Beaumont, spotting George, called out. “I say, old man, now that the showers have passed are we to carry on with our ride, or shall we call it an afternoon?”
Ann and Charlotte protested, demanding they continue on to Cranborne Chase, but George was angry with his mother and her treatment of Lucy and did not feel sympathetic to his sisters’ plight.
“Not today. The weather is still very uncertain, and I fear we would no sooner get there and it would start to rain again. Another day, perhaps. Then you could prepare another picnic and enjoy yourselves more comfortably.”
That seemed to mollify the sisters, and they agreed.
Ann clapped her hands and said, “Oh, yes—another picnic. I should love that would not you, Mr. Goodwin?”
Charlotte leaned in toward Beaumont and said, “Yes, please, you must let us show you the delights of Cranborne Chase. I just know you and your sister will adore its many charms.”
“Very well, why not? Eh?”
Priscilla had come back to the group by now but did not pay any attention to George, apparently feeling slighted.
“Then shall we go?” George asked, anxious to return to Grayson Manor.
“But I say,” Beaumont said, standing up, “Where is the charming Miss Lucy? Are we not to say good-bye to her?”
Her Grace became flustered at the mention of Lucy, as she was still smarting from George’s rebuke. And she could see that both of her daughters were distraught at Beaumont’s mention of Lucy. She stood, and indicated she wanted Ann to help her out.
“Come, my darling beauties. The picnic basket has already been loaded onto the carriage. I think we must depart before it decides to start raining again. I should hate to become mired in the mud on one of our nasty roads.”
Chapter 19
Lucy was now so often in attendance on her Grace that she barely had time to visit with Betsy anymore. They had been so close once, when they were younger, and had more leisure time to visit. But one afternoon Lucy ran into Betsy in the hallway and Betsy took hold of Lucy’s arm.
“Oh, my dear friend, it has been so long since we have visited together. Might you be free to come to my room for a visit? I should so love to spend some time with you.”
Lucy was for the moment free. Her Grace was napping, and it was too early to be expected in the kitchen to start the work on supper.
“I should love to. You catch me at a moment when I shall be able to accompany you.”
“Then come, dear Lucy.” And Betsy and Lucy ran to Betsy’s chambers.
They went to the window seat and sat opposite each other, leaning back against pillows along the alcove walls.
Betsy took hold of Lucy’s hands as they did in the old days when they would sit here for hours on end and dream about the future.
“What is this I hear? Are you planning to leave us for London?” Betsy asked apprehensively.
“It is possible,” Lucy said. “I must move on with my life.”
“But what about your writing? I thought you had sold some of your stories to that London publisher.”
“I did, but that was years ago. They were published in several periodicals, and I was paid, but then I started my novel, and I barely find time to work on it. And there is to be no money from it until it is finished—if even then. There is no guarantee it will be published.”
“But you are family. How can you leave us?” Betsy lamented.
“But dear Betsy… I am not of your family, as your mother so kindly reminds me all the time.”
“Oh, you must pay no attention to her—I know I never do. She has no idea what she is saying most of the time.”
“That is all very well for you to say, but remember I was taken into this family as an orphan and was lucky to remain, as your mother wanted to send me away to an orphanage.”
“And there is no young man waiting to snap you up?”
Lucy did not know how to answer that, because her heart, while not promised, was taken by the one person with whom she could never unite. So, she answered by just shaking her head.
“And you, Miss Betsy? Your mother despairs for you. She thinks you will never find a suitor with your attitude.”
Betsy sat back against the wall and laughed. “Oh, Lucy, I swear, Dorset must be the end of the earth when it comes to suitable gentlemen. The ones that come traipsing through our Sunday At Homes, are either ancient, boys still wet behind the ears, or young men so full of themselves as to be as empty as a bucket in a drought.”
Lucy laughed. It was good, she thought, to be with her dear friend again. Betsy was no longer the little girl she had shared her reading with. She had turned into a handsome young woman. While she was not a great beauty, she did have a solid handsomeness and could make someone a wonderful wife.
“Do you ever think you might never marry?” Lucy asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
Staring out the window for a moment or two Betsy finally said, “It does occur to me. I know my parents want me to be happy, but by their definition, the only way for a woman to be happy is to be married. And I am not willing to do that unless I meet just the perfect young man.”
Lucy lowered her head thoughtfully and then said, “Yes, I know what you mean. I have been alone for so long I feel I may always remain so. And that is why I feel I must move on. I need to find a new life where I am not so restricted. And if that means taking a job in London, then that is what I must do.”
Mother burst into the drawing room with a letter in her hand. “My darlings,” she began, “You can never guess…”
“What Mother?” Ann replied, impatient to be told the news outright.
“We have had an invitation to dinner at the Goodwins. And about time too, I might add. I was beginning to wonder if they had any manners at all.”
Both Ann and Charlotte perked up.
“Are we all invited?” Charlotte asked. “Even Father, George, and Betsy?”
“All of us. Quite true. Is that not marvelous?”
“Do we need new dresses?” Charlotte asked hopefully.
“No, my dear, I am quite certain you both have something quite suitable for a weeknight dinner out. It is not as if it was another ball. After all, we do not live in London where everyone is in such fierce competition. You will both look lovely in what you have.” Then she thought for a moment. “But I am not certain I have anything suitable.”
“And have you replied to the invitation?” Ann asked.
“I have. Just now. But it may take some convincing to get your father to come. He does hate dining out on a weeknight.”
“Then let him stay at home,” Charlotte said.
“Oh, no, that would never do. There must be several gentlemen present, or it will be like some horrid hen party.”
“But mother, then Beaumont will be able to focus his entire attention on a conversation with us,” said Ann. “I feel he is very close to choosing one of us.”
“And perhaps this dinner is to announce his intentions,” Charlotte spoke up hopefully and with great excitement.
“Oh, my dears, do you think so?” Mother asked in a fever of excitement.
“We had the most delightful conversations the day of the picnic. I think he might just do that. Remember, he said his father had instructed him to find a wife. I feel certain he is ready.”
“Oh, my—this is an exciting moment.”
“Must I go?” Betsy asked forlornly.
“Of course, you must.”
“But it will be such a bore with you three fawning all over the poor Mr. Goodwin and George, no doubt, fawning over Miss Priscilla?”
“Miss Priscilla? Has George expressed interest in her to you, Betsy?” Mother asked.
“No, but I could clearly see the day of the disastrous picnic that she was all gooey eyes at him. It was a pathetic display.”
“Really, how did I miss that?” Mother asked. “Oh, my, then that will make the evening even more important. I must have a word with George to find out his in
tentions. What possibilities!” she exclaimed clapping her hands.
There could be no thought of taking Lucy to the Goodwin’s dinner party. There must be absolutely no distraction from Ann and Charlotte. Judith had sent word to George that she wanted to see him.
She was seated in her sitting room when he came to her.
George spoke to her before she could speak to him. “Mother, I wanted to say the puppies you are interested in are now just over six weeks old, and if you are ready, I would be happy to take you to see them.”
This surprised her. “Oh, George, that is splendid. I should like that.” Then she had a thought. “But are they trained? I cannot have it piddling all over my chambers.”
George laughed. “Of course, they are not. They are only six weeks old. It will take several months to train a puppy that young.”
“Oh, dear. What am I to do? I know nothing about training a dog.”
“Perhaps one of the staff will know what to do,” George suggested.
“Oh, I know. I can get Lucy to do it. She was ever so good at caring for my poor Isabell. I am certain she can take care of all that for me.”
“Mother, Lucy might not be with us long enough to see the training through to the end.”
“Why ever not?” Mother asked in a panic.
“You know she has applied for a position as a lady’s companion in London.”
“Was she truly serious about that? I thought she was just trying to get more money.”
“Mother, you never paid her. What do you expect her to do?”
“How ungrateful—after all I have done for her.”
George laughed. “No, Mother, it is you who has been ungrateful. Lucy has been nothing but devoted and loyal to this family since we took her in. And yet you treat her like a servant. Ordering her about and subjecting her to endless humiliation.”
Judith stared at him, open-mouthed—unable to answer, but then said, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I never heard of such a thing. What ideas you have.”
George sighed, it was like talking to a wall. “Mother, you wanted to see me about something. What is it?”
Judith attempted to gather her dignity after her son’s berating and said, “We are invited to the Goodwin’s to dinner on Wednesday night, and I expect you and your father to come with us. After all, you have been paying some attention to Miss Priscilla. I want to know if you have any feelings for her. I have every expectation that Mr. Beaumont might ask one of your sisters for her hand in marriage, and I want to know if you might be similarly inclined toward Miss Priscilla.”
George appeared to be surprised by the question. “A proposal to Miss Priscilla? Whatever gave you that idea? We have been cordial to each other, but there is absolutely no intention on my part to ask Miss Priscilla for her hand in marriage. It is a quite preposterous idea.”
“And why ever is that? She is lovely, charming, and I understand, comes with a substantial living. And she is the daughter of a Lord. It seems like quite a suitable match, to me.”
“To you perhaps, but not to me. I agree she is charming and quite pleasing to the eyes, but I can assure you she is not the woman for me—however large her dowry might be.”
Judith was not to be deterred. “I want you to think about it. It is time for you to marry. If not her, then some other suitable young lady. And it should be soon. You do nothing but fritter away your aimless life. All that ridiculous painting. That is not what a future duke should be doing. And I can tell you I am going to have a word with your father about all this. It is time for you to grow up and take on your full responsibility.”
Lucy sought out George in his studio the afternoon of the Goodwin’s dinner.
“Here you are,” she said coming over to where he was working. “Oh, I like this one very much. I know that place. It is close to one of my favorite walks, and you capture the evening light so beautifully.”
“Thank you,” George said, smiling and turning to Lucy. I had painted this before but was not able to capture the light as I have with this one.”
“That is because you are becoming a master painter. You should be very proud.”
“Never proud. No matter how hard I try, I always fall short of what I see in my mind’s eye.”
Lucy turned from George and went to the window and stared outside. George studied her.
“Is there something you wanted to see me about?”
She turned back to him.
“Yes. I have received an offer of employment from Lady Harding.”
“Oh, I did not realize you might hear back so soon.”
“She wants me to start in a fortnight.”
Both Lucy and George stared at each other, as though each was expecting the other to say something significant. Finally, George asked, “And you are going to take the position?”
Lucy did not reply right away. Her heart was racing, and she kept hoping that George would say something to try and dissuade her from accepting the offer. But he did not.
“Why would I not? It is a most attractive offer, and I would be elevated from a part-time scullery maid to a full-fledged lady’s companion. And I believe I would be appreciated in ways I am not now.”
“Do you mean to say you still have not been offered a salary for the work you do?” George asked.
“Mrs. Mead managed to find me a small wage for my work in the kitchen, but your mother has not offered me even ha’pence.”
George hung his head in shame. “Oh Lucy, I am truly sorry. If I controlled the household purse, you should be well compensated. But I do not, and even though I have spoken to both my father and mother, it seems they disregard my suggestions.”
Lucy was aching with regret but had to say, “Then I must accept Lady Harding’s offer.”
George looked extremely pained. “Oh, Lucy…” It appeared to her he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned toward the window and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. And he said softly, “I do not know if I can stand being separated from you, my dearest Lucy.”
Lucy’s heart raced with anticipation. Might he have more to say?
Then he turned back to her. “I shall be truly sorry to see you leave us, but I certainly understand why you must.”
Lucy’s heart sank. He had accepted her leaving. She had no choice now. She must accept the offer and move to London.
Chapter 20
Never in the Grayson family were so many hearts filled with hope as the carriage headed toward Brookdale Estate. That is with the exception of Matthew, George, and Betsy. Matthew hated dressing up and going out for dinner. Betsy saw no reason whatsoever why she should attend as there would not be anyone of interest for her to meet. And George was despondent over Lucy’s news of her leaving Grayson Manor.
George was also plagued by his mother and father’s insistence that he should marry soon. He regretfully realized that the only woman who could truly claim his heart was Lucy—but an alliance with her was an impossibility. As the carriage rumbled its way toward Brookdale, George struggled in his mind with what his options were. Fact: he did need to get married relatively soon. Fact: he had met no one else in all of Dorset that caught his attention, let alone his heart. Fact: Priscilla was just about the only lady he had met that came anywhere close to meeting his parents’ requirements for a suitable bride and who he found at least a little attractive. She was from a good family and brought with her a substantial living, which would delight his parents no end. Therefore, he decided that he must use this evening to more genuinely acquaint himself with Priscilla and see if there might be any possibility of an attachment.
The two eldest sisters were already nervously fanning themselves in anticipation of a significant evening. Each thought they would be the one asked to accept Beaumont’s hand in marriage.
The carriage arrived at Brookdale, and the family was greeted by the butler who helped them out of the carriage and led them into the large sitting room where Beaumont, Priscilla, and their mother w
ere already seated by the fireplace.
Beaumont stood as they entered. “Good evening, Your Graces, and ladies. George, welcome, old man. Might I introduce you to my mother who was absent at the picnic the other day? Lady Goodwin, The Duke and Duchess of Sutherland and their charming children.”
“So pleased,” Lady Goodwin responded.
She was a matronly lady in her fifties, with a wig that was just slightly askew, giving her a somewhat drunken appearance. But in all other ways, she seemed to be a pleasant lady.
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