What the Fates Decree: The Caversham Chronicles-The Titans of the Revolution (3 page)

E
lise rested
her head against the deep-cushioned, leather wingback chair in her husband’s office. It was her favorite place to sit in the afternoons, while she waited for him to come home from his club. The soft leather smelled like the cigars Michael occasionally smoked. It was an earthy and sweet scent. Like him. And this was where she wanted to be when he walked into the house.

With all the uncertainty in life, she knew if she kept her close, Charlotte would be safe. Because she feared what might happen without her being there, she seriously struggled with sending her daughter to Scotland.

If she were honest, there was a tiny, childish part of her that was jealous. Lady Adina had some excellent horses in her stable. Several years back, Elise had purchased a few mares from the woman. How she’d love to go back to Rathcavan for an entire month with Beverly. The lands were vast, the terrain was exciting to race across, and Elise hadn’t been in several years.

But Beverly and Lia had a valid point. Their daughters had been out for four seasons. That was three and a half years on the marriage mart. And in that time they met the many eligible young men who came to London in search of appropriate brides. Only one of the three girls had shown interest in a young man. Penelope had fancied a man the previous year—a young man whose family was barely connected, his mother was a younger daughter of a baronet, and his Spaniard father was in trade. He was neither noble nor wealthy. He was from Spain and had come to England for his university studies, remaining after graduation. He’d made the rounds of some of the events last year, attending with a few of his friends.

After somehow winning Penelope’s heart, he had disappeared without any explanation, leaving her heartbroken. It was a difficult thing for a mother to watch, even if Penelope wasn’t her own child. Charlotte and Isabel had rallied around their friend. For the rest of last year’s season, the three young ladies had avoided events where they knew their friends with beaux would be in attendance. It was too painful for Penelope to be around happy couples. The threesome went to musicales, the theater, teas, museums, rides in the park, even poetry readings, but only with other ladies. Charlotte and Isabel had even avoided mingling with men to help their friend through her heartbreak.

It was not different from what Elise had done for Beverly when she’d had her heart broken. But, where she and Beverly planned and manipulated situations to their benefit, Charlotte did not. Neither did Penelope, nor Isabel. Perhaps Elise and Beverly were so conniving when they were younger because they didn’t have mothers for most of their youth.

More than anything, Elise feared her daughter getting her heart broken. Having experienced it herself once, the pain of a broken heart wasn’t something she would wish for her sweet Charlotte.

Lia was right, their three girls had been sheltered, perhaps even indulged. In giving them what they most loved—the often excessive time with their horses and the advanced riding instruction—their daughters missed out on some of the other things normal girls their age would have experienced.

They should have had first loves and, possibly, broken hearts by now. Many girls their age were already married, even mothers.
They
were married and mothers by their daughters’ age.

At nineteen, Elise had been abducted and almost horrifically abused at the hands of a young man she had initially trusted. And to this very day, it influenced her. As a mother, she’d tried to warn Charlotte to be careful not to give any young man hopes that she was interested unless she truly was. Before any young man could come courting, her father had to give his approval. Yes, she had promised her daughter she could have love, but Elise wanted Charlotte to always be mindful that she gave no man any false hope, and did not encourage him unless she was seriously considering spending the rest of her life with him. She didn’t want Charlotte to anger any young man to the point he might harm her.

Then it struck her. Had Elise warned her daughter to the point of frightening her away from all young men?

Remorse washed over her. Had Elise caused her daughter to fear the opposite sex? Had she transposed her fear onto her daughter?

If so, she’d done her daughter an enormous disservice. Not all young men were like the one who’d abducted her. There were honorable and worthy young men out there in society who would make Charlotte an excellent husband. She just had to find them. And Charlotte was never going to find a young man if Elise didn’t let her daughter have some freedom.

Elise had to take a leap of faith that Lia was right about this. She had to trust that their daughters would best learn how to navigate their romantic lives away from the watchful eye of their mothers and society gossips.

Her daughter could return home more dispirited than before. Elise wanted to protect Charlotte, but keeping her home while Penelope and Isabel went to Scotland wouldn’t prevent a broken heart.

Even worse, keeping Charlotte at home would tell her daughter that she, the mother who loved her, didn’t trust her to make safe and adult decisions. Or as Lia said earlier that day, Charlotte would never learn to fly. She needed to trust Charlotte
and
give her her head. She would have to let go, just as she would a horse who was ready to move on to another home, another rider.

Elise had a decision to make. On the one hand, if she chose to send Charlotte, she would be devastated if her precious daughter was hurt, either physically or emotionally. And on the other hand, Charlotte would be terribly upset, and rightfully so, to have her two best friends go on this adventure while her mother still wanted to treat her like a child and keep her close to her skirts.

Lia and Beverly said they would understand if she decided to not let her daughter go. If Charlotte stayed home, then more than likely Isabel and Penelope would decide to remain at home as well. It was what their girls did. One never went without the others. That one characteristic reminded the entire
ton
of their mothers when they were younger.

To bring the comparison even closer, for the past two years, the girls had each worn one of their mothers’ more famous costumes to the Whippleworth’s annual masque, causing some to begin calling Charlotte, Isabel, and Penelope,
The Young Fates
, a name given to their mothers some twenty years earlier. She had to admit that she’d enjoyed seeing the girls wear their dresses. And to improve on their costume, their daughters had carried it a step further, clasping tight to a gold cord between them most of the night, solidifying the mythological image.

Was she being unreasonable to fear so for her daughter’s well-being? She’d have to learn to let go of her oldest child at some point. Charlotte was the daughter of her heart. And at twenty-one, she was very nearly an exact replica of Elise, equally tall and thin, but with her father’s dark brown hair and expressive brown eyes.

To Elise, Charlotte was the most beautiful and graceful young lady currently out in society. But, just the other day, her precious daughter had confided to her that she felt the more awkward of the three because of her height. She didn’t feel as feminine as Isabel or Penelope. Her daughter said she’d wished she had larger breasts and hips, or some curl to her hair. Fighting tears, Elise could only commiserate—because her daughter had every single one of her features.

She wished Charlotte could see what an unmatched beauty she was. Elise could see it in her daughter, though she, too, hadn’t been able to see it in herself in her younger days. She wished she could pour the wisdom she’d acquired with age into Charlotte’s head, so her daughter would not have to go through the pain of learning it.

Elise believed that somewhere out there was a man who would appreciate Charlotte for the beautiful spirit she had inside, and for her physical beauty. That’s what she wanted for her daughter—a man who would love her for who she was, not for her connections or dowry. Perhaps this paragon of gentlemanly virtue was in Scotland. Heaven knew her daughter wasn’t having any luck finding him in London.

The rational side of her knew the girls and Marcus would be fine because they would have guards protecting them. And if she stayed home, she could spend that month at home with the young horses her grooms were starting under saddle. She loved riding when the air had a chilly nip to it. The cooler temperatures made both Elise and her horses feel more alive.

The boys would be away at their schools—her son Andrew at Eton, and Jonathan starting his first year at Oxford. She adored all three of her children. But admittedly, more time had been shared with Charlotte as she grew up. It was the reason they were so close. Her daughter had been educated in their home. They shared breakfast and dinner each day. Charlotte had inherited Elise’s love and way with horses, as had Penelope from Beverly, and Isabel from her father. Lia had decided long ago that she was not adept at riding horses and rode in carriages, with drivers and footmen to protect her, per her husband’s command.

When it came to the safety of his family, her brother took no chances. So, if Lia was hoping to get her husband to agree to allow their two oldest children on such a journey, she would have to convince Ren that they would be safe. And even then, her husband would probably hire more guards just to be sure.

For Elise, it would likely be the opposite. Michael would think that as long as Charlotte was protected by one of their footmen and properly chaperoned, it would be a wonderful idea for her to go with Beverly to Lady Fitzhugh’s event. He would see it as an opportunity for Charlotte to meet new people and have fun with her friends at the same time.

She’d given it much consideration of late. Elise knew she was the one who had to get over the fear that someone might hurt her daughter. The fear was likely a remnant of her trauma all those years ago. It had been horrible, both she and Lia suffering at the hands of different men trying to hurt Ren by hurting them. Because of that, she knew her brother would take no chances with their safety. Elise wouldn’t even have to ask him to make sure there were enough guards. He would do it for his own peace of mind.

She heard muted voices, then footsteps in the hallway. Michael being greeted by their butler. Her husband asked after her, and she smiled to herself. She loved him so very much. He was a wise man and much like Lia, in that he didn’t see the world as inherently evil. Whereas there were more days of late when she did. Especially since the recent attempts on the queen’s life.

Elise gave her husband a little smile as he entered the room. His handsome face still warmed her from within. Her love for him had only grown deeper each year of their marriage. He came over to her and kissed the top of her head, a habit of his for as long as she could remember.

“How are you my darling?” His voice sounded almost cheerful this afternoon.

“Well, thank you.” Tilting her face up, she closed her eyes and waited for the tender kiss on her lips that came after the kiss on her head. He was a man of habit. Next, he’d pour himself a drink and ask if she’d like one. He always asked.

Michael went to the sideboard and poured himself a half glass of whisky. “Would you care for a glass of wine?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, please,” she replied. “Tonight, I could use a glass. I might even need two before I come to a decision.”

He handed her the wine glass and sat next to her in the matching wingback chair, his facing the unlit hearth. The weather had been warm enough lately to not require a fire until much later in the evening, if at all.

“Tell me, my minx,” Michael said after taking a sip of his liquor, “what has you in such a cudgel? Does the milliner have a hat you fancy?”

Elise gave Michael a worried smile, then told him about the invitation to Rathcavan and her concerns for letting Charlotte go without her.

“I think they will be fine, as long as they each have a guard to accompany them when they are outside of the home.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other before taking another sip of the dark amber liquid. “I believe the girls will enjoy getting away from town for a while.”

“I know they will enjoy and appreciate the time out of the spotlight.” She remembered how people gossiped about her and Beverly, and knew her daughter and goddaughters suffered the same. “And it’s always a good feeling to be out of sight from those judgmental harridans who gossip.”

“I believe them to be as safe there as they would be at Woodhenge, Haldenwood, or Fenwicke Hall,” Michael assured her.

She was unable to meet his gaze, knowing he was likely right. But it did nothing to ease the fear she had that Charlotte might get her heart broken and she wouldn’t be there to comfort her. There were so many times when she was younger that she wished her mother, or Amelia, had still been alive. Because she had no mother to talk to when Michael had broken her heart. At the time, she was afraid to burden her grandmother who was already frail. And all she had were her friends, Beverly and Lia.

To this very day, Elise regretted her rudeness to Lia when they were first introduced. She remembered thinking Lia an interloper looking to change everything at Haldenwood, everyone else be damned. But Elise had been so very wrong about her. Lia had been a young lady in need of a friend, as much as she and Beverly were in need of a friend who thought about things in a more rational way—something she had been incapable of doing at the time.

Too, Lia had always been a much better judge of character than Elise.

She stared into her glass trying not to cry. “You have more faith in people than I do,” she whispered.

He gave her a sympathetic little smile, one that told her he understood where her sentiment came from. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sincere. “Even with all that has happened to our family and friends, and the queen, I still believe in the inherent goodness of mankind.”

Elise remembered how she had gone against her initial instinct and trusted the man who abducted her. She’d been a bad judge of his character and made a mental note to talk to her daughter about heeding the warnings of the other women, including Beverly, who would be chaperoning them.