Two hours later the quartet was settled in the dining room. Reid filled Henry in on what was already being referred to as the Peterloo Massacre, and the reaction in London.
“Everyone is tense and scared that demonstrations and possibly even violence could also outbreak in the city,” Reid said as he shoveled chicken into his mouth. “The Tories are clearly on the wrong side here, and their preemptive action has showed their hand. The laboring class can see those in charge are scared the events in France could be replicated here, and the ruling class obliterated. It’s hard for working men and women to see the purpose of the peerage when they are struggling to put food on their tables.”
Reid was gesturing wildly in his passion on the subject, unmindful that he was still holding his knife. Grace, sitting next to him, gently removed it from his grip and set it on the edge of his plate. Reid gave her a sheepish smile before continuing. “The irony here, is that by stepping in when the crowd was still peaceful, and creating chaos which led to death, the masses are now closer than ever to the breaking point. The attempt to quell may be the catalyst for what pushes them closer to trying to dismantle those at the top—the urge to suppress has only heightened the danger.”
“Are there any immediate measures that can be taken to help those who are suffering most?” Grace asked. “Since governmental reform takes time, can we not open reserves of food stores set aside for the army to help fill the need? Perhaps lessening tensions until more permanent solutions can be passed through Parliament is a way forward.”
Listening, Henry was once again struck by Grace’s compassion. He greatly admired her care for those outside her own class when so many believed they should remain separate. Many in the peerage didn’t spare a thought for those who supported them and made their lives easier every day. Just as he was appreciating his wife, his aunt spoke up, dismissing Grace and trying to correct her.
“Women should not involve themselves in politics, my dear,” Aunt Hester said. “It is a man’s place and unseemly for us to get involved.”
Henry watched as Grace stiffened, anticipating an impassioned counterargument from her, women’s education and independence being near to her heart. But she said nothing, not acquiescing to what his aunt had said, but not challenging her either, looking down at her plate with pursed lips. He felt uneasy seeing her moderate herself and was about to speak up on her behalf when Reid beat him to it.
“I have to most respectfully disagree with you, Your Grace,” he said to the dowager. “I think it behooves women to understand what is happening in the world around them, and we men might be better served if we also had the input of feminine wisdom from time to time.” At this, he smiled at Grace. “Meaningful change will never arise unless we listen to other perspectives. If men were to think with that kind of compassion more often, we may be able to solve problems in a timelier manner. Instead, we are usually too stubborn to even try and understand the perspective of those we believe to be on the other side of an issue. Conflicts are not resolved easily if we refuse to look at other options.”
“Here, here,” Henry affirmed, glad to see Grace smiling at him. Wanting to see that smile more often, he resolved to make Grace more at ease and comfortable with herself as she had before he was forced to leave. She was what mattered most to him now, and he would do anything to make her happy.
* * *
Grace enjoyed having Reid in the house. He brought a levity with him that eased the growing tension in the household and proved to be a wonderful distraction. More than anything, though, she wanted to escape with Henry and return to how it had been when they were first married, when the intimacy between them had been easy and they were able to focus on one another and live as they wished. Now, with their isolation broken and every action questioned, the ease was gone. She was not sure if the foundation they had laid together would be secure enough to keep them standing for much longer. Grace worried that the pressure to be like everyone else and maintain the status quo of the aristocracy when they returned to London in the new year would only exacerbate matters. Surrounded by thetonand subsumed into polite society, would they lose themselves completely and become lost among the crowd?
Though Henry had not spoken of his aunt’s initial reaction to their marriage, Grace could guess it was not warm based on the comments Hester made when they first met. It was clear the dowager agreed with many of the reasons she feared she was not an equal match to Henry and had at first resisted him. When proposing, Henry asserted that his position in society would overcome her lack of connections, and she had allowed herself to believe him because the picture of the future he had painted was what she had always desired.
If Grace was honest with herself, looking back, she could recognize that even then she had been falling for Henry. As resistant as she had been to the idea of marrying again, a small part of herself wanted the fairytale: a good man who saw and loved her for who she was. But they were both naïve in their understanding of how polite society operated, having been on the fringes for so long. She still worried the judgment of others could keep them from influencing the kind of changes they both desired.
Reid believed that Henry could have a profound influence within the House of Lords as a duke, which was why he was here to discuss strategy after the tragedy in Manchester. Change was inevitable if they did not wish for an uprising similar to what had occurred in the American colonies and France. Reid was trying to champion for expanding representation, which was vital if England wanted to avoid further war within its own borders. Utilizing Henry’s new position was a key part of that strategy. But Grace knew Henry’s efforts would be in vain if he did not have the respect of his peers due to his choice of wife.
If Aunt Hester’s attitude as a member of thetonwas any indication, Grace had become an albatross around Henry’s neck. She refused to make him powerless, and as much as she loved him, if it was clear that she would harm more than help, she would need to leave him for the greater good.
Two days later, Reid’s stay abruptly ended in the middle of luncheon after he received a note from a frantic delivery boy.
“What is it?” Henry asked, concern creasing his brow. “More trouble similar to Manchester?”
“No,” Reid said tonelessly, laying the letter on the table and staring unseeing into the distance. His calm façade twisted into a grimace while he uttered a quiet curse. Taking a deep breath, he said, “It appears my father died last week, and I am being summoned back to the family estate. I never wanted this, but I’m now the Earl of Weston . . .” Grace did not know the history involved, but it was clear from Reid’s troubled expression that the relationship to his new position was complicated, and like Henry, he had reservations about assuming his title.
“This is the last thing I need right now,” a frustrated Reid said. “With everything that’s going on, I should be focused on what we will present to Parliament next year. Now I won’t even be able to press for change from my seat in Commons, as I’ll have to resign as MP and serve in Lords. Damn it!” He slammed his hand down on the table, causing the glasses to shake. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, Your Grace,” he said to Grace with a contrite smile.
Tugging at his hair, he dropped his head into his hands for a moment before looking up at Henry. “My influence has just been greatly diminished, as my vote will now be drowned out in Lords with the Whigs holding such a minority. We’ll need to rely on Sidney to whip the House of Commons into line, and I’m going to need you to persuade those most entrenched in their ways in Lords.”
Reid’s words sinking in, Grace took a shaky breath, realizing the stakes had just become even higher. She was more of a liability to Henry now than ever before.
CHAPTER33
Reid left early the next morning to ride back to London and meet with his father’s lawyers before returning to his childhood home. Henry felt for him, he knew how difficult it was transitioning into a title, especially since Reid had not spoken with his father in several years and had no idea the current condition of the estate he was now in charge of. He also knew Reid took great pride in his role as an MP and would loath relinquishing it to claim his seat in the House of Lords, an increasingly archaic body. The two men shook hands as Reid’s mount was brought around, and Henry gave him a quick salute before he rode down the drive.
Making his way into the house, Henry went to find Grace in the library. He had felt a distance growing between them ever since his aunt had arrived, but she seemed especially agitated about something in the past few days and he wanted to learn what was disturbing her. He desperately wanted to bring back the closeness he had felt with her when it had been just the two of them at the manor, allowing Grace to drop her many walls and trust him.
The first few weeks of their marriage he had been allowed to show her open affection and care for her the way he wanted. Now that his aunt had joined them, whenever he tried to lay his hand on her or kiss her temple as he passed her, his aunt would sniff in disapproval, as affection for one’s wife was thought improper in theton. While Aunt Hester’s thoughts on the matter were not enough to dissuade him, Grace now stiffened away from him when he approached her. Even though they still shared a bed each night, she rarely allowed him to hold her, and they had not made love since he returned, increasing the distance between them.
His plans to turn things around were brought up short, though, when he found his aunt was also in the library. Picking up on an uneasy air in the room, he observed Grace sitting in the window seat. Though she was holding an open book in her lap, she stared at the pages with unseeing eyes, her body rigid. He started to make his way toward her, but having seen him enter the room, his aunt called out to him and halted his progress.
“Oh, Henry, good!” she proclaimed. “I was just telling Grace she should read more appropriate texts. Can you believe she even wanted to read this?” She was waving a volume at him as if the motion alone could invoke his outrage. Without a word, he reached over and pulled the book out of her hand to see what had so offended her. His heart dropped when he recognized the author’s name, Mary Wollstonecraft.
Stroking the leather spin, he said, “I gave this book to Grace as a gift.” He looked up, locking eyes with her. “I don’t see anything wrong with her choosing to read it.”
Aunt Hester opened her mouth, but before a confrontation Henry believed was long overdue could commence, a rap on the door alerted them to Standish’s presence. The normally unruffled butler looked slightly put out, if his pursed lips were any indication, and Grace rose to inquire what he needed.
“Another unexpected guest has arrived and asked to see you, Your Grace. What would you have me do with him?”
