“Do stay and dine with me,” she said. “I would greatly enjoy your company.”
And Fanny, who knew how dismal it could be to eat alone, realized that she and Constance had more in common than their admiration of the late duke. It was time to put that old feud behind them, to be sure.
She smiled. “I should be delighted, Lady Haynesdale,” she said with an enthusiasm she herself would never have anticipated just hours before.
It was wretchedly far from Haynesdale to London. Helena thought they would never reach town again. On the other hand, she was not anxious to encounter Mr. Melbourne again, or even to face her aunt’s inevitable chastising. Her short visit to the Dawlish home had given her a new appreciation of her own situation—and her experience with Mr. Melbourne had secured her resolve to wed a rich man.
The Duke of Haynesdale would suit her well. For the sake of comfort, she would turn a blind eye to his infirmity and his advanced years.
She was glad that Nicholas and Mrs. North would wed, as the prospect seemed to give them both joy. She supposed that two persons so aged must be glad to have someone with whom to share their dotage. Their union also would give her the opportunity to frequently encounter the duke.
Helena did not intend to let opportunity be lost.
Their return to London was at a more stately pace than their departure and Tupper seemed to expend a tremendous amount of concern on horses that were not even the duke’s own. He talked long with the ostlers at each inn, and Nicholas often joined the discussion. They stayed at The Bell, the inn at Stilton, for one night before continuing to London. That evening, in the room she shared with Mrs. North, Helena noticed that her brother’s intended read late into the night. It seemed that she had a treatise that fascinated her, though she declined to tell Helena anything about it.
That only ensured that Helena was resolved to read it before they reached London.
On that last day, Nicholas rode with Tupper atop the coach and Mrs. North dozed off in the coach during the afternoon.
Helena supposed that the lady’s great age could only lead to such fatigue, especially when she had read long into the night.
She opened Mrs. North’s satchel slowly and steadily, watching for any change in that lady’s posture or breathing. There was none. She recognized the document immediately, for it was a sheaf of loose pages, covered with elegant handwriting. Helena secured the top one and retreated to the far side of the coach to read it.
Upon the merit of a forthright touch...
Helena felt her lips part in amazement as she read the page, then she sat up to avidly read the entire page while she had the opportunity. Once she had read it all, and considered the illustration, she viewed Mrs. North with newfound appreciation.
Her chaperone, it seemed, had a far larger knowledge than Helena had ever guessed. She eyed the satchel and wondered how many more pages she could read before Mrs. North awakened.
There was only one way to find out.
In the end, it was Eliza North who wed before Easter Sunday, not Helena Emerson. The Saturday in question dawned a glorious spring day, with a clear blue sky overhead and an abundance of sunshine.
Eliza was awake early, still unable to believe her good fortune. Nicholas had been to Haynesdale again to ensure that all would be in readiness for their arrival at Southpoint and that of his aunt at the cottage, which had need for some repairs. Upon his return, they had agreed upon the date, despite Damien’s continued absence, rather than delay their nuptials any longer. The duke had sent his good wishes and arranged for the special license.
Eliza left the house for the church with her mother, waving to those neighbors who appeared to wish her well. All the staff had gathered to wish her well, and her mother was hosting a luncheon afterward. She wore a new dress of silk so fine that it might have been gossamer, with golden embroidery of such lavishness upon the hems that she felt like a queen. Roses not yet being in bloom, she carried a nosegay of blue hyacinths and their sweet fragrance had already filled her chamber. The larger coach waited before the house, the team of four bays tossing their heads with impatience, and Tupper beamed at her like a benevolent uncle.
In the carriage, her mother conjured a letter and presented it to her.
“What is this?” Eliza asked.
“A gift for the happy couple.” Her mother’s smile was mysterious.
“Maman! You have already planned a luncheon...”
“It is not from me,” her mother said, interrupting her protest. “Read it now so I may see your reaction.”
In that moment, Eliza recognized that the letter was addressed to her, and the script was in Damien’s bold hand. She opened it, thinking he sent her good wishes for the day or perhaps sent word of his return. Instead she gave a gasp of delight and looked then to her mother.
“He always planned to settle a sum upon you when you wed again,” her mother confided. “But this, I believe, will be more welcome.”
It was, for Damien declared that he was returning Southpoint to Nicholas outright, as a wedding gift to both of them. He had written to his estate manager as well, who would finalize the details when next they arrived at Haynesdale.
“Did you contrive this, Maman?”
Her mother shook her head. “Damien insisted upon it. He asked my approval, for he said Nicholas had declined the gift before and he did not wish to give offence.”
“I am certain there can be none, Maman.”
