Chapter Thirty-Four
England was going to be a very lonely place for Céleste. France had been, but there was something sharper in the loneliness she’d felt since their arrival in Portsmouth. She wasn’t merely alone; she was also heartbroken. It was a piercingly painful combination.
Aldric had made the journey on horseback alongside the carriage, just as he’d said he would.
The only time he’d ever joined them was during a spot of particularly bad weather, the morning of the second day of their journey.
And he’d not said a word to any of them.
Adèle had been content simply to sit on his lap.
If she’d noticed he was not talkative, she hadn’t seemed bothered by it.
But Céleste’s heart continued to break. She’d regained her ironclad control of herself and was outwardly calm and collected. No one would guess she was shattered inside.
“Is this tonton Aldric’s home?” Adèle knelt on the carriage seat looking out the window.
“It is, ma poupette.” Céleste turned to Mrs. Sommers. “She asked if this is Lord Aldric’s home.”
Mrs. Sommers nodded. She had shown herself to be a pleasant companion. Even Adèle seemed comfortable with her. But Adèle not understanding English was proving a very real barrier.
Once Henri and Nicolette returned—Céleste refused to believe they wouldn’t—Adèle could live with them.
She would need a French-speaking governess who also spoke English so she could help teach Adèle the language.
But Henri’s finances were extremely strained, making the hiring of any additional staff likely impossible.
With those warring realities refusing to leave her thoughts, she’d formulated a plan for herself.
She would find a position and send Henri and Nicolette money to offset the cost of caring for Adèle.
It would mean she herself wouldn’t be with her family.
She wouldn’t be free to join in the Gents’ gatherings or the London Season where her friends would be.
She would be alone, but Adèle wouldn’t be. There was comfort in that.
The carriage came to a stop at the top of the drive. The impressive facade of Norwood Manor loomed over them.
Céleste pulled on her blue cloak, tying it around her neck. She knew the cloak wasn’t the tender and personal offering she wanted it to be, but Aldric had thought of her. She was often overlooked and forgotten, but he had remembered.
A footman opened the carriage door, and they all stepped down.
“My good friend and his wife are likely to arrive in the next day or two,” Aldric said to Mrs. Sommers. “Once they do, I will make whatever arrangements you need to return to Portsmouth.”
She would be in an odd position at Norwood during those two days, neither guest nor servant. But she seemed to sort out the situation very quickly and kept a bit removed while not disappearing entirely.
Aldric’s gaze hovered on Céleste for a moment. Her heart, as foolish as ever, leaped in her chest, whispering of hopes and dreams she was working very hard to pretend she’d never had.
His eyes shifted to Adèle, and Céleste could breathe again.
The little girl set her hand in his. “Tante Céleste says this is your house, tonton Aldric.”
“It is.” There was a touch of very tender pride in his voice. He obviously liked Norwood Manor and felt truly connected to it.
It was a very fine home, with lovely grounds in a very beautiful area.
Céleste had met a few of his neighbors during the house party two years earlier.
Lord and Lady Grenton were friendly and neighborly.
The Beaumonts, a French couple with a neighboring estate, had allowed Céleste to stay with them for a time during that house party.
Perhaps she would do well to call on them again. In fact, if she stayed at the Beaumonts’ home instead, then Mrs. Sommers could return to Portsmouth sooner rather than later. She suspected the woman would appreciate that.
“Can we go see the flowers?” Adèle asked as she walked with Aldric through the front doors of his house. “I love flowers.”
“Perhaps before you go to bed tonight we can go into the glass room and see the flowers there. But it is too late in the day for walking around the grounds.”
“We could see the other flowers tomorrow?” Adèle asked.
“I would love that,” he said.
They continued walking across the entryway and toward the grand stairs. Neither of them looked back at Céleste. Neither of them seemed to even notice she wasn’t keeping pace with them. She clutched tight to the handle of her violin case.
A footman had seen to the portmanteau they all shared, no doubt confused that there was only one but too well trained to say a word. Aldric had taken only a couple of steps up the staircase when a voice interrupted.
“You weren’t expected back for a little while yet. Was France not to your liking?” Aldric’s older brother, Crofton, now the Duke of Hartley, stood in the doorway of what Céleste remembered to be the drawing room.
Aldric watched his brother with clear confusion and obvious displeasure. “What brings you to Norwood Manor?”
“I like to look in on all my estates,” Crofton said with a smirk of satisfaction.
Norwood was Aldric’s home, but it did technically belong to the Duke of Hartley.
A little boy, likely about eight years old, peeked out from behind Crofton.
His eyes lit with excitement. “Uncle Aldric!” He darted past his father and threw himself against his uncle’s legs, precisely as Adèle so often did.
Aldric hunched down in front of the boy, without letting go of Adèle’s hand, and smiled broadly at him.
“Roderick. I have not seen you in ages.”
“Did you miss me?” the boy asked.
“Always.”
Roderick wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck. Adèle leaned against Aldric, and he set his arm around her.
Céleste had to look away. This was the sweet, kindhearted, caring Aldric who had so thoroughly captured what little bit of her heart hadn’t already been his.
These were the moments that let her imagine tender interactions like this spilling into the future, both of them leaving behind the difficult families they were born to.
A gentleman accompanying his friend’s sister.
“Where is the rest of your party?” Crofton asked, eyeing Céleste with a look of suspicion she didn’t care for at all.
“Mrs. Sommers has been with us and will remain with us until the Greenberrys arrive, which should be very soon.”
Crofton looked disappointed to hear that the proprieties had been seen to. It did not speak well of his character. But it also was testament to how wise Aldric was to have made these arrangements.
“It would be helpful, Aldric, if in the future you informed the staff of whatever home you’re staying in that you have invited visitors. It’s rather thoughtless not to give them warning.” Crofton spun about and returned to the drawing room in a huff.
Aldric’s attention was entirely on the children once more. “Adèle will be staying in the nursery while she’s here,” he said to Roderick. “And I’m certain she doesn’t remember where it is, having been so tiny when she last visited.”
“I’m staying in the nursery too,” Roderick said.
“Let’s show her.” Aldric stood and offered his free hand to Roderick. He walked up the stairs, each hand held by one of the little children. Roderick excitedly told them both all about the nursery, though he did so in English, and Adèle wouldn’t understand a word.
Céleste stood at the base of the staircase. She watched them climb ever higher and ever farther away.
Only Mrs. Sommers remained. Céleste turned to her with as content an expression as she could manage.
“Please, see yourself settled and have something to eat.” It was odd speaking in English even after having done so when talking with Mrs. Sommers for two days.
“I’m certain I’ll be shown to whatever room I’m meant to use, and I’ll stay there until supper. ”
Mrs. Sommers nodded and left with a maid.
Céleste looked around the empty space, unsure what she was meant to do.
The housekeeper, who would usually have shown a guest to whatever room they were meant to use, had disappeared when Crofton had made his appearance.
The maid who accompanied Mrs. Sommers had only been passing by as a matter of coincidence. There was no one left.
I can sort things out on my own. She’d done so before.
She tightened her grip on the handle of her violin case and climbed the stairs. She remembered how to reach the room she had used during the house party two years earlier. She would simply go back there. If her assumption proved erroneous, she could move to whichever room she was assigned.
The room she returned to seemed well enough prepared for a visitor, making hers a good guess.
She didn’t know where their portmanteau had been taken, but it wasn’t this room.
Likely it’d be placed in Aldric’s, he being the master of the house.
But that meant she didn’t have a comb. She did her best with her fingers and the few hairpins she still had.
Without a change of clothes, she would look quite a sight sitting at a fine table, even if she managed to salvage her hair.
No one came by to look in on her or tell her she was in the wrong place. By the time she arrived in the drawing room in anticipation of supper, she’d begun to wonder if anyone remembered she was there. But the Benick brothers were in the room already.
Crofton had changed for dinner. So had Aldric. He, of course, had a great deal of clothing here at his house. He clearly had a comb, as his hair was not the finger-tousled mess that hers was.
Heavens, she felt awkwardly out of place.
They were soon situated at a finely laid table, the largest and most sophisticated offering of food she and Aldric had received in quite some time.
She was hungry yet somehow had very little appetite.
That was what came of wallowing in one’s emotions.
She needed to sort herself out and quit worrying over what might have been and what could be and what she impossibly longed for.
She found her voice once more after the second remove and spoke up during a brief respite from Crofton’s recounting of all the incredibly important people he’d seen in London.
“I mean to send a letter to Eu Plate. The Beaumonts very kindly allowed me to stay with them when I was last in England, and I’m hopeful they will do so again.
” For a moment she wasn’t certain if she’d spoken in French or English.
Her companions spoke both languages, so it didn’t overly matter.
She simply didn’t like feeling so unsure of herself.
“That will allow Mrs. Sommers to return home even if it takes the Greenberrys another day or two to arrive.”
“What about Adèle?” Aldric asked.
She was grateful her niece had such a fierce champion, and his concern for her was touching. However, the fact that he didn’t look disappointed that Céleste would be gone and made absolutely no effort to convince her to stay only drove pain deeper into her heart.
“With Lord Mowbary here”—she thought it best to address Crofton and his family by their titles when speaking of and to them—“I think Adèle would be happier remaining in the Norwood nursery. She would have a friend.”
Aldric nodded. “A wise plan. The Beaumonts should be able to make room for you quickly.” He returned to his meal.
That was to be it, apparently. Until that moment with the ice of his rejection wrapping itself around her, she’d told herself she hadn’t been so entirely mistaken in thinking that some tenderness had been growing between them, simply more on her side than his.
But he wasn’t sorry to see her go. The entirety of his anticipated sorrow was for the fact that Adèle might leave with her.
“You would likely do best to ask the Beaumonts if they would be willing to make room for your niece,” Crofton said. “She’ll need to join you once Aldric has departed.”
Departed? She looked at Aldric and saw that he appeared confused as well.
“I have told you of no plans for travel,” Aldric said. “And even if I had them, Mlle Fortier and her niece would be welcome to remain here for as long as they needed.”
“Ah, but you don’t have the right to extend that invitation, do you?”
“I most certainly do. This is my home.”
“Father gave you use of it.” Crofton’s mouth curved in a look of arrogant satisfaction. “But he did not make it binding in any way. Not on me. I assure you, I have thoroughly looked into the matter. Now that I am the Duke of Hartley, Norwood Manor is mine.”