Chapter 11 #2
She could hardly believe the words that she was speaking, but they were true, and everything was happening in the most remarkable of ways.
“Only if you will lay down with me, my dear.”
“Oh, I can’t,” Nancy protested, thinking of the list of things she still had to do. “I have much work ahead still—”
“You will lay down with your mother,” the duke cut in kindly.
“You have given your all at my request. You have achieved the success of this room, and you and Miss Riley both deserve a rest. Everyone does. I’m calling a holiday for the rest of the day and tomorrow as well.
” The duke winked. “Besides, you must move your mother in.”
And without another word or request for praise, the duke slipped out of the room, and she was certain he took her own heart with him.
A bevy of ladies surrounded his small dining table in the intimate chamber he still preferred to the massive hall downstairs.
At first, he had thought it was a good idea that he only had Nancy dine with him, but he’d quickly realized the error of that.
Oh, Pierce loved conversing with her alone, but he knew that it was difficult and complicated to request such continual intimacy between them when she was not his wife or anything else but his friend, his employee. Though the word galled him.
Ever since they had kissed, all he wanted was to make her his. But she was not his in reality. Not yet.
And he didn’t like the inequality of their situation and did not wish her to feel awkward. And so he had asked Miss Eileen, Miss Pansy, Miss Victoria, and, of course, Nancy’s mother to dine with them.
The table was surrounded by ladies, all with soft curling hair piled atop their heads, simple frocks, and simple phrases, but he had laughed more now than he had in years.
The roast chicken had been most deliciously made by Cook, and there wasn’t a single bit of meat left on the bone. The roast potatoes were even better. And the good wine had been drunk.
As they now sat back at the table, eating their dessert, a beautiful thing of sponge, sugar, and strawberries, he wished he could keep this feeling forever.
He couldn’t help but love every moment of the way that Nancy’s cheeks were bright now with happiness. Her eyes positively danced as she kept looking at her mother. And he was thrilled too because her mother already looked tenfold better than she had in that cottage by the sea.
Cottage. It had been nearly a hovel.
The floor had been uneven, broken stone, and cold. The walls had been lined with damp, and the fire had guttered and smoked.
Yes, she had had fresh air, but she had also been terribly lonely. And he understood better than most that being lonely could not help one get well.
When the only person one saw was doctors, things were not going to go well.
Now, Mrs. Stillbrooke beamed, eyed her daughter with great pride, and drank the wine and ate the food as if she was not some frail little bird taking tiny bites as she had done when he had first brought supplies on his last visit down to the cottage.
This time, he had gone and collected her himself.
He hadn’t trusted it to anyone else. And at first, it had been difficult to convince her, but he had also assured her that he had a plan for her daughter.
And with her permission, he would execute it.
She was not a foolish woman. And apparently, she could see that he was a man of good intentions, and she had given her permission.
Now, he was truly going to pursue what he wished, and nothing was going to stop him.
He was going to help Nancy, he was going to help Nancy’s mother, and he was going to help himself.
What better could he ask for than this merriment?
“Right. Your Grace, you’re going to go and get a bevy of new schools started, aren’t you, with teachers who know how to tell jests?” declared Eileen before she took a bite of strawberries and cream.
He lifted his glass of port to her. “Indeed, Miss Eileen, I should only hire the best, most merry souls to teach the children. All the other sour-faced people shall be put out on their ear. Anyone who inches towards a stick shall be put out on their backside.”
“If only it could be true,” Mrs. Stillbrooke said carefully. “Children thrive with love and kindness. They need firmness, it’s true, but they don’t need to be frightened. The world is already frightening enough.”
“Indeed, it is,” he said gently. He had seen how frightening the world was.
On ships where men were whipped to within an inch of their lives for small infractions.
To plantations where sugar was grown and lands where people had their homes stolen from them only to then live in poverty and disease? Yes, the world was cruel.
But kindness could be found in the smallest things. In the stars. The flickering of tents. Arabian stallions who raced against hot sands. Flowers of untold beauty. And songs that told the stories of a thousand years.
He clung to those things.
And the love between a daughter and her mother.
“Mama,” Nancy said, tilting her head to the side, “we have endured the world.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Stillbrooke said, “but I don’t think children should have to endure things for no reason. There’s reason enough when we are grown.”
“Well said.” He took up a bite of his dessert and then eyed Miss Pansy. “And what would you do to change the world?” he asked.
Pansy sat a little straighter, her nut-brown hair tumbling about her shoulders. “I’d make sure that everyone had bread and butter and milk and a warm room. What wonders could we do with a warm room?”
“And you, Miss Victoria?” he asked.
Victoria put her fork down and grew most serious as her lips tightened. “I would ensure that girls would be given enough education so that they could choose their husbands and not be forced to marry anyone who asked them, lest they be afraid of not having the bread and butter that Pansy speaks of.”
He nodded gravely. “All of these are noble causes, and all of them are things that I shall pursue.”
“Ah,” Nancy said, leaning forward, “but do you think that you will achieve them?”
He was silent. How to reply? He couldn’t give them lies and deny the reality of the world.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied at last.
“What?” she gasped.
He blew out a breath. “It doesn’t matter if I achieve them.
The point is that we must raise the questions and fight to achieve them.
If we do not fight and just assume it can never be done because it is too hard?
We will fulfill our own prophecies, and the world will be cruel and small and run by those who would crush any who wish it to be better under their boot. ”
Pierce leaned forward and looked at each woman, one by one, determined they understood how seriously he took their words.
“So, you keep bringing me points and questions, and I will keep doing my best to change things. And that will at least be a good start. And I will be able to go to sleep at night knowing that I have at least made attempts and that I am not reveling in the gold that my ancestors collected without doing anything good with it.”
“Like bringing my mother here,” she said softly. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? Small acts that grow into great things.”
“Like bringing your mother here,” he affirmed gently.