Ann and Charlotte jockeyed for a prime seat near Beaumont, and they fell quickly into conversation with him.
George approached Miss Priscilla who was seated near the fireplace working on a piece of embroidery. She looked up as he approached but did not greet him. He realized she was still cold to him after he brushed her off at the picnic.
“Miss Priscilla, how lovely to see you again. I fear you might have taken my last visit here as an affront. But let me say in my own defense that I was distracted by my work awaiting me and I must apologize for acting ungentlemanly toward you.”
Priscilla’s eyes immediately lit up as she put down her work. “Oh, Mr. George, I am most grateful for your apology as I did, indeed, take your behavior toward me as an affront.”
“Then I hope I may make it up to you this evening. I trust we might be seated at the table near each other so that we may converse more fully.” But he felt his heart sink even as he uttered those words and thought of his dear friend, Lucy.
“I shall make certain that we do.”
George sat next to her, and they conversed until dinner was called.
As they headed toward the dining room, both Ann and Charlotte rested their hands on top of Beaumont’s outstretched arms as he led the way. George similarly offered his arm to Miss Priscilla.
The dinner was characterized by the usual, polite and non-confrontational conversation. Beaumont tried to converse with the whole assembly but was repeatedly drawn back into intimate conversations with Ann and Charlotte who were to his left and right.
Her Ladyship conversed most cordially with her Grace, and Matthew mostly focused on his soup, fish, and game courses as no one seemed interested in his views on anything.
Priscilla was animated as she spoke with George, leaning toward him from time to time and brushing his arm with her hand. Her eyes were sparkling, and her laugh was light and breezy. But George was in a state of misery. He was determined to be friendly, intimate, and encouraging but, for all of his willing it, he could not enter into a heartfelt communication.
By the time the dinner was winding down, and it was time for the ladies to retire, her Grace passed by her husband and whispered, “Be prepared for Beaumont to ask for the hand in marriage of one of our daughters. Signal to me when the gentlemen return to the sitting room.”
He nodded and picked up a cigar as one of the footmen offered him one.
The ladies were uniquely silent as they awaited the return of the men, even though her Ladyship attempted to engage them in conversation. The sisters were as sober and silent as sour-faced clergymen. Mother nervously played with her fan, Betsy yawned, and Priscilla returned to her embroidery.
Finally, the men returned, and Judith looked up at her husband expectantly. But he caught her gaze and subtly shook his head. This gesture was not lost on Ann or Charlotte either, and they looked at each other with stricken-looking faces.
The gentlemen sat down, coffee was served, and conversation was light and superficial.
Ann turned to her mother and said, “Mother, I fear I am developing a bit of a headache. Do you think we might be able to leave shortly?”
Everyone had their reason for wanting to escape, and it was agreed it was time to go. Good-byes were brief, and the Graysons fled to the carriage where silence reigned all the way back to Grayson Manor.
Lucy had escaped to the nursery to visit with Mrs. Wilkes who was rarely included in any of the family gatherings. Lucy had such fond memories of her years of education, and they were reminiscing when Stevens came to the nursery door.
“Ah, here you are, Miss Lucy. I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“Oh, Stevens, I am sorry. How can I assist you?”
The butler had a peculiar expression. “Miss, a strange gentleman has appeared enquiring after you.”
Lucy was surprised. Her first thought was that it was Isabell’s husband, and something might have happened to Isabell or Chrissy, but she immediately dismissed that thought, as Stevens would undoubtedly know that family and would not characterize Isabell’s husband as a stranger.
“Did he say what he wanted of me?”
“No, Miss, but he insisted it was very important and requested to see you privately.”
“Oh, my,” Lucy said, suddenly becoming anxious. “Then where is he?”
“I put him in the servant’s dining room. I thought you might be most comfortable meeting there.”
“Thank you, Stevens. Then I shall go and see what he wants.”
Lucy followed Stevens down to the kitchen and all the way she racked her mind to think what stranger might be asking for her, but she could come up with no answer. She headed to the dining room and entered, finding no one other than the unknown gentleman.
“I am Lucy Brighton, you asked for me?” Lucy said, standing straight and ready to find out whom this man was.
The man turned to her. He was a comely, dark-haired young man—perhaps only a few years older than herself, but he was well dressed and presented a most pleasing appearance.
“Are you the Lucy Brighton of the tenant farmer Brightons?”
“I am.”
“And your father was Hugh, and your mother was Katherine?”
Lucy had a strange feeling come over her. She could not put her finger on what was happening, but she felt it was significant.
“They were. And you are?” she asked.
The man hesitated, and she detected tears appearing in his eyes.
“I am your brother, Harold.”
Lucy’s mind seemed frozen. She could not comprehend what he had just said to her. Her brother, Harold, had been lost in the fire. Then who else could this man be, and why did he come to see her?
“My brother was killed years ago in a fire. Who are you really?” She was becoming agitated.
“No, truly, I am your brother.” He rolled up his left sleeve and presented her with a scar on his arm. “Do you remember this? We were playing in a tree and I fell and ripped my arm open on a branch. You had to wrap your petticoat around my arm to help staunch the bleeding.”
Lucy was filled with a rush of recognition and rushed over and threw her arms around her brother.
“Oh, my darling, brother. I was certain you were lost. How ever did you survive?”
“It is a long story, and we have a lot to relate to each other. I want to hear your story as I am certain you want to hear mine. But might I ask if I might have a bite to eat? I have been traveling from London and then around the countryside seeking to find you. I had a feeling you were still alive and was determined to find you.”
They burst into tears as they held each other and he dotted her face with kisses.
Mrs. Mead came into the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is going on in here? Are you all right Miss Lucy?”
Lucy turned to her. “Oh, Mrs. Mead, you can never guess. I have found my brother, Harold. I thought I had lost him in the fire.”
Mrs. Mead brought her apron to her face, covering her mouth with it as she cried out, “God be praised! It surely is a miracle.”
“Yes, Mrs. Mead it surely is,” Lucy said, laughing now instead of crying, and grasping her brother’s hand and pulling him to her.
She could not wait to hear his story and share hers, but first, she asked, “My brother has not eaten in a spell. Might he have some soup and a piece of bread?”
“Good heavens, child, he may have more than that. Sit ye down, and I shall bring you some roast chicken, a bowl of bean soup, a slice of bread and some of me own special apple pie. How does that sound?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mead. It sounds like a feast to me,” Harold said.
After he was served, Harold ate with gusto and Lucy sat opposite just gazing at her brother’s face. Lucy did not speak, as she was still so filled with volatile emotion, and felt on the verge of tears if she could not settle herself.
“Brother, do you have any luggage?” she asked trying to become practical.
“I do.” He tu
rned and pointed to a valise at the side of the room. “It is not all of my possessions, but I thought to travel light until I found you.”
“And do you have a place to stay?”
“I was thinking of taking a room in Chiseldon above the King’s Arms Pub.”
“Oh, no, that is a horrid accommodation. You must stay here. Let me speak to Stevens and see what can be arranged.”
“I should like to be close to you. If you think it would not be an inconvenience to the family, I shall accept.”
“Let me speak to George. I am certain he will welcome you with open arms.”
“And he is?” Harold asked.
“Do you not remember? He is the son of the Duke. We are good friends and I know he will agree.”
Harold stopped eating and took Lucy’s hands. “Oh, sister, you have no idea how happy I am for this moment.”
“Certainly not more happy than I am.”
Chapter 21
Right after Harold finished eating, Lucy took him by the hand and led him to George’s studio, but before entering, she knocked and entered by herself.
“Why knock, Lucy? You know that is not necessary,” George said as he faced the painting he was working on.”
“Ordinarily I would not, but this is a special occasion,” she said with a broad smile.
George turned to look at her. “Oh, and what might that be?”
“I have someone special I would like you to meet.”
George’s expression hardened. “Someone special? Is it a new beau?”
Lucy laughed. “Not at all, but let me bring him in, if I may?”
“Of course.”
Lucy went to retrieve her brother, and they came into the studio hand in hand. George scowled when he saw them together.
“Mr. George, this is my brother, Harold, who I thought was lost in the fire those many years ago.”
Then George broke into a smile. “Truly, your brother?”
“The very same. He has been searching for me and we only just met again for the first time in—how many years?”
“Sixteen,” Harold answered, squeezing his sister’s arm affectionately.
“I was only ten back then,” George said. “And, I must say, I do not remember any of your family from that time.”
“I have come to ask you if my brother might stay at Grayson? He was thinking of staying at the King’s Arms, but I should so grateful if we might be able to spend some time together catching up. I would still perform my duties, of course. But every moment we can spend together would be precious.”
George seemed to be amazed by this development and asked, “How did you find her again. How did you escape the fire?”
Lucy turned to her brother and said, “We have not had time to explore all of that yet. He has only just arrived. I wanted to ask you first about his staying here. I thought it best to ask you rather than your mother or father.”
“And rightly so,” George said, putting his paintbrush into a jar of turps. “Come—let us go back to the house. I feel certain the whole family would be intrigued to hear this amazing story.” He turned to Harold. “I will fix you up with a room, and then you shall join us for dinner and an evening of adventurous tales. Let us make this a special occasion.”
Lucy hesitated. “I am not sure her Grace would approve having us to dinner. You know it would be my first time at the family table.”
George laughed. “Then she shall just have to get used to it, for I will insist it happens.”
After Harold was settled into his room in the servant’s quarters—as Stevens thought was proper—Lucy could barely tear herself away, and continued to hold on to her brother’s arm, as though afraid if she let go she might lose him again.
Stevens appeared once again at the doorway and said, “Miss Lucy, her Grace has been asking for you again.”
Lucy was flustered but acquiesced. “Of course.” She turned to Harold. “I really must go. But I shall see you again before dinner. And by any chance do you have any dress clothes suitable for dinner?”
“I do,” he said with a smile. “I can dress up to be a real gentleman.”
“Then until later, dear brother.”
As she was scurrying to join the Duchess, it suddenly struck her—what about the offer of employment from Lady Harding? She had not yet replied to accept the offer. But how could she possibly accept now when her future seemed so uncertain after being reunited with her brother? The right thing to do was to wait—hear her brother’s story and see what his plans were. Could they be a family again? Would he remain in Dorset? Would he want her to move to where he was? Far too many unknown circumstances needed to be revealed and explored. She took a breath and entered the Duchess’s chamber.
“Ah, finally,” Her Grace said with a note of irritation. “Where have you been?”
“Unexpectedly detained.” She did not want to tell about her brother just yet. Everything would be revealed at dinner this evening. “Did you want your drops, Your Grace?” Lucy asked.
“No. It is not about that. Come sit with me.” Lucy went over and took a chair across from her. “George has offered to help me select another dog—a puppy—and I want you to train it.”
“I am happy for you. I know how much you miss Isabell, but Your Grace, I know nothing about training a dog.”
“You do not? How tiresome. Of what use are you to me then?”
Lucy was tempted to tell her Grace that she was planning to accept a new position and then the Duchess would find out what use Lucy had been to her. But this was not the time.
Lucy said, “But I should be happy to enquire amongst the staff to see who might be able to assist you.”
“Humph. I guess that will have to do. Now, will you rub my temples with some eau de cologne? I feel a headache coming on.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Word of the latest development had spread throughout Grayson Manor within an hour of George announcing that this evening was to be a special dinner. The servant’s grapevine was most effective at spreading breaking news. And everyone, including the Duke and Duchess, was most anxious to attend what might prove to be a most entertaining evening. Even Ann and Charlotte were sufficiently diverted from their disappointment at not being asked to marry Beaumont to be dressed and ready for dinner long before it was time to go down.
“I hear we are to have a special guest,” Charlotte said to Ann as they were heading down to the drawing room before dinner. “Might it possibly be a new suitor?” she speculated.
Ann was bored and fanned herself nonchalantly as they headed down the staircase. “It would seem unlikely. Otherwise, Mother would have announced it and been fussing all over us to be presentable.”
Charlotte sighed. “You are most likely right.”
Betsy came trailing after them, stretching her arms in the air to relieve a kink in her back—most unladylike.
As they entered the drawing room, they saw George standing by the fireplace talking to an unknown gentleman—and a very handsome gentleman—all the daughters thought to themselves. And most surprising—Lucy was standing next to him.
Mother and Father were also present. Father was consulting his watch, and Mother was seated, brushing down her dress, and seemingly waiting for something to happen.
When the daughters entered, Father looked up and said. “Ah, and might we go to dinner now? I am not accustomed to eating this late. George, will you please explain to us what this is all about? Who is this gentleman?”
George turned to his assembled family and said, “Miss Lucy has had a great surprise today. Her darling brother, Harold, whom she thought was lost in the fire that made her an orphan, has sought her out, and, as you can see, is very much alive.” The family members registered looks of surprise but did not respond verbally. “And I suggested he narrate his adventures to us this evening after dinner. He has been lost for sixteen years, and I imagine he will have quite an interesting tale to tell.”
“And we are
to eat dinner all of us together?” Her Grace asked with some astonishment.
“Of course, if he is to entertain us with his story, the least we can do is welcome him at our table?”
“But Lucy…” Her Grace started to say but was stopped when George raised his hand and announced.
“It is time to realize that Miss Lucy has been a part of this family for many years. She deserves to be treated as one of us—at least for this evening. Can we all agree upon that?”
Ann looked askance and began to fan herself rapidly. Betsy beamed, and her Grace pursed her lips and twitched her head.
The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess_A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 16