I have made my decision,” he said.

  Chapter 6. The Hon. Alexandra Benningham Interviews “Mr. William Harcourt”

  Alexandra's heart seemed as though it would burst... she could feel it beating rapidly and was afraid he could hear it too. Her head was spinning with questions she stifled in order to hear what he had to say. She looked down at the floor in front of her but he had not continued speaking so she forced herself to look up at him.

  He had been waiting for her to do so. Only now that he had her attention he was not sure how to proceed. Theirs was a business arrangement at this point. He was certain she had questions. He had tested her character by putting her through rapid fire questions in a stern and mostly unemotional tone. He had left her little room for polite banter. He'd wanted to see what type of temperament she had. He had wanted to in part, push her limits. She certainly had a way about her.

  The less she asked him, the less he would have to undo later. He rather despised the situation he found himself in. Here was a woman he could see himself with for the rest of his days-- and yet he felt he had to test her motives by not unveiling his true identity just yet. Though she seemed young and naive and trusting, he was not entirely convinced he could trust her. Had they met a year or two ago, he would have had time to get to know her.

  He supposed in all fairness he should do the right thing by her and get down on bended knee, but it did not seem the right thing to do for a bride he'd ordered by mail. If things were to proceed according to plan, it was best to just be out with it. He would have to muddle his way through it the best he could. For once in his life, he did not seem quite so certain of anything. She was sitting there looking so beautiful and even a little frightened, and yet so sure of herself, what she was doing and where she was. She looked calm, but as though she was holding he
r breath. If he didn't speak soon she looked as though she would never exhale.

  He cleared his throat and drew in a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back again, “I know this seems awkward, and since this would be a marriage of convenience between us, at least in the beginning, I think you would not prefer me on bended knee. I have every hope that love will come in time, as we get to know each other. I have no children and I've never before been married.” He looked at her face to see if he should stop or proceed. She nodded for him to continue, listening carefully to his words. He continued, “I would like to extend an offer of marriage to you, if you are agreeable to the situation.” He looked up, straight over her head to the mantel, nearly as if he were standing at attention, waiting her reply as a soldier would wait for his next command.

  She finally exhaled. She brought her hands to her face and her hands covered her mouth and nose as if she were in a moment of thought and prayer, except her eyes were wide open now and full of cheerful surprise and delight. Still, she had questions. She could not yet answer him. She was almost sure she could live with this man before her for the rest of her life. Apparently he needed her as much as she needed him. He wore breeches worn thin and faded at the knees, dirty boots and a simple peasant shirt. He looked as though he needed a great deal of wardrobe help.

  She doubted his shirt had even been ironed. He wore no large amount of fobs or seals as so many fine gentlemen did; no, she'd caught sight of only a plain gold pocket-watch laying open on the table in the next room across the hall-- along with a stack of letters tied with a cord. He was a mere farmer but though he lacked a title, he seemed comfortable with his status in life and seemed to know exactly where his life was going next. It was almost frightening. He was even interviewing his future wife rather than allowing life to take a natural course. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he had little time or chance for meeting brides. His farm probably kept him busy and if he had little time for a social life, he had little chance to find a wife.

  “You have questions,” he said when he finally realized he had rendered her absolutely speechless.

  She was unable to speak again but nodded. Perhaps he had finally shaken her after all.

  He relaxed his stance and drew his feet together and shifted his weight. His hands drew to his side then instead of clasped tightly behind his back. Reluctantly he said, “You may ask me questions.”

  She wished her corset was not nearly so tight. She felt faint for a moment and then it passed but not without her turning a shade of light blue. She definitely should have eaten more this morning.

  He saw the color drain from her face. “Breathe,” he commanded.

  She nodded again and took several deep breaths until her lungs seemed to refill with air and color had returned to her face. Finally she found a few words, “Might we, Sir, Mr., uh, William, take a walk in the fresh air?”

  “Splendid idea.” He extended his folded arm to her, elbow out. She immediately slid her hands about his arm to steady herself.

  “There is a small garden beside the house. Would you like your bonnet?” he inquired.

  “Yes, please, excuse me,” she said as she withdrew from his arm and began to gather some of her locks into her hand. She clasped them in place behind the crown of her head and secured her bonnet by tying the bow under her chin. She'd left some hair down and some up. He was amazed at how well she could arrange her hair without assistance. She was certainly confident, but not overly so. He liked that about her.

  When William thought of all of the hours he'd waited on his Aunt Regina while a maid did her hair, it stunned him that this lady beside him could arrange her hair without so much as looking in the mirror. When she had finished tying the bow beneath her chin she once again drew near to him and he extended his arm again.

  They made it outside the door, down the steps, navigating the cracks and then followed a little footpath around to a small garden. The heat seemed less stifling out of doors than indoors. Shade trees provided patches of coolness on the ground and they lingered in those areas more slowly. When she had gathered her thoughts she began to breathe better. The idea of marrying a man based on one interview … someone she'd met through a newspaper advertisement still daunted her so much she could barely remember to breathe at all. What would the Baroness say when she discovered her promising ward had run off to marry a farmer? One that she barely knew at that! She would simply have to trust God with that aspect of the situation.

  She had already been over these thoughts a hundred times. Though this man was a stranger to her, she almost felt safe with him, in spite of her trepidations. He had an integrity and honesty in his eyes that calmed her from the first moment she'd met him. He seemed like someone who would protect his own with a vengeance. She pushed her concerns out of her mind as they walked comfortably in silence past shrubs that needed some manicuring, clumps of summer lilies, roses and bachelor buttons. Hydrangea wafted beneath their noses. She stopped beside the daisies and her eyes came to rest on a butterfly flitting from flower to flower in the sunshine. She looked up at him and softly asked, “Where is home?”

  “I own a farm north of a village called Hanwell, north of Banbury.”

  “In Oxford-shire then?” she asked as she surveyed the white picket fence bordering the little garden, badly in need of repairs. Several pickets looked as though they'd been kicked out, some broken or missing.

  “Aye,” he replied, guiding her around a stone meant to be part of the path through the garden. She hadn't seen it and would have stumbled had he not done so. “I have a cottage there, in considerably better shape and size than this house, but nonetheless, a humble home. It has about the same number of rooms, but more spacious.”

  “Then this is not your home?” she asked, still looking uncomfortably about the broken down little house and garden.

  “Nay,” he said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably realizing he would have to say something more convincing to clear the look of confusion on her face. “I merely rent this house or other appropriate accommodations when I am in London on business for the sale of crops, produce or other goods... livestock, horses. Whatever I might be selling ...or trading.”

  “Or when looking for a wife?” she asked. He looked at her in surprise and then realized she was laughing with him, not at him. A smile spread across his face and she noticed then he had dimples that made his face more handsome, more defined when he smiled. Then more seriously, he cleared his throat, waiting for her next question, wondering what she would ask and how he might reply.

  “I hope you don't do this sort of thing, often,” she cajoled him.

  His brow furrowed. He looked unmistakably panic stricken until he realized she was being humorous to ease the tension. He smiled. “Finding a wife has been more challenging than I thought it would. I can assure you, I expect this to be the only time... I would like our marriage to last, even if it is starting out like a business arrangement.”

  “Do you have family?” she asked as they stopped at a far corner of the small garden under a large, leafy oak tree offering a span of shade.

  “I have one brother, and an aunt and uncle,” he said as he stared out over the garden as if he were studying it.

  She looked pensive. “Then your parents have passed on also?” she inquired, looking up into his eyes, realizing they had much more in common than it had first appeared.

  He nodded his head to one side, “Yes. I was the age of ten when my parents died.”

  She stood there for a moment under the oak tree looking at him and decided not to ask more on the matter. In time, they would come to know everything about each other, down to the smallest of details.

  She took a step onto the garden path and he moved alongside her. She took some small pleasure in leading him with her own questions, but now that she had the opportunity to do so, her mind seemed to be completely blank. Everything and nothing swirled through her head all at the same time.

  “How would we st
eer around the posting of the banns, if I were to accept your offer?” she asked. “I do not think my benefactress would grant permission. I think she would do everything in her power to prevent a marriage to you. It is my belief she feels it her duty to introduce me to someone of the peerage. She feels bound after she promised my father she would look after me. In her mind, I am a Viscount's daughter first and foremost.”