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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: Deceived
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George grinned. “Together,” he said.
“Forever!” Cally responded.
“As one!” Aurora finished their pledge.
Valerian Hawkesworth looked puzzled, and the trio laughed.
“Your wife will explain to you,” Oralia said. “Now, go, before I cannot let you go!” She put her handkerchief to her mouth.
The duke helped his bride into the open carriage, and with a wave they were off down to the harbor, Captain Conway, Browne, and Sally following in their own conveyance.
“I do not know if I can bear it,” Oralia said softly.
“Be of good cheer, ma'am,” the Reverend Mr. Edwardes said. “It is God's will that a daughter leave her mother's house for a husband. Your daughter has married incredibly well. Be thankful!”
“George,” Aurora said quickly, “would you be so good as to take our kindly minister down to the boat and have Franklin sail him back over to Barbados. The winds are brisk today, and I believe he can be home in time for lunch. It was so good of you to come to St. Timothy to marry Cally and Valerian, but we cannot keep you further from your parish duties, Reverend Edwardes.” She smiled sweetly.
“Happy to come, Miss Aurora,” he replied. “I hope I shall next see you wed to some fine young man. We have several suitable gentlemen in my parish, among whom might be one who would suit you.”
“Perhaps I shall come over to Barbados for a visit after my brother and I return from England next year, sir,” she replied.
“Your dear mama will be all right, won't she?” the minister inquired solicitously. “Losing a daughter is hard, I know. My good wife and I have married off four in as many years.”
“Mama will be fine,” Aurora assured him.
“Come along, sir,” George said brightly, understanding that Aurora wanted the man gone before Oralia might say something revealing. He took the rector by the arm. “I shall see to his fee,” he murmured to his stepsister, and then he hustled the Reverend Mr. Edwardes out the door before another moment could pass by.
Part II
ENGLAND, 1761
Chapter
4

I
s it always this cold in England?” Aurora asked Captain Conway as the
Royal George
prepared to dock at Dover. She shivered, drawing her hooded cape about her. The deep green wool was lined in rabbit, the hood trimmed with lynx. There were several flannel petticoats beneath her gown, and she was wearing knitted woolen stockings, but she was still chilled to the bone. She shivered.
“It's January, Miss Aurora,” the captain said, “and in England January is always a cold month. Then, too, it's particularly icy out here on the water. It will be better once you're ashore, and your blood will thicken soon enough so that you won't feel the cold.”
“I hope so!” Aurora responded.
England.
It was the most colorless place she had ever seen. The sea was dark, as were the buildings on the shore. The sky was gray, and there was snow everywhere. She had heard of snow, but of course until then she had never seen it.
George joined her at the rail as the captain excused himself. “Are you as cold as I am?” he asked her.
Aurora nodded. “There is no color,” she remarked. “It's quite grim. I cannot imagine Cally likes it much, although her letter, when she wrote, did not offer any complaint.”
“Mama lives for her letters,” George replied. “We must see that Cally writes her more often. She cannot be so overwhelmed with her duties as a duchess that she has no time to write Mama.”
“Do Wickham and Martha have everything packed and ready for us to disembark? Do you think the duke will meet us?”
“He'll probably send a coach to take us up to London,” George said. “And, yes, the trunks are ready.”
They returned to the salon to warm themselves. Very shortly the
Royal George
docked, its heavy lines securing it to the shore. The gangway was lowered, and the passengers began to depart the ship. Actually there had been few passengers on this crossing: a children's tutor returning to England on the death of his mother, two young women from Barbados who were being sent to school, and their chaperon, a rather quiet older woman coming to visit her daughter, who was married to a clergyman in Oxfordshire. They had all been mightily impressed by the two siblings from St. Timothy, who, the captain had informed them, were coming to England to visit their sister, the Duchess of Farminster.
As George and Aurora stepped to the head of the gangway, they saw Cally waving madly to them and calling their names. She stood next to a magnificent traveling coach, and was accompanied by a gentleman, not her husband. They hurried off the ship, Wickham and Martha following.
Cally hurled herself enthusiastically at her brother and stepsister. “Darlings! I thought you would never get here!” She hugged them both, kissing them on their cheeks. Her scent was overwhelming.
“Where is Valerian?” George questioned his sister as the baggage was being loaded on a smaller coach in which the servants would travel. “I thought perhaps he would come with you.”
“Valerian?
I really don't know where he is,” Cally said in unconcerned tones. “Possibly he is down in the country. Dear brother, we were misled. He may bear the title of duke, but the man is a farmer! Imagine! A farmer! He would rather spend his time with his horses and cattle and sheep than in the society of elegant people.”
“No matter, Cally,” Aurora said sharply. “You still bear the title of duchess, and do not, as far as I can see, want for anything.”
“Oh, Aurora, it is good that you have not changed. Did I not tell you, Trahern? Her wit is wonderfully sharp.” She had turned to the man accompanying her. He was very tall, and slender, and fair. “Trahern, this is my sister, Aurora. Aurora darling, this is Charles, Lord Trahern. I brought him especially for you.”
“How embarrassing for both me and for Lord Trahern,” Aurora answered her stepsister, annoyed. “I think you know, Cally, how very much I dislike
anyone
choosing a gentleman for me.” Her meaning was very pointed, and for the briefest moment Calandra looked uncomfortable.
Then she giggled. “Oh, you are so naughty!” she simpered. Lord Trahern's thin lips had twitched with amusement when Aurora had delivered her put-down of her stepsister. Now he caught Aurora's gloved hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. “Miss Spencer-Kimberly, I am delighted to meet you, even if you are not delighted to meet me.” Calandra had been babbling for weeks about this sibling, and what a good match she would be. God knows he needed a wife with an income, but this girl was far too intelligent to be fooled, unlike dear little Calandra, whose sole interests were bound up with her own pleasures and her own desires. He returned Aurora's hand.
“Cally,” George said, “you may be used to this weather, but we are not. Let us get into your coach. Where are you taking us?”
“London!” Cally said brightly. “It's a long drive, but we will go straight through. Trahern was kind enough to arrange for extra horses for the coach along the way. Come along now!”
It was a good fifty-mile drive. They stopped three times to exchange horses on both the coaches. Twice they stopped to eat, use the necessary, and get warm by an inn fire. They had docked just after dawn. When they arrived in London it was already dark, and Aurora was still cold and exhausted. Cally had chattered almost the entire way. She babbled about society, and fashion, and the latest gossip.
“The king is to be married this year,” she said.
“The king to wed? He's too old,” George said.
“Ohhh! You don't know, do you? Well,” she answered her own question, “how could you. The old king died in late October. We have a nice new king, and he's going to marry some German princess, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. He's very handsome, the king.” She giggled. “Dull, but handsome. Do you know how the old king died?” She lowered her voice. “He was on his
commode!”
And she giggled wildly again.
“His commode!
Of course they hushed it up so the common people would not hear and make a mockery of it, but naturally they did. All of Europe knows that old King George died sitting on his commode!”
“How mean-spirited of you, Cally,” Aurora chided her stepsister.
“Oh, Aurora!” came the protest. “You are so serious. You must become gayer, or you will never succeed in finding a husband for yourself. Men in polite society do not like bluestockings.”
After what seemed an interminable time, the coach pulled up in front of Farminster House. Servants ran from the mansion to lower the coach's steps, open the door, and help the occupants out. Aurora sighed with gratitude as they entered the warm house. Behind her she could hear her stepsister giving orders to the servants about the baggage.
“Welcome to England, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she heard a voice say.
Looking up as she drew her gloves off, she saw the duke descending the stairs. “Thank you, your grace,” she responded politely.
He took her two cold hands in his warm ones and replied, “I thought we had agreed all those long months ago that you would call me Valerian, Aurora. Lord, you are frozen, I fear. Come into the drawing room, and I will have tea brought. My grandmother has come up from Hawkes Hill with me to greet you. She is waiting for you.”
Ascending the staircase, they entered a magnificent drawing room with a gilded ornamental frieze around its paneled ceiling. The carpets were thick and colorful. The walls were hung with fine portraits, and the mahogany furniture, unlike that in the Indies, was upholstered richly. Heavy velvet draperies hung from the windows, and in a huge fireplace flanked by great stone lions a great warm blaze burned. By the fire sat an elderly lady with snow-white hair. She arose to greet them.
“Grandmama, this is Miss Aurora Spencer-Kimberly,” the duke said. “Aurora, this is my grandmama, the Dowager Duchess of Farminster.”
Aurora curtsied prettily. “How do you do, ma'am,” she said.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth looked sharply at Aurora. Why was the girl's face familiar? She looked nothing like that foolish Calandra. “How do you do, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she answered the girl. Then, seeing Aurora shiver, she said, “Come by the fire, my dear. You are, of course, not used to our English weather.”
“I fear not, ma'am, although Captain Conway assures me that my blood will thicken, and then I shall not feel the cold as deeply.”
The dowager chuckled, and led the girl to a seat by the fire. Her grandson pulled the bell cord on the wall, and when a servant replied sent the fellow for hot tea. Out in the foyer Cally could be heard laughing, and then she called for her stepsister.
“We are in the east drawing room,” the duke responded.
Cally burst into the room, George and Lord Trahern in her wake. “Hawkesworth!” she said, surprised. “What brings you in from the country?” Then her eye spied the dowager. “Oh! Grandmama has come too. Good evening to you, ma'am.” She offered the dowager a scant curtsy.
“Calandra” came the frosty reply.
“We did not expect you, Hawkesworth,” Calandra said.
“Obviously not, my dear,” he answered her. “Good evening, Trahern.” Then he turned and said, “Welcome to England, George.” The brothers-in-law shook hands. “Come now, and meet my grandmother.”
There was something terribly wrong between Cally and her husband, Aurora thought. They were civil to each other—barely—but there was a coolness between them. For some reason, she felt sorrier for the duke than for her stepsister. The young woman chattering brightly in this room was not the sister she remembered. She could tell from just looking at George that he felt the same way. The butler arrived bearing a large silver tray upon which was a teapot, tea saucers, and a plate upon which were delicate triangles of buttered bread and thin slices of fruitcake.
“Tea?
Ohhh, no, no, no, no, no!” Cally trilled. “We would celebrate my brother and stepsister's arrival with champagne! Bring some up from the cellars!” she ordered the butler.
“Cally, I am so cold,” Aurora told her. “I want tea!”
“Oh, very well, but the rest of us shall have champagne!” Cally declared. “Aurora, I hope your attitude stems from exhaustion, and that you are not going to prove to be a dull guest.”
“It was not my understanding that George and I had come to provide entertainment for you, Cally,” Aurora snapped.
“Good for you, girl!” the old dowager said softly.
“Trahern,” the duke said suddenly. “I thank you for accompanying my wife to Dover, but I would assume that you have an engagement elsewhere this evening. We will excuse you.”
Charles, Lord Trahern, bowed to the Duke of Farminster, a small sardonic smile upon his mouth. “Good evening to you, then, your grace,” he said, bowing. Then he left the room.
“I did not want him to go!” Cally said angrily, stamping her foot.
“He overstayed his welcome” came the response from her husband.
“You are always spoiling my fun!” Cally whined. “And now you have given me the headache. I am going to bed, Hawkesworth, and I do not wish to be disturbed by
anyone.”
“Of course, my dear,” the duke said smoothly, and he bowed to her. “Shall I escort you to your room?”
“No!” Cally said sharply, and she departed the drawing room.
There was a long silence. George Spencer-Kimberly looked exceedingly uncomfortable. The dowager looked annoyed. There was a look on Valerian Hawkesworth's face that Aurora could not fathom. She said, “What has happened to my stepsister? I do not know her any longer.”
“She has, I am afraid,” said the dowager, “been seduced by society. I have seen it happen before with these young girls.” She poured a generous dollop of fragrant tea into a deep saucer and handed it to Aurora. “It is worse with Calandra, for she had no contact with real society before she came to England. She tells me she lived on St. Timothy her entire life, and never even visited Barbados. Why on earth did her father not at least take her to Barbados?”
“I believe our father did not quite see Cally and me as growing up into young women,” Aurora said quietly. She took a sip of her tea. It was hot and satisfying. She took another sip, and then set the saucer down upon a small table. “We did not even know of this marriage arrangement Papa had made until we received your letter, ma'am. Only then did my brother, George, open Papa's strongbox, and we found the betrothal agreement. Had Valerian just arrived without prior warning on your part, we should have been even more surprised than we were.”
The dowager nodded. “My late husband and your father were obviously cut from the same cloth,” she said. “No need to trouble the ladies until we must, my James used to say.” She shook her head. “As if women cannot manage on their own. Well, we can, but I suppose to keep them happy, we must pretend we cannot.” She peered at Aurora. “You look a far more sensible miss than your sister, child. Are you?”

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