* * * *
Richard sorely missed Grace that evening at dinner. Her excuse was that she was tired and wished to go to sleep early. Mrs Emberton confirmed the accuracy of the statement, yet he felt her absence greatly. He shook his head as he moved the food on his plate around with his fork absentmindedly. What was happening to him? Was he falling in love with his bride-to-be?
He took a sip from his wineglass and contemplated that thought. Did he love her? Was he beginning to? How would he know if he truly did, or did not, love her? Did he even know what love felt like?
He could not settle to anything for the remainder of the evening. He tried to read a book, but its pages contained nothing of interest to him at all. He suggested a round of cards with the Colemans, but he lost—and he was a sore loser. He persuaded Martha Coleman to play a little on the piano, but she was not an accomplished player and she quickly bored him.
“What on earth is wrong with you this evening, Richard?” Edward whispered in his ear.
“I do not know.”
“It’s as though you have been dancing on hot coals all evening,” Edward smirked.
“I know, and I cannot stop it. Damn, I wish I knew what was wrong with me.” Richard breathed heavily and rubbed his temples with his left hand.
Edward went to the whisky decanter, unstopped it, and motioned to his brother to join him. He poured some of the warm amber liquid into cut-crystal glasses and handed one to Richard, swirling his own. “I would have said it was quite plain and simple what ails you, brother,” Edward remarked wryly.
Richard downed the contents of his glass in one swig. “Then, pray, do enlighten me, Edward,” he hissed.
Amusement was written across Edward’s face. “Do you not know?”
Richard remained nonplussed.
“Are you honestly trying to tell me that you cannot tell nor can you fathom what ails you?”
“Edward, I am in no mood for fun and games. Tell me, or I shall leave the room this instant.”
“Richard, it is quite plain, and you are behaving as a dullard.”
Richard could not help but laugh at this old insult.
“Richard Charles Emberton, you, my dear brother, are in love.” Edward poked Richard in the chest with his forefinger. “You are pining for Grace. You were mourning her absence this evening. And if you do not pick up your mood, it will be evident to all.” He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Unless, of course, you do not mind everyone thinking that you are soft-hearted and have fallen head over heels for your bride.”
“I am not in love. Well, not yet anyway.”
Richard looked down at his empty glass and contemplated his brother’s words. He glanced back at his brother helplessly. “Am I?”
“I cannot even believe my ears, Richard. Are you going to stand there and tell me that you do not know that you have most fortuitously fallen in love with the lovely young lady you have the great luck to be marrying the day after tomorrow?”
“I honestly had no idea.” Richard stood dumbstruck with his mouth wide open.
Edward playfully slapped him on the arm. “Then, for the first time in my life, I can actually mean it when I call you a complete and utter dullard, Richard.”
“Good Lord, I think I must be!” Richard said in wonderment.
Richard mockingly shook his fist at his brother. “But if you call me a dullard again, Edward, I will have to beat you like I did the other night.”
Edward almost choked on his Scotch. “I think I remember it was you that came off with the black eye.” He said, holding the whisky glass up and pointing at Richard’s still bruised eye with his index finger.
“Yes, but you were the one who very tragically nearly drowned.” Richard’s regret was palpable.
“Only because you tried to drown me!” Edward slapped Richard playfully on the arm again, discounting the event. “You never did fight fair.”
“I never had to. I’ve always been your older brother. I could always use my strength and size against you.”
“Some people would call that cheating, Richard.”
“Perhaps we should call the other night even?” Richard grinned.
“Even?” Edward nodded and turned around to go back and sit with their mother. “If you weren’t getting married the day after tomorrow I might have to take you outside and teach you another lesson.”
Richard laughed. “As if you could win,” he whispered as he poured himself another glass of scotch.
The remainder of the evening, Richard sat apart from their guests. He did not spare a single thought as to why Mr Hayward was not there, neither did he contemplate Miss Coleman’s wounded affections nor did he pay any more attention to his mother, his brother, or Doctor Coleman. His mind was upstairs. He thought only of Grace. Was he in love with her? Was Edward right? The very thought of being in love with her lifted his heart.
A shadow passed across his mind. What if Grace never fell in love with him in return? What if the most she ever felt for him was polite affection and friendship? His heart felt the sharp jolt of pain at the thought. No, I will do everything I can to make Grace fall in love with me. I will be the man she needs me to be. I will be the man she wants me to be. I will be the man she has always dreamt of.
Richard then wondered, was it possible to make someone love you? Could you be the most affable, amiable, personable, charismatic, kind, and generous person in the entire known world and still have the object of your desire not love you at all? Did such tragedies happen?
Despite not being a deeply religious man, Richard found himself praying silently as he sat in the corner of the drawing room.
Dear God, help me to make Grace happy. I cannot do it without you. I cannot explain it, I do not know why, but I want her to be happy more than anything in the world right now. I want to be the man she needs me to be, and only you can help me. Please, God. Amen.
Richard was reminded of the scripture, Charity suffereth long, and is kind. “Love is patient. Love is kind,” he muttered and felt at peace.
He went to bed that night with a much lighter heart, still thinking of his own dear, beloved Grace.
* * * *
Grace awoke not long after sunrise, washed in the cold water left behind from the night before, slipped back under the top coverlet on the bed, and settled down to read for a few hours. She felt her life was going at the speed of a runaway horse, and she was powerless to slow it down, much less to stop it.
She thought back to when her father first told her they had received an invitation to visit Emberton Hall. She had not wanted to visit and was filled with a sense of foreboding. But her father was adamant. He knew of the Emberton’s business by reputation, of course, and was eager to find out the reason for the invitation.
The following days turned Grace’s life upside down. When she left Longwood Academy, she felt she had the world at her feet. She had a myriad of dreams, hopes, and desires. Her ambition for the plantation was to revolutionise it, to show the world that slaves can be treated in a far better way than they currently were.
All that was over now. She would never be able to help them from so far away as England.
She picked up the book and forced herself to read, shutting out the melancholic thoughts that plagued her and brought her to the brink of tears.
It was sometime later, when Grace had escaped her woes into the very fabric of the story she read, that there was a tentative tap at her bedroom door. She was warm, comfortable, and reluctant to break the spell the book wove. Nonetheless, she slipped out from underneath the coverlet and gently tiptoed to the door.
The tapping repeated, this time a little harder. “Grace, are you awake?”
It was her father. Eager to discover where he had disappeared to the day before, Grace quickly opened the door and allowed him to enter.
“Oh! You are up already,” he looked surprised.
“Yes, I have been up for some time, reading.” She pointed to the messed coverlet atop the bed. �
�Come in, Father, and sit down.” She indicated the chaise, and her father sat, looking rather nervous.
Grace sat down on the floor beside him and asked, “Where were you yesterday? You were sorely missed.”
“I had business to attend to, my dear.”
“Oh! Business? I was told you went to get a wedding gift,” she said teasingly.
Mr Hayward smiled and shook his head from side to side. “Well, yes and no. Yes, it was business, and, yes, it was for a wedding gift also.”
“Now I am confused, Papa.”
“Well, I have been wondering what I can give you as a gift on the occasion of your wedding. I understand very well that her wedding day is an extremely important day in the life of a young lady, the life of my only daughter. I also know how much you desired to return with me to India. That is now impossible. Your duty will be to your husband and to your husband only, from now on.”
These were words that Grace did not wish to hear and which did nothing for her state of melancholia.
“I wanted to bestow upon you something with a value that surpassed money, something that would remind you of India and, hopefully, of me.”
Eager anticipation began to rise in the pit of Grace’s stomach.
“And so I said to myself, if Grace cannot come to India, then India must come to Grace!”
“What is it?” Grace clapped her hands in anticipation. “What is it you are giving me, Papa?”
“Yesterday,” he began with elation, “I journeyed to London so I could have a letter sent to India. I was fortunate enough to catch the outgoing ship to Kerala!” He mused. “I have sent for Mina, the youngest daughter of our housekeeper, Charita. I am giving you Mina as a wedding present.” He grinned triumphantly.
Grace stared in disbelief at her father. Did he actually say he was giving a human being to her as a present? She wondered if he did not know her at all. She was appalled, but knew she had to respond and quickly before he realised she was not in the least bit happy about receiving a person as a gift. “Papa! I hardly know what to say!”
Mr Hayward raised his hands and waved them at her. “I know. I know you are overwhelmed! I knew you would be exceedingly happy. I spent a long time, my dear, wondering what you would like the most as a wedding gift. I can tell you, it was no easy feat. My mind finally settled on the idea of sending for Mina. She is perfect. She is young enough to be trained as your own personal lady’s maid. What you think of that, Grace dear?”
Grace’s eyes were as large as saucers. “Oh, imagine that! She can be trained as my lady’s maid.”
“Indeed. And then you will have someone from India with you always. It is a perfect gift, is it not?”
“It.” He actually referred to Mina as “it.”
Grace laughed weakly and tried to maintain the false smile she planted on her face. “I cannot thank you enough, Papa. Really, I cannot,” she lied. She rose from the floor and sat beside him and held his hand. “It is a very kind gesture.” With great composure, she leant over and kissed him tenderly upon the cheek. “I cannot wait to tell Richard. He will be very pleased,” she lied again.
“I imagine he will be.” Mr Hayward replied cheerily. “I envisage he will have all manner of questions for her about life on the plantation, and she will be able to furnish him with a better understanding of the place, I fancy.”
“Papa, I believe you are right,” she said with all sincerity. “I believe she does know better than any of us what life is like on the plantation.”
Chapter Twelve
Grace could not keep calm during breakfast that morning. She was agitated, irritated, and annoyed at the same time. She knew in her heart what she had to do. She had to go and speak to Richard and Edward immediately and seek their advice. Grace hated the idea of being given her own slave, and yet she had not the faintest idea of what to do about it. To refuse such a gift from her own father would be to insult him, and to do so gravely; to accept it would be to condone it.
She rushed through the meal, of which she ate very little. She felt slightly nauseated and drank her cup of chocolate so quickly that she scalded the tip of her tongue.
Richard leant closer towards her and whispered, “Are you quite all right, Grace?”
“No, I am not. I have great need to speak with you and Edward.” She shot Richard a sideways glance and saw him furrowed his brow questioningly.
“When you have finished your meal,” he said calmly, “slowly and as steadily as you can, so as to not draw attention to yourself, make your way to the library. Edward and I will meet you there soon thereafter.”
Grace nodded her understanding and continued to drink her chocolate. She decided it would be best that she was not the first to leave the table that morning. It took all her strength of will to remain seated, to force herself to take another slice of toasted bread, to calmly wait until someone else left the room first. Thankfully, Edwina had to attend to estate business and speak with the household staff that morning. So Grace, as serenely as she could, rose, excused herself, and followed her mother-in-law-to-be out of the room a minute or so afterwards.
Once out of the room, Grace darted across the hall and down towards the library. She burst in through the doors and paced up and down the room while she waited for Richard and Edward to appear.
It seemed to her that she waited an eternity for the Emberton brothers to come to her rescue. Her mind was in complete and utter turmoil. Her heart raced from the emotion, and her stomach turned over and over, making her wish she had not eaten the second piece of toasted bread.
Richard entered the room ahead of his brother Edward and made directly for Grace. He reached out and took hold of both her hands in his. “Now, what is it that has you so greatly agitated?”
Grace hardly knew where to begin and so she blurted it all out. “My father has sent to India for a slave!” At the blank expressions upon their faces she clarified, “To give to me as a wedding gift!”
Edward whistled, “What a gift!” He looked at Richard who mirrored his expression of disbelief. “It is evident your father has been away from England for too long. He does not understand the climate here.”
Grace looked confused. “What has the weather to do with this?”
He smiled kindly at her. “I do not speak of the weather, but of the political climate.”
“I thought you said, Edward, that it was against the law now to buy and sell slaves,” Richard exclaimed rubbing his side-whiskers.
“Yes, it is. I’m sure I read that in the newspapers,” Grace added as she watched Richard, realising that she liked the way he rubbed at the sides of his face when he was thinking.
Edward nodded. “Yes, it is indeed illegal to buy and sell slaves. We not talking about buying or selling a slave, are we? We are talking about a slave being given as a gift to someone else, a loophole in the law if ever I saw one.” He pulled a face, shook his head, turned towards the fireplace, and leant against it. “This will take some thinking about.”
Richard drew Grace aside, leaving his brother to think, and sat her in the chair behind his desk. He perched himself next her on the edge of the desk. “Now, tell me what your father said and all about this slave he is sending you.”
“He came to my room this morning and told me that he went to London, yesterday, to send a letter to India—”
“Then it is too late to prevent the message being sent,” Richard interjected.
“—for Mina to be sent at once. As a gift!”
“It takes approximately three months to sail from India to England, and that is if the going is fair. We must pray the going is fair. Poor girl!” Richard looked sharply at Grace. “Mina is a girl, isn’t she?”
Grace giggled. She understood how Richard would not necessarily be familiar with Indian names. “Yes, Mina is a girl. She is the youngest child of our housekeeper, Charita. She is approximately fifteen years old. She may be older; I do not know. I have been away for three years, after all.”
Ric
hard nodded. “Yes. We must do all to ensure she is comfortable here. It would not do to send her back to India. The voyage is long and your father would take it as an insult, not to mention it would be unfair and unkind to Mina.”
“Papa said she would be fitting in the role of a lady’s maid for me.”
Grace watched as Richard thought about that notion for a moment and then replied, “Did you know the girl when you were living in India?”
“Yes. Occasionally, without my father’s knowledge, I played with the other children, but only when they were not working.”
“Then it may be of some comfort to the girl to be near you.”
Grace could see his point of view and agreed with him.
“My mother may not agree, and neither may her lady’s maid, but I think this is the best course of action. We must be kind to her.”
Grace smiled from ear to ear. “You have no idea what a relief it is to me to know that you are of the same mind as I am.”
“If I own the truth, Grace, I am undecided about the abolition of slavery. My entire business, my fortune, my future depends upon it. That being said, it is distasteful to me to think of another person as property.”
“Then how do you manage to continue your business as you do, knowing it is built upon the backs of slaves, slaves who are, after all, people?” she asked.
“That is a good question,” he replied, looking abashed. “I, like my father before me, have developed an uncanny knack of ignoring the issue. I think that is what most people do under the same circumstances.”
“It can be ignored no longer.” Edward crossed the room to join them. “It is an enormous polemic. The city of London is rife with talk about the abolition of slavery. William Wilberforce’s campaign gains momentum with every passing month. There was even a book written by an ex-slave that was distributed widely in London.” At the piqued interest on Grace’s face, he added, “I would not recommend it. It makes for some gruesome reading.”
The Spice Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 1) Page 10