When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 22

An Unwelcome Surprise

D

aphne stood in silence near her father. For a moment she thought the entire night had been a dream, her whole trip to England had been a dream, and she was in her own bed in her own home in Connecticut where everything made sense. Footsteps passed the library and Henry the footman scurried past, bringing her back to the moment.

“Do you think you should go with him, Papa?”

“I don’t think he would let me, my dear.”

“What do we do?”

“All we can do right now is wait.”

“It sounded like he was saying good-bye.”

“So it did.”

“Will you tell Grandma?”

“Richard is the Earl of Staton. He’s a little old for me to go running to Mamma.”

Daphne checked her hair in the mirror above the hearth, and her father smoothed down his black dress coat. They exhaled and joined the others in the assembly room, watching the dancers swirl across the floor in time to the quick-step waltz. Frederick squeezed Daphne’s hand, then went to do his duty and mingled with the guests. Daphne saw the married mammas sitting near the wall scrutinizing their daughters as they danced with the eligible young men. She recognized one of the matrons, a young woman in mourning black who gazed at the dancers as though she wished she could join them. Daphne gestured for her father to join her near the young widow.

“How do you do, Mrs. Gibson,” Daphne said. “I’m so glad you could come tonight.”

“How do you do, Miss Meriwether. Isabella and I were honored to receive an invitation to your ball. This is a wonderful gathering.”

Daphne turned to her father. “Papa, this is Mrs. Gibson. She was kind enough to pay a call after Grandpa died. Mrs. Gibson, my father, Frederick Meriwether.” Mrs. Gibson and her father exchanged the appropriate greetings. “And how are your children? You have a little boy and a little girl, if I remember correctly.”

Mrs. Gibson watched the waltzers whisk by. “They’re still adjusting to life without their father, but we all have our challenges and we must rise to the occasion.”

“I’m certain you’ve provided great strength for them,” said Frederick.

“You’re very kind, Mr. Meriwether. I’ve done my best. I want them to know that while they’ll always miss their father, they’re strong enough to go on.”

It had been more than a year since her husband died, so Mrs. Gibson was allowed out into the world again, no longer left to decay in the dark in her home because her husband was no longer living. She was still in her mourning, though Daphne thought the pretty young widow looked none the worse for it. Her dark eyes sparkled, her dark hair gleamed, and her peaches and cream complexion glowed in the candlelight.

“How is your niece Miss Cuthbert?” Daphne asked. “She looks lovely tonight.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Mrs. Gibson. “She spent long enough getting ready.”

The widow laughed, and Daphne laughed, and Frederick laughed. Daphne watched her father lean closer to the young woman.

“Your niece seems to be doing rather well for herself,” said Frederick. He watched Miss Cuthbert glide gracefully across the dance floor with Lord Whoeverthatis.

“Oh, yes. Isabella is very pretty and she’s quite amiable when she wishes to be.”

“I imagine you’ll do well for yourself when it’s time to put away your widow’s weeds,” Daphne said.

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Meriwether, but I imagine that life is over for me now. I was quite fortunate in my first marriage, and I don’t imagine I’ll be so a second time. I’m glad to come to Staton House tonight to support my niece, and it’s always a pleasure to be reacquainted with you, but my place is home with my children. They’re my happiness now.”

Frederick nodded. “I know precisely what you mean, Mrs. Gibson. When my wife died I was certain that part of my life was over, never to be revived.”

“If you’ll both excuse me,” Daphne said. “I was looking for…”

She left her father and the widow to work their way through the conversation. She glanced back at her father and Mrs. Gibson, her father with his hands behind his back, the widow waving her black lace fan before her face, not in a coquettish way, but as though she had grown too warm. It was far too soon to consider such a thing, but Daphne decided she would approve of a match between her father and the pretty widow. We shall see, Daphne thought. She crossed the room looking for Edward, thinking maybe he had gone to see his grandparents. She was on her way downstairs when she heard Mrs. Ellis speaking.

“I know, Neddie, but you can’t keep leading her on like this. It’s better to make a clean break. You should have done it by now.”

“It isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

“I never said it was easy, but it has to be done.”

Daphne found Edward and his grandmother in the kitchen. “I was looking for Edward.”

Edward smiled. “And now you’ve found me.” He offered Daphne his arm as they walked up. “Where did you disappear to?”

“My uncle wanted to talk to me, and now he’s gone.” Daphne dropped her face into her hands, unable to stop her tears.

Edward put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “What’s happened?”

“I’m not sure. He seemed well enough before he left. Something isn’t right, Edward. I know it.”

“Do you know where he went? Perhaps we can find him.”

“He didn’t say.”

“Let’s see how he is when he returns. I’m sure it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

Daphne liked where she was, close to Edward. She stayed a moment longer than she needed to, and Edward didn’t press her away. When they heard two young maids giggling they pulled apart.

“My grandmother must be angry with me,” Daphne said.

“She’s more furious with your uncle, I think. My grandmother said Lady Staton had as many hopes for him finding a wife tonight as she did of your finding a husband.”

Edward grasped Daphne’s gloved hand. He stroked the smooth silk, then brought her hand to his lips. He looked as though he were about to say something until Daphne heard her grandmother’s voice down the hall. They pulled away from each other, and Daphne found the separation harder the second time.

The grand lady stepped in front of Edward. “I thought Lord Darges could accompany you into the dining room, Daphne.”

“Grandma, I don’t think…”

The look on Lady Staton’s face was not one to be trifled with. Lady Staton paired her granddaughter with the future Duke of Norley, and the young lord was gracious enough to ask Daphne what refreshment she wanted, and he plated it for her and stood near while she ate. While he waited, Lord Darges struck up a conversation with a rueful-looking young man with sad eyes. Daphne remembered what her uncle said, wondering why Richard wouldn’t choose Lord Darges when every other young woman at the ball couldn’t take their eyes from the future duke. He was good-looking enough in his languid, fair-haired way, Daphne thought. Lord Darges seemed delighted with the rueful-looking young man, who tapped his toe and sipped his champagne to the beat of the polka emanating from the assembly room while he waited for a giddy blond in a yellow gown to finish her ice cream. Daphne listened as the rueful-looking young man boasted (in a nonboastful way, of course, because outright boasting would be bad manners) about the number of birds he knocked out of the sky at Frimpworth House. Then the rueful-looking young man pointed out a tall, handsome man with a serious look about his countenance standing across the dining room.

“He’s a future earl, you know,” the young man said. “He’ll inherit a vast estate in Yorkshire. He has his eye on the lovely Lady Violet over there.”

Daphne watched the serious looking young man hand a plate to a striking young woman, a coquette in a sea-green ball grown who fluttered her eyelashes in a way that captivated the future earl. The Lady Violet spoke to the future earl, and the future earl nodded, but they were too far for Daphne to hear their words.

“I know Lady Violet,” said Lord Darges. “She’s a beauty, and quite a wit. She’ll be a challenge for him, but I think he’ll appreciate that. She’ll never bore him, that’s for certain.”

“I’ve seen her before,” Daphne said. “We were presented on the same day.” Daphne watched how the young Lady Violet used her expressive gunmetal blue eyes behind her sea-green lace fan to the greatest effect. There was a whole language in the way a lady used her fan, Daphne knew. While Lady Violet was speaking she presented her fan shut toward the future earl, asking silently, “Do you love me?” When the future earl nodded, she hid her eyes behind the open fan, indicating that perhaps, and only perhaps, she loved him as well. The future earl leaned close to the young lady and whispered in her ear, and the young lady let the fan rest on her right cheek, “Yes” in the language of fans. For the rest of the night, Lady Violet fanned herself quickly, meaning she was either too hot or engaged.

Daphne couldn’t take her eyes from the young woman. She had a confidence about her, Lady Violet, even for someone so young, and Daphne wanted to ask her how she did it. Daphne could have used some of that confidence. She knew how she felt about Edward, but she still had misgivings about his feelings for her. She thought about the conversation she overheard in the kitchen. Who was Edward leading on, and why does he have to break from her? Daphne was certain Lady Violet would have the truth out of Edward in less than a minute. Daphne noticed the way the rueful-looking young man stared at Lady Violet.

“Are you a potential suitor of Lady Violet’s?” the future Duke of Norley asked.

“Perhaps once, but no longer. Once she realized a future earl was interested I fell off the list.”

Daphne felt sorry for the young man, and she didn’t want to be the one to tell him that Lady Violet and the future earl had most likely become engaged before his eyes. Daphne excused herself, leaving Lord Darges in his conversation with the young man. She found Edward and they returned to the assembly room together.

“Did you enjoy your time with Lord Darges?” he asked.

“He’s a good dancer, if nothing else.”

“If nothing else?”

“I’ll have to tell my grandmother that the future duke is not the man for me.” Daphne watched the giddy blond girl and the rueful-looking young man take to the dance floor. Miss Morena and Miss Twilla Cadwallader glided past with their respective partners, the sisters appropriately coiffed and bejeweled, Miss Morena in green damask and Miss Cadwallader in periwinkle silk. When Daphne noticed Viscountess Meddleham sitting with the matrons near the wall she wondered if one of the young men was the Viscountess’ much sought after son. Daphne continued to scan the faces and frowned when she didn’t see the one she searched for. “It’s too bad Miss Chattaway couldn’t come. I was hoping she’d be here.”

Edward appeared to be fascinated by the fleur de lis pattern on the wallpaper. “Miss Chattaway, did you say?”

“I thought she could bring her fiancé tonight so I could finally meet him. Edward? Are you all right?” Edward’s complexion was as white as his shirt, and he dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. “Do you need to sit?”

“No, no. I’m perfectly well.” He held out his hand. “What do you say, Miss Meriwether? May I have this next dance?”

They danced the next dance, and the next dance, and the next, and if there were other young men who wanted their turn with Miss Meriwether they were out of luck. The other guests watched curiously. Some unknown who didn’t know his manners was keeping Miss Meriwether occupied. Who is he, they asked? Have you seen him before? I never have. Who are his people? I believe that’s Lord Renfield’s son, you know, he has that estate in Ireland. Daphne wasn’t worried about their loud guesses, caught up as she was in twirling and laughing with her mystery man. As the sun awoke in pink-light layers the guests dwindled away. The Countess sent the most eligible young men home with offers to visit Hembry Castle. In fact, the Countess said, she would be hosting a grand dinner party at Hembry at the start of the grouse season. Daphne smiled as her grandmother issued the invitations but said nothing, her thoughts still consumed with Edward, who had excused himself with a kiss on her hand at dawn.

It was daylight by the time the last of the guests had gone and the family crawled half-conscious to their beds. Daphne was soon asleep, and she dreamed about her comfortable home on the river in Connecticut, also known as the Thames River, which made her laugh now. In her dream her Uncle Richard was swimming in the river outside their home, which struck Daphne as odd even as she slept. She was jolted from her dream by a loud conversation in the hallway outside her room. She pressed her ear to the door and heard panic in the speaker’s voice, whom she recognized as Mr. Ellis. She opened her door and saw her father in his nightgown, his feet bare, his sleeping cap in his hands. Mr. Ellis was dressed much the same, as though he had rushed from the cottage he shared with Mrs. Ellis. Daphne already dreaded the news. Creaking footsteps made their way upstairs, and then Mrs. Ellis stood beside her husband, the housekeeper tugging her shawl closer around her nightgown.

“What are you saying, Ellis?” Frederick asked.

“It’s his lordship. It’s…” Mr. Ellis couldn’t hide his sorrow. Where he was normally hunched, now he looked as if he would never stand straight again.

“Ellis, please, I must know. Is my brother all right?”

Mrs. Ellis brought a handkerchief to her eyes. “He’s gone.”

“Gone where?” Frederick asked.

“I’m so very sorry.” Mr. Ellis had to settle himself enough to speak. “He’s dead.”

Daphne stepped closer to her father. “That’s not possible.” But the sorrow etched around the Ellises’ features told her it was true. Whatever proof the Ellises had been given, they were convinced, and so was Daphne, and so was her father.

“What shall we do, my lord?” Mr. Ellis asked.

Daphne looked at her father, who stared at the Turkish rug beneath his feet as though the symmetrical pattern held hidden clues to the many questions he would never have answers to.

“My lord?”

Daphne touched her father’s arm. “I think Ellis is speaking to you, Papa.”

The 10th Earl of Staton stared at his butler as though he hardly understood.