Chapter Two #2
When the servants withdrew after delivering rhubarb tart, custard, and a small plate of preserved fruit, the conversation turned to talk of the estate, Parliament’s squabbles, and the latest absurdities of society.
But as the final course was cleared and the servants withdrew, Charlotte turned to him, her expression expectant.
She folded her hands upon the table. “Now, tell us what brings you to Thornbridge with such gravity in your eyes. Is everything all right? Have you gambled away your fortune?”
Henry gave a dry huff of amusement. “Given my disdain of the sport, the answer is an emphatic no. My situation is not as dire but concerning just the same.”
Thomas raised a brow. “Go on.”
“It concerns Amelia’s governess,” Henry said. “Miss Ford. Though that is not her real name.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Not her name?”
He nodded. “I learned only this morning that Miss Ford is in fact Lady Sophia Ashford, sister to Lord Ashford. She concealed her identity when she came to us two years ago. My housekeeper hired her under the impression that she was a gentlewoman of good breeding, fallen into reduced circumstances. Which, to be fair, was the truth at the time.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “The Ashfords? We have recently made the acquaintance of Lord Ashford and his lovely wife. The scandal involving the two families is widely known. Their marriage and subsequent restoration of the Ashford’s place in society was the subject at many dinners.”
“Yes, it’s not every day that a man disguises himself as a gardener in order to clear his father’s name,” Henry said. Not only had Sebastian Ashford pretended to be a gardener, he’d also managed to fall in love with his enemy’s daughter.
“All’s well that ends well,” Charlotte said. “They seem besotted with each other. Rose is a remarkable woman, especially given the truth about her father.”
“She handled it all with grace,” Thomas said. “But it must have been devastating to learn that it was her own father who murdered her mother, not Lord Ashford.”
“May he rest in peace,” Charlotte said. “The poor man.”
“Yes, it was a horrible tragedy that befell the Ashfords,” Henry said. “Miss Ashford’s brother has summoned her to London for the Season. Apparently, she convinced him to give her more time here. With Amelia. But she can no longer deflect. She gave her notice.”
Charlotte’s mouth curved in sympathy. “Her brother wants her to marry, now that their titles are restored. I cannot blame him. However, from my observations, Miss Ford—Miss Ashford—adores Amelia. I often see them out for walks, collecting seashells and pebbles. I cannot imagine it will be easy for either of them to part.”
“I spoke with her earlier today,” Henry said. “She wept. Leaving Amelia is like leaving her own child.”
“Oh, dear, how sad,” Charlotte said.
“She’s to leave within the fortnight,” Henry said. “I’m at an absolute loss as to what to do.”
Thomas poured a measure of claret into his glass. “I don’t suppose she imagined her change in her circumstances when she took the job.”
“That’s right,” Henry said. “In fact, Mrs. Bromley told me Sophia had suffered at the hands of her previous employer. She was only too happy to accept the position with us. From what she told me today, her childhood was less than ideal.”
“Meaning?” Charlotte asked.
“They were sent to live with their mother’s distant cousin. The Langstons. The children were treated like servants. And the baron was violent. I saw a scar on Miss Ashford’s hand that probably came from him.”
“Goodness me. What kind of man hurts children?” Charlotte asked.
“I cannot say,” Henry said.
Charlotte’s voice softened. “Henry, what will you do?”
He looked down into his glass. “Mrs. Bromley will help me find a replacement, I suppose, although Miss Ashford is irreplaceable. I doubt there’s another woman like her in Kent—or all of England, for that matter.
Amelia will be devastated. Miss Ashford’s more like her mother than governess.
In addition, I’ve neglected the child. Miss Ashford has raised her.
Thinking of separating them seems cruel.
Impossible even.” He shook his head. “But she cannot go against her brothers’ wishes. ”
Charlotte’s expression changed from mournful to scheming. He knew that look. His cousin had an idea. “Perhaps there is another solution.”
Thomas chuckled. “Careful, Montrose. My romantic wife is about to suggest something. Most likely outlandish.”
“Not outlandish. Not really,” Charlotte said. “You are in need of a wife. Is that not so?”
“Thanks to your father, yes,” Henry said wryly.
“He assumed you would marry Eleanor,” Charlotte said.
“As did I.” Henry lifted his glass of claret and took a sip. Hearing Eleanor’s name still hurt, even after all these years. An image of her lifeless body on the sandy beach played before his eyes. He pushed it away.
Thomas set down his glass. “It’s been over five years. Perhaps it’s time to choose someone to spend your life with. A mother for Amelia. A wife for you.”
Henry sighed. “It appears so.”
“I have an idea,” Charlotte said.
“You always do, dearest,” Thomas said.
“Perhaps Miss Ashford is the answer to all our prayers,” Charlotte said.
“Ah, here it is,” Thomas said.
Henry watched his cousin, unsure where this was going.
“You need a wife. Amelia needs a mother. Miss Ashford doesn’t want to leave Amelia. The solution is simple, really. You must marry Miss Ashford.”
“But they hardly know each other,” Thomas said.
“Is that true?” Charlotte asked Henry.
“She’s been with us since Amelia arrived, but no, I do not know her well. I have observed how good she is with Amelia, of course.”
“She is beautiful,” Charlotte said.
“True.” Henry took another sip of wine. “Clever too. Articulate. She would make a fine wife.”
“Does she have a dowry?” Thomas asked, always practical.
“Yes. Her brothers will offer a generous one.” Henry wasn’t sure how much it was but the money was not important. He had plenty of money of his own.
Charlotte smiled serenely. “Stranger matches have been made. You could do far worse, Henry.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “She’s right, you know. Miss Ashford clearly loves the child. Other women might not.”
Henry exhaled. “It would solve both our problems. But a loveless marriage? Is that what I want?”
“You’ve been living like a monk for years,” Thomas said.
“And who’s to say it will remain loveless?” Charlotte asked, a gleam in her eye. “You might fall madly in love. People do, you know.”
“True enough,” Thomas said.
“It’s easy for you to say,” Henry said. “You were a love match from the start.”
“I have loved you since the beginning of time, darling,” Thomas said to his wife.
“And I, you,” Charlotte said. “But perhaps love can grow out of a practical arrangement.”
“It would be convenient,” Thomas said mildly. “You need a wife. Sophia wants to stay with Amelia. The arrangement would solve both problems.”
“A proposal would save me from the marriage mart frenzy in London,” Henry said. “Which I’m dreading. All those balls. And small talk. And dance cards.”
“My father let us run too wild here in the country,” Charlotte said. “It has ruined all of for proper society.”
“If it had not been for your father, I might not have survived until adulthood,” Henry said.
“At least think about it, dear cousin,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps broach the subject with Miss Ashford.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, thinking through Charlotte’s suggestion. Would Miss Ashford even consider him? Did she love Amelia enough that she would marry a man she did not truly know? “I’m quiet and dull but perhaps her love for Amelia will overlook these character flaws.”
“You’re not dull, Henry,” Charlotte said. “The right woman will find you fascinating.”
“And you have a title and a fortune,” Thomas said. “Surely those will appeal to her.”
“What about the rest of my staff?” Henry asked. “Would they accept the former governess as the mistress of the manor?”
“That will be up to you,” Charlotte said. “They will do what you ask of them.”
“She told me today that she’d rather stay with Amelia than have a husband and home of her own,” Henry said. “I would find it hard to believe had I not witnessed the sincerity in her eyes.”
“Do think long and hard about it,” Charlotte said. “Please.”
“Not too long,” Thomas said. “You have only a fortnight.”
“I’ll sleep on it tonight,” Henry said.
“See that you do.” Charlotte smiled at him. “We will be here for you regardless.”
As absurd as the idea was, perhaps he should seriously consider it.
He thought of Rebecca. Of her excitement when she discovered she was expecting.
The look in her eyes when she showed Amelia to Henry the first time.
Months later, she was gone, leaving poor Amelia with Henry.
Miss Ashford had been a blessing to the child.
Who was he to rip them apart if he could possibly help it?
*
Henry’s carriage pulled up to Thornbridge Hall, its lamps gleaming like low stars against the evening fog. The house was quiet, most of the staff already abed. Only a single candle burned in the entrance hall, left there by Grimshaw for his return.
Henry climbed the stairs slowly, Charlotte’s words echoing in his mind. You must marry Miss Ashford. The idea was absurd. Utterly absurd. And yet it had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter he couldn’t quite extract.
He opened the door to his bedchamber to find Davies already there, stoking the fire.
The young man turned at the sound of the door, his dark eyes alert despite the late hour.
Davies was lean and quick in his movements, with dark wavy hair kept meticulously neat, and pleasant features that often seemed on the verge of amusement.
Even at this late hour, he was impeccably dressed in his valet’s attire.
“My lord. I trust the evening at Thornbridge was pleasant?”