Lucy recognized it from her visit a decade earlier. The carriage pulled onto the circular drive and stopped before the great house. A host of people fanned away from the door, driving her immediately into anxiety. Henry elbowed Hawes awake and opened the coach door without waiting for the footman. After stepping down, he extended a hand to her. She eyed the waiting crowd with reluctance. He leaned near.
“Come, Lucy. You are safe here in every way. Charlotte knows everything of your upbringing. We will protect you.”
She tentatively extended her hand, and he guided her down to the gravel drive. No sooner had she come to rest than a smiling woman approached. She wore a fine ivory dress that accentuated a lovely figure. Her hair and eyes matched those of Henry. Lucy immediately recognized her.
“Lady Sinclair?”
The woman’s smile broadened. “Lady Margaret. May I begin by noting how kindly maturity has treated you? I barely recognize the beauty you have become.” She shot Henry a hot glare. “Brother. Your description of Lady Margaret did her an injustice. She is very pleasing to the eye. Why did you fail to mention that tidbit, I wonder? I rather expected a she-wolf from your telling.”
Henry stretched his neck with apparent discomfort, still seemingly morose from his admission. “Lady Margaret, may I introduce my sister, Lady Sinclair.” He motioned to Lucy. “Lady Margaret Huntington, granddaughter of the Duchess of Ramsbury.”
Lucy curtsied before Charlotte caught her arm.
“No, my lady. You curtsy not to me, but I to you.” She dropped a graceful curtsy as if performing a well-practiced dance. “And you simply must use my Christian name.”
Lucy restrained a smile, already remembering how sweetly Charlotte had treated her on the previous visit. “Then you must call me Lucy, and never ‘my lady’. I am further from such a title than you can possibly imagine.”
Henry’s grin finally returned. “I can imagine.”
She refrained from jabbing him with an elbow, not wishing to disappoint his sister or spoil the reemergence of his humor. Charlotte descended on Lucy and began pulling her toward the house while gushing enthusiastically over her dress, beauty, and graceful stride. She suspected Charlotte was telling pleasant lies for her benefit but found the sense of regard both overwhelming and wonderful. As they crossed the threshold of the manor, Lucy took in the familiar décor, a pleasing combination of finery and rustic antiquity. They moved toward the parlor with Henry a seeming afterthought.
“Do not worry, Lucy,” said Charlotte. “My husband is sitting in Parliament, my sons are away at school, and I have nothing but time on my hands. Henry and I will prepare you in no time in terms of manner, presentation, and accomplishment.”
Lucy nodded with gratitude and occupied the chair offered by Charlotte. Henry sat away from the intimate conversation at the edge of Lucy’s vision.
“Thank you,” Lucy said. “However, I fear we have no time for accomplishments.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Oh, no. We must include such training. The acquiring of accomplishments helps form a lady.”
Her brow furrowed with skepticism. “I apologize for harboring doubts, but what purpose do many accomplishments serve if they are only a façade?”
“Accomplishments put on display highly prized character traits, such as diligence and emotional control, while drawing the eye to the lady’s fashion and form as she entertains.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “How interesting. But I puzzle still. Demonstrating for whom? Putting on display for whom? Drawing the eye of whom?”
Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “For anyone of the male persuasion whose admiration you wish to capture, dear.”
“I see, then. An accomplishment is a clever device for capturing a husband.”
She distinctly heard Henry stifle a chuckle. Force of will restrained her from glaring at him.
“No, no,” said Charlotte. “Accomplishments are a reflection of the female persona.”
“Used for the purpose of capturing a husband,” Lucy said.
“No. Accomplishments reveal the glory that is a woman.”
“For the purpose of capturing a husband.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Accomplishments allow a woman to demonstrate her potential to Society…”
“For the purpose of capturing a husband.”
Henry swallowed a snicker, disguising it as a clearing of his throat. Charlotte cut indignant eyes at her younger brother.
“Henry Winston Beaumont. Have you something to say?”
“Nothing at all, dear sister. Dust from the road, you know.”
Charlotte returned her attention to Lucy. Then she rolled her eyes and sighed. “You are correct. Accomplishments are designed to catch a husband, only to lie fallow once the vows have been exchanged. But you must never admit this in public or risk earning the disdain of your female peers.”
Henry cleared his throat again, but this time for a purpose. He stood as the women looked to him. “My dear Charlotte, your enthusiasm for her education is just as I had hoped and promised. However, as you might imagine, we are both weary from the journey. If you are so inclined, perhaps we might take some refreshment now and commence the training tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Tomorrow then.”
Grateful both for Charlotte’s kind interest and Henry’s merciful intervention, Lucy stood from her chair. “Tomorrow then, and God help us all.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sleep eluded Henry that night. After an eternity of tossing and turning in bed, he rose to wander the halls of the south wing and soon found his feet pointed toward the library. Even after remaining mostly absent from Ardmoore for several years, the way remained familiar despite the feeble light of a small candle. Once inside the library, he located the wall panel that doubled as a door to his secret room. He tapped it open and ducked much lower than he had as a child to enter.
The candlelight pushed shadows into the corners of the small dank space. His old books lined the floorboard on three sides of the little bench. The memory of his first meeting with Lucy came to him in a flash of vivid recollection. He recalled her straightforward confidence and ease as she’d made introduction and then proceeded to nuzzle her way into his isolation. Little had he known then how that assurance would mature, creating a remarkable woman who broke the mold of fettered society and compelled his fascination. A wan smile stole to his lips.
“You turned out magnificently, Crusoe.”
He ducked from the room and closed the panel. Rather than returning to his chambers, he padded down the west hallway counting doors. He stopped before the fourth door behind which Lucy slept, not sure why he had come. As he turned to leave, his ears pricked at the soft sound emanating from the room. Despite a warning from his better judgment, he placed an ear against the door. He listened intently.