“I didn’t meet her. I happened to accidently, well, quite purposefully, have been in some of the same shops she likes to frequent. I struck up a conversation or two…just to get an inkling of what kind of person she is. Easily flattered, easily flustered. She and Mother could not be more different. Mother is a strong whiskey while she is a mushy pudding. And she had no idea who I was,” Venetia finished a bit defensively.
Dominic could only stare. His beautiful, delicate sister, an expert at espionage.
“But, to return to our previous conversation, I debated marrying Bingham for months because I knew you and Mother did not care for him. He will never be as handsome as you or as witty as Daniel Thornton or even be as wealthy as Colin Monteville but he makes me a better person. I was becoming so harsh and, well, sharp…more like Mother every day but without the excuses for such bitterness. Burton reminds me to be kind and patient. You will find this repulsive, but he wakes me every morning with a kiss and says that he is the luckiest man in the world. He truly means every compliment. He’ll never betray me. And that is far better than a loftier title or a larger manor house.”
Venetia stood and folded the lace carefully before placing it into her sewing bag. She tossed the bag onto the sofa before standing to smooth the wrinkles from her evening gown.
“It occurs to me that you have spent your adulthood proving to others, mostly Mother, that you are nothing like Father. Everyone beneath our station is completely beyond your notice. There was never a danger of you humiliating her with some unsavory liaison with one of the staff. But perhaps you should have been more intent on not being like Father by finding a wonderful person and never being tempted to stray, much less dying and causing a scandal when a second family comes to light.”
Venetia’s full lips tightened, and her blue eyes clouded momentarily by past pains that would never completely be forgotten. She gave a slight shake of her golden head as if to wipe the memory away.
“Now, I should go and see what Burton has found in the library. He’s likely discovered something interesting to read and forgotten his true mission. But I will leave you with these words of advice, dear brother. Whoever has had you moping for the last two months will not wait forever. I’m assuming it’s the maid who you nearly seduced in Edith’s bedroom. The maid who happened to be employed at the same cottage that you resided in this summer. The same maid who caused you to break a perfectly sturdy teacup when her name was merely mentioned in Mother’s parlor. The same maid who has a strapping young footman following her around like a loyal hound and trying to waylay her every time she takes the rubbish out.”
Dominic’s lip curled slightly at her description of the footman. He had seen Mia twice outside and, on both occasions, that grinning jackanapes was glued to her side. If Mia had not looked so disinterested, he would have happily thrown the ash bucket out the window at the two of them.
“No laughing. That footman isn’t nearly as self-absorbed as you. He might turn her head yet.” She grinned devilishly before sobering again, concern flashing across her angelic features. “And my maid, Dulcie, says that Lord Felling was asking all sorts of questions to the other staff about her. Innocent questions but his interest isn’t something I’d let be encouraged.”
Mia would easily see through Felling, Dominic thought. She could read people and their intentions easily and Felling’s motives were obvious except to the most naïve of women. “I can’t believe that you have deduced so much in so short of time, Venetia.”
“Oh, you were terribly obvious. Bleeding all over the carpeting and then declaring that you would attend this house party only a day later? I knew something had to be more than amiss. We were considering declining the invitation ourselves this year but after your unusual actions, I knew I had to see what you were trying – very unsuccessfully – to hide. You are as easy to outwit as Robbie’s peahen mother.” Venetia gave him a superior, gloating smirk before becoming serious again.
“Do think on what I’ve said on what we should really be demanding in a partner. Mother and Father’s marriage was perfectly logical, yet they ended up perfectly unhappy. You’ve been chasing these intimidating women to prove that you deserve their esteem. But there is nothing more to prove to Father. He is dead and no matter how many lovely women say that you are worthy, you are not going to win his approval. And Mother’s approval would be impossible to satisfy unless you marry royalty and unattached princesses are so very rare these days. Find someone that will make you happy…perhaps make you into someone even better…instead of continually trying to make the world envious of you. We are Attwoods. What others think really doesn’t account for much.”
Satisfied that she had given him something to consider, she walked purposefully to the door but glanced back, her cheeks becoming a bit rosier.
“Burton is a truly wonderful and attentive husband no matter what you may think of him. I know he will make the very best of fathers.” She placed a hand over her still flat belly and gave a very un-Venetia-like giggle as an ecstatic smile spread across her face.
After a stunned moment, Dominic leaped to his feet and raised his still-full wine glass in congratulations. He had assumed that after five years of marriage, Venetia and Bingham were going to be childless forever. He actually preferred the thought of them being completely asexual creatures who only enjoyed accompanying each other to events and who happened to reside in the same house. He supposed he would have to let go of that pleasant fantasy now.
Now the sight of Venetia knitting lace did make sense – she’d likely be trimming christening gowns and baby bonnets for months. He supposed he would see her knitting baby booties next while Burton attempted to whittle horses and soldiers from wood blocks.
“Thank you for your advice, Venetia,” he said honestly. The image of a miniature version of Burton running about Swithun Hall was the first humorous thought he’d had in months. Well, hopefully the baby would inherit Venetia’s beauty and wit…though any child would likely be more bearable if blessed with Burton’s good nature. “That is a very fortunate baby. You will be the very best of mothers.”
Venetia’s face had already smoothed back into the beautiful but impassive expression she usually wore, and her posture was again ramrod straight, but her eyes still twinkled merrily.
“Well, that was never in question.”
Chapter 19
Mia’s shoes lightly padded down the dark servants’ stairs as her hands busily tied the apron behind her waist. Mrs. Greaves had nearly had an aneurysm when Jenny had accidently knocked over the wine. All the servants had watched in horror when it had splashed down Mia’s front and sprayed the lark pie. Mrs. Vincent, who was usually quite genial, screamed at them all to “Toe the line, you lot! I’ll batter the next son of a gun who messes up my kitchen!” Though few of them understood her words, her meaning was clear, and they all scrambled to fetch another bottle of wine, to clean the floor and table, and to prepare another side dish for cooking since Lady Darwinkle would be sure to notice a missing dish. Mia had been ordered upstairs to change her dress and apron. Female servants weren’t to be seen by the family or their guests, but mistakes happened, and Mia couldn’t chance appearing as if she just crawled out of a wine cask.
“It’s a wonder I haven’t tumbled to my death yet,” Mia muttered to herself as she descended to the second floor. Steep and narrow, the servants’ stairs were the most ridiculous notion Mia could imagine. The Darwinkles hadn’t wished to fit the staircases with gas lighting when they improved upon the rest of the house, so the stairs relied on only a few small windows for light.
“I had hoped it was you,” a voice said as the green baized door opened.
Mia paused on the last step before the landing, her foot halted in mid-air. Lord Felling, formally attired and the picture of a gentleman, stood in the narrow shaft of light the opened door allowed from the well-lit family’s hallway. Mrs. Greaves had reminded her when she first was hired that she should always stand below her bett
ers and keep her eyes on the hems of their skirts or on their well-polished shoes. Mia disregarded the housekeeper’s edict as she moved backwards to the higher step.
“How may I help you, my lord?” Mia asked, knowing full well that no guest or family member would ever enter the servants’ stairs. The bell-pull system was created to keep all the betters from venturing into the servants’ domain.
“I just wanted to discuss something with you.” Lord Felling pulled the door nearly closed behind him and the stairwell again was enveloped in darkness.
“Dinner will be called soon, my lord. Mrs. Greaves and Mrs. Vincent will be looking for me,” Mia reminded him, her eyes watching his every movement.
“I know that Lord Swithun and you were…acquainted earlier this year.” Lord Felling ignored her excuse to leave. He hadn’t moved any further, but he was still uncomfortably near, only an arms distance away. “And I am not judging your decisions. I understand how it might be in a girl’s best interest to be…friends with the most powerful man in the house.”
Mia remained silent, uninterested in defending or denying her actions.
“As you know, I am Lady Darwinkle’s favorite nephew and a frequent guest.” He reached out and took her slight hand in his two white-gloved hands. “I, too, could find ways to make your life at Darwinkle House much more comfortable. Maybe even secure you a position in their London house. How exciting for a country girl like you.”
“I shall keep that in mind,” Mia replied. She tugged her hand out of his as she edged her way past him, her skirts brushing against his trousers so she could continue her way down to the kitchen. “I really must go before Mrs. Greaves comes looking for me.”
“My cousins are still dressing for dinner. And I know that the kitchen is in a dither. They always are for these house parties. No one will even notice your absence.” His voice dripped reassurance as he blocked her way again.
Mia smiled tightly, but her mind was rapidly considering her options. She could attempt to return to her room where there was a knife under her pillow, but he’d likely overtake her on the stairs. She could scream but the walls and doors were lined with green baize to deaden the irritating clatter of servant’s work and absorb the smells from the kitchen; it was unlikely anyone in the currently tumultuous kitchen would hear a commotion two floors away.
“Let me be a little clearer,” Lord Felling said, running his index finger up her sleeve. “I could be a great friend to you, but I expect something in return. If I find our arrangement satisfactory, there could be a position as ladies’ maid in your near future. I can effectuate those kinds of changes in fortune.”
“I’m quite happy as a chambermaid, thank you, my lord.” Mia turned towards the staircase again, her stomach churning with anger and a bit of fear. She clenched her fists, unsure if it was only to stop them from shaking or preparing for something much worse. He was too close to kick and her soft-soled slippers would do little damage even if she managed to find the opportunity.
Lord Felling grabbed her arm and spun her back around to face him. “I’m trying to be pleasant to you, to give you opportunities your little upstart self could only imagine. I’ve asked about you. A drummer’s daughter with no prospects or suitors. An earl’s summer whore. It must be difficult to even find a position as good as this one.”
As he gripped both her arms with steely fingers, he leaned closer, his face only inches from her own. She could smell the wine on his breath. His green eyes were smiling, and she knew it was because he thought she had no options. And she hated him for that smugness more than she did for his disgusting proposition.
“If you want to value your position here, your livelihood, you’ll take me up on my generous offer.” He slid one hand down to her wrist, picked up her limp fingers, pressed them against the front of his trousers. He then leaned closer to whisper in her ear, his mustache tickling her skin, “And it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
Mia didn’t pull away or gasp. She was certain he’d made these suggestions to others. Likely his earlier tactics had shamed and intimidated women like Annie or Jenny. Girls with no families and nowhere to go if they lost their livelihood. A stable position in a fine household was the best many people could imagine.
But Mia wasn’t most women. She had ten pounds hidden in her room. She had been tossed out of households for indecent behavior she had willingly committed and had survived the embarrassment. She wouldn’t be paralyzed now for fear of causing a scene when servants and women should always be pleasant or invisible.
“So we do understand each other.” Lord Felling’s satisfied tone indicated that he was taking her silence for assent. He rubbed the back of her knuckles on the front of his still flat trousers.
“I do understand your meaning,” Mia responded. If Lord Felling had bothered to look at her face, he would have seen that her eyes were lit with fury. “But I have declined more tempting offers from gentlemen far better than you.”
And she let out an ear-piercing scream while simultaneously grabbing and twisting what Lord Felling was encouraging her to fondle.
∞∞∞
“Mother, I’ve come for the ring,” Dominic announced as he unceremoniously barged into her room.
“Of which ring are you speaking?” Lady Swithun did not pause in her writing or even glance in her oldest child’s direction.
“The engagement ring,” Dominic replied even as he clumsily searched through the vanity.
The ring in question was his grandmother’s engagement ring, a ring that had not left his grandmother’s finger until her death when it had been held in reverence, patiently waiting for Dominic to finally choose a bride. Lady Swithun had not-so-subtly informed him on numerous occasions that she packed the ring every time they traveled to and from London should he have the notion to marry. He had roundly ignored her nagging and had never even asked to see the blasted thing though he now wished he had been slightly more curious. He wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from any of her other jewelry at present.
“So you have decided on one? Lavinia or Sylvia?” Lady Swithun’s fountain pen had stilled, but she still didn’t face him.
Dominic didn’t answer but continued to paw through her things. “Damn it, Mother. Where do you keep it?”
“I hardly leave such things lying about.” She rose from the escritoire and languidly shut her bedchamber door before making her way back across the room towards her locked trunk. “Though I don’t think this is the appropriate time, Dominic. We are about to descend to dinner. You haven’t even spoken to Lord Darwinkle yet. We can presume his permission, but the niceties must still be observed.”
“Darwinkle is a half-wit and his daughters are just as foolish,” Dominic said harshly as he reached for the ring box that his mother had pulled from the depths of the trunk.
“Then to whom do you intend to give this ring?” Lady Swithun’s dark eyebrows nearly touched in the middle as she dropped her hand holding the ring box to her side, safely out of her son’s reach.
“Someone I met this summer.” Dominic had no interest in explaining further. Now that he’d made the decision, he wanted to ask Mia to marry him as soon as possible. They’d elope. He would already cause a scandal marrying someone so far beneath him; he may as well give the gossips something more to delight in discussing over their morning chocolate. In for a penny…
“In Lincolnshire?” His mother’s dark eyebrows now rose to her graying hairline. She was nonplussed for only a moment. Her chin tilted towards the ceiling and she looked down her hawkish nose at him despite him being six inches taller than her. “I believe I know no one of note in Lincolnshire.”
“We shall have to widen your circle of acquaintances.” Dominic made another attempt for the ring box, but she angled her body to delay for more time.
“Why this urgency?” Lady Swithun demanded as she turned in a neat circle and made her way back to her desk. “Is she visiting locally? And surely any proposal should wait for a
more decent hour. I’ll give this to you in the morning. You can tell us all about your future bride over dinner. I daresay the Darwinkles will be most surprised.”
“I daresay they will be. She is a chambermaid here at Darwinkle House.”
“Oh, Dominic, you are too droll but perhaps you should conserve your humor for the dinner conversation.” Despite her waving away his words, Lady Swithun did not look amused. There was a tightness about her thin lips and alarm and disbelief blazing in her dark eyes.
“Mother, I’ll have the ring now.” He easily plucked the box from her fingers, but he hadn’t expected a physical struggle. She was far too dignified for such ill-comportment.
“Dominic.” Her voice broke, and she began again. “Dominic, perhaps I was hasty in encouraging you to marry. You are still young and there are many suitable young ladies who you are, as yet, not well acquainted. I implore you to reconsider your course. Such rash decisions will have disastrous effects on the family name. Your sisters…”
“This is no rash decision, Mother.” Dominic crossed her bedroom towards the door. “It is one I should have decided months ago. My misery and our months apart have been completely unnecessary.”
For a woman who previously believed that no one should ambulate faster than languid grace would allow, she moved rather quickly and blocked his exit.
“Your sisters will be ruined. Georgiana has difficulties enough without…”
“Mother, Georgiana and Edith will survive this. Great-uncle Frederick entertained all his guests wearing an indecently cut ballgown. Cousin Clementia insisted on being carried in a sedan chair even about her own home. And she was having a quite obvious affair with the footman twenty years her junior.”
“But they both made brilliant marriages! You are choosing this…this…” Her hands twitched in front of her while she searched for an appropriate word and found none. “Over your family?”
“No, she is an addition to my life, not a trade or substitution.” He clasped both her hands in his. Her fingers felt icy and fragile despite her gloves. “I hope that Edith, Georgiana, and Venetia will grow to love her as well. I’m reasonably certain that Burton will love her before ever making her acquaintance.”
One Enchanted Summer Page 22