Chapter Ten
Edmund
M eanwhile, Edmund had settled into his new life at Templeton Park. His habit was to rise before dawn, work for several hours in the grounds with the other men, and then walk up to the main house with his new friends to break his fast.
One particular morning, sitting at breakfast in the large kitchen with such a merry crowd, Edmund felt both relaxed and useful. The latter was a strange sensation, and not one that he had ever experienced in Bath. There, he was a figure who was recognized by all in the street, but as a useless ornament, the heir to the Templeton fortune and title, not as a man who had earned the right to anything through honest hard work or merit.
Edmund looked around the table at the smiling faces, the plain plates filled with fresh bread, cheese, and meat, and felt content.
I must tell Marianne more about my life here in my next letter. I had no idea work could be so much fun! And I am pleased every day to remember she has promised to wait before making any decision about being a governess. Oh, Lord, how I miss her! I wish I could have found the words to express how much I long for her in my last letter, but such sentiments are far better expressed face to face. There will be time enough for that when I return.
One of the men started ribbing Edmund about his work that morning. “You did not dig the hole for the fence post deep enough,” he said. “Could you not find the strength?”
“I tried my best,” Edmund said, “but ’twas slow going as there was a vast tree root blocking the hole and I had difficulty breaking through it.”
“Weakling!” another said.
“Do not worry Templeton,” the first man said, “we will make a proper man of you yet.”
Edmund grinned. “All the work I have already done digging ditches and putting up fences is making me feel more muscular.” He flexed a bicep ostentatiously.
The men started cheering at the sight and banged their cups on the table.
“Enough!” Cook said. “You men need to learn how to behave yourselves in my kitchen.”
The men all assumed expressions of contrition– and then burst into raucous laughter.
They are a merry bunch! I am enjoying working with them– and learning from them.
Then Mr. Grant appeared. “If I might have a word, Mr. Templeton, when you have breakfasted?”
“I will come now.” Edmund stood and followed Mr. Grant to his room.
“Pray sit down, sir,” the steward said. “I want to start by thanking you for all the help you have given us thus far.”
“I have done no more than your other workers,” Edmund said.
“You have done much more. ’Tis not only your physical labor that you have offered, but you have scrutinized many documents and suggested efficiencies and improvements.”
“Helping with the administrative paperwork of Templeton Park has given me much pleasure.”
I can scarce believe I am saying this, but ’tis true.
“Although,” Edmund continued, “I sincerely hope I have not been guilty of interference? ”
“No, quite the reverse,” Mr. Grant said. “Your contribution has been invaluable, especially as I have not been on top of things since my illness, which, thank the Lord, is lifting at last. And I have looked at the plans for the new workers’ cottages that you gave me yesterday. You have indeed been burning the midnight oil.”
“What do you think of the designs?” Edmund asked.
“They are inspired! These new cottages will have more light, and by virtue of their modern construction will be warmer and less damp than the present dwellings, many of which are sadly not fit for purpose, particularly for those workers with families.”
“I am glad! And I think ’tis important to site the cottages in a more suitable area, for it does not matter how perfectly they are designed if they are too near the river and will flood– oh, please accept my hearty apologies for babbling on, but I find I have developed a passion for design and long for the plans to become reality.”
“Well,” Mr. Grant said, “a letter came from your father this morning, to say he will visit us later this afternoon. I will show him your drawings.”
“Papa is coming here? How wonderful!”
And how terrifying. I wonder if he is still angry with me. I wonder, too, how much he told Mr. Grant of the real reason I came here– that I was in disgrace and had to be sent away until the gossip died down.
As Edmund walked back to join the men, a footman handed him a letter with a small bow.
’Twill be another from Mama, no doubt urging me to learn important lessons from my enforced exclusion from the season.
Edmund shoved the letter into the pocket of the rough jacket he had taken to wearing every day.
If my friends in Bath could but see me now, sporting these practical but far from stylish garments! I have not worn my usual tailored jackets and skin-tight pantaloons since my arrival, nor a fancy cravat, for such attire would have invited more teasing from the men, as well as being supremely impractical for the physical tasks I have been undertaking.
Edmund spent the rest of the morning working outside. In his next break, he remembered what was in his pocket and sat away from the others as he pulled out the crumpled paper.
Ah! This is not from Mama. ’Tis from Selina. The hand is similar, for sure, but Selina is wont to write the E of my name rather more flamboyantly. She started to do this when we were children, to tease me, and now it has become a habit. But wait! I must look inside, for the letter could be from Marianne.
Edmund tore open the seal and looked at the end.
Yours,
Mrs. Marianne Pembroke.
How formal! That did not bode well. But there was a whole letter to read before Edmund might be forced to give up hope.
Dear Mr. Templeton,
I thank you for your letter. ’Twas fascinating to hear about all you have been doing, and kind of you to share details of your new life with me.
That was more like it! Fascinating was an appreciative word, was it not? So was kind . Edmund felt exceedingly pleased that Marianne appreciated how diligently he had thrown himself into his new work.
For I am determined to make her proud of me, particularly as she was rightly disappointed by my recent behavior in Bath.
“Templeton!” came a shout. “Five minutes, then back to work. We must finish the fence.”
Edmund gave a cheery wave of acquiescence and returned to the letter.
Poor Nelson has been very ill, but George has worked his medical magic... I have recently received a letter from my friend Charlotte in the Lake District; she has found me a position in a household nearby. I am not at liberty to delay, as the family are keen to appoint a governess as soon as possible. First, I will travel to my parents’ house in Clifton, to sort out various books and necessities, then I plan to proceed to the Lakes by stagecoach.
Edmund’s heart sank– oh, why had Marianne not waited as she had promised?
Perchance she rates me very low, especially when compared to her husband, the gallant war hero.
Edmund stuffed the note in his pocket and ran back to his work. Never had he worked so fast or furiously. He dug holes, rammed in posts, and pounded with a hammer as if his life depended on it.
“Careful, Templeton!” one of the other men said. “You will split the fence post with that sort of treatment.”
How has everything gone so wrong? Did Marianne not realize that ’twould take time for me to adjust and make myself worthy of her love? For I certainly said as much– did I not?
Edmund put his hammer down. What had he said? He had asked her not to make a quick decision about becoming a governess, yes– but had he begged her not to leave because he loved her with all his heart, body, and soul?
But surely she must have known that any talk of love had to wait till I was completely worthy to seek her hand?
The scales fell from Edmund’s eyes.
Marianne can have no idea of the depth of my affection! She must be thoroughly confused, for all she has heard from me is a criticism of her choice of employment, which I described as “lonely drudgery”– and the arrant nonsense I spouted about desiring to remain unwed for years, if not forever.
Besides, a young woman in her position is not afforded the luxury of waiting; not all are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. How blind I have been, in so many ways. And what a fool I am.
“Edmund, my boy! There you are!” Lord Templeton stood beside the fence. “Mr. Grant said you would be out here. I must say I am impressed to see you doing an honest day’s work as part of a team. How does it feel?”
“It feels like something I ought to have done a long time ago, Papa.”
Lord Templeton looked him up and down. “And you are looking well! All this fresh air– and daylight– is agreeing with you.”
’Tis true about the daylight– it does make one feel more alive. Why, in my former Bath life there were sometimes days when I scarcely caught an hour or two of natural light by rising so late.
“Come back to the house with me, my boy. We should talk.”
Edmund and Lord Templeton walked to the main parlor where a footman served them with a glass of Madeira.
“I have seen your plans for the new workers’ cottages,” Lord Templeton said.
“I know they would be costly,” Edmund said, “but when I think of the conditions that people have been living in, it does not seem right– not when we have so much.”
“I heartily agree with you. And ’tis exactly for this sort of reason that I want you to work closely with me, for a younger pair of eyes and a more modern approach is what the estate needs and deserves.”
“I would be honored to work with you, Papa. I admire you greatly. And I apologize for not fulfilling my duty before.”
“Ah, Edmund, you are turning into a young man of whom I can be rightly proud.”
The two men drank in silence for a few minutes. They had not been in the habit of talking in this manner before, and to Edmund, and perchance to Lord Templeton too, the situation was feeling a little odd.
“But what is the news from Bath?” Edmund said. “How is everyone? I hear Nelson has not been at all well.”
“Nelson is much recovered, I am glad to say. ’Twas touch and go for a while, and there was one night in particular when the pug ran such a high fever that George was afeared he could do nothing for him. But he pulled through. ”
“And Mrs. Pembroke?” Edmund said. “I believe she is to leave the Crescent? Or has she already left?”
“She has plans to leave; however, Lady Barrington is not at all pleased and every day finds a fresh excuse to detain her, usually to do with Nelson’s health.”
Marianne is still in Bath! Oh, how I long to see her to put things right. And to tell her how much I ardently love and adore her and wish her to become my wife.
“Edmund,” Lord Templeton said, “we must arrange your return to Bath. I think you have done enough here for now and should come back with me tomorrow morning.”
“You want me to return? But what about my duties at Templeton Park?”
“Of course I want you to return! As for your duties, there are many business documents at home I would like to mull over with you, and we can search for an architect in the city to build these workers’ cottages of yours. We will be a team. What say you?”
“I accept! Joyfully!”
I have found my purpose at last– and now I am ready to follow my heart.
“Excellent news!” Lord Templeton said. “And there is another reason you must return to Bath forthwith. The Prince Regent himself is to attend a ball in the Upper Rooms soon, and your mama is most keen that all the family should be there.”
“How marvelous! ’Twill be wonderful to see everyone gathered together again. But Papa, would you grant me a small favor?”
“Name it, dear boy.”
“Would it be possible to visit Clifton on our way back to Bath? I have a call I wish to pay– and a question I must ask Mr. Oakley.”
Lord Templeton raised an enquiring eyebrow– and then a broad beam of approval spread across his face.
*
Marianne
That evening, Marianne was trying to reason with Lady Barrington.
“Aunt! There is nothing wrong with Nelson; he has almost fully recovered. I must be allowed to prepare for my return to Clifton, and thence to the Lake District. I cannot let Charlotte down, nor the family I am to work for. I have given my word!”
But Lady Barrington continued to refuse to countenance the suggestion that she would be able to manage Nelson in his convalescence without Marianne to aid her.
“And ’tis not only Nelson who needs your help,” Lady Barrington said, “for there is my knee to consider.”
“Your knee?”
“Yes. It has been troubling me much of late.”
Marianne regarded Lady Barrington most severely. “I saw you chasing after Nelson on the lawn this morning– your knee was not troubling you then.”
“The stiffness comes on very suddenly– and have I mentioned the excruciating pain?” Lady Barrington screwed her eyes up. “Ouch! Like that! As if from nowhere.”
From nowhere, indeed.
The next morning, Marianne and Lady Barrington were at breakfast in the parlor when Jane appeared.
“Excuse me, Lady Barrington; Madame Dubonnet is at the door.”
“Pray show her in,” Lady Barrington said. “Ah! Madame Dubonnet. Thank you for visiting.”
This is an early call. I wonder what she wants? And why is her servant carrying an enormous box?
“I have here your ball gown, Mrs. Pembroke. I hope you will be pleased with it.”
“My ball gown?” Marianne said. “Aunt! I do not understand. I was not expecting any further generous gifts.”
“As soon as I heard the Prince Regent would be attending a ball in Bath, I took the liberty of asking Madame Dubonnet to make you another frock.”
“’Tis cut from the emerald silk you so admired in my shop on your first visit,” Madame Dubonnet said.
“Yes, and will match your eyes perfectly,” Lady Barrington said.
“Perhaps I might see the gown on you?” Madame Dubonnet said. “There could be last-minute alterations needed.”
“Of course,” Lady Barrington said. “We will go up to Marianne’s chamber for the fitting.”
Soon Marianne had been helped into the dress and was standing in front of her mirror with Lady Barrington, Madame Dubonnet, and Jane around her. She moved gently from side to side, feeling the material of the bell-like skirt swish against her legs, while the beads and spangles on the hemline glinted softly.
Marianne imagined herself at the ball. But with whom would she dance? Edmund was far away at Templeton Park. Perchance Captain Wyndham would take pity on her, although now he was engaged, he should perhaps save all his dances for his intended.
“Well, what do you think of the fit?” Lady Barrington said to Madame Dubonnet.
“Very good,” she said, “although I believe Mrs. Pembroke has lost a little weight since I first measured her in January. I always allow for some adjustment in the bodice, so if I could just tighten this here– ah! That is better.”
Madame Dubonnet stood back to admire her handiwork, and then a roguish smile came to her face. “Sometimes I find my ladies lose weight when they are pining for a certain someone.”
Lady Barrington raised her eyebrows and smiled– while Marianne struggled not to show her annoyance at Madame Dubonnet’s over-personal remark .
’Tis not surprising my form has changed, for my appetite has deserted me of late and I have spent many nights tossing and turning, wondering what is to become of me.
Marianne stood up straight and regarded herself again in the mirror.
But all is well now. ’Tis merely last-minute nerves. I am to have a new life in the Lakes; all is settled, and I shall enjoy it. I am determined to.
“But what is this?” Madame Dubonnet said, looking around the room. “I see you are in the midst of packing.”
“Yes,” Marianne said. “I have accepted a position as governess with a family.”
Madame Dubonnet’s hand flew to her mouth a second too late to stifle her exclamation of horror. Then she recovered her powers of speech. “But Mrs. Pembroke! You will have no need to do this if you wear this beautiful dress at the ball, for every young man will be pursuing you. Why, the Prince Regent himself...”
Madame Dubonnet stopped dead, perhaps realizing that ’twas not quite appropriate to talk of the Prince Regent in so familiar a manner, nor to speculate as to what he might or might not do if he saw a beautiful woman at a ball.
“Marianne will shine like a diamond,” Lady Barrington said. “And for that reason, I know she will manage to delay her journey for a few more days– for ’twould be criminal to miss the ball of the season. Especially after Madame Dubonnet has gone to all this trouble with the emerald silk.”
Marianne bit her lip. Her wishes had been overruled yet again by the whims and caprices of others. She had been thwarted in her desire to control her own destiny; she had been defeated.
Yet should she not surrender gracefully? For all things considered, would it hurt that much to delay her journey by mere days? Hopefully her new employers would be understanding. And the dress was certainly very beautiful– and she did so love dancing.
Marianne nodded .
“That is settled, then,” Lady Barrington said. “And pray show us what else is in your box, Madame Dubonnet, for I believe I ordered matching gloves and dancing shoes.”
“Oh yes, and something for the hair,” Madame Dubonnet said. “Mrs. Pembroke’s curls are her crowning glory. See here; I have had a seamstress stitch this stunning green silk band, fully embellished with a floral design to match the decorations on the dress. And I have taken the liberty of adding a few extra spangles and some feathers.”
“The embellishments are simply stunning,” Lady Barrington said. “Marianne, you will shine brightly like a tropical bird, as I predicted.”
Marianne examined the delicate creation. “Thank you– ’tis enchanting.”
I dread to think how many hours the poor seamstresses must have had to spend on this– let alone the whole outfit. Ah! How fortunate I am.
“And now I must leave you,” Madame Dubonnet said.
“I expect there are many others in Bath who are desirous of your services,” Marianne said.
“Yes, indeed. I have had orders from ladies all over the city, but I promise you one thing– not one of them will outshine you.”
I cannot believe that is true– this must be the sort of flattery Madame Dubonnet is wont to dish out. But I do adore the outfit and look forward to wearing it.
“Jane,” Lady Barrington said, “could you help Mrs. Pembroke out of her dress while I go downstairs with Madame Dubonnet? Thank you, my dear. And dress warmly, Marianne, for we shall be on our way soon.”
“On our way?”
“Yes, to Molland’s. I thought we would go there for coffee this morning. Did I not mention this before?”
“No, Aunt; you did not.”
Madame Dubonnet and Lady Barrington swept away, and Marianne surveyed the room in dismay.
I had anticipated a morning at home to continue my packing .
’Twas proving very difficult for Marianne to decide what to take with her for her new life. She had no wish to offend Lady Barrington by leaving some of her new garments, but her trunk had limited space– nor would she have much need for fashion or flamboyance in the future.
Oh! I should have asked Madame Dubonnet to make me a sober and plain outfit, befitting the station of a governess– although I still have all my old mourning clothes I can use up. I wonder where they are?
“Jane,” Marianne said, “have you seen the gowns I had when I first arrived in Bath? My black, gray, and lavender frocks? I wondered if you had taken them to launder and press, for I have not seen them for a while.”
“Oh, no, madam,” Jane said. “All those gowns have gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“Not long ago, when you were out one day, Lady Barrington asked me to help her go through your wardrobe. We removed all the drab colors, boxed them up, and they have been given to the poor.”
Without asking me?
“I did notice some reorganization of my wardrobe but thought ’twas part of a general tidy up. I had no idea my possessions had been disposed of.”
I have been so distracted with myriad new outfits that I quite forgot about my mourning clothes.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Pembroke. I did not realize this was done without your permission. Lady Barrington said you were quite happy for her to cull your garments– or did she perchance say you would be quite happy for her to do so? I cannot remember.”
Marianne sighed. “No matter. I will have to manage the best I can. ’Tis not your fault, Jane.”
Very soon Marianne was racing down Milsom Street with Lady Barrington and Nelson.
“We need to get to Molland’s quickly,” Lady Barrington puffed, “before they run out of my beloved marchpane cakes. ”
“Is your knee not troubling you now?” Marianne asked innocently.
“Oh, no. As I explained before, it comes and goes. I shall probably suffer for this haste later in the day, though.”
Thankfully, there were still plenty of marchpane cakes left for Lady Barrington, and she was thrilled when she managed to secure her favorite table in the bay window upstairs.
“I always like to sit here,” Lady Barrington confided. “It has by far the best view of the street. And we are lucky– we have the room to ourselves, so Nelson is free to scamper about while we chat.”
Marianne peered down onto the street while the maid came to take their order. There were throngs of people shopping today, a positive riot of color– and so many adorable hats, many with the most delightful decorations.
I am going to miss the hustle and bustle of a city, for the family I am to work for lives in quite an isolated house.
Charlotte had done as Marianne asked and found her a family in need of a governess, but she had not been as enthusiastic about the whole business as Marianne would have liked. In her letter, she had written,
The family I have found will, I know, be kind to you, and their children are very dear– yet I still believe that being a governess is not your ultimate destiny. ’Tis not too late to change your mind, dearest Marianne.
“Ah!” Lady Barrington applied her quizzing glass to her eye as she peered out of the window. “Here is someone we know. Captain Wyndham! And the young lady must be his intended. I will go down and ask them to join us at our table.”
Before Marianne could stop her aunt and suggest that perhaps Captain Wyndham and his intended might have other plans, Lady Barrington had run into the street and accosted them.
“Come here, Nelson,” Marianne said. “You stay with me. Oh, ’tis wonderful to see you fully restored to health. I could not have born it if you had not survived.”
Marianne buried her face in Nelson’s neck to hide her emotions. Why was she so close to tears these days? And, sometimes, to anger?
As if I do not know! Oh, Edmund, how I long for you to return and take me in your arms. I wish I had never spoken to you unkindly– and I do not want you to change your character in any way, for I love you as you are.
But most of all, I wish you wanted to marry me. For I would accept you in a trice.
“What a shame,” Lady Barrington said as she returned. “Captain Wyndham and his intended are on their way to the Pump Room to meet with friends. But he was able to tell me some interesting news. I will ask for more refreshments and then tell you what I have discovered.”
Soon, more coffee and marchpane cake were brought to the table, and Lady Barrington fed Nelson sugary tidbits while she enlightened Marianne.
“I have it on good authority that many more officers from Captain Wyndham’s regiment will soon be arriving in Bath; ’tis the excitement of the Prince Regent’s visit that is acting as a draw. Anyhow, this means there will be positively hordes of eligible young men at the ball. Oh, my dear Marianne, I do hope I am not speaking out of turn, but would it not be marvelous if one of them could sweep you off your feet? And I do not mean simply for a dance.”
Aunt never stops with her scheming! If she thinks that I will have my head turned by an army officer at a ball, then she misjudges me. I am not that shallow.
Yet, was that not what happened once? For I met dear Richard at a ball. Oh, how muddled I feel! I do believe I have a megrim brewing.
“Do not look so disapproving, my dear,” Lady Barrington said, reaching out to smooth the lines between Marianne’s brows. She was always concerned to see a frown, and oft warned it could mar a beautiful face if worn frequently. “’Twill be fun for you to meet some more eligible young men; you could do with fresh blood to peruse.”
“But Aunt! That is not what I desire.”
“Well, what is? I know you say you want to become a governess, but I have never believed that for a moment. I think you are trying to punish yourself.”
“Punish myself?”
“Yes! You are punishing yourself for surviving when your husband– and the babe– did not. You might have cast off your widow’s weeds, yet you are still mourning.”
This is not fair! My aunt is completely impossible. And that reminds me.
“Who gave you the right to dispose of my old clothes? They will be useful to me as a governess.”
“You mean when you bury yourself in the middle of nowhere, and turn your back on fun and society? Do you seriously want to wear those dreadfully dull colors again– the ones you wore when first you arrived? The ones that did you no favors.”
Marianne sprang to her feet. “I will not stay to listen to this!”
“I know you think I am being cruel, my dear, but I have your best interests at heart. Why, I have even been pretending that Nelson was not fully recovered and that my knee was playing up again to get you to stay but a few more days so that you could attend the ball.”
“Where, no doubt, you want me to flaunt myself in front of these officers to encourage them to ask me to dance. Well, I am not going to! There is only one person I wish to marry, er, I mean to dance with.”
Lady Barrington smiled. “Admit it! You love Edmund and have loved him for a long time.”
Marianne felt as if she were simultaneously diving into a burning volcano and chiseling her way out of an icy glacier. Her resolve to keep her romantic sufferings to herself was finally broken, and she gave a great cry of anguish, then sat down and whispered, “Yes, I love him; I have always loved him,” before dissolving into a torrent of tears .
Lady Barrington rushed to cradle her niece, holding her tightly and patting her rhythmically on her back. “There, there, my dear, sweet child. I am sorry to have resorted to goading you in the way I did– but someone had to break through the carapace you had constructed around your feelings. I know how much you love Edmund– and I know you have loved him since the day you met. Even when you thought you were pretending to love him so that you would not be pushed to look elsewhere for a husband, even then I knew he had already captured your heart. Your aunt is not such a daft old fool as you think. Now, dry your eyes.”
“But what shall I do?” Marianne sobbed. “For he is far away, and I told him I hated him. And when Edmund wrote to me, he said nothing of what I had hoped to hear. Besides, he is banished to Templeton Park, who knows for how long? Perhaps forever?”
“I have it on very good authority,” Lady Barrington said, “that Lord and Lady Templeton sent him away not only as a punishment for his unfortunate high spirits in provoking a duel, but also because they wanted him to come to his senses concerning you, my dear. You are not the only person who has been denying their feelings and playacting, believe me! Both myself and Lady Templeton are fully convinced Edmund loves you just as much as you love him. Now, dry your eyes. Lord Templeton made a visit to Templeton Park yesterday, intending to collect his son and return today. What have you got to say about that?”
Marianne was entirely struck dumb.
A gigantic weight has been lifted from my mind– and I can hear a choir of angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus high in the sky above Molland’s. Oh, dare I hope there is a happy ending waiting for me after all?
*