Chapter Two #2
In the kitchen, various servants were busy preparing supper.
Cook leaned over, checking the oven, and then stirred the simmering pot hanging above the fire in the hearth.
Spread across the workstation were dishes in various stages of preparation.
Winnie grabbed an apple on her way out of the kitchen and waved to the workers.
The well-treated staff were highly protective of her, and she could count on their support in every way.
Since she’d lost her dear brother and parents, these non-blood-related people were her family.
She counted on them, and they could count on her.
Another of the projects she could not wait to tackle was updating and improving the farmsteads of her land tenants.
Winnie would have loved to take the servants’ stairs, but she did not wish to risk her grandmother hearing of it.
Grandmama strictly upheld social rules and considered privacy inviolable.
The exclusivity of the servants’ using the backstairs leading to the third floor where they lived when on duty was one.
Winnie slipped from the kitchen into the dining room and quietly made her way to the grand stairway leading to the manor’s upper floors.
She’d begun her ascent on tiptoes when her grandmother’s voice cut into her progress.
“Edwina, is that you?”
Winnie froze. Did she dare run up the stairway to her bedroom, pretending she hadn’t heard?
She’d raised her foot, ready to make a dash for it, when she heard, “Lady Edwina.” Gerald, the butler, was calling her from the bottom stair. “Her ladyship will see you in the drawing room.”
Drat. With a last longing-filled gaze upward, she turned around and descended. “Thank you, Gerald. I will go to her now.”
It was the last thing she wanted to do. Lately, her conversations with her grandmother had become a battle of wills she tended to lose.
Grandmama was wily and sharp as a tack. She suffered no fools, and Winnie had trouble holding her own.
She loved her grandmother and knew the woman only had her best interests at heart, so consequently, Winnie had been reduced to subterfuge rather than argument.
It was the only way for her to exert her independence.
The drawing room was one of Winnie’s favorite rooms in her ancestral home.
Her mother’s hand was evident in every aspect of the elegant room, from the blue-striped wallpaper to the gilded furnishings.
The room beckoned, even more so with a cheery fire burning brightly in the hearth.
Above the mantel was an unconventional oil portrait of her mother.
Winnie glanced at the painting, fighting back the tears that instantly filled her eyes. She missed her mother immeasurably.
The painting of the red-haired woman was captivating.
Instead of the customary frozen pose of a seated, motherly, and demure woman, Wilhemina Sinclair sat sidesaddle on a gray stallion who reared, his forelegs pawing the sky.
The painting displayed the baroness as an expert horsewoman, conveying that Wilhemina was unafraid of whatever challenge she faced.
As a wife, she’d been both companion and advisor to Winnie’s father, a man who adored her to his dying breath.
The dowager baroness sat on the sofa and poured tea from a silver teapot. “Edwina, come sit so that we might chat.”
Winnie kissed her grandmother on her cheek and sat down.
Felicia Randolf Sinclair handed her a cup of tea and sighed. “Edwina, you left early this morning. Where did you go today? You were gone for hours.”
Winnie fortified herself with a sip of tea, stalling her reply. “Nowhere really, Grandmama. I took my usual path to the Thames, and I road Masquerade along the banks. It’s been so dreary and wet lately that I wanted to take advantage of a day of sunshine and enjoy the autumnal foliage.”
“Yes, I imagine it’s quite lovely outside.
Your father and mother always enjoyed a good, long ride when the weather allowed.
” Felicia served a lemon scone with a dollop of clotted cream and handed it to Winnie.
“Here, my dear, you must be exhausted from such strenuous activity.” The dowager baroness arched a delicate eyebrow, which she did when she suspected Winnie of not being completely forthcoming with the truth, which was often the case.
Sometimes, Winnie wondered if that brow ever relaxed and returned to a position of peaceful acceptance.
“Thank you, Grandmama.” Winnie took a bite of the lemony delicacy, glad that polite conversation would have to wait at least until she swallowed the bite of scone and sipped her tea.
“I have a little story to tell you. An introduction that will explain my news for you.”
Oh dear, this can’t be good. “Yes, Grandmama.” Winnie set her teacup down and turned an attentive face toward her grandmother.
“Growing up in Northumberland, I had a very good friend who lived at a nearby estate. As the years passed, Bess blossomed and was blessed with remarkable beauty, and I was quite jealous of her stunning countenance. I will add that she was not only a sight to behold, but she also possessed a clever mind and an infallible memory. Her chances to marry, well, in truth, were undeniably better than mine, but life is not always kind, as you know, Edwina, having lost your dear papa, mama, and your brother Bennet.”
Winnie’s puzzled gaze prompted a response from Felicia. “Never rush a story, my darling, when the ramifications will affect one’s future.”
My future? Wherever is she going with this? Winnie’s back stiffened, but she forced her lips into an accepting smile.
“Bess’s father’s gambling debts burned through the family fortune and left them destitute.
Her father committed suicide, her brother joined His Majesty’s army, and she was left with a mother who was capable of nothing more enterprising than wringing her hands.
Overnight, Bess’s flock of courters disappeared.
The estate’s assets were liquidated to cover her father’s debts, and Bess was driven from her home.
Only a bleak future would be hers because of this reversal of fortune.
A lesson your grandfather and papa assured you would never face.
I lost track of her for what seemed like a lifetime.
Then I ran into her on a visit to London, to my great pleasure. ”
Winnie’s curiosity was now piqued. She could not imagine how this Bess had survived her circumstances well enough for her grandmother to acknowledge her existence.
“To my delight, she appeared quite affluent, and we shared a cup of tea and reminisced about our lives. I will not bore you with all the details, but Bess confided that she was forced to do things a lady would never consider, but it had strengthened her and spurred her to succeed. She married beneath her to an older man, a colonel, and due to his spendthrift ways, when he died, she was again left with debt and a bleak future.” Her grandmother paused and sipped her tea.
“But my old friend had always been a clever girl. The only property she managed to retain was Lyon’s Gate Manor on Cleveland Row.
From her gambling-addicted father, she learned a valuable lesson, and she turned that lesson into a lucrative, thriving—though admittedly sordid—business.
Bess runs the most successful gaming establishment in London’s West End.
The rumor mills abound with stories about the place.
Her parties are notorious, and it’s said that no man or woman from the upper crust doesn’t vie for an invitation to attend her elegant soirees. ”
“Grandmama, this is a fascinating tale, but what could this possibly have to do with me or my future?”
“Ah, herein lies the nugget, if you will kindly let me finish.”
Winnie folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, Grandmama.”
“Bess confided one more thing to me, which garnered my attention and has remained with me. With great excitement, she shared a secret that she’d found her calling and a way to improve the world.”
“Surely you jest. How does a gaming den proprietor make the world a better place?”
“My child, you must learn patience.” Felicia’s eyebrow swooped up again to its loftiest point.
“I’m sorry, Grandmama.” Winnie sat up. This story was taking a worrisome turn, and she feared where it might lead. She sensed danger lurking in the shadows of her grandmother’s tale. The hair on her arms rose with impending dread.
Felicia sighed and took another sip of tea.
She cleared her throat, prolonging Winnie’s torture.
“Because of the recent loss of your dear parents, I was too acquiescent to your requests. I should have insisted you make your debut and attend the Season in London. When you refused, professing insurmountable grief, I should have taken a firmer hand and made you take your place among Society.” Felicia’s brow returned to the normal position on her face, and her eyes narrowed.
“I have not been able to confirm my worst fears; however, I am greatly concerned about your future. You are keeping things from me.” The dowager baroness’s eyebrow rose again, and she scrutinized Winnie, peeling away the layers of her deceit.
Is Grandmama a clairvoyant? Did her grandmother know she was the Lace Bandit? Oh, dear Lord, that is utterly impossible. No, she would have chained me to my bed and locked me in my room for the rest of my life if she had an inkling.
“I would never—” Winnie’s protest was cut off by a wave of Felicia’s hand.
“Do not interrupt. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment is patronized by men who are the scions of the finest families in the land.
They represent a pantheon of eligible bachelors.
” The dowager baroness shook her head. “I don’t pretend to understand this fixation on gambling, but it has become a way of life among the well-heeled.
This is what comes of too much idleness and lack of purpose, but this is neither here nor there in importance.
I have contacted Bess and arranged for you to meet with her to find a suitable husband. ”
“But I do not wish to marry.” Winnie knew her impulsive outburst and protest would not be well received, so she corrected it, hoping to soften the impact. “At least, not yet.”
“Fiddlesticks, this is not up for discussion. It benefits you and protects the baronetcy. The townhouse in London is being prepared to receive us for an extended period as needed. We will leave tomorrow, and Cousin Charles will accompany us and provide a safe escort. I have heard rumors of an alarming increase in highway robberies, by a woman, no less, and we should travel with a male protector.”
“But—”
“Edwina, I will not entertain any of your protestations. I suggest you go to your room, and you and Agnes pack for a lengthy stay in London.”
Winnie knew there was nothing she could say or do to sway her grandmother. Her fate, it seemed, was sealed—an unhappy marriage to a man who desired her fortune, not her heart.