Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “You are not callous. It’s Atwater who’s callous.” Judith lifted her head to kiss Phoebe’s cheek. The two women spied Mary hovering outside the door for a moment; Phoebe smiled in a beckoning manner. Judith glared petulantly, and Mary continued down the hall.

  After the disagreement she’d had with Lord Thomas, Phoebe hadn’t wanted to get involved with the scandal any more than she was. But she couldn’t let a friend down in a time of need.

  Lady Judith continued her laments until it was time to go to the dining room for dinner.

  *******

  After spending the night on Wimpole Street, Lady Judith was transported by hansom back to St James Square to dress for the funeral. She knew there would be a scene if she went to the luncheon on Regent Street. But that could work in her favour. If she couldn’t get Atwater to come back to her of his own accord, she would need help. And tears had never failed her.

  With the help of the maid, she pulled on her black bombazine mourning frock and donned her flat black straw bonnet. The maid had sewn some jet beads onto the brim of the hat and added a curling black plume and black silk ribbons. Lady Judith smiled and made a mental note to thank the girl personally. She decided that when she was Duchess she would keep the girl for her personal lady’s maid. The lady’s maid who’d travelled with Lady Judith throughout Europe was gone. Gone forever.

  *******

  Lady Phoebe didn’t want to go to the funeral for the 1st Duke of Atwater and the Marquess of Hempstead. It was all so very sad. And she had no desire to see the new Duke. Since Judith had befriended her, Phoebe always felt odd whenever Atwater was in the vicinity.

  She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt drawn to him in an inexorable way. However, she’d heard nothing good about him. It had seemed lately that the only story on the lips of the ton was of Atwater’s alleged abandonment of Lady Judith. There seemed to be no option for an alternate point of view.

  And each time Phoebe had seen him socially, he’d been curt to the point of rudeness. She wondered why she felt so cut by his attitude.

  Then there was Lord Thomas. He didn’t join in any of the storytelling, nor did he defend his friend directly. Phoebe had noticed, though, that when the topic of Atwater came up in social situations, and come up it did, again and again, Lord Thomas would attempt to point out what the facts, and only the facts of the situation were.

  The attempt would fall on deaf ears, and Lord Thomas would end up exiting the conversation. It seemed the ton derived great joy from vilifying one of their own. Thomas appeared disgusted by the attitude.

  The whole mess discouraged and disappointed Phoebe. But there was no way to avoid the funeral. Illness would be the only acceptable excuse, which was why Lady Phoebe would be unaccompanied to the church and the cemetery. Her father, Duke Carlisle, was feeling poorly.

  “Mary, I’ll be wearing the black bombazine just as every other woman. Will you get it from the clothes press? I know we’re supposed to be sad, and I am, but this flat black is so dingy and unappealing. Silk would look so much better. Losing loved ones and friends is horrible enough without having to look hideous.” Phoebe pinched her cheeks and smoothed her chignon.

  Mary smiled slightly and handed Phoebe her bonnet. “You could never look ugly, My Lady. Now, will you see His Grace before you leave? He was sleeping like a baby when I checked on him not ten minutes ago.”

  “No. Let him rest, Mary. My father and the old Duke Atwater were close. I daresay this has taken the wind out of His Grace’s sails.” Phoebe looked around to be sure she had everything she needed. “There is luncheon at the house on Regent Street after the cemetery. I imagine the whole of it will be over by two o’clock. I’ll see my father when the doctor comes later this afternoon. Thank you, Mary.”

  Mary finished buttoning up the back of Lady Phoebe’s dress and placed a light shawl over her shoulders. “There you are, My Lady. The cabriolet is ready and waiting. Will … will Lord Thomas be escorting you?”

  “Lord Thomas? Yes, but then he’ll desert me to stand with the new Duke Atwater. You recall Lord Thomas and I had a disagreement last night about His Grace.”

  “Yes, My Lady. But I find it noble that Lord Thomas would stand by his friend.” Mary clasped her hands together with a faraway smile. Since she had entrusted Lady Phoebe with the contents of her heart, where Lord Thomas was concerned, Mary had become quite open in her expressions about the gentleman.

  Phoebe smiled to see her maid so enchanted, but a cold feeling played around her own heart at the thought of Lord Thomas and Mary. Mary was of another class altogether.

  Tom was a second son with no prospects other than his law practice. The practice was successful, but still his place within the peerage was shaky at best. If a marriage were ever to take place, Mary would be raised up. But Tom would lose most of his already slim social rank.

  “Yes, loyalty is to be condoned. And now there are those who are softening towards the Duke because of his recent tragedy.”

  “And I daresay because of his recent rise in status, My Lady.”

  “Yes, everyone wants to move up. But what the Duke did to Lady Judith is unforgivable, Mary.”

  “Yes, My Lady. If he did it.”

  “What do you mean? If he did it?”

  “There are actually only two individuals involved in the scandal, My Lady. One says one thing, the other says something else. The ton has chosen to believe Lady Judith up to now. But, she is a mere woman. And Lord Robert ... well, he is a Duke now. The hawks are sharpening their talons deciding who holds the key to their betterment in society. The scandal is one’s word against the other’s. And, from where I stand, His Grace has the advantage. At least for the time being.”

  “Well, I believe Judith, but I’m trying to stay neutral in my words and actions.”

  “My Lady, May I speak plainly?”

  “Of course. What do you have to say?”

  “You allowed Lady Judith to stay here last night. Do you think that is a neutral action?”

  “Oh la! Mary! Am I expected to turn my back on someone in need? You said yourself that I could be a helping hand and not take sides.”

  “Yes, My Lady. But by believing Lady Judith, you’ve already taken sides. And then ...”

  “And then, what? Do you have any hints on how I might better manoeuvre the situation?”

  Mary looked down and said nothing.

  “Mary? What would you do?”

  “I would like to think, My Lady, that what I would do is remember that men are not exclusive to lying.”

  “You mean, you think Lady Judith is lying?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Not necessarily? That tells me nothing. Why are you talking in circles?”

  “I don’t know if she’s lying, but I think, I think Lady Judith might not be who she says she is.”

  “But what does that mean? If she is not who she says she is, doesn’t she immediately become a liar?”

  “Lord Thomas is in the sitting room, Lady Phoebe.” Mr. Harris, the butler came in to announce that Phoebe’s escort had arrived.

  “Mary, let us talk later.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  “Please go and entertain Lord Thomas until I come down.” Phoebe smiled. “Go now.” She laughed and shooed the girl away. She wondered if there was anything she could do to enable Mary and Tom to be together.

  *******

  Lady Phoebe came back from the luncheon on Regent Street, exhausted. The double funeral had been a most sombre affair, some ladies delicately dabbing their eyes with linen handkerchiefs, while others needed their salts. Still others, in hysterics, had to be escorted from the church.

  The luncheon had been no better. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Terence had tried to place Lady Judith away from the new Duke, but she would hear none of it. Regardless of how he had treated her, her cousin needed her now, she’d said loudly. She was the only real family he had left she’d said. And the Duke ha
d nodded to Terence to put the woman wherever she wanted to be, if only to quiet her.

  Lady Phoebe’s heart had gone out to Atwater for just a moment then. She saw, very clearly, how Lady Judith had manipulated the situation in her favour. Much as she had done the night before with Phoebe. And as of today, Lady Judith had barely acknowledged Phoebe’s presence. It seemed very strange indeed, and Phoebe’s thoughts went back to Mary’s and Lord Thomas’ words.

  Could she be wrong about Lady Judith? Phoebe closed her eyes willing herself to come back to her senses. Her head was aching. It was time to leave. She’d asked Terence to have Dan ride her home as she hadn’t wanted to disturb Lord Thomas who’d stood by Atwater all morning and afternoon. Atwater and Lord Thomas were deep in conversation.

  She ducked out through the area and around the back to the mews. She wanted to avoid both Atwater and Judith.

  Once home, Phoebe placed her hand upon the stair rail and slowly made her way up the steps. Mary hurried to her as she stepped onto the second floor. “My Lady, come quick. It’s His Grace.”

  “What’s wrong, Mary?” The maid took Phoebe’s hand, and they rushed to the bedchamber door.

  “I sent for the doctor, My Lady. I was about to send for you. Thank Heavens you’re here.”

  Lady Phoebe threw the door to the chamber open and went to her father’s bedside. She sank to her knees, taking the elderly man’s hand. “Father, it’s me. Phoebe.”

  Duke Carlisle’s breathing was laboured, his face white, and little beads of sweat stood out along his brow. He cracked his eyes open and attempted a smile. “My Phoebe,” he whispered. “Such a good girl. I love you. Be good.”

  “I’ll be good, Papa.” Tears sprang to Phoebe’s eyes. Her father’s condition had plummeted in the three hours she’d been gone from the house.

  The Duke patted her hand which rested on his weakening heart. “Be good to …” the effort of speaking was sapping up his remaining energy.

  “I will Papa.”

  “... the Duke.”

  “I don’t understand, Papa.” Phoebe’s eyes met Mary’s with the question. What is he saying?

  “Atwater.” The old duke closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, they held the glow of fever.

  “What do you mean, Papa?”

  “I see, your mother.” He smiled and closed his eyes once more never to reopen them.

  “Papa! Papa!” Lady Phoebe called to her father. “Please, speak to me.”

  The doctor stepped into the room and put his hands on her shoulders. He helped her stand up. “He’s gone, Lady Phoebe. I’m very sorry.”

  Mary came and helped Phoebe upstairs to her bedchamber. “Oh Mary, how could this have happened?”

  “Doctor Smead said the typhus is taking many of the elderly, My Lady.”

  “It’s awful, the old Duke, the Marquess, and now my father ... it feels as if it’s too much to bear. And why did my father talk about Atwater? He must have been delirious. So strange. But he did know the Weston brothers since they were children. And the old Duke Atwater and he were close. Or as close as gambling cronies can be.

  “And now I’ll never be able to speak to my father again.” Phoebe broke down in tears. Mary helped her undress and tucked her in to the big soft feather bed with a hot decoction to calm her. Phoebe drank the elixir and handed the cup to her maid.

  “Rest now, Lady Phoebe. I’ll sleep here on the chaise in case you need anything during the night. Mr Harris is taking care of the arrangements.”

  “Thank you Mary.” Phoebe barely had the words out before she was asleep.

  *******

  Two days later, Lady Phoebe and Mary were transported to Pinebrook Manor. Typhus was running rampant in London, and though Phoebe had survived it after her return from Paris, it was wise to get away from the hysteria and sadness that gripped the city. Anyone who could leave was doing so until the disease had run its course.

  Mr Harris, the butler, had indeed made all the arrangements. When the women arrived in the country, Phoebe was delighted and relieved to find the staff had prepared the huge house for their stay.

  The housekeeper, after expressing her condolences, asked to see Lady Phoebe privately.

  “Mrs Crabtree, I have complete confidence in your capabilities. My father has done nothing but rave about them since my mother died. I know you’ve not only done your job but also many of the duties of the lady of the house since then. Now that I’m to be lady of the manor, I’d like to continue with things as they’ve been. That is as long as you don’t find it too taxing. I have no wish to usurp your authority.” Phoebe smiled at the older woman who had always been very kind to her.

  “Not at all, My Lady. I only felt that you would want to take over as mistress.”

  “It’s so overwhelming, Mrs Crabtree.”

  “I’ll do whatever pleases you, My Lady. And I have this for you as well.” She handed Phoebe a letter sealed with the crest of the Earl of Portree, Phoebe’s cousin, and her father’s heir.

  “When did this arrive?”

  “This morning, My Lady.”

  “Hmm. Seems he doesn’t have the Carlisle seal ... he’s still using the Portree crest.” Phoebe opened the letter and began to read. “He’s coming from Scotland to claim his inheritance. I don’t think I’d recognize him if he stood up in my soup! I haven’t seen him since I was ten years old. He says he shall be here in a few days’ time. This letter was written the morning after my father’s death. The earl has wasted no time.”

  Phoebe sat in one of the delicate chairs of her tiny sitting room. She rubbed her forehead with her fingers and sighed. “Mrs Crabtree, whatever happens, I want you to know I’ve valued your employment immensely. If the Countess of Portree decides to change things, you will come with me. You, Mr Harris, and Mary. If things change drastically, I can keep only the three of you.”

  “We thought things would change after your dear mother passed, My Lady. But your father said he would never let us go unless that’s what we wanted. Even when he thought to marry again.”

  “I never knew my father thought to marry again. He never said anything about it.”

  “The Duchess of Crosston made a play for your father, My Lady, and the Duke was lonely. She was an audacious woman, quite bewitching many said. The two were close to making marriage arrangements when the lady said she would be replacing the staff here, and in London, with her own people. Your father told her that her staff was more than welcome to mingle with the staff he already had. We would make it work was what he said.” Mrs Crabtree looked up at the portrait of the Duchess Carlisle, so like Phoebe.

  “Your father was a good man. And your mother a sweet, kind woman. If ever two people should have had the chance to grow old together, it was the two of them. When the Duchess Crosston became insistent about changing everything here at Pinebrook, right down to the furnishings, the Duke refused. He put his foot down as firmly as anyone I’ve ever seen. He said no, and he told the Duchess that she was free to leave the engagement if she saw fit. Which, thank Heavens, she did.”

  “My goodness. My father never told me this.”

  “No, and there was never reason for it, My Lady. I repeat it only to instill further in you the knowledge that your father, God rest his soul, was the fairest, kindest, most loyal master any of us have ever known. I will miss him fiercely, but rest easy in the knowledge that he is with your sweet mother in eternity.” The housekeeper smiled. “Will you have a nap here on the chaise? I’ll wake you for dinner, My Lady.”