Hi, as promised, new story. Not mine, but as always, I'm hoping you guys will give it a try.
Title: An Offer From A Gentleman
Author: Julia Quinn
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own An Offer from A Gentleman.
Prologue
Everyone knew that Guinevere Roberts was a bastard.
Everyone...including the servants...knew it. But they loved little Gwen...as she is affectionately called...and have loved her since she arrived at Penwood Manor at the age of three.
She was a small bundle wrapped in a too-big coat, left on the doorstep on a rainy July night. And because they all loved her, they pretended that she was exactly what the sixth Earl of Penwood said she was...the orphaned daughter of an old friend.
Never mind that her almond shaped brown eyes and dark hair matched the earl's precisely.
Never mind that the shape of her face looked remarkably like that of the earl's recently deceased mother...or that her smile was an exact replica of the earl's sister's.
No one wanted to hurt her feelings, or risk their livelihoods by pointing that out.
The earl, one John Worthington, never discussed Gwen or her origins, but he must've known she was his bastard.
No one knew what had been in the letter the housekeeper had fished from her pocket, when she'd been discovered that rainy midnight. Because the earl had burned the missive mere seconds after reading it.
He'd watched the paper shrivel and curl in the flames, then ordered a room made up for her near the nursery.
And she'd remained there ever since.
He called her Guinevere, and she called him my lord. And they saw each other a few times a year, whenever the earl returned home from London...which wasn't very often.
But perhaps most importantly, Gwen knew she was a bastard.
She wasn't entirely certain how she knew it, just that she did, and probably had her entire life.
She had few memories of her life before her arrival at Penwood Manor, but she could remember a long coach journey across England and she could remember her grandmother, coughing and wheezing and looking terribly thin, telling her she was going to live with her father.
And most of all, she could remember standing on the doorstep in the rain, knowing that her grandmother was hiding in the bushes, waiting to see if she was taken inside.
And she was. By the earl, who had touched his fingers to the little girl's chin, tipped her face up to the light and in that moment, they both knew the truth.
Everyone knew Gwen was a bastard, and no one talked about it. And they were all quite happy with this arrangement...
Until the earl decided to marry.
Gwen had been quite pleased when she'd heard the news.
The housekeeper had said, that the butler had said, that the earl's secretary had said, that the earl had planned to spend more time at Penwood Manor now that he was going to be a family man.
And while Gwen didn't exactly miss the earl when he was gone...it was hard to miss someone who didn't pay her much attention even when he was there...she rather thought that she might miss him if she got to know him better.
And if she got to know him better, maybe he wouldn't go away so often.
Plus, the upstairs maid had said, that the housekeeper had said, that the neighbors' butler had said, that the earl's intended wife already had two daughters.
And they were near in age to Gwen.
After seven years alone in the nursery, Gwen was indeed delighted.
Unlike the other children in the district, she was never invited to local parties and events.
No one actually came out and called her a bastard, because if they did, it would be tantamount to calling the earl, who had made one declaration that she was his ward and then never revisited the subject...a liar.
But at the same time, the earl never made any great attempt to force Gwen's acceptance.
And so, at the age of ten, her best friends were maids and footmen, and her parents might as well have been the housekeeper and the butler.
But now she was getting sisters for real...
Even though she knew she could not call them her sisters.
She knew that she would be introduced as Guinevere Evangeline Roberts, the earl's ward, but they would feel like sisters. And that was what really mattered.
And so, one February afternoon, Gwen found herself waiting in the great hall along with the assembled servants, watching out the window for the earl's carriage to pull up the drive, carrying in it the new countess and her two daughters.
And, of course, the earl.
"Do you think she'll like me?" Gwen whispered to Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper. "The earl's wife, I mean."
"Of course she'll like you, darling," Mrs. Walker whispered back. But her eyes hadn't been as certain as her tone.
The new countess might not take kindly to the presence of her husband's by-blow.
"And I'll take lessons with her daughters?"
"No point in having you take your lessons separately, love."
Gwen nodded thoughtfully, then started to squirm when she saw the carriage rolling up the drive.
"They're here!" she whispered.
Mrs. Walker reached out to pat her on the head, but she had already dashed off to the window, practically pressing her face up to the glass.
The earl stepped down first, then reached in and helped down two young girls. They were dressed in matching black coats.
One wore a pink ribbon in her hair; the other yellow.
Then, as the two girls stepped aside, the earl reached up to help one last person from the carriage.
Gwen's breath caught in her throat as she waited for the new countess to emerge.
Her little fingers crossed and a single,
"Please," whispered over her lips.
'Please let her love me.'
Maybe if the countess loved her, then the earl would love her as well. And maybe, even if he didn't actually call her daughter, he'd treat her as one, and they'd be a family truly.
As Gwen watched through the window, the new countess stepped down from the carriage, her every movement so graceful and pure, that Gwen was reminded of the delicate lark that occasionally came to splash in the birdbath in the garden.
Even the countess' hat was adorned by a long feather, its turquoise plume glittering in the hard winter sun.
"She's beautiful," she whispered.
She darted a quick look back at Mrs. Walker to gauge her reaction, but the housekeeper was standing at strict attention, eyes straight ahead, waiting for the earl to bring his new family inside for introductions.
Gwen gulped, not exactly certain where she was meant to stand.
Everyone else seemed to have a designated place.
The servants were lined up according to rank, from the butler right down to the lowliest scullery maid. Even the dogs were sitting dutifully in the corner, their leads held tight by the Keeper of the Hounds.
But she was rootless.
If she was truly the daughter of the house, she'd be standing with her governess, awaiting the new countess.
If she was truly the earl's ward, she'd be in much the same place. But Miss Clarke had caught a head cold and refused to leave the nursery to come downstairs.
None of the servants believed for a second that the governess was truly ill. She'd been fine the night before, but no one blamed her for the deception.
Gwen was, after all, the earl's bastard, and no one wanted to be the one to offer potential insult to the new countess by introducing her to her husband's by-blow.
And the countess would have to be blind, stupid or both, not to realize in an instant that Gwen was something more than the earl's ward...
Suddenly overcome with shyness, Gwen shrank into a corner as two footmen threw open the front doors with a flourish.
The two girls entered first, then stepped to the side as the earl led the countess in.
The earl introduced the countess and her daughters to the butler. And the butler introduced them to the servants.
And Gwen waited...
The butler presented the footmen, the chef, the housekeeper and the grooms.
And Gwen waited...
He presented the kitchen maids, the upstairs maids and the scullery maids.
And Gwen waited...
And then finally, the butler...Wentworth was his name...presented the lowliest of the lowest of maids, a scullery girl named Maggie, who had been hired a mere week earlier.
The earl nodded and murmured his thanks.
And Gwen was still waiting...completely unsure of what to do.
So she cleared her throat and stepped forward, a nervous smile on her face.
She didn't spend much time with the earl, but she was trotted out before him whenever he visited Penwood Manor. And he always gave her a few minutes of his time, asking about her lessons before shooing her back up to the nursery.
Surely he'd still want to know how her studies were progressing, even now that he'd married.
Surely he'd want to know that she'd mastered the science of multiplying fractions, and that Miss Clarke had recently declared her French accent, "perfection."
But he was busy saying something to the countess' daughters, and he didn't hear her.
So she cleared her throat again, this time more loudly, and said,
"My lord?" in a voice that came out a bit more squeaky than she'd intended.
The earl turned around.
"Ah, Guinevere," he murmured, "I didn't realize you were in the hall."
Gwen beamed. He hadn't been ignoring her after all.
"And who might this be?" the countess asked, stepping forward to get a better look.
"My ward," the earl replied. "Miss Guinevere Roberts."
The countess speared her with an assessing look, then her eyes narrowed.
And narrowed.
And narrowed some more.
"I see," she said.
And everyone in the room knew instantly that she did see.
"Victoria," the countess said, turning to her two girls, "Penelope, come with me."
The girls moved immediately to their mother's side. And Gwen hazarded a smile in their direction.
The smaller one smiled back, but the older one, whose hair was the color of spun gold, took her cue from her mother, pointed her nose in the air, and looked firmly away.
Gwen gulped and smiled again at the friendly girl, but this time the little girl chewed on her lower lip in indecision, then cast her eyes towards the floor.
The countess turned her back on Gwen and said to the earl,
"I assume you have had rooms prepared for Victoria and Penelope."
He nodded.
"Near the nursery. Right next to Guinevere."
There was a long silence, and then the countess must've decided that certain battles should not be conducted before the servants, because all she said was,
"I would like to go upstairs now."
And she left, taking the earl and her daughters along with her.
Gwen watched the new family walked up the stairs, and then, as they disappeared onto the landing, she turned to Mrs. Walker and asked,
"Do you think I should go up to help? I could show the girls the nursery."
Mrs. Walker shook her head.
"They looked tired," she lied. "I'm sure they'll be needing a nap."
Gwen frowned. She'd been told that Victoria was eleven and Penelope was ten. Surely that was a bit old for taking naps.
Mrs. Walker patted her on the back.
"Why don't you come with me? I could use a bit of company, and Cook told me that she just made a fresh batch of shortbread. I think they're still warm."
Gwen nodded and followed her out of the hall. She'd have plenty of time that evening to get to know the two girls.
She'd show them the nursery and then they'd become friends. And before long, they'd be as sisters.
She smiled. It would be glorious to have sisters.
As it happened, Gwen did not encounter Victoria and Penelope...or the earl and countess, for that matter...until the next day.
When she entered the nursery to take her supper, she noticed that the table had been set for two...not four.
And Miss Clarke...who had miraculously recovered from her ailment...said that the new countess had told her that her two daughters were too tired from their travels to eat that evening.
But the girls had to have their lessons, and so, the next morning, they arrived in the nursery, trailing the countess by one step each.
Gwen had been working at her lessons for an hour already, and she looked up from her Arithmetic with great interest.
She didn't smile at the girls this time. Somehow it seemed best not to.
"Miss Clarke," the countess said.
Miss Clarke bobbed a curtsy, murmuring,
"My lady."
"The earl tells me you will teach my daughters."
"I will do my best, my lady."
The countess motioned to the older girl, the one with golden hair and cornflower eyes. She looked, Gwen thought, as pretty as the porcelain doll the earl had sent up from London for her seventh birthday.
"This..." the countess said, "...is Victoria. She is eleven. And this..." she then motioned to the other girl, who had not taken her eyes off of her shoes, "...is Penelope. She is ten."
Gwen looked at Penelope with great interest. Unlike her mother and sister, her hair and eyes were quite dark, and her cheeks were a bit pudgy.
"Gwen is also ten," Miss Clarke replied.
The countess' lips thinned.
"I would like you to show the girls around the house and garden."
Miss Clarke nodded.
"Very well. Gwen, put your slate down. We can return to Arithmetic..."
"Just my girls," the countess interrupted, her voice somehow hot and cold at the same time. "I will speak with Gwen alone."
Gwen gulped and tried to bring her eyes to the countess', but she only made it as far as her chin.
And as Miss Clarke ushered Victoria and Penelope out of the room she stood up, awaiting further direction from her father's new wife.
"I know who you are," the countess said the moment the door clicked shut.
"M-my lady?"
"You're his bastard, and don't try to deny it."
Gwen said nothing. It was the truth, of course, but no one had ever said it aloud.
At least not to her face.
The countess grabbed Gwen's chin and squeezed and pulled until she was forced to look her in the eye.
"You listen to me," she said in a menacing voice. "You might live here at Penwood Manor, and you might share lessons with my daughters, but you are nothing but a bastard! And that is all you will ever be! Don't you ever, ever make the mistake of thinking you are as good as the rest of us."
Gwen let out a little moan. The countess' fingernails were biting into the underside of her chin.
"My husband..." the countess continued, "...feels some sort of misguided duty to you. It's admirable of him to see to his mistakes, but it is an insult to me to have you in my home...fed, clothed and educated as if you were his real daughter."
But she was his real daughter. And it had been her home much longer than the countess'.
Of course she didn't dare voice that.
Abruptly, the countess let go of her chin.
"I don't want to see you," she hissed. "You are never to speak to me, and you shall endeavor never to be in my company. Furthermore, you are not to speak to Victoria and Penelope except during lessons. They are the daughters of the house now, and should not have to associate with the likes of you. Do you have any questions?"
Gwen shook her head.
"Good."
And with that, the countess swept out of the room, leaving her with wobbly legs and a quivering lip.
And an awful lot of tears.
In time, Gwen learned a bit more about her precarious position in the house.
The servants always knew everything, and it all reached her ears eventually.
The countess, whose given name was Calliope, had insisted that very first day, that Gwen be removed from the house.
But the earl had flat out refused.
His wife didn't have to love Gwen, he'd said coolly. She didn't even have to like her. But she had to put up with her.
He had owned up to his responsibility to the girl for seven years, and he wasn't going to stop now.
Victoria and Penelope took their cues from their mother and treated Gwen with hostility and disdain...although Penelope's heart clearly wasn't into torture and cruelty in the way her sister was.
Victoria liked nothing better than to pinch and twist the skin on the back of Gwen's hand when Miss Clarke wasn't looking.
But Gwen never said anything; she rather doubted that Miss Clarke would have the courage to reprimand Victoria anyway. The girl would surely run to her mother with a false tale.
And if anyone noticed that Gwen's hands were perpetually purple or red, no one ever said so.
Penelope showed her the occasional kindness, although more often than not, she just sighed and said,
"My mummy says I'm not to be nice to you."
As for the earl, he never intervened.
Gwen's life continued in this vein for four years, until the earl surprised everyone by clutching his hand to his chest while taking tea in the rose garden, letting out one ragged gasp, and falling face first to the stone cobbles.
He never regained consciousness.
Everyone was quite shocked.
The earl was only forty years old.
Who could've known that his heart would give out at such a young age?
No one was more stunned than the countess Calliope, who had been trying quite desperately since her wedding night to conceive the all-important heir.
"I might be with child!" she hastened to tell the earl's solicitors. "You can't give the title over to some distant cousin. I could very well be with child."
But she wasn't with child.
And when the earl's will was read one month later...the solicitors had wanted to be sure to give the countess enough time to know for sure if she was pregnant...she was forced to sit next to the new earl, a rather dissolute young man who was more often drunk than not.
Most of the earl's wishes were standard fare.
He left bequests to loyal servants. He settled funds on Victoria, Penelope and even Gwen, ensuring that all three girls would have respectable dowries.
And then the solicitor reached the countess' name.
To my wife, Calliope Worthington, Countess of Penwood, I leave a yearly income of two thousand pounds...
"That's all?" she cried out.
The solicitor went on...
…unless she agrees to shelter and care for my ward, Miss Guinevere Evangeline Roberts, until the latter reaches the age of twenty, in which case her yearly income shall be trebled to six thousand pounds.
"I don't want her," the countess whispered.
"You don't have to take her," the solicitor reminded her. "You can..."
"Live on a measly two thousand a year?" she snapped. "I don't think so."
The solicitor, who lived on considerably less than two thousand a year, said nothing.
The new earl, who'd been drinking steadily throughout the meeting, just shrugged.
The countess stood.
"What is your decision?" the solicitor asked.
"I'll take her," she said in a low voice.
"Shall I find the girl and tell her?"
She shook her head.
"I'll tell her myself."
But when the countess found Gwen, she left out a few important facts...
There you have it...our girl is in quite a pickle.
Stay safe!