Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Check,” Gemma said, giving her grandfather a triumphant smile.

“One more, than we will see, young lady,” Her grandfather replied with a bright smile.

“Gemma, if you have a moment, your father and I would like your help,” Margaret said.

“Of course, mother. Allow me to win one more game, and then I will be with you,” Gemma replied with a smile.

“Thank you, dear. I think you should go see your father first. He needs your advice on the new plot he’s acquired,” Margaret suggested.

“You are most welcome. What did you need help with Mother?” Gemma asked.

“I need help with the winter attire. As you know, the days are already so much shorter.” Margaret replied.

Gemma looked at her grandfather, who watched Margaret and only spoke when she had left the room.

“So, is there ever a chance that you might grace me with a great grandchild one day?” He asked.

“Grandpapa, you have many children who can bear your great grandchildren. I am happy just the way I am,” Gemma said gently. She knew he only asked since he wanted her to be happy and settled.

“That is rather a pity. I think that you would make a great wife to the right man and a wonderful mother,” Her grandfather replied.

Her mind went to Lothar. She could not forget their short encounter and wondered if there would be a chance for her to see him again.

His heart belongs to another. Her mind yelled over her heart. Gemma considered letting her grandfather win and then thought better of it. He would know he had not won. He had caught her out before when she had previously tried to soothe his pride. She won the game and declined another before going to see her father.

She knew she might find him looking over the new plot of land. She decided to walk there rather than ride with one of the horses. As much as she loved to ride, it seemed unnecessary to do so. Her father waved when he saw her coming and walked to her to greet her.

“Morning!” He said as he came over to Gemma and embraced her.

“How are you, Father? How are things going here?” Gemma asked.

“It is going rather well. The land is good and only needs some cleaning. The problem is that I am unsure what to use it for. I hoped you might have a few ideas,” her father replied.

“I would either get a tenant who would pay to use the land, and if he plants crops, we could use the portion we would get to further save on expenses. Or you could use this land to plant feed for the horses. What we do not need, we could sell to other land owners,” Gemma offered.

“Both of those are truly fine ideas. My idea was simply to plant vegetables,” her father said, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck with his palm.

“It is not a bad idea, Father,” Gemma said.

“Perhaps, but I prefer yours. You have a wonderful mind for things like this,” he said with a proud smile.

“I must go see mother about attire. Why not walk with me? I believe it should be tea time soon,” Gemma offered.

“A good cup of tea right now would be just the ticket, I think,” he replied, as they started to walk back to the house together. Her father went to wash up while Gemma went to find her mother. Margaret was in the sewing room fighting with large rolls of fabric.

“Mother, why did you not ask for help?” Gemma said with frustration.

“I should be able to carry a bit of fabric, should I not?” Her mother said, offended. Then she smiled. “I know I am not as young as I used to be. It is why I want to see you settled.”

“Not you as well, mother. Grandpapa was just asking me if he would ever see a great grandchild from me,” Gemma said.

“And what did you say,” her mother asked.

“I said that I was fine the way I am,” Gemma replied.

“Not even Lothar?” her mother inquired.

“Mother, I have only met him once,” Gemma replied.

“That is once more than you have mentioned any other man. I thought there may be a chance, is there not?” her mother pressed on.

“He seems a good man. But his heart belongs to another,” Gemma declared, disliking how much the fact hurt her.

You do not know him. He could be a completely unpleasant human being! Gemma thought.

“Is he married or about to be? “Her mother asked.

“Not that I know of, but Mrs. Baker said that he has loved the same woman for years,” Gemma replied.

“That does not mean a thing. You should give him a chance at the very least,” her mother suggested gently.

“If he wants to, then yes, I will give him a chance. Does it not bother you that he might not ever love me?” Gemma asked.

“My girl, love can be a fine thing, but it does not always guarantee happiness. I would like you to be happy,” Margaret answered with a smile. “Now, what do you think of this blue fabric?” Margaret asked as she showed Gemma a swatch of fabric. “I just know it will bring out your eyes. I just worry it is too thin for our winters.”

“If we sew in a sheepskin, it should be well warm enough,” Gemma replied.

They both looked up as the bell was rung.

“A cup of tea is just what I need,” Margaret said.

They went to the study where her grandmother had brought in tea with sweetmeats. She had taken her place next to her grandfather. Her mother went to sit next to her father, and Gemma sat next to her parents. She looked at her family and could not help but smile. They had raised her with love and care. Unlike the friends she had gone to school with, her family valued her opinion.

Her grandmother chose food for her grandfather. He had told Gemma that it always tasted so much better when she dished his food for him. Gemma believed it would as she watched her grandmother. After more than fifty years of marriage, they still acted as newlyweds.

She would make sure he would eat and dress warmly in the winter. Her old hands may have shaken a bit, yet she refused to buy her husband clothes. She sewed every shirt and jacket with love. Her parents were also deeply in conversation. As lonely as Gemma should feel being the only singleton at the table, she instead felt more surrounded by love than she thought possible by having a family of her own.

“Your mother tells me that you may have met someone,” her grandmother turned her attention to Gemma.

“Well, I have, though he seems to have affections for another, grandmamma,” Gemma answered.

“That hardly matters if he is not engaged to the woman in question,” her grandfather added.

“I would not mind at all to see you settled as well,” her father said. “We have the wealth, but not the title we deserve. This Lothar you met is a duke. If you married him, then that would elevate this family into more of the stature it deserves.”

“You would have me marry just to give us all a title, Father?” Gemma said with surprise.

“I would just like to see my family all happy and settled,” he replied, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

***

A few days later, Gemma attended her cousin’s garden party. Gemma was not much of a socialite, but it would have reflected poorly on their family had she not attended. At times, an invitation served more as a reminder of an event, than an ask to attend.

Gemma felt nervous, even though her cousin Susan was a lovely young lady. Gemma knew that she was expected to act a certain way, and it was tiring to do so for hours on end. Then there was the purpose of these parties, and that was for single ladies and gentlemen to meet. Her cousin had taken great pride in having brought together many of the couples that were in attendance tonight. It was the very last place she wanted to be until she spotted Lothar standing near the drinks cart.

He wore all black except for the dress shirt he had on. Instead of wearing white as most men did, Lothar wore a light-brown shirt. Gemma liked that he could be different and look so comfortable, so confident. Gemma had felt like the proverbial sore thumb that stuck out everywhere she went.

She smiled but caught herself in time. She reminded herself once again that he may not be married but that his heart was not available. Gemma looked around to see if she could make conversation. She joined first one group of women and then the next but found their conversations to be utterly dull. Gemma thought she saw one of the women she had gone to school with and went over to greet her.

“Samantha?” Gemma asked the woman. Gemma was an only child, and Samantha had been as well. Wanting their child to socialize properly, her parents had Gemma’s friends come over to enjoy the finest tutors and a healthy social setting.

“Gemma Castwell, as I live and breathe,” Samantha answered in a thick, American, southern accent. Her friend had come over to England as a small child, yet her parents and she had retained their Georgian accent. They young women shared a short embrace.

“How have you been?”

“I have been good, thank you, and yourself?” Gemma said with a genuine smile. Samantha had been one of the few people in school who would be seen in public or on school grounds with the giant girl. Samantha had been and still was opposite in appearance to Gemma. She was five-feet tall, with an hourglass-figure who in comparison, looked more like she would be Gemma’s much younger sister than a woman a year Gemma’s senior.

“Well, as you know, I have gotten engaged recently,” Samantha answered as she showed Gemma her ring.

“Congratulations,” Gemma said as she looked at a ring fitted with a diamond so large that Gemma wondered, without jealousy, how her finger could carry the weight of it.

“Thank you. And where is your husband?” Samantha asked.

“I am not married. You know, that sort of thing was not something I ever planned to do,” Gemma replied.

“I remember. I just thought that you might change your mind as you got older.” Samantha replied.

“Well, no… I have not thought about the future as it is not promised to anyone. But I am so delighted for you,” Gemma said, and truly was happy for her friend. Though she was tired of being asked the same questions about having a husband and when she planned to get one.

It is what all people do, though I have not been someone who followed the more fashionable choices that most adhered to , Gemma reminded herself.

Where girls would start to dream of marriage at an early age and plan every detail to the finest point. Gemma could not be less interested in the subject. Two more women came over to speak to Samantha. Gemma tried to stay in the conversation but, once again found what they spoke about very dull indeed.

Gemma stood there and nodded where it seemed appropriate.

“The Rothmans are a good prospect. Then again, there is that mother of theirs,” a woman with blonde hair spoke.

“I would rather say the Fairchild estate alone is worth giving Robert the time of day,” her brunette friend chimed in. What do you think, Samantha?”

“Oh ladies, I would not have the first clue. I am taken, as you are both aware.”

“Yes, yes, we are quite aware,” they both said at the same time and then burst into giggles. A sound that was not necessarily unpleasant, rather it was too loud.

“What about the Duke of Exeter? Being a duchess might be nice,” the brunette said.

“Do not be ridiculous. The man is almost penniless,” the blonde said with a snicker.

“Besides, one feels sorry for the woman that dares marry him. His heart was lost years ago. He will never love another woman the way he does her,” the brunette said, and she had the decency to at least look sincere.

Gemma immediately disliked these two women. They might have been like most women who liked to discuss prospects. Most women, however, were not saying something vile about a lovely man.

Was he a lovely man? I do not know him any better than these women do. Why am I so angry that they speak of him?

No, they are being quite mean, she thought. They are not just having a discussion. Gemma was too lost in thought to try to join the discussion again and decided to get a refreshment. She tried to get Samantha’s attention to say she was going, but she was too deeply entwined in town gossip. Gemma smiled.

She has not changed one bit! Gemma’s memories of their school years flooded her mind. Samantha could be pulled into a discussion so easily that she’d been late for class several times, only so she could catch up on gossip. The one thing that made Samantha a good friend was the fact that she would listen to gossip yet never offer it. Gemma had, on numerous occasions, heard her defend their friendship. She would not soon forget that. She tried one last time and made a mental note to see her that evening again.

The table was laden with every fruit, savory tart, and sweet meat Gemma had ever seen, along with a few that she had not even seen before. She circled the table and took one of the plates from the side that had them stacked with cutlery beside it.

Gemma carefully selected only her favorites and made sure she did not take more than she could eat. Gemma reached over to retrieve a sweet pastry when she sensed someone had come to stand behind her. She was about to turn around to make conversation when the person greeted her first.

“We meet again, Gemma,” Lothar’s deep voice enchanted her ears once again. Her name had never sounded that good! “Oh but I do apologize for being so familiar, Miss Castwell.”

“We do indeed, Your Grace, and no apology needed, Your Grace,” Gemma replied. She had no idea why seeing him made her so happy. She smiled and continued to select nibbles to eat.

“So how do you know Miss Harper?” Lothar asked.

“She is my cousin. One of my dearest friends as well, Your Grace,” Gemma said, inspecting the cakes.

“I believe her mother, your aunt, is an old friend of my mother’s. Truly, though, I have no idea what I am doing here, I tend to feel improper at these types of gatherings,” Lothar said, selecting from the savory tarts.

“Well, I could say the same, Your Grace. These parties are less about enjoying the garden and more about finding a spouse. They should just stop being coy and call it a matchmaking party,” Gemma said more bitterly than she had intended.

Lothar chuckled. A deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate in her ribs. It was the type of laugh that coerced you into joining in. Gemma did so, and felt the tension in her shoulders relax.

“So you aren’t here in search of a suitor?” His voiced was laced with humor.

“I’m afraid not. I don’t think I’m quite suited for marriage. After all, the idea of giving up who I am, and most especially, my writing? I’m not sure that’s what I—” she suddenly stopped, realizing who she was talking to.

“That is quite refreshing, I must say,” Lothar said with a smile that lit his face up. “Of course I too despise these schemes, however,” he paused. “However, there is so much pressure to marry, it is after all necessary for some of us I suppose.”

Gemma looked at him then, unsure what he had meant by that. It was probably just another way of saying how odd I am. Gemma thought and plated more cakes. Her frayed feelings fueled her appetite. Why does it matter if he thinks I am odd? Gemma thought but knew that he had made an impression on her. Perhaps he would make a great husband. If only his heart was his to give!

Gemma turned to face Lothar. Again, she was struck by how tall and handsome he was. She looked up at his handsome face as she searched for her next words.

Just then, Gemma felt someone push her from behind. The unexpected jolt caused her to immediately lose her balance. She bumped into Lothar, expecting them both to topple over. Gemma blinked, confused. Her hands were on his shoulders, and his were around her waist. He was not holding on to her too tightly, yet she felt her skin tingle where he held her.

He caught me! Gemma thought with a start.

She looked up at him, expecting him to be irritated by her clumsiness, but his face seemed a combination of amusement and surprise. Gemma willed herself to speak, and then she willed Lothar to speak. They both gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. A moment in which the room was empty but for the two of them. A moment where time itself stopped and allowed them the brief moment to themselves.