Farringdon's Fate, page 2
‘I really should go and change,’ Charlotte stated finally, beginning to rise to her feet.
‘Later, my dear, if you feel you must, for really you look quite lovely as you are,’ he told her. ‘As you always do, of course.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ She beamed, patting her sleek hair. ‘Of course, one has to persevere, keep up with the latest looks. I was talking to Lady Connaught on this very subject and she recommended a marvellous corse— er, dressmaker, a Madame Pittier in Exeter and—’ Edwin leaned forward and gently placed a finger on her lips.
‘I was actually thinking of something else,’ he told her.
‘Oh yes, the ball,’ she replied, sitting back in her seat and sipping daintily at her drink. ‘We really do need to make arrangements. Time passes so quickly.’
‘Yes, it does,’ he agreed, putting down his glass and moving closer. ‘Which is why, my darling, I shall be paying you a visit later,’ he murmured, giving her a meaningful look. There was a pause and he could almost hear her mind calculating what would be in it for her, before she gazed coyly up at him from under her lashes.
‘Goodness, Edwin, what a surprise. It has been so long, I rather thought…’ she stopped then murmured breathlessly. ‘I rather thought you’d decided you no longer found me desirable.’ As she stared at him wide eyed, her cheeks flushed like a ripe cherry, despite everything, Edwin felt his pulses quicken.
Chapter 2
Shielded by the damask drapes at the windows of her Quartz Rose boudoir, Charlotte followed Edwin’s progress as he made his way along the path that bordered the walled kitchen garden. His breath spiralled like white plumes in the cold morning air and she wondered that he should be out so early. The roofs of the glasshouses glistened like frosting on a cake, whilst beyond stood the family chapel where his first wife had been laid to rest. The grounds of the estate that housed the workers’ cottages lay further to the west, whilst the deer park spread majestically northwards. As Edwin bent to give Ellery a loving pat, she felt a stab of jealousy. That dog roamed the house and grounds as though he owned them, and he obviously came before her in Edwin’s affections, she thought, her glance involuntarily going to the interconnecting doors discreetly hidden behind the oak panelling.
Charlotte sighed, recalling the previous evening. Although she had no desire whatsoever to carry another child, she knew how important it was to Edwin that he sire a son to continue the Farringdon line and inherit Nettlecombe. Goodness, he’d told her often enough, along with some gibberish about a gypsy curse. Well, if that was the price she had to pay for being lady of the manor, then so be it. Giving him a son, something his precious first wife hadn’t, was appealing. Though, realistically, it was unlikely to happen for pressures of work and a lack of energy now that he was growing older meant Edwin didn’t trouble her often. And when he did, it wasn’t for long. Long enough to exploit him in a weak moment though, she grinned, already planning her new outfit with appropriately extravagant jewellery. After all, a betrothal necessitated being seen in the very latest mode, did it not? And if the one she chose required a string of the finest akoya pearls with their mirror-like lustre to set it off, then Edwin would have to provide.
As Edwin made his way through the gate and was lost to view, Charlotte shivered and sank onto the velvet button-back chair beside the fire, her mood becoming sombre. She’d tried so hard to be a good wife and stepmother to his daughters. When he’d brought her here as his new bride, the house had held an air of neglect, the staff lackadaisical. She’d taken them in hand and although they’d resented her interference, the household now ran efficiently. Updating the antiquated rooms had taken much thought and time, although Edwin was seemingly unaware of any change. Why, he hadn’t even noticed the beautiful new clock she’d designed and had commissioned for the hallway.
Similarly, she’d taken the upbringing of her stepdaughters seriously, although it was no easy task for they showed little regard for their privileged status, ignoring her guidance and carrying on in their own way, even taunting her by saying their mama had always encouraged them to be independent. As if young women of their class had any choice in the matter! It was their duty to marry well and she intended to see that they did. All of them. Still, at least when Sarah and then Maria had arrived, they’d been besotted and couldn’t do enough for their little sisters. If only they would afford her at least a modicum of respect. She sighed.
At least Louisa was obeying the rules, unwritten though they might be. Whilst the arrangements for her forthcoming marriage would fall to Charlotte, she was determined to plan a grand society affair that would make Edwin proud. First, she would set a date for the betrothal ball so that invitations could be issued. If it was held at the end of April, she would have time to settle with her sister Emmeline in London before Victoria’s debut. She also needed to enrol Beatrice at a prestigious ladies’ academy ready for the autumn term. Despite Charlotte trying her best, the girl seemed to take exception to everything she did, and yesterday’s accusation that she was trying to get rid of them all rankled. She would be failing in her duty if she didn’t ensure her stepdaughter was schooled in how to keep her emotions under control.
As Edwin’s wife she had a duty to fulfil, she thought, moving purposefully to her escritoire in the corner of the room. It had been her beloved grandmother’s and one of the few items she’d brought with her. Made of walnut with ornate carved legs, it smelled of beeswax which she found comforting, while the slanted front gleamed with the patina of age. Taking four new leather-bound notebooks from the bookcase above, she wrote ‘Wedding’ inside the first, ‘Debut’ in the next and ‘Academy’ in the third. The last she entitled ‘Master Plan’ in which she devised a brief outline for each occasion. Hopefully, if she involved the girls, they would show more enthusiasm. After all, what woman didn’t get excited at the thought of planning a new wardrobe? she thought, taking out a sheet of paper and penning a note to Madame Rosetta Pittier requesting her to visit the following week. A French corsetière was the crème de la crème, and her pending visit would be a bonne bouche to drop into the colloquy at her next At Home.
The little clock on her dressing table chimed the half hour bringing her back to the present. Tugging on the bell rope to summon her maid, she couldn’t help reflecting that whilst her intentions towards the girls were well meant, their responses made her feel like the wicked stepmother from a fairy tale. Still, at least her own babies, Sarah and Maria, were loving. Deciding to capitalise on the previous evening by sowing the seeds, or indeed the pearls, she asked Shears to lay out the grey silk dress Edwin loved. She would dazzle him over breakfast while memories of their passion the previous night were still uppermost in his mind.
However, food was the last thing on Edwin’s mind, for returning from his constitutional, he met with Partridge, the gamekeeper, who told him poachers were intent on depleting the deer herd.
‘Send Gill to my office,’ he instructed, striding back towards the house. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, he thought, recalling his meeting at the quarry the previous day. Resisting the urge to sweep the monstrosity of a clock from the hallway table as he passed, he hurried up the staircase that led to the nursery. He loved all his daughters dearly and as he popped his head around the door to see the youngest two, their excited squeals let him know they were delighted to see him.
‘Papa,’ Sarah cried, her face wreathed in smiles as she looked up from the picture she was painting. At six she considered herself quite proficient although coloured splashes on her pinafore told a different story.
‘Puppy,’ Maria squealed, using the name she’d adopted before she could manage Papa, and which despite Charlotte’s best endeavours, had stuck. ‘I’ve drawn Ellery, come and see.’ Edwin stared down at the black smudge with four stick legs and a wiggly tail and grinned.
‘I’m sure Ellery will be flattered. I hope they are behaving themselves, Nanny,’ he enquired. The old lady who’d been his own nanny and then, in turn, his older daughters’, nodded.
‘They’re little treasures,’ she beamed. Edwin nodded, knowing she would say that however they’d been behaving. Being a Saturday, she had let them indulge their artistic talents, as she put it. ‘And if it’s not too cold later, we’re going to see the deer, aren’t we?’ she said, turning to the girls who bobbed their heads enthusiastically.
‘Deer, Puppy,’ Maria told him seriously.
‘Well, have fun and do as Nanny tells you,’ he told them, the clock striking ten reminding him of his meeting with his estate manager.
Feeling brighter, he bid them farewell and retraced his steps. However, as he passed the Carnelian Room, the sound of agitated voices stopped him in his tracks. Peering round the partially opened door, he saw his older daughters huddled together on the comfortable chesterfield but they were so engrossed in their discussion they didn’t notice him.
‘It’s obvious Step Mama’s trying to get rid of us but if she thinks I’m going to any fancy ladies’ academy, she can think again,’ Bea declared hotly.
‘I know that look, Bea, but what are you going to do?’ Louisa asked.
‘You’ll be busy preparing for your wedding, Lou, which is right for you. Anyone can see Henry adores you.’
‘And I him,’ Louisa admitted, a gentle flush tinging her cheeks as she thought of him.
‘But I have no desire to have my life governed by a man. Remember Mama told us we could do anything we put our minds to? Well, I intend to train as a nurse. I shall ask Aunt Emmeline if I can come to London with you in order to make some enquiries,’ she told Victoria.
‘But Step Mama and Auntie will be busy accompanying me to balls, dances and heaven knows what.’
‘You’re right about Mama encouraging us to think for ourselves, Bea, but think about it rationally. In order to become a nurse, you’ll need to finish your education. Then you’ll be better equipped to live your own life and won’t have to rely on a man to keep you,’ Louisa told her.
‘Or spend hours being primped and preened like a peacock,’ Victoria added. ‘What’s the betting Step Mama will appear at any moment flourishing one of her lists?’ As they let out a collective groan, Edwin frowned, then mindful of his meeting he continued on his way. Bea wanted to be a nurse? That was news to him and, clearly, she hadn’t confided in Charlotte. He obviously needed to have that discussion with each of his daughters before they made their intentions known. Whilst he admired ambition, and had appreciated his late wife’s enthusiasm for life, she had always known her duty was to him and Nettlecombe and now he needed to ensure his daughters understood too.
He’d just seated himself at his desk when there was a knock on the door and Ferris announced the arrival of Sam Gill. For the second time that morning, Edwin frowned. Why should his estate manager have sent his son?
‘Show him in, Ferris.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ Sam Gill greeted him, removing his cap as he entered the room. At twenty-two, although he took his job as assistant estate manager seriously, he had a cheerful and jaunty manner. Today, though, his hazel eyes were clouded with worry.
‘Good morning, Gill,’ Edwin replied. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘It’s Father, he slipped on the ice and Mother fears he has broken his leg.’
‘That is grave news. I’ll send for Dr Wicken,’ Edwin replied but the young man shook his head.
‘Thank you, sir, but he’d never agree to seeing a physic. Wise Woman Winnie is with him. She’ll see he’s all right,’ he told him. Then, realising he may have spoken out of turn, he flushed and hurried on. ‘Though Father will have to rest until his leg’s mended. Of course, I’ll carry out his duties until he’s fit again. I believe there’s been a spot of poaching up at the deer park.’
Edwin raised a brow then wondered why he was surprised. News spread faster than fire around here.
‘Indeed, it’s a sorry business and one that could cost the estate dearly. I want you to liaise with Partridge, set up a night watch. You’d better let the authorities know. That will be all for now. Give my regards to your father and wish him a speedy recovery. And if things don’t improve, let me know. Sometimes medical intervention can be best.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Although he replied cordially, his gaze was sceptical.
As the door closed behind him, Edwin lay back in his seat and closed his eyes, memories of Beatrice’s terrible accident surfacing. Again, he relived her final days when nothing the doctor prescribed seemed to work. Out of his mind with worry, when Winnie the wise woman of the village had called to offer her services, he’d sent her packing.
‘You’ll regret it,’ she’d warned, her beady eyes burning into him. ‘That fever needs the healing of herbs not them draughts the physics prescribe. Her’s in such a bad way it wouldn’t do no harm to try now, would it?’ she’d coaxed.
To his shame, he hadn’t listened; instead he’d heard the cackle of another crone from years gone by. Edwin had been only a lad when his father, having discovered stock missing, called for the dogs to be set on gypsies camped on his land. The old woman had vehemently protested their innocence but he’d refused to listen. Pointing her finger at him, she’d decreed the Farringdon dynasty was doomed. The family would never sire another male. Unable to contain his rage, Edwin’s father had fired his gun.
‘Fool – yer’ve just sealed yer family’s fate,’ she’d screeched. ‘From here on all yer wives will die young.’
Edwin opened his eyes yet didn’t see the comfortable furnishings around him, only the dreadful images of the past. Again, he asked himself the questions that haunted him. Had what he’d witnessed as a boy prejudiced his decision to let local wise woman Winnie help? Could she have saved his beloved Beatrice from an early death? And if his father hadn’t driven those travellers from his land would he, Edwin, have sired a son by now? Even realising that the old gypsy crone would long have gone to meet her maker gave him no comfort.
Having endured a solitary meal where she’d merely trifled with the grilled kidneys and scramble of eggs, Charlotte pushed her plate aside. After last night, the least Edwin could have done was take breakfast with her, she fumed, as gathering up her books she went in search of her stepdaughters.
‘Good morning,’ she greeted them, trying not to react to the change in atmosphere or the exchanged looks, as in a rustle of skirts she settled herself on the leather buttoned chair alongside them.
‘Good morning, Step Mama,’ they dutifully intoned before lapsing into silence.
‘As we have so many exciting things to plan, I have begun preparing one of these for you,’ she said, handing them each a book.
‘I told you,’ Bea muttered, eyeing hers disdainfully. ‘More ludicrous lists. Well, I need to put Firecracker through his paces,’ she said, jumping to her feet.
‘You can exercise that horse of yours later, though to my mind you spend far too much time in the stables as it is,’ Charlotte told her firmly. ‘We have much to discuss and all your ideas are important. Now,’ she said, opening her own book, ‘here is the master plan. Firstly, the date of your betrothal ball, Louisa. The last Saturday of April would be perfect, would it not?’
‘Yes, Step Mama,’ Louisa replied. ‘Although, I was wondering if perhaps we might have a small party rather than a ball.’
‘Impossible,’ Charlotte retorted. ‘Think of your papa and his standing in the community.’
‘So much for our opinions being important then,’ Bea snorted.
‘You really must learn to control that tongue of yours, Beatrice,’ Charlotte remonstrated. ‘Now, as I told your papa, we shall require completely new wardrobes. As it is the underpinning that defines how any gown, however well made, will look, I have sent a letter to the finest corsetière in Devonshire – if not the entire country – requesting she call upon us. She is also renowned for her exquisite dressmaking and can advise on those.’ Charlotte looked at them expectantly but instead of delighted smiles, she was met with frowns. ‘Don’t worry about the cost,’ she continued, misunderstanding their concern. ‘Your papa will want the best for us.’
‘We know that, Step Mama,’ Victoria replied. ‘However, we usually call upon the services of our local seamstresses.’
‘I hardly think locally sewn garments would be appropriate for our prestigious celebrations,’ Charlotte told them.
‘I’m afraid I disagree, Step Mama,’ Louisa murmured. ‘Ida Somers and her team have always served us well.’
‘Their simple stitching might have sufficed in the past, but not this time,’ Charlotte told her brusquely.
‘But the villagers rely upon us for their custom and Lily’s lacemaking is second to none. Why, she made—’
‘Enough.’ Charlotte snapped her book shut. ‘I said that only the best will do and having been reliably informed that Madame Pittier is the best, my decision stands.’
‘And you said our ideas were of value yet you don’t even listen to us,’ Bea retorted.
‘I shall not even dignify that statement with an answer. All I will say is that you girls would do well to elevate your expectations if you wish to succeed in life,’ Charlotte told them. Darting them a look of disappointment, she gathered up their unopened books and sailed from the room.
Chapter 3
Madame Rosetta Pittier’s Magasin, Exeter
Jane Haydon placed the silver bowl of bright pink flowers in the centre of the low table then sprayed them lightly with eau de rose. It was Madame Rosetta’s signature cologne and the uplifting fragrance subtly wafted throughout every room in the establishment, including the magasin de corset at the front of the building where her exquisite merchandise was displayed. In the summer months, when fresh roses were available, she insisted every petal be dried then scattered between the folds of her clients’ beautifully beribboned purchases throughout the year.
‘Seems stupid to me,’ Millie, maid of all, muttered, bending to prod the fire with the poker. As orange flames flared and began warming the cool early morning air, she placed the guard firmly in place. ‘I mean, why go to all that bother when everyone knows you don’t get roses in January?’
