After the puppy was returned to the family, it was plain to see the dog was indeed a small collie bitch. A dog bed was procured and Benedict named the pup 'Holly the collie', which tickled them all.
After a few weeks of good food and kindness, the dog filled out and became Benedict's shadow. Holly's intelligent green eyes followed him whenever he moved about the room and soon the two were inseparable friends.
One morning, while the family was still seated at breakfast, a footman arrived. He bowed and presented Benedict with a wax sealed note. The paper was of the highest quality and the seal caught his eye and made his eyebrow lift in astonishment. Frederick Lord North, Prime Minister, what on earth? Benedict ripped open the letter and his face paled as he read the contents. Beatrice looked at her son anxiously, "Benedict, what is wrong?"
He shook his head and gulped. "I cannot believe the audacity of the man!" he spluttered angrily, handing the letter over to his mother. Beatrice took the proffered note and scanned it quickly.
"An American girl... Matrimony! Oh, Benedict, whatever shall you do?" Beatrice sat back in her chair and fanned herself with the letter.
"By Hades, I shall travel up to London and confront the blasted man. The bloody audacity of the fellow, ordering me to marry this colonial chit!"
Imogene leant forward and asked excitedly, "Lord North has commanded that you marry someone? Whatever have you been up to, Benedict, and whoever is this woman?"
"I haven't been up to anything! Really, Immy, I worry about the conclusions that you jump to about me, I really do!"
Beatrice handed the letter across to Imogene and stood up walking over to pull the bell pull. A footman arrived and bowed his head, "Ma'am?"
"Fetch Roberts please, Jones," she instructed.
"Very good, ma'am," Jones left the room and Benedict followed him out, muttering darkly to himself.
"Why has Lord North chosen Benedict to marry this girl do you think, Mother?" Imogene asked, placing the offending letter down on the table next to her plate.
Beatrice glanced at her daughter and sighed, "I feared something of this nature might occur after your brother snubbed Lady Amelia at the debutant ball last year. She wanted Benedict for her gal Margaret but he was having none of it. Amelia has the King's ear and I might be wrong in my supposition but I suspect she is behind the whole of this. As to the gal, I have no idea who she is but I am quite certain she must be of some consequence for the King and Lord North to consider her as matrimonial material for a peer of the realm. Finish your breakfast, Imogene, I am going to see Roberts and arrange for us to travel to London with Benedict. This episode will require diplomacy and if there is one thing that your brother Benedict lacks, it is tact!"
Holly whined anxiously, sensitive to the charged atmosphere in the room. Imogene patted the dog's head absently, thinking about the drama unfolding. If Benedict had to marry this American woman, Imogene realized she would become her sister-in-law. What a lark that would be! Really, what an exciting morning this had turned out to be.
Benedict met up with his chums at his gentlemen's club later that day. He swung his calf over the arm of his chair and eyed his childhood friend, Charles, Viscount Weston, over the rim of his brandy glass. "So, Charles, what d'you think, a bloody American chit the next Countess of Straddock? By Gad it don't bear thinking of! She'll be a hoyden, goes without saying."
Charles's lip twitched but he managed not to laugh... just, "Oh come on, Benedict, you don't know that for a fact, she might turn out to be a real beauty! What is the gal's name?"
Benedict shook his head gloomily. "Rose Randolph, she sounds like a bloody stage actress. North will make damn sure that she has the countenance of a donkey, you can be sure of that! The man hates me, I spurned his god-daughter Margaret Beauchamp last year and now he has me by the nuts and he intends to squeeze." Viscount Charles gave in to his mirth and bellowed with laughter. "Mortimer, old man, I have to say... rather you than me, old fellow! When do you get to meet this colonial gal?"
Benedict swigged back his brandy and reached for the decanter, raising it high, he waggled the crystal container at Charles; the Viscount nodded and held his glass out ready for a re-fill. Once their glasses were filled, Benedict sat back and sighed. "This Saturday, it seems that the King and Queen are throwing a reception party for these Randolphs. Apparently Henry Randolph has enormous influence over the views of the colonists and there has been a lot of unrest out there recently. This marriage is to build a bridge to foster good relations with the Americas and I am to be the sacrificial lamb. Come on drink up, old chap. If this is really to be my last week of bachelorhood then I want to visit the ladybirds at Madam Angeline's every night this week!"
Chapter Three
The next day Rose awoke refreshed. She broke her fast alone and begun the day by exploring the house in Wilton Crescent. The butler, Wicks, told her that it was situated close to Buckingham House which had been recently purchased by the King for Queen Charlotte. It was known now as the Queen's House because she spent so much time there.
Number Ten Wilton Crescent was a luxurious and well-appointed house which came equipped with a butler, Wicks, a cook, Mary, and a house keeper, Mrs. Twill. Rose's bedroom was decorated with heavy pink toile wall hangings, matching curtains and bedding.
Eloise unpacked and hung everything in the large armoire in the dressing room adjacent to Rose's bedroom. An ornate dresser held her silk stockings, chemise, petticoats and nightgowns. The beauty of the room did nothing to soothe Rose's morose mood and even Eloise's attempts at cheerfulness made no difference.
"Goodness, Miss Rose, have you ever seen the like of such a place? You will have many a tale to take back home after seeing all this." Eloise smoothed the skirts of Rose's dresses and reached up high to hang them on the rack. "You're a mighty lucky girl, indeed you are."
Rose trailed her finger along the back of the sumptuous settee, a matching wingback chair sat nearby. She eyed the fancy porcelain dogs sat either side upon the mantel.
"Eloise, you don't need to try and cheer me. You and I both know that I have no wish to be here."
Eloise turned to her mistress with a frown of concern. "I know you don't want to be here, my dear, but there is no help for it and you might as well make the best of it. You must admit, miss, tis a lovely house."
"Yes, I suppose that it is." Rose heard her father's footsteps down in the hall. His fist was soon pounding upon her door, Eloise opened it and Henry hurried inside.
"I hope you appreciate this home, my dear. It's not every day one gets to stay in a mansion provided by the Prime Minster of Great Britain!"
"Yes, Father. Eloise and I were just saying how beautiful it is. I do sincerely appreciate it." Henry frowned at the rather formal and flat response but continued without comment.
"There is to be a reception at the Palace, this Saturday, daughter." Henry cleared his throat and harrumphed in a more demanding fashion than usual.
"It is to be hosted by the Prime Minister, Lord Frederick North himself and none other than the King and Queen of England will be attending! You are expected to be there, child. This will be a momentous occasion for us both to be sure." Rose's father crossed the room and stood behind a chair. He looked a little nervous and Rose grew curious. Henry flexed his fingers back and forth in anxious motion.
"I must inform you, daughter dear, that there is to be an announcement at this reception, one that you would do well to show proper gratitude toward. After all, it is an enormous honour for a young woman to be engaged to a titled English Lord." At this pronouncement, Eloise discreetly slipped from the room as Henry slipped into the chair. The door gently closed unnoticed by father or daughter, who now sat across the small table from one another.
A heavy feeling of doom crept over Rose. A hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach and she felt a lump grow in her throat. Instinctively, she knew the words her father had just spoken were the real reason he had forced her to come to England. No doubt he had wa
ited to tell her until now because he knew it would upset her.
"There is no way to soften this blow, daughter. The reception Saturday evening is to announce your engagement to Benedict Lord Mortimer. He is a very high ranking peer and a close counsel to the King. Your marriage to this man shall secure your future as well as the future of Ash Grove in these uncertain times. I hope you understand your importance to the success of this venture. I require your full cooperation."
The blood drained from Rose's face as she stared at her father in mute horror. She felt the room spin and saw black spots before her eyes. She tried to focus on her father who was now frowning at her; he was unable to disguise the look of guilt that crossed his face.
"The wedding will be held at Westminster… at Christmas tide." Rose's eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her father. She simply could not believe how duplicitous he had been, and that her own father had arranged all of this without a word to her.
"I am to go to the highest bidder, is that it, Father?" Rose asked quietly, staring Henry in the eye.
"Stuff and nonsense, my girl, highest bidder indeed… I simply wish to secure the best marriage possible for you."
"I doubt you would have sprung your trap upon me had Benedict Mortimer been a farmer's son, Father. Kindly leave my room; I want to be alone."
Henry rose from his spot, pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped the sweat collecting on his brow. "Now, Rose… I know that this is difficult, but…"
She looked away unable to stomach his presence a moment longer. "Just leave me be, Father," she said quietly.
Too ashamed to answer any further, Henry turned and left. Rose thought she would die from sorrow, betrayed by her own father! Engaged and married off without her consent! Left behind in England to rot for the rest of her life all because of her father's own selfish desire for position in society!
Rose knew that she would never, ever, forgive him, no not ever! She decided that she would never marry Lord whatever his name was. If her father thought the Colonies were giving England problems, he hadn't seen anything yet!
Rose locked the door of her room and refused to admit anyone, even Eloise. She refused to answer when the evening meal was brought and again when breakfast was delivered to her upon a tray. Her father pounded upon the door but stopped short of breaking it down, aware that it was a borrowed house from the Prime Minister after all.
"Rose, you silly, stubborn girl, I have no doubt you shall emerge from this room when you get hungry enough. Stay there and starve then for you'll not hear from me again!"
Eloise was sent to plead with her. "Miss Rose, I know this is a terrible shock for you, just terrible, but you must listen to reason. Your father has made an appointment with a dress maker today. Please, dear, come with me. You have nothing appropriate to wear at Court. The reception is tomorrow night. Your father will force you to go if he has to, please, just open the door, Rose."
Rose immediately imagined wearing a dress made out of flour sacks to the reception. Wouldn't that just put her father over the edge? None of this was Eloise's fault, however, and Rose decided to play along for the time being. She was going to formulate a plan that would make her father sorry he had ever birthed a daughter.
Rose slowly opened the door. "Thank goodness," Eloise exclaimed, "We must leave as soon as you've taken a bite to eat. The appointment is in an hour and who knows how long it will take us to get there. London is such a crowded place." Eloise set a tray of victuals down upon the table and began straightening up the room. Rose sat down and took a small bite of bread and butter.
Eloise continued to chatter nervously watching her charge eat. "I'm so very sorry, that events have unfolded as they have, best to stay busy and keep your mind off things."
"Yes," Rose replied. "I shall be ready in a moment, Eloise. I find that actually I am hungry and must eat first but I thank you… for everything." Eloise looked up from the pillow that she was fluffing and gave Rose a sympathetic smile.
"Very well then, miss, I shall meet you downstairs as soon as you're ready."
Rose gave her hair a few little pats and then made her way down the steps to where the carriage awaited her. She, Eloise and Pippin wound their way through the streets of London, finally pulling up before a discrete shop front and the driver helped them both down. Excited by the busy street, Pippin gave a sharp bark and set off like a streak of lightning. Eloise gave a warning shout but it was too late. Heedless of Rose, Pippin dashed against her. She nearly toppled over as she threw her hands in the air with a high pitched scream.
Before she knew what had happened, a broad chest and a pair of strong arms crushed her in a heavy embrace. Confused and certain that she was under attack, Rose pushed away as hard as she could. "Unhand me, sir!" Outraged, Rose struck out a small fist and Pippin, sensing her distress, immediately attacked her assailant. He dashed for the ankle of the villain and went to work with white teeth bared; Pippin's canines clamped down like a vice.
"You bloody vicious, little mongrel!"
The man dodged Rose's fist by ducking and tried to shake Pippin off his leg. Pippin's hold was loosened and the dog gave a startled yip as the man's shoe met the dog's ribs.
Rose stood directly in front of the bully who was now holding her by her arms, trying to right himself. She barely reached the man's shoulders. "How dare you attack my poor little dog? You, sir, are nothing but a-a brute!" Rose then slapped him as hard as her small gloved palm was able, right across his handsome English face.
His face indeed! He was so handsome that Rose's mouth dropped open and she stepped back to peruse his jet black hair and bright blue eyes. Despite the violent circumstance, the gentleman gave her a grin causing his periwinkle blue eyes to twinkle. Rose forgot where she was and stood entranced.
The man was accompanied by two friends who immediately broke the spell. "I say, old man, what's this?" they said teasingly.
Rose reached down and protectively picked Pippin up into her arms. Woeful, he licked her hand and made a sad little face, adding a soft whine for effect. "My little Chickadee," Rose crooned and then she noticed blood staining the gentlemen's ankle. Pippin was indeed a terrier terror.
"Ooo," Rose stammered, "oh dear, your poor ankle, I think I owe you an apology, sir."
The man looked down and gave a small shrug. "Tis only a scratch, madam, a mere trifle." He smiled at her briefly before the look on his face took on an instructional air. "You know, it is altogether improper to allow such untrained pets to run loose within the street, especially one as vicious as this."
The Englishman flashed his gleaming teeth and completed the look with deep dimples on either side of his perfectly formed mouth. "I shall forgive you this time, dear lady. You are obviously unaware of the proper decorum but that is to be expected, for did I not catch a hint of the Colonies within your speech?" The man was actually trying to cajole her. Rose had never been so insulted in her life.
Ooo! Rose stamped her foot. Handsome or not, he was rudest man she had ever met. How dare he patronize her! "You sir, have the manners of a-a pig. If I were a man, I would teach you a lesson with my fists!"
At first, the Englishman's brows drew together in a menacing scowl, but when he looked down at her very small fist now holding onto Pippin's leash, he suddenly threw his head back and laughed! He actually belly laughed at her. His companions joined in with the merriment. One leaned upon another's shoulder and wiped the tears from his eyes with a silk handkerchief.
Rose turned away in a huff; she could feel her face burning with shame. She motioned Eloise inside the modiste and then stomped into the dressmaker's shop herself with as much dignity as she could muster but then she spoiled it by slamming the door.
"Goodness gracious me!" A woman, whom Rose assumed was Madame Emile Emmerson, came forward, with her young assistant close behind. Through the window, Rose saw the group of gentlemen go on past the shop and down the street, still chuckling together.
"Pardon me, Madame but I
was accosted by some buffoon outside on the street and am feeling a little flustered."
"Je ne sais quoi…" the lady flew to the window and leaned against the glass peering out, "buffoon in zee street!" Her head fluttered back and forth causing her tightly curled hair to spring to and fro. Rose wanted to giggle at the sight for Madam looked like a clipped poodle.
"I see only zee Lord Mortimer and zee Viscount Weston. Ah yes, and Monsieur Thomas Wiggington. Surely you must 'ave been mistaken ma cherie? Zees fine gentlemen would have come to your aid should you have been accosted by zee buffoons."
Rose narrowed her eyes, Lord Mortimer! She placed Pippin down and raced to the window beside Madame Emmerson. "Which one is Mortimer, oh do point him out!" she exclaimed.
"Ah, cherie, ee is zee 'andsome one in zee middle. Zee one with zee bright eyes of blue."
"Oh dear…" Rose squealed, "oh no!" Rose placed a hand to her forehead. Why couldn't he have been ugly and fat to boot?
Eloise stood shaking her head. "Well, this looks to me like you've met your… " Rose quickly interrupted her.
"Oh excuse us, Madame Emmerson, I am Rose Randolph and this is my maid Eloise and I beg your pardon for causing confusion." Rose raised her eyes to Eloise with a silent plea; Eloise remained quiet, keeping her mistress's counsel.
"Ah, oui, oui, no 'arm is done ma chérie."
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Madam. I am very glad to be in your lovely establishment, which has come highly recommended to me. My companion, Pippin, has accompanied me as you see. I hope that is all right with you?" Madame Emmerson knelt and Pippin wagged his stubby tail and jumped in her arms.
"Ah! mignon, chérie, le petit chien! We shall be very glad to have Monsieur Pippin within our modest establishment."
Rose took in a shaky breath, now what was she going to do? The maze of events became more complicated by the minute. She had no idea how she was going to extricate herself. The image of Benedict Lord Mortimer was burned into her heart and brain. She shook her head to remove it and began to gaze about the modiste with interest.
His Colonial Rose Page 3