“Well?” Lady Thornshire asked, trying not to sound anxious.
“Well,” Christina began, folding the letter and putting it in her lap, “his penmanship is atrocious.”
“Leave it to the tutor to attempt to grade his work,” Lady Hardigree muttered, rolling her eyes.
“That is to say,” Christina continued, shooting an irritated glance at the Duchess, “that the poor quality of his writing leads me to believe this was written in haste and under extreme emotional duress. Therefore, I think it is genuine.”
“Do you really? You honestly believe he means what he says?” Lord Thornshire asked, sounding hopeful for the first time in days.
“I do. And I say that as someone who not only despises the Marquess for the pain he has inflicted on Luci, but also as someone who has been bold enough to tell him so directly,” she added.
“But now? What has changed? And what of his story in these pages, do you think he earnestly believes his own version of the truth?” the Earl asked, listening intently to Christina’s opinion.
She weighed her words carefully, sensing the palpable upset that all in the room felt. Christina thoughtfully said, “My Lord, I have dwelled in that house and seen the disrepair with my own eyes. For weeks, the sounds of hammers pounding the roof were a constant throbbing in our heads. But I’ve also spoken with the servants at Ashworth, most of whom were newly hired and therefore not in attendance when the terrible event occurred. All I can say for certain is that something happened there, and that it weighs upon the Marquess daily.”
She reopened the letter and pointed to different passages along the page. “Where he remarks about the great pain he has felt, that is the truest notion I can imagine. Where he further says that ruining you was the only thing that kept him from taking his own life in his misery, I must say that I believe that as well. But nothing stands out to me on this page so much as what he says last.”
Christina held the letter up closer and cleared her throat, then read, “But I have nothing in the world nor have I ever had anything so valuable to my heart as your daughter, Luci. If you can forgive me, I will endeavor to put her happiness, her well-being, and her future at the forefront of everything I will ever do or say.”
Lady Thornshire dabbed at her eyes gently, overcome once again to hear how much her daughter was loved. She nodded briefly, but still did not offer a word in support of Lord Ambergrave.
“So you are under the impression that we can trust him?” Lord Thornshire confirmed.
“I believe it to be so, but My Lord, if I may ask. Why is my opinion on the matter so important?” Christina asked, looking around.
Lord Thornshire looked to his wife and then to his sister-in-law, the three of them wearing equally blank expressions that failed to belie their concerns. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a second letter, then held it out to Christina.
“Lord Ambergrave also wrote to Luci.”
Christina took the outstretched paper and held it in her hands. She looked at the Earl sharply and said, “You’ve read it? Her personal correspondence?”
“Yes, I have,” he admitted sheepishly. “I could not trust the man not to say something so wretched that it caused her any further harm, any permanent harm. It is not a decision I made lightly, I assure you.”
“While I am appalled at the notion, I can confess that your intentions were clearly centered on her best interest,” Christina said, though it pained her to take his side in the matter. “But once again, My Lord, I am at a loss. Why do I now possess her letter?”
“I was… well, I was hoping you would read it and make a determination as to whether or not we should give it to her,” Lord Thornshire replied, looking very uncomfortable at his own assessment.
“So I am requested to read a private letter between a man and his wife, and then come to a decision as to whether or not her father should allow her to have the letter. Is that correct?” Christina asked.
Again, looks were exchanged all around. Lady Hardigree harrumphed loudly in exasperation only to be silenced with another swat of Lady Thornshire’s fan.
“My Lord, I have decided that I shall not read it, as it would not be proper,” Christina announced firmly. “I shall also inform Lady Ambergrave of her correspondence—”
“You’ll do what?” Lady Hardigree shouted, obviously distraught at both the treachery and the insolence, but Christina ignored her.
“—and allow her to decide whether to read or respond. We are all of us, and I do mean myself included, making a grave error in continuing to treat Lady Ambergrave like a frivolous child. She is a married woman and a Marchioness, and it is time that both she and the people around her expected a certain maturity from her.”
Christina stood up to leave and the Duchess moved to say something. She was prevented by Lady Thornshire, who quietly nodded at Christina.
“I do know that you had every best intention for Luci, My Lord. I shall remain with her as she reads the letter and provide any assistance or comfort she may need.” Christina curtseyed and walked to the door, then turned back to say, “You have my assurance that should she need your guidance, I will suggest that she seek you out immediately.”
Chapter 27
“Good day, My Lord. What brings you out here?” Collin asked, looking up at Gideon and squinting into the sun.
“Good day to you as well, Collin,” Gideon answered, attempting to smile but failing in the effort. “I’m going to take Jacques out for his exercise. Care to join us?”
“Of course. But I thought you were gone to Stonefield Park? I held off on pruning in the front so I could have it freshly done for your return in two weeks.” Collin looked worried about his work, but Gideon shook his head.
“I had intended it to be so, but… well, my plans have changed.” Gideon looked away as he headed towards the stable, but Collin pressed him further.
“If you’re returned home, wouldn’t Lady Ambergrave prefer to ride Jacques? I know he’s her favorite horse,” the boy said. “When she’s done, I was going to show her a new variety of flower that I thought she might like for me to plant along the hedgerow.”
“Alas, Lady Ambergrave has elected to stay at Stonefield for the time being,” Gideon started to say, but his tone gave him away.
“Is everything all right, My Lord? You seem… you seem sad.”
“I’m fine, Collin,” Gideon said, covering the waver in his voice with a cough. He entered the stable to fetch Jacques, but Collin followed him inside and down the row of stalls.
“Have you argued with Lady Ambergrave again?” Collin asked, an innocence in his voice that excused any impudence. Gideon had to laugh at the attempt at an angry expression the boy wore.
“What makes you say that, rascal?”
“I can tell when you’re not saying the whole story. It’s just as when you’re about to bowl a bouncer to me, but you end up chucking it instead. You make this odd face where you look like you’ve smelled something rancid.” Collin mocked Gideon’s expression, which only made the Marquess laugh.
“I do no such thing, you silly boy. And I do not chuck it, that is prohibited in cricket,” Gideon said, skirting the issue at hand.
“And now you’re doing this other thing where you try to talk of other things instead of what I really want to ask about, like that day I was put out because Ma would not tell me where babies come from.” Collin pinned him back with a knowing glare, one that was wise beyond his years.
“When did you get so smart?” Gideon asked.
“When did you decide to return home without Lady Ambergrave?” Collin persisted.
“It was not a decision that I made lightly,” he began, but then he somberly added, “or in truth, that I made at all. She is very unhappy with me at the moment, and she has every reason to be.”
“Were you harsh?” the boy asked, something of his childlike wonder at the world appearing beneath the surface of his question.
“Yes, you could say tha
t I was,” Gideon acknowledged as he reached for Jacques’ bridle from its hook.
“Why would you do something so daft?” Collin asked, cocking his head and reaching for lead line to hand over.
“Ahem. I’m certain I’m supposed to remind you that you shouldn’t speak that way to your elders,” Gideon chided kindly, but he softened further as he said, “But yes, I was ridiculously stupid. And now I shall suffer for it.”
“My Lord, let me give a word of advice,” Collin said seriously. Gideon fought to stifle a laugh, but he nodded and waited patiently. “You have to make it up to her. No matter what was said or who began it all, you are the man and therefore you must take the blame.”
“Who taught you that?” Gideon asked, incredulous.
“No one. I figured it for myself,” the boy answered. “See, there is a girl at my school and I’m rather fond of her. She’s very nice and fairly pretty, but loves books almost as much as I do. But I’m smart, you see… smart enough to know that she’s even smarter. If I’ve offended her in some way but I don’t know what it is, then I trust that she does know.” Collin shrugged his shoulders as if it were the simplest matter in the world. “So that means I should make amends and try not to do it again.”
“But if you don’t know how you’ve offended her, how will you know how not to repeat your error?” Gideon inquired, playing along.
“I’m certain she’ll tell me,” Collin said. “But to be serious now, we men have all the advantages in the world. We own the land, we earn the income, we inherit from our fathers where our sisters cannot, we rule the governments and the countryside, we declare wars and we fight them if we choose… and the women just have to go along with it. The very least we can do is do our best to make them smile.”
Gideon studied the boy for a long moment, appraising him with a keen eye. Finally, he nodded.
“When did you become so wise? Were you not the same boy who was thrown from a mule and kicked soundly last year while trying to ride standing on its back?” Gideon arched an accusing eyebrow, but Collin only laughed.
“I was just a young tyke then,” he joked, taking on a very manly stance with his fists at his waist. “Now I’m a man of eleven and I’ve learned a thing or two.”
“I dare say, you are certainly more clever than me,” Gideon acknowledged, bowing low. “Then if that is so, perhaps you would like to ride Jacques for a while so that I might prepare to return to Stonefield Park?”
“It would be my pleasure, My Lord,” Collin said, returning his bow. “Would you please give my best to Lady Ambergrave? And tell her that I hope to see her again soon?”
“I will if she’ll see me,” Gideon thought as he strode towards the house. “And I hope to see her again myself.”
Christina hesitated outside the door to her young mistress’ chambers. She raised her hand to knock—heeding her own advice about changing her ways and treating “Lady Ambergrave” as befitting her station. But she stopped, her curled fingers hovering in midair, and dropped her head.
No matter what this letter contains, nothing will ever be the same. She stood, looking down at the letter. She was of half a mind to read it herself, despite her admonishment of Lord and Lady Ambergrave. After all, if they already knew its contents, what harm would there be in Christina knowing?
No, it would not be right, certainly not for someone in my position. Her parents, even while looking out for her interests and as her equals in station, should not have done so. Far be it from me to forget my place.
Christina knocked firmly and waited, but there was no sound from within. At first her face felt flush with shame, as though Luci would prevent her from entering, but then she was overcome with concern. What if the girl had stumbled in her weakened state? What if she had taken to her bed again, or had done herself some harm?
Flinging open the door, Christina was greatly relieved to see why Luci was prevented from answering. The poor girl, having finally begun eating her meager bedside fare, had called for a more substantial meal, one she was enjoying greatly.
“Oh, Christina!” Luci managed to say between bites of potatoes, “I’m glad you’re here. Is there any word about Jacques?”
“My Lady, I completely forgot to ask, as there is some important news I received from your father,” the governess said, curtseying briefly.
Luci looked at her wide-eyed, pausing in the midst of chewing a small morsel. She finally swallowed, frowned deeply, and waved at Christina’s upright posture and distance from the table. “What is this? My Lady? A curtsey? Whatever brought that on?”
“It is befitting your station, My Lady,” Christina explained in a formal tone. “Certain events have called to mind my actions all these years. I have come to realize that you have not been treated in a manner to which you should be. Too many of us—myself included at the forefront—have continued to see you as a child in need of coddling and correction rather than the Marchioness which you now are.”
Luci stared for a moment longer, then said, “Well, stop it. I don’t like it.”
“It’s only because it is strange to you now. You will grow accustomed to it in time, I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to grow accustomed to it. You’re my dearest friend, no matter whether it’s because you’re paid to do so or not. And as for my parents, we’ve never stood on ceremony. Our family is rather the exception in that we are close, loving, and fondly familiar.” Luci pouted, looking very much like the child Christina was trying to stop her from being.
“Well then, I propose a compromise,” Christina said, coming closer. “There shall be times when I can serve as your confidant and companion, but at other times, you must comport yourself as is fitting for your title.”
“I still don’t like it,” Luci argued crossly. “Is this the urgent news that you’ve brought from my father? That I am not behaving like a noblewoman? Because if recent events are any indication, I don’t think I shall be a Marchioness for very long.”
Christina looked down at the letter she fairly well concealed in her hands. “No, I’m afraid it is not. It is something I’ve come to realize wholly on my own.” Holding up the letter, she said, “This came for you… from Lord Ambergrave.”
Luci immediately turned away, as though even looking upon his letter could harm her. “Take it away. He is a liar and a traitor, and I want nothing to do with him.”
“My Lady… Luci… please heed my advice.” Christina looked at the chair as though awaiting permission to sit, which Luci granted with a flick of her hand. Sitting down across from Luci, the governess said, “Whatever this letter contains, it cannot be ignored. You must send a reply, as well.”
“I shall do no such thing. Lord Ambergrave no longer exists, so far as I’m concerned,” Luci said haughtily, turning her back on the offensive writing.
“Luci, this is one of those moments I just spoke of. Am I to treat you as a noblewoman or a child? It is your decision,” Christina said, a familiar hint of warning in her voice.
Luci paused. “I don’t suppose I could avoid being either one? Can I not simply be a young lady who doesn’t wish to endure any more sorrow at the moment?”
“My dear girl, I’m afraid you cannot,” the governess replied with genuine sympathy. “This letter may contain a demand for a divorce, which would impact your life terribly. It might contain a heartfelt apology, though, with declarations of undying love. You shall never know, not unless you read it.”
Christina held out the letter to her, but Luci faltered. She looked at Christina morosely and asked, “What if it is not what I want to hear?”
“What is it that you wish to hear? What do you hope for on this page?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Luci whispered. “I want… I want to be as happy as I was for those few brief days, from the moment when I opened my eyes and my adoring husband was sitting beside me, praying fervently that I might wake up.”
“And what shall you do if this letter doesn’t promise that?”
Christina pressed.
“Take to my bed again and wait for death?” Luci asked with a timid smile. Christina shook her head firmly. Luci added, “I thought not. I don’t know, I suppose I shall just have to go on in the world of the living, won’t I?”
“Of course. But now you haven’t answered the most important question,” the governess continued, still dangling the letter between her fingers enticingly. “What if the happiness you want isn’t with Lord Ambergrave? Or worse, what if it is?”
“How can it be?” Luci asked, shrugging her thin shoulders. “After all he’s done? I don’t see how it’s possible.”
“What if he is a changed man, one who was only driven to revenge by years of grief and anger?” Christina smiled reassuringly. “Would that cause you to change your mind?”
A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 23