Edenbrooke (2 page)

“If you are asking about that care-for-nothing father of yours, then no, you did not.”

I looked away to hide my disappointment. “He is probably traveling right now. Perhaps he does not have the opportunity to write.”

“Or perhaps he has forgotten about his children in his self-centered grieving,” she muttered. “Handing his responsibilities off to someone who never asked for them, especially in her old age.”

I flinched; some of Grandmother’s barbs were sharper than others. This was an especially painful topic, as I hated the thought of being a burden, and yet I had nowhere else I might go.

“Do you want me to leave?” I could not help asking.

She scowled at me. “Don’t act like a ninny. I have enough of that to endure with Amelia.” She folded the letter she had been reading. “I have had more bad news about that nephew of mine.”

Ah, the Nefarious Nephew. I should have guessed. Nothing put Grandmother in a sour mood as surely as hearing about the latest scandal involving her heir, Mr. Kellet. He was a rake and a scoundrel and had gambled away all of his own money while waiting to inherit Grandmother’s sizeable fortune. My twin sister, Cecily, thought he was dashing and romantic; I thought him anything but. It was one of many things that she and I disagreed about.

“What has Mr. Kellet done this time?” I asked.

“Nothing fit for your innocent ears.” She sighed, then spoke in a softer voice. “I believe I may have made a mistake, Marianne. He will come to ruin. The damage he has inflicted on the family name is great, and irreparable.” She raised a trembling hand to her brow, looking frail and weary.

I stared at her in surprise. Grandmother had never exhibited such vulnerability before me. It was most unlike her. I leaned toward her and took her hand in mine. “Grandmother? Are you unwell? Is there something I may get for you?”

She shook off my hand. “Don’t coddle me, child. You know I have no patience for such behavior. I am simply tired.”

I bit back a smile. She was well enough, if she could respond like that. But her reaction was unprecedented. She could usually dismiss Mr. Kellet’s bad behavior and remember why he had always been a favorite of hers. (I thought she liked him because he was not afraid of her.) But I had never seen her so worried, nor so despondent.

Grandmother gestured at the pile of letters on the table. “There is a letter for you there. From London. Read it and leave me alone for a few minutes.”

I picked up the letter and walked to the window, letting the sunlight fall on the familiar handwriting. When Papa had brought me to Bath, he had found an even more suitable situation for my twin sister, Cecily. She had been staying with our cousin Edith in London for the past fourteen months and seemed to have enjoyed every moment of it.

For being twins, Cecily and I were remarkably different. She excelled me in every womanly art. She was much more beautiful and refined. She played the pianoforte and sang like an angel. She flirted easily with gentlemen. She liked town life and had dreams of marrying a man with a title. She was ambitious.

My ambitions were quite different from hers. I wanted to live in the country, to ride my horse, to sit in an orchard and paint, to take care of my father, to feel that I belonged, to do something useful and good with my time. But most of all, I wanted to be loved for who I was. My ambitions seemed quiet and dull compared to Cecily’s. Sometimes I feared that
I
seemed quiet and dull next to Cecily.

Lately, all I heard from Cecily was about her dearest friend Louisa Wyndham and her handsome and titled eldest brother, whom Cecily was determined to marry. Cecily had never told me his name—he was simply “the brother” in her letters. I supposed she was afraid of her letters being seen by someone less discreet than I. Perhaps it was my maid, Betsy, that she was worried about, who was, after all, the most incurable gossip I had ever known.

I had not told Cecily this, but I had recently asked Betsy the name of the eldest Wyndham son, and she had discovered that it was Charles. Sir Charles and Lady Cecily had a nice ring to it, I thought. Of course it followed that if Cecily chose to marry him, then marry him she would. She had never failed to get something she really wanted.

Before I broke the seal on her letter, I closed my eyes and made a silent wish:
Please don’t let her go on and on about dear Louisa and her handsome brother again.
I had nothing against the Wyndhams—after all, our mothers had been close friends as children, and I had just as much a claim on the acquaintance as Cecily—but I had heard of little else for the past two months, and I was beginning to wonder if I was as important to her as the Wyndhams were. I opened the letter and read.

Dearest Marianne,

I am so sorry to hear that Bath feels like a prison to you. I cannot comprehend the feeling myself, loving London as I do. Perhaps as twins I received all of the civilization in my heart while you received all of nature in yours. We are certainly not divided evenly in this instance, are we?

(Incidentally, as your sister, I can forgive you for writing things like, “I would rather have sunshine and wind and sky adorn my head than a handsome bonnet.” But, please, I beg of you, do not say such things to others. I fear they would find you quite shocking.)

Knowing of your current state of misery, I shall not bother you with an account of all that I have done this past week. I will say only this: my first season in Town is as diverting as I had hoped it would be. But I will not try your patience today with saying more than that, lest you tear up this letter before reading the important news I am sending you.

My dearest friend Louisa Wyndham has invited me to stay with her at her estate in the country. I understand it is very grand. It is called Edenbrooke and is situated in Kent. We leave for the country in a fortnight. But here is the important part: you are invited as well! Lady Caroline has extended the invitation to include you, as we are both daughters of the “dearest friend” of her childhood.

Oh, say you will come, and we shall have the grandest time imaginable. I might even need your help in my quest to become “Lady Cecily” (doesn’t that sound grand?), for, of course, the brother will be there, and this is my chance to secure him. Besides, it will give you an opportunity to meet my future family.

With devotion,

Cecily

Hope gripped me so hard it left me breathless. To be in the country again! To leave Bath and its horrid confines! To be with my sister after being apart for so long! It was too much to take in. I read the letter again, slowly this time, savoring each word. Of course Cecily did not really need my help to secure Sir Charles’s affections. I could offer her nothing that she could not do better herself when it came to courting. But this letter was proof that I was still important to her—that she hadn’t forgotten me. Oh, what a sister! This could be the solution to all of my problems. This could give me a reason to twirl again.

“Well? What does your sister say?” Grandmother asked.

I turned toward her eagerly. “She has invited me to go with her to the Wyndhams’ estate in Kent. She leaves from London in a fortnight.”

Grandmother pursed her wrinkled lips, gazing at me with a speculative look, but said nothing. My heart dropped. She would not refuse to let me go, would she? Not when she knew what it would mean to me?

I pressed the letter to my chest as my heart ached at the thought of being denied this unexpected blessing. “Will you give your permission?”

She looked at the letter she still held—the one bearing the bad news about Mr. Kellet. Then she tossed the letter onto the table and sat up straight in her chair.

“You may go, but only on one condition. You must alter your wild ways. No running about out of doors all day. You must learn to behave like an elegant young lady. Take lessons from your sister; she knows how to behave well in society. I cannot have my heir behaving like a wild child. I will not be embarrassed by you, as I have been by that nephew of mine.”

I stared at her. Her heir? “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what you think I mean. I am disinheriting Mr. Kellet and bestowing the bulk of my fortune on you. At this time, your portion amounts to roughly forty thousand pounds.”

Chapter 2

I knew my mouth was open, but I could not seem to find the strength to close it. Forty thousand pounds! I had no idea Grandmother was
that
wealthy.

“Of course,” she continued, “there is no estate attached to it, but hopefully you will marry into one. The least you could do with my fortune is try to achieve a brilliant match.” She stood and walked to her writing desk. “I know the Wyndhams. I will write to Lady Caroline myself and accept the invitation on your behalf. A fortnight will leave us just enough time to have new gowns made for you. We must begin preparations immediately.”

She sat at her desk and pulled a piece of paper toward her. I could not seem to move. The course of my life had just changed, with no warning and no pause.

She glanced up. “Well? What do you have to say?”

I swallowed. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“You might start with thank you.”

I smiled weakly. “Of course I’m grateful, Grandmother. I am only . . . overwhelmed. I’m not sure I am suitable for this responsibility.”

“That is the point of this visit to Edenbrooke—to make yourself suitable. The Wyndhams are a very respected family. You could learn much from being with them. In fact, that is my stipulation. I will have you become a proper young lady, Marianne. You will write to me while you are there and tell me what you are learning, or else I will call you back here and train you myself.”

My thoughts were whirling, and I could hardly grasp onto one long enough to make sense of it.

“You look pale,” Grandmother said. “Go upstairs and lie down. You will find your balance soon enough. But do not mention a word of this inheritance to that maid of yours! It is not the sort of information you want others to know about at this time. If you cannot discourage a simpleton like Mr. Whittles, you will be helpless against other, more cunning men who will be after your fortune. Let me decide when to make this news known. I still have to notify that nephew of mine.”

I shook my head. “Of course I will not tell anyone.” I chewed on my lower lip. “But what about Aunt Amelia’s inheritance? And Cecily’s?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Amelia’s portion is independent of yours. Don’t worry about her. And Cecily does not need a fortune to make a brilliant match—you do.”

This inheritance was born of pity? Because Grandmother did not think I could marry without it? I felt I should be embarrassed about this revelation, but I felt singularly unmoved, as if an important conduit between my mind and heart had been severed. I walked slowly toward the door. Perhaps I did need to lie down a while.

I opened the door and was nearly bowled over by Mr. Whittles. He must have been leaning on the door, for he stumbled, off-balance, into the room.

“Pardon me!” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Whittles!” I stepped backward quickly so as to avoid contact with him.

“I—I have returned for my poem. So that I might make the changes you suggested.”

I looked beyond him to see Aunt Amelia waiting in the hall. At least that explained his presence in the house. I took his poem from my pocket and handed it to him, being careful not to touch his hand. He bowed and thanked me four times as he backed out of the room and down the hall to the front door. The man was utterly ridiculous.

But at the sight of him, a feeling of excitement rushed through me, bridging the strange gap I had felt between my mind and heart. Never mind the inheritance—I would think on that later. I would soon be able to leave Bath, and hopefully never see Mr. Whittles again. I smiled and turned to run up the stairs. I had a letter to write.

I wrote to Cecily to accept her invitation, but I did not mention the inheritance. Despite Grandmother’s assurances, I could not believe that Cecily would be as indifferent about not inheriting a fortune as Grandmother felt about not leaving her one. I certainly couldn’t keep forty thousand pounds to myself while my twin sister enjoyed only a small dowry. It did not sit comfortably with me to be at such an unfair advantage.

But I decided, after a few days of worrying over it, that there would be plenty of time to work it out with Cecily in the future. After all, the fortune was not even mine at this point. And Grandmother was still spry. It could be years before the money came into my possession. For my part, I would tell no one of it until it actually became a reality.

The following two weeks passed in a blur of frenzied visits to dressmakers and milliners’ shops. I should have enjoyed all of the shopping, but the thought of being on display at Edenbrooke turned my pleasure into anxiety. What if I embarrassed Cecily in front of her future family? Perhaps she would regret inviting me. And could I possibly behave myself with the decorum that my grandmother expected of me? I worried over these matters until it was time to leave Bath.

On the morning of my departure, Grandmother took one look at me over breakfast and declared, “You look positively green, child. Whatever is the matter with you?”

I forced a small smile and said, “I am well. Only a little jittery, I suppose.”

“You had better not eat anything. You look like the type to become sick on long carriage rides.”

I remembered well the ride to Bath. I had been ill three times during the journey, once all over my boots. I definitely did not want to arrive at a strange house in that state.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I said, pushing away my plate. I had no appetite anyway.