A Dreadful Splendor (30)

William has voiced his suspicions about bringing a complete stranger into our midst. My cheeks burned when he spoke ill of Mr. Lockhart, accusing him of using me as a lure. I know William is only being protective; he has always cared deeply for my well-being.

We have not been alone together since the night in the Gallery Hall. I wonder if he has wrestled with the same thoughts as I. But no, I must not let myself enter that way of thinking. Somerset is what matters, and that is what I must focus on.

This good news has filled Father’s body with a new vigor I haven’t seen for many months. He has finally left his room, shaven and in fine clothes, ready to make a favourable impression on the young man.

I already feel a kinship with him, as he has suffered losing his mother as well. I wanted to ask Mr. Lockhart what he looked like, not that I’m so particular to his physical attributes, but this man could be my husband! And although I am wholeheartedly my own person, marrying this man will grant me the means to stay in my home and keep those I care about in the manor, including William.

There is an immense pressure building inside my chest. I must do my best to make myself as amiable as possible to this man if we are to be successful. But surely Somerset Park and all its splendor will be enough to woo him over?

I invited some maids to my room to help me decide what to wear to entice this mystery man. They’re so excited about this possible match. Even the kitchen maid, sweet Flora, and her dear friend Maisie were here. We spent an entire afternoon trying on dresses and deciding how I shall wear my hair and which shoes to show off.

I do not think I could be any happier. Actually, I do. If this man accepts the manor and decides to marry me, then I will be the happiest.

I’m lying, Dearest. I will be the happiest if he is handsome.





Chapter Twenty




In the evening, the dark red walls of the dining room reminded me of Miss Crane’s lipstick. I shuddered at the thought. It was like being inside the mouth of a giant. But the fireplace was roaring with plenty of wood, and the comfortable warmth put me at ease.

The long dining table seemed overly adequate for myself and the doctor. The selection of silverware alone for one person was laughable. The most I knew about forks and knives was how much silver was in them based on their weight.

Bramwell stood at attention at the sideboard between serving the courses. I watched Dr. Barnaby choose the large spoon beside the knife and mimicked the selection for myself. The creamed soup was followed by roasted pheasant and tender carrots that had been drenched with a sweet buttery sauce. My taste buds had never experienced such richness. And with each serving, Bramwell would fill my wineglass.

It was easy to stay in conversation with Dr. Barnaby, which I found astonishingly enjoyable. The wine most likely helped. I was equally surprised to learn he and Mr. Pemberton had known each other since they were young boys.

“Oh yes,” he said, spearing a piece of carrot. “We grew up in the same northern part of the country. Our fathers were first acquainted through the hunts. Then my father took over as their head stable groom. Pemberton and I spent many enjoyable days riding. And as you can see, we’re still close friends.”

“But you hardly have anything in common. You seem perfectly affable, and he’s . . .” I paused. From the corner of my eye I saw Bramwell stiffen. He was staring straight ahead, but I knew he was watching me. “He’s, well . . . he’s mentioned you had saved his life once?”

Dr. Barnaby blushed and looked at his plate. “I was hardly the hero, I assure you. We were at his father’s stables, preparing for our usual ride, when Pemberton took out a horse that had a reputation for being wild. The animal became violent and tried to buck him off. I came alongside with my horse and got his under control.” He shrugged and picked up his fork again. “We were fifteen, more brass than brains, I’m afraid.”

I tried to hide my smile behind my wineglass. “Was he punished for his recklessness?” I asked, my voice rising with anticipation.

He frowned. “No, they put down the horse. A tragedy, really. It was a fine animal, and Pemberton’s father had planned on grooming him to be a stud.”

“That’s so unfair!” I exclaimed. “It wasn’t the animal’s fault. I know little about horses, but I know the nature of man, and it was Mr. Pemberton who should have been put down.”

There was a quick gasp from Bramwell. I wasn’t sure if my callous opinion or not addressing him as Lord Chadwick had shocked him more.

Dr. Barnaby hesitated a moment, then he said, “The intense guilt he felt was punishment enough. Pemberton’s father was strict. He believed anything worth learning was best learned through the most extreme means.”

“I see.” My toes curled inside my boots as my wine-addled mind began to realize how foolish I had been to blurt out such careless words.

He met my eyes with a thoughtful expression, void of ridicule or judgment. “I’ve had the benefit of knowing Pemberton before he was burdened with all this responsibility,” Dr. Barnaby said. “When I began my studies at medical school, he came into possession of his father’s estate and all that entailed.” He let out a sigh. There was a heaviness in it I couldn’t quite fathom.

“And why does he live here now?” I asked, thinking about William. If someone who had two estates were trying to push me out of the only home I had, I would be upset too. No wonder William wanted him gone.