Page 7 of A Foreign Crown
“Castles are cold, aren’t they? Is the draft constant?” Lady Bridgette looked from one to the other, possibly expecting an answer.
Aribella’s father smiled. “We love the beautiful breezes we get during the summertime. If you stand in the towers, the sun can shine on your face and the room fill with the beautiful smells on the moors—the heather, the salty sea.”
His serene face made Aribella smile. Just listening to him brought memories of pulling back the draperies over the windows and letting in the spring air and sunshine. The breeze would always bring up lovely memories carried on the air.
“But during the winter...” Lady Bartholomew sniffed, and Aribella thought she might tire of that sniffing, disapproving noise before too long.
Aribella placed her fork down beside her plate. “In the winter, we place layers of tapestries over the windows; we fill our floors with rugs, our beds with blankets, and our fires with wood. We wear warm clothes.”
“And the location.” Lady Bridgette ignored Aribella’s response. “Do you not find it isolating?”
Aribella and her father and, at times, Lord Bartholomew continued through dinner to allay Lady Bartholomew of her fears of having to live in their beautiful estate. But Aribella found that her head was starting to pound and her patience was wearing thin. She wanted to shout, “If you don’t want our estate, then don’t steal it from those who love it!” But that could never leave her lips in their presence, so she withdrew into herself and said almost nothing more.
They moved into the sitting room, where the fires were blazing extra bright. Aribella grinned. Julia must have heard the drafty, cold air complaint. Aribella’s eyes misted. The servants all cared about the castle, the estate. She loved her servants as much as she could love any family, and certainly more than this distant cousin and his family. In truth, the warmth of her servants’ love and loyalty carried her through any time of cold or draft. She felt filled with their kindness now.
But then Lord Bartholomew came to sit at her side. His eyes held a certain intensity. “I wish to speak with you about something important.”
She nodded.
His hands shook. “I’ve never done this before.” He laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t have, would I, since these sorts of things are done only once?” He leaned closer. “What I would like to say is I’m interested in offering an alliance with your family.”
“An alliance?” She tilted her head, considering him. Was he talking about marriage? Or something different?
He cleared his throat and scooted closer on their shared settee. “Yes, with you. Are you interested in a courtship?”
“Oh. I see.” She considered him. What he offered was a lovely solution to all her worries about the estate. She would be the Duchess of Sumter, as she felt she deserved to be. She would be given a chance to save the estate. She could save her servants. He seemed to be a good enough sort of person. Everything she thought she wanted stared back at her with a kind hesitancy. She should be jumping up in joy. She should, at minimum, accept a courtship.
But instead, she felt frozen. She opened her mouth to accept his offer, but no sound escaped. What was wrong with her? She swallowed, her tongue sticking thickly to the roof of her mouth. “I—”
Julia stepped into the room, curtsying, her face flushed with urgency. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
Aribella’s father waved her in. “Come in, Julia; what is it?”
“Forgive me; we’ve received an express from the palace. They’re awaiting a response.”
Aribella sucked in her breath. She placed a hand on Lord Bartholomew’s arm. “I’m terribly sorry. I thank you for the great honor of your words. I will give them the consideration they deserve. As you can imagine, this cannot wait.”
Her father broke the seal and scanned the contents. Aribella moved to his side with only a half glance back at Lord Bartholomew. The letter was unusual and was signed by Queen Charlotte herself.
“She says a carriage awaits down at the village. If you are willing to accept the invitation to come serve in your mother’s place as the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, they will come on the hour and retrieve you and take you to the palace.” Her father’s pride and happiness were obvious. “Your mother would be most pleased.”
Aribella felt her world spin around her. “So sudden. This isn’t how it’s done.” She clutched her father’s shoulder and was half aware of Lord Bartholomew at her side, steadying her. As if in another room, her father’s voice called for ink and paper. “We must tell them to come for you.”
She nodded and mumbled her take-leave while she left the room. “James.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I will be going to the palace. The carriage will arrive directly. I must pack my trunks.” She reached out her arm, and James immediately offered his to lean upon. “We must make haste. I hardly know what I need to do.”
“I’ll fetch Mrs. Givens for you. And the trunks from the attic?”
“Just so.”
He bowed and then hurried off, and she called, “Thank you.”
Julia raced by with her father’s answer to the man who stood in the entryway and then stepped up to Aribella’s side. “Shall we get you ready for the palace?” The excitement in her voice was too much.
All the while Lord Bartholomew and his question weighed on her. The added weight of the estate, caring for her father and the servants, all but froze her in her steps. “Does no one recognize how much I am needed here?”
