Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
Later that morning, Isabelle excused herself from the breakfast room, with an apologetic murmur.
"I'm feeling rather green again," she said. "I believe I shall retire to my room, for just a little while. Fortunately Mr. Hunt is out riding, and he won't know that I'm taking a nap."
"I'll w-walk with you to your room," said Elena in concern.
"Oh, Elena, dear, there's no need..."
"It will be the perfect excuse to avoid Aunt Franny, wh-who is probably looking for me."
"Well, in that case, thank you."
Battling a wave of nausea, Isabelle leaned gratefully on Elena's arm as they departed.
Gwen and Daisy made to follow the pair.
"I don't think she will be able to keep the news from Mr. Hunt for long, do you?" Daisy whispered.
"Not at this rate," Gwen whispered back. "I'm certain he must suspect something, since Isabelle is usually as healthy as a horse."
"Perhaps. However, I have heard that men are sometimes oblivious to such matters..."
As they left the breakfast room, they saw Lady Morganna walking along the hallway, her pretty face wreathed with a perturbed expression.
It was odd to see her frowning, as she was usually a singularly cheerful woman. Gwen wondered what had happened to upset her.
Glancing up, Lady Morganna saw the pair of sisters, and her face cleared. A warm smile came to her lips.
"Good morning," she greeted.
Although Lady Morganna was only two or three years older than Gwen, she seemed infinitely more worldy-wise, possessing the eyes of a woman, who has known great sadness in her past.
It was that sense of unknown experiences, so far beyond Gwen's own, that had always made her feel a bit awkward, around the Lady.
Though she was a charming conversationalist, one had the perception, that there were questions that should not be asked, and subjects that were sensitive.
"I was going to the orangery," Lady Morganna said.
"We shan't stop you, then," Gwen replied, fascinated by the faintest trace of resemblance to Arthur, in the woman's face...nothing distinctive, but a certain look about the eyes, and the smile...
"Do come with me," Lady Morganna urged. Seeming to obey a sudden impulse, she reached out for Gwen's hand, her long fingers wrapping around Gwen's much smaller ones. "I've just had the most interesting conversation with the Earl. I would love to discuss it with you."
'Oh good God! He's told his sister, then. And very possibly his mother.'
Gwen shot a glance of veiled panic at her sister, who proved to be no help whatsoever.
"I'm heading to the library for a novel," Daisy announced brightly. "The one I'm reading now is something of a disappointment, and I don't care to finish it."
"Go to the last row on the right, two shelves from the floor," Lady Morganna advised. "And look behind the books in front. I've hidden my favorite novels there...wicked stories that no innocent girl should read. They'll corrupt you immeasurably."
Daisy's dark eyes lit up at the information.
"Oh, thank you!" She scampered away without a backward glance, while Lady Morganna grinned.
"Come," she said, tugging Gwen through the breakfast room.
"If we're to be sisters, there are some things you will want to know. I'm an invaluable source of information, and I'm feeling quite gabby at the moment."
Amused, Gwen went with her to the orangery, which branched off from the breakfast room.
It was warm and fragrant, with the noonday sun approaching and heat coming from the grill-work vents in the floor.
"It's not entirely certain that we will be sisters," Gwen remarked, sitting beside Lady Morganna on a cane bench, with a curved French back. "If the Earl implied that something has been agreed upon..."
"No, he didn't go that far. However, he did express some rather serious intentions towards you."
Lady Morganna's grey-green eyes were bright with smiling inquiry, and yet there was a watchful quality in them.
"No doubt I should be restrained and tactful, but I simply can't bear it, I have to ask...are you going to accept him?"
Gwen, who was never at a loss for words, found herself stammering as badly as Elena.
"I...I..."
"Forgive me," Lady Morganna said, taking pity on her. "As those who know me best will attest, I love to go charging into other peoples' affairs. I hope I haven't offended you."
"No."
"Good. I never seem to get on well, with people who are easily offended."
"Neither do I," Gwen confessed, her shoulders relaxing, and they both smiled. "My lady, the situation being what it is...although you may not know the details, unless the Earl..."
"No," Lady Morganna reassured her gently. "As always, my brother was closemouthed about the details. He is an annoyingly private man, who adores tormenting inquisitive people like myself. Go on."
"The truth is, I want to accept him," Gwen said frankly. "But I do have a few reservations."
"Of course you do," Lady Morganna said promptly. "Arthur is an overwhelming man. He does everything well, and he makes certain that everyone is aware of it. One can't approach the simplest of endeavors, such as brushing your teeth, without having him advise, whether you should begin with the molars or incisors."
"Yes."
"A dreadfully trying man," Lady Morganna continued, "Who insists on seeing things in absolutes...right or wrong, good or bad. He is opinionated and overbearing, not to mention, incapable of admitting that he is ever wrong."
It was clear that Lady Morganna would have gone on, at length about Arthur's flaws, but Gwen experienced a sudden rush of defensiveness.
After all, it wasn't quite fair to paint such a harsh portrait of him.
"All that may be true," she said, "But one has to give the Earl of Westcliff credit for being honest. He always keeps his word. And even when he is overbearing, he is only trying to do what he thinks is best for other people."
"I suppose..." Lady Morganna said dubiously, and that encouraged Gwen to expound on the subject.
"Moreover, a woman who marries the Earl of Westcliff, would never have to fear him straying. He would be faithful to her. He would make her feel safe, because, he would always take care of her and never lose his head in an emergency."
"But he is rigid," Lady Morganna insisted.
"Not really..."
"And cold-natured," the Lady said, with a regretful shake of her head.
"Oh no," Gwen argued, "Not in the least. He is the most..."
She stopped abruptly, her face heating, as she saw Lady Morganna's satisfied smile. She had just been neatly cornered.
"Miss Sweetly," Lady Morganna murmured, "You sound like a woman in love. And I fervently hope that you are. Because, it has taken so long for Arthur to find you...and it would break my heart for his sake, if his love went unrequited."
Gwen flinched at the sudden violent thump of her heart.
"He doesn't love me," she said unevenly. "At least he hasn't said anything to that effect."
"I'm not surprised. My brother tends to express his feelings with actions, rather than words. You'll have to be patient with him."
"So I'm discovering," Gwen replied darkly, and the other woman laughed.
"I've never known him quite as well, as my older sister, Alyssa, does. They are much closer in age, and she was his main confidante, until she left for America with her husband. It was her, who explained quite a lot to me about Arthur, whenever I was ready to murder him."
Gwen was very stil,l as she listened attentively to the low, sweetly mellow voice.
She had not realized until this very moment, how much she wanted to understand Arthur.
Never before had she comprehended, why lovers were preoccupied with collecting keepsakes...letters, locks of hair, a lost glove, a ring. But now she knew how it felt, to be obsessed by someone.
She was filled with the compulsive desire, to know the smallest details, about a man who seemed so utterly straightforward and yet was practically unknowable.
Lady Morganna draped an arm across the camel-back of the settee, and stared thoughtfully, at the plant-laden scaffolding beside them.
"There are things that Arthur will never reveal to anyone about his past, as he considers it unmanly to complain, and he would rather die by slow inches, than be the object of sympathy. And if he ever finds out that I've told you anything, he'll have my head."
"I'm good at keeping secrets," Gwen assured her.
Lady Morganna gave her a quick smile, then studied the tip of her own shoe, as it peeped from the ruffled hem of her skirts.
"You'll fit in well with the Pendragons, then. We're nothing, if not a secretive lot. And none of us likes to dwell on the past. Arthur, Alyssa, and I, all suffered in different ways, from the actions of my parents...neither of whom, in my opinion, was ever fit to have children. My mother has never been interested in anyone, other than herself, or anything beyond what might affect her directly. And my father never gave a damn, about either of his daughters."
"I'm sorry," Gwen said sincerely.
"No, his indifference was a blessing, and we knew it. It was far worse for Arthur, who was the victim of my father's insane notions, of how to raise the Westcliff heir."
Although Lady Morganna's voice was quiet and even, Gwen felt a chill run through her, and she rubbed her hands over her sleeves, to soothe the prickling flesh of her arms.
"My father tolerated, nothing less than perfection in his son. He set ridiculously high standards, in every aspect of Arthur's life, and punished him terribly, if ever he failed to meet them. Arthur learned to endure a thrashing, without shedding a tear, or displaying one hint of rebellion, for if he did, the punishment was doubled. And Father was merciless, when he discovered any weakness. I once asked Alyssa, why Arthur has never been very fond of dogs...she told me, that when he was a child, he was afraid of a pair of wolfhounds, Father kept as pets. The dogs sensed his fear, and hence were aggressive with him, barking and snarling, whenever they saw him. When Father discovered how much Arthur feared them, he locked him alone in a room with them, to force him to confront what he was most afraid of. I can't imagine what it must have been like for a five-year-old boy, to be shut away with those beasts for hours." She smiled bitterly. "Trust my father, to give literal meaning to the phrase, 'thrown to the dogs.' He should have protected his son, he chose instead to put him through hell."
Gwen stared at her without blinking. She tried to speak, to ask something, but her throat had become very tight.
Arthur was so eternally confident and self-assured, that it was impossible to envision him, as a frightened child.
And yet, so much of his reserve, must have come from the painful lesson at an early age, that there was no one to help him. No one to safeguard him against his fears.
Ridiculously, though Arthur was now a full-grown man in his prime, she longed to comfort the little boy he had been.
"My father wished for his heir to be independent and hard-hearted," Lady Morganna continued, "So that, no one could ever take advantage of him. And therefore, whenever he saw that Arthur had become fond of someone...a favorite nanny, for example...she was dismissed at once. My brother discovered, that to display affection for anyone, would result in their being sent away. He became distant with whom he loved...but did not want to lose...including Alyssa and myself. From what I understand, things improved for him, when he was sent away to school, where his friends became a makeshift family."
'That's why he has remained a steadfast friend to Lord Gwaine,' Gwen thought.
"Did your mother never interfere on her children's behalf?" she asked.
"No, she was too preoccupied with her own affairs."
They were both silent for a time.
Lady Morganna waited patiently for Gwen to speak, seeming to understand, that she was trying to absorb what she had been told.
"What a relief it must have been, when the old Earl passed away," she murmured.
"Yes. A sad statement of a man's life, that the world should have been so improved by his absence," Lady Morganna said.
"He did not succeed in his attempts to make your brother cold and heartless."
"No, indeed," Lady Morganna murmured. "I'm glad you can see that, my dear. Arthur has come so far, and yet, he is still very much in need of...lightness."
Rather than ease her curiosity about the Earl, the conversation had only awakened more questions, a deluge of them.
However, her acquaintance with Lady Morganna was still too new and untested, for her to be certain, how far her questions could go, before they were gently dismissed.
"To your knowledge, my lady," Gwen finally ventured, "Has the Earl of Westcliff, ever seriously considered, marrying someone before? I am aware, that there once was a woman for whom he had feelings..."
"Oh, that...it was nothing, really. Arthur would have tired of her quickly, had Lord St. Gwaine not stolen her away. Believe me, had Arthur wished to fight for her, she would have been his for the taking. What he never seemed to understand...what the rest of us saw... was that, it was all a ploy on her part, to arouse his jealousy, and induce him to marry her. But her plan failed, because, Arthur wasn't really interested in her. She was one of a string of women, who...well, as you can guess, Arthur has never lacked for female attention. He's a bit spoiled in that way, having had women practically fall into his arms, ever since he came of age."
She threw Gwen a playful glance.
"I'm sure he has found it refreshing, to encounter a woman who actually dares to disagree with him."
"I'm not certain that 'refreshing' would be his first choice of words," Gwen replied wryly. "However, when I don't like something that he's done, I do not hesitate to tell him so."
"Good," Lady Morganna returned. "That is precisely what my brother needs. There are few women...or men, for that matter...who ever contradict him. He is a strong man, who requires an equally strong wife to balance his nature."
Gwen found herself, needlessly smoothing the skirts of her pale blue gown, as she remarked carefully,
"If the Earl of Westcliff and I did marry...he would face many objections from relatives and friends, wouldn't he? Especially, from the countess."
"His friends would never dare," Lady Morganna replied at once. "As for my mother..." She hesitated and then said frankly, "She has already made it clear, that she does not approve of you. I doubt she ever will. However, that leaves you in very large company, as she disapproves of nearly everyone. Does it worry you that she opposes the match?"
"It tempts me beyond reason," Gwen said, causing Lady Morganna to erupt with laughter.
"Oh, I do like you," she gasped. "You must marry Arthur, as I would love above all else, to have you as a sister-in-law."
Sobering, she stared at Gwen with a warm smile.
"And I have a selfish reason, for hoping that you will accept him. Although Mr. Shaw and I have no immediate plans to move to New York, I know that day will not be long in coming. When that happens, I should be relieved to know, that Arthur is married and has someone to care for him, with both his sisters living so far away."
She stood from the bench, straightening her skirts.
"The reason I've told you all of this, is because, I wanted you to understand, why it is so difficult for Arthur to abandon himself to love. Difficult, but not impossible. My sister and I have finally managed to break free of the past, with the help of our husbands. But Arthur's chains are the heaviest of all. I know that he is not the easiest man to love. However, if you could bring yourself to meet him halfway...perhaps, even a bit more than halfway...I believe you would never have cause to regret it."
The estate was swarming with industrious servants, who reminded one, of bees in a hive, as they undertook the complicated chore of packing their masters' and mistresses' belongings.
The general company would depart the day after tomorrow, though some were already taking their leave.
Few were inclined to make a late departure, however, as no one wanted to miss the large farewell ball, that would be held on the last evening of the house party.
Gwen was thrown into frequent proximity with her mother, who was supervising...or harassing, as it might more accurately be said...a pair of housemaids, in their laborious efforts, to fold and pack hundreds of articles, into the great leather-bound steamer trunks, that had been brought up by the footman.
After the stunning turn of events in the past day or two, she fully expected her mother to plot out her every word and gesture, in the effort to secure a betrothal, with the Earl of Westcliff.
However, Mrs. Sweetly was surprisingly quiet and indulgent, seeming to choose her words with extreme care, whenever she and Gwen spoke.
On top of that, she did not mention Arthur at all.
"What is the matter with her?" Gwen asked Daisy, bewildered by her mother's docile manner.
It was nice not to have to scrap and spar with her, but at the same time, now, was when Gwen would have expected her mother, to mow her over, like a charging horse brigade.
Daisy shrugged and replied puckishly,
"One can only assume, that since you've done the opposite of everything she has advised, and you seem to have brought the Earl of Westcliff up to scratch, Mother has decided to leave the matter in your hands. I predict, that she will turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to anything you do, so long as you manage to keep the Earl's interest."
"Then...if I steal away to the Earl's room later this evening, she won't object?"
Daisy gave a low laugh.
"She would probably help you to sneak up there, if you asked." She gave Gwen an arched glance. "Just what are you going to do with the Earl of Westcliff, alone in his room?"
Gwen felt herself flush.
"Negotiate."
"Oh. Is that what you call it?"
Biting back a smile, she narrowed her eyes.
"Don't be saucy, or I won't tell you the lurid details later."
"I don't need to hear them from you," Daisy said airily. "I've been reading the novels that Lady Morganna recommended...and now, I daresay, I know more than you and Isabelle put together."
Gwen couldn't help laughing.
"Dear, I'm not certain that those novels are entirely accurate, in their depiction of men, or of...of that."
Daisy frowned.
"In what way are they not accurate?"
"Well, there's not really any sort of...you know, lavender mist and the swooning, and all the flowery speeches."
Daisy regarded her with sincere disgruntlement.
"Not even a little swooning?"
"For heaven's sake, you wouldn't want to swoon, or you might miss something."
"Yes, I would. I should like to be fully conscious for the beginning, and then I should like to swoon through the rest of it."
Gwen regarded her with startled amusement.
"Why?"
"Because, it sounds dreadfully uncomfortable. Not to mention revolting."
"It's not."
"Not what? Uncomfortable, or revolting?"
"Neither," Gwen said, in a matter-of-fact tone, though she was struggling not to laugh. "Truly, Daisy. I would tell you if it were otherwise. It's lovely. It really is."
Her younger sister contemplated that, and glanced at her skeptically.
"If you say so."
Smiling to herself, Gwen thought about the evening ahead of her, and felt a thrill of eagerness, at the prospect of being alone with Arthur.
Her conversation in the orangery with his sister, had given her a greater understanding, of how remarkable it was, that he had let his guard down with her, to the extent that he already had.
Perhaps, it wasn't a certainty that their relationship would be filled with turmoil. It took two to argue, after all.
It was possible that she could find ways to decide, when something was worth fighting over, or when she should simply dismiss it, as unimportant.
And Arthur had already shown signs of being willing to accommodate her.
There had been that apology in the library, for example, when he could have crushed her pride, and had chosen not to.
Those were not the actions of an uncompromising man.
If only she were a bit more artful, like Isabelle, she might have a better chance at managing Arthur.
But she had always been too blunt and straightforward, to possess any feminine wiles.
'Ah, well,' she thought wryly, 'I've gotten this far without any wiles...I suppose I'll do fine, if I just blunder on ahead, the way I've been doing.'
Idly sorting through some articles on the dresser in the corner, Gwen set aside the necessities, that would have to remain unpacked, until their departure the day after next.
Her silver-backed brush, a rack of pins, a fresh pair of gloves...
She paused, as her fingers closed around the vial of perfume, that Mr. Mettle had given her.
"Oh dear," she murmured, sitting on the spindly velvet-upholstered chair. She stared at the glittering vial, that was cradled in her palm. "Daisy...am I obligated to tell the Earl, that I used a love potion on him?"
Her younger sister seemed appalled by the very idea.
"I should say not. What reason would you have to tell him?"
"Honesty?" Gwen suggested.
"Honesty is overrated. As someone once said, secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the heart."
"It was the Duc de Richelieu," said Gwen, who had read the same book of philosophy, during their schoolroom lessons. "And the accurate quote is, 'Secrecy is the first essential, in affairs of the State.' "
"He was French, though," Daisy argued. "I'm sure he meant the heart as well."
Gwen laughed and glanced at her sister affectionately.
"Perhaps he did. But I don't want to keep secrets from the Earl."
"Oh, very well. But heed my words...it wouldn't be a true love affair, if you didn't have a few little secrets."
Stay safe!