Chapter 14
Alice adored Heron House.
It was one of the best places in the world. And coming to Heron House in the evening was a study in how families really should be run.
First of all, the house along the Thames was a beacon of light and culture, poetry, paintings, art, and history. Everything about it reveled in what was good about humanity. The moment she stepped foot over the threshold, she could hear Laertes playing the piano.
She knew it was him.
Anyone who had ever heard Laertes play the piano knew when he was playing. There was singing as well: his wife, her voice rising high.
She could hear the murmurings of people reciting poetry and Shakespeare. And as she and Deimos headed into the long drawing room, her soul soared at the sight of the family, because they were all engaged in various activities which clearly gave each one of them joy.
The Briarwoods were that rare and almost impossible thing to find—a family that actually liked each other, not just loved.
Many families did love each other but couldn’t stand one another.
Many families could not wait to be out of each other’s company.
But the Briarwoods, as much as they loved to celebrate and to go out into society and revel in the theater, the opera, the ballet, parties?
They far preferred to spend their evenings at home with each other.
And Alice admired it.
At present, the Duke of Westleigh was sitting in the corner, his pen moving rapidly across the page as he no doubt worked on some speech. He looked half-mad in his intensity. The man must be furious about the speech regarding the Corn Laws that she had heard just this day.
She was so proud of the duke, though it was likely quite an odd thing for a young lady to say about such a powerful man. And she was equally proud of her brother, Cassius, who was sitting at the duke’s side, working with him.
Those two, she hoped, would indeed change the world somehow. And she was going to try to help them. But before she did, there was something that she and Deimos needed to say.
Deimos took her hand in his, and as they strode into that room full of people laughing and talking and doing the things that made them so happy, she drew in a breath.
This was going to be her family. This was going to be where she came to live. Oh, how her mother would be thrilled. And she would tell her mother soon.
But first, they had come here to share the news.
“Excuse me,” Deimos called. “Everyone!”
It took several moments for the room to quiet down and for them all to eventually swing their gazes in his direction.
“Yes?” Ajax called. “What is it, boy? Out with it.”
The Duke of Westleigh stood slowly, his eyes alighting upon herself and Deimos, and then his expression changed to one of deduction and understanding. Then he began to applaud.
And following suit, each family member seemed to draw the same conclusion as the duke, and so every member of the family stood and joined in on the applause.
“At last,” the dowager duchess exclaimed. “Clearly, you two have come to your senses. I did hear from Lady Upperton that such a thing was likely.”
Alice let out a cry of surprise. “Do you have a gossip network, Your Grace?”
She felt quite free with the older woman who had been so kind to her and who had, like Muriel, inspired her on this path.
“Did you tell Lady Upperton to say those things about us?”
The dowager duchess tilted her head to the side, her silver hair shining in the candlelight.
“My dear, I would never deign to tell Lady Upperton to say anything. She is a woman of intelligence and can make sense of the world on her own. It just so happens that she and I agree on a great many things. And I heard from her that you are quite capable.”
The Duke of Westleigh smiled. “As did I. You should come and sit by Cassius immediately. We need some assistance with writing out this bill.”
She beamed. “In just a moment, I shall.”
Deimos grinned. “You may have Alice in a moment, all of you. But first,” he began, “don’t you wish to make certain that our news is what you think it is?”
His father, Hector, and his mother, Priscilla, strode towards them.
“Dear boy, we do not need to be told. We can just look at you,” Priscilla said, “and know the answer. I’m going to be a grandmother within two years’ time,” she exclaimed.
But then she grinned sheepishly and added, “And if I’m not, it will be perfectly fine.
There will be no recriminations. I will adore you, Alice, as a daughter with or without grandchildren.
I have always known that Deimos would find the most wonderful of women. ”
She beamed at Priscilla. “I have to admit I have not thought about children just yet, but I’m sure that I will be up to the request.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, because the truth was the idea of having children with Deimos was wonderful.
The idea of having children who could be raised and supported in such a family was wonderful too. But she had a great deal of work that she had to do first.
Hector smiled at her as if he could read her very thoughts. “Don’t worry. Priscilla is excited, as am I. But we both know that you, my dear, are so much more than just a girl who is getting married. You are the reason why our Deimos is happy again, why he smiles.”
“Papa,” Deimos said, his voice rich with emotion, “you two gave me so much as did grandpapa. I was perfectly content—”
“No, you weren’t,” Priscilla said gently. “Don’t worry that you should hurt us by admitting the truth.”
He guffawed, not with dismay but more laughter. This family was so full of laughter!
“All right, Mama,” Deimos relented. “I wasn’t. It’s true. I had all the trappings of a perfectly pleasant life, but I knew that something was amiss. And Alice has shown me exactly what I needed.”
Laertes called, “Then let us celebrate.”
The dowager duchess cried out, “Hear, hear.”
And her son, Lord Zephyr, went to the fireplace and pulled the bell. “We must have champagne,” he declared.
“And dancing,” Laertes called.
And the next thing Alice knew, the chairs and tables had been drawn back and Laertes was playing a spritely reel. The couples immediately lined up and began dancing back and forth, bobbing up and down.
“I told you,” he said, “they’ve all been asking about this.”
“They seemed to know it would happen,” she marveled. “Even though I did not.”
“That’s because,” he began, “the Briarwoods always know when a marriage is going to happen.”
“So that means you knew too?” she said, whispering up to him.
“Not exactly,” he returned, wrapping his arm about her, gazing down at her with adoration.
“I hoped. How I hoped. But that doesn’t mean that I knew,” he said.
“We Briarwoods? The knowing is part of our blood. We know when the one we want is near. And I wanted you, Alice, from the moment I saw you eat cake, from the first time I saw you smile, and the first time I saw you laugh from across a room. I just had to make you understand that.”
She blinked, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry that I ever doubted it,” she said. “I suppose I just didn’t believe in myself very much.”
“And now?” he returned.
“Oh, I may have taught you a thing or two, Deimos, but you have taught me to trust myself, to believe in myself, and to go after what I want without hesitation. Nothing is going to stop me now.”
“Mama,” a voice called from the door, the note in her voice intense enough to cause Laertes to cease his playing.
Perdita Briarwood stood in the hallway, her face white, her eyes flashing.
The dancing stopped and everyone whipped towards Perdita.
Alice’s throat tightened, a wave of apprehension washing over her.
“What has she done, my dear?” the dowager asked, her usually easy face now grave.
She? Alice didn’t understand. She couldn’t make sense of it.
“I am so sorry. I hate to be the one to stop the joviality in celebration, but I do think that this must be addressed at once. This is going about London.” Perdita rushed into the room and handed the pamphlet to her brother, the duke.
Everyone was silent, waiting to be informed of what disaster had befallen them.
It could be war. It could be famine. It could be anything. There could be another attack in London or an attack in the North. Maybe there was a revolution growing in the streets. She certainly would believe that it was possible, given the events of the last two years.
But the moment the duke had the note in his hands, Perdita declared boldly, “Lady Minerva has acted, as you suspected she would. The family must prepare.”
Lady Minerva, her former betrothed’s mother? Alice shook her head, her mind rioting, struggling to understand what was happening.
All the family, as one, seemed to draw in a breath, as if they were readying themselves for battle.
The dowager nodded. “We knew this moment could come,” she said firmly.
Alice looked about the room, astonished to see them all growing ever more resolved.
But the Duke of Westleigh read the note quickly and then lifted his gaze. And he did not look at anyone else but Alice.
Her mouth dried, and her breath froze in her throat.
Deimos held her tightly, his own tension growing as they waited.
“What is it?” she at last managed, still confused. “Is it my mother…?”
“You will have to be strong, Alice,” the duke intoned, his gaze crackling with fury. “We must send for your mother to ready her for what is to come from this act of vengeance.”
“How bad is it?” the dowager asked. “As bad as we planned for?”
The duke nodded. “Possibly worse.”
“Worse?” Ajax bellowed.
Deimos’s father let out a growl. “Our meeting made us ready. So, whatever it is… We shall stand together.”
Deimos swung his gaze around. “You had a family meeting?”
Alice watched, stunned, growing increasingly apprehensive.
“Yes, my dear,” the dowager said, surprisingly calm. “We thought it pertinent.”
“Without me?” Deimos asked.
Priscilla gave him a gentle smile. “You were rather busy, my love.”
Alice let out a frustrated note. “I love you all dearly, but please! Can you all stop and tell me what you planned for or what has happened?”
The duke’s eyes flashed with an intensity she had seen not before.
His dark hair lined with silver was glossy in the light as he strode forward, his long cloak flowing out behind him.
And as if she sensed he needed a steadying hand, his wife, the Duchess Mercy, strode up next to him and placed her hand on his forearm.
“This will be hard to hear, Alice,” he warned.
“Tell me,” she urged, the strength of those coming together around her somehow making her stronger.
“No doubt, this pamphlet is being widely circulated about London.”
Perdita nodded grimly. “And it is quite unflattering.”
She swallowed. “What could anyone possibly have to say about me?”
“A great deal, it would seem,” the duke growled.
“Read it,” she said.
Perdita licked her lips. “Alice, I think it’s best if we—”
“No,” she countered, lifting her chin. “You have all taught me to be strong. Is that not so? The dowager duchess, when I was first hurt by the Marquess of Isleton? She found me and taught me to be strong. Deimos has taught me to be strong. I have taught myself to be strong. I am not going to shrink,” she affirmed, as if repeating it could make it so.
“Very well then.” The duke snapped the pamphlet open, and the room hung on his every word.
“‘It has come to this writer’s attention that there is a young lady in the ton who is acting not as she should.
Not with elegance, not with the decorum, not with the sort of behavior that marks an actual lady.
There had been suspicions, of course, about the family before, when her youngest sister took to the boards just recently and became a sensation, proving that scandal is clearly in the family.
“‘For what family could bear a daughter who would abandon her class for such low morals? Now, the sister is proving herself to be equally bad. She has been seen at several functions not worthy of her standing. But worst of all, she has been seen admitting a man into her parents’ house at night when she is not wed. And this is not even the most appalling aspect of it. The young lady, if one even dares call her that, has been seen masquerading as a man. She was spotted coming out of Parliament, only to slip into the coach of a young gentleman who is the nephew of one of the most important dukes in the land. This girl is a scandal. This girl is shocking and should be expelled from all good society, lest she corrupt the daughters around us. She is no doubt a woman of ill-repute and should be treated as thus.’”
The duke then fell silent and everyone mirrored that silence. Waiting for Alice to react.
Deimos’s body was rigid with fury. She could sense that.
But she wasn’t furious. She was oddly hollow.
She blinked. “That’s it?” she asked after another long moment.
The family gaped back at her.
“That’s all it has to say?”
The duke shook his head. “What do you mean, Alice?”
Alice drew in a shaky breath but refused to shrink. “Every bit of that is true,” she said. “There’s not a lie in it, except the cruel things she says about my blood and my family. But I am proud of everything I have done. I will not apologize.”
She turned to Deimos. “Of course, I will relinquish you if you wish. I will not force you to marry scandal. I will not force you to—”
He turned her towards him and pulled her into his embrace. “No,” he said, “I will never abandon you. I will never abandon…” He winced and held her tight as if he hated himself. “This is what I told you would happen,” he said. “I feared that regret would—”
“I don’t regret it,” she cut in, shocked by his pain. But then she pulled back and looked him up and down. “Do you? Do you regret it?”
He stared at her, shocked. “How could I ever regret being with you?” he whispered, but he was shaking. Shaking with fury. “But I have failed to protect you. It is the only job I have, and I have failed. I’m so sorry, Alice. So sorry.”
And despite her strength, somehow his own despair at his perceived failing cracked her heart. He did have regrets, no matter what he said.
And she had done this to him. And to her…mother.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “My mother,” she whispered. “Oh dear God, my mother.”
Her mother had given her permission, but surely her mother had never envisioned this. Her daughter all but called a whore in a pamphlet distributed to all of London, for all her friends to see?
Perhaps Deimos was right.
Perhaps there was a measure of regret in all of this. Perhaps regret was unavoidable.