"Edward, despite you continually ignoring my opinion that you work far too hard when you don't need to, I can still understand the importance of you entering into an agreement with Lord Watson. From what you told me earlier, it would be extremely advantageous for you to be able to trade in France. Especially after all the trouble there has been the last few years with Napoleon, and his dreadful war. I am assuming that it would be highly beneficial for you to have a friend like Lord Watson who has already established business connections there."
Edward smiled, and tried to make light of the situation without confirming that what his mother had said was right. He would cancel his trip if need be, and he surely would also make the enquiries for a replacement companion himself. Even though one of the servants could easily do this on his behalf he wasn't prepared to take any chances that it wouldn't be done to his high standard when it came to looking after his family. Furthermore, he was fully aware what the loss of Ruth must mean to his mother. Cynthia Carlisle was still an independent woman, but the older she had become the less she liked change. Especially after his father's death, Ruth had grown accustomed to the way she liked things to be done. He had often felt relieved that he could leave her in such capable hands when he did need to travel on business.
The Duchess of Carlfield still hosted numerous social soirees, and other events, when they were at the family's country seat. It gave her a lot of pleasure, and, he surmised, a certain amount of pride. She had relied heavily on Ruth to help her with these events, and he wasn't prepared to contemplate the thought of her cancelling them because he hadn't found a replacement. Absolutely not! This definitely wasn't a task he could delegate to a servant. Although how he would find someone suitable in such a short space of time he didn't know. Assuming it would be a miracle, if he did.
Meanwhile, even though the Duchess felt much better, now that Ned was at home, she was still reeling from the news. Irrespective of how upset she felt, she had still reacted to Ruth'sresignation in her usual sensible manner. Quickly considering the practicalities of what needed to be done, to help the woman who had turned into a friend. At the same time obviously wishing that this hadn't happened. Poor Ruth had been distraught, clearly torn between the two women, but Cynthia had insisted that she must go to her mother. Fully intending to ask Edward to continue paying her servant's wages for as long as she needed the money. She also instructed Jenkins to get one of the footmen to accompany Ruth back to Yorkshire. Making sure he was told to carry her bags, and arrange for the rest of her belongings to be sent to her.
Both Ruth and her had cried, and hugged each other. Ignoring Ruth's insistence that it was improper for the Duchess to do this, Cynthia had replied in her usual matter of fact way that she was speaking complete nonsense, and held her even tighter until she stopped trembling, ignoring the social impropriety of what she was doing. She also gave Ruth her favourite shawl for the journey, and insisted that she had to keep it, which brought a fresh round of tears to her companion's eyes.
After Cynthia had told all of this to Edward over their fresh fruit and ice cream, he wasn't in the least surprised that his mother had done it. In a time when many would not have acted so, she did.
She deserved having someone good and kind to help her. Making him even more determined than before, to find the perfect replacement for Ruth. While Cynthia wished that Ned would also let her help him, he was always the perfect gentleman. Impressing upon her that he was no longer a boy, and it was his duty now to care for her, which had equally made her feel very proud of him. He always tried to appear strong, however tired he might be or unhappy within himself. The reasons for which he hadn't always shared with her, although she had her own thoughts on what might be troubling him, and why she sometimes caught him brooding.
As Edward carried on eating, he was thinking quickly. Wondering what the alternative might be, if he couldn't find a lady's companion at short notice. The Duchess wouldn't of course be entirely alone in Yorkshire. She would have the servants there.Not all of them travelled to London to spend the season at his townhouse, and they had mostly been with the family for years. Undoubtedly, he trusted Jenkins implicitly, along with his land steward, Tindle. There was also mama's ladies' maid, Florence. He often heard them laughing about something or another when he passed the door of his mother's bedchamber. All of them loved her as much as he did, so he shouldn’t feel that any harm could come to her. Nevertheless now that Papa had gone, it was his duty to see that she had every comfort in life.
Again, following his father's example, the servants were also well cared for. Edward made sure personally that their wages were more than enough to cover all of their needs, so that they could in turn take good care of their own families. As far as he was concerned there was little point in being rich unless you could help others, especially those less fortunate. His mother shared this sentiment in the events she organised to raise charitable funds, also in the way she treated others. So much so that his duchy continued to thrive, and there was a part of him which did regret not spending as much time there as he would have liked to. However, Yorkshire held a lot of memories for Edward Carlisle which he still wasn't entirely comfortable with.
He glanced at the Duchess who was cutting the food on her plate into dainty morsels, before popping them one at a time into her mouth. He couldn't help smiling. Despite her elegant appearance, she could be equally formidable when the occasion demanded it. Fiercely defending an injustice, and riding a horse in her younger days like no other woman he had seen. His father had loved her dearly, and he assumed, from a place deep within his heart. Edward sighed, for what might have been. He still missed Papa's deep and reassuring voice at times like this when life seemed overwhelming. Also Joey, his best friend, who had been the Duke of Westling. Neither of them should have died when they did, but he had gradually learned to accept that death was a part of life. Whilst despite Mama's spirit remaining strong, he could also see a frailer side to her now, which hadn't been noticeable before.
Edward knew that it would have given her so much pleasure if he had been able to fill their large house and Yorkshire estatewith grandchildren, and for him to have had a wife she could have sat with, treating her as a daughter. Edward sighed more deeply to himself. Making a proposal before now had crossed his mind. He knew that he was considered to be highly eligible by the mamas who followed his every move when he attended a ball, but which he chose to ignore. It seemed to him that unless a marriage had love as its foundation it was a sham, and he wasn't prepared to treat his spouse in that way. She deserved to be loved by him properly. From the little he knew of women, this should be deeply, and passionately. Although he had at one time been prepared to try to do this, he soon realised that he wouldn't have been able to unless he was truly in love. Irrespective of his mother's wishes, that was a moral decision he wished every day that he hadn't had to make.
"I will find you a new companion, Mama!" Edward said, repeating his earlier words, to stop her from worrying that she might not be able to cope without Ruth's help. Also to appease his own guilty conscience, and belief that he had failed her in not marrying sooner.
Chapter 2
Two days later Sophia was in her bedchamber, looking through the small collection of gowns Lucas had paid for in the belief that this would be enough for her to be suitably attired for the season. It was late afternoon, and she had been upstairs since not long after lunch. Ostensibly trying to choose what to wear for dinner tonight, to please her brother and obey his wishes, but in reality writing a nature poem which had distracted her during her walk in the garden that morning. The birdsong, early sunlight, and different varieties of flowers in the small garden had stayed with her. So much so that she knew from experience if she didn't get her observations onto paper the thoughts and poem would be gone. Something which had become an endless frustration for her, since she was unable to regard her time as her own.
There was so much she wanted to explore, and write about, while cautiously appearing not to be interested in anything of the sort in front of Lucas. She had become used to hiding her paper and pen under a cushion when she heard his voice in the hall, or the front door opening if he had been out. Picking up the same piece of embroidery she had been working on since the start of the season, adding only two or three more stitches to it if he came into the room. Thankfully he had so far failed to notice her lack of progress.
She was glad at times like this that her brother had been frugal regarding the number of servants he kept, and hadn't hired a replacement maid to help her dress. At least this meant that she could be alone with her thoughts when she stayed in her bedchamber, and relatively undisturbed. Trusting that the housemaid, Amy, who was of a similar age to herself and sympathetic to her plight, wouldn't reveal the amount of time she spent writing. Least of all to Lucas. The two women had developed a quiet friendship which didn't go beyond the bounds of propriety, but helped both of them to cope in different ways. Sophia spoke kindly when Cook was being unkind, and Amy's quiet voice often made Sophia feel better after Lucas had been spiteful again.
She had spoken to Amy about finding another position, since she wasn't particularly happy being part of Lucas' household. Even though in her heart it was the last thing she wanted her to do. Amy was however adamant that she would stay with Miss Barlow, and not leave her alone. She had seen how much Sophia suffered at Lucas' hands, and dried her tears on more than one occasion. She also did her best to help Sophia with her hair when her arms were tired from struggling with holding the weight of it for too long. Although styling it simply was the best both of them could manage, without any of the bits and pieces of ornament the other debutantes used to intrigue their eligible gentlemen.
Sophia knew only too well that none of this mattered to Lucas. Far better in his eyes that he should continue to accumulate wealth, and keep what he already had. Whereas from what Owen had told her, Papa had left sufficient funds in his estate for all of them to live quite comfortably, without this penny pinching. A disturbing thought came to her then. She hoped neither Mama nor Papa knew what Lucas was doing, as they would surely turn in their graves and not be able to rest easily. Tears trickled down her face again, until she rubbed them away impatiently. This simply wouldn't do! She had left it late enough to choose from the gowns she had already worn many times before, and couldn't delay her decision any longer.
Without further ado she chose the nearest dress from the pile on her bed, and began to brush her hair as the words of the poem came back to her. Determined that they wouldn't be lost, until she pushed them wearily again to the back of her mind. The dress she had chosen was pretty enough, she supposed. White, with sprigs of pale pink rosebuds on the skirt, and ribbons to tie under the bodice. She had certainly been glad to receive it at the start due to not having had many new clothes since Papa's passing. She could wear Mama's pearl necklace with it. This was her favourite piece of jewellery. Lucas had said that she could have the rest of the things Papa had given to her when she was twenty-one. However, as awful as it was, she hadn't completely believed him when he said it. Since he had that strange look on his face. She realised afterwards that she hadn't seen the box the jewellery wasin since Papa's passing. It had always been kept on Mama's dressing table, and when she kept on asking Lucas about it, he eventually told her that it must have been lost.
She only had the pearls and coral necklace, since these had been in her bedchamber. Papa didn't have any objection at all to her wearing anything that had belonged to her mother, but she had no idea now what had happened to everything else. Another mystery, she thought, sighing to herself but Lucas would no doubt know the exact whereabouts of the box. With a heavy heart she returned the other dresses to the wardrobe where she had left her two ball gowns. These were made of heavier cloth, and for more formal occasions. Not that she cared particularly about what she wore any more. Especially after hearing two of the other debutantes discussing her lack of dresses, and the shame of not apparently having any new ones. They had attributed this to her lowly position socially, as a merchant's daughter, and to not having a mama to guide her.
Catherine's observations about romance in Northanger Abbey came to her mind in an instant, and the realisation that she completely understood why she had yearned for adventure. Sophia knew only too well by now how it felt to be trapped in a dilemma which didn't seem to have a solution. Unless of course Lucas presented her with a suitor she was drawn to and felt she might be able to love, which seemed highly unlikely. Her other greatest fear, and reason for refusing to accept any of the earlier proposals she had received, was that any one of the gentlemen who had made them might forbid her to carry on reading. Possibly even worse than that, refuse to give her permission to continue writing the poetry she loved. Sophia knew that if this happened her life would truly no longer be worth living, as some gentlemen did expect complete obedience from their wives. Without them ever daring to express an opinion of their own, let alone use their imagination, or think of having an adventure.
Sophia frowned in a most unladylike manner. She couldn't summon any enthusiasm at all for tonight, or their unknown guest. Wishing again that she still had time to put the finishing touches to her poem while recognising the futility of this. Nevertheless shewas starting to wonder who their visitor might be, and her optimistic nature dared her to hope again that Lucas had for once invited a gentleman whose company she might actually enjoy.
A short while later, Sophia stepped into the drawing room where Lucas and Owen were engaged in a loud conversation. Their voices were raised, and it appeared to be some sort of disagreement. They stopped speaking as soon as they noticed that she was there. Sophia was alarmed to see the concerned expression on Owen’s face when he greeted her. Something clearly wasn’t right, and her suspicions were confirmed when the butler announced the arrival of Lord Dilley. Much to her horror, and dismay.
Sophia stared at Lucas, realising that he had tricked her into having dinner with such a horrible gentleman. Taking the chance away from her to plead illness, and need to have a tray brought upstairs to her bedchamber. He had that look on his face again which she equated to someone being about to suffer at his hands, and this time it was going to be her. He was staring at her now, with a mean and hard look in his eyes. A year ago, Lord Dilley had offered for Sophia’s hand, and if it hadn’t been for Owen’s intervention at the time, Lucas would have forced her into an unwanted marriage with him. Owen’s persistent defence of her wishes was the beginning of Lucas' stream of suitors being invited for dinner. She had been right in her earlier assumption that her brother was angry. This was his way of seeking revenge on both Owen and her, for daring to argue with him when he was head of the family.
As Owen and her had anticipated, dinner was an extremely awkward affair, with Lord Dilley staring across the table at her throughout in a lewd manner. As she continually rebutted his attempts at drawing her into conversation about inconsequential matters. Being unable to believe her brother had done such a dreadful thing, and not being prepared to make it any easier for her prospective husband. However it was clear that Lucas was enjoying Owen’s and hers, obvious discomfort. Whilst they couldn’t help feeling relieved when dinner eventually came to an end.
The following morning, Amy knocked politely on the door of Sophia's bedchamber, and told her that she had been summoned by Lucas to have breakfast downstairs with him. Instead of the tray she had asked to be brought to her room. As she stepped into the drawing room, Owen caught her eye and shook his head slightly warning her not to cross Lucas any further. She could also tell by the look on Owen’s face that something was very wrong.
Lucas smiled, and told Sophia to take a seat. "Dearest sister, I have some delightful news for you before breakfast is served." He paused, enjoying every minute of her obvious discomfort. "As I rightly anticipated, Lord Dilley has made an offer for your hand in marriage, and on this occasion I have given my blessing to it."
Sophia stood up, immediately after the words left her brother's mouth. "You can’t do this to me, Lucas," she said, feeling that the bottom had dropped out of her world.
"But, my dear, you haven't given me any other choice," he replied, in such a way that it would have sounded quite reasonable if it had been concerning anything else.
Owen tried at that point to intervene, expressing his dissatisfaction at the arrangement. Also much to Sophia's surprise, reminding Lucas that she would shortly receive the benefit of the trust fund left to her in Papa's estate. It was a modest sum, but if she was careful she would be able to get by. No longer being an expense that his brother had to pay for. Also since she would soon be twenty-one, there surely shouldn't be any reason for her to be forced to marry against her wishes.
