Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Aurora would remember that carriage ride for the rest of her life.
It seemed the longest three days she had ever endured.
Even her future trips to the Continent that went on for weeks and months would never feel as lengthy.
At last, the landmarks became familiar, and she spent the final couple of hours pointing out favorites to Marjorie, who eagerly peered in whatever direction Aurora was indicating and looked with concentration, as if the little girl would memorize each one.
Their party was clearly expected, because, as they pulled up the long drive and around the circular courtyard directly facing the front steps, the entire household was lined up for a formal greeting.
Aurora could scarcely contain herself. She itched to shake off the footman’s careful hand to bound out of the carriage and up the steps to her parents waiting at the top.
Nevertheless, she did manage to hold herself back.
These last few weeks had taught her a great deal.
She allowed herself to be helped down, reached up behind her to assist Marjorie, and then stepped away to permit Missie and Lady Wentworth to descend.
Holding Marjorie’s hand, she greeted the servants lined up to meet them, introducing Marjorie to them one at a time.
The young girl gave a curtsy to each and consented to have Aurora’s old nurse chuck her under the chin and call her a complete and utter duckling.
When she finally reached her parents at the top, however, she froze.
They were not the same people she had left.
Her father looked shrunken, his face white and his hand shaking on a cane which was also supporting him.
Her mother’s face looked strained and careworn, and it was obvious the cane was not the only thing helping Mr. Hardcastle to stand erect.
Aurora greeted them each with a curtsy and then gingerly stepped forward, first to her mother (a kiss on each cheek) and then a careful embrace of her father.
She was surprised to find her voice was able to come out steadily, without the inner quaking she was feeling. “Mama, Papa, this is Lady Marjorie. She is the Duke of Selkirk’s daughter.”
“Lady Marjorie,” replied Mrs. Hardcastle. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And I you, ma’am,” replied Marjorie.
The look on her father’s face told Aurora now was not the time to discuss the drastic change she observed in him.
Surmising his strength might be reaching its limit, she stepped back and introduced the other members of the party to her parents: Lord and Lady Wentworth, Missie, the Duke of Galloway, and then her affianced, the Duke of Selkirk.
“We are delighted to welcome you to our home. Please, you must be tired from your travels. Come inside and have some refreshment, and then I will have you all shown to your rooms. We plan to have a light supper sent up to you after, as I am quite sure you will wish to make an early night of it.” Mrs. Hardcastle finished her welcome, then turned and led the way back into the house, still supporting her husband. The visitors streamed in after her.
Aurora let them proceed ahead of her, taking a moment to breathe and slow down her whirling thoughts.
Suddenly Alec was there, not saying anything but taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips.
Their eyes met, and the sympathy in his almost caused hers to fill.
“Shall we enter, Miss Hardcastle?” was all he said, however.
And, so accompanied, Aurora Hardcastle stepped back into a home which felt foreign and strange.
The steadiness of the arm underneath hers was a comfort, and she almost clung to it for a moment as they entered the drawing room.
* * *
The party was all safely stowed into their respective assigned rooms, resting, which left Aurora free to seek out her father.
He had found refuge in his small office, as she expected.
It had always served as his sancta sanctorum when he needed time and space to think, write, or handle his business affairs.
The one change she spotted was that his regular chair had been replaced with one which allowed him to put his feet up and lean back.
He was doing so when she scratched on the door and entered.
He turned, saw who it was, and gave her a warm, sweet smile which pierced her heart.
In a moment Aurora had thrown her arms around him and was holding onto him tightly.
“Oh, Papa, why didn’t you tell me?”
She felt her father’s arms come up and gently push her away. He searched her face and, whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find, for he smiled again. “Because I needed you to do this.”
“Do what? Find a husband? See London? None of that is important if you were ill!”
“Of course it was important, daughter. And especially because I am ill! My own medical training told me what was happening. Useful thing, that training. Once a physician, always a physician. During your absence, however, I was able to see a specialist and have my opinion seconded.
“Aurora—” He stopped and took a moment to compose himself.
“I realize I am leaving you a very wealthy heiress.” The abruptness of this statement caused her to take a step back.
“I wanted to be sure I could protect you as long as possible. That meant, I needed to be able to find the best potential husband for you now and get you situated so you were not left to a gaggle of fortune hunters. I also needed you to gain a little more of what you might be able to find in London, with guides like the Wentworths to see you were well-placed and liberated from our more provincial manners and style.”
“But, Papa!”
“Aurora, yes. Your mother and I discussed it. We knew you would not go if you realized something was wrong with me. I am sorry we lied by omission. It was necessary, goosey. Tell me truthfully: would you have gone?”
“No.”
“Exactly. I do know you, daughter. I know your heart, which is wide and deep. I know your mind, which is clear and filled with much useful and some not-exactly-useful knowledge.”
“Oh, Papa, that is not fair!”
Her father chuckled. It was an old argument between the two of them and, honestly, one he initiated even though she knew he agreed thoroughly with her rebuttal as he had been the one to introduce her to the books in his library.
And teach her Greek. That moment, though, also broke some of the tension in the room, as she realized he had intended, and her shoulders relaxed.
“How long do we have, Papa?”
“Not long. A few months, perhaps. I wanted to be well enough to introduce your husband-to-be to the business. I realized, if you secured a gentleman of the Ton, he most likely would not be interested in getting acquainted with the details of grubby trade and manufactory work. Even so, as a husband, all this would be his.”
Aurora found herself bristling. “I would beg to differ, Papa.”
Her father sighed. This was another old argument, and one that was an actual disagreement. “Daughter, the ways of the world.”
“I have learned something about the ways of the world, Papa. I still would beg to differ.” Aurora looked around for the tiny stool which traditionally stood in a corner of the room, dragged it right next to her father’s chair, and sat on it.
This was their old arrangement, one she had followed from the years when he was a doctor, writing up his patient receipt books and explaining the various medical ailments of the countryside.
Those were the days when they lived in a smaller house, before the factory and the wealth.
This habit of theirs continued afterward.
She looked up at her father. “Papa, I have done everything you and Mama have asked of me.
I went to that horrid school where the girls were awful to me and where I was reminded each and every day I did not belong.
Yet I did not run away. I went to London, as you asked, and have secured—at least, nominally secured—an eligible match. With a duke, no less!
“But I am still me, Papa, and I cannot seem to stop being so. I am your daughter, and no one else’s.
I have learned at your feet from the time I was very small.
I have studied the business inside and out.
I know how to work a loom. I know how to negotiate and order.
I know how to organize the ledgers. I know how to direct the workers.
I know how. I also know how important it is to you that the manufactory continues to be run the way you wish it to be, not like those other enterprises where we know of so much suffering by the workers.
“When you meet with the Duke of Selkirk, I need you to insist he not be given full control over all my monies and assets.” Aurora paused and took a deep breath.
Something that had been floating in the back of her mind, untethered and cloudy, had suddenly swum into focus, and she knew what she had to say.
“I wish to operate the manufactory, Papa. Even after all these weeks away, I know that is what I want to do. I know this now. My place is not in London with all those fine lords and ladies. My place is here. With this work.”
Her father spluttered, “Aurora, that is most irregular. Furthermore, I am sure no gentleman worth his salt would agree.”
“Well,” Aurora continued, “I would argue such a gentleman would then have nothing to do with me.
I have come to believe the Duke of Selkirk might be amenable to such a conversation.
He has a young daughter of his own—Marjorie.
He adores her. Absolutely and utterly. He clearly wants more for her than the standard portion of things.
I believe I can offer him that—I believe I can offer him something for his daughter, something more than simply money.
Doing this requires me to maintain some manner of control over my own affairs.
“Papa, I need this. This is what you have raised me for.”
Her father’s eyes searched her face again. Then he sighed. “Well, it shall have to be broken to him gradually. I do not know that a man of his class would consent to such an arrangement. Frankly, I do not know of many, or even any, men who would consent, regardless of class.”
“Oh, Papa. Simply show him around—introduce him to the people in the neighborhood and at the factory. Let him see this world and how different it is from the world he knows. See how he processes and absorbs it. After that, let him know this is my world, that I know my way around it and that I should be the leader in this. I think it can be done.”
Her father reached out and patted her hand. “Well, well. We shall see. Now, goosey, you should have a short rest before dinner. I will try to join you for the actual meal. Your mother, Aurora—”
She had stood, but his words stopped her from leaving.
“This has been extraordinarily hard on her. Please look after her for me. Please? I know the two of you have not often seen eye to eye: you are both very different people. She is precious to me as well, daughter. And she loves you very much, though you have tended to see it as judgment and chastisement.”
Aurora clamped down on her lower lip to stop it from wobbling. “Yes, Papa. I promise.”
It was a very different Aurora who climbed the stairs back to her room than the one who had left for the Wentworths’ estate all those months ago.
The time in London had altered her more than she had realized.
She had learned to maneuver in a more rarefied society but knew she would never be at home there.
London had also rubbed off some of the adolescent edges she had still possessed when the carriage had first deposited her onto the city’s hubbub of streets and drawing rooms. She supposed she was still na?ve, in fact, she knew she was.
But not as much as before. And now, this conversation with her father had shifted something further inside of her.
The knowledge of the shortness of time they had left was throwing all of her expectations into the air. While simplifying them as well.
But she admitted to herself, I do not know how much more change I can take.
I really do not know. Into her memory swam the feeling of the Duke of Selkirk’s arm supporting her into the house; the fact he noticed and cared enough to act brought with it a note of hope.
Perhaps she had something solid under her feet as she navigated this new world of what had once been her old home.
She certainly no longer had a best friend in whom she could confide.