Chapter Forty-One
When Tim brought yet another letter from London, Cynthia’s heart fell. These missives never contained good news. She tried to remain cheerful as she patted Sam and gave Tim a penny, but as soon as she could, she closed the door and fled upstairs to read it in private.
Her misgivings were justified.
My dearest Cynthia,
You were right to delay the reading of the banns, for I’m afraid my absence will be a protracted one.
You know that my brother died in an accident (falling from a horse, as it turns out), and I am now the fifth Earl of Doncaster. There has been a deal of official paperwork to wade through with the Lord Chamberlain, before I could even begin to sort out my brother’s business affairs.
This is a burden I neither wanted nor ever envied him.
But whether I will or no, I am now the person responsible for the family estates.
My brother, I’m sorry to say, has run us into heavy debts.
Even if I am able to settle the most pressing, it will take several years of careful husbandry to extract us from them all.
My unfortunate brother’s funeral having taken place, and the Lord Chamberlain being satisfied with my bona fides, the next step is for me to go to Doncaster Park House, the family home in the Fens.
To help cover some of the debts, I must let it out, which will mean arranging for my sister-in-law move into the Dower house.
I must also look for a buyer for as much of the land as I can, though half of it is entailed to the title and cannot be disposed of.
For that half, I must set in train drainage works to render it more profitable.
It should have been done years ago, though how I am going to pay for it, I know not.
I must also sell outright the London townhouse and my brother’s many horses.
All of this will take time, I’m afraid. How long, I cannot tell.
What a situation to marry into, Cynthia! I am not who I was when I offered for you. I was then a carefree younger brother and could do as I wished. The title of Earl changes all that, I’m afraid.
The press of business is upon me, and I must end this letter in haste. Please give my best wishes to Ruby and Will, and tickle Teacup under her chin. All my love to you, dearest.
Yours forever,
Andrew
Tears rolled unchecked down Cynthia’s face as she held the letter against her heart.
You were right to delay the reading of the banns.
What a situation to marry into. I am not who I was.
The title of Earl changes all that. The press of business is upon me.
Andrew obviously had to end their engagement, but as a gentleman, he would not withdraw.
By pointing out the change in his situation, he was gently asking her to do it.
She understood. His life was elsewhere now.
He talked of us, his family home, his responsibilities towards his ancestral property.
Andrew Fielding, the itinerant artist, could affiance himself to a middle-aged nobody, but Andrew Fielding, the Earl of Doncaster, was, as he said, a different man.
His life was on his property, way to the east of the country.
How could he care for hens and kittens when he had a whole estate to look after!
She looked down at Teacup, who had followed her upstairs and scratched imperiously at the door to be let in.
“He’s right in saying he isn’t the man he was,” she said to the cat.
“He is now too important to be with us. He has duties we cannot comprehend. He has to leave us. We must accept that. We will be glad we met him, for he has given us memories we will treasure all our days. We will always love him, but he can never be ours.”
She dried her eyes, stiffened her back and went down to write to the man she loved that she did not hold him to their engagement.
My dear Andrew,
Thank you for taking the time to write. I can tell how fearfully busy you are. Please be assured that you need not in the least worry about us. Now you are the Earl, you have much more important things to think about.
I release you absolutely from our engagement.
As you say, it is just as well the banns were never read.
It is all for the best, after all. What if your brother had died after we were man and wife?
You would have been saddled with a Countess who was too old to ensure an heir.
And for my part, I fear I would have disliked leaving the village where I was born and raised.
I am happy here and cannot imagine living anywhere else.
I shall explain the situation to the vicar and his wife.
They will understand of course, and be the souls of discretion.
As for the rest, the gossip about our disgraceful behavior in the gig will die down, and people will think of me as an unmarriageable spinster who had a moment of madness.
I assure you, that is the face I present to them, sitting quietly in church on a Sunday.
I would ask you, though, Andrew, please not to return here. That would only renew their curiosity and make it harder for things to return to normal.
I hope you will soon overcome the difficulties you find yourself in. You know that if I could help you, I would. But I fear my poor abilities do not stretch that far.
I have not yet told them you will not be returning, but I know Ruby and Will would want me to send you their best wishes. Teacup misses you, of course, but she, like me, will soon grow into an old lady, and be happy for a warm bed and a comfortable chair by the fire.
Please let me know where you would like your art materials to be sent.
With all best wishes for the future, and my love, always,
Cynthia Rowley
She had to start over three separate times, as she couldn’t prevent her tears from falling on the paper and causing the ink to run.
After the second sheet went into the fire, she said out loud, “When did you become such a watering pot, you stupid woman? How many more pieces of paper do you think you can waste? And you call yourself a good housekeeper!”
With that stern admonition, she was able to write the letter with almost dry eyes.
But then she sat back with a frown. Did she have a direction for Andrew in London?
She went back to his letter to her, but all it had was a red wax seal displaying what she supposed were the family Arms, with Doncaster written across it in what she recognized as Andrew’s hand.
Earls of the realm had postal privileges, she knew.
After pondering for a minute, she decided she could simply write The Earl of Doncaster, London.
Surely it would get there. There couldn’t be more than one!
She was right about that. The letter did arrive safely, but because the direction was incomplete, the postmaster had to be applied to for the Earl’s address in London, so it took several days to arrive.
By then, Andrew had departed for Doncaster Park House, and since he had not said how long he would be gone, nor given the butler instructions to forward any post, he didn’t receive Cynthia’s letter until he came back, nearly a month later.