Chapter 12
Twelve
La! Look at all of those windows!” Rose turned in her seat to better look out of the carriage window. “The taxes on Redbridge must be enormous.”
“Rose!” Alex tugged on the girl’s dress to plant her back in the coach seat. “Do not say anything like that once you exit this vehicle.”
A day and a half with Rose reminded Jane that neither she nor her older sisters had a typical girlhood.
By the time she and George were of an age to care about fashion, the plates in their mother’s collection were years out of fashion.
Though Isabel’s friendship provided some gossip and frivolity for the sisters, it did not compare to Rose’s friendships from school.
Frankly, Jane could not fathom having a dozen friends.
Though many of the stories Rose told were less than kind, so perhaps they were not such good friends after all.
The slang affections must be from these so-called friends.
Jane hoped Rose’s constant use of the word “La!” always with an exclamation point, would fade in time.
“No wonder the late Duchess’s cousin bragged so much. The Duke must be exceedingly wealthy. La! Jane, can you believe all of this will be yours?” Rose earned herself another chiding from Alex.
Jane could not take her eyes off Redbridge House.
“House” was the most inaccurate term, in the same way calling the Vatican a parish church or the ocean a pond.
The red brick building rose three stories with twenty-six windows facing the drive.
That did not even count the wing that sat to the west, connected from the rear of the mansion.
Rose’s comments, though vulgar, were mostly correct.
Only this would not technically be hers, the residences would always be his.
Phil took Jane’s hand. “Overwhelming, isn’t it? I thought The Willows was huge until I came here. You can fit all of Terrace Hall, The Willows, and Kellmore inside. I exaggerate. Perhaps not all, it is difficult for me to calculate. But it seems that way.”
“I did not understand when you described last year’s house party and the difficulty you had keeping track of the guests. I couldn’t picture a place so vast.” It would take Jane weeks and a map to find her way about.
“Wait until you see the library.” Phil nodded to the front door. “Look, Lady Anne with the staff to greet you. We must have arrived before Richard.”
Jane smoothed down the brown travel dress. She was not in any state to meet the Dowager Duchess of Aylton, no matter Phil’s description of the kind woman. The coach stopped directly in front of the doors, leaving Grandfather’s coach to park to the side. That was not the correct order of things.
Grandfather was an earl.
A footman opened the door. Philippa exited first, a firm grip on Rose’s arm who followed, hopefully too awed to speak for a time. Alex stepped down, leaving Jane last.
Lady Anne swept forward, “Philippa, Alexandra.” She clasped the eldest sisters’ hands in turn. “And you must be Rose.”
Rose managed a perfect curtsy and a “Your Grace.” Otherwise, she looked dumbfounded.
The Dowager turned her attention to Jane and held out both arms, taking Jane’s hands in hers. “And you must be Jane. It is my honor to meet you.”
To Jane’s surprise, the woman curtsied to her. Jane froze, unsure what to do.
In a low voice, Lady Anne said, “Very slight curtsy, my dear. I know you will not be duchess until tomorrow but I want the staff to understand that I know you are the mistress of Redbridge House.”
Jane dipped her head. Lady Anne smiled and looped her arm through Jane’s. They swept past Jane’s sisters and her grandfather, who had exited his carriage, to the twin lines of waiting servants. There had to be at least twenty.
“These are only the senior servants. They will do a full review when my son arrives.” Turning to a neatly attired woman whose years of work showed in her graying hair, Lady Anne said, “Mrs. Harding, your housekeeper.”
The housekeeper curtsied. “Her Grace, Lady Anne has asked us not to overwhelm you today. So I present only Mr. Hannover, Redbridge’s butler, and Mrs. LaRue, our cook.”
Jane acknowledged the upper servants, glad she would not need to learn everyone’s names today.
“May I inquire, did you bring your own lady’s maid with you?” asked Mrs. Harding, casting an eye toward Mrs. Green, who stood with grandfather’s valet near the coaches.
This was hardly the time to explain she had never had one in her life. “No, I did not.”
Mrs. Harding nodded. “Lady Anne brought two potential abigails for you from Town. You can meet them after you are settled in. I hope one will suit.”
“Come, I’ll show you your rooms. The staff will show the earl and your sisters to theirs.” Lady Anne led Jane away as if they were the most particular of friends with years of history.
Jane recalled her curtsy to the Dowager Duchess at the ball she attended on her first and only season. She had not imagined then that Lady Anne could ever act as a mother hen. Not that she particularly minded the openness. At the top of the grand staircase, they turned off to the left.
“This is the family wing, it is the smaller of the two wings. The late duchess preferred a set of apartments in the guest wing that several kings of England have been rumored to stay in. None during my time, of course. She refused to stay in this wing at all, and I am glad of it. One of the problems with entailed residences is one can never quite be rid of the memories no matter how much we paint and paper.”
Peculiar arrangement but fitting based on what she had been told of the late Duchess. Phil had not liked the woman at all, and not just for publicly exposing Alex’s wooden friend Peggy in the cruelest way possible.
Lady Anne opened a door into a small sitting room, and a warm fire glowed in the fireplace.
“Your rooms have not been done over since I was Duchess of this house. I had the old paper removed and everything painted in white, so you may easily decorate as you choose. I am afraid the blank canvas is rather stark. I added a few of my favorite paintings here and in your other rooms. We can change them out if they do not suit.”
Other rooms? Choose to decorate? The expense. Jane searched for words. “The white walls make the room seem light and airy. There is no need to apologize.”
A look of relief passed over Lady Anne’s face. “This door leads to your bedchamber.”
Jane gasped at the immense room. The walls were also a creamy, warm white, and the faintest smell of lavender swirled about the air.
The bed was larger than the one she’d shared with George.
She was sure that she and all her sisters would fit in it quite comfortably.
Another fireplace worked to warm the room.
Two windows looked out upon the gardens and a hedge maze.
Lady Anne opened another door. “Your dressing room.”
Two maids stopped emptying Jane’s trunks and slipped out of a small door.
Jane tipped her head at their exit. “Where?”
“Servants’ passage.” Lady Anne walked to a larger door. “And your private bathing room.”
A large white tub sat in the room. Lotions and soaps lined a shelf along with towels as white as new snow. “Alex, I mean Alexandra, would love this room.” Jane gasped and turned to face her guide. “I forgot to ask to have a bath drawn for her.”
Lady Anne smiled. “Philippa had baths on her list of preparations for your arrival. Your sisters have been seen to. Yours can be readied as soon as you wish.”
“You have thought of everything.” Jane took in more details — finely carved furniture, soft rugs, lovely paintings—as she returned to her bedroom.
“I am sure there are many things I have forgotten.” The dowager walked around the bed. “We installed a bell-pull system here. If you pull this cord, a bell rings in the servants’ room below stairs, and someone will come. Mrs. Harding will show you the others.”
The largest door in the room opened, and Phil entered, followed by Rose. “What do you think? Do you feel like a duchess yet?”
Jane turned to take in the room. “I believe all this is fit for a queen.”
Rose walked past Lady Anne into the dressing room. “Your dressing room is as large as my room at Kellmore.” She continued her way around the room, exploring. Opening empty drawers. “And you have your own private bath and sitting room. No one at school will believe me.”
Rose opened the one dark paneled door Lady Anne had not and quickly shut it. When Rose turned to face her sisters, a deep blush covered her face.
Phil laughed. “That is what you get for opening doors you should not. You are only lucky the Duke has not arrived yet. He would not have been pleased with the intrusion.”
It took Jane only seconds to puzzle out what Rose had discovered. The door led to another bedchamber. His bedchamber. Jane’s face burned as Rose’s did. Of course, his chambers would be there, as she knew they would be, but seeing the door made her future all too real.
The sun had long set when the carriage turned into the long drive of Redbridge House.
“At last,” said Michael, echoing Richard’s sentiments.
Before reaching the mansion, the carriage turned into a smaller drive and stopped in front of a two-story cottage.
Lightwood looked out the window. “This is Redbridge? Awfully shabby. If you ask me.”
“No one asked your opinion of the dower house, Lightwood. This is where we are spending the night. As I want no innuendo later from you or anyone else about why I married Jane, and she is preparing at Redbridge House.” Richard exited the carriage.
Two footmen stood at the door of the dower house. His mother had received his message.
Lightwood tumbled out after the Duke. “You promised I could speak to my daughter.”
“I promised to ask her if she was willing to speak with you. I said you can see her. However, that may be from afar.”
“Blackguard!” Lightwood lunged for Richard, who sidestepped.
A footman grabbed Lightwood by the arm.
“Lightwood, I will have you restrained if necessary.”
The carriage, with Michael inside, pulled away.
“Where is he going? My things are inside.”
“The Viscount is going to see his wife.”
Lightwood harrumphed and shook off the footman’s hold. “At least tell me you intend to feed me.”
Food. If he had mentioned supper earlier, he might have avoided some of Lightwood’s avarice. Richard nodded to the dower house. “The sooner we are inside, the sooner you will eat.”
As planned, trays had been sent over from Redbridge.
There was no need to have an undercook prepare a separate meal here, when they would be busy preparing for the wedding.
Lightwood, of course, found reasons to complain.
Richard ignored them, his mind on Michael’s errand to speak with Jane.
If he could take back his word, he would refuse Lightwood the opportunity to speak with his daughter at all, as he was sure nothing kind about any of the daughters, other than Rose, could come out of the man’s mouth.
Lightwood wasn’t overtly cruel. But he was not kind either.
Rudeness disguised as truth, when the words were nothing more than a poor opinion.
Richard had spent four years married to a woman who operated in the same way, cruelty masked as honest opinion.
He knew the damage words inflicted on the soul.
Had he not had Michael as a friend and confidant these last years, Richard would live in a constant sea of doubt created by his former wife’s half-truths.
Did the man speak to his daughters in such a way?
With supper finished, they retired to the parlor.
Richard read through the newspapers that the footmen brought over for him.
He looked at the clock, the minute hand inched along.
He should have spoken to Jane himself. Make her understand why bringing her father was necessary and how he would always protect her from the man.
Lightwood finished his meal and complained about the fire, the chairs, and the view. The clock hands slowed their turn about the clock face.
What the devil was taking Michael so long?