“I am not going to get used to it, Mama!” Aurora protested. “I have absolutely no intention of marrying an English duke I never met, and probably won't like anyhow. And I shall have to live in England all the time, and probably go to court to meet that German king. I do not like Germans, Mama. Do you remember that German overseer we once had? He was a horrible man!”
“One cannot judge an entire nation by one man, Aurora. I thought I had taught you better than that. Besides, the king is an old man and will probably not live much longer. His son, Prince George, is said to be kind and lovely. A real Englishman. It will be a young and delightful court that you join, my dear.”
“Not I,” Aurora said ominously.
“We will discuss it in a few days,” Oralia said.
“We will discuss it now, Mama,” came the reply. “I am not going to marry a stranger and go to live a life that I should hate in a wet, cold country I have never even seen.”
“I would,” said Calandra. “To marry a duke, and go to court, I would marry the devil himself! You really are a fool, Aurora. What an opportunity your father has given you, and you are not one bit grateful. If Papa had betrothed me to a duke, I'd wed him in a trice!”
“A stranger, Cally? You would marry some stranger you had never set eyes upon? I think it is you who are the fool!” Aurora said.
“Marriages are always arranged,” Calandra answered her stepsister. “So you have never set eyes upon this man. He cannot, surely, be the beast from some fairy tale! And, remember, he has never laid eyes on you either. I'm certain he is wondering during his long days at sea if you are the sort of girl he
really
wants for a duchess, but he will do his duty, for his father made this match.”
“He will gain a sugar plantation and this island for his troubles,” Aurora noted.
“And you will gain a duchess's coronet!” Calandra countered.
“I don't want it,” Aurora said irritably.
“I wish I had your opportunity, you silly creature,” Calandra snapped at her stepsister. “You really are quite spoiled!”
“Do you want this duke, Cally?” Aurora asked the other girl. “Then have him! You marry this Valerian Hawkesworth!”
“Aurora, that is quite impossible,” her stepmother said.
“Why?”
Aurora demanded. She brushed a tendril of hair from her face where it had fallen. “Have you seen this marriage contract that Papa arranged? What exactly does it say, Mama?”
“Say? Why, I have no idea,” Oralia replied.
“George! Go to Papa's library and look in the strongbox he kept by his desk. I will wager a year's crop you will find this marriage contract in that box. Bring it here at once,” Aurora commanded her stepbrother. Then she looked directly at her stepmother in a way that discomfited the poor woman. “We will see if there is not some way I cannot wheedle my way out of this situation. Why, the nerve of this duke! He has ignored us all these years, and now, with not so much as a by-your-leave, madam, he announces he is coming to marry me!”
Calandra giggled. “I will wager a year's crop, if it were mine to wager, that your duke would be horrified to learn what manner of girl you are, Aurora. Men, I am told, do not like forward and fierce women such as yourself. You will have to improve your manners.”
“Hah!” her stepsister responded. “The man who marries me will have to accept me for myself. I will not be molded and posed like some clay figurine. Besides, Cally, how would you know what a man wants in a woman. You haven't been off St. Timothy since you arrived from Jamaica, when my father and your mother married. You don't know any more about men than I do!”
“We're totally backward and gauche, the pair of us,” Calandra lamented. “I don't know why Papa insisted on making us wait until we were seventeen to have a season in England. Why, he wouldn't even let us go to Jamaica for a visit. We will seem like savages when we are finally allowed out into polite society.” She pushed her plate away fretfully. “I find I am no longer hungry, Mama.”
George reappeared, clutching a parchment. “You were right,” he said, handing it to Aurora and sitting back down. “It was in Papa's strongbox just as you said it would be. Hasn't anyone looked through that box since Papa's death? It is chock-full of papers.”
Aurora didn't answer him, instead, opened the missive and read it over carefully. Then, suddenly, a very wide smile brightened her face, and she chuckled wickedly. “Here it is! The answer to my problem, Mama. This contract betroths
Charlotte
Kimberly to Valerian Hawkesworth. Now, while it is true I was christened Charlotte Aurora, Mama, Calandra was christened Charlotte Calandra. Remember that when you married Papa and came with George and Cally to St. Timothy, it was decided that rather than have two Charlottes, each of us would use our second name to avoid jealousy, or the appearance of favoritism toward either of us. This marriage contract does not say
Charlotte Aurora Kimberly.
It plainly says only
Charlotte Kimberly.
So, if Cally wants to marry this duke, she can. He certainly won't know the difference, having never laid eyes on me in his life.”
“No! No! Aurora! We couldn't do such a thing,” Oralia protested.
“Why not?” came the quick response.
“Well, for one thing,” her stepmother said with what she hoped was perfect logic, “the duke is expecting to marry the heiress to St. Timothy, and not a girl with a thousand a year, a thousand pounds in gold, and some jewelry. Calandra's dowry simply wouldn't be good enough for the Duke of Farminster.”
“Mama,” Aurora countered with equal reason, “if this duke is coming from England to marry Charlotte Kimberly, then it would appear he is a man of principle. If he cannot marry Charlotte Kimberly, I do not believe he will return quietly to England without protest. I am not the attraction for him. How could I be? He knows me not. It is the island and the plantation that hold an appeal for this man, and he will not be satisfied to go home without them. So he must have a Charlotte Kimberly to wife. Cally wants a duke for a husband. I do not know what I want, but I do know I will not be driven to the altar. Cally's inheritance from Papa shall be mine, and I would have one other thing. I want the Meredith plantation house that belonged to my mother's family. Cally will then be this duke's Charlotte Kimberly, and this island and the plantation will be turned over to her husband upon their marriage. Everyone will be happy. The duke will have the island, and Cally will have the duke. It is a perfect answer to our problems.”
“You are so very clever, Aurora,” her stepmother admitted, “but what if the duke learns of your deception? If indeed I would even allow such a thing. Could it not be considered fraud? No! No! I will not permit such dupery. It is dishonest!”
“Then you face the possibility of having the duke demand we turn over St. Timothy's plantation to him anyhow, and we shall all be dispossessed, homeless, abandoned by all. After all, he is keeping his part of the bargain by coming to marry Charlotte Kimberly. If the bride will not cooperate, do you really expect him to bow, and graciously withdraw, leaving us to our home? Nonsense, Mama! He will be mortally offended. Why, George may even have to fight a duel to death to assuage this duke's honor. Then the duke will demand reparation for his embarrassment and broken heart. Well, it shall not be my fault. I have offered you a reasonable solution to our problem. Don't you want Cally to be a duchess? She'll be a perfect one with her classic features, her marble-white skin, and raven's-wing hair.”
Oralia Kimberly bit her lower lip in vexation.
George Spencer-Kimberly shook his head in admiration at his stepsister's devilish cleverness. Then he looked toward Calandra. She was absolutely holding her breath in anticipation.
“Say yes, Mama!”
she half whispered, her tone almost desperate.
But Oralia Kimberly held firm. “No,” she said. “I cannot permit such a thing. Be reasonable, Aurora. Your father planned this marriage before your birth. If he were alive, we should not be having this conversation at all. I will discuss it no further.” She arose from the dining table and hurried from the room.
“I want to be a duchess,” Calandra whined.
“You will be,” Aurora assured her stepsister.
“You heard what Mama said,” George reminded them.
“Mama will change her mind, I promise you,” Aurora said with a mischievous grin. “She will have little choice when the duke's ship sails into the harbor and I am still refusing to marry him. When that moment comes, her resoluteness will collapse entirely, for she will be considering what I have said over these next few weeks, George. No matter how honest and good she is, she cannot help but consider how marvelous Cally will look in a duchess's jewels; or of how much she will enjoy visiting Jamaica, and boasting of
her
daughter, the Duchess of Farminster.” Aurora laughed, and then she stood up from the table. “We really must begin considering your wedding gown, Cally.”
Calandra pushed her chair back. “Do you really think we can persuade Mama, Aurora?” She stood.
“You just leave it to me, little sister” was the answer.
“Do not call me little sister! We are both to be seventeen,” Cally protested.
“But my birthday is April sixth, and yours is June first. That makes me the elder by two months,” Aurora teased her stepsister.
“Oh, you!” Calandra giggled. Then she said, “What do you think this duke is like, Aurora?”
“He is undoubtedly most arrogant, and overweening proud” came the reply. “Not once in all my life has he communicated with me, nor, do I believe, did he ever write to Papa.”
“Did you ever consider,” George said quietly, “that perhaps he did not know he was to be married either? There are letters in Papa's strongbox from a James Hawkesworth. I told you that I don't believe anyone has looked through that box since Papa died. Certainly Mama didn't. God only knows what else is there. Shall we go and look?”
“Yes! Yes!” his sisters chorused in unison, and the trio made their way from the dining room to the late Robert Kimberly's beautiful paneled study.
Settling themselves on the floor, they dragged the box into their midst. Opening it, George Spencer-Kimberly pulled forth a packet of letters tied with hemp twine. Undoing the binding, he opened the first of the letters which was on the bottom, and perused it.
“This is the first letter from James Hawkesworth. He seems to be the Third Duke of Farminster. He writes to tell Papa that his son, Charles, has been drowned with his wife and daughter in a boating accident. His grandson, Valerian, he says, was not with them, and although the boy is devastated by the loss, he will recover. He says he is glad that his son made this match between their families, and that he will make certain that the obligation is honored when little Charlotte is grown. He asks after her.”
“How touching,” Aurora said dryly.
“I think he sounds like a nice old man,” Cally ventured to add.
“So,” her elder sister said, “we know that Valerian Hawkesworth's parents and sisters are dead, and that he was raised by his grandfather.”
“And grandmother,” George corrected her. “James Hawkesworth mentions his wife. He wrote to Papa twice a year. In June, and in December. From the tone of his letters, Papa obviously wrote him back, passing on news of the family, and how you were growing up, Aurora.”
“Does this old duke ever refer to me as Aurora?” she asked.
“I will have to read through all the letters,” George replied, “but from what I can see, it would appear not.”
“What does he say about the grandson?” Aurora's aquamarine-blue eyes were thoughtful, and her brow just slightly furrowed.
“Not a great deal. Wait, here is something! It's in the last letter, which was written June last. There is no December letter.”
“Of course not. The old man obviously died,” Aurora noted. “Well, come, George, and tell us what the June letter says.”
“It is not very long. You know, it would appear that the old duke wrote Papa in his own hand, and did not use a secretary. The writing is quite spidery.”
My dear Robert,
I have not been well these last months. It would seem that passing one's seventieth birthday takes a toll on the health. From my calculations, it would appear that little Charlotte has celebrated her sixteenth birthday. The contract between our two families calls for the marriage of your daughter and my grandson to be celebrated next year after Charlotte's seventeenth birthday. Valerian has grown into as fine a man as one could wish. I will tell him soon of the arrangement made between his father and you all those years ago. He will come for your daughter next spring, but we shall have to correspond before that, of course. My good wife sends greetings to you and your family. I remain, as ever, James Hawkesworth, Third Duke of Farminster.