Chapter 6
What the Earl Wants
The weather was very fitting to the way the evening went. Arthur had spent a large part of two hours talking to visiting peers and members of their court. The activities of the day reiterated something he had always thought. His father was a good man.
I think that is the overlying feeling.
And to be a good Earl, he had allies, loyalties, and loyalists, each of them with their own peculiarities. The only major ally missing that day was the Baron Zouche, who had an understandable reason to be missing. Arthur decided that it still wasn’t right. He didn’t understand how the relationship had soured between his father and Baron Fitzroy. What he knew now was that the Baron was putting sentimentality before the health of his people which was a wrong move.
“What do you think I should do Victor, about Baron Fitzroy’s absence?” Arthur asked him as they rode back home in the carriage.
Mr Victor was quiet for the first few moments. Arthur looked at his face, and despite the lack of light, he could see the man had a contemplative expression.
“My Lord, you are aware of the history between Baron Hugh Fitzroy and your father,” Mr Victor said.
Arthur nodded. He was, as far as it occurred before he left. He could only guess at what happened during his time away. He looked outside the window. It was still early evening. The sky was meant to be blue with yellow rays of a sun preparing to sleep. Instead, the weather was grey and cold. A chilly wind blew regularly through the carriage window, telling Arthur how cold it would be outside. The lighting was less because many dark clouds covered the sky. A glimpse of them told Arthur it was going to rain. He once read something about funerals and rain. It seemed very apt now.
“I know my sudden disappearance affected Miss Rebecca, the Baron’s daughter. I imagine that it had something to do with the animosity that developed between the man and my father,” Arthur said.
“Yes, My Lord, it had a lot to do. The matter is extensive, but I could shorten it by saying Baron Fitzroy knew your leaving had a very adverse effect on his daughter. He was livid when he found out it was your father that ordered you to leave,” Mr Victor said.
Arthur didn’t react. He kept his eyes outside, but his mind was back with Rebecca. Motherhood was kind to her. She was essentially the same except for a bit of softness in some parts of her body. Her mind, her demeanour were still of the chit he had left in Derby. Rebellious, independent, dampened by the expectations of a young child, that was the Rebecca he met now. Arthur suddenly remembered that he hadn’t seen Miss Wendy, her maid. He decided he would ask her about Miss Wendy whenever he saw her next.
I will see her again.
“So what do you think I should do Victor?” Arthur asked.
“I think you should send him a message. He needs to know you have no problems with him, that you are ready to work with him as far as it is to better the fare of your people. But you need to know if he is ready to work with you,” Mr Victor said.
Arthur nodded. That was a very sensible suggestion. He raised his right hand, touching Mr Victor’s forearm and holding him there.
“I leave that to you, Victor. Get a fitting messenger and send him a very diplomatic message letting him know exactly what you have said now. Let me know his reply before the end of tomorrow,” Arthur said.
“Yes, My Lord,” Mr Victor said.
A gust of wind blew into the carriage, bringing in bits of dust. Arthur closed his eyes.
“This rain is going to be heavy, a real belter,” Arthur predicted.
“We’ve not had a serious one this year, My Lord,” Mr Victor commented.
Arthur thought about his sister who was coming up in the rear in a coach. He was sure she was preparing a lot of harsh words for him that evening. She had warned him about going in search of Rebecca, and that was exactly what he had done.
I’m not the Earl to satisfy all her wants. I don’t owe her any promise or favour.
That wasn’t going to matter to Lady Teresa. It never had. Arthur doubted that he had the strength for any sort of argument this night. It was going to be a cold night, the kind of night he missed Rebecca the most, when his bed was empty and without a woman to offer warmth. Arthur leaned back, resting his head on the wooden wall of the cabin and closing his eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was the undulating movement of the carriage or the cold breeze, but he felt relaxed and sleepy. Arthur allowed himself into the embrace of a sleep.
“My Lord, Lord Bexley,” a voice said, penetrating through his dreamy state and waking him.
Arthur opened his eyes. The carriage had stopped moving, and looking outside the window, Arthur saw that they were in familiar territory. They were home. He looked at Mr Victor and nodded his head.
“I’ll be down in a minute, Victor,” he said, looking away again.
He didn’t see Mr Victor’s reaction, but he could see the man alight in his peripheral vision. He felt very sleepy. His body was probably more fatigued than he realised. He had had a strenuous day. After dozing again for a short time, Arthur opened his eyes and jerked himself to his feet. He could go in and have as much sleep as he wanted inside. He alighted and noticed his sister’s coach was already here, and it seemed she had gone in. Arthur looked around him, observing the serenity of the compound. He could see that the gate was already manned.
Those boys are back.
Arthur smiled, grateful that lads so carefree manned the gate at his father’s funeral. They were the reason Rebecca had acquired access. He walked up the short well of five steps and got to the patio. Arthur turned around, feeling a bit flustered and needing air. The wind was blowing stronger now, and rain would come down anytime. The sky was completely dark. The strands of light that managed to pass through the blackened sky had all been blotted out. Arthur stretched his hand out beyond the balustrade. He waited till he felt the first drop of cool rainwater before going in.
As Arthur got in, he remembered his mother had come home before they all had. He saw the cook passing through the parlour, bending to greet when she saw he had spotted her. Arthur signalled for her to come to him.
“Do you know if my mother has been brought home?” he asked.
“Yes, My Lord, I just served her warm soup. She said she needed it to keep her alive in this cold weather,” the stewardess said.
Arthur nodded.
She’s eating. That’s great.
“You can go. Thank you for the information,” he said.
“She’s still in her room, though; you served her in her room and not the dining room,” Arthur said as the cook walked away.
“Yes, My Lord, I did. She should still be eating it now,” she replied before disappearing in the door underneath the stairwell.
He had to check on her. Arthur walked to the foot of the stairwell and went up, doubting if his sister had thought the same way he did. Teresa was a very selfish person, a character that she seemed to have been born with.
“People do not change, not really,” he said out loud as he went up the stairs.
He got to the top and walked to his mother’s door. Arthur knocked, rapping his knuckles twice against the panel of the wooden door.
“Arthur? Is that you?”
Arthur opened the door, pushing it into the room. The room was looking more alive compared to the last time he came in despite the weather being darker and colder. His mother was seated on her bed with the bowl of soup in front of her. She was already in her nightgown, a sign that she wouldn’t be down for dinner. Arthur decided to still ask. It would do no harm.
“Aren’t you going to be down for dinner?” he asked, eyeing the nightgown.
She shook her head.
“After this, I’m going to bed,” she said.
“You’re already in bed,” Arthur replied cheekily.
“You know what I mean,” she replied with a smile on her face.
Arthur walked to the side of the bed closest to her. He sat down beside her, seeing her clearly. She wasn’t looking as weak as she was when he first got here. He was just concerned that the day had taken a greater toll on her than anybody, and that wasn’t a good thing when his mother was concerned.
“How are you, Mother?” Arthur asked, looking into her eyes.
His mother shook her head, sending her wrinkles wriggling.
“What do you think?” she replied in a choked voice.
Her face suddenly looked pained. Arthur was concerned that she wasn’t so far from crying. He didn’t want that so he decided he had better keep difficult questions to himself.
“I understand,” he said, holding his mother on her arm.
“Are you sure? I hope you don’t. It’s another kind of pain, son. It is like losing another limb, like losing a part of you.”
Arthur nodded. He understood pain. His heart had ached so much he thought it would just stop during his first year in London. He hadn’t understood why Rebecca would refuse to reply to his letters. He still didn’t. But he wasn’t foolish to compare his pain to his mother’s. Her husband just died. There was a huge difference.
“You do not understand, Arthur. When it first happened and Teresa told me, I thought I’d die. I wanted to die.”
Her eyes were shining now. Arthur noticed that darkness had finally enveloped the room, and the flickering light from the lighted candles illuminated poorly. He could hear the steady pattering of rain against the windows like a little drummer boy starting up a march. Her voice resonated with the overriding mood created by the weather.
“I knew there was no reason for your sister to lie to me about this, and asides that, Teresa looked hurt. She must have been crying. Teresa never cries, for anybody. This was a man I had seen the night before, my husband who kissed me good night. How did it happen?” she recounted.
Arthur shook his head. He definitely didn’t understand her pain. He wasn’t going to present it like he did.
“Despite the mood of the house changing, I chose to believe that flicker of doubt that you came and properly doused it. It was then it hit me. My husband, your father was never coming back. He was gone, forever,” the Baroness said.
Arthur stretched forward and caught his mum in a tight bear hug. She didn’t deserve this, not when she had spent a large part of her life tending to her body’s frailties.
“Well, your father left, and you came back. So maybe things are not all gloomy,” she said.
Arthur laughed and infected his mother with the same laugh.
“Talking about loved ones, I hear she made it to the funeral,” his mother said.
“Who?” Arthur asked, feigning surprise even though he knew exactly who his mother was referring to.
His mother pushed him back, allowing him to see her eyes as she eyed him.
“You know who I refer to,” she said.
Arthur nodded.
“I thought I was the only one who saw her,” Arthur said.
“Is that possible, that the Earl alone discovers such? You’ll soon discover that it’s not. You have to have eyes and ears,” his mother said.
Her voice shook, maybe the cold or the strain of her crying about his father’s death.
“I guess not then,” Arthur said.
“Just take things like this, Arthur. Anything you notice, about four others have seen the same thing before you,” she said.
Arthur laughed.
“It was risky what she did.”
Arthur nodded. It was.
“She came to pay her respects, Mother. I prefer what she did to what her father did. He didn’t even show up, totally disrespecting the friendship he had shared with Father,” Arthur said.
His mother nodded.
“You will always look at the objective morality of an action and not the societal implications. No wonder you and Rebecca were very close. About her father, please forgive him. The same wounds heal differently for a lot of us,” she said.
Arthur wanted to smile, to acknowledge what she said, but he couldn’t find the smile to wear.
“Arthur,” his mother said in a lowered voice.
“Yes, Mother,” he replied, looking into her eyes.
“You have to move on from Rebecca. She’s a pastor’s widow. No Earl ever married a woman of such lowly status despite the fact that she’s a Baron’s daughter and even with the history both of you have,” she said.
Arthur exhaled loudly. He didn’t know how to reply.
“I have heard you, Mother. Go to sleep and get enough rest. We’ll see in the morning,” Arthur said.
His mother looked longingly at him but said nothing further. She picked up the bowl of unfinished soup and put it on the stool beside her bed. Arthur felt her eyes on him till he left the room.
He wasn’t ready to think about his next move. He didn’t want to. He was scared he would be forced to rationalise an option asides Rebecca. He had never envisioned a future without her, even during the dark years in London. He preferred not thinking about the future rather than having a substitute in her place.
When he got down, he discovered the dining room had been set. His sister sat at the other end of the table in her evening gown. Arthur didn’t have too much of an appetite, but he would eat just a little. Soon the servants all left the room, leaving him with his sister. As she cut into the cheese and forked it into her mouth with a piece of bacon, Arthur could feel her eyes on him. He knew she would soon speak. And it wouldn’t be amicable.
“You managed to do exactly what I warned you against,” she said, after swallowing the food in her mouth.
Arthur looked at her. He couldn’t make out the expression on her face despite the proper lighting in the dining room. Candles and torches just couldn’t substitute sunlight. Well, he was grateful for the lighting from the candles because he wasn’t interested in seeing the disgust that would be so starkly expressed on her face. Arthur didn’t reply to her.
“It seems you do not fully grasp the meaning of the position you now hold. Why was she at the funeral anyway? She wasn’t meant to be present there.”
Arthur spoke up now, fearing for Rebecca’s safety and image if it was spread too far that she was at the funeral.
“Wouldn’t you attend, Teresa, if you were in her shoes?” he asked his sister.
Lady Teresa’s laughter carried scorn and jest. He had forgotten about that particular laughter she had.
“I am not in her shoes, Arthur. And I only do the right thing. Rebecca is full of scandals, only scandals. You need to keep yourself as far away from her as possible. She is a stain on your image as an Earl,” Lady Teresa said.
“I could care less about stains,” he said gently, in stark contrast to the amount of force she was putting in her words.
Lady Teresa stood up. Arthur looked up to her menacing face.
“What you need is a young wife without a history of bringing shame to her family, daughter of a peer or not. You need a woman without bad history, a woman without any history,” she said.
Arthur didn’t speak.
Where is she going with this?
“I have arranged for a number of suitable women to be present at a ball we are hosting. You are to choose from one of them. I would give you a list of the best among them, but I can allow you to pick from any of the women if the list I give to you isn’t satisfying,” Lady Teresa said.
Arthur burst into laughter. It wasn’t laughter to scorn or make jest of what she was doing, it was full blown laughter borne from a highly humorous situation meeting him unprepared. He took his time to laugh before giving his view on what his sister was suggesting.
“My wife is not a meal, Teresa, you will pick from a menu.”
Maybe you need to get married to first understand this, but a good marriage is built on a foundation of true love, he was about to say, catching himself in time. He feared that his sister being past eligible age made discussing her marriage a hurtful issue; he had no reason to hurt her despite her controlling wiles.
“And I am the Earl. I won’t stop being the Earl because of the sort of woman I marry,” Arthur said.
He couldn’t deny that now that Rebecca’s husband was dead, there was a great temptation to build something with her and see if he could have her. Seeing her that afternoon had reignited everything they had before he had to leave. His body’s reaction to her was as natural as fish to water. He wanted her, and if the tension between them that afternoon had told him anything, it was that she wanted him too.
He didn’t see her daughter as a problem, or a blotch. She was an amazing little girl with whom he felt a powerful connection. She was like his. And he would treat her that way.
Why would he go around searching for love when he could resurrect something that was surely stronger than anything he and another woman could craft? No one was more interesting than Rebecca. No one had her fire, her courage, and her way of seeing things. He didn’t want another woman. He wanted Rebecca.
“I know how you think, Arthur,” Lady Teresa said, drawing a surprised reaction from him. She wasn’t perturbed by his reaction.
“You could not be more wrong. Marrying Rebecca does hurt your stock. This is a woman that couldn’t wait a couple of months for you before marrying and getting pregnant for a random clergyman. You had not been gone three months,” Lady Teresa screamed.
“I know this story inside out. I have heard it enough times,” Arthur shouted back, finally feeling the pressures of her pestering.
“No Arthur, from this childish behaviour of shivering at the sight of your first crush, you haven’t heard it enough. Now you will hear this – you will attend the ball I am hosting in a few days, and you will pick a suitable woman from there,” Lady Teresa said.
Arthur laughed and shook his head. Did his sister realise she was talking to someone with more clout and authority than she had? Who was she to talk to him in this tone?
Arthur did what he always did when he got riled up. He took a deep breath. He spoke in clear, solemn tone, standing up because he no longer had interest in dinner.
“Whatever you arrange doesn’t matter, Teresa. The Earl wants what the Earl wants. The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said before turning and walking away. He could hear her protest behind him, but he didn’t listen. He had done enough of that for the day.