Eight

UV

ENGLAND

Father, you are such a snob!” cried Francesca’s father, John Haversham.

“There is nothing wrong with desiring to keep the regal bloodlines pure! Do you then favor diluting the blue blood of our nation? Surely not!”

It was an old bone of contention between them but his father had taken it up with renewed energy of late.

“Of course, I believe in the separation of the classes, but you are taking it too far, Father. Relationships cannot be calculated to engineer pure bloodlines at the expense of people’s real feelings.”

“Bosh! Of course they can. What do you think the royal family has been doing for generations? Exactly that.”

“And marital felicity is sacrificed. A heavy price! Cannot merely socializing with those of your own class bring about happy unions? Such manipulation of matrimony on the basis of wealth, power, and blood can only lead to misery. What is the purpose of life if it is not about trying to find happiness?”

“For shame, John, are you insinuating that your mother and I make each other miserable?”

“Of course not, Father. But it is a happy accident that you are contented now. Can you honestly say that at the beginning of your marriage it was so?”

His father paused to drink from the tumbler on the table at his side.

“You see, your hesitation is tantamount to a confession! You and mother are fortunate to have been able to carve out some degree of satisfaction from an arranged marriage. Can you say that all your friends have been so lucky?”

“That is beside the point. Purity of the bloodlines is essential to maintain Britain’s position as the driving force of the whole world. Would you have us lose that title to the likes of the French or the Prussians?”

“So, your position is that the only way to maintain our standing in the world is to arrange marriages for all the gentry in England, thus forfeiting their desires and inclinations? I cannot agree, sir!”

“That is the problem with your generation—no sense of duty. My generation, we knew what was expected of us and we did not shrink. No, sir, we did not! We have made this country great. Country before self; that is our motto. If I were Francesca’s father I would guide her into the right houses and be very careful of the company she kept.”

“Father, I will not force my daughter to marry someone she does not like. I was fortunate that Emily was both compatible and of a high-ranking family. I truly loved her before our marriage. I feel most fortunate that there were no machinations—”

His father laughed, “Ha! You think there were no machinations! Do you know your mother? She schemed and plotted for a full year to ensure a meeting between you and Emily.”

John raised his eyebrows in surprise but merely said, “Then I was most fortunate that I was a willing pawn in her schemes. How would it have gone if I had not liked her? Would you have insisted, then?”

“The past is the past, and it has all worked out and kept our bloodline a remarkable shade of blue. Let us not argue about it.”

John looked out the window, his jaws clenched. “I refuse to force anyone upon Francesca, Father, and I would appreciate it if you would not meddle either.” John was quickly losing patience, and rather than precipitate a falling out with his father, he continued, “I must go and see to the horses. If you will excuse me, Father.”

As he hastened through the door and out into the grounds, he thought about his father’s admission. Had his mother really engineered his meeting with Emily so that he would be marrying her choice? Had his parents actually discussed the options and decided that Emily, with her fortune and breeding, was the perfect match to ensure a pure bloodline and transfer of wealth? He shuddered at the thought.

He remembered clearly the day he had met Emily. He had thought it was by chance, but given his father’s statement, it appeared to have been the result of a carefully crafted plan. He felt sick to his stomach. How fortunate for all concerned that he and Emily had been instantly attracted to each other. Her family’s position and wealth meant that she could marry for love and not for more practical concerns.

He arrived at the stables and instructed the servant boy to ready his horse. He felt a great need to run off his fury with his father’s old-fashioned and harmful philosophies.

As he galloped through the estate, he reflected again on the first time he had had met Emily. He had not considered himself ready for marriage and had attended that dinner with his parents at their particular request. Upon their arrival, they had been welcomed by their hosts, slight acquaintances of his parents, and visited with them while awaiting the dinner gong. He remembered that he had had his back to the door and as it opened the hostess had said, “Ah, here is my niece, Miss Emily Davenport, lately arrived from Surrey for a visit.”

He recollected how his world had been instantly thrown into sharper focus as he had set eyes upon the most lovely young woman he had ever beheld. Their eyes had met and held, improper on a first acquaintance. Her power to command his attention was like a magnet, and he was unable to drag his gaze away until the hostess had coughed in distress at the awkward situation and broken the spell.

As he moved and severed the electric connection, he became aware of his every breath, every blink of his eyes, every pulse of his heart. He risked a look again at Emily, and it appeared as though she were bathed in a spotlight, everything surrounding her blurry in contrast. He imagined this disorientation must be what it felt like to be struck by lightning, only this was a lightning that filled him with awe, not pain. It was like an injection of pure spiritual enlightenment.

Emily, he noticed, had skin like porcelain and high cheekbones. Her nose, though delicate and feminine, had a slight bump on the bridge, which, rather than detracting from her beauty, lent her countenance some charming character. But it was her eyes and hair that hypnotized him. Her almond eyes were of an arresting, vibrant blue whose equal could only be found in nature and were emphasized by the contrast to her ebony, gleaming hair. As she spoke to the guests, her fine eyebrows arched playfully and he stopped breathing.

His mother approached as he continued to stare in utter admiration, and she tactfully asked if he would help her into a chair. He transferred his gaze to his mother, trying to register the words that came from her mouth, but his mind was totally engaged by Emily’s radiance, and she had to repeat the question before he recovered himself and assisted her to a chair.

At dinner, he was delighted to find himself seated next to Emily and was gratified to learn that she was not an empty shell, as so many refined, young ladies were, but that she had a sense of humor and a keen intelligence. As they talked, every movement of her slender fingers sent thrills through him, each turn of her graceful neck was poetry. He was bewitched both body and soul. In truth, he knew from that very night that she was the woman he wanted to make a life with and that to continue living without her would be misery.

To discover that this seemingly natural course of events was actually the result of a scheme of his mother left him feeling outraged. How fortunate for him that he had loved their choice.

His thoughts turned to his daughter. He had seen the wretchedness of other people’s children who had been forced to marry against their own hearts but in their parents’ interests. They led separate lives in hollow mansions, only eating together for appearances. He would never impose such a life upon his daughter for the approval of society. Indeed, he rejected a society that sacrificed its children upon the altar of power, money, or title. Deep love and true companionship were his own lucky lot and he wanted that and more for his beloved Francesca.

He looked up to see that he had ridden further than he had intended and turned the horse around so as not to be late for dinner. The hard ride had succeeded in blowing away the majority of his anger, and he headed for home, subdued.

T

“He is intent on allowing Francesca to make her own choice,” said Lord Haversham.

“Indeed, that is unfortunate,” said Lady Augusta. “You have placed us in a position that will necessitate that we take action to ensure the continued well-being of our estate. John and Emily have sufficient resources for their own needs from Emily’s dowry, but it is not ample enough for both houses.

“We must act! Our standing in society may depend upon it! I would rather die than be snubbed by our friends. Do you know how long it has taken me to rise to the top? The shame of a fall from grace would kill me. I have orchestrated the social ruin of many who tried to climb the social ladder without the proper qualifications. They would delight in my fall. I could not bear to be mocked and sneered at by them. The humiliation would not be borne.” Augusta huffed and turned away.

“This is your fault, John!” she suddenly cried, whirling back to point at him. “We will have to move abroad if we do not do something to save ourselves!”

Her eyes shone with tears, and her husband came to lay his hand upon her shoulder. She shook it off as if it were a hot coal.

“Augusta, I know the stakes are high, believe me! All is not lost. We will maneuver some more, and all will end as it should.”

“Will it, John? If things are as bad as they say in America … I cannot, I will not, live with the shame and degradation of bankruptcy.”

“The journalists are exaggerating the situation. They write shocking headlines to sell more papers. I will write to my plantation manager and you will see that is not as bad as they would have us believe.”

“That does not help our lack of funds here! Surely you have not really plowed all our available cash into the scheme?”

“It was necessary to shore up the operation. It is just a temporary setback. I have things in hand, and as soon as the next crop is harvested, the money will flow back into our coffers.” He placed his hand back on his wife’s shoulder, and this time she did not shrug it away. “In the meantime, if we can tap into the Ashbournes’ fortune, our immediate needs can be relieved. Our plan is already in motion and moving forward satisfactorily. Francesca seemed to be captivated at the ball, so I arranged that Langley be invited to Annabelle’s picnic. Furthermore, I believe Francesca is to make a journey to Brighton with one of her mother’s sisters, perhaps a little bird can suggest he make a visit there too. Our darling granddaughter will surely marry our choice but believe it to be her own. We have succeeded before. I have no doubt we shall succeed again!”