Slipped Know - A Victorian Romance Novella

by Winter, R. G.

  Madelaine waved a handkerchief in front of her face as the pungent smell of the city wafted higher thanks to the rising sun and the number of horses trotting around the park. “I must agree. It seems you have the sort of childhood I wish I had only had.”

  Clare chuckled and straightened her hat. “Oh I had no idea how lucky I was until just now. I always supposed that the way we were raised was the way every child was raised until we met the vicar and his daughters.”

  She made such a face at the last sentence that Madelaine had to laugh. “I take it you are not fond of them?”

  “Oh it isn’t that. It’s that they are so pompous! They know their station is above the villagers and they walk among them, passing out the charity baskets and such you see, with such attitude! They are positively convinced that they are somehow blessed with more holiness than anyone else on earth and I often look at them and wonder what they will do if their father dies for they are quick to pray but slow to enjoy the written word or housework beyond what they must do.”

  Madelaine leaned forward. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Clare gave her a long look. “You don’t know?”

  Madelaine sat back in the seat, “No, I am afraid I do not.”

  Clare shifted in the seta and licked her lips. “You see a vicar is the only one…the church owns their house you see. The vicar must work until he dies, often traveling from parish to parish. If the vicar dies the widow and the children must vacate the house so that a new one can take his place.”

  Horror filled her. “You don’t say! But where do they go?”

  Clare lowered her parasol to keep a strong gust from flipping it inside out. “I have no idea. Most vicars make a shamefully small amount and so when they die, as they often do, their wives and children are left all alone. Most daughters of vicars become governesses or something like that but the vicar who resided in our village before this one came…well he died of a sudden seizure of the heart…and he had five children, all very young. It was a terrible thing, his dying so young and unexpectedly, and his wife remarried hastily and long before her period of mourning was up, which—as you know is very frowned upon.”

  “Maybe she had to.”

  Clare’s lips formed a flat line. “I would say she absolutely had to. She married the baker in our village, a widower with four children of his own. It’s not a happy marriage as he is fond of wine and she is the daughter of a vicar and the widow of another and believes that his singing and drinking of wine is the very work of the devil. He feels she is too contained and they argue constantly.”

  Madelaine looked away. The park stretched green and still, its borders packed with young men and women on horseback and in carriages. In ten years, or twenty, many of them would be dead. It was afcat that life was far too short for all, how could she continue to live as if she was not aware that she would likely die before she was twice the age that she was now?

  That fact sank in.

  It oozed into her heart and made it quail. Her mother was not yet forty and already her hair had turned silver. She was still strong and upright but many of the young woman who had been beauties during the same Season that her mother had been one had wrinkled and shrunken from years of childbirth and the hard work that came from overseeing vast houses and the stress of ensuring that their children were well wed.

  What would she be like when she was her mother’s age if she wed Reginald? Tired and sad and hoping for death to find her quickly? Loveless and unloved and filled with regret?

  She had a terrible feeling that that was exactly how it would be.

  But if she married Jonathan she would be tired too—but tired in a very different way. She would have laughed and loved her way through life, lived every moment of it and found joy and pleasure in it.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she stared out at the park and the laughing people, both older and younger, in the carriages and astride the horses.

  How many of them had had, or would have, a life of their own choosing? How many had given up the one they wanted for the one that had been prescribed to them since their births?

  She wasn’t sure she truly wanted to know.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning Winston waylaid her and Clare in the breakfast room and announced he was taking them both for an outing, right then. Madelaine, figuring that he wanted to spend a little time with Clare, agreed readily.

  They took an open carriage out, trotting along the city streets merrily. Clare and Winston, now that they were away from prying eyes, held hands and talked to one another in low tones. Madelaine allowed them their space. Her own thoughts were far from the moment anyway.

  It would break her parents’ hearts and probably see her disowned and disavowed but she could not marry Reginald, no matter how much of her word she had given to do so.

  She couldn’t.

  She could not marry a man who did not hold her heart. She would die of unhappiness and misery.

  As they passed through the fashionable part of the city and into the more crowded and less fashionable streets a rider joined them. She glanced up and over and her heart almost burst with joy.

  “Hello!”

  Jonathan smiled down at her. The morning sun hung high in the sky, sending lemony-hued light down upon his strong tanned face and dark hair.

  His smile lifted his cheekbones and caused small lines to appear around his eyes. His hand came out and she took it. Their flesh met and a small shiver stole across her. The sight of him riding nearly stole her senses and she found herself aching to go back—to go back to the times before this one. To ride with him, wildly, across the bluffs and to be free to kiss him and touch him as she wished again.

  They rode on, his hand holding hers until they had to let go. He rode onward and she slumped back into the seat, crestfallen.

  Winston grinned at her. “I have a surprise for you.”

  She groaned and lifted her hands to straighten her hat, which was in danger of sliding off her head. “Never say it. You have far too much up your sleeve as of late.”

  He chuckled. Clare said, “No, this surprise you shall like.”

  Madelaine hoped she was right. The sight of Jonathan, so close—close enough to touch—had sent her heart tumbling into the darkest depths, along with her spirits.

  They turned back and trotted through the city again, the horses riding faster now. Madelaine frowned. “Where, precisely, are we going?”

  Winston shifted in the seat. “Home. Mama and Papa had a rather urgent errand today and I imagine your betrothed will be there at any moment. I told Mama and Papa I would act as chaperone.”

  “If you really cared about me then you would turn this carriage around and let me go,” she stared out at the landscape, her heart aching. “Or call for Persephone and let me run away while they are out.”

  “Oh hush. You are so dramatic!”

  Clare held up a hand, “Now Winston, don’t be unkind.”

  They didn’t speak again until they made it to the townhome. They walked into the house, Madelaine feeling the marital noose tightening around her neck with every step. That feeling intensified when Reginald’s carriage stopped smartly at the gate and he stepped out of it.

  he looked handsome as always and she wished with all of her heart that she could feel something for him but sadly all she felt was a species of quiet sympathy for his position.

  Reginald entered just as Victoria came, hastily, down the stairs. Her smile was huge and wide but it dimmed quickly. “Oh, well hello. I will ring for refreshments.”

  Winston said, “You might want to ring for something a little stronger than tea.”

  Victoria blinked. She looked quite fetching today with he rhair up and her pastel blue gown highlighting her color. Madelaine swept them all into the formal parlor, not really knowing what else to do.

  Just as they had all settled in and the maid had brought the refreshments there came a loud knock at the front door.

  Victoria frowned
, “Whoever could be calling?”

  Winston went into the foyer and came back with Jonathan in tow!

  Madelaine sprang to her feet, forgetting her tea. The cup fell to the floor, the heated liquid inside spilling to the rug. Her mouth opened and closed.

  Winston closed the door tightly and bent to pick up the cup. He handed it back to Madelaine with a gesture of utter aplomb. She stared at Reginald, and then back at Jonathan. Now, seeing the two of them side-by-side, she could see she would never be happy and that her marriage would be unhappy and that no matter how Reginald felt about it she must break off this terrible engagement.

  Winston said, “We have about half-an-hour before our parents, that is Reginald’s and ours, realize that we have sent them on a wild goose chase. Therefore we muct speak hastily, and quietly.”

  Reginald went scarlet. “I say this is quite irregular!”

  Winston said, “The whole situation is quite irregular as I see it. So, Victoria, do you want to tell Madelaine what you and Reginald have been up to or should I?”

  Reginald went redder. He also went to Victoria’s chair and stood there, one hand on her slim shoulder. “Leave her alone.”

  How could she not have seen it before? Victoria and Reginald were in love!

  Flummoxed and confused all Madelaine could do was gawk at the couple as Jonathan came to her chair and stood behind it, his hand lying on her shoulder just as reassuringly as Reginald’s lay on Victoria’s.

  Victoria, tears in her eyes, spoke up. “Do not blame him. He came…he came here to ask for my ahnd in marriage. He didn’t know my age—he ha dbut seen a glimpse of me. Of course Papa did not realize until into the conversation that he meant to ask for my hand and not yours Madelaine and they quite tricked him! He…he’s bameless in this! I…I was the one who kissed him first.”

  her face went scarlet at the last. Reginald patted her shoulder and said, “You have nothing to be sorry for darling and if anyone says differently they shall have me to contend with!”

  Madelaine lifted her hand and let her fingers lie on Jonathan’s. “I knew you had no affection for me, and it quite flummoxed me that you would continue…oh but when did you discover that my parents meant for you to wed me?”

  “As soon as I said I wanted to wed…” Reginald sighed and brushed an errant lock of hair from his forehead. “Oh what a fine mess! I was sure, when you ran away, that they would call the whole thing off and I could wait for some time then woo Victoria properly. But I did not consider how fervently your parents wished us to marry.”

  Victoria leaned forward and he rface held such a measure of sorrow that madelaine wanted to weep. “He has ot marry you, you know. There are ocntracts in place and he cannot break them.”

  “Oh but he can.” Jonathan stepped away from her for a moment and she gazed up at him, utterly astounded and bewildered. “You see the contract has some very tricky wording, wording that could be used to…well, perhaps not break it but to ensure that it Victoria, and not my Madelaine that walks up the aisle with you.”

  His Madelaine!

  Yes!

  Yes she was his—and he had been made for her. They were both wild at heart, and perfect for each other just as Victoria and Reginald were perfect for each other!

  She set the empty cup and saucer aside, “Surely Mama and Papa will understand. They do wish for us to be happy—under all their talk of marrying well for the sake of it they do love us. Victoria, you are too young to marry though. Why you have just turned seventeen!”

  Victoria’s cheeks had two bright spots of red in them. She held he rhead high. “I am very mature for my age and marrying has always been my dream. There is nothing else that I wish to do, and Reginald cares for me as deeply as I care for him. What does it matter if we wait a year? Or marry now? That is, if we could wed at all.”

  The last words came out on a forlorn little wail.

  Reginald patted her gently. “Do explain yourself chap.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “The contract does not say which de Winter daughter you shall wed nor do the bans. I rode out this morning to check on that very thing.”

  Victoria’s head came up with a jerk. “Oh! Oh! Say it’s true!”

  Reginald bit his lips and hope filled his face. He looked down at the carpet then up at Winston. “I did not mean to romance Victoria in such an unseemly way…” his words faltered.

  Madelaine rubbed her temples. “How did you know they were in love Winston?”

  Winston gave her a smug look. “I caught them kissing last night.”

  “Oh.” Madelaine looked at Victoria, who hung her head and kicked a delicate slipper into the floor.

  Reginald asked, “Do you suppose that…that we could stop this disaster from occurring? Oh no offense Madelaine—it is just that I cannot imagine myself married to someone so…so headstrong! Especially not when I am so in love with your sister too!”

  “Oh no offense.” She bit back a grin. “I assure you I have no wish to marry you wither. I wish to marry Jonathan.”

  Winston took Clare by the hand. “I believe you and I should take a walk in the garden and let these couples decide how to handle their problems. Especially as our parents have pulled up at the gate.”

  Madelaine clutched Jonathan’s strong hand. Dread rolle dup in her belly.

  Fear and hope mingled as the two older couples entered the room, their faces registering both shock and confusion, and a little anger.

  Reginald stepped forward. “Hello Mother, Father, Lord and Lady de Winter. It seems we have a bit of a…well I am still wedding your daughter but not the …not Madelaine. Instead I shall be marrying Victoria!”

  The Duchess, Reginald’s mother, fell into a chair. Her eyes went so wide Madelaine was sure they would pop right from their sockets. Lord de Winter went white then red. Lady de Winter gasped and lifted a hand to her forehead in a classic pose that suggested she was about to faint dead away on the parlor rug.

  She rallied quickly though. “Please explain yourself sir!”

  Her parents sat down together on a low settee, both their faces wearing an expression of utter shock. Reginald’s parents sat in the chairs before the fireplace, and they looked equally astounded.

  Reginald stood beside Victoria, one hand on her wrist. The gesture was protective and said he was determined. Victoria’s head was high but her eyes shone with tears and she shook, just slightly, but enough that Madelaine wanted to go to her and hold her tightly.

  Jonathan, standing near to Madelaine, gave her a smile that held hope and comfort.

  “I say, this is very irregular!” Lord de Winter’s face was solid red.

  Lady de Winter murmured, “Oh dearest, calm your temper before you have a fit of apoplexy!”

  The Duchess lifted her head, sniffed the air like a greyhound and said, in a tone dripping with disdain, “Please do explain yourself Reginald. You wanted to marry the elder first, then she ran away, and now you have wooed a girl under the age of marriage!”

  “Calm yourself Mother.”

  Madelaine blinked. Reginald drew himself up. Suddenly he looked much harder, and far less bland. He looked determined and quite courageous and she saw the smile that Victoria gave him. “As Lord de Winter will likely tell you I saw Victoria, Miss de Winter here, and fell instantly in love with her.

  “Only I had no idea she was merely sixteen. Lord de Winter informed me of that fact then added that the elder Miss de Winter was of marriageable age. I left that day, and then—well the two of you—father and Lord de Winter, put your heads together and before I knew what was what I was betrothed to the wrong Miss de Winter! I was quite willing to wait until she was of marriageable age. Am still willing to wait if we must, but I would much prefer not to.”

  Lady de Winter exclaimed, “Is this true? Why Mr. de Winter, you never informed me that the duke wanted to wed Victoria!”

  Madelaine winced. Jonathan edged closer. His eyes danced with humor. He actually even winked at her! She had to hi
de a smile as she turned back to the scene playing out in the parlor.

  Lord de Winter went even redder, blustered a bit, then roared out, “It was a marriage contract and to be honest I didn’t think the lad would care which daughter he wed!”

  “You were very wrong on that count sir.” Reginald bowed his head in a respectful gesture but it was clear that he was annoyed. “Before I knew it I had signed a contract that never said Madelaine de Winter, just Miss de Winter. I was positive that Victoria had accepted my proposal and was willing to be betrothed to me until she was older.

  “Little did I know!”

  Jonathan stepped forward. “So your wedding contract does not state you shall marry Madelaine?”

  “No!” Reginald threw his hands in the air. “I should have seen that earlier! They were tricky, these two. They were determined to have a match as soon as possible but they knew I would balk at marrying…” he blushed, “Forgive me Miss, I do not mean to insult you. It is just that I had no more wish to marry you than it seems you had to wed me.”

  “Be that as it may, in their haste to trick me into an immediate match with the elder Miss de Winter they have given me the perfect opportunity to rebel. You see, I will wed Miss De Winter, happily, but this one—not her.”

  Victoria clutched his arm. She said, “I know I am perhaps too young for you to be comfortable with me marrying but I am well-qualified for marriage. I bring all the same things my elder sister would have brought—as I do not imagine my parents would stint me on a trousseau or on the other conditions of the contract.”

  The Duchess spluttered. Her husband looked utterly shocked. Victoria went on, in a serene and composed voice. “I play the harpsichord and pianoforte. I dance well. I am able to run a household—and have in Mother’s infrequent absences. I am capable of writing menus, and seeing to it that the servants have kept to their chores. I am firm but kind with the servants. Also I am adept at watercolors and household expense account figures necessary to keep to the kitchen and servant budgets. In all, I think I am most suited as a wife. I am mild of temper, happiest when at home, and I have experience with everything from receiving visitors to dinner parties.”