by Alta Hensley
Chapter II
Philip went up the stairs, his eyes taking in the manor. The place could never be called quaint—in fact it was large enough to house a princess, yet not fancy enough. Philip had grown comfortable with his surroundings at the Ashby Chateau. He may not have lived a life of luxury ever since he'd been born, but he had done well for himself, and indulged in the finer things that life had to offer. He had expected gas lamps to line the path on his way inside, but only a single light had been stationed at the gate upon his entrance, and it had burned out. The grounds, though tended to, ought to have been trimmed again more recently; the grass was too high for his liking. The stone walls could have resembled a castle, had the stone been scrubbed clean of the offending mold sprouting on the side of the building. Adjusting his coat, he knocked on the front door.
The housekeeper opened it, barely cracking it wide enough to peek around.
"Good afternoon, madam." He bowed his head in greeting. "Philip Hartley. I am here to see Mr. Waters."
"Good afternoon, sir. Please come inside. The master will be with you in a moment," the housekeeper said. She led him into the foyer and offered to take his top hat and coat.
"Thank you," he said, standing in the front hall, his eyes darting over the starkly bare walls and the large staircase that led to the first floor. The house was in pristine condition, as if no one had ever lived inside it. A strangeness surrounded the place, the smell being oddly familiar.
Philip knew Mr. Jack Waters from his business dealings. He had worked with him on law contracts, and offered guidance whenever Mr. Waters suspected he was being swindled. Jack had invited him to dinner, though he did not quite know what the occasion was. He rarely mixed business with pleasure, but upon Jack's insistence, he had agreed.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Hartley," Jack said as he entered the foyer.
Philip smiled through tight lips. "There is no reason to be so formal. It is Philip." If they were here for dinner, then they surely may talk business, but he found no need for their conduct to be so tight and stuffy. Philip had friends, but very few outside of the community in which he lived. It was a nice change to be invited to dinner, especially one so elegant and formal. He hoped he had not under dressed for the occasion, in his white shirt, black trousers, and black striped waistcoat, with his tie tucked neatly down between his shirt and vest.
"Likewise. Come, we are ready to dine."
Philip raised an eyebrow, curious as to who else would be joining them for dinner. As far as he knew, Jack was not married and had no children. The man had several housekeepers who cared for his home, fed him a proper meal, and looked after him, but none that he was tied down to.
Philip followed Jack into the dining room and was quite surprised to see a lovely woman, a few years younger than him, sitting quietly and alone at the table. She was holding up her fork, glancing at her reflection in the silver. She looked quite lovely and nervous; her hand twitched at the realization that someone else had entered the room. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back and moved with her like a kiss from the wind, caressing her skin, as she turned her head to see what the commotion was all about.
As soon as her crystal blue eyes met his, she dropped the utensil on the table. It made a clanking sound as she pushed her chair back to stand.
"I do not believe we've met," Philip said, walking toward her, offering his hand. His eyes moved over her perfect creamy complexion and down to the dusting of freckles on her neck that dipped down to just above her breasts, where her gown prevented any further glimpse of her skin.
"My name is Etta Waters, sir."
Philip glanced from Etta to Jack. "You did not tell me you had a daughter."
"She is my niece," Jack said, quick to clarify his position. "My brother passed away a short time ago. Henrietta has come to live here with me, until I can find her a proper home. She has just arrived."
Philip's eyes narrowed. Had that been why Jack was quick to invite him? He wanted to marry the poor girl off? She was beautiful, no doubt, with her rosy cheeks and long blonde tresses, but he did not have time to look after a wife, especially one who was undoubtedly still grieving the loss of her father.
"I am not in need of a wife, Jack, if that was the implication of tonight's dinner."
"Of course not," Jack said, shaking his head. He took a seat at the table, waving his hand as if to dismiss such an idea. "I thought your new finishing school… Ashby Chateau, is it? I thought it might suit Henrietta perfectly."
"I prefer to be called Etta," she corrected firmly, yet still polite.
Jack shot a glare at Etta and then nodded toward Philip. "I believe it is quite clear what I mean."
Philip stared at the young blonde, considering the request. Nodding, he said, "Yes, I have recently opened a finishing school to prepare young ladies such as Miss Waters for marriage. Perhaps such an establishment would do a lady of her nature some good." He paused and studied the nervous young woman before him. Her mouth was open in shock, yet she remained quiet, even though she clearly wanted to speak. Turning his attention back to Jack, he added, "There would be, of course, a cost associated with her time at the Ashby Chateau."
"Yes," Jack said with a nod. "Whatever the cost, I would like her enrolled without delay."
"Are you expecting us to provide her with a suitable husband upon her graduation?" Philip asked. His eyes locked on the blonde. She looked scared to death, as if she was mere moments from bolting out of her chair. The poor young lady—just wait until she discovered what his finishing school was truly all about.
"It would be appreciated. I know you have men who come and frequent the chateau to find a dutiful and accomplished wife. Even though it's still early days, your establishment has already acquired quite the reputation. I would like to see Henrietta make a suitable marriage. She has a dowry, and I intend to increase it with the money from the sale of her father's estate."
"You cannot sell my home! I will not allow it!" Henrietta burst out, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
An interesting response, thought Philip. What had she thought would happen to the property once it was vacated? Up until now, this woman had sat very docilely, and yet it was clear a fire burned behind that soft appearance. He liked it.
"We will, and you must settle yourself down at once," Jack snapped. "Or I will have you taken to the study and caned before dinner begins."
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and pressed her lips together.
Philip cleared his throat before saying, "I see she could benefit from some time at Ashby Chateau." Henrietta fixed him with a murderous glare but said nothing more. "When were you anticipating enrollment of your niece?" Philip went on.
"Tomorrow would be preferable. Unless, of course, you have room in your carriage to bring her back with you this evening."
It seemed as though Jack did not want to waste a minute getting the young lady out of his care. Was she that difficult to manage, or had he no experience with women at all?
Henrietta did not say a word. Philip had not the slightest clue what was going through the young woman's mind. "She will ride with me and take only the clothes on her back," he said at length.
"My trunk is upstairs. It is already packed. You would not have to wait for me," Henrietta said. "I am prepared to leave when you are."
It surprised Philip that she did not argue about leaving her uncle behind, especially so soon after her arrival. Most girls kicked and screamed, throwing a temper tantrum at the first mention of finishing school. He suspected that Henrietta was not like most girls, though. It was quite clear that her submissive nature was in constant battle with her feisty one. Proper etiquette strangled her wild soul—her eyes revealed that secret. Perhaps he'd found himself a rare gem, a young woman for his own pleasure. It had been years since his first wife had passed on, and it was time he found himself a lady who would make him happy. Could it be Henrietta who would ease the pain and bring him such pleasure? St
aring at the little fireball with her arms folded across her chest, her pouty lips in a firm line, Philip couldn't help but be amused by her defiance. She was a rough gem, at that, and would need the strictest upbringing from Nanny Mae to ensure she understood her place at the chateau.
"Your clothes will be provided by Ashby Chateau, Henrietta. I assure you, any possessions you bring will, in most cases, be withheld from you anyway. It is best if you come as you are," Philip said.
"May I ask what I will be learning at your finishing school?" Henrietta's brow furrowed. The staff entered the dining room carrying trays of food, placing the first course of the meal in front of the diners.
Noticing the fact that she had reached for the wrong fork, he answered, "For starters, when to use which fork." Philip smiled at her discomfort. "There is a special school for young women who show promise and I do believe that you, my dear, will fit in with little Gracie and Leda quite nicely. Perhaps I will introduce them to you tomorrow morning at breakfast."
"I want reassurances that my niece will be married upon graduation," Jack said. "If she does not marry, then I will expect a full refund for monies paid."
Philip exhaled heavily. He should have known Jack would be one of the more problematic clients; the type who were most difficult and caused him to dislike his job at least once a week. "I assure you that the only time you will hear from me again will be with regards to your niece's dowry."
"Good." Jack nodded, seeming satisfied with that response. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping his brow that had been glistening with sweat.
Philip had a way of making a man nervous. He was not one of extreme power, such as Queen Victoria or even a soldier from the royal guard. Philip did, however, hold a great deal of wealth and property, and made his money investing in businesses across Britain. His strong build and dark features gave off an imposing aura, and many men lacked the temerity to meet him head on.
Henrietta waited until both gentlemen had selected the proper forks before she followed suit, and they ate dinner together. The room was bathed in an awkward silence, but Philip could see that Henrietta continued to sneak glances in his direction.
Philip had traveled several hours to arrive at Jack Waters' home, and would have several more of riding through the night to get back in time for tomorrow's lesson. Staying in an unfamiliar house was not an option for him. He preferred the comfort of the reliable and what he could count on, his own brand of family, which he himself had created.
His eyes danced up from his food to Henrietta. She had long thick black eyelashes that seemed both exotic and beautiful on her. They blanketed the crystal azure of her eyes. With her blonde hair, tiny frame, and sweet innocence, she very well could become his most prized pupil—with the proper training.
She caught him staring and blushed, not saying a word. She surprised him by not looking away, but bravely maintaining her glare.
Philip adverted his gaze, letting it drop to the salad he was picking at, not at all hungry. Travel never did him well, and he was in dire need of a good night's sleep.
"Tell me, Mr. Hartley, will I be given the opportunity to choose the man I wish to marry, as well?" She asked the question so sweetly, yet her eyes burned with insolence.
"Henrietta," her uncle warned. "Mind your place, young lady, or the cane will be awaiting your arrival."
She bit her lip, pushing the food around her plate as her eyes dropped to the table, evidently disappointed.
"We do try and make an appropriate match with regards to dowry and position. I assure you, this is what your father would have wanted for you," Philip responded, feeling as if her question deserved an answer.
Henrietta pushed her plate away. "You have no way of knowing that, Mr. Hartley. You never met my father."
"Henrietta!" Jack scolded his niece again.
"I am no longer hungry," she said. Pushing herself back from the table, she stood up.
"I did not excuse you, young lady." Jack's eyes narrowed, and his fist pounded the wooden table.
Philip watched the exchange between them. Was this her typical behavior, or did she not get along well with her uncle? He watched her with fascination as she stalked out of the room, stomping her feet in the process. A good hard spanking to her bottom would do her the world of good. However, it was not his place to do so… yet.
"Please tell me you will take her tonight," Jack all but growled. His jaw tightened as his control weakened.
"Of course," Philip said, nodding. "I shall draw up the paperwork as soon as we finish the meal. I assure you, Mr. Waters, your niece will be in very good hands. A proper education is just what she is in need of."
Chapter III
Etta could not believe the gall of Mr. Hartley. How dare he think he knew what her father would have wanted! Her father was dead, and she felt quite certain that Mr. Hartley had never met him. Surely if he had, she would have known about it.
She stormed up the stairs, struggling to find her bedroom. Opening and slamming doors, she finally came to a room which contained a bed. Her trunk was on the floor. She flipped the lock, lifting its lid in a huff.
How could she go with this stranger so easily? Although he seemed far more charming than her uncle; who was obviously a poor excuse of a relative who seemed to want her gone at the first chance possible.
Why did she have to go to a finishing school, though? She knew how to wear a dress and pin up her hair. She'd spent enough time among friends in her younger years to know how to conduct herself like a lady. She may not be accomplished in all things; playing the piano, for instance, and her table etiquette was a bit rusty, but she was still far from in need of a finishing school.
Her father had been gravely ill since she had turned fifteen, and his decline had only grown more evident as the unkind years ticked by. At one point she had assumed he would never see her sixteenth birthday, and when he had awoken on that Saturday morning, she found it a miracle that he did indeed look better.
Her father had good days and bad. His health was on a constant decline, his memory fading in his later years, until he no longer recognized his daughter upon seeing her.
It saddened Etta; watching him die, unable to help him the way she had wanted to. Would this have been what her father wanted for her? To attend Ashby Chateau? It did not sound so terrible compared to living with Uncle Jack. He barely seemed to say two words to her. Why did he hate her so much? What had she done to him as a child that made him resent her so?
Her fingers pushed through the mounds of clothes she had brought. How could she be expected to leave her possessions behind? It had been terrible enough leaving her home, and now she was being told to leave behind everything but the few clothes on her back as well?
Balling the dresses up into her fists, she threw them across the room, screaming as tears trickled down her face. "I hate him!" The words echoed through the room and most likely down the stairs. Could her uncle hear her fit of rage? Would he be angry about her displeasure toward him? He'd opened up his home to her and was paying for her to attend finishing school, though Etta assumed the money would be coming from her father's estate, once it had been sold.
"That is not a very nice thing to say," Philip said. He was standing outside the door.
Etta wiped the tears away. She had not known anyone had been watching her. "I thought you were still eating," she muttered.
"I do not have much of an appetite when I travel. The paperwork has been drawn up. All I have to do is sign, and you will come and join me at Ashby Chateau."
Etta sat on the floor, with nightgowns at her feet and dresses strewn throughout the room. What did he think of this display? Would he assume she behaved this way for attention? It had not been easy losing her father. To this day, the weight of the loss smothered her and made her feel as though she were drowning in a constant sea of misery.
"You have not signed yet?" she asked.
"I would like it to be your choice to attend, Etta."
She relaxed slightly at hearing him call her by the nickname her father had given her, for the first time. "How can I know what I want, when I do not understand what will be expected of me?"
"That is a good question. I assure you, many young ladies are brought in, most younger than you are. Which is why I want your acceptance. You will come downstairs and sign the contract with your uncle. It reads that you agree to attend, and that you will follow the rules of the establishment. Your uncle may control your assets but you are of legal age, Etta. I would like your consent, as well."
Surprised that he cared enough to ask, she nodded slowly. If she did not agree to go with him, would she still be forced to attend Ashby Chateau? What about her uncle? Would he keep her dowry and the money from her father's estate without giving her a penny? Jack certainly did not seem keen to have her, already wanting to see her whisked away on the very first night.
"I shall sign it," Etta said. What choice did she really have? Her family was gone. Maybe a new beginning, away from a man her father had not spoken to in over a decade, was a wise decision.
"Good girl." Philip smiled. "Now, come downstairs. We shall be leaving shortly after the contract is ready."
Etta stood and glanced back at the mess of gowns thrown haphazardly across the room. "I really can't bring any of it with me?" The thought of leaving the last of her things behind brought her to tears again.
Philip stepped into the room, his hands finding her arms. He stood there, staring deep into her eyes. "I assure you, you will not be needing those dresses at Ashby Chateau."
"And what about when I am married? I shall have nothing then."
"Your Uncle Jack will bring your gowns when he brings the dowry to your husband. Let him keep the dresses here for safe keeping. In fact, I will make a note of it in the contract, so he will be forbidden from destroying or selling the gowns."
Etta wiped the last of her tears away. "Thank you, Mr. Hartley. You have been incredibly kind to me."