An Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  He suddenly felt rather miserable about the whole thing.

  He glanced to his right. Nestled in the valley, Lytchley let fly snaking trails of smoke from hidden chimneys. Why his father had determined upon this place to purchase the estate he still did not understand. Tiny little place out of the way of anywhere worth being. He frowned, and urged his horse to the north, toward Tredwell Abbey.

  Skirting the edge of the open moor, they flew until a farmhouse edged by, followed by low buildings and a barn. Within minutes the manor house rose suddenly from above the scant trees on the ridge. The Abbey’s gray stone sides were traced with mullioned windows and capped with leaden roofs. A myriad of chimneys poured trails of smoke into the cooling twilight, and he caught the scent of supper – venison stew. Within moments, the mare was quartered, and he was warm within doors. No sooner had he handed off his coat when a voice rang out in the short hall,

  “William! At last!” His head snapped up at the voice. Rakishly confident in a light blue coat and fawn breeches, boots shined to mirrors, was his younger brother - the handsome offspring of his father and second wife.

  “George.” His greeting was more restrained. “What brings you here?”

  “Home, Will, home. From weary travels!”

  William could well believe it. While he was tasked with establishing the estate and the family name, his younger brother seemed bent on spending the family fortune. “Excuse me.” He brushed past, leaving George to entertain himself, and strode up the stairs to dress for dinner.

  Leavitt, his valet, was waiting. Silently, he handed the towels, took the soiled clothing, and handed the clean attire over as requested. William took the brush himself and carelessly smoothed his hair, causing Leavitt to wince visibly. Without a word he straightened, took a deep breath, and left as the gong rang.

  He walked swiftly down the hall and George met him at the stairs. The two of them stepped rapidly down, in perfect time without even being aware of it. They were of remarkably similar build: broad-shouldered and long-legged with trim, muscular frames. One slightly taller with light-brown hair, the other with a square jaw and dark brown, almost black, hair. George, the latter, quirked an eyebrow and said,

  “I understand I am to wish you joy.”

  “Thank you,” said William.

  “Miss Maria Lockley. Quite the triumph.”

  “Don’t be coarse, George. She is a fine young lady.”

  “With twenty-thousand pounds! Lord, why did she choose you? Does she have an extra toe or mismatched eyes?”

  “I can give you no account of her toes, but her eyes are well matched.”

  “What color are they?”

  “What?” William frowned.

  “Color. Eyes. Or I guess you can tell me just the one since you assure me that they match.”

  “Er, blue. Or gray.”

  They had reached the dining room and took their seats. George looked up from his place to William’s right. “Didn’t you notice? Memorize very detail of her lovely countenance?”

  The crease between William’s eyes deepened. “There were other matters to hand. We met, danced, I called a few times. I had to leave to return here and asked. Was accepted.”

  “You, old romantic.”

  “You can have romance. I have a duty to perform. Please, let us eat in silence.” He nodded to Hartman, the butler, to begin serving.

  They managed to make it through the soup. The venison was being served when George leaned back, toyed with the dessert spoon and said, “There is one thing...”

  William put down his fork and looked up. “I knew there would be something to bring you all the way out here. What is it?”

  George cleared his throat. “It’s just this, I need a carriage - a barouche for in Town.”

  “A barouche?” The large carriages could seat four easily but required two horses and driver. William swept the barouche away with one hand. “Horses, stabling, livery, the expenses mount quickly. You might as well ask for a coach and four! There are cabs in London.”

  “I am not going to take a friend or young lady out in a cab. Can you see me pulling up to an evening party or garden party in a dusty, dingy cab?”

  “They are convenient…”

  “They are dirty and actually quite inconvenient. Why last week I had to step over vomit on the footboard. Disgusting.”

  “I have never had a problem in town…”

  “You rarely take a cab. You pull up in the old Strathom family carriage.” George leaned back as a plate was set before him.

  “If this is just about appearances…”

  “It is, and they are more important than you think. Just because you are the eldest, the heir, things go more easily for you. You can show up in a cab and people think ‘Oh, he didn’t want to take the horses out’ or, ‘his man is ill.’ I show up in a cab, and it just underlines the fact that I have no money.”

  “You don’t. We don’t. Father put almost everything into the purchase of this estate. The farms did not produce as well last year, and as such with expenses there is less to play with. I have to save income from the investments to cover any potential expenses for the estate.”

  “You will have the Miss Lockley’s thousands soon enough.”

  “I am not spending my fiancée’s dowry before the marriage is even complete.”

  “Will…”

  William held up a hand and George paused. “Just give me a moment to consider…”

  George held his breath. William put a forkful of venison in his mouth and mulled things over as he chewed. He took another bite, then put the fork down.

  “What about a gig?” George made to speak but William forestalled him, “Hear me. A barouche requires two horses and a man. A gig is just one horse – and I happen to have one I was going to sell.”

  “The dapple gray?” asked George.

  “No, the chestnut. Rivers has taken to the gray.”

  “Well, what if I had taken to the gray?”

  “Rivers was there before you.”

  “Dash it all, William – I should have precedence.”

  “Rivers is the best horseman I have ever seen. I am lucky to have him as head groomsman…not to mention his standing in as steward. If he takes to a supernumerary horse in the stable, then that horse is his to use.”

  “George pushed the gray from his mind. “All right. So, a gig and the chestnut. And stabling in London. There is an ostler near Lincoln House.”

  “You will be limited as to cost.” He named a sum.

  George’s eyebrows rose. “Well, brother, I think that is fair. I do appreciate it.”

  William waved it away. “Just don’t kill any sheep or chickens. Or children.”

  “But no matter if I break my own neck?” George grinned.

  “Well, I would rather you didn’t.” William looked up and there was a twinkle in his eye, “It would mean extra work for me and the parson.”

  George laughed loud and long, and even William’s smile widened. They finished the meal in silence – William running figures in his head, George considering gig styles, colors, upholstery types. Finally, George picked up the napkin to dab his mouth before standing to proclaim, “Well, I am off to discuss horses with Rivers.” He ruffled his brother’s hair as he whisked by.

  William sighed, smoothing his hair back into place. It was an expense but no more than he had been considering. “But George,” he called to his brother who paused by the door and turned. “You really need to be thinking of a career. I know the church is not of interest to you. But I could get you a commission in the army, unless you prefer law…”

  George looked down a moment, instantly sobered. “I am more inclined toward the army. The regimentals would become me, I think.” He struck a dramatic pose with imaginary saber lifted.

  “There would be no need of a gig in the army.”

  “Now, brother, you already gave your word! Besides, with a fashionable carriage like that who knows – I may entice an heire
ss into it!”

  William was suddenly serious. “A year, George, then you must make up your mind.”

  George sobered instantly. “A year, then. I had best make the most of it!” He spun and left in search of Rivers.

  It was a little while later that William rose and dropped his napkin on the chair. He had plenty to do. First, a word with Rivers whom he found in the stable with George. “Aye, damned horse is next to bays in stable.” Rivers waved George off, turning to William. “Sir?”

  “Did he tell you about the chestnut and the gig?”

  “Aye. I said it might be best to bring the contraption here to train both the horse and he.”

  “Excellent notion.”

  “I’ve ordered coal and spoken to the Lucketts about bringing more hay in. They are getting low, but there should be enough to last until the first harvest,” said Rivers without preamble.

  Sir William nodded. “Good. And we will be losing one horse, at least, unless you still think we need to sell the bays.”

  Rivers considered. “It will depend on how often you mean to take out the carriage, and when you will order a new one. Have you?”

  “Er…no. I thought I would wait until Miss Lockley came for her visit.”

  “The bays should do, and we can keep them in exercise until then. Will she be bringing any horses?”

  “I had a letter from her indicating she had two horses she wished to bring. But she has had to postpone her visit, so I don’t yet know when that will be. Will we need to expand the stables?”

  “Nay, there is room. I will send the cart horse to farm to board. They can use him more there anyway.”

  “Anything I need to know about the farm or tenants?”

  “Mrs. Thornton’s cottage needs some repairs – fireplace is smoking and with her lungs that is bad. I was going to send Yates over to work on that and fix drystone wall on the upper pasture.”

  “Good. And your family, are they well or are there any needs?”

  Rivers observed the grooms going about their daily chores with the horses. “Henry is a smart lad.”

  William waited. After a moment, Rivers continued, “He talks of going into law.”

  “I have an associate or two in London who might assist him. I will write to them today.”

  “Thank ye.”

  On a sudden whim, he called for his horse to be readied. William left the stable to walk out past the barn and the stable to the top of the hill overlooking the moor beyond while his horse was saddled. He watched as Rivers finished his evening rounds and waved to him from the distance on his way home. He lifted his hand in response and continued to look out over the moor to one side and the little valley to the other. The river Tenney snaked along the edge of Lytchley then took a turn out toward the moor. Everywhere lights were flaring to life in the windows as evening progressed across the sky. He felt a sudden surge of pride in this tenuous connexion to the land, his own little estate.

  He just wished he knew what was missing.

  Chapter Three

  Eliza set the basket of wool down next to the spinning wheel and sat down. The morning had gone as usual – she had risen before her uncle and finished breakfast before he came down in his gown and cap. She had gotten dressed and gone outside to cut flowers for an arrangement, and then spent a while trimming and placing them in the big, cut crystal vase that had belonged to her grandmother. Some work in the kitchen garden, sweeping the front steps off, and a little work in the parlor dusting and straightening. Bessie usually did most of the heavy housework, but she liked to take care of the parlor herself.

  She sat at the spinning wheel for a while, looking out the window and watching carts, horses, sheep, and people go by. The banked lane branched off the main road that led to Stanton, the much larger town to the west, and so there was fairly constant traffic to watch and occupy her. Uncle was over in his study, a little room carved out of an odd angle in one wall and set off from what had once been a small conservatory. Books were piled in there now, makeshift shelves holding books in no semblance of order. She heard him arguing with an imaginary author and smiled. A little more work at the spinning wheel, and she had a large hank of yarn to unwind from the plying bobbin.

  Bessie was doing laundry, humming off key in the back room and scrubbing in time. Mrs. Jones had come in to prepare lunch and dinner as always. She would leave cold meat and bread for toasting out for the following day’s breakfast. Sometime today, she would go into town and shop for the ingredients that were needed in the kitchen.

  Eliza threaded the strand of twisted wool through the orifice and positioned her foot on the treadle. A carded tuft of wool in one hand and she began to treadle, drawing the twist into the wool and letting it wind onto the bobbin. Her heart filled with delight. Spinning was soothing to her soul. She spun several handfuls before securing the yarn and brushing the wool from her apron. She swept up the mess and shook her apron outside, letting fly small bits of fluff into the air. She then gathered up the hank of yarn she had taken off the bobbin and set it to soak in a basin filled with warm, soapy water in the laundry room. She stared about her, trying to think of what to do next and decided to make some scones for tea.

  Cook had gone out, so she had the kitchen to herself. Flour, salt, leaven, cream from yesterday’s milk, the dough floured and kneaded and cut into circles. Into the heavy iron pan and into the oven. They would have scones for tea this afternoon. She dusted flour from her hands, scratched her nose and unknowingly deposited a smear of flour. Having finished in the kitchen, she went outside to rinse the yarn and hang it out to dry in the breeze.

  Across town, a different scene was unfolding.

  “Well, Penelope, we must have a ball.” Hadring Hall, the seat of Viscount Loughton, was alight in the sunshine that poured through its modern windows and filled Henrietta’s favorite parlor. Penelope lived in Lytchley but tended to spend much of her time there with the Darrows. She was quite comfortable, at the moment, ensconced within an overstuffed chair beside the window. Warm light fell on both girls and Henrietta let her shawl drop onto the back of her own chair.

  “I am bored to distraction and Father has said we might as well in honor of the new ’Lllllaairrrd,’ as grandpapa would have called him. Pity he is engaged, but I understand he has a brother who is not.” She sighed and added, “Younger brothers are a nuisance. He will either be in regimentals, or in cloth, or in law. Or worse, nothing.”

  “Maybe the Navy.”

  “Then he will be at sea for months on end…which might not be too bad.”

  “He doesn’t sound so terrible.”

  “It isn’t a choice for me – nothing but an heir. My parents have set rather high standards.”

  Penelope was silent. She, herself, would be lucky to attain the second son of a baronet. “Who else shall you invite?”

  “The Colletts and Stricklands, and I suppose the new curate, though he can be rather prosy. Still, one more male for dancing. Unless he doesn’t dance, then another for the card room.”

  “He seemed pleasant enough on Sunday.”

  “Mmmm. He was certainly working hard enough to be. Let’s see…what say you to the Dorringtons? Celia is a little young, but I understand she is out now and all three of the girls could come with their dear mama. Have you met her? Such an ideal gentlewoman!”

  “Will you invite the Earl of Tollingham?”

  “Oh yes, we must have Tollie! Such a dear, and he always dances with the wallflowers.” They discussed for some time other local families and the number of couples possible.

  “And Miss Denham, will she make up the party?” Penelope asked.

  Henrietta was silent for a moment and bit her lip. “I suppose she must. Father will insist. He and Mother will have one of their rows over it. It is tricky as I doubt she has an evening gown, and Father won’t think to offer, and even if he did, Mother would quash that idea. You have no idea the arguments they have over her – it is all I can do to stay clear of Father urg
ing me to take notice of her and Mother insisting that I leave her be.”

  “Why doesn’t your mother like her?” Penelope said very low as though Lady Loughton would pop out of the woodwork and overhear.

  “Mother doesn’t care for uncomfortable things and having a relative in need is uncomfortable. She knows she should do more for her, and yet does not want to spend any money away from me and herself. So, Eliza makes Mother uncomfortable, therefore Mother doesn’t like Eliza.”

  “I see.”

  “Still, I wonder if I can offer her an old dress - one that is old enough as to not anger Mother and yet not so old that it might offend my cousin.”

  “Oh, perhaps I could lend her one.”

  Henrietta rolled her lovely eyes. “Penelope, my dear, you are easily four inches taller, and four inches smaller in the bust than she. No amount of corseting will change her figure enough. She and I are more of a size, though she is a small, compact little thing. I do have two or three old gowns she is most likely handy enough to alter, but how to offer them?”

  She stood up and ran up the stairs to her room, Penelope in tow. Kneeling by a trunk she said, “Ring for my maid, would you?” She sorted through the trunk, laying gowns in piles. After sorting through them, she chose three and set them on the bed. Then, leaving the rest strewn around the room she turned to her maid.

  “Hatcher, wrap these for me, and ask Ambrose to bring the gig around to the front. I am to call on Miss Denham.” She turned to Penelope. “Well, get your shawl, tie your bonnet. I am off to see Miss Eliza Denham.” She settled her own bonnet on, careful to ease it over her hair so as not to disarray it. Then, she tied it jauntily under one ear.

  “And I?” Penelope asked. Imitating her friend and tying her bonnet under the opposite ear.

  Henrietta hesitated. “No, I fear I must set you down in Lytchley by Dimmits. I will return for you after my call.”

  “Oh, that will do for me. Dimmits, Jr. will show me the new fashion plates, and perhaps they will have some new bolts of cloth. I was hoping to get Mrs. Delaney to make up another dress for me. I do need some ribbon for my blue bonnet, too. Perhaps I should take it with me.” She went in search of her bonnet while Henrietta finished preparing to leave.