“Saybrooke tells me that you are to spend a number of weeks with the newlyweds at Bentwood,” said Finch conversationally.
“Indeed, we are. After they have a proper honeymoon, of course. All of us from Woburn Place, including the servants, are to spend six weeks there in July and August. We are all so looking forward to it. Charis would, too, if she understood, but London is all she knows.” Serena hesitated, surprised by her own lengthy speech. Until that moment she had barely returned two or three word replies to Mr. Finch.
“I am very glad to hear it, for I, too am promised to Bentwood for the month of August,” he replied, bestowing on the shy young lady his most charming smile.
Serena’s face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. Before she could think of a reply, Charis rushed by her, shrieking in delight.
“Charis!” said the fond mother sternly. “Excuse me, Mr. Finch I must see to my daughter.”
“Nonsense, Serena, you keep talking with Mr. Finch. I shall set that little imp straight,” Lady Whitcomb said sternly and went in search of the little girl.
Mr. Finch watched her go with concern. “She’s a bit of a tartar, is Lady Whitcomb. Are you sure your Charis will be alright.”
“Of course, Mr. Finch. Do not let Lady Whitcomb fool you. Charis has her wrapped around her little finger. She is only in danger of being spoiled to death.”
Charis, chased by Reggie, raced past Lady Saybrooke, who was seated beside Lady Doncaster. The squealing scamps bumped Lady Saybrooke’s chair, nearly spilling her wine. She rolled her eyes and knowingly bemoaned the low company at the festivities, carefully excepting Lady Doncaster and her daughter. She added with obvious distaste, “I never thought I would see the day my son would marry such a one as Isobel Kennilworth.”
Lady Doncaster turned to Lady Saybrooke, her smile a trifle forced. “He is indeed fortunate to have snagged such a lovely young woman as Miss Kennilworth. My daughter and I hold her much in esteem, as I am sure you do.” Seeing Lady Saybrooke’s flustered expression, Lady Doncaster’s smile brightened and she continued. “I never took you for such a jokester, Lady Saybrooke, calling the Dowager Duchess of Warwick and her son, the Duke, low company.” Lady Doncaster chuckled and playfully tapped Lady Saybrooke’s arm with her black lacquer fan. Lady Saybrooke sputtered for a moment in protest and finally, smiling weakly, offered a feeble comment that the Duchess of Warwick did lay a very fine table.
The aforementioned lady, in between admonishing her young son and his dog to stop running about, enjoyed a nice coze with Laura, Lady Tyndale. They spoke of Warwick’s Home for Widows and the dreams and plans they each had for the venture. Laura and Adriana happily found themselves to be quite compatible and their conversation was sprinkled with laughter.
Lady Joanna did not seem to be quite so cheerful. She and Lord Charles were involved in a heated discussion about his rapidly approaching removal to his estate in Derbyshire.
“Charles, I do not see why my mother and I cannot come to visit! It would be perfectly respectable.” cried Lady Joanna.
“Joanna, our engagement is meant to be a secret. If you were to come and visit me it would raise questions. You must be patient, sweeting,” Lord Charles spoke in his most placating tone.
“But I will miss out, while you have all the fun!” Lady Joanna’s outburst brought a few glances their way and Lord Charles took her elbow and guided her away from the small crowd.
“I will be spending my time with acrid smelling cows, milking them and cleaning up after them; I hardly think that fun is an accurate description.”
“It would be fun for me,” pouted Lady Joanna.
Lord Charles conceded. “Alright, I think it will be fun, too, but Joanna, you must see that you cannot come.”
“Why must I see that? Charles, you need me there!”
“Oh, so that is the problem,” Charles said, his volume increasing as his anger flared. “You do not trust me to do this on my own! You believe me to be helpless without you there to guide me.”
“Charles, you are a London buck. I know how a farm works.” Now, Lady Joanna’s voice took on a placating quality.
“Joanna, I grew up at Warwick Park…” Lord Charles began.
“And your father taught Reginald how to run the estate, while you played with the stable boys.”
Charles knew she was right, but it rankled. He eyed her coldly and then spoke. “If you see me as so useless, it is a wonder that you wish to marry me.”
“I did not say that you are useless, Charles! Merely inexperienced. And I am marrying you because I love you, despite your stubbornness.”
“Me? Stubborn? Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!”
Lady Joanna bristled, but struggled to keep her tone light. “I am a bit determined, I admit it.”
“You are downright obstinate!” They both glared at each other for a few moments. Charles broke the standoff with a parting speech. “I will leave for Hidenwood tomorrow at first light. My steward and I will work hard and successfully convert the estate to a dairy farm. If you cannot trust me to do this, you cannot trust me as a husband. Now, I will take my leave of you and then wish Isobel and Saybrooke happy before I leave to pack.” A look fraught with emotion passed between the affianced couple. Tears appeared in Lady Joanna’s green eyes and trickled down her elfin face.
“Charles…” Lady Joanna could say no more as tears rushed down her cheeks.
Lord Charles took his beloved’s hand and kissed it, holding it for quite some time. “I look forward to your letters, Joanna. I will need them to cheer me.”
“I will miss you dreadfully.” Lady Joanna managed.
“And I, you,” said her fiancé with feeling. At last, he let go of her hand and with one last longing look, turned to leave.
“Charles!” said Lady Joanna with urgency. Lord Charles turned back to face her. “I do trust you.” Lord Charles smiled lovingly at his future bride, unable to speak. He quickly turned away in search of Isobel and her new husband. After saying goodbye to Isobel, Saybrooke, Lady Doncaster and Adriana, he left Wren House and his beloved Joanna behind.
Below stairs, Mrs. Kitchen was in heaven devouring food that she did not prepare, happily pointing out its inferiority to her own cuisine. “This roll is as dense as Renfrew’s head,” she chirped as she slathered her third bun with butter and ate it with delight. Renfrew, misinterpreting this as a compliment, beamed at the cook and greedily consumed his fourth lobster patty. Jem, too, enjoyed a large portion of food for such a small boy. He was in a happy frame of mind once again, his hated new coat and waistcoat hanging on a peg near the servants entrance, his tie jammed into one of his coat pockets.
After hours of good food and gaiety, it was time for Isobel and Saybrooke to depart for Kent and Saybrooke’s country estate, Bentwood, where they planned to spend a month alone. With a score of servants, of course. Goodbyes were said, tears flowed, embraces abounded and the couple was off to begin their life together.
Finally, after the numerous goodbyes, Saybrooke and Isobel were alone in their well-appointed carriage, exhausted and happy, soaking up their shared affection.
“I cannot remember a time when I did not love you, Izzy.” Saybrooke’s voice was tender.
Isobel laughed. “What? Can you not remember when we first met as children and you pushed me into the brook in March!”
He returned the laugh and was quiet for a moment. “I think I loved you even then. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I badly wanted your attention. I got it, did I not?”
“You certainly did.” Isobel shuddered remembering how cold and angry she had been that day. “And you have it now, My Lord,” she said, lifting her face to be kissed.
Saybrooke lowered his mouth to hers and devoured her with a kiss. For some time, as the coach rolled along the well-travelled road to Kent, they explored this love that they had shared for so long, but yet was somehow new. After a long while, the couple pulled o
ut of the kiss. Moments later, Isobel spoke into the gathering darkness.
“I think I have always loved you, too, Drew,” Isobel said thoughtfully.
“Even when you sailed a teacup over my head?” asked Saybrooke with a laugh.
“Oh, make no mistake, I meant to hit you with it, but yes, even then.” Isobel laughed and pulled him closer.
“You are a disgraceful little hoyden, you know.” Saybrooke chuckled, kissing the top of her head.
“A hoyden, perhaps, but thank God and thanks to you, no longer a disgrace,” said Isobel, her teasing manner gone.
They remained silently in each other arms, swaying with the movement of the carriage.
“Do you suppose we will grow to be boring and stodgy now that we are an old married couple?” Isobel asked, her face cradled against Saybrooke’s chest.
Saybrooke had nearly been asleep when Isobel spoke, but he roused himself to answer, though his words were a bit slurred. “I cannot imagine that you will ever be boring, Izzy. I could very well end up a stodgy old recluse, however.”
“I will not allow it, my dear. We have too many schemes to plan and execute and I will need your help.” Isobel was obviously wide awake and hatching new plots.
“What are you plotting, now, Izzy?” Saybrooke was wide awake now.
“Well, my dear, we have a house full of widows that need husbands.”
“And you plan to find them all husbands?”
“Of course. For anyone who would like a husband, that is. And only good, kind men will do for my widows.”
“Your widows?” Saybrooke inquired.
Isobel ignored the question. “I noticed Jasper Finch paying Serena a good bit of attention.”
Saybrooke only groaned and shook his head, but he had a smile on his face, though Isobel could not see it in the darkness.
“What an adventure we shall have, Drew! Tell me, what is Mr. Finch’s situation in life?”
“Can we not postpone the matchmaking, just a bit?” asked Saybrooke with feeling.
“Why, have you something else in mind to pass the time?” Isobel queried coyly.
“Indeed, I do,” he pronounced and demonstrated his idea. Isobel was all in agreement and the carriage was quiet for quite some time, all thoughts of the widows forgotten for the present.
About the Author
I have had a love of "story" for as long as I can remember. Reading has always been a passion for me. Writing began a bit later in life. I have written and performed in numerous plays that have been produced by amateur drama groups in Rochester, NY and Yorktown, VA. I have been happily married to John since 1981 and together we have two daughters. I am also the proud grandmother of three amazing boys! My faith, family and love of spinning stories are the heart of who I am. Her Grace in Disgrace is my first novel and the first of a planned series: The Widows of Woburn Place.
Since I am a new author, I would greatly appreciate you taking the time to write a review of this book. Also, feel free to email me with any questions or comments that you have by going to my website: www.claudiaharbaugh.com.
Thanks for reading!
Claudia
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) Page 25