Phoebe extracted a rolled up sheet of parchment from another drawer in the huge mahogany desk. She curtsied and presented the scroll to the couple. “Mary. Tom. It is with much love and gratitude that Robert and I present you with this wedding gift.”
“My word. Phoebe, what is it?” Mary was curious.
“I daresay it’s something you will love, Lady Mary.” Atwater winked at his wife.
“Open it, dear Mary. You too, Tom. Open it together. It’s for the two of you.”
They unrolled the parchment. Tom immediately began briefing it. “Why it appears to be a lease of some sort.” He looked at Atwater.
“What sort of lawyer are you, Tom?” Atwater laughed. “It’s a deed.”
“A deed? You mean to a property?” Mary questioned Atwater.
“Yes. The deed to a property, Lady Mary.” Atwater and Phoebe beamed.
“Mary, it’s the deed to Pinebrook Manor.” Tom seemed overwhelmed.
“What? You mean to say it’s ours?” Mary tore the parchment from her husband’s hand. “Pinebrook Manor?”
“The estate now belongs to the Radcliffes. Both of you. And if anything were ever to happen, to one or the two of you, the estate would stay with your children ... all of them. Divided equally. If you have only one child, and it should be female, the house would go to her, not her husband or cousin. This ensures that the members of your immediate family will always have a place to call home.”
Mary had tears in her eyes. “Oh. This is too grand. I am without words.” She ran to Phoebe and hugged her. She curtsied, and then hugged Atwater.
Tom still sat on the sofa. “Phoebe, Robert. No one has ever been so kind to me. My wife has told me that she’s never had kinder treatment than when in your employ, Phoebe. I don’t know what to say. This gesture has rendered me speechless.”
“Then say thank you, and let’s have a toast.” That was the prearranged signal Atwater had set up with Terence.
The butler entered the drawing room with a bottle of French champagne, proceeded to pop the cork, and poured four glasses of the golden liquid. He then bowed and turned to leave.
“Oh, no you don’t. You will join us Terence. Please.” Tom stopped the butler with a hand on his arm. “Please toast with us, Terence.”
Phoebe and Atwater nodded. “Yes, stay Terence.”
The butler shyly accepted a glass of the bubbly, and the five toasted to health, happiness, and long life.
*******
It was November. The London season would be starting soon. The Atwaters and Radcliffes planned on returning to the city in a week or two.
In the meantime, Mrs Crabtree had suggested a ball at Hempstead to kick off the season. Phoebe and Mary got to work writing cards of invitation to those still residing in the country. Susan oversaw the staff in the cleaning and readying of the library, drawing and ball rooms when she wasn’t assisting Mrs Crabtree or practicing on the pianoforte.
The house looked beautiful. Candles lit up every corner of every room on the main floor with soft, golden light. Mary and Phoebe both sported new frocks, Phoebe resplendent in pomona while Mary dazzled with her favourite ... white silk. Their husbands were finely dressed with tall hats and buckskin pantaloons.
The musicians were hidden behind a screen of plants, and the couples stepped out to the dance floor as the music began. Atwater watched his wife dance with a soldier. Tom twirled Mary about causing her to giggle.
Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
Atwater inhaled deeply. He hadn’t felt so good and rested in quite a while. All was well, and as he looked all around the room at the smiling faces and whirling couples, he exhaled. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was going to be a grand season.
Chapter 15
“Phoebe?” Lady Mary stood in the foyer of the Regent Street townhouse. It was almost time to move to the country for the summer. Mary had a frock to give Phoebe. She’d had it made for her friend as a thank you for all the help Phoebe had given Mary in learning to be a lady.
She had a key to the house, so instead of disturbing Terence, she let herself in. She removed her bonnet, setting it on the side table and proceeding up to Phoebe’s chamber. It was after six in the evening. Her friend was most likely having a little supper in her sitting room.
“Phoebe.” Mary looked around. The house appeared empty. “Hmm. How odd.” She wondered for a moment what she should do. She caught a glimpse of movement on the lower level and turned towards it thinking it to be her friend. “Phoebe?”
Laughter and voices came up to her ears, and Lady Mary made her way back down to the main floor. Phoebe and Atwater were coming in from the mews having gone for a ride in Hyde Park. “Phoebe? Your Grace?”
“Mary! How nice to see you. What a pleasant surprise.” Phoebe hugged her dear friend. “You will stay to supper, won’t you? I’m terribly sorry no one was here to assist you when you came in.”
“No one is here? Why I thought I saw someone.”
“No. They’ve all gone into the countryside for a Mayday party.” Phoebe smiled. “Isn’t it lovely? Our staff is like a little family. In fact, I feel almost as a proud mama when I think of them at the party playing games and having fun. Dancing and laughing.”
“So we’re alone in the house?”
“I believe that’s what I just said. Are you unwell, Mary? You look strange.”
“Ladies, I must see to our lovely mare since Jimmy is at the Mayday party. I will be in the mews playing groom.” Atwater chuckled to himself.
“Yes dear heart. Come Mary. Come downstairs to the family sitting room. I’ll make tea. It will brighten your mood.”
“Oh, I’m fine, Phoebe. I just thought I saw ... oh, it was nothing. A shadow perhaps.”
“Shushie. Mrs Crabtree left cold supper and also some dishes that are warm in the oven. I will serve.”
Mary, lightening at the thought of Phoebe serving supper, laughed and went to the kitchen. “No, My Lady. I will serve.”
The two burst into laughter.
“But let us eat here at the kitchen work table rather than carry everything into the sitting room,” Mary suggested.
“Lady Radcliffe, how wise you are.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Again the two young women fell into paroxysms of laughter.
“What are you two giggling about? And, Lady Mary, look what I’ve found.”
Tom came into the kitchen and kissed his wife. He brought Phoebe’s hand to his lips then took a seat at the table. “It’s a perfect night for a game of …”
“Whist!” Lady Phoebe cried out. It was a source of never-ending delight to Phoebe that Tom Radcliffe took as much delight from card games as she did.
“We trade for teams,” Mary supplied. “Your Grace ... you are my partner, and Phoebe, you and Tom are partners.”
“I hope you’re not an ungracious loser, Lady Radcliffe.” Tom grinned.
“No more ungracious than you can be, My Lord.” Mary and Tom enjoyed teasing each other.
“Very well then. Let us get started. Oh, but first. Your Grace …”
“Yes, my darling. I will get some wine from the cellar.”
Phoebe smiled at her husband.
*******
Two hours later, the whist game was still going strong. The couples had taken to light gambling, and they laughed and laughed some more.
“I for one cannot believe it’s been a year since our marriages took place. I can say with all honesty that I’m ecstatically happy. I don’t believe I’ve ever been happier.” Mary wiped a quick tear from her eye and took a sip of wine.
“It’s been glorious.” Atwater smiled again at Phoebe. “I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you, darling.”
“Oh yes, on the road out of town. I remember. But never did I think I’d meet you, much less marry you. I did dream about you, though.”
Atwater caught her hand and squeezed it then looked at his guests. “It has been
a wonderful, wonderful year. And I daresay we need to make a toast.”
Tom was laughing, “You and your toasts!”
“I can’t help it, Tom. Mary, you must be informed that Phoebe knows this about me. I love to make toasts.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t know this about you, Robert!” Tom laughed harder.
“There’s so much to be thankful for. We are all so blessed. But, I truly feel like the luckiest man alive,” Atwater declared.
“Oh darling.” Phoebe blew a kiss to Atwater. Mary and Tom gazed deep
into each other’s eyes.
Atwater raised his glass, “To Lady Aphrodite and the blessings she has bestowed upon us. Here, here.” They clinked their glasses and drank the expensive champagne that Atwater was so fond of.
“Oh la! I’m famished. What did Mrs Crabtree leave for us?” Mary asked.
“Hmm, let me see ... ooh, there’s seed cake,” Phoebe announced. “Cold roast chicken, rolls, cheese, jam tarts, madeira which is perfect after champagne.” She winked at Atwater. “And there’s warm custard pudding, and tea.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Atwater nodded his head happily. “Let us all eat. And on the morrow we will make our way to Hempstead.”
“And we will head to Pinebrook.” Tom and Mary laughed.
The four clinked their glasses together and drank deeply. Life was good, and all was well.
*******
Three days later, after an impromptu ball held by a neighbour, Phoebe slept in while Atwater shaved and dressed. He was in the library by eight a.m. having coffee and reading one of the newspapers, catching himself up on some of the latest happenings in London.
The library door opened, and Terence came in with a small glass of brandy for Atwater. “Your Grace.” Terence set a small silver tray on the desk. “A young man brought this round today, Your Grace.”
“Hmm? What‘s that Terence?” Atwater set the paper down and looked at the butler.
“A letter, Your Grace.”
“Oh, must be an invitation to something or other. Thank you, Terence. I’ll read it later.” Atwater took the letter from the tray, looked at the wax seal and finding no crest, set the packet back down on the tray. He went about finishing up with his paper.
An hour later, the Duke emerged from his chamber in his riding clothes.
*******
Phoebe’s new lady’s maid, Abigail, entered Phoebe’s bedchamber. Her mistress was just awakening.
“Good Morning, Your Grace. I have your chocolate and some of the seed cake from yesterday.”
“Thank you, Abigail. Will you see to my riding habit? I believe I’d like to try that new filly, Belle. You’ll ask Jimmy to get her ready for me, will you?”
“Why of course, Your Grace.” Abigail went to the clothes press and searched for Phoebe’s new riding frock. “Here we are. Would Your Grace like your hair curled or in braids this morning?”
“I think braids. They can be wound around my head. My hair stays out of my eyes that way.”
“And I daresay, the braids are a good anchor for this little bonnet.”
“Right you are, Abby.” Phoebe smiled and had a sip of chocolate. “Oh delicious. Did you make this chocolate, Abby?”
“Yes. Your Grace.”
“It’s so thick and creamy. It’s wonderful.”
“It’s made in the Spanish style, Your Grace.”
“However did you learn to make it?”
“My grandmother is from Barcelona, Your Grace.”
“So do you speak the language of Spain?”
“Si, Excelensia.”
Phoebe clapped her hands. “Will you teach me, Abby? I would so love to learn to speak Spanish.”
“Yes, Your Grace, I would be happy to.”
“Wonderful. After my ride, I’ll consult with you about lessons. Maybe we can do them here when I rise in the morning. If you only spoke Spanish to me, I’d eventually begin to understand. La! I look forward to it.”
“I look forward to it as well, Your Grace.”
Phoebe finished her chocolate and got out of the huge bed. Robert had left some time ago, and there was a single pink rose on the pillow next to hers.
She smiled. Married life suited Phoebe very well. The only missing element was the child she wanted to bring into the world of love that she and Robert had created. She knew it would be soon enough. She might as well go riding in the park when she had the chance.
“Your Grace, the bath is ready.”
Phoebe moved over to the fireplace, shedding her chemise as she did. The water smelled of lavender and roses, and indeed, Abby had strewn the surface of the water with petals from the flowers.
Abby held Phoebe’s hand to assist her as she stepped into the big copper tub, another present from her husband.
Phoebe slid down into the fragrant steam up to her neck. She breathed deeply. “This is Heavenly, Abby.”
“I’m happy that Your Grace is pleased. I will give you some privacy to bathe, Your Grace. Please ring me if you need anything. It’s the same bell your former maid had. Otherwise, I shall be back in thirty minutes or so.”
“Very good, Abby.”
“Your Grace.” Abby bowed her head and exited the room.
Phoebe closed her eyes and felt any residual tension melt from her neck and shoulders. Finally, things were getting back to normal. There were the happy moments, days and hours. The last year had been full of surprises and changes. Most of the surprises were happy ones. Phoebe didn’t want to think about the others.
She heard the door open quietly. “Abby, has it been thirty minutes already?”
Hearing nothing else, she opened her eyes. Before she knew what was happening, her mouth was covered. The touch of a blade rested at her throat. A harsh whisper came to her ear.
“Stand up.” Two arms reached under her armpits and lifted her from the water. “Do not make a sound or you die. Your little maid is tied up,” the voice broke into rusty laughter, “in the kitchen. You will bleed to death before anyone makes it to the top of the stairs.”
Phoebe’s eyes were wide with fear. As far as she could tell, there were two individuals in the chamber with her. A dark piece of fabric had been tied around her eyes.
“Grab the riding dress and whatever else is there on the bed. Step into these slippers. Your Grace, I’m talking to you.”
Phoebe felt a chemise fall over her body, and her light pelisse was thrown across her shoulders. She was yanked forward and pulled into the corridor. The interlopers guided her to the end of the hall and down the forgotten stairs.
Years before, the first Duke had done renovations at Hempstead Hall. He’d had new servants’ stairs put in due to the kitchen having been moved.
The stairs Phoebe was on had not been used in decades. In fact, the previous week, Robert had mentioned they should be blocked off from the house and the door at the bottom sealed. The small side door, set far back on the outer wall of the main house, opened almost directly into the wilderness behind the house. Beyond that there was an overgrown road, no longer used.
Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 20