Where Love Restores (Where There is Love Book 4) Page 22

  “Yes, yes, he was. He has driven directly from London to bring Papa a letter from our brother. Oh, Georgie, you don’t suppose it’s bad news, do you? If it is, Papa will be all out of sorts and not at all ready to hear Fred’s suit.” She clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t think of it! What could be so particular that Frederick should be obliged to bring a letter from Henry? Why couldn’t he have sent it by post? Oh, Georgie, I’m worried to distraction. Hold me!”

  Agatha found the sisters locked in one another’s arms when she entered the room a few minutes later. “His Grace is asking for you, milady.”

  “For me?” Charlotte cried. “Oh, how did he look? Was he smiling? Oh, say he was. He must have been smiling.”

  “For both of you—Lady Charlotte and Lady Georgiana.”

  “Both of us? How very singular. Georgie, I’m glad you are to come with me. I’m all in a quake.” Charlotte practically pulled her sister down the stairs, barely pausing to catch her breath and smooth her hair before entering the Oak Room.

  The room, named for the black oak Jacobean paneling brought to Troy House for safekeeping from Raglan Castle when the castle was threatened by a Roundhead siege, was already occupied. The duke sat with his left foot elevated on a stool. The hurriedly summoned duchess sat in a chair near his, and the Honorable Mr. Calthorpe stood before them. Charlotte squeezed her sister’s hand until Georgiana winced.

  The duke cleared his throat and waved a piece of paper with a broken red wax seal before them. “Mr. Calthorpe has been so good as to bring us word from your brother. My dears, prepare yourselves for a shock.”

  Georgiana squeezed Charlotte’s hand tighter yet. What could it be? Could Henry have died? She held her breath and looked at her father.

  “He was married three days ago at a private service in St. George’s Church, Hanover Square.”

  “Married!” Georgiana cried, her pent-up breath rushing out with the word. “To Emily? Did they find a way around the degrees of affinity?”

  “Your brother was advised that since the connection was within the proscribed bounds, the match would be voidable but not void. Therefore, he thought it best to make the object of his heart’s desire a fait accompli and trust that no action would be taken by an ecclesiastical court to set it aside. Since the lady’s stepmother supports the match, it seems that Culling-Smith will not take steps to overset it.” He turned to Frederick. “Sir, will you ring for some port that we may felicitate them in absentia?”

  The duchess wiped her eyes. “Oh, I am so happy for them. I knew at Christmas that she was the right one for him. It was clear he was head over heels in love with her.

  “And it was certainly time he should be married in order to put a stop to the reports and stories. My sister Granville informs me that the town gossips have married him to three different women since Christmas.” When the ordered tray arrived the duchess held her glass before her and said, “Joy to them.”

  “And progeny,” the duke added bluntly. “That young Corinthian had best remember his duty to the family and produce an heir.”

  The family laughed and sipped the deep red liquid. But Charlotte, who had not let go of Georgiana’s hand through the entire proceeding, whispered, “Is that all? Hasn’t he anything to say to my happiness? My fagot band was the first to break.”

  “Hush,” her sister whispered. “It’s unlikely Fred has had opportunity to speak to him on the matter.”

  “Oh, I shall die if I’m obliged to wait longer.”

  Such a dreary circumstance was not to arise, however, because the Honorable Frederick had indeed spoken on his own behalf as well. “Fill ’em again, Burton,” the duke ordered when he had emptied his glass. “We have another matter to toast as well.” He looked at the duchess. “Seems our Charlotte has given her heart to this young scalawag here. I told him we might abide him in the family if you think you can bear it, my dear.”

  The duchess embraced her eldest daughter, who at last dropped Georgiana’s numb hand. “Oh, my dear, I am so happy for you!” Then she dabbed at her eyes again. “My cup runneth over. Two in one day! I don’t know that I can bear it.” She released Charlotte who flew to her betrothed’s side.

  Georgiana, observing the scene, smiled to herself. It wouldn’t do to speak of it now, but she too just might have an announcement for them as soon as Mr. Agar-Ellis arrived. If only she could be as thoroughly enveloped in the joy of it as her sister was.

  Three days later Lord and Lady Harrowby arrived at Troy House to attend the stone-laying ceremony of the duchess’s chapel. Georgiana greeted her aunt and uncle and staunchly assured herself that she was not in the least disappointed that their second son was not in their party.

  “And where is Charlotte?” the countess asked. “I understand that we may wish her happy.”

  “She must not be aware that you have arrived, Aunt Susan. I’ll go find her.” Georgiana kissed her aunt and fled, glad of an excuse to escape before she betrayed her dejection over Granville’s absence. She had held to just the tiniest shred of hope. Now she must abandon all.

  Charlotte stood in the upstairs front drawing room looking out the window.

  “Lord and Lady Harrowby have arrived, and our aunt is asking for you.”

  Charlotte gave the dreamy smile characteristic of her these past days. “Yes, I know. I’ll go down soon. But I want to see who that is approaching. Can you make out the carriage crossing the bridge?” She pointed to the high curving lane that spanned the river on the main road to Troy House from Monmouth. “Fred said he would return as soon as he had informed his family. I suppose it’s too soon to expect him. Still…”

  Georgiana could see nothing but the thick, verdant foliage lining the road. “You’ll know soon enough. Come greet—” At that moment a pair of perfectly matched grays turned into the private lane that led up the hill. There was no mistaking that pair of high-steppers. “Oh, I do see them. Yes, those are the horses George calls his sweet-goers.”

  “Mr. Agar-Ellis? What, pray tell, is he coming here for?”

  Georgiana gave her sister a mischievous grin. “Do you think you’re the only sly one in the family? He’s coming to offer for me.”

  “No! Oh dear, how awkward. Shall I tell Mama to send him away?”

  “Indeed you shall not! I intend to accept him.”

  “Accept George Agar-Ellis! But, Georgie, I thought you and Gran—”

  “George always said we were eminently well suited—destined even—because our names are the same. I am of quite the same mind.”

  “But Granville—”

  “Granville Dudley Ryder is quite the handsomest man I have ever seen, with charm of manners, person, and address, but I fear we have no tendre for each other.”

  “No tendre? What a whisker! I’ve seen you look at each other. It’s been all midsummer moon with you two for ages past.”

  “You quite mistake the matter, sister.” Georgiana turned away from the window so that Charlotte couldn’t see what her admirable control cost her. “George is a remarkably agreeable man. He is hospitable, courteous, and cordial. He collects about him the most distinguished persons in every rank and condition of life. He has a constant flow of high spirits, much miscellaneous information, an excellent memory, a great enjoyment of fun and humor, a refined taste, goodness of heart…”

  Charlotte exploded with laughter. “In short, he would make an excellent host for a weekend house party! Oh, Georgie, don’t be an idiot. Go send him packing.”

  Georgiana’s spirits were dampened by her sister’s unvarnished words, but she was determined on her course of action.

  “I wish to be useful, to be needed, to make someone happy. It is true, I had hoped—” She choked, then tossed her head bravely. “But never mind. As our cousin doesn’t have need of my affection to complete his happiness, I must find another who does. Mr. Agar-Ellis has made it plain that I stand able to make him the happiest of men. It would be selfish in me to refuse when the happiness of a
nother is in my power.”

  “Georgie, that’s so like you! So sweet and giving. And so wrongheaded.”

  Afraid her own resolve would weaken under the onslaught, Georgiana pushed her sister out the door with the reminder that Lady Harrowby wanted her. Then she went down the stone steps, across a small stretch of green lawn, and stood beside the gravel circle drive just as the carriage rounded the last curve and swung into full view.

  The horses came to full stop. The driver dismounted. Georgiana couldn’t believe her eyes. But it was true. “Gran!” Only with the greatest restraint did she resist throwing open her arms to greet him.

  And he seemed in danger of the same unseemly conduct as he tossed his reins to a groom and jumped down. “Georgie! I would have been here sooner, but one of my pair threw up lame outside Bristol. I had to talk like the Dutch to make the hostler at The King’s Head allow me to hire the pair Agar-Ellis keeps there. I assured him we were friends and had to quote my pedigree, but in the end it was the color of my coin that carried the day.”

  Then Georgiana’s younger sisters spilled down the stairway to greet their cousin, followed by the duchess and countess.

  It was considerably later when Granville found a quiet moment to ask Georgiana, “Would you care to go for a drive—to Raglan perhaps?”

  Georgiana didn’t even bother saying yes. “I’ll get my bonnet.”

  As they drove through the sweet, green countryside, Georgiana thought of the generations of her ancestors who had made similar journeys when Raglan Castle was their home, of the lords and ladies of Worcester who had lived there in a castle that provided manorial elegance and comfort inside medieval defense requirements. Then of the Cromwellian troops marching in determination to conquer the earl’s defenses in what proved to be the final battle of the Civil War, earning Raglan the title of The Last Castle. Soon afterward the same ground was covered by Lord Worcester’s garrison in retreat, which, in spite of defeat, marched out with horses and arms, colors flying, drums beating, trumpets sounding, and bullets held in their teeth. It must have been spectacular, even though the terms of capitulation were shamefully broken and the aged Worcester taken prisoner and kept in confinement until the end of his life. And still Raglan stood, broken but unbowed, a symbol of devotion to duty, loyalty to friend and king, and determination to do right—no matter what the personal cost.

  “So quiet, my dear.”

  She caught her breath at Granville’s use of the familiar term of address. “Oh, I was thinking of the men and women here before us—as real as we are today, with their own thoughts, their own feelings, but now all gone—one generation vanishing into another.”

  He nodded. “I was thinking of similar things, how someday we shall be gone, and our ch—, er, others will take our place. I only hope our family motto may be true, that ‘As they increase, so shall they shine.’”

  Then the ivy-mantled towers rose into view before them on the terraced green hill. They ascended a gentle drive to the gatehouse. Granville tied up the horses and helped Georgiana from the carriage. They crossed the drawbridge high above the moat and went through the entrance protected by a double row of portcullises.

  Granville looked around him. “Isn’t this where some forebear of yours is supposed to have invented the steam engine?”

  Georgiana had hoped to talk of things nearer her heart, but answered in good grace, “Oh, yes, it’s a rather unsubstantiated claim, I fear, but Lord Herbert, the second Marquess of Worcester, was fanatically interested in scientific research. He set up a laboratory and workshops here for his experiments in the time of Charles the First. His pride and joy was his ‘Water Commanding Engine.’”

  “Does the machine still exist?”

  “No, but his hydraulic machine, which he claimed solved the problem of perpetual motion, is said to have been buried with him in Raglan parish church.”

  “What a pity. It would be most interesting to see it operate.”

  “I fancy that wasn’t the general reaction to his inventions.” She laughed and pointed toward the Great Tower. “He contrived some waterworks in there by which water poured from the top through artificial channels causing reverberations all over the castle.

  “One of his favorite jokes when escorting guests to the castle was to send a servant ahead to set the machine in motion. When Lord Herbert approached the drawbridge with visitors, suddenly the deafening roar of the waterworks would come from the castle. A servant would rush up shouting, ‘Look to yourselves, my masters! The lions have got loose!’”

  They laughed together, then walked on in silence. As the quiet deepened, Georgiana sensed that Granville was holding something back.

  Without conversation but with hearts in tune to the history and beauty around them, they climbed to the top of the hexagonal tower and looked across the countryside. A patchwork of spring-green wheat fields bordered by darker hedgerows and clumps of trees spread before them. Over all stretched a gentle blue sky with mounds of white clouds. They looked down on the broken arches of buff stone covered with gold and green moss, patches of grass and purple wild flowers blooming in the windows, and everywhere a riotous growth of ivy.

  Granville took her hand to lead her down a corkscrew of stone steps to the walk along the moat filled with bright green moss and gold and black fish. Shafts of sunlight pierced the water as precisely as Cromwell’s arrows must have in an earlier time. But now there were no stirring battle cries, no clash of arms, no snorting, stamping war steeds—just the pounding of Georgiana’s heart and the singing in her ears that closeness to Granville was wont to produce.

  Then they entered the Great Hall and sat on a bench provided as part of the duke’s restoration. From their seat in the bay of an oriel window, they could see the hints of former splendor remaining in the castle’s finest apartment—mullioned and cross-beamed windows, molded roof, corbels projecting from the walls, and a huge fireplace. Georgiana hoped she could think of something to say before the silence became awkward.

  But Granville spoke first. “I believe the usual opening is, ‘I have something of a particular nature to say to you.’”

  And then he fell silent. “I guess the reason I can’t find any words is that I’ve already used them.” He drew two folded sheets of paper from his breast pocket and handed her the love prayer he had written long weeks ago.

  With trembling hands she unfolded the papers and began to read:

  …That we, loving each other above all things else on earth—but loving You above all—may, by Your great mercy in Your own dear time, have a way made for us that we may marry and enter upon that holy estate with a deep sense of our responsibility to You and to one another, and with the firm determination of being helpmeets to each other, of uplifting one another, and being to one another the cause of as much earthly happiness as You know to be compatible with our heavenly welfare.

  Georgiana couldn’t believe it. The thoughts so precisely paralleled her own—her feelings for Granville, her dreams for their future. Her eyes misted, but she read on.

  All this I dare only pray in the humble hopes that You, having caused me to be so long with her, thereby learning to know thoroughly her character, to appreciate its excellence, to believe her to be peculiarly suited to myself, and to love her very tenderly, would in Your great goodness grant me this rich gift, utterly unworthy of it though I am.

  But, my Father, You can make me worthy of more, even of heavenly gifts, through Christ Jesus. Oh, I pray, above all, that You do so; and then I shall be worthy of this earthly gift, great though it be!

  But, O Heavenly Father, I pray especially that I may more than all desire Heavenly kinship. And should You decide to deny me this greatest earthly blessing, enable me in this and all trials to submit humbly and cheerfully to Your divine will, saying from the bottom of my heart, “Not my will, but Yours be done.” Amen.

  By the time Georgiana finished reading, tears were streaming down her radiant face. “Granville—” Her voice choked. “
If I hadn’t loved you before, I would now.” She handed the papers back to him. “You must put these away very carefully. I am afraid any woman who read them would tumble into love with you, and that could prove most awkward because I intend to make a very absolute piece of work of our marriage.”

  But in the logic of things, it was necessary that first Granville should make a very absolute piece of work of kissing his beloved in the hall where her ancestors had lived and loved since the fifteenth century. And she knew that in at least one way, the Harrowby motto was already fulfilled—her love for Granville was increasing to a brilliant shining.

  They drove through the soft spring evening back to Troy House, Georgiana bursting to share their secret and at the same time savoring it and hugging it to her heart. But a look of dismay crossed her face when they pulled up to the house. Another carriage had arrived just ahead of them. Oh, no, not George. This could prove very awkward.

  The slash-up-to-the-mark Mr. Agar-Ellis, however, would have been highly insulted had he known the lady had accused him of owning such an old-fashioned equipage as that driven by Lord and Lady Granville Levenson-Gower.

  Before Georgiana could remove her bonnet or give her Aunt Harriet a proper greeting, Lady Granville began regaling her with the latest on dit gripping London by the ears. “And, my dear, the tittle-tattles are saying that Mr. Agar-Ellis intended to end his tour here and offer for you. Of course, we know that’s quite absurd. At any rate, after a short time at Castle Howard, he found that Lord Carlisle’s second daughter suited his purpose very well and would confer upon him an agreeable family connection without the trouble of going any further. So after three or four days, he proposed to Lady Georgiana Howard.

  “It seems that the lady was not less surprised than pleased and proud at the conquest she had so unconsciously made. She immediately accepted him.”

  Georgiana couldn’t contain her amusement at the account. “Oh, Aunt, I do believe that’s the most diverting story I ever heard! Do you suppose they’ll suit?”