The Birthright

by T. Davis Bunn

  Nicole did her best to keep her laughter at bay, her voice trembling slightly from the effort. “You are making fun of me, sir.”

  “Not at all. Not in the slightest. I am speaking the poetry of lyrical invitation. Make me the happiest man on earth by accepting my humble offer.”

  She dropped her hand and gazed openmouthed at him. “You are asking me to marry you?”

  “Indeed so. And nothing could make me happier.” Then the gold snuffbox was flipped open yet again, and the powder applied to both nostrils. The sneeze that followed nearly lifted Percy off his seat. “Your pardon.”

  Nicole found it impossible to contain herself any longer. She rocked back in her seat, a giggle finally escaping.

  “I take it my suit has been rejected?”

  She clutched her side with one hand, covered her face with the other, and nodded.

  “Alas, alas. Though my heart is torn asunder in my chest, I shall endeavor to survive and continue along this mortal coil.” Another pinch of snuff and a sneeze. Percy whipped an unusually big handkerchief from his rear pocket and wiped his eyes. “Of course, I shall have the distinct pleasure of naming myself as the first suitor to have been refused. There will be a few meager crumbs of comfort in that, I suppose.”

  The prospect was enough to stifle her laughter. “You think there shall be many, sir?”

  He examined her with gray eyes that seemed too bright and clear for his frame. “Surely you jest, Miss Nicole. May I call you that?”

  She realized then what he was about. The strange words and the even stranger proposal had been intended to breach the impossible distance between them. Percy only wanted to make her laugh. More than that, he wanted to make her feel comfortable with him. Nicole settled back in her seat, liking him already. “Please do,” she replied.

  “Of course, Charles has told me a bit of your background, but seeing you seated here, showing such beauty and poise, it now escapes me.” There was none of the bumbling jester now. “A lady of your evident charm, soon to become one of the wealthiest heiresses in the land. I should think you will soon find yourself under siege.”

  “What horror,” she murmured.

  “Yes, I can well imagine it might seem so from your perspective. That is, unless you prepare yourself.”

  “And how, pray tell, might I do that?”

  His eyes grew keen again. “Arm yourself with friends. Trust your defense to people who have your best interests in mind. Allow them to advise and to buffer you.”

  Nicole hesitated. “I am not sure what you mean.”

  “Such a lady as you, full of dance and spirit as you are, must find this whole matter of polite English society rather dusty and dull.”

  She then wondered if she could truly trust the man. Yet Charles held Percy in high esteem, and she had come to trust her uncle implicitly. Nicole also felt the overwhelming need to confide in someone, so she softly said, “These weeks since my arrival, I have felt very hemmed in.”

  “You poor thing. Of course you do. Coming from a place where you had both clan and work to surround you, it must be quite stifling.”

  “Work,” she repeated. “I had no idea how much that word meant to me. I feel so useless here.”

  “You are to be your uncle’s heir,” Percy reminded her.

  “Yes, but what am I to do?”

  “There’s much to be done, as you will see for yourself. Much good to be done. Great wealth will be placed in your care. And with wealth comes power. I know you shall wield both well.” He seemed ready to launch into a vision of what the future might hold for her, then checked himself. “But that does not help you now, does it?”

  “No,” she said morosely. “I feel confined by things I don’t understand. I must abide by rules that make it difficult to be who I am. I cannot cook or care for my home. I must give orders to others, then stand by and watch as though I were without hands and legs of my own.” Nicole felt her throat tighten. “And I am told I should never leave the house without an escort!”

  “London is not your home village, Miss Nicole, where all are either friends or relatives or both.”

  “I don’t care for the reason! I only know that I am trapped, and it matters not that the cage is lined with gold and fine paintings.”

  “Of course you don’t.” He reached over to pat her hand. “And I am your answer.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your morning glory has arrived.” A brilliant smile spread across his chubby features. “Charles has begged me to help find you a suitable escort. My response was simple. I have all but retired from the active life, and my young associates are far more skilled than I could ever hope to be. It’s only your dear uncle who insists upon my personally handling his affairs. My church activities and my work for Charles hardly require two days a week. I have been widowed for ten years. Therefore, I am here to propose that I become your escort.”

  “I understand now,” Nicole said, “what Uncle Charles sees in you, sir.”

  “Call me Percy, I beg you.” He almost toppled from the chair as he reached and patted her hand again. “For those kind words I shall consider myself ever in your debt.”

  Then Charles reentered the room. Seeing the two of them seated there, he smiled, clapped his hands, and said, “Ah. You’re becoming friends. What joy. Come, there’s just time enough for a walk about the garden before we dine.”

  Chapter 18

  Nicole stepped hesitantly from the carriage. “You’re certain this is the correct address?”

  “Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Yes, ma’am.” Jim pointed ahead with the hand that held the whip. “Number thirty-nine is just up there.”

  Looking out through the open door, Nicole asked, “What if she does not want to see me?”

  “That is the beauty of polite society.” Percy rested his cane between his knees and smiled encouragingly. “You shall never be forced to suffer the indignity of rejection. Simply leave your card with the maidservant who answers the door.”

  “I don’t see—”

  “The lady of the house will then have the opportunity to return the favor if she wishes. Then you can meet and have tea or perhaps stroll through Mayfair together. Otherwise she writes you a nice little note, listing a motley collection of excuses. I have acquaintances who have politely avoided seeing one another for a dozen years and more.”

  There was nothing left for her to do but walk away from the carriage’s safety. This area of London was unknown to her, but Percy had assured her that it was most respectable. The houses were built snugly against one another, all facing across the lane toward a tree-shaded field that stretched out in gray silence. The day was cool and clad in a mist too fine to be called rain. The weather was like much of England as far as Nicole was concerned—irritatingly genteel.

  She had discovered two distinct worlds existing within England. One was a universe of bejeweled gowns and balls, music recitals, and Sabbath services at Westminster Abbey. The other consisted of a flagrant poverty, which left her sickened and horrified. Of course, it was possible to avoid the worst sections of town by simply drawing the carriage curtains. And the way Nicole had heard others speak at the receptions and banquets and tea dances, this second world might as well not have existed at all. But she couldn’t blind herself and had no desire to do so. A glimpse down an alley was enough to fill her dreams with images of people living in smoke and squalor and starving children wearing rags. It was then that she felt the most trapped and frightened.

  Nicole climbed the front stairs and pulled the brass handle beside the door. Somewhere inside the house, she heard a bell tinkle. Reaching inside the small beaded purse that hung from her wrist, she took out her card. The fact that she had such cards at all still bewildered her. Yet it was one of the first things she had done with her uncle after arriving in London. They went straight to Kedrick’s of Bond Street and ordered stationery and cards of bonded vellum, the Harrow crest stamped in silver. She fingered the script beneath the crest,
which said in heavily engraved lettering, Miss Nicole Harrow. No address, no information of any kind. Charles had assured her that nothing further was required.

  The door opened, and a young woman in starched apron and cap stood before her. She ran an eye over Nicole’s day dress and little hat, then gave a quick curtsy. “Good morning, ma’am.”

  Nicole was about to drop into a curtsy of her own but then halted. Instead, she repeated the words that Percy had instructed her to say. “Please, if you would be so kind as to inform Mrs. Madden that Miss Nicole Harrow wishes to call upon her and—” She stopped midsentence, because the woman was no longer paying any attention but was gaping at something behind Nicole. Nicole turned around and saw nothing but her carriage and the footman standing by the open door. Percy remained seated inside, fiddling with the head of his cane. “Is something wrong?” Nicole asked.

  “Oh, no, m’lady…” Then the maid dropped into another curtsy, deeper this time. “Excuse me, please.”

  But Nicole’s fragile poise was shaken. “If you would just give Mrs. Madden this card.” She shoved her card into the maid’s hand and started back down the stairs.

  Before she had reached the carriage, a voice behind her cried out, “Nicole!”

  She spun around to see the captain’s wife lifting her skirts and racing down the stairs. “Oh, my goodness, I can hardly believe my eyes!” She grasped both of Nicole’s hands. “What a delight it is to see you, my dear.”

  Nicole felt such relief at the greeting, she said, “When you did not contact me, I thought it was because you did not want to see me again.”

  “Oh, my dear sweet young thing, nothing could be further from the truth. Now you must come inside and have a cup of tea,” Emily demanded as she gave Nicole’s hands a tug.

  Nicole extracted one of her hands and then motioned toward the open carriage door. “May I introduce Lord Percy, my uncle’s solicitor and friend.”

  “A grand good morning to you, my lady.”

  “You must come in as well, your lordship.”

  “I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

  “Nonsense, I wouldn’t think of such a thing. Climb down this very instant!” Emily cast an astonished glance around the carriage, murmuring to herself, “My neighbors will be positively agog.” Then she pulled Nicole back up the stairs and into the house. Percy clambered down from the carriage and followed obediently behind.

  Soon they were settled in plush chairs by the front bay window, overlooking the lane and the park. The polished oak flooring reflected the morning’s soft light and the fire’s glow. The walls were adorned with paintings of harbors and majestic seagoing vessels. Sitting on the corner table was a large globe. And two cabinets were stacked high with charts and scrolled documents carrying royal blue ribbons.

  While the maid served them tea, Emily explained, “Once we arrived and settled in, it occurred to me that you might not wish to have me call.”

  “But why?”

  “Because life ashore is different.” Both her tone and look seemed good-hearted. “It might appear inappropriate for a shipowner’s wife to call upon the heiress of an earl.” Emily reached over and lightly patted Nicole’s knee. “But never mind all that. You are here, and now you must tell me how you’ve been.”

  “I honestly don’t know.” The chance to open up to another woman left the words feeling caught in her throat. “I am not unhappy. Yet I cannot help my feeling trapped…and so very confused.”

  “And lost from time to time, I would imagine.”

  “Utterly.” The relief at being understood left her weak. “I have been here two months now, and still I don’t understand what is expected of me.”

  “My dear, that’s not a surprise. England is so—”

  “Different. I know. Everyone tells me I must give it time. But how much time? And why must I feel so closed in? There’s much I would like to do, so many people are in need. But all I hear is, ‘Give it time.’”

  Emily did not offer such a platitude. Instead, she sipped her tea and studied Nicole over the rim of her cup. “And have you met many suitors?”

  “Of all ages, shapes, and sizes.”

  When Percy coughed discreetly, Emily turned to him and said, “You must forgive us, m’lord, for ignoring you so.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Madden. It is my honor to call Miss Nicole a friend, and she has so longed for the chance to confide in another woman.”

  “Of course she has.” Emily shifted her attention back to Nicole and quietly urged, “You were saying that there have been many interested men, my dear.”

  The floodgates opened, and Nicole blurted out a jumble of disjointed thoughts. She told of parties with sweeping lines of debutantes and eligible bachelors, of suitors who fawned about her, of grandes dames who seemed not to see her at all. She spoke of meeting people who boasted connections to the Harrow family that went back generations, of people who appeared to know more about who she now was than she did herself. At first, Nicole had been impressed by the wealth and others’ attitude toward her as Charles’s niece. But as London society swept her up and carried her forward on a wave of chiffon and taffeta and polite empty chatter, she found most potential suitors to be boring, bald, and pompous.

  Emily listened with a steady watchful silence, her eyes as calm as her demeanor. When Nicole finally quieted, she asked, “And what does your uncle think of all this?”

  “He seems pleased,” Nicole said with a trace of doubt in her voice.

  Lord Percy cleared his throat and broke in, “If I may say, Mrs. Madden, Lord Charles is delighted. He has thrown this poor young lady in at the deep end of the sea, and she has not only managed to survive, but to do herself and her uncle quite proud.”

  “Uncle Charles wishes I would spend more money,” Nicole said rather glumly.

  “That is because Miss Nicole has but two gowns and six dresses,” Percy explained.

  “That won’t do,” Emily agreed.

  “Why, with the prices the seamstresses are asking,” Nicole protested, “I could feed my village in Louisiana for a year!”

  “But you’re not in Louisiana,” Emily said. “My dear, would you accept a bit of advice?”

  “Of course.” Nicole leaned forward in her seat. “I would be happy to receive it.”

  “Perhaps you should wait till you have heard what I have to say before you speak of being happy.” Emily set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap. “In fact, I would suggest to you that this is not concerning your happiness at all.” She paused to give Nicole an opportunity to object. When Nicole did not utter a word, Emily straightened in her chair and then said with calm intensity, “I would suggest to you that the issue at hand is not one of happiness, but rather of duty. The idea that life must orient itself to make you happy is the attitude of the young and privileged. But anyone with open eyes can see that life is full of difficulty and tough decisions.”

  “What you say,” Nicole said slowly, “makes perfect sense.”

  “With every gift, there comes an equal responsibility,” Emily went on. “Your uncle has offered you a great gift, that of wealth and position. Yet with this gift comes the duty to use these wisely.”

  “But how?” Nicole asked. “This life leaves me so confined! My days are filled with frivolous things that help no one.”

  “You must learn to walk before you can fly,” Emily replied. “Direct your efforts toward learning the lessons at hand. Slowly you will find ways to use your new gift in helping others.”

  Percy cleared his throat again. “Your pardon, Mrs. Madden, but I promised to deliver Miss Nicole to her uncle in a half hour’s time.”

  Nicole stood and asked, “Might I please come again?”

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” Emily offered her hand. “My dear Nicole, these few minutes have revealed two remarkable features about you. First, despite what you may think, you’re making great strides toward settling in England with dignity. And second, you remai
n genuinely unconcerned with your own beauty and wealth. You have no idea how rare that is, my dear. I am certain your uncle is most delighted with you.”

  “I wish I could be so certain,” Nicole said.

  Emily smiled. “You will do him proud. You will accept the duties of your new station and, in time, will find fulfillment. On board ship, you spoke with my husband about your faith in God. I suggest you remember that God does not promise us a path strewn with flowers in their full bloom. He simply says He will be with us always, through everything that life brings.”

  “Is my hair all right like this?”

  “You look an absolute stunner, if you don’t mind my saying, Miss Nicole.” Maisy took a step back. “Turn around now, dear, and let me see you.” The new gown was striped taffeta silk of emerald green, with a series of silk flowers cascading down the back. “Now, you be sure and gather up that train when you’re sitting, else them flowers will look all mashed flat.”

  “Thank you for helping me, Maisy.”

  “Oh, it’s a pleasure. I was only half-sorry to hear that the maid had come down with the grippe. I do so love this! It’s like watching a lovely little doll take shape.”

  And that’s just how I feel, Nicole thought as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Like a porcelain doll made up for others to stare at. “But what about my hair?”

  “Don’t you be worrying about that. Them little crowns are all the rage, I hear.”

  It was not a crown at all but an arrangement of tall green stalks set in an Oriental design, which shook with the slightest motion.

  Nicole stood up straight, gathered up her bustle in her right hand, and practiced her curtsy. The evening’s event at the Portuguese embassy would be the first truly formal outing of her life. Charles had done his best to introduce her gradually to the pomp and ceremony of London society, taking her only to places where friends and allies would shelter her and forgive her mistakes. But tonight was different. The London season was drawing to a close, and the Portuguese ambassador’s party was the last opportunity for a formal appearance. She knew how important this was to her uncle and so wanted to do everything just right.