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Chapter 18

"I’ve sent word ahead that I’ll have additional company with me. My brother will be expecting all of you, don’t be nervous."

Dawn nodded mutely, still feeling unsure of herself as she gazed at the passing streets from the carriage window. London was by far the most impressive city she’d ever seen, making Charleston seem almost a village by comparison. And she was about to meet a Lord, which made her so nervous she had to suppress the urge to vomit. Willow had helped her practice her curtsey and the proper manner to address William’s brother, but she was still concerned she would botch something. And then William would be ashamed of her, or angry and no longer want the bother. Maybe that was how Buffy had felt.

She still wondered if she’d done something to cause Buffy to not join them, despite Willow and Tara’s reassurances to the contrary. She’d wheedled and pouted for the reason until finally Tara broke down and explained that Buffy and William had had a disagreement that kept her from coming. But she’d refused to tell her more. What if their argument had been about her?

Dawn sighed and fought to keep from twitching in the unaccustomed finery that they’d finished altering for her on the voyage over. The carriage rolled to a halt.

"Looks as though we’ve arrived," William smiled at her reassuringly as the door opened and a footman in full livery began to help them out in front of an imposing townhouse in what appeared to be a very affluent area of the city. Dawn breathed as deep as her tight undergarments would permit and straightened her back further. "I’m ready."

"That’s my Bit. Now don’t be afraid. Oh, and you’ll have to remember to challenge him to chess, just don’t let him win. Little sneak will cheat when you aren’t looking."

She nodded and followed him up the steps to the front door, where another liveried footman stood ready to swing open the entrance.

"William!"

Dawn almost giggled at the slight, almost foppishly dressed young man in the hallway. He shared William’s general hair and eye color, and a family resemblance could be seen, but he was like a weak copy, a watercolor that had blurred in capturing the image. He seized his older brother’s hand and then grabbed him in a hug, as William sought to disentangle himself from the overly enthusiastic greeting.

"Andrew, how are you?" he asked, as he stepped back and urged Dawn up beside him.

"Wonderful." Andrew’s attention was quickly diverted to the three ladies, his eyes lighting up. "William, please introduce us. These must be the delightful traveling companions you mentioned."

"This is Dawn, my new ward."

"Magna puella," Andrew leaned over and kissed Dawn’s hand as she struggled through her curtsey and glanced at William in confusion.

"Don’t speak Latin and put on airs Andy." He turned to Dawn. "He called you a beautiful girl. Or I think that’s what he was attempting to do."

"Oh. Well, thank you very much, Lord Darlington."

Andrew waved away the title. "Please, call me Andrew." He continued to clutch Dawn’s hand.

William harrumphed and drew his attention back. "And these are Miss Willow Rosen, and her companion, Miss Tara McClay."

"Enchanted, my ladies." Andrew turned to them and again swept into a deep bow as he saluted each of their hands. "I am so looking forward to the next few days, we’re going to have a wonderful visit. Now, I’ve had rooms prepared for all of you, so that you can freshen up after your trip. William, could we talk?"

Servants leapt to attention and whisked the women away as the half brothers made their way to the study.

Andrew took out a handkerchief and stifled a cough with it as he poured a half glass of brandy and offered it to his brother, then poured another small amount for himself. He passed the glass over and William took a sip as he relaxed in the chair, grateful to have finally arrived, but eager to know what this urgent family business was all about.

"So, you seem to be having some adventures in Charleston! How on earth did you end up with such lovely women as traveling companions?"

William rolled the liquid in the glass. "It’s a long story Andrew. Met a girl, got caught up in her life, and ended up with the little one, her cousin and companion. Lost the girl for now, but I plan to get her back. Of course someone sent me an urgent letter insisting I come in person to London." He arched an eyebrow. "So can we get to that?"

Andrew sighed happily. "That’s so romantic. You’ve been slain by the arrows of Cupid."

"Andrew, don’t be melodramatic."

"Well, haven’t you? Do you love this girl? What’s her name?"

"Elizabeth." William smiled a little. "Buffy, really, everyone, her family, they call her Buffy."

"Buffy. That’s so unique."

William shook himself out of the memory. "Andrew, I didn’t come all this way to make small talk about my life. You sent a letter that there was urgent family business. It was not the most convenient time for me to leave, but I knew you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. So let’s get this out of the way. Are you having financial problems?"

He watched his younger sibling closely. Andrew had always been a little different and special. He’d been a sickly child, beset by various ailments that had kept him confined to the country home for much of his life, educated by tutors, rather than the schools William had suffered through.

Their relationship by all rights should not have existed. Yet from his earliest memory of him, Andrew had always been his shadow whenever he’d visited with his father, tagging after him, looking up to him. It had felt good to have someone regard him that way, almost as though he was his real brother, not some by-blow

And Andrew never seemed to have resentment for what their father had given him. He’d had the unusual position of being both the heir to the title and the youngest son, and William knew he’d been ill at ease with the mantle of his title since their father’s passing, unable to find his fit.

Andrew had dabbled at various occupations, but proven successful at none, though the elder Lord Darlington had provided financial advisors to ensure Andrew would remain comfortable. Still, William knew how easily the turn of a card or roll of the dice could bankrupt a family fortune, and Andrew had occasionally drifted into the more outrageous crowds that haunted London’s seedier sides.

Andrew shook his head. "No, no, it’s nothing like that Will. I’m moving to Italy, I’m going to paint!"

"You paint?"

Andrew smiled cheerfully, "Well, not yet, but I’m going to learn. It’ll be so wonderful, Will. And the doctors say that it’ll be good for me, the air is so much better there."

"Are you ill, Andrew?" William suddenly took note of the handkerchief and the slight cough that Andrew seemed plagued with. "Is this serious?"

"It’s been getting worse, but they think if I take this treatment it will provide a cure."

William leaned back, relieved. "Well, that’s great, Andy." He took a deep sip. "I’m glad to hear it."

"But there’s more!"

William sat up again.

"And it’s about you."

"About me?"

Andrew crossed to the massive desk that dominated the room and slid open the top drawer, removing a sheaf of papers that had a clear seal in the upper corner. He handed them to William, then resumed his seat.

William began to sift through the papers, skimming the top document, which appeared to be an order passed by the House of Lords. His eye caught his father’s name, then slowed and he found his own name and his mother’s. He began to read more slowly. Once done, he began to read again until he’d consumed every word.

He stared at Andrew. "What on earth is this about? When did this happen? Is this real?"

Andrew nodded. "It’s real. Lord Jeffries had promised father he would see it through, present all the evidence, and ensure the special dispensation was granted. It took him awhile, but he succeeded last month. You’ve been legitimized Will, by a special order of the House of Lords."

William gaped at Andrew. "What kind of nonsense is this? Why this bother now, when it doesn’t matter anymore? It was important for my mother, why did he wait? I couldn’t care less."

He tossed the papers to the side and paced behind the sofa.

"Will, he did it because I’ve never been strong and he knew I might not be able to have an heir. He wanted to make sure you could take the title." Andrew’s voice dropped. "And he wanted to make sure you knew he loved both of you."

William turned suddenly. "But Andrew, I don’t understand. You have the title. You don’t need me. I don’t want this. I’ve started something new, I’ve found someone special. I don’t want this kind of obligation."

"But it should be yours. Don’t you understand? It was always supposed to be yours." Andrew smiled. "Will, you know I never wanted this either. I’m no good at it. But you . . . you’re so much smarter and more competent. You were his favorite. He wanted it for you. For your mother and you."

"Andrew, no, it wasn’t like that."

Andrew patted his brother’s arm. "It’s alright Will. I’m just glad Jeffries got the bill through in time. I don’t want to be Lord Darlington anymore. I want to be a wandering Italian painter, looking for his muse." He grinned broadly. "And now, I’m going to go find our lovely guests. I’ll see you at dinner."

~~~~~~~~~~

William watched his brother bounce to the door and then sat down heavily. He poured a second brandy and closed his eyes briefly before picking back up the papers that had scattered to the floor. How had his father managed this? He flipped through the documents, the registry of his parent’s marriage.

Wait, a marriage certificate? He flipped further and found an annulment along with statements from villagers from the town near the Darlington estate. He slowly pieced together the record, how his parents had married, how his grandfather had forced them apart and had the marriage voided so the marriage to Lady Amelia could be consummated. His father had proved the falsity of the statements that had been ground for the annulment and had had a special dispensation granted to recognize the child of the earlier marriage.

He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, flustered even though he was unobserved by the show of emotion. The fact that his father had gone to such great lengths touched him, yet he couldn’t help but feel the efforts were too little, too late. He understood the gesture, yet the mantle of legitimacy and the prospect of a title meant little to him now.

And yet it appeared he didn’t have much choice. Andrew seemed content, excited even to be moving on. Which left him where? Back in London, embraced by the society that had shunned him before? Could he just ignore this new development and go back to Charleston?

Did this matter? In some ways it shifted everything. How others would view him, certainly. But even perhaps how he viewed himself. Only he wasn’t sure yet exactly how that was.

He gathered up the documents and placed them back on the desk. No matter what he decided, there were matters he needed to deal with first. Dawn, Buffy, the business. This could wait until later.

He touched the marriage record that lay atop the pile and softly traced his parents’ names inscribed there. How had they lived with those lies their entire life? Out of fear?

He straightened the paper and turned for the door, certain of one thing. He would not lead his life the same way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy nervously smoothed her gloves as she waited for the knock to be answered. She felt more than a little dishelved, despite her attempts to freshen up at the hotel after the long and tiresome train journey north. But she certainly wasn’t going to stay with the Rosens and have them pity her if she was unsuccessful in her attempt there. Or insist she simply stay on with them, protesting her wanting to teach as some crazy notion. Yes, this way was for the best. She’d know soon enough if her plan would work.

The door opened to a crisply attired maid in starched black with white trim, projecting the air of gentility for which Miss Greenlee’s Ladies Academy was renowned. "Please come in Mrs. Crawford. Miss Greenlee is expecting you."

The older lady still looked much the same as Buffy remembered her, back ramrod straight, hair perfectly coifed in a subdued style, and serviceable black day dress signaling that she was every inch the paragon of spinsterhood. With a brief inner shudder, Buffy realized that she was staring as where she would be in a matter of years.

"Mrs. Crawford, Elizabeth, my dear, do come here. It is so good to see you. My, it’s been more than five years now hasn’t it? I was so sorry to hear of your father and husband’s passing, so much for you to bear. How have you been holding up?"

Buffy smiled as the volley of questions and quickly gave Miss Greenlee the highlights of what had happened since she’d left the school, including the background about Dawn.

"And this girl, she’s the one to be enrolled?"

"Yes, William, I mean Mr. Montgomery, will be bringing her on his return from a business trip to England."

The slight catch as Buffy mentioned the British gentleman who would arrive with the new pupil didn’t go unnoticed.

"Now this Montgomery, there’s nothing . . ." Miss Greenlee wrinkled her nose slightly to indicate potential distaste, "inappropriate about his relationship with the girl, is there? Awfully benevolent to aid her in this way, without any sort of," she paused for effect, "compensation. And I really can’t have that sort of thing here."

Buffy flushed indignantly. "Miss Greenlee, for shame. Mr. Montgomery has no such designs on Dawn, why she’s just a little girl, really. He’s simply a generous individual willing to help those less fortunate."

"And I suppose you were the one to point out the need for that assistance?"

At Buffy’s shocked look, Miss Greenlee couldn’t resist a chuckle. "Now Elizabeth, dear, don’t think I’ve forgotten your propensity to try to save things, everything from stray kittens to the little chambermaid who got herself in trouble."

"I might have suggested he consider sponsoring Dawn, but he is truly the one who is the philanthropist here."

"So Mr. Montgomery values your opinion highly, then?" Miss Greenlee tossed out the question as she poured tea into a delicate china cup.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. When did this conversation become about William Montgomery and her? She was here to ask for a job. "To a degree I suppose. But Miss Greenlee, enough about Dawn, I’m sure she’ll do quite well here and I’m so glad you accepted her mid-term. What I traveled all the way from Charleston for was to discuss a proposition with you."

Miss Greenlee handed her the cup and busied herself pouring the next. "Yes?"

"You always taught us that a lady should be a useful member of society, should work to make better the lives of those around her. Since the passing of my husband, I’ve been at loose ends and have been trying to find the best way to accomplish that. And after careful thought, I believe the best way for me to do so would be to teach young ladies, to pass on the skills and values that you instilled in me while a student here. Miss Greenlee, I would like to teach here, under you. I’ve kept up my French, I could teach English, I’m not very good at embroidery, but I . . ."

"Elizabeth." Miss Greenlee halted the tide of suggestions. "Are you quite sure this is what you’d like to do?"

At Buffy’s emphatic nod, Miss Greenlee stirred her cup and watched the dark liquid swirl.

"Very well. I’ll take you on as an instructor on a trial basis. You can assist Mrs. Bishop with the English class to begin. I won’t pay you a salary until you’ve completed a trial of, shall we say, four weeks? However, you may take a room in Rose Cottage and have meals with the other instructors. Does this sound an acceptable arrangement?"

"Absolutely. Thank you so much, Miss Greenlee, I do appreciate it."

"Very well then dear, go and get settled in, you’ll begin classes Monday."

After a final round of effusive thanks, Buffy floated out on a wave of exhilaration to retrieve her bags.

Miss Greenlee sighed as she took a sip of the rapidly cooling tea and decided to ring for more hot water. Elizabeth Summers, no Crawford now, would have made a fine teacher. But if she was any judge of reading people, and she liked to think she was, Elizabeth would soon be Mrs. Montgomery when whatever tiff she’d had with this man was concluded. She’d give it until his arrival with the new student, Dawn.

Despite a propensity for pranks with her cousin, Miss Rosen, Elizabeth had always been one of her favorite pupils, and she hoped this William would make her happy. She might have to see if she couldn’t arrange for them to see one another on his arrival. She smiled benevolently. Yes, she just might have to do a bit of matchmaking.





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