by Jennifer Joy
Changing clothes and arranging her hair, Adélaïde left her bedchamber in search of Luc. She was half-way to his door when she remembered he was not there. How ridiculous of her to forget so soon! Standing in the hallway, Adélaïde looked about her, feeling somewhat lost. She was alone— really, truly alone.
Shoving the emptiness away with a force she had perfected over the years, Adélaïde determined to hurry downstairs to the busy chatter of her friends in the shop. She need never feel lonely so long as she had her girls.
Richard marched at a rapid clip until he arrived at Matlock House. The distance was not great, but it loosened his cramped muscles and lightened his mood considerably— even more than Miss Mauvier’s reaction to his apology. Richard was not a betting man— he had too little money to indulge in such a vice— but, he would bet a month’s salary that Miss Mauvier did not hear apologies often and uttered them even less. He did hold hopes that they could be more civil to each other on their next meeting. That there would be a next meeting, Richard was confident. It seemed that individuals who rubbed each other the wrong way were often thrown together all the more frequently as they attempted to avoid each other. Well, Richard had never purposely avoided a living soul, and he did not intend to do so with Miss Mauvier— especially with the way her green eyes flashed when she was angry. She reminded Richard of a cat with its high-maintenance attitude, firm opinions, and sharp claws. He wondered if she would purr if…
Snapping to, Richard forced himself to think of more gentlemanly things. He breathed to the pounding rhythm of his boots against the sidewalk, and his skin soon cooled. Besides, an exotic beauty such as Miss Mauvier would never look twice at a plain soldier such as he.
Richard walked past Darcy House, which would soon be left vacant when its residents returned to Pemberley. Uncle George and Georgiana would leave on the morrow, returning to their large estate at a quick pace. Darcy and his wife would also leave on the morrow, but in a different coach, and at a much more leisurely pace. Mrs. Darcy had seen so little of the country outside of London and her native Hertfordshire, Darcy had determined to show her all of his favorite spots along the way to her new home.
The sun blinded him as it peeked out from between the large houses, warming his coat. He probably looked like a walking flame in his uniform, but he had worn his best for his cousin’s wedding. Now, he longed for a steaming bath, a good shave, and the softer fabric of his off-duty clothes. He had one more free evening, and he would make the most of it before returning to duty in the morning.
Richard could see his family’s town home just down the street. They would stay the entire summer. Richard’s elder brother, Harold, was awaiting another child to be born in the winter, and his demanding wife became difficult to live with because of her incessant whining. It would be their second child, and Mother had determined to find an excuse to leave their estate should another confinement have to be endured. They would arrive with more than sufficient time for the blessed event, but Mother had been delighted to have Anne’s wedding as an excuse to leave. Now, since they were to stay in town for another couple of months, she had decided to redecorate the front parlor at Matlock House.
He found her in said room, with two maids standing atop chairs on either side of the window facing toward the street, holding up lengths of silk in varying colors. Mother pinched her chin and squinted at them, her eyes darting from the lighter yellow and blue on one side, to the dramatic gold and green on the other.
“Which do you prefer, Richard?” she asked without even turning around.
He drew closer so that he stood beside her. “They are both lovely, Mother. You have excellent taste and shall choose well.”
She huffed an exasperated breath. “I suppose that is what I deserve for asking a man his opinion of a decoration. Please, tell me, which do you prefer? For some reason, this has become more difficult than necessary.”
Had she asked which sword performed better in close engagement or which polish brought out the shine in his boots or saddle, Richard could have answered with confidence and ease. This was above his areas of expertise.
Mimicking her, Richard pinched his chin, widening his stance to stabilize his body as he focused his thoughts. After considerable thought, he said, “I like the green.”
She turned to him. “Why?”
Was it not enough that he had given an answer? “Green is a bold color… like a cat’s eyes.” Now, why on earth could he not think of something besides the color of Miss Mauvier’s eyes with which to compare the color? Grass, the leaves of a tree, an emerald, the stem of a rose…? Again, Richard had to rein in his thoughts as they took a more romantic turn.
“A cat’s eyes?” Mother asked.
Richard shrugged.
Addressing the maids, Mother said, “That will be all for now. I am afraid I am still undecided. Please be so kind as to fold the samples and place them in the chair near the window.”
They busied themselves in their work, and Mother looped her arm through Richard’s, leading him into the drawing room on the other side of the hall.
Father sat in his favorite leather chair, his feet propped up on a cushioned footstool, reading the newspaper with a drink beside him. Mother sat in a chair next to him, leaving the settee opposite them for Richard.
Lowering the paper, Father asked, “How was your ride into town?” with a sheepish smile.
“Interesting. Aunt Beatrice has a sharp mind and a way with plain speech any gentleman could appreciate.”
“And Miss Mauvier?” he asked, without finishing his question.
“Miss Mauvier has spent much time in the company of Aunt Beatrice and, I believe, speaks her opinions bluntly.”
Richard could not explain why the same quality was worthy of praise in the elderly lady, while it had chafed him with the young lady. Why would schemes to see her again run through his mind when she had injured his pride by calling him unjust?
Mother startled him when she gasped. Holding a finger up in the air, she said, “That is it! What a brilliant idea! Miss Mauvier is well-known for her designs in lady’s gowns. Her popularity grows amongst the ton with each season.” Addressing Richard, she asked, “Do you think she would help me?”
“You want her to make you a gown?” asked Richard, not quite following his mother’s reasoning.
“Since you mention it, I might as well see to that as well. I could stand to have a couple new dresses made, but I am thinking about the decorations in the house. She has an eye for that sort of thing, and I would trust her good taste.”
Father spoke up, “My love, you have superb taste. You would do just as well on your own.”
Richard nodded in agreement, but kept silent. If Mother visited Miss Mauvier’s shop, it would be easy to arrange to accompany her.
“It is much more enjoyable to dream of improvements to one’s home in the company of another female who can envision what I see in my mind— the part I can see, that is. There are some areas of the parlor I have no idea what to do with. It is such a large room.”
Father reached over and patted her hand. “If you feel that you need assistance, it can do no harm to ask the young lady.” With a devilish grin, he said to Richard, “Accompany your mother, unless you are otherwise occupied.”
“Father, I will not deny that Miss Mauvier is a charming lady in appearance and— provided we did not talk about anything remotely close to politics— in expression. No doubt, she will make a brilliant match with a dandy amongst the ton. I cannot marry until my circumstances improve.”
“It is good you take your responsibilities so seriously, Richard. However, do make sure that you do not let too many years pass by before you allow yourself the joy of making a good match. I regret not one moment I have spent with your mother. She is more beautiful to me now than when we first married.” He reached over to touch her hand, the admiration they felt for each other obvious to anyone who saw. Richard’s heart filled with longing. Would he ever be able to allow hi
mself to feel so much love?
“I should like to marry. I would like nothing better. It is just that I wish to marry for love, not a dowry. It would be my luck to fall for a poor lady I could never propose to because she would grow to hate me, almost as much as I would hate myself, for being unable to provide for her. I have seen it happen in the ranks too many times not to give the matter its deserved importance.”
“If we increase your allowance? I feel frivolous now for updating a room when I have a son who will not marry for lack of money.”
“Mother, no. Do you not see? I have enough to satisfy my needs, and I would never demand more.”
“You are not demanding it. I am offering it. Right, Henry? We can give Richard more, can we not?” she asked Father.
Father sighed deeply. “I wish I could support your offer, dear. It is made out of love. But, we have another son— the heir— with a growing family, whom we must also take into consideration, and,” he paused, looking at Richard, “if I am not mistaken, this is the very situation our boy is trying to avoid.”
It was a relief that Father understood. “It is true. You have wanted to redo the front parlor for a couple of years now. I would not feel good with myself if I let you postpone something that brought you joy only to suit my wishes. No, Mother, I have done everything possible to put myself in the way of a promotion. I did it once, and I hope to do it again. Then, I can earn what I most desire without going down in my own esteem.”
“You will make a fine husband to one very fortunate lady someday,” said Mother.
Richard could only hope.
Chapter 5
Richard woke early the following morning, giving himself sufficient time to ride to Knightsbridge barracks. His pressed coat felt stiff on his back, and his boots shone.
He waited a moment as his horse was brought around to the front of the house. It was a pleasant morning, and Richard anticipated getting back into his normal routine.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” asked a messenger, approaching the steps on foot.
“Yes? Do you have something for me?” asked Richard.
The messenger held out a letter, sealed with wax, in a thick envelope.
Tugging at the seal to open it, Richard tried to calm the worry rising in his chest. It was too early in the morning to be good news.
Large, bold letters spread across the page— the work of a firm hand. When Richard saw the signature at the bottom, he relaxed. It was from the neighbor of his youth, the boy ten years his senior from the estate near Matlock. John Dovedale— or rather, Lieutenant General Dovedale as he was well-known now. Through acts of valor, he had been promoted until he had been given a post as an assistant to the Commander-in-Chief, the Duke of York, in London. It was the military career dreams were made of, and he requested Richard’s presence at his office that very morning.
Lieutenant General Dovedale’s office was located just over two miles away from Richard’s barracks, near the river Thames, between Whitehall and St. James Park.
The Palladian-style architecture of the sprawled out building the Commander-in-Chief’s office was in was the envy of every officer housed at Knightsbridge. The grounds spread out, giving ample room for drills and maneuvers and allowing the sun to chase away the dampness prevalent in his current barracks. Richard had not had much occasion to visit the multiple-level building with its arches and cupolas. The thick, square stones gave it a sturdy appearance, much like the outer wall of a fortress. The courtyard bore the carving of the Royal Arms and Supporters. Important decisions were made inside, and Richard drew comfort from its stability.
Lieutenant General Dovedale’s office was on the second floor, as he found out. Richard’s boots clacked against the marble floor, so clean and polished, it resembled a mirror. Civilian clerks roamed from room to room, documents and rolls of parchment paper in their ink-stained hands. An officer in the entryway sat behind a stout, oak desk with ledgers stacked in neat piles. He scratched an annotation into one of them until he heard Richard approach.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the officer rose and bowed, stating, “Lieutenant General Dovedale is expecting you. Please come with me.” The officer turned about-face and down a short corridor, flanked by the Adjutant General on one side, and the Deputy to the Commander-in-Chief on the other, where he knocked on the door two times before standing beside the door to allow Richard to pass.
With a nod to the officer, Richard entered the room. It was a magnificent space— one befitting a great man who had achieved lofty goals. He had only taken three steps into the room, and already he felt its influence. Windows lined the wall in front of him and to the side, illuminating everything clearly. High, white ceilings with intricate engravings etched in gold and a painting of cherubs looked down upon him; a thick rug with a bold red and gold design padded his steps as he crossed through a sitting area near the fireplace to an imposingly large desk where a man with premature silver hair stood.
Walking around the desk, Lieutenant General Dovedale welcomed Richard with the warmth of an old friend. “How good to see you after all these years, Fitzwilliam. Please, in the confines of this office, call me Dovedale. You knew me before all this.” He waved his hands about the room with its tall windows on one side and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the other. “Not to mention that my rank is a mouthful,” he added with a chuckle.
“Thank you, Dovedale. It is difficult to imagine, seeing you here, that we used to race our horses over the fields at your family’s estate as boys.”
Dovedale nodded his head and laughed. “I daresay you would best me on a horse now. You entered the cavalry, did you not? How has military life treated you?” He motioned to a velvet chair the same color as Richard’s coat, and he took his seat behind his desk.
“I cannot complain. It is an honorable profession.”
His face growing more serious, Dovedale said, “I was sad to hear that you were sent to the continent after enlisting. I take it you are in no hurry to return?”
Richard grunted. “I had enlisted with the Life Guards knowing that they rarely left England. It was a shock. I am certain it was no worse for me than when you were there, only I did not distinguish myself as you did.”
Dovedale huffed, “Oh, yes, my gallant acts of bravery,” he said in a mocking tone, “which were nothing more than the acts of a headstrong youth seeking glory.” He waved off the compliment. “Bravery is overrated among the young. Ah, well, it got me my first promotion, and now, here we are.”
His modesty was impressive. Richard knew that he had foiled a plot to assassinate the Duke of York during the Flanders Campaign in the Dutch Republic. The battle was lost, and the British army was forced to acknowledge their weaknesses before the superiority of the French, but Dovedale had gained a powerful ally who later granted him the first of many promotions. And now, Dovedale was showing an interest in Richard.
Lowering his tone, Dovedale continued, “I did not call you here today merely to reminisce, although I will admit that it is good to see you, and I have yet to ask about your family. How are they?”
Richard’s curiosity piqued. What was Dovedale about?
“Mother and Father are currently in town. They would love to see you, I am certain.”
“My wife and I shall have to pay them a call.”
“They would enjoy that very much. Mother is currently updating the front parlor, and I am certain she would appreciate the tasteful opinions of Mrs. Dovedale.”
Dovedale grimaced slightly. “She does have good taste. I only wish she did not find so much to her liking.” Shaking his head and lightening his expression, he continued, “I just get used to a new chair in my study, and she replaces it with another, more stylish one that in my eye is the image of the previous chair. You have done well not to rush into marriage, Fitzwilliam. A woman changes everything.”
“I suppose that is how it must be, yet, even with the little inconveniences, the great majority of men do take wives. Perhaps there is more good
than bad?” suggested Richard.
“Of course there is. I would marry Emilia again tomorrow if given the chance. I do wish she would leave my study be though. A man needs a space free of feminine influence, I think. You will find out soon enough when your time comes.”
“I may find such a thing out, but I do not believe it to happen too soon.”
Dovedale considered him for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “I am sorry to say that, for now, I am happy to hear that you are unburdened with the constraints of an attachment. There is a matter of grave importance I wish to share with you, but before I reveal any details, I must have your promise of silence.”
Richard sat up in his chair, hesitating before giving an answer to such a serious proposal. “Before you reveal anything of importance, I must ask if you are certain you trust me with whatever it is you wish to share? There are other, more qualified officers from whom to choose.” Richard had confidence in his proficiency as a colonel. He commanded his men well, and they respected his position out of both duty and friendship. But this…, this was different.
Dovedale shook his head before Richard could enumerate his deficiencies. “I am certain. I personally chose you because I know you to be an honorable man. You have a way with people, making friends easily, and you excel in diffusing conflict. Your only fault has been modesty. I have read your records, and you have acted with loyalty, integrity, and efficiency during your career in His Majesty’s Army. You should be commended for your service, instead of living on meager means in a cramped, damp barracks. I am able to offer you an opportunity.”
Richard leaned forward in his chair.
“Before I reveal the details of the assignment, let me elaborate on what it will do for you. Naturally, if we work together, you would be offered a promotion along with the appropriate pay raise. It would enable any gentleman to purchase an estate, should he wish, within a reasonable period of time.” Dovedale paused, allowing his words to sink in.