Chapter 7
“It has been wonderful to have you here,” Lavinia said, embracing Cecily tightly as their father and a footman loaded up a carriage before departing.
“And it has been wonderful to be with you,” Cecily said warmly. “Please, do write to me and tell me what the outcome of the situation is,” she added in a whisper.
“I will,” Lavinia nodded. She glanced over Cecily’s shoulder to where their father was waiting impatiently. “I only ask that you do not tell Father about what is happening until I am ready to explain.”
“I will not,” Cecily promised. “You have my word, and you know I do not break my word.”
“I know,” Lavinia said warmly. She gave her sister one last tight squeeze before letting her go. Cecily joined their father at the carriage. The older man turned back to Lavinia.
“I will… see you soon,” he said stiffly.
“I am sure you will,” Lavinia nodded. Her father looked down for a moment, shifting in his place, as if debating saying something else. In the end, he did not. He stepped into the carriage, slamming the door shut behind him. Lavinia rolled her eyes slightly.
A man of much theatrics…
The carriage headed down the gravel road, and she stayed until the carriage was but a speck on the horizon. Only then did she let her shoulders relax. Lavinia turned back to the estate, walking quickly into her sitting room. It was a room that she often kept closed off when guests were around..
As she pushed open the doors, her latest canvas came into view.
Her paints were right where she had left them.
Looking to her right, Lavinia noticed a package resting on the table.
She picked up the small parcel sent from a dear artist friend who had a knack for finding the rarest and most incredible colors.
She opened the parcel and inspected the tin inside. Yellow. Bright yellow.
“So, this is cadmium yellow,” she murmured. “I shall have to thank them many times…”
She picked up her walnut oil and a small amount of the pigment, mixing them together. She smiled as the arguably arduous process started. The pigment soon took to the oil, blending smoothly. She lifted the grinder up slightly, watching the paint drip in golden strands.
“Like the sun,” she murmured. Lavinia sat down at her easel, looking up at the landscape that she had been working on before the fair. Taking out her finest brush she started to fill in the buttercups that she had left until the paint arrived. Her heart soared.
It was the perfect shade of yellow. She let out a happy sigh, her mind and hands melting into the act of painting. Before she could get too far, there was a knock on the door. She winced, desperate to keep going…
“Yes?” she called out to the door.
“Your Grace, there has been a delivery for you,” a maid said. Lavinia looked from her canvas to the door and back. She reluctantly stood up and walked to the door.
“What kind of—” she froze when she saw a large bouquet of flowers in the maid’s arms. Her heart hammered in her chest as she examined the bright flowers.
A mix of orchids, anthuriums, and some pink hibiscus.
Her eyes drifted toward the card that was attached.
She gently picked it up and began to read.
Dear Duchess of Alderwick,
I was so overjoyed to see you at the fair. I do hope that you will seriously consider my offer to go for a walk soon. When I saw these growing in a friend’s hothouse, I thought of you. Please, keep them somewhere sunny. They bloom best in warmth, much like yourself.
With kindness,
Lord Casterleigh
For a moment she was too stunned to say anything. Her eyes traced over the different flowers, the delicate patterns on the petals, the vivid colors, her nose taking in the fresh, floral scent. She felt the tips of her ears warm but she shook her head.
“Have them set up in the greenhouse,” she said quietly. The maid nodded and took the flowers out into the hall. Lavinia sat back down in front of the canvas, her heart racing.
I rejected him six years ago. Why is he so insistent on coming back into my life?
She glanced back at her canvas. The cadmium yellow was illuminating the buttercups, but suddenly she had the urge to paint a bright pink hibiscus.
“My Lady,” a butler said at the door. Everything in Lavinia screamed to send him away so she could return to her painting. Taking a deep breath, she turned to him.
“Yes?” she asked, her voice strained.
“A Mr. Vale has arrived.” Lavinia had the sudden urge to throw her palette knife across the room.
“Send him to the drawing room,” Lavinia replied. “I will be with him in a moment.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said, backing out of the room quickly.
Lavinia took a few deep breaths before standing up.
Why are these men so determined to force themselves into my life?
Lavinia walked down to the drawing room and immediately tensed.
Mr. Vale had moved a sheet off of a partially finished canvas that she had covered when her guests had arrived.
It was an unfinished landscape view of the lake that was at the end of Briarwood Hall’s gardens.
The swan in the middle of the lake was outlined, but not filled, with only one wing.
“The painter of this piece has talent," Mr. Vale said softly. His voice was gentle, as if in awe of the work. She felt her ears warm again despite her indignation.
“I did not invite your opinion,” she replied coldly, sitting down on the sofa. He turned to face Lavinia, and took the seat across from her.
“May I ask who the artist is? Was it the late duke?”
“No, it was not, and no, you may not,” she replied curtly. A maid entered a moment later with a pot of tea and two cups on a tray.
Lavinia sighed. “You asked my maids to bring tea?”
“I feel that this may be a long conversation,” he replied.
“Have you considered that I do not have the wish, need, or time for a long conversation?” she asked.
“It is a necessary conversation,” he said.
“If you are certain,” she replied. Lavinia found her eyes drifting from his infuriating expression, to his dark eyes.
“I am,” Mr. Vale insisted. “Has your solicitor arrived and reviewed the documents?” Her eyes shifted to the strong line of his jaw.
“Not yet,” she replied. “But I am expecting him any day now.”
“Is there no way you could ask him to arrive sooner?”
Her eyes traced over the lines of his nose and eyebrows, her mind drifting to how she would paint him.
She had to admit that he was handsome. Nothing like the man she had married.
Lavinia frowned and pushed the thoughts away.
He was not a suitor. He was the man who was attempting to take everything away from her.
“There is not,” she replied. “I sent the letter by express. I asked him to come immediately. There is nothing else I can do short of sending a horse straight to his residence.”
“Would you be able to do that?” he asked.
“Mr. Vale,” she said firmly. He immediately held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“I apologize, I just… I am eager to have this matter resolved,” he said.
“I understand,” she replied. “I am too, but there is not anything more I can do at this moment.”
He nodded and sighed, running a hand down his face. Silence descended around them, and Lavina’s throat tightened. Mr. Vale looked to the side, one leg resting on top of the other, the sun catching in the slight curls in his hair. She gritted her teeth.
How dare this man be so infuriating and yet so perfect a person to paint?
“May I ask a question?” Lavinia began. “You will not enjoy it.”
“You may ask,” he said, turning to look at her.
“When were your parents divorced?”
He raised an eyebrow, hesitated, and took a long, deep breath.
“They never were,” he replied honestly.
Lavinia’s eyes widened and the room seemed to tilt around them.
“Pardon?” she whispered.
“My parents were never divorced,” Mr. Vale repeated.
“And you said that your mother died after my marriage?” she asked, her heart thudding so hard against her ribs it was starting to ache.
“That is right,” he said with a nod.
“So, if they were never divorced, and the documents were legitimate,” she whispered. “I was not married… That… That was bigamy.”
Her ears rang and the air left her lungs.
“Your Grace,” he said, his eyes widening. “I thought you had already…”
Silence engulfed them. The horror of the revelation seemed to settle over the room like a miasma. Lavinia’s breath hitched and nausea rolled through her.
“Your Grace,” a footman said from the doorway. “Your Solicitor, Mr. Barnes, has arrived. I have sent him to your study.”
“I see,” she said, standing quickly. “I will speak to him now.”
“Your Grace, wait—” Mr. Vale began, reaching after her but she walked away too quickly. The ache in her chest seemed to get deeper and she barely held onto her composure, racing up toward the study and opening the oak doors..
. Usually, the lavender walls and plush flooring would have made her shoulders relax. That day, they did nothing but remind her that she could lose everything she worked for.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Barnes said, standing tall. “Are you well?”
“As well as I can be,” she said, moving to the desk to pick up the documents before taking her seat across from him. She handed him the papers. “These are the documents. If they are real, then I…”
Lavinia shook her head, the words dying in her throat.
“Let me see what they say, and then we can discuss what needs to happen,” he explained, before looking down at the documents.
For several, agonizing minutes, they sat in silence. Her foot tapped nervously against the floor. Mr. Barnes’ eyebrows furrowed deeper the further he read. Her heart sank as he looked up.
“I am afraid,” he started, “that these do appear to be legitimate.”
Her heart stopped.
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
“What that means,” he said, “is that I need to do further research. I need to verify church records and witnesses, and potentially, death records. But, it would appear that his claims are credible.”
The words reverberated around her skull like thunder echoing over a field.
The world around her fell silent, almost unnaturally so.
The ringing in her ears grew louder. Her chest tightened and started to feel numb.
It spread through her until breathing felt impossible She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together.
Father who art in Heaven… Do not leave me… Do not forsake me…
Tears blurred her vision and she took a shuddering breath Wiping her eyes, she did her best to compose herself.
Lavinia thanked her solicitor and exited the study, making her way back to Mr. Vale, who stood respectfully as she entered. She watched his eyes trace over her face, and she could tell that he noticed she had been crying. She blinked hard to push away the last of the moisture.
“What did he say?” Roderick asked.
“The full investigation will take time,” Lavinia replied, her voice flat. “But from what he has seen, there appears to be validity to your claim.”
She watched as he all but collapsed back into the sofa with relief, letting out a shuddering breath.
“What is it you intend to do now?” she asked.
“Intend to do?” he looked up at her quizzically.
“Yes, now that there has been some proof of your story,” she replied.
“Well,” he started. “How long did your solicitor say it would take?”
“He did not give a fixed timeline. I imagine that it will be determined by how helpful the local churches are,” she explained.
“I… Well, I cannot very well stay in The Stag and Crown indefinitely,” he replied. His eyes drifted across the room for a moment and a hand ran over his chin.
“Given the circumstances, it may be reasonable for my butler and I to take up residence at Briarwood Hall while matters are resolved,” he suggested.
Lavinia’s jaw tightened and her hands clenched at her sides.
“I have endured much of society's whispers; I care very little for them,” she growled, her voice trembling. “An unmarried man and woman sharing a household would be a scandal neither of us need. Are you intending to cause me more strife?”
“No, not at all,” Mr. Vale said, standing up again. “Well,” he sighed. “I could be introduced as a distant relation of the late duke who has arrived to assist with estate matters during a period of legal complexity. It is not a complete lie.”
She nodded slowly, her brows furrowing deeply.
“I can see that satisfying some of the local population, but not everyone,” she sighed. “I will need to arrange for a companion to stay with me. I have two friends who I may be able to call on to assist with this. At least to satisfy appearances.”
“That is a very sensible suggestion,” he nodded.
“And I have conditions to your stay,” she added.
“Conditions?” he asked, his eyes darkening.
“Yes,” she nodded. “We will occupy separate wings, the household will stay as before with myself managing domestic affairs, at least until the legal situation is resolved.”
Mr. Vale paused and nodded slowly.
“I can agree to that,” he said quietly. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Lavinia hated that he was agreeing so easily; she hated that he had been so sensible; she hated everything about it.
“One last thing,” she added.
“I have already agreed to much,” he said, folding his arms.
“Then one more thing should be an easy request,” she argued. “You must agree to not get in my way of my work around the estate, or how I handle my staff,” she explained.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly.
“I can do my best to agree to that,” he said. “But I will not make a promise that I cannot keep.”
“That is enough for me,” she said, her arms tightening around herself.
He watched her for a moment and then looked out the window.
The quiet around them was only broken by the distant murmur of servants and the sound of birds outside.
It all felt entirely normal. Domestic. Lavinia closed her eyes.
The world was entirely indifferent to the fact that her life was falling apart around her at that moment.
I knew something like this could happen one day, I had just hoped it would be much later… And under different circumstances.
“I should let you rest,” he said gently. “I will not push myself into your home tonight. I will come another night.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Mr. Vale opened his mouth as if to say something else and thought better of it. He walked toward the door and she stepped aside for him.
“Please take all the time you need to rest tonight,” he said softly. “You will need all of your nerve.”
“I know,” she said. “Do not tell me how I should conduct myself. Your father did enough of that.”
Lavinia watched him stiffen up at her words. He moved past her quietly, but his footsteps were harder than they had been before. She closed her eyes.
That was cruel Lavinia…
After a minute, she opened her eyes again and took a shuddering breath.
I need to write those letters…