Lucy wanted to get on with this. “And what is it that you want to talk to me about, Mr. Beaumont?”
He settled into himself for a moment before speaking. “Miss Lucy, it cannot have escaped your notice that I have a deep and abiding interest in you. From the moment I caught a glimpse of you at the ball, I was enchanted. But there could never be the possibility of us meeting as equals—I the son of a Lord and you the daughter of field hands. My family would never allow such a match.”
The ugly truth of her parentage reared its head once again.
She interrupted him. “But I am still the daughter of tenant farmers.” She could not help but resent his attitude.
“But that has changed. Your brother is educated, respectable, and wealthy. He has become a gentleman. And, while he may not have a title, his elevated position takes you along with him. Now I can truly consider marrying you. Might I consider us now a courting couple?” He sat back as though what he said was obvious and seemed to be surprised that she did not immediately warm to his regard.
Lucy could barely contain her anger at his smugness and condescension. “Sir, while I can see that you believe you have bestowed on me a great honor, I, however, must respectfully decline your generous offer. I have no interest or intention of considering marriage at this time. I have only just been freed from a life of servitude, and I intend to use this time to resume the work on my novel. It is my wish to become a widely published author, and I do not wish to interrupt my progress by marrying.”
She looked at him sternly, but he only smiled.
“Of course, I understand. This has all been so sudden. You have not had the opportunity yet to contemplate the great honor I am according you to my offer. But I am patient and, nothing, if not persistent.”
“But I thought you were courting Ann and Charlotte. They are under the impression that you are to ask one of them to marry you at any moment.”
Beaumont burst out laughing. “Oh, no. I am afraid they delude themselves about that. Charlotte is fair enough, but Ann has a certain Lady Macbeth quality that truly puts one off.”
Lucy could not help but smile at that analogy. “But they have substantial livings attached to their betrothal. Is that not an enticement?”
“Do you mean to say that you do not as well? It has been rumored that your brother has granted you a substantial dowry. Is that not so?”
Lucy demurred. She was not about to give Beaumont any encouragement. There was no doubt where her heart was attached. And the promise of a walk with George later this afternoon might further her hopes.
“Mr. Goodwin, I am sorry if I have disappointed your expectations, but let me be clear. I am not open to your overtures and do not expect that to change no matter how persistent or patient you are. So, I suggest you change your plan and look elsewhere.” She felt she was very clear and very firm.
Again, he just smiled. “Miss Lucy, I thank you for your honesty. It becomes you. But I am not one to give up so easily.”
He stood up, bowed, and went to secure some tea and a plate of tea cakes.
Lucy looked for George, but he was occupied with Miss Priscilla. He seemed engrossed in a conversation with her and was smiling and laughing. However, the rest of the room was less settled. As Mr. Goodwin was being served tea, Charlotte and Ann were in a heated conference with the Duchess and, as they talked, they kept glancing over at Priscilla and George or at Mr. Goodwin. It did not take a stretch of the imagination for Lucy to guess what those three ladies were talking about.
Just at that moment, the Duke and Harold came into the room, back from their trip to town. Betsy’s face lit up, and she waved to Harold who went to join her. The Duke went to his wife and daughters and appeared to be drawn into their heated conversation. Lucy took a deep breath. Everything was moving so quickly, and it appeared that the tranquility of Grayson Manor was not soon to be restored.
Lucy and George did not get their walk by the river. As soon as Beaumont and Miss Priscilla made their exit, the Duchess demanded that the family meet in a closed session. And that most definitely did not include Lucy or Harold.
Matthew was seated at his desk in his study. The Duchess was so wrought up she stood next to her husband facing the children. George lounged by the fireplace while the three daughters were seated in chairs before their father’s desk.
“What was that? What was THAT?” Her Grace demanded to know. “Mr. Goodwin took Lucy aside for an extended conversation. What was that all about?” she asked again as if someone might be privy to Mr. Beaumont’s thoughts. She then turned her attention to Betsy. “And Mr. Harold? Betsy, what exactly is going on there with you two? Are you courting?”
Betsy blushed and stammered, “I… I… we… I do not know. He… I…”
The Duchess turned to her husband. “Did you know about this?”
“No, my dear. My relationship with Mr. Brighton is strictly professional. He is an excellent manager and an invaluable colleague. And I know him to be of sterling character. That is the extent of my knowledge. I leave the intricacies of romance to you ladies.”
“But husband, can you possibly countenance a union between Mr. Harold and our Betsy? He is the son of a tenant.”
“But my dear, he is educated, connected, and with a substantial fortune. Do you mean to say you would let a minor accident of birth prevent a union with such a gentleman?”
Her Grace looked horrified. “Accident of birth? Remember your accident of birth. Do you mean to say you would diminish your proud heritage with the addition to your line of a farmer?”
This subject directly affected George’s relationship with Lucy, and he stepped forward and spoke up, “I might remind you mother that despite our title, our family’s roots go back generations as farmers. It is an honorable profession and one which King Richard chose to recognize when he made our line a noble one.”
Ann had been agitated during this discussion and could hold back no longer. “What does this have to do with anything? What about us? We have had expectations that Mr. Beaumont would soon ask one of us to marry him. But he has just disgraced himself by lavishing his attention on that Lucy person. What is to be done about that?”
Then Charlotte began to speak at the same time as Betsy, Ann, and George. No one could understand what anyone was saying.
Finally, Matthew raised a paperweight and pounded it on the desk and then stood up. “Stop! Stop all of this clatter at once. This turmoil is getting us nowhere. You are behaving like petulant infants.”
Her Grace clasped her hands together in front of her, lowered her head, and frowned, casting her angry gaze over all her children. “Matthew—children, we have a crisis that needs to be addressed and solved. It is no good shouting at each other. We must get to the bottom of this turmoil and sort it out.”
Matthew sighed and sat down in his chair. He turned to his son. “George, you seem to have the coolest head amongst us. What is your take on all of this? How do you see these issues being resolved?”
“I think we need to take one issue at a time. First, Betsy.” He turned to her. “You recently let me know that you have romantic feelings for Mr. Harold and that he might hold the same for you. Is that correct?”
She blushed again. “Yes.”
“And Father, you said Harold is an honorable and upright gentleman, and you would accept him as a possible match for Betsy. Is that so?” His father gave a slight nod of his head. “Then you, as head of this family, should be the final authority on the suitability of the Brightons as possible matches for this family.”
Her Grace was not about to just accept that. “This is untenable,” she insisted.
“Mother, we already know your position. But if we do not accept a final authority, then we shall go around and around on these matters ad infinitum.”
Matthew roused himself, “Yes, Son, I agree. Let us settle this and be done with it. This whole mess is making me weary.”
George spoke up again. “Good. That is decided. Then it i
s agreed that Harold and Lucy are considered suitable matches for this family.”
Ann stood up and scowled. “Lucy? Suitable? I think not. She was but a lowly servant a few days ago. And now you say she is suitable for this family? What? Are you thinking of marrying her?”
George smiled and said. “And if I did, would that not take her out of the picture with Mr. Goodwin?”
Ann and Charlotte looked at one another and smiled. “What a brilliant solution,” Ann said. “Would you do that?”
“I would, and I am announcing right now that I have had feelings for Miss Lucy ever since I can remember and was only restrained by the thought of the family’s disapproval. So, let it be known that I intend to ask Miss Lucy for her hand in marriage. And I want your blessings.”
Chapter 27
George was excited to meet with Lucy and ask her to marry him. However, he wanted the setting to be just perfect and the moment to be memorable. The first thing he wanted to do was to find his paternal grandmother’s engagement ring. It had been given to him by his father for his future bride when he had turned of age. At the time, he had no use for it and put it somewhere safe. So safe he had forgotten where he had put it.
He rummaged through the drawers of his dresser. He looked in a box of keepsakes he had collected as a boy and smiled when he found the ribbon Lucy had given him when he had done splendidly on an exam Mrs. Wilkes had made him take. He had done so well; Lucy drew first place on a hair ribbon, tied the ends together, and placed it around his neck.
But he could find the ring nowhere. Then he remembered. He went to his armoire and rummaged through his suits until he came to his very best, formal suit. The one he never wore. He had remembered putting the ring in the waistcoat pocket thinking he would only ever wear that suit if he were going to ask that special lady to marry him.
“I guess today is the day to wear the suit,” he said aloud to himself.
It was just after breakfast, the day after the family meeting, and he had planned to take Lucy in the carriage later that afternoon to her favorite spot—the setting for the landscape painting she so admired. He would take a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne and just as the sun began to set—creating the image from the painting—he would ask her to marry him.
In some ways, he wanted to do that right now. He wanted to run up to her room, burst in and shout out, “Will you please marry me, Lucy Brighton?”
But he was so enjoying the anticipation of asking her to marry him that he held back and chose the location that would please her the most.
George was too restless to try painting this morning, so he went to his studio and began to sort through his paintings, selecting those he wanted to send to the gallery in London. He stacked the chosen ones against a wall and planned to start wrapping each one when he heard shouting coming from outside. At first, he thought nothing of it but, when he looked out of the studio window, he was surprised to see Harold shouting and riding at a furious pace toward the house.
Harold rode right up to the back of the house, pulled the horse up short, and jumped off, before running to the kitchen door and going inside. George, sensing that something was amiss, left his studio and ran over to the same door and went inside.
He saw Harold gesticulating wildly as he talked to Stevens. George went over, and when both Harold and Stevens turned to him, he could see from their expressions that something grave had happened.
“What is it?” George asked in a hollow voice.
Harold with an ashen face said, “It is your father, George. There has been a terrible accident, and I am afraid he is dead.”
George was too shocked at the moment to ask how his father had died.
“Your Grace,” Stevens said, bowing his head. “I shall make arrangements while you and Mr. Harold depart to recover the body. And when you return, I am certain you will want me to collect the family together so that you may speak to them.”
Your Grace. The realization that he was now the Duke struck him like a physical blow. “Yes, Stevens. Please call the family together, but do not tell them why just yet. I would like to announce it myself. I believe it will be best for everyone if they can hear it from me at the same time. We need to be there for each other.”
And, as George was leaving with Harold, he realized, with a sinking heart, he would not be able to ask Lucy to marry him today.
Stevens had quietly gathered the family together in the drawing room. Flossy was administering a dose of drops to her Grace, and the daughters were casually chatting amongst themselves. Lucy had also been called, but she sat apart from the rest.
“What is this all about?” Betsy asked, pulling at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Is this yet another boring family meeting to scold us for something or another?”
“Are we at least to have some tea?” Charlotte finally asked, looking over at the sideboard.
The drawing room door opened, and George and Harold came in, both looking grave. George stepped forward, and holding his hands together in front of him, said quietly, “I need you to prepare yourselves. I have some terrible news.”
He immediately had everyone’s attention. He gave them a moment to brace themselves, then said, “I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but Father has been killed in an accident.”
Judith brought both of her hands to her mouth to cover a gasp. Betsy burst into tears, and the two other sisters were frozen with their mouths open as if trying to say something, but unable to.
“Harold and I have just returned with the body, and we have Father laid out on his bed. Stevens has called for the doctor to make a determination of death.”
He went over to his mother and put his hand on her shoulder. She leaned forward and let out a heartbreaking cry of sorrow, covering her face with her hands.
“How did it happen?” Ann asked hoarsely.
George turned to Harold. “Harold was with him. I will let him tell you.”
He nodded to Harold who stepped forward. He looked to be having a difficult time preparing to speak. He held the brim of his hat with both hands and nervously turned it clockwise.
“His Grace and I were riding out together. There had been reports that one of the sheep may have been attacked by some roaming dogs. We were going out to investigate. On the way, we needed to cross over a stone wall. We pulled the horses up, and I said I wanted to go out of the way to where there was a gate. I planned to dismount and take the horses through that way. But the Duke wanted to just jump the wall and head more directly to where we believed the sheep to be.”
Everyone was riveted by Harold’s narration.
“His Grace disregarded my suggestion and spurred his horse, heading for the wall at a hard gallop. I thought the Duke must know his horse could make the jump. But I held back and waited to see if he made the leap successfully. I was new to my horse, so I did not want to try the jump myself.
“As his horse neared the wall, she suddenly pulled up, and his Grace catapulted forward and flew off the horse, striking the base of the wall head first. I dismounted and rushed over to him. But it appeared he had broken his neck and was dead. However, I can say that he did not suffer. His death was instantaneous. I am so very sorry. I wish there were something I could have done, but it was sudden and unexpected.”
When he finished, Harold stepped back, allowing George to take over.
“Might we see him?” Betsy asked between sobs.
“If you wish. He looks quite peaceful.” He turned to his mother. “Mother, I am not certain what happens after the doctor leaves. Of course, we shall bury him in the family cemetery, and I shall make burial service arrangements with the Vicar. But I have no idea how the body is prepared or how we go about constructing a casket. Or even if we need to have some sort of a public viewing. I have never been called upon to consider these matters before.”
Mother looked up at him. “Oh, my son, I have no idea, and I am much too agitated to give thought to anything other than your father at this time.”
“Perhaps Stevens would know. Or some other of the staff,” Ann suggested.
Lucy stood. “I know what needs to be done,” she said quietly.
The family turned to her. George extended his hand for her to come over which she did.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“My friend, Isabell, is often called upon to assist in preparing a body within the community. I am certain she would be able to help. Would you like me to ask her?”
George turned to the daughters who nodded. But then Ann stood and spoke up. “I should like to go with you, Lucy. I might be able to assist in some way.”
“Then we can leave at your convenience. I shall go and get my wrap,” Lucy said.
The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess_A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 20