Part 4 (1/2)
”Won't I? Three young women in perfectly good health do not need the a.s.sistance of a woman to dressthemselves each day!” he said sternly. ”You may help one another. Come, now, I'll not have yourdespair! You shall manage quite well on your own and with Lucille's help, I a.s.sure you! Now, then, goon with you.”
The three of them reluctantly gained their feet.
”Here, now, you mustn't look so downcast,” Lucille said sternly. ”Your face will bear the permanent lines of it if you continue to frown!”
They glanced uneasily at Lucille as they walked out, heads down, lips pressed firmly together.
”Oh dear,” Lucille sighed when the door closed behind them. ”That did not go very well at all, did it?”
”It went perfectly well, Lucy,” Egbert muttered, but his mind had already moved on to how he might release the servants.
The servants were gone by the end of the week. Ava, Phoebe, and Greer stood in the foyer, fightingtears as they bid good-bye to servants who had been in their mother's employ for so long they wereconsidered family-family who had been tossed out onto the street with nothing more than a fortnight'ssalary and the promise of a reference.
”But I ain't got nowhere to go, milady,” Old Derreck, their gardener and horseman, said to Ava as hepushed a thick hand through a shock of gray hair. ”I got nowhere to lay me head.”
Ava caught a sob in her throat, threw her arms around him, and held him tightly to her. ”I'm sorry,Derreck. I'm so very sorry.”
”Here,” Phoebe said, pulling Ava's arms from the old man and taking his hand in hers. ”Take this.” Shepressed three gold crowns into his palm-the last three gold crowns Phoebe possessed. ”It's hardlyanything, but it will at least provide you with lodging for a time.”
”Until I can send Lord Ramsey a note on your behalf,” Ava interjected, thinking of one of her mother's friends. ”He's always in need of a good gardener. I am certain he can find you a position in his household,” she promised, cringing inwardly at her lie. She had no idea what Lord Ramsey needed or didn't need, but she would beg him to take Old Derreck in as a favor to her mother's memory if nothing else.
Beverly was the last to leave, and the three of them cried as they clung to the woman who had helped them bathe and dress for as long as they could remember. ”There, now, wipe your tears,” Beverly said bravely. ”I'll not have you carrying on for me. I've been meaning to visit my mother in Derbys.h.i.+re for ages. So wipe your tears, all of you. Lady Downey would not like you to cry. She'd ask what you would do to improve your lot, wouldn't she?”
Beverly was right, but it didn't hurt any less.
When she'd left, Ava closed the door behind her, feeling the weight of her sorrow and worry of what would become of the three of them like a heavy winter cloak about her shoulders.
”I hate him,” Phoebe whispered.
Ava gathered Phoebe and Greer to her, and the three of them retreated to their rooms to grieve in private.
Lord Downey left two days after that, his step amazingly light for a man whose waist circ.u.mference seemed to equal his height. By the following Monday, a little on dit buried deep in the pages of the daily newspaper suggested that three young women known very well about town had lost their fortune to their stepfather and would undoubtedly be in search of another man's fortune as soon as they could put aside their mourning clothes.
That small mention was, as far as the three of them were concerned, a death knell for their social life. Fortune was everything to the ton, and those who did not possess at least a bit of one were not, as a rule, particularly welcome in the salons of those who had fortune in abundance.
They agonized for days what to do, and finally agreed on a course that was unconventional, and in some cases, ill-advised. They were a bit desperate, true, but they were far more determined to find their way in the wake of their mother's death.
Four.
LONDON.
MARCH 1820.
I t was Jared Broderick's bad luck to have returned to London after a particularly harsh winter a full fortnight after his father. It had given the old man time enough to meddle in his affairs, long enough for him to have arranged an interminable luncheon with Lord Robertson and his family. The duke had not, it would seem, mellowed over the winter months while Jared had remained at Broderick Abbey, managing to stay out of his father's sight and, he'd hoped, his mind. He'd entertained Miranda only thrice in an effort to maintain a low profile.
Yet if anything, the old man seemed even more determined in his mission to see his only son married to Lady Elizabeth Robertson.
Lady Elizabeth Robertson had not improved in looks or mien, as one might have expected after a full Season out. To be fair, Jared was basing his opinion on one exceedingly dull luncheon at which he was still engaged. The woman had said very little and eaten much less, which was not, he supposed, sufficient information by which to judge a person's entire character.
But his opinion of her had not changed.
He thought he would crawl out of his skin if he was forced to endure one moment more of this luncheon, and as he watched Lady Elizabeth take precisely measured bites of her whitefish, his mind wandered again to his father's most recent threats.
It was his own fault-he should have held his tongue yesterday when his father asked him if, after a winter of contemplation, he realized he must put Miranda aside for the sake of the dukedom.
”No,” Jared had said wearily.
”No? That is all you will say?” the duke had asked incredulously. ”I do not think you understand me, sir. If you refuse to put her aside, then I am prepared to expose your greatest mistake and all those a.s.sociated with it.”
At first, Jared thought he'd misheard him, but when he saw the look of triumph in his father's eye, he was stunned. ”Are you threatening me, your grace?”
”Threaten is perhaps too harsh a word. I am trying to impart the depth of my conviction,” the duke responded evenly.
”You have a rather cold way of imparting your conviction.”
”I do what I must to ensure the sanct.i.ty of the name Redford.”
Jared had scoffed at that. ”Can you truly say that in the same breath you use to threaten me? My G.o.d, I don't believe you care for anyone or anything other than your blessed name!”
”That's ridiculous,” his father had said, waving a bony hand at him. ”I care for you, but you are too b.l.o.o.d.y stubborn to see it. Yet I care for your honor more, which you have so carelessly squandered. Do as I ask, Jared,” the duke continued at Jared's groan of exasperation. ”Marry Lady Elizabeth. Her family is awaiting your offer. Perhaps you will speak to her father at luncheon tomorrow.”
”I will not speak to him,” Jared said calmly. ”I will not be forced into marrying her.”
The duke sighed, and he looked, Jared thought, older than he had at their last meeting, four months ago. ”I am warning you-don't push me to do something you will regret.”
”I don't push you to do anything, your grace. I have only asked that you leave me to live my life as I see fit. It is a request any man might make of his father,” he snapped, and walked out, ignoring the duke's shouted warning that he would do what it took to keep his name from being tarnished.
Jared had left Redford House feeling as he always felt after these interminable interviews-as if his father had placed an invisible vise around him and was slowly turning the screws, torturing him with his demands, forcing his hand.
London was swelling with the Quality as they began to make the trek from the country to town in antic.i.p.ation of the Season, and he rather supposed yesterday's row had already spilled across Mayfair, for his father's servants, he believed, were amazingly fast in their ability to spread untoward gossip among the ton.
To stave off any more gossip-and for deeper, more complex reasons that he did not fully understand- Jared had come to the Robertson luncheon as commanded. He'd come to keep the peace, he supposed, fearful that his father would make good on his threat and hurt more people than just Jared. It had pained him to do so, for the day was lovely and quite warm for an early March day.
But here he was-stuck in a drafty mansion, seated across from a demure Lady Elizabeth while hermother spoke of their winter-imagining days and weeks and months and even years of such tediumstretching before him.
”We had a repair done on the east wing,” Lady Robertson was saying, as if he might possibly care what they did. ”But what with all the rain and snow, the work was not completed.”
”Ah,” he said, forcing himself to look away from Elizabeth's deliberate chewing.
”Once we have completed the work, we shall host a weekend affair for all of our good acquaintances.We've a dozen bedrooms in that wing alone.”