To Win a Proper Lady

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Tea with Mrs Julius Redepenning and children

Aldridge ushered Mrs Julius Redepenning — Mia — and her three wards into his mother’s elegant sitting room. “Mission accomplished, Mama,” he said. He winked at Mia and ruffled the smallest child’s hair. “She’s actually really nice,” he whispered to the eldest, the only boy, before whisking himself out of the room.

Her Grace exchanged a twinkling smile with Mia. She’d sent Aldridge with her message for this very reason — his ability to use his charm to set people at ease. Sometimes, the awe with which people approached duchesses could be useful. At times like this, she could wish for a less elevated social position.

“Come and let me see you,” she said to the children. They obediently lined up in front of her. Good. The task of making them acceptable to Society would not be inhibited by their appearance.  Yes, their dark hair and exotic tilt to their eyes hinted at their Javanese blood, and their skin was more ivory than cream, apart from the boy, whose complexion was more golden, a sign of the time he’d spent at sea with his father. But it could be a touch of Spanish or Italian blood, gained on the right side of the blanket, that gave them their good looks, and no one would make mention of it if enough of the leaders of Society showed the way.

“You are Perdana,” she said, “and your family call you Dan.” He bowed, his eyes huge.

She addressed the older of the two girls first. “Marshanda, I believe. What a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Marsha, as they called her, dropped her lashes and curtseyed.

The younger girl was bouncing with eagerness, biting her lip as if to keep from bubbling over with words. When the duchess said, “This must be Adiranta,” little Ada beamed.

“You are a great lady,” she confided. “Ibu Mia said we must curtsey and be very polite, but we are not to be afraid because you are very nice, and the Prince man called you Mama, so I am pleased to meet you. Oh! I forgot to curtsey.” She remedied her oversight, and very well, too.

“That was a lovely curtsey,” Her Grace said, taking care not to let her amusement show on her face. The Prince man was presumably dear Aldridge, and he would be as amused at his elevation to royalty as she was.

He returned at that moment with a closed basket — the kittens from the stable mews that she had requested to keep her young guests entertained while she spoke to Mia. “I met your footman on the stairs, Mama, and relieved him of his duty.” She narrowed her eyes. He was hovering. Why was he hovering?

The children were soon settled on the hearth rug with a kitten each. Aldridge took the chair nearest to them and some wool from her tapestry basket which he was soon knotting and twisting to create them each a toy for the kittens to play with.

“He is very good with them,” Mia commented. To her credit, only a whisper of her surprise shaded her voice.

Her Grace make no answer. Aldridge had gone to considerable lengths to make sure that his irregularly conceived sons and daughters — four of them — could grow up without taint of bastardy. The duchess hoped he would marry soon and have children of his own. He would be a wonderful father.

She would say none of that to Mia. The topic for today was how they could help the irregularly conceived children of that scamp Jules Redepenning.

“It is early to think about their future, Mia,” she began, “but I can assure you of my support when the time comes. However, I understand from my friend Henry that you have a more immediate concern. Tell me about this Captain Hackett.”

By the time she had the salient facts, they had finished their tea, and Aldridge had drifted over to lean against the back of her chair, listening but saying nothing.

“I am leaving tomorrow for Hollystone Hall,” Her Grace commented, “and I understand you and the children are to join the Redepenning Christmas party at Longford Court. In the new year, though, the man may become a nuisance. Let me know if you need any pressure brought to bear.”

“David might be able to help, too, Mama,” Aldridge suggested. “If the man has one shady episode in his past, there will be others.”

The duchess nodded, pleased. “Well thought, my son. Mia, I shall drop a note to David Wakefield. You know him, I think.”

Mia nodded. “Rede’s friend, the private inquiry agent.”

At that moment, they were interrupted and the reason for Aldridge’s lingering became clear.

“What are you up to?” demanded His Grace, the Duke of Haverford, lurching into the room. “Conspiring? Planning to get rid of me, hey?”

On the hearth rug, the children reached for their kittens and then froze, like cornered mice. Aldridge, without seeming to move with purpose, was suddenly half way down the room, where he could put himself between the erratic peer and either of the two groups in the room.

His Grace balanced his weaving body on the back of a chair, peering at the children in some confusion. His rumpled stained clothes hinted at a night spent drinking, if his manner was not already clue enough. The canker sore on his nose was the only evidence of the sickness that was slowly destroying him; that, and his current state. Ten, even five years ago, he’d show almost no outward sign of over-indulgence, until he fell flat on his face and had to be carried to bed. “Aldridge,” he barked, “whose are the chee-chee brats? Yours? Eleanor, I’m on to you. You’ve been waiting, haven’t you?” He pulled himself up, a hideous simulacrum of the handsome commanding man he had always been, only the underlying viciousness left to carry him forward.

Aldridge moved to intercept his father as the man lurched closer, and the duke grabbed him by the arm. “She is betraying me, boy. Betraying you, too. She’s going to bring a cuckoo into my nest, you will see. I knew, as soon as Winshire brought that rogue home. I knew she would betray us. It was always him, you know. Never me.” He snarled over Aldridge’s shoulder at Eleanor. “Lying, cheating, bitch.”

“Now, sir,”Aldridge soothed, “you are upset. Come. I have a new shipment of brandy and I would like your expert opinion.” Before the mystified eyes of Eleanor’s guests, the duke burst into tears on his son’s shoulder and Aldridge led him out.

Her Grace sat in embarrassed silence, her considerable poise shaken not just by the outrageous accusations but by the old pain that Haverford had lived, and James had been away, too long for her to ever have a child by the man she had always loved.

Mia’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Carry on with your play, children. Lord Aldridge is looking after the poor sick man.” She dropped her voice a little. “What an excellent idea the kittens were. I wonder… Surely someone at Longford will have some. Kittens might be just the thing to give the children’s minds a cheerful direction.”

The duchess smiled at her, grateful. “You shall have all the help I can give you,” she promised, again.

This scene links my two current works in progress. It takes place after Mia returns to England in Unkept Promises and before the Duchess of Haverford goes to Hollystone Hall, for the Christmas house party that is the setting for a large part of To Win a Proper Lady. If you read the stories in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, you’ll probably also notice that it explains why the duke was not at the house party, and hints at why Aldridge arrived late.

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Tea with Sophia Belvoir

“So tell me, my dears,” Eleanor said, as she poured tea for the two Belvoir girls, “what do you know of this duel? I understand you were present at the time of the challenge!”

Felicity’s eyes shone with excitement. “Mr Winderfield was given no choice, Aunt Eleanor,” she insisted. “Mr Andrew Winderfield, I mean.”

“You probably know more than we do,” Sophia ventured. “After all, Aldridge was second to Weasel; that is, Mr Wesley Winderfield.”

The duchess shook her head. “Aldridge would not discuss dueling with his own mother, Sophia. Especially since he knows I disapprove of the way His Grace encourages Mr Winderfield — Weasel, I should say, for clarity — to behave towards his cousins. I have heard he shot before the end of the count!”

“The scoundrel,” Felicity said. “He has had to leave town, of course, and Lord Aldridge says he will never be his second again, so he had better not go around any more insulting people’s mothers.”

“And quite right,” Eleanor agreed. “The Winderfield brothers are among your admirers, are they not?” She was looking at her tea cup, so could have been referring to either sister.

Sophia, who was still smarting from her brother’s lecture about not encouraging the possibly base-born sons of the Earl of Sutton to dangle after Felicity, said, “We see them from time to time at Society affairs. But we leave for Bath this week, Aunt Eleanor, so I imagine we will not come across them until next Season, by which time this controversy about their birth should be resolved.”

The duchess, whose spy network in Society must be the envy of governments everywhere, did not comment on what she must know: that ‘from time to time’ meant nearly every event she and Felicity had attended all Season, since she first met Lord Elfingham, the older brother, in a small village in Oxfordshire. He had snatched a child from the path of two runaway carriages and ridden away with her heart. If he was courting either of the sisters, it would be Felicity, of course: the younger, prettier, more vivacious one. Sophia had no intention of discussing any of that.

Perhaps Aunt Eleanor understood, for she changed the subject. “I hope you will be back in London for the meeting of our philanthropic committee in September, my dears. I think you will like what I have in mind.”

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Sophia will be part of the organising committee for Aunt Eleanor’s house party, which was featured in Holly and Hopeful Hearts. Watch this year for To Win a Lady, the novel-length form of my novella from that collection, starring Lady Sophia Belvoir and James Lord Elfingham.

 

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Tea with Aldridge

 

Aldridge paced the room, not able to keep still for a moment, his body expressing the agitation his face refused to display. “He is getting worse, Mama. Whether it would have happened anyway, or whether the arrival of Sutton lit the flame, he lives on the point of explosion.”

“I know, my dear.” She knew better than Aldridge, in fact. Despite the long estrangement between her and her husband, they nonetheless lived in the same house, attended some of the same social gatherings, worked side-by-side for the same political causes. Aldridge kept largely to his own wing when he was under the same roof as his parents, which was increasingly rare. He managed all the vast business of the duchy, but Haverford had long since let go those reins to the extent that his only association with Aldridge tended to be through the bills and notes of hand that arrived regularly to be paid.

Aldridge thumped the mantlepiece. “This latest start… if word gets out that Haverford was behind the attack on Sutton and his family, it will be a disaster. Sutton would be well within his rights to demand Haverford’s trial for attempted murder. This family is no stranger to scandal, Mama, and there’s no doubt in my mind His Grace deserves to be hanged, silken noose or not, but…”

Eleanor’s distress was such she found herself chewing her lip. “Thank God no one was seriously hurt.”

“Thank Sutton and his sons for their warrior-craft, and me for finding out in time to send a rescue.” Aldridge heaved a deep sigh and took another fast turn around the carpet. “He intended murder, Mama, and when I confronted him with it, he laughed and said he did it for England. He has gone too far, Mama. If he is found out, he puts us all at risk. What if the Regent decides to regard a murder attempt on another peer as treason?”

Eleanor had not considered that possibility. The title could be attained, the lineage considered corrupt. Aldridge had worked for years to rebuild the wealth of the duchy after his father’s mismanagement. He could lose it all, including the title, and the Prince would be delighted to benefit.

Haverford had become more and more erratic as the year progressed. He insulted and alarmed other people at every event he attended, completely ignoring social conventions and saying whatever he thought, often using the foulest of language. Thankfully, he was showing less and less inclination to go into Polite Society. Even so, the duchess frequently needed to use all her considerable tact and diplomacy to soothe ruffled feathers and quiet the gossip that claimed the duke was going mad.

“He is going mad,” she acknowledged to her son, the one person in the world who could be trusted with the knowledge. “It is the French Disease, I am sure. It is rotting his brain.”

“We cannot bring in doctors to examine him, Mama. Who knows what would come of that; what he would say and who they would tell? He cannot be allowed to continue, however.”

Eleanor frowned. It was a conundrum. Who could prevent a duke from doing whatever he pleased?

Aldridge, apparently. “I have made arrangements. He has been persuaded to travel to Haverford Castle. When he arrives, trusted servants know to keep him there. He will be comfortable, Mama. I have arranged for him to be entertained, and have nurses on hand in case he needs them. The disease will kill him in the next year or two, probably, and he is likely to be bedridden long before the end.”

He was brave, her son. He was breaking the laws of God and man in showing such disobedience to his father and a peer of the realm. She was sure God would understand, but the Courts might not. She would not ask about the entertainment Aldridge had provided. Knowing Haverford as she did, she did not want to know details. “He must never be set free,” she concluded. Should anyone find out he was insane, the scandal would be enormous. Worse still for Aldridge.

“Never,” Aldridge agreed. “My instructions are to keep him from understanding he is imprisoned for as long as possible. With luck, the confusion in his mind will prevent him from ever working it out. I needed you to know, Mama, for two reasons. First, we need a story for the ton. Second, if anything happens to me, it will be for you to keep him confined until Jon returns to be heir in my place.”

“I hope dear Jonathan comes home soon, Aldridge. I miss my son. But do not speak of your demise, my dear. I could not bear it.”

Aldridge stopped beside her and bent to kiss her forehead. “You are the strongest woman I know, dearest. Fret not. I am careful, and I intend to live to grow old.”

Eleanor hoped so. She certainly hoped so.

 

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Haunted by the past on WIP Wednesday

Our heroes and heroines need a past, and in my kind of book, something about that past needs to still bother them.

I love stories where we get an early glimpse of this vulnerability, without lengthy backstory, then more and more comes out as the story unwinds. I was at a crime and thriller conference last weekend, and on a panel with Kirsten McKenzie, whose horror/crime story Painted does this to beautiful effect for both the horror and the crime plot threads. I didn’t finish the book until the trip home, and the others on the panel were all trying to discuss the history that motivated the key characters without giving away the key points. (Sorry, folks.)

Sometimes, readers of a series know at least some of what tears at the hero’s heart or the heroine’s, but we don’t know about the wounds of the other protagonist. Charles, in Caroline Warfield’s Children of Empire has kept his dignity despite his estranged wife’s lies and betrayals. We know this because those lies also hurt Charles’s cousins, each of whom stars in one of the previous two books. We learn more, and from Charles’s POV, but we also need to find out what drives Zambak to the other side of the world, where she and Charles will have to deal with their separate pasts as well as the budding Opium Wars, Zambak’s brother, a callous villain, and small-minded local society.

I could go on — in my favourite books, people all have pasts, and an important part of the story is them coming to terms with who they are because of that past.

This week, I’m asking you to share a passage where your characters share part of their past. It could be highly significant, like the books I’ve mentioned above, or it could be something quite minor. Mine is from To Win a Proper Lady: The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, which I’m rewriting as a novellisation of the novella I wrote for Holly and Hopeful Hearts. In this passage, I hint at a backstory that won’t become clear until book three of the series. Hint. The heroine of To Tame the Wicked Rake: The Saint and the Sinner, is Charlotte Winderfield. The hero is Aldridge.

Charlotte indicated the closed bedchamber door with an inclination of her head. “I take it Grandfather has heard that the Duke of Haverford has run mad,” she said.

“Mad like a fox,” James answered. “He has given up on the claim that my father is not the son His Grace of Winshire lost so many years ago. With our esteemed progenitor and Aunt Georgie both recognising him, that was a lost cause. He thinks to convince his peers that they don’t want half breeds living among them, dancing and worse with their daughters. It will be a simple thing, he thinks, to prove my parent’s marriage a fiction, and all of their children barred from my grandfather’s title.”

“Take a seat, James, and don’t loom over me. You don’t think it will be a simple thing?”

James obeyed, lowering himself into the chair opposite hers. “I think the man a fool for underestimating the King of the Mountains. You have heard our grandsire’s solution for swaying opinion our way?”

She had, of course. That was clear from the way she examined his face before she spoke; a considering look, as if wondering how much to trust him. “It is a good idea for you to marry an English girl with impeccable bloodlines.” With a snap, she closed the open book that was sitting on her knee. “That girl will not be me, James. I mean no offence, but I will not marry you, whatever Grandfather might say. I do not intend to wed, ever.”

“Thank you for telling me. Perhaps, you would be kind enough to help me find a bride that will fit the duke’s requirements and my own?”

“And what might your requirements be?” Charlotte asked.

“Someone I could grow to love. Someone who could be my friend and partner, as well as my wife.”

“You are a romantic, cousin. I warn you, Haverford is powerful. He will make it hard to find a girl from the right family who will accept you, despite our family’s name and your father’s wealth. Finding one who is your match may be impossible.”

James looked down at his hands. If she thought him romantic, she would be certain of it in the next moment. “Perhaps I have found her already. What can you tell me of Lady Sophia Belvoir?”