Guy took Meg over to his chocolate- and gold-painted brougham, which was loaded up with everyone’s luggage. The coachman and groom were already seated side by side, and a footman was on hand to help Meg into her superbly trimmed leather seat.
Once they had wound their way through several villages and passed the gates of a few enticing estates—Henry seemed to know the owners of them all and was happy to regale Louisa with juicy gossip about the inhabitants—he turned the phaeton off the road onto a raked gravel driveway. He drove for a little while, until they reached an impressive archway that was set over a pair of elaborate black iron gates topped with gold spikes. To either side, a high pale stone wall stretched quite some way in either direction, and set into the wall, charmingly, there seemed to be a little gatehouse on each side.
Louisa’s eyes roamed through the gates to the well-tended lawn that lay to each side of the driveway before it disappeared into a line of overhanging trees. The idea of travelling in the shade was appealing. Even though Louisa had her parasol, they had been jostling along in the sun for over two hours now.
The lodge keeper appeared and greeted Henry.
“Welcome to Ashworth, Louisa,” Henry said. “A group of friends have come up from London—Parliament has closed and they are bored, so I sent word to them all to join us—junior ministers and so on. I must say, we have rather a lot of men.” Henry moved the carriage on through the gate and toward the heavenly trees.
“No doubt they will attract a ton of young ladies then,” Louisa said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
She stole a glance at Henry—a smile passed across his face.
Later, as the driveway tended up to a rise beyond the bank of trees, Louisa could not help but gasp. In front of her stood a palace—there was only one word for it—built entirely of honey-colored stone.
Louisa almost stood up in her seat, she was so entranced by the sight. A turret sat on each of the four corners of a vast, square-shaped building. Small spires and ornate decorations were inlaid into the elegant stone, visible even from the vantage point where they sat. A colossal square tower sat in the middle of the palace, overlooking the wide expanse of park that surrounded it. The contrast to Guy’s elegant but small estate was marked, and while Louisa’s family owned a house in Newport as well as one in Boston, she had not seen anything like Ashworth in her life.
Louisa found herself consumed with questions, some of which she suspected would cause Henry to laugh. How many people would it take to run a place like this? How many bedrooms did it have? And how on earth was she supposed to address his parents?
Henry pushed the horses into a trot. The road took them around the expansive park and through another copse of trees that edged the estate before wending its way to the left, straight toward the main entrance to Ashworth.
The house steward was waiting to greet them, along with Henry’s valet, when they pulled up underneath the stately portico.
“I sent a telegram this morning to my parents. Asked them to get the servants to prepare for dancing over the weekend. And I have some other surprises planned. I do get bored easily, and I like to give the staff a bit of excitement,” Henry said. He handed the reins to the footman who had appeared at his side and jumped down from the carriage.
Another footman appeared to hand Louisa down.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the young man. He nodded, but remained poker-faced. Louisa caught Meg’s eye and grinned as her friend made exactly the same mistake. The way the English handled their servants was a little more formal than back at home in Boston.
Henry proved himself to be one of the most exciting and charming hosts Louisa had ever had the fortune to know. The house party that had arrived for the summer’s weekend turned into a moveable feast. Guests seemed to pop up and disappear during the course of the next two weeks. Every day there were different people for dinner, and Henry was tireless in his organization of dances, moonlit punts on the lakes dotting the estate, picnics, and drives to the follies that surrounded the park. Even pillow fights in the early mornings seemed to be de rigueur—Henry’s parents turned a blind eye to any antics that went on in what were apparently more than fifty guest bedrooms. The duke and the duchess seemed to be utterly preoccupied with their own lives. Their appearances were occasional and their manner was formal. If Louisa’s mother knew how lax the chaperoning was, Louisa suspected that she might be called back to Boston straightaway.
When Louisa found herself with any spare time, she would try to explore where she could. Henry had given her and Meg a tour of the staterooms—the vast library, lined with shelves of English oak; the music room, hung with priceless sixteenth-century Italian tapestries; the drawing room, decorated in pale silks by the fourth duchess of Ashworth; and the billiard room, its walls showing off the palace’s collection of Flemish art.