Authors: Clare Jayne
LOTTIE CAME TO see Amelia on the morning she was due to
leave, dressed in a new grey and blue travelling outfit that made her look like
an elegant stranger.
“I was going to visit you to wave you
goodbye,” Amelia protested as they sat down either side of her bedroom window. She
was only just dressed and her black curls were still around her shoulders.
“I knew if you did that I would burst into
tears and I do not want Mr Fenbridge to see me in such a state, although there
is probably no getting around it as I will still have to say goodbye to Benjy
which will doubtless have the same effect. At least Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge is
staying to keep him company until you all join us at Mr Fenbridge’s estate.”
“It will be your estate as well soon.”
“Yes.” Lottie smiled, bright-eyed in
anticipation of the adventures ahead. “I am so excited to see it. You know how
much I like the countryside - I know I will be happy there.”
“Well, you will be sorely missed here. The
last events of the season will be very dull without your presence.”
“I am sure you will have countless handsome
men to dance with and will enjoy them very well.”
Amelia tried to smile and failed. “I doubt
it.”
“Mr Wrackley is a fool for losing his
chance with you. Perhaps you will meet someone when you come to see us and we
will live close by again.”
“What an excellent notion.” The idea had
appeal even if only for that reason but she no longer had the heart for finding
a husband. Amelia had not told Lottie that it was Mr Brightford who had
sabotaged her relationship with Mr Wrackley. It had not seemed fair since Mr
Brightford and Mr Alexander Fenbridge were related and she did not want a rift
in the family; besides that, it was too painful to talk about.
Lottie took Amelia’s hand in her own gloved
one. “It will all resolve itself for the best. Remember how unhappy I was just
a short time ago and now I could not be in better spirits. When we see each
other again, things will likely already have come right for you and you will
have the country at your feet.”
Amelia could not help but laugh. “Another
pleasant notion.”
Once Lottie was gone, though, her good
humour at once left her. Losing her best friend made everything else twice as
hard to bear. Mr Wrackley was gone. Mr Brightford had the very lowest opinion
of her and it had caused him to take away her best chance at future happiness. No,
she would not think of it; any of it. She called for Walker to come and dress
her hair so she could go out and distract herself.
* * *
It was mid-morning when she decided to call
at Mr Harrington’s depleted household to see how Benjamin was. She had spent
the morning admiring cloth and trying on hats she could not afford to buy and
her mood was lower than ever. The prospect of a dinner party that evening did
nothing to cheer her, not when her best friend would never again attend such
events with her. She could barely recall a time before she and Lottie had been
friends and it seemed almost impossible that Lottie should suddenly be absent
from her life.
Benjamin looked equally depressed when she
was admitted to the library, prompting her to ask, “Are you missing your family
already?”
His mouth twisted into something that was
not a smile. “My father’s parting words to me were that he expected me to be
engaged to be married the next time he saw me and I was welcome to bring my
future bride and her family with me to Lottie’s wedding.”
She felt a wave of sympathy, realising her
own life was not the only one in chaos and at least she had her parents’
support. “Will you do it? Propose to someone?”
He paced over to the window then back
again. “I do not know. I am not sure I can live such a fake life, but if I do
not do as he says…”
“You think he would disinherit you?”
“Yes.”
She had always thought Mr Harrington a
cold, stern man but this was heartless beyond belief. Why should he be so
determined to deny his own son happiness? “Have you had a chance to tell Mr
Nathaniel Fenbridge about this yet?”
“No. It is not his problem.”
“He cares about you, perhaps in the same
way that you care about him.”
His eyes shot to her face, gaze searching. “Do
you think so?”
“I do. Between the two of you I am sure you
can think of a solution to this.”
She returned home feeling that at least if
her own life was not what she might wish then at least she had offered some
excellent advice to a friend. From Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge’s words in the past
she was positive he felt the same way as Benjamin and she was fond of them both
so it would be good to see them happy.
* * *
Brightford stared out of the dining room
window at the dappled sunshine that fell through the various trees in his
garden creating areas of bright light and shadow, bright colours and dull ones.
His house seemed empty after Alex’s departure. Nathan was still around but he was
out a lot and he was still angry with Brightford over Miss Daventry. The anger
was rare in someone normally so good-natured and it once again caused
Brightford to question whether his judgement of Miss Daventry had been right
and whether he should have kept quiet to Wrackley.
But surely he knew Miss Daventry better
than Nathan did? He had always found her outspoken opinions irritating but he
recalled now that he had been quite taken by her beauty the first few times he
had seen her. Overhearing her cool intention to find a wealthy man had shocked
him and killed any attraction. However, the callousness he had attributed to
her did not match the affectionate behaviour towards Miss Harrington that
Fenbridge had described and he himself had seen her rise hotly to her friend’s
defence when Miss Harrington had been insulted at a ball.
Perhaps when he had overheard her a year
ago she had been too young to know what she wanted and her views had changed. Perhaps
she genuinely had cared about Wrackley.
Perhaps she had cared only for his wealth.
He shook his head in frustration at his
circular thoughts and decided that he would get nowhere at the moment. As he
left the house and headed for his stables he decided to observe Miss Daventry
more carefully in future and if it turned out that he had been in the wrong
then… well, he would think of some way to put things right.
* * *
Amelia’s words had given Benjamin more hope
than he had dared have before. Surely if she - someone who could see the
situation impartially - thought Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge returned his feelings
then it must be true?
The two men had taken one of their rides -
a regular tradition between them now - into the countryside. They had now
paused to eat a light lunch, their horses munching companionably on the grass
beside them.
“The view here is lovely,” Fenbridge said,
sprawled on the soft grass beside him, close enough to kiss.
Benjamin stared sightlessly around him,
pulse racing, thinking of what he wanted to say and trying to build up his
confidence. “Yes. Most pleasant.”
“You seem a little distracted.”
“I have been forced to consider my future
and in particular marriage.” He paused, trying to find the right words to
convey his hopes for their relationship.
“I nearly became engaged some years ago.”
These quietly spoken words hit Benjamin like
a blow and he stared at his companion in growing shock. He wished he could
never have heard this and go back to his previous state of hope but it was too
late. “What was her name?”
Fenbridge looked surprised at the question,
as if his mind had been elsewhere. “Miss McLeod.”
“I suppose she was attractive and
accomplished?”
“Yes. Both.”
Of course she was, Benjamin thought bitterly.
What a spectacular fool he had been. Fenbridge was only a bachelor because this
Miss McLeod had broken his heart. Benjamin’s only consolation was that he had
not confessed his feelings and utterly ruined their friendship. In light of all
he had hoped might exist between them, it was not much comfort.
He did not want to hear anymore and, for
the first time, wanted to be away from Fenbridge’s company. “It looks as if it
might rain. Shall we head back?”
“Er, yes. If you wish.”
They packed up the remains of the meal and
got their reluctant horses moving, Benjamin leading the way back to Edinburgh,
the only thought in his mind being a bottle of whiskey and subsequent oblivion.
LOTTIE STARED up at the building - more of a castle than
a house - in front of her. It was several times larger than the small country
estate her own family owned. She had not realised before how rich Mr Alexander
Fenbridge was and her former nerves returned: could he really be content to
make her the mistress of so grand a building and put her in charge of those who
ran it.
The servants were all in attendance to
greet Mr Fenbridge, lined up in rows that presumably represented the different
household and outdoor departments - housekeeper; maids, butler, footmen, cooks,
grooms, gardeners… There must be a hundred people.
Having walked round the carriage to her
side, Mr Fenbridge took her arm and, with a smile, led her forward and
introduced her to the most senior of the various servants. He spoke to them in
an affectionate manner which she could see they returned and they greeted her
with bows or curtsies and polite smiles. A few of the others looked at her with
open curiosity.
Mr Fenbridge then led Lottie and her
parents into the house, which was every bit as grand and elegant as its
exterior suggested, from the tapestries on the walls to the sweeping staircase
ahead of them. The hall tables and grandfather clock gleamed as if they had
just been polished.
“Would you care for a tour,” Mr Fenbridge
asked her, “or would you like to rest for a while before dinner?”
“A tour of the house would be lovely,” she
said, trying not to sound utterly intimidated by her surroundings.
Her father asked to be shown his room - he
looked worn out from the long journey - but her mother accompanied them, no
doubt feeling that a chaperon was still needed. As Mr Fenbridge led them round
the ground floor he gave a brief history of the building and its more
interesting features, adding, “Naturally you will be at liberty to change
anything you do not like.”
“Oh, no,” she said at once. “It is
beautiful.”
“It is an elegant place but I know that
some of the décor is old-fashioned. This is your home now and I want you to be
happy here.”
With this, her worries eased and she
remembered why she had been so glad to accept his proposal.
“I hope we will both be happy,” she said,
determined to do her best to ensure it.
He gave her a warm smile and agreed.
* * *
Amelia was distracting herself from her
life. She refused to think about Mr Wrackley - he was gone for good so it was
pointless to pine for him. She would have to see Mr Brightford at some point,
but she had no idea how she felt about him at the moment. It hurt to think his
opinion of her was so low and she could not yet work out whether that view was
justified or not or whether he had had the right to speak of it to Mr Wrackley.
She felt too bereft at losing Lottie and Mr Wrackley’s departure to be able to
consider Mr Brightford so she was putting that from her mind too. She was
beginning to get a headache from all the things she was not thinking about.
She spent half of the next morning looking
through her clothes to decide what to take to Lottie and Mr Alexander Fenbridge’s
wedding. It did not matter that she was not leaving for two months; planning
the trip made her feel better. Several gowns and bonnets were not bright enough
for her liking so she took her maid to the shops to purchase ribbon to improve
them. When she got back to the house she could almost believe that she felt
perfectly content.
The footman handed her out of the carriage
and she walked into her home, pausing in the hallway when she heard her
mother’s normally calm voice, high-pitched and distraught. Heart thudding
painfully in her chest, she walked towards the library just as the butler ran
out of the room.
She caught his arm. “Stewart, what is
wrong?”
“Forgive me, Miss,” he said, pulling away
and hurrying towards the servants’ stairs, “I must fetch the doctor at once.”
She kept moving towards the library and put
a hand on the intricately carved oak door, pushing it further open. Her father
was lying on the floor, clutching his chest, her Mama kneeling beside him.
“No!” Amelia ran forward and sank to the
floor, taking her father’s hand.
His face was a terrible grey colour. His
eyes slowly moved to Amelia’s face and he mouthed her name then he wrenched his
hand from hers, clutching his chest one final time.
His body jerked then went limp and, as she
watched helplessly, his eyes emptied of life.
* * *
Mr Alexander Fenbridge had arranged for Josie
Smith, one of the household maids, to act as Lottie’s personal maid since her
own maid had family in Edinburgh and did not wish to leave. Smith was a
middle-aged woman who had seen Mr Fenbridge’s sisters grow up in the house -
her list of their accomplishments was never-ending.
“You should invite them to dine here,”
Lottie’s mother insisted.
“How can I?” she asked. “I am not the
mistress here.”
“You soon will be and you need them to see
that their brother is marrying the sort of lady they would wish him to wed:
someone who can run his household flawlessly; organise and act as hostess for
countless balls, dinner parties, etc. They are important ladies of the area,
respected here and in their visits to the city. Their support could do you a
great deal of good but if you fail to make a good impression…” She let her
sentence tail off, her expression leaving no doubt that Lottie must do this and
do it perfectly.
She reluctantly mentioned the idea to Mr
Fenbridge later that day and he agreed at once, saying that an informal dinner
party would be an excellent way for her and his sisters to become friends. Her
spirits lifted by his confidence, she wrote out the invitations and gave them
to the butler for delivery, letting him know that the dinner would be in two days’
time. His stony expression immediately made her worry that she had done
something wrong: perhaps the invitations were too formal or maybe he did not
feel the household was being enough notice to arrange everything. She ventured
to suggest that she could alter the date, which he seemed to take as a
criticism, telling her stiffly that this was unnecessary and the staff were
perfectly capable of fulfilling any duty she had for them.
By the time the cook came into the drawing
room to discuss the menu with her, Lottie’s courage was failing her. She was
sure that the cook meant her suggestions kindly but she was left feeling that
she could get nothing right.
Mr Alexander Fenbridge should have asked
Amelia to marry him, Lottie thought despairingly. Amelia had all the
confidence, determination and leadership abilities to take control of staff and
home and to win the admiration of all her neighbours. Amelia was everything
Lottie was not.