“Hamilton, you have done all that she asked in her will. I daresay she did not think that she would need to make loving the little girls and truly caring for them a stipulation in writing. She no doubt thought back through the years and assumed that such things would go without saying.” Lady Cynthia put her still-full sherry glass back down on the table and made to rise.
As she got to her feet, Hamilton found himself curiously concentrating on the rustling of her skirts. His aunt, like so many of her age, seemed to wear a multitude of petticoats. The current vogue for simplicity of dress was clearly not something that Lady Cynthia Lyndon intended to conform to.
“Of course, she did not know what you had become, my dear nephew. Although she knew you cared nothing for her anymore, still she knew you to be a man with a great capacity for love. But she was wrong, was she not?”
“I shall not speak upon the matter any further,” Hamilton said defiantly, despite the fact that he had a sudden feeling of abandonment as he watched his aunt gather up her small drawstring purse and straighten her skirts ready to leave him.
“Then neither shall I, Hamilton.” And that was it.
His aunt said nothing more, not even to bid him farewell. She simply looked at him sadly before turning and demurely making her way from the room without a backward glance.
Unable to stop himself, Hamilton rose to his feet and silently followed her. When he reached the great entrance hall, he was just in time to see his aunt letting herself out of the enormous wooden door; she had not waited for, nor even summoned, assistance of any kind.
Hamilton fought an urge to go after her. He wanted to assure her of his great affection for her. He wanted to at least help her into her carriage, although her driver would, undoubtedly, perform the task.
Still, Hamilton had a great sense of not wanting to leave things in such a way. He felt unsettled by it, despite not wanting, or intending, to apologize for his provision of care for the little girls.
After all, he had made provisions for them. They had a home, a nurse, a burgeoning education. What other orphans could expect so much?
But he knew that these were not the things to which his aunt referred. And yet, how could he find a way to look upon them when they looked so very much like their mother but spoke with their father’s voice?
Chapter 10
Georgette had awoken at the rising of the sun on Sunday morning with disconcerting feelings of dread sitting heavily in her empty stomach. She knew, of course, that it was simply nerves. It was to be her first visit to the little church on the edge of the village of Marsden. Whilst she looked forward to the Sunday service greatly, she could hardly think of it without imagining her nerves in the ride over from Draycott Hall. She had been dwelling on the thing for several days, imagining herself and the Duke of Draycott simply sitting in a most painfully awkward silence for an interminably long journey.
Of course, the journey would not, after all, be interminably long. She had made some inquiries with Daisy, her one and only ally amongst the servants, and had been reliably informed that the carriage ride would be no more than ten minutes. However, ten minutes was an awfully long time when one felt terribly uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that she wondered quite how Eleri and Ffion would manage the whole thing. Whilst they were little more than four years of age, still, they were sentient little beings who undoubtedly could feel an atmosphere even if they did not understand its origins or quite how they ought to cope with it.
As Georgette sat up straight in the bed and finally swung her legs over the edge, she realized that she had never seen the Duke in the company of the children yet. Perhaps there was still cause to hope after all. Perhaps, once he was in their company, things would be a little different. After all, who could not adore two such wonderful little children? But of course, their nurse did not adore them. The housekeeper did not adore them. Georgette realized that she would have to stop imagining that all the world could be relied upon to feel just as she did. The innocence of children did not affect everybody in the same way. Not everybody was moved to care and protect.
Georgette sat on the edge of the bed for some time, wondering what she ought to wear for church that day and if she should prepare anything at all to say in conversation with the Duke on the journey.
After a while, Georgette heard the hurried footsteps approaching her door and the gentle clank of the jug and bowl being placed upon the table outside. Hurrying to her feet, she raced for the door in the hope that it would be Daisy she encountered.
“Good morning, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said with a smile.