Anna Hoskins had the kind of face that one looks at and thinks, “lovely girl,” and then immediately dismisses. Not because she is not beautiful, but because it is the kind of quiet beauty that is enhanced by a vibrant personality. With Anna, her fires were banked and smoldered deeply—not prone to flashes of flames. But when she was excited, her face radiated fire and light that was unmatched by anyone who was not her equal in intelligence, humor, and goodwill.
Dorothy, Anna’s younger sister, however, was considered the great beauty of the family with her blonde curls, round pixy face, and large expressive eyes. Anna was darker, taller, and her features were strong and almost masculine. But she was every inch a fine woman.
Anna and Dorothy were the daughters of Frederick Hoskins, the Viscount Repington—their mother was deceased. The Viscount was one of the current directors of the East India Company and was abroad in India at least six months out of the year, so the two sisters relied almost exclusively upon each other.
Anna was at her desk in the library where she often spent her time with her beloved books on architecture—both classical and modern. And, when she was not reading, she was drawing, drafting plans and elevations, or creating elaborate structural details in ink sketches.
Dorothy burst into the room wearing a yellow summer dress, carrying an armful of flowers “Just look,” she exclaimed, “Are they not lovely? I really do believe this has been the best summer of all for my flower garden. Where shall I put these? Would you like some for your room? Or in here? I have so very many.”
Anna laughed. “They are, indeed, lovely. But keep them for the dining room and perhaps the drawing room where we can see them together to brighten our evenings. Too bad Papa is not here to enjoy them with us.”
“Any letters from him today?” Dorothy asked.
“I am afraid not, dear. He writes so seldom. And India is so very far away. The mail is so slow Papa sometimes arrives home even before his letters do.”
“Well, I shall take your suggestion,” Dorothy said, “and have Warrick distribute these flowers between the dining and drawing rooms. They shall be so lovely and will brighten both rooms.”
She turned to leave but stopped and asked, “Have you seen Percy recently?”
Anna blushed, and said, “No, he has not stopped by in quite some time. I think he only stops by when he is riding this way and wants some tea.”
“Surely not. He comes to see you, is that not so?”
Anna shook her head. “I believe he has his heart set on our dear friend, Maria—although she denies it.”
“Nonsense, I feel certain it is you he delights in.”
“Now that is what is nonsense,” Anna insisted.
Dorothy dashed over to where Anna was working. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I am copying out a Greek temple,” Anna replied.
“Why do you do these things? Whatever for? You are never going to build anything. It is quite useless. Women are not architects or builders. You should be studying the pianoforte or drawing. Something useful that will attract Percy more than your endless drawings of buildings, old temples, and floor plans.”
“My dear, I do not know how you can berate me with you, on your hands and knees, digging around in your garden? Who is that going to attract? You know Papa has high hopes for an advantageous marriage for you.”
Dorothy danced around the room, playing at throwing flowers at suitors. “Yes, he wants to take me to London for the season when he returns from Inja. Thinks it is so-o-o easy to find a suitable husband. He sees it like shopping. One store sells brides and another store sells grooms.”
Anna laughed. “Ah, that it were so easy. But I have to say, I am not in that great of a rush to be married. I like my freedom.”
Dorothy danced back to Anna and bent over her. “Unless Mr. Percy Garvey was to dance your way.”
Now Anna blushed, as that was what she secretly desired. “Oh, Dorothy, there is never an opportunity for us to dance. No one has given a ball or even an evening dance for ages. Has there even been one this year? I think not.”
“Then perhaps we should give one,” Dorothy suggested.
Anna took charge, as the eldest sister, and said, “Not without father present. You know we cannot.”
“But when he comes home then?” Dorothy asked hopefully.
“We will ask him then.”
“But when will he return? It seems he has been gone forever!”
Anna sighed as she stood and placed her watercolor brush in a glass of water to soak. “One never knows with Father. He comes and goes as he must for the good of the company.”
Dorothy went to one of the large library windows and gazed wistfully over the rolling hills outside and mused, “I do miss Mother. She would have been so good at directing us to find suitable young men to court us.”
“I miss her too.”
Dorothy wheeled around and said, “I must get these flowers in water or they will wilt away like I feel I am doing these lazy summer afternoons.”
“And which young gentleman would you wish to court you?” Anna asked.
“Why, His Lordship the Earl of Creassey, of course.”
Anna laughed, “But he is like our brother. We have known him and Maria forever.”
“Nonetheless, it is he who I should choose for my first dance partner—and perhaps my last,” she said and then danced out of the room.
Arnold Garvey, the Duke of Crauford paced his study as his property manager, Dirk Cooper, stood before him. The Duke waved a sheaf of papers in his hand. “This is totally unacceptable. Each month the total amount of collected rents continues to fall. Why is this? Are we losing tenants or are they not paying?”
“I am sorry to say, Your Grace, that these be hard times for the folks in Marlborough. A lot of the men be out of work due to the work on the canal being completed. Most workers laid off. There be no new jobs at present, and the womenfolk try to take up the slack by taking in gentlefolk’s washing, but there just not be enough to go around.”
“Then throw those who do not pay out! I will not have slackers in my buildings. The income to run this estate comes from rents. No rents—no income and we all suffer.”
“But Your Grace, these folks…”
“I do not care. I have my own troubles. I have mortgaged the estate up to the hilt and I have no wiggle room. I have a lazy, no good son and heir who thinks the world owes him a living and all he does is spend, spend, and spend. Damn the lazy lout.”
Arnold Garvey was as unlike his handsome son, Percy, as possible. Even though Arnold was not that old—not much more than fifty-years-of age—he had hard cold eyes, a roughly lined face, and walked with a limp from a fall off his horse while hunting in his youth. It seemed to sour him for the rest of his life, and he only became meaner and meaner with time.
“Then what would you have me do?” Dirk asked.
“Toss everyone who cannot pay onto the street. I have been thinking of tearing down those slums in any case. There are so many new opportunities these days I might, for example, partner with an industrialist to build a cotton mill on that prime land. Put the land to better use. Cotton is becoming king and it might solve all of my problems.”
“But the workers will need places to live, Your Grace, might you not consider that as well?”
“Hmm. Not a bad point.” Arnold threw the papers on his desk and stared at his manager. “But there will need to be a mill before there can be workers. I am up to Marlborough next week to see what I can arrange. Damn debt is driving me crazy. For now, do as I say. They pay up or out they go.”
“Your Grace,” Dirk said, touching his forehead in a salute. “Until next month then.” He turned and left the study, passing Percy, who was entering, as he left.
“There you are. Where have you been?” the Duke asked.
“Fishing with Harry,” Percy said. He leisurely strolled around his father’s study examining the family portraits.
“What am
I to do with you? You do nothing of value for this family. Your mother despairs, I am aghast at your laziness. You are either going to have to get a job or find a wife with money. I cannot continue to support your idle lifestyle.”
Percy turned to his father leisurely and asked, “But what about the estate? Do we not have income from it? Certainly, with all this land and as the Duke of Crauford you must be at the top of the heap, no?”
Arnold threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you we are in debt? Our income is faltering and we must find new sources of income to survive.”
“But you have all that property in Marlborough. Certainly that must bring us a nice living.”
“If you ever paid any attention to what I told you, you would know that is no longer sufficient. Damn, boy, you must do something for this family or, I swear, I shall toss you out without a penny, and you can go and grub for yourself and see how the real world operates.”
“Oh, father dear, how you do exaggerate.”
“Just try me,” Arnold said slapping his hand on his desk.
“Very well then, perhaps I shall travel to London and scout around for a bride. There must be any number of available young ladies with substantial livings who would jump at the chance to marry the heir apparent to a Dukedom.”
“Land. You must find one with money but also land. That is what counts the most. Knowing you, you would run through a dowry in short order, but land can bring a steady income if properly handled.”
“Then why is our land not doing that?” Percy insisted.
Arnold was embarrassed and turned away. “Because your grandfather gambled and either sold or mortgaged much of our land. All we have that brings in any income are our properties in Marlborough. Unless you want to work what little land we have left and make something of that?”
“Like what?”
“Sheep. Cattle like Harry does. Grains, produce, any damn thing.”
“Me? Work the land? Are you crazy? I am to be a duke. I do not work.”
“Then you must marry money and soon. Am I understood?”
“Oh, Father… really.”
Chapter 3
Anna had not visited with her good friend, Maria, for ages. As it was a pleasant sunny day with innocuous white fluffy clouds that did not portend rain, she decided to take a leisurely walk to Creassey Manor to visit Maria unannounced. She set out at a good pace to enjoy her afternoon with a light heart.
Maria and Harry ran the Creassey Estate together. He managed all the business end of things, while she ran the household. She was not some spoiled Earl’s sister who spent her days coiffing her hair and reading romance novels. No, she worked. If she was not overseeing the laundry, she was conferring with Cook or giving instruction to Daniels about the day’s work for the footmen and chambermaids.
Today’s work was the making of tallow candles. The household used a prodigious number of candles and every several months it was time to make a new batch. This was usually done in the kitchen as the tallow needed to be heated to be poured into the candle molds.
“Almost there, Lady Buxton. Another five minutes, I would say,” the senior kitchen maid, who regularly assisted in the candle making, said.
“Who is helping you today, Bridget?”
“Charles and Robert, Milady.”
“Excellent. I shall pop in now and then to see how it is going. But do not hesitate to come for me if you have any problems.”
“Do not expect there to be any, Your Ladyship.”
“Good.”
Maria turned to leave the kitchen when Daniels appeared and announced, “Miss Hoskins has come for a visit. I put her in the map room, Milady.”
“Oh, good. Thank you, Daniels. And will you bring us some tea?”
He nodded and Maria removed her apron and headed to the map room.
“Oh, it has been ages,” Maria cried out as she threw her arms open to welcome Anna into a hug. Her friend was leaning over the globe and looking at Asia.
“I am so sorry for just popping in unannounced, but it was such a lovely afternoon, and I fancied a walk and a visit.”
“I am so glad you did. I get so caught up with the house business, I forget to lead a normal life from time to time.”
Anna went to her friend for the proffered hug. They took a step backward, clasped hands, and looked at each other in mutual admiration.
“I have ordered tea,” Maria said.
“But it is such a lovely afternoon might we have it in the pergola?” Anna asked.
“That would be lovely. Let me just tell Daniels.”
When Maria returned, the two friends linked arms and left through the French doors onto the terrace. They walked down some steps and across the lawn to the pergola, set in a grove of trees, that was one of the more pleasant places to partake of tea.
When they reached the pergola, the two friends sat at the table and began to chat until the tea arrived and was served.
“Have you had any news from your father?” Maria asked. “He has been gone for so long this time.”
“We have only had two letters. Both were rather brief and to the point. ‘I went here. I went there.’ That sort of thing. But we have not heard from him for a long while now.”
“Then perhaps he is on his way home,” Maria suggested.
“We certainly would like to think so.” Anna was feeling lazy after her first cup of tea and she stretched and yawned. “But Dorothy has it in her mind for us to give a dance. She is longing to be entertained. She thinks we live a dreary life. But I told her it is not proper without father in attendance.”
“Then perhaps we should be the ones to give a dance. It would not be a ball, of course. But we might put together a lighthearted evening with music and a little dancing.”
Anna sat up. “Oh, Maria, that would be splendid. Do you think Harry would agree?”
“I do not see why not. It has indeed been a long while since anyone in the neighborhood entertained.”
Anna felt like teasing and asked, “And would you be inviting Percy? I do believe he has shown interest in you, has he not?”
Maria blushed and busied herself with pouring them each a second cup of tea. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Anna. Mr. Percy is not a very reliable young man. I do not think he would make an appropriate suitor.”
“But he is so-o-o handsome and charming,” Anna said and leaned in to catch Maria’s eye and made her acknowledge the truth of what was in her heart. But Maria avoided Anna’s gaze. “Go ahead, Maria, admit you have feelings for Mr. Percy. You know you do.”
“I might find him a little interesting,” Maria finally conceded.
“Oh, I believe it more than a little. Come, we have been friends for too long to play games with each other.”
But this was one area where Maria did not want to open her heart to her friend. She did have feelings for Percy, but she felt embarrassed by those feelings because she could clearly see that the young man was not a worthy suitor. So she continued to deny her feelings and pretend they did not exist.
“My dear, Anna, as I said, I do find Percy handsome and charming, but also a little too cavalier—and that is not what I am looking for in a young suitor.”
Anna shrugged. “But you would dance with him at your dance, would you not?”
“Of course,” she said with a faked smile. “I am a lady, after all, and he would be a guest. Who am I to refuse a guest a dance?” Then Maria turned the tables. “Anna, while we are on the subject, I believe that you have feelings for Percy, as well. Am I not correct?”
Anna blushed and tried diverting the subject by saying, “Well, I am in a mood to dance with any and every one. It has been a desert in Wiltshire for over a year. We need some gaiety and dancing. And I, for one, would even dance with a stable hand if he were invited.”
Maria laughed. “My dear, you are liable to gain a reputation.”
“I shall risk it.” Then she suddenly got down to b
usiness. “So, you and Harry will host a dance? It would be so lovely to hear the gay strains of music and to feel light footed once again.”
“And I imagine Dorothy will join us?”
“Of course—this really was her idea. Poor dear, she has little exposure to young gentlemen, and I fear, with Father away so much of the time, she will rarely have the opportunity to meet any young men soon—unless you hold your musical evening.”
“Then I will make certain it is done!”
“Please. Let me know if we can help in any way. I know a great deal of your attention is directed at helping to run the estate. But if Dorothy and I can be of assistance, please call on us.”
The Scandalous Saga of the White Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 2