“I wish to escort you down the stairs.” He drew near to my side and offered his arm for the taking. “Don’t argue with me, Miss Gleadhell. When I give an order, I expect you to do what I say.”
After releasing an exasperated sigh, I obliged his request and lightly touched his arm. “I don’t see why I need escorting. You do know that I’m quite capable of descending a staircase without your assistance.” When I glanced up at him, my heartbeat quickened. I found my response to his nearness disconcerting.
“Perhaps, but I wish to accompany you into the den of wolves to prove a point,” he said, keeping a somber face.
“And what point might that be?” Nevertheless, I worried that he plotted to get me in trouble with his mother.
“Remember that whatever happens tonight,” he said in a low voice, “I will protect you. If you feel that you are in harm’s way, catch my attention and nod. In a moment’s notice, I shall be at your side.”
Before I could respond to his strange offer of protection, we entered the drawing room of the estate. Guests had already arrived, and Lady Catherine caught sight of us entering the room together. As soon as her eyes rested upon me, she shot a disapproving glare. I dropped the baron’s arm quickly and put distance between us by approaching her ladyship. He wasted no time abandoning me and walked away.
“Were you lost, Miss Gleadhell? Is that why you needed my son’s arm to show you the way?” she asked. Her brow over her right eye rose, and her sardonic voice made its point.
“Not at all,” I replied, trying not to mention the baron’s name or his reasoning. The air of disapproval from her ladyship was palpable, and my knees knocked from nervous jitters. “He insisted, Lady Catherine, that he escort me. I meant no—”
“We will speak of your behavior later,” she interrupted, raising her hand to halt my words. Her lips pursed together in a straight line showing her discontent. “Come and let me introduce you to a few of our guests.”
I spotted the baron on the far side of the room, standing next to a beautiful woman who paid particular attention to him. Naturally, I assumed her to be Lady Buford. He appeared at ease and delighted to be in her company.
The sitting room had been set up with three rows of chairs in front of a grand piano. A violinist, pianist, and cellist readied themselves for the performance. Lady Catherine invited a celebrated soprano by the name of Julianne Sauvageau. She once performed on stage in Paris, but now entertained for personal functions amongst the wealthy. Her ladyship corresponded with the entertainers for some time regarding the selection of music but did not ask for my opinion on the matter.
My mind was elsewhere as Lady Catherine introduced me from guest to guest merely as Miss Gleadhell. She did not mention my station as her companion. Regardless of the peculiar introductions, I attempted to converse and be as pleasant as possible in spite of lingering nerves.
Her ladyship directed me toward two men standing by themselves with drink in hand. “Lord Crawford, I would like to introduce you to my new companion, Miss Gleadhell.”
Astounded that she finally revealed my status, I looked at an elderly gentleman who fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon my body. Are all men lechers? I thought to myself. Next to him stood a younger gentleman who appeared a few years older than me.
“Charmed,” Lord Crawford replied. “May I introduce to you my son, Alexander?”
He briskly stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and kissed it. “Another beautiful companion,” he said. “I do hope that you remain longer than the others.”
“As do I.” Their interest in me appeared unnatural, as they both continued to scrutinize me from head to toe. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” I nervously added.
“Now, now, gentlemen. The young lady belongs to me until I say otherwise,” Lady Beaumont interjected. She chuckled and the two gentlemen smiled. “Put your focus upon other eligible young women that are milling about the room. There are plenty to catch your fancy.”
Thankfully, her ladyship noted the situation and intervened.
“I shall do as you say,” Lord Crawford replied with a smirk. “But do tell, Lady Catherine, when shall we enjoy our next game together?”
I glanced at her ladyship wondering what his comment meant. Alexander caught my eye, leaned in toward my ear, and whispered.
“She loves to play Piquet with my father,” he amusingly replied.
“Alexander, stop telling stories about me,” Lady Catherine said, hitting his arm with her fan. “Come along, Miss Gleadhell, you have other guests to meet.” She grabbed my hand and led me away.
As we rounded the room and drew closer to the baron, he still conversed lightheartedly with the female guest. After our arrival in their presence, Lady Catherine became extremely animated in word and action.
“Is my son being a gentleman, Lady Buford?” Lady Catherine smiled displaying her obvious approval.
“I’ve never found your son to be ungentlemanly, frankly.”
Her eyes drifted over to me. Now that we stood a mere few feet away, I was dumbfounded by her poise and beauty, which I found utterly intimidating. Her appearance, however, was tainted with an arrogant air of pompous importance. The baron flattered her with attentive and adoring gazes, while Lady Catherine smiled approvingly. I struggled with an overwhelming urge to slink away unnoticed amidst the snobbery.
“Is this your new companion, Lady Beaumont?” She examined me, showing a slight disdain about my rather modest and inexpensive garment.
“Oh dear,” her ladyship responded. “Forgive me for my lack of civility. Lady Buford, may I introduce you to Miss Gleadhell.”
“Let me see, now, this makes you what—the third or fourth in a long line of ladies assigned to her ladyship?”
Irritated by her demeaning attitude, I clasped my jaw tightly and said nothing in return.
“Dudley, which is it?” Lady Buford asked, reaching over and resting her hand on his arm as if she were claiming her territorial rights.
“I have no idea,” he said, glancing at me. “I lost count.”
Lost count? He knew very well how many had come before my arrival. Why did he play this game of untruth?
“So have I,” Lady Catherine interjected. “However, Miss Gleadhell, for the most part, has surpassed the others in talent and social graces. I will give her that much credit.”
“Charming,” Lady Buford said, drawling out her words in an insulting tone.
Irked, I held my sarcasm that I wished to fling back. Instead, I acknowledged with grace the introduction. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Lady Buford immediately turned her eyes away and focused upon the baron. A prick of jealousy rose in my heart, which I discovered even more distressing than the condescending heiress a few feet away.
“Dearest, why don’t we take a seat? It appears the musicians are about ready to begin.” Lady Buford wrapped her arm around the baron and led him away.
“See, what did I tell you?” Lady Catherine spoke assuredly. “She possesses the right qualities to tame him in every way. He is putty in her hands, and I dare say she has already captured his heart.”
“If that is what you wish,” I replied. The words slipped between my lips in a tone of cynicism, revealing my personal thoughts.
“What I wish, Miss Gleadhell, is that you not interfere with my plans for my son. Should I ever catch you taking his arm again for any purpose, I shall lock you in your room for a day and feed you nothing.”
Her ladyship stepped briskly away, joining her son and Lady Buford. Shocked at the threat, I stood silently watching afraid to move an inch. As the other guests took their seats, I yearned to slip away through the doorway and escape. While pondering my exit, I saw the baron turn and glance over his shoulder at me. He caught sight of my hesitation and nodded for me to come to the front. His eyes held a demanding glare that required obedience, so I acquiesced to his calling. Her ladyship sat next to the conceited Lady Buford, and I took a seat next to her ladyship.
Everyone igno
red me as the musicians began their first piece. The musical entertainment turned into a sublime experience, taking my mind elsewhere. As the evening ended and the guests began to depart, I found myself slipping through the door and running up the staircase to my room. The baron and her ladyship were conversing with Lady Buford and had not even noticed my departure.
Even though I enjoyed the music, the evening had dealt a blow to my self-worth. I began to doubt whether staying at Whitefield Hall would be a wise decision. If I were the next to vanish, as his lordship put it, perhaps he would admit that his mother needed no one.
A Reprieve from Strife
After a fitful night of sleep, I finished my morning routine and headed downstairs for breakfast. I could not shake off a feeling of sadness over my predicament that I accepted the position of companionship in haste. In hindsight, perhaps I should have waited rather than running to be the first one to interview. Everything felt out of place and shrouded in mystery.
As I entered the dining room, I saw the baron sitting alone at the table. He saw me and rose to his feet.
“Good morning, Miss Gleadhell.” A warm smile brightened his face.
“Good morning,” I responded with little emotion. I walked over to the buffet and chose a tiny portion of eggs. My appetite fled with my joy. After I sat down and flipped open my napkin, I realized the absence of her ladyship.
“Where is your mother this morning?”
“Ill, I’m afraid,” he somberly replied. “Occasionally she succumbs to violent headaches. On such days, she stays in a darkened room and sleeps.”
“That is a shame. I wish her a speedy recovery,” I said, feigning my concern. I was extremely relieved that today I would be spared being in her presence. The disconcerting comments from last evening soured any feelings of endearment I held.
I lifted my gaze from my teacup and noticed the baron looking at me intently. Deep within his brown eyes, he appeared be at odds. To my surprise, he brought up the matter of the evening before.
“I sense, Miss Gleadhell, that Lady Buford may have injured your feelings by her cold look of disregard for your station in life.” He lowered his head as if he were ashamed about her behavior.
Surprised by his inquiry, I did not wish to reveal my real sentiments about the encounter. “I will admit that I found her to be rude and condescending, but I assure you my feelings have suffered no injury by her judgment of me as a person.” I kept my voice steady, straining to keep some pride in the situation, even though I did feel wounded.
“I see,” he said, taking a sip of tea. After he had dabbed his lips with his napkin, he settled back into the chair as if he planned to stay for an extended conversation.
I tried to discern his opinion of me in light of Lady Buford’s actions. “You have never appeared too concerned over the multiple companions that have come and gone from Whitefield Hall,” I said, speaking what was on my mind.
“I’ve never had cause for concern until your arrival,” he spoke with sincerity. “You may judge me all you wish, Miss Gleadhell. Perhaps I am a pompous aristocrat that is cold and heartless. I assure you, nevertheless, I can be as tenderhearted and loving as any other man.”
“Then do you love Lady Buford?” I could not believe the brash question that flew from my lips. It was untoward and indeed he would be offended by my prying.
“I do not,” he said, leaning forward. “My mother wants me to marry her as you well know. However, I have no intention of doing so now or ever.” His impassive voice and stoic facial expression expressed the sincerity of his comment.
Embarrassed by my question, I lowered my head. “Forgive me for prying. It is not my place to do so.” I turned my attention to the eggs on my plate, which had become cold. My stomach remained in a knot since last evening, and picking up the fork to stuff anything in it made me nauseous. Even more disturbing was the strange attraction I began to feel toward the baron. My emotions wrestled with the thought. What on earth was I thinking?
“I’m only humoring my mother,” he suddenly announced.
His comment interrupted my ponderings, causing me to glance at him once again. A mischievous smile emerged on his face, along with a twinkle in his eye that I believed impolite.
“Won’t she be angry with you for doing so? Perhaps you should be honest for her sake and that of Lady Buford.” I paused thinking about the wisdom of expressing my next thought. However, wisdom never arrived. “A man should never lead a lady on, your lordship. It’s a cruel thing to toy with the heart of another.”
He sat silently for a few moments fiddling with the napkin at the side of his plate. I shifted in my seat, struggling with an edgy, uncomfortable moment between us. I wanted to get up and leave again, which had become my normal thought of escape.
“Perhaps, but the alternative of pursuing another puts me in a precarious position,” he sadly commented. “I agree that a man should not toy with the heart of a woman, but I am also of the opinion he should not deny his heart if it desires something else.” The baron rose to his feet and bowed at the waist. “If you will excuse me, Miss Gleadhell. I have matters to attend to.”
I watched his hasty departure, wondering what brought on the instant change of mood. Finally alone in the dining room, I lowered my head and looked at the food on my plate and pushed it away. The footman on the other side of the table continued to stand like a marble statue. He only moved when needed and never showed an ounce of emotion. No doubt he was privy to many secrets looming around Whitefield Hall. His eyes shifted toward me for a moment and then looked straight ahead.
“Yes, I know,” I said crossly. “No consorting.” I rose to my feet, threw my napkin down on the tabletop, and glanced out the window. Another rare sunny day awaited outdoors. It beckoned me to leave and walk with no purpose or place in mind. As long as I could put distance between myself and the oddity of this new position, I did not care where it led my feet.
I flew out of the dining room and sprinted up the stairs. After retrieving my shawl and a broad-brimmed hat, I headed for the front door passing Mr. Grove on the way.
“Miss, where are you going?” he asked, following me out the front entrance. He flashed an alarming gaze.
“For a walk,” I replied nonchalantly. My feet briskly continued down the pebbled path toward the road.
“Her ladyship will not approve,” he called after me.
“I don’t care,” I yelled in return, not turning around.
When I reached the road, I glanced to my left and right wondering which way to go. I decided to turn right and glanced up at the blue sky. After inhaling a deep breath of fresh air, I put one foot in front of the other intent on taking a long, leisurely walk to clear my cluttered mind.
* * * *
Haste—it was a negative trait that I dealt with throughout life. For the most part, I never thought things through as far as consequences. I ran out the front door of Whitefield Hall in a pair of pumps not made for walking on a dusty, potholed road in the middle of the country.
I plopped down in my day dress on the green grass along the roadside and looked at the heel of my shoe that had popped off. There was no fixing it, and walking on it was painfully uneven. To do so, made me feel like a hobbling cripple, but I needed to get back to the estate. After strolling for more than an hour, I surmised I must have been at least a mile or more away.
I glanced about the landscape and saw nothing but green fields and forested glens spotting the scenery ahead. There was not a house in sight. Not one carriage or horse passed my way the entire time I wandered down the road. What I never realized while at Whitefield Hall is that the estate was relatively isolated. The baron no doubt owned thousands of acres. Certainly, he had tenants somewhere—just not within my eyesight.
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it,” I blubbered. I rose to my feet and brushed off the grass and dirt from my skirt now soiled. Rather than walk lopsidedly, I took off my good shoe and decided to walk in my stockings. If I were
careful to maneuver around the little stones in the roadway, perhaps I could get back by two or three o’clock with minimal discomfort to my feet. I tilted my head and glanced at the sun trying to calculate the time of day.
“Oh, the hour doesn’t matter,” I groaned. With both of my shoes held by the toes, I started my trek back to the estate. By now, someone must have noticed my absence. Perhaps Mr. Grove tattled on me for leaving. I hoped her ladyship lay asleep in her darkened bedchamber unaware of my little outing.
After a few minutes and multiple missteps on tiny pebbles that punctured a hole in my right stocking, I halted to feel sorry for myself. In the distance, I saw a horse and rider. With my free hand, I wiped my sweaty brow and shielded my eyes from the sun to get a better look. To my dismay, the baron approached, sporting a displeased frown.
Honestly, I felt relieved for the help but embarrassed about my state of affairs. A few moments later, he halted the horse and took note of my disheveled appearance. His eyes caught sight of my dirty stocking feet and shoes in one hand.
“A damsel in distress, I see.”
He pulled his mouth to one side, appearing quite amused by my predicament.
“I’ve broken my heel.” I straightened my spine to regain some semblance of dignity.
“Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to rescue you, Miss Gleadhell.” He dismounted and stood in front of me, holding the reins of the horse. “We can do this in one of two ways,” he said. “You can ride, and I’ll lead the horse back to the estate, or we can ride together. What is your preference?”
“Ride together?” I blurted out indignantly. Astonished he would suggest such physical closeness, I swiftly pronounced my preference. “I would prefer to ride the horse while you lead.”
He scowled. “What a shame. I should have liked to feel you next to me in the saddle,” he said.
Aghast over his brazen comment, I chided him in a stentorian voice. “Lord Beaumont, your comment is most inappropriate and ungentlemanly.”
The baron ignored me, reached out, and grabbed my waist. Caught off guard by his actions, I clung tightly to my shoes as he hastily hoisted me upon the saddle.
Whitefield Hall: Novella Page 5