What the Fates Decree: The Caversham Chronicles-The Titans of the Revolution (4 page)

BOOK: What the Fates Decree: The Caversham Chronicles-The Titans of the Revolution
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And also about trusting your gut when it came to men.

That which a mother does for her daughter.

B
everly lifted
the quill to begin her nightly letter to her husband. It was how they stayed in touch with the day-to-day events in each others’ lives. After leaving his commission in the army upon ascending to his title and marrying her, he had begun a life in the Foreign Service as a diplomat for the Crown, at the recommendation of her father, who’d done the same up until his passing. She’d wanted to travel with Kip when Penelope was young, but he thought it more important for their daughter to be raised and educated at home in England.

She envied Lia and Elise that their husbands were home with them virtually every night and that they were able to have siblings for their children. Kip had been traumatized by Penelope’s birth. Especially when he thought Beverly was going to die. After she’d recovered he’d told her he loved her too much to put her through that again.

Then he began to take assignments out of the country. And if Beverly hadn’t hated the Foreign Service before for taking her father from her for most of her life, she hated it now. But her husband wasn’t happy living the life of a landless nobleman. He’d wanted to effect change in the world through the diplomatic channels that had opened up to him because of his military training, and her father’s urging. Her husband was a happier diplomat, than he was an idle gentleman. Beverly couldn’t deny him that which made him feel fulfilled, just as he would never deny her that which made her happy—her daughter, her friendship with Elise and Lia, and her horses.

When he’d first begun to travel, gossips whispered behind her back that her husband was unhappy with his decision to marry her. She remembered the night he surprised her, having arrived from Dublin unplanned. Her maid informed him where she was, and he’d arrived at the Rutherford’s annual ball to find her on the dance floor with Elise’s husband, Michael. It was a scene straight from a fairytale in her mind. Her handsome husband cut in, asking his friend for permission to dance with her, his wife.

For the rest of that evening, and duration of his stay, Kip was the most attentive, affectionate husband in all London. But she learned later, that he returned home unannounced because the Prime Minister had called upon him to take another, more urgent, assignment in India, where unrest was flaring up in the northern regions.

Kip had promised her that he was not going to India in a military capacity. His task was negotiations.

And for the past six years, he had come home for a month or two every year. In his last letter, he’d said he would be home for Christmas this year.

This life was familiar to her, as her father had done the same for many years. And though Beverly’s mother had died when she was young, Penelope still had her to guide her as she grew into adulthood. Perhaps after Penny married, Beverly could travel with her husband to his assignments. She missed Kip greatly while he was away, and she’d often thought that if he were home more, perhaps she might have had another child. It was still possible, if she could keep him in the country long enough. She wasn’t past her childbearing years yet. Though Kip would probably have hysterics if she turned up pregnant. Silly man.

But if she had another child, her husband would insist she remain in England while he continued to travel as a political envoy. If she married off Penny, there was a very good chance that she might once again be a bit more of a priority in her husband’s life.

She wanted that so very much, but not at the expense of her daughter’s happiness.

Penelope didn’t share confidences with her. Beverly wasn’t sure that was normal. But not having a mother of her own, she wasn’t exactly sure what normal really was. Lia and Elise had both said their daughters didn’t confide their innermost thoughts and desires with them either. Of the three of them, Lia was the only one who’d had the benefit of a mother for most of her younger life, and she said that she didn’t remember sharing confidences with her mother at all.

Dipping the tip into the ink well, Beverly began,

G
ood evening
, my darling,

I pray this night finds you feeling well. I am, of course, missing you greatly as usual.

Well, my lord, another social season has ended. I’m making plans for closing up the townhouse for our return to Fenwicke Hall next week. Penelope will likely go to Woodhenge to stay with Charlotte for a few weeks before joining me.

Remember the invitation to Rathcavan we received a few weeks ago? And do you remember that I initially had reservations about going? Well, once I realized that my main reason for not wanting to attend was entirely selfish, I knew I had to change my thinking for Penelope’s sake. Because I haven’t regained my full confidence in the saddle yet, I wouldn’t feel comfortable riding out with the first flight hunters. But I also could not deny Penelope (and Isabel and Charlotte) the opportunity to ride with your aunt on Rathcavan lands. The girls would get such inspiration from her. I know I do each time I visit with her. So I have decided to go to your Aunt Adina’s birthday celebration and hunt.

I’m glad I didn’t immediately respond to decline her invitation, because a few days after I received Lady Adina’s letter, I received another from your cousin, Margaret. It seems the new earl’s sister, Lady Olivia, is betrothed to a young man, having met him less than one month ago. And now there will be a betrothal ball at the end of the month that we’re there.

So it has now been decided that Penny and I, along with Charlotte, and Isabel, will all attend. Both Lia and Elise have said they wish to remain behind to spend time with their husbands and younger children.

Of course, you know I wish you could be with us to celebrate your aunt’s momentous birthday and your niece’s engagement. I also wish our daughter could find love. She needs a man who can appreciate her for the exceptional young lady we know her to be.

A year has passed since her heart was broken by that young man from Spain. If I hadn’t been recuperating from my fall at Fenwicke Hall I would have met him. You know how upset I was that I could not be with Penelope when she was going through her disappointment. I wasn’t there to hold her through her tears, and blame myself for her returning home from town early nursing a broken heart.

Penny seems to have recovered somewhat from the heartbreak. While she is socializing with her friends and attending functions, she is not the same young lady she was before her young man disappeared. She shows absolutely no interest in finding a husband right now. Though, I hope she might change her mind in Scotland, where there are sure to be new faces, including young men she’s not previously met. Surely if she meets the right man, she will fall in love with him, as I did with you.

I will, of course, keep you apprised of our plans as we get closer to departing for Rathcavan. It would be wonderful if you could join us. Not only would it be a splendid birthday surprise for your aunt, but also for Penelope and myself. We all miss you very much. Me especially. Every night we’re not together makes me wish I were with you in Mumbai.

I will close for now, my darling. Know that I pray for your safe return daily.

All my love,

B.

B
everly sealed
the letter and added it to the pouch she would send with a footman to her husband’s secretary at the diplomatic offices, just as she did each week. And when her footman returned each week, he brought her another one exactly like it, containing letters for her and Penny, from Kip.

She then wrote two short notes, one to Elise, the other to Lia, asking them over for tea the next day to discuss the invitation again. Hopefully Elise had come to a decision. But whether she did or did not, Beverly would have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

T
he maid closed
the door to her drawing room and Beverly poured tea for herself and her two dearest friends. She filled the china cups to the perfect level of one third of an inch below the rim, leaving the right amount of room for two spoons of sugar, and a dash of milk should her guests wish it.

Some habits stuck with you throughout life, such as this one—even though she knew neither Elise nor Lia took milk in their tea.

She remembered when she was a child, how one of her early governesses tried to instill in her the requirements for being the perfect hostess. She’d been the first of a long succession of governesses her papa had hired to raise Beverly with the proper skills to find her future husband—something he could not do himself, as he was frequently away doing his work as a diplomat. This particular woman was a very strict disciplinarian, who’d lasted barely three months. The day Lord Hepplewhite found his daughter in tears after the lesson on stirring tea in the cup without sloshing, splashing, or spilling, her dear papa had fired that first governess.

Truth was, Beverly had been tired of practicing her pouring, serving, stirring, and whatnot, that she had become bored to tears, quite literally. She’d much rather have been out riding her pony. And ever one to jump on an opportunity to turn something tedious into something more exciting, Beverly had heard her father enter the house and thus began her display of theatrics. Yes, she’d been a manipulative brat as a child. One who’d craved the affection and attention of her only parent.

Then she met the twin of her heart, Elise Halden. From that day forward she and Elise had been inseparable. Elise was like a sister to her, and Lia had become her best friend almost the instant she met the duchess. They were fortunate in that their husbands also got along. As a young lady of noble birth, but without much family of her own, Beverly was grateful this family had taken her in and made her one of them.

She handed Elise her cup and saucer. She couldn’t read her expression, and Beverly thought she still might have to convince Elise that she will watch over Charlotte—over all the girls—as if they were her own. Now that she decided that it would do Penelope good to go to Rathcavan, she thought having Isabel and Charlotte along would help her daughter face Mr. Santiago again. Even if her daughter thought she had already dealt with the heartache, Beverly knew that just seeing the object of her past desire with another young lady would be painful. Hopefully, her friends’ support through the reopening of that old wound would ease the pain of it. And perhaps Penelope would discover that the old wound was not so painful after all. Beverly could only hope. But she wanted her daughter’s friends along just in case they were needed.

Beverly thought she saw Elise smile but it was such a faint smile tucked away in her light brown gaze, she wasn’t sure. Handing her the cup and saucer, Beverly had to ask. “Have you decided, Elise?” She tried to keep her voice free of any trace of happiness, at least until she knew what her friend’s decision would be.

“I have,” Elise replied. “As I said yesterday, I wanted to discuss this with Michael. He is fine with Charlotte being away for a month.”

Lia set her cup down. “Good, now we can all make arrangements for the girls. As I suspected, Ren insists that Isabel’s guards travel with her, and I can accept that. And though I haven’t asked Marcus yet, he will go if I insist.”

A great relief washed over Beverly. “I believe the girls will have a very nice time, Elise. And if they decide they wish for me to stay and not visit Henrietta Ormelee, I am more than willing to spend the entire time at Rathcavan.” She glanced at the door behind her to make sure it was still closed. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Isabel and Charlotte will be with Penelope when she sees Mr. Santiago again. She will surely need their support.”

“I hope you are right in thinking she can handle the shock of seeing him with her cousin,” Elise said. “It would have torn me up inside to see Michael with another woman.”

“It did,” Beverly said. “Remember the punch incident at the theater?” Beverly reminded Elise of the night they both went to the theater with Kip and Captain Wilson. Kip was Elise’s escort that night, and their foursome, along with Captain Wilson’s sister, arrived to the Caversham box, only to find Michael already there with Lady Caroline Randolph and her mother. What ensued later was something Kip and Beverly still found humorous, twenty-two years later. As Elise tells the story, it was an accident bumping into Michael as he held drinks. And as Michael tells it, he did whatever he needed to do to get Elise alone.

“Oh,” Elise twisted her lips in contemplation. “You are correct, but I was incredibly tough. And I’m afraid… I’m afraid that Penelope’s heart will break all over again seeing…

“You needn’t fear that Penny’s heart could break more than it already did when the man she was growing to love disappeared from her life without a word as to where he was going, or whether he would return. Nothing.” Beverly hoped she was right about this. If she was wrong it was
her
daughter’s heart that would break again. And she, Penelope’s mother, would be responsible.

“In a way,” Lia said softly, “this could be just the sort of ending she needs—a finality, if you will.”

Elise set her cup on the table and added her sugar. “Have you reconsidered not telling her about her cousin’s betrothal? And, more importantly, who the groom is?”

Beverly sighed and closed her eyes, wishing there was some way around this one issue. But there was not. “I’ve given this some thought. Remember, we’re speaking of my dearest and only child. Would it hurt less to know who her cousin is marrying before they marry, or after the wedding? And, I believe she should know beforehand. If it were me, I would want to know. Too, I would never consider putting her through this if I didn’t think it might help her to move forward with finding another man to love.”

“I hope you’re both right,” Elise said.

The sound of their daughters entering the front door of Beverly’s Mayfair home reached her ears. It was an almost exuberant, chattering sound—something Beverly hadn’t heard from her daughter in a while. It had been normal up until a year ago. Very normal.

BOOK: What the Fates Decree: The Caversham Chronicles-The Titans of the Revolution
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