Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Joan’s hands were still trembling as Peters helped her down from the carriage.
What have I agreed to consider? she thought wildly. What manner of arrangement have I walked into?
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Victoria standing in the doorway until her sister called out.
“Joan! You’re back!”
Joan looked up to see Victoria hurrying down the steps, and her heart clenched at the sight. Her sister’s face held more color than it had in days, and there was something like hope flickering in her eyes.
Victoria threw her arms around Joan’s neck, embracing her with unexpected fervor. “I was so worried! You left before dawn without a word.”
“Hush, dearest.” Joan returned the embrace, holding her sister tight. “I’m perfectly well. I merely had an errand to attend to.”
Victoria pulled back, studying Joan’s face with sisterly scrutiny. “Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… flustered. What happened?”
“Nothing of consequence,” Joan said quickly, stepping around her sister and heading toward the house. “Come, let us go inside. It’s far too cold to be standing about.”
The drawing room had been transformed in Joan’s absence.
Victoria, she realized with a pang of affection had removed all the holland covers and opened the curtains to let in the pale morning light.
A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate, and the scent of cooking food wafted from the direction of the kitchens.
“You’ve been busy,” Joan observed, pulling off her gloves and bonnet.
Victoria smiled—a small, tentative thing, but genuine. “I couldn’t simply lie abed all day. And I thought… well, I thought perhaps if I made myself useful, I wouldn’t feel so…” She trailed off, her smile fading.
“So what?” Joan prompted gently.
“So much like a burden.” Victoria’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
Joan crossed to her sister in three quick steps and took both her hands. “You are not a burden, Victoria. You could never be a burden. Do you understand me?”
Victoria nodded. “I made soup,” she said, clearly desperate to change the subject. “It’s probably terrible—I’ve never actually cooked before—but I watched Cook do it often enough that I thought I could manage.”
“I’m certain it’s wonderful,” Joan said warmly. “Shall we have some?”
They settled in the small dining room—one of the few rooms that was reasonably warm and habitable—with bowls of what turned out to be surprisingly decent vegetable soup and thick slices of bread that Victoria said had one of the maids to bake.
Victoria watched Joan eat with anxious attention, and only relaxed when Joan took a second helping.
“This is delicious, truly,” Joan assured her. “You have hidden talents, sister.”
Victoria flushed with pleasure. “It kept me occupied, at least. Gave me something to think about besides…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.
They ate in companionable silence for a few moments before Victoria set down her spoon and fixed Joan with a determined look.
“Where did you go this morning?” she asked. “And don’t tell me it was nothing of consequence. I know you too well for that.”
Joan hesitated, torn between her instinct to protect Victoria from anything that might worry her and her desire to include her sister in her plans.
“I had an idea,” she said slowly. “About how we might occupy our time here. How we might do something… meaningful.”
Victoria leaned forward, interest sparking in her eyes. “What sort of idea?”
Joan set down her own spoon and met her sister’s gaze. “Since we are to be here for some time—perhaps months—I thought we might use that time productively. I thought we might…” She paused, then said in a rush, “I thought we might teach the local children.”
Victoria blinked. “Teach them?”
“Reading, writing, arithmetic, history—all the things they deserve to learn but have no access to.” Joan felt excitement building as she spoke, pushing aside the complicated tangle of feelings about the Duke and his offer.
“Most of these children will never attend proper schools. Their parents cannot afford tutors. But that doesn’t mean they should grow up illiterate and uneducated. ”
She reached across the table and took Victoria’s hand. “Would you… would you like to help me with this? To teach the children here?”
For a long moment, Victoria simply stared at her. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—the first real, unguarded smile Joan had seen since the disaster with Julian.
“Oh, Joan,” Victoria breathed. “That’s a wonderful idea.
Truly wonderful. I would love to help. I am not as smart as you are but I want to help.
” Her smile faltered slightly. “But how would we manage it? Where would we hold the lessons? We cannot bring dozens of children here—the house is barely habitable as it is.”
Joan felt her cheeks warm as the memory of the Duke’s proposition flooded back. His hand on hers.
Be my eyes, and I will give you anything you need.
She suppressed a shiver and forced her voice to remain steady. “I will handle the arrangements. Don’t worry about that.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed with sisterly suspicion. “Joan, you’re hiding something. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing that need concern you,” Joan said firmly. “I promise, I will secure a suitable location.”
Before Victoria could press further, they heard footsteps in the corridor. Sarah, one of the maids, appeared in the doorway with a curtsy.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Sinclair, but a letter has arrived for you. From London.”
Joan’s heart leapt. “From our brother?”
“Yes, Miss. The post rider said it was urgent.”
Joan took the sealed letter, noting Damian’s familiar handwriting on the outside. Her fingers trembled slightly as she broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper.
Victoria moved to sit beside her, reading over her shoulder as Joan’s eyes scanned the lines.
My dearest sisters,
I write to you in haste, as my duties keep me constantly occupied. I trust this letter finds you both well and settled at Fairfax Manor. I know the house has fallen into some disrepair—please use the enclosed funds to make whatever improvements are necessary for your comfort.
I worry about you constantly. Joan, I know you will insist you are managing perfectly well, but please, allow yourself to accept help when it is offered. Victoria, my dear girl, I hope the distance from London is providing you some peace and respite from recent troubles.
I wish I could visit immediately, but my position requires my presence here for at least another fortnight. Lord Castleton has been asking pointed questions about the family, and I must navigate these conversations with considerable care.
There is news regarding the Earl of Aldridge that I feel I must share, though it brings me no pleasure to do so.
It seems the scandal surrounding his… situation has only deepened.
He has moved his mistress—Miss Hartley—into his London residence and insists upon keeping her there as his permanent companion.
His mother is beside herself with embarrassment.
His friends have begun to distance themselves from his company.
Worse still, this development has only intensified the rumors surrounding Victoria.
A few people are saying that she was wise to run from such a marriage, while others claim she drove him to seek comfort elsewhere with her cold indifference.
I am doing everything in my power to counter these lies, but I fear the gossip will not die down as quickly as we had hoped.
Joan felt Victoria stiffen beside her. She reached out and grasped her sister’s hand as she continued reading.
I tell you this not to cause distress, but because you deserve to know the truth of the situation.
Julian Hawthorne has shown his true colors to all of London society.
In time, his reputation will suffer far more damage than Victoria’s ever could.
We must simply be patient and allow his own actions to condemn him.
Please be strong, both of you. We will weather this storm as we have weathered all others—together.
I have enclosed what funds I can spare. Use them wisely, and write to me if you need anything more.
Your brother,
Damian
Joan folded the letter carefully and set it on the table. Several banknotes had been tucked inside—a generous amount, more than Damian could really afford to send.
She looked at Victoria, whose face had gone pale as parchment.
“Victoria—” Joan began.
“I am fine,” Victoria whispered.
“It was a blessing you didn’t marry that fool,” Joan said firmly.
Victoria nodded slowly, but her eyes remained distant. “I suppose you’re right. I suppose I should be grateful.” She laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. “I guess I am not cut out for love. I shall just live with you and my brother until I die an old maid.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Joan said sharply. “You are beautiful and accomplished. Any man would be fortunate to have you. The right man will come along—someone who will appreciate your kindness and love you as you deserve to be loved.”
“I hope so,” Victoria said, though her tone suggested she believed no such thing. She was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “Sister, have you ever thought about love?”
The question caught Joan off guard. She laughed—an awkward, forced sound that fooled neither of them.
“Love? At my age? Victoria, I am four-and-twenty. Far too old to be entertaining romantic notions. No respectable young man would be interested in a spinster like me.”
“You’re not old!” Victoria protested. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and kind. Any man would be lucky—”
“I don’t have designs on love,” Joan interrupted firmly. “I don’t need romance or marriage or any of that nonsense. I have you and Damian. That’s more than enough for me.”
Besides, she thought, love is dangerous.
The image of the Duke’s scarred face flashed unbidden through her mind—the intensity in his unfocused eyes, the warmth of his hand on hers.
She pushed the memory away firmly.
“Come,” Joan said, rising from her chair with false brightness. “Let’s finish this excellent soup you’ve made. And then perhaps you can help me begin planning lessons for the children. We’ll need to determine what subjects to teach first, what materials we’ll require…”
She kept talking, filling the silence with practical concerns and logistics, anything to avoid dwelling on Victoria’s question.