2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“ I don’t know why she’s asked me. I suppose it’s Anne’s doing – taking sympathy on me. But I don’t really want to go. I won’t know anyone, apart from Anne, and these society events can be so dull,” Isobel Howard said, sighing, as she looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace in the drawing room at Leamington Grange.

Her brother, Ernest, laughed. His sister had been complaining about the tea party hosted by Lady Oakley all morning, and it seemed she was trying desperately to find an excuse not to go.

“You might enjoy it. She’s quite a character, isn’t she – Lady Oakley, I mean,” Ernest replied.

He took little interest in societal affairs but had attended the wedding of Lord Maximilian to Lily Edge and had heard rumors of her past colorful life. She had been the writer of scandal sheets in London, and her words had brought down many a fine and apparently respectable family.

“Oh, yes, all that business – I don’t think it’s very nice, though Anne tells me she’s quite the reformed character. She’s heavily with child – I’m surprised she’s playing hostess in such a state. Women usually hide themselves away. Oh… I can’t wear this. I’m going to change,” Isobel exclaimed, and before Ernest could reply, she had rushed out of the drawing room in a fit of panic.

He smiled and shook his head, wondering why a woman as pretty and outgoing as his sister should be worried about a mere tea party.

It’ll be just the same as these things always are, he thought to himself, recalling the days of his childhood when he would sit in a stiffly starched collar at the tea table with his mother and her friends.

As the Duchess of Crawshaw, Ernest’s mother was expected to play host to all manner of societal gatherings, and as heir to the dukedom, Ernest, too, was expected to play his part. But as he had grown older – and wiser – Ernest had found his attentions drawn to philanthropy, and he used this new found interest as an excuse to avoid society as much as he could. The aristocracy were useful for the depth of their pockets, but as for spending time in their company…

“ The less the better, ” Ernest said to himself, rising to his feet and crossing to the window.

It was late spring, and the gardens of Leamington Grange were bursting into life. His mother prided herself on her garden, and it was tended by a dozen gardeners, the walled kitchen garden being the envy of their neighbors. As he stood looking out across the lawns towards a folly in the distance – a miniature Greek temple built by his great grandfather – Ernest heard the familiar tapping of his father’s stick on the corridor outside the drawing room. The duke was blind, and he used a stick to navigate his way around the house when there was no one to lead him.

“I’m here, Father,” Ernest called out, hurrying to the door, and finding the duke standing in the corridor outside.

“Ah, Ernest, I thought you’d be here. Is your sister there, too?” Ernest’s father asked.

“No…she’s gone to get changed…again,” he said, and the duke laughed.

“Just like your mother. Why can’t these women accept they’re the most beautiful creatures on earth, though I suppose I’m biased. It’s a strange thing, you know. I’ve never set eyes on either your mother or your sister, but I see them vividly, and I know they’re both as beautiful as the other,” he said.

Ernest smiled. His father’s affliction had never held him back, and growing up, Ernest had often forgotten the duke could not see. His other senses were so attuned, it was as though he had a sight beyond that of the eyes, and he was often the first to anticipate or realize what was happening around them – a distant sound or a scent. When Leamington Grange had suffered a fire in the dining room, it was the duke who had smelled it first, alerting the servants and saving the house from certain catastrophe. But it was not only the physical senses with which he was endowed, and his perceptions often went far beyond those of others.

“And she did look beautiful, Father. But she’s worried about making the right impression. You know how she is,” Ernest said.

He loved his sister dearly, but he wished she would have more confidence in herself. She was pretty, intelligent, and loyal, but so often she felt herself eclipsed by women whose voices were far louder than the depth of their person. Isobel could be shy and retiring, but when she blossomed, it was a delight to see.

“And she need have no worry in such matters. A red dress, a blue dress, it hardly matters, does it?” the duke replied.

Ernest smiled. It certainly did not matter to his father – he could see neither red nor blue. But to Isobel, appearances were important, and Ernest knew she would worry incessantly until the tea party was over. Footsteps now sounded in the corridor, and the door opened, revealing Isobel in a peacock blue dress. She looked at Ernest hesitantly.

“Is it all right?” she asked.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” the duke said, and Isobel blushed.

“Oh, Father…you’re so kind. I don’t think I do, but if you say so,” she said, glancing at Ernest, who smiled.

“Father’s right, Isobel. You look a picture. It’s a lovely dress. Weren’t you wearing it at the assembly rooms ball the other evening?” he asked.

At these words, Isobel’s eyes grew wide with fear.

“Oh, heavens, I was. They’ll all see. They’ll think I’ve got no other dresses but this one. I’ll have to change,” she exclaimed, but Ernest shook his head and folded his arms.

“No, Isobel. You’ll wear that one. It looks perfectly fine to me. You look perfectly fine – more so, you look beautiful,” Ernest said.

He was not about to allow his sister to think less of herself in the eyes of the ton. There was no reason for her to change her dress. No one would notice, and if they did, they should be ashamed of themselves. Isobel sighed.

“Oh, I wish I didn’t worry so much about everything. I just think…about what they’ll think,” she said, looking suddenly forlorn.

“Well, don’t think about it. Anyway, you’ve not got time to change again. It’s nearly two o’clock. Hadn’t you better be going?” Ernest asked, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.

Isobel shrieked, clutching her hands to her face.

“Oh, I’ll be late. But won’t you come with me, Ernest? I’d feel so much better if you did,” she said, her expression becoming imploring.

Ernest laughed.

“What? And sit around with a group of gossiping aristocratic women for the afternoon? I don’t think so. Besides, I’ve not been invited, and I’ve got work to do,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Most of them are unmarried, I think – just Lily and Anne, they’re the wives. The rest are spinsters,” Isobel said, as though this would somehow persuade Ernest to accompany her.

Ernest made a face. He certainly had no desire to accompany his sister on such an excursion. He had no intention of courting spinsters – the very thought of it horrified him. Ernest had given little thought to marriage. He enjoyed the company of women when it suited him, but always on his own terms, and he was not about to be the object of their interest over tea and scones.

“I don’t care what they are. I’m staying here. Now, you’d better go, or you’ll be late,” he said, and Isobel laughed.

“Very well. Send me into the lion’s den all alone. What do you think of that, Father? He’s hardly my knight in shining armor, is he?” she said, and the duke laughed.

“I think my daughter’s capable of taking care of herself. I hope you have a wonderful afternoon, my darling,” he said, raising his hand and waving across the drawing room.

Isobel smiled, nodding to Ernest, before leaving the room. He shook his head and laughed.

“I wish she’d gain some confidence, Father. What can we do to help her?” he asked, but the duke only shrugged.

“A woman needs to find her place, I suppose. I don’t know what we can do. Marry her off – that’s what lesser men would do. But I’m not prepared to do that. If she marries, I want it to be for love and nothing less. I won’t have my daughter living an unhappy life. I came too close to that myself. No, I want both my children to be happy. I’m proud of you both, Ernest,” the duke said, and Ernest smiled.

It had not always been thus, but it gladdened his heart to hear his father say as much. The duke had always tried to instill the values of hard work and determination into both of his children, and Ernest wanted to make him proud, knowing he would one day inherit his father’s title.

“That’s kind of you to say, Father,” Ernest replied, sitting down opposite his father, who now looked straight at him, even as his eyes were blank.

“You’ve done something quite remarkable in Manchester, Ernest. A school for blind children. It’s unheard of. I count myself lucky to have been born into wealth and privilege. My affliction was always something that could be managed. But to be born blind into poverty… I can only imagine how terrible that must be,” he said, shaking his head.

Ernest had seen such horrors for himself. In the slums of the cities, a blind child would be a burden, and too often they were sent to the poorhouse, or simply disappeared…Ernest had wanted to do something about it, and the idea of a school, with nurses and helpers, a place where blind children could live together and be educated, had been the solution. With his own inheritance from his grandfather, Ernest had set up a foundation, purchasing a disused house in the center of Manchester and setting about its transformation. He was forever attempting to raise money, and had secured the backing of many notable figures, many of whom were his father’s friends.

“And that’s what we’re trying to solve, Father. To get rid of such disadvantage and ensure every child has the help and support they need. As you say, it’s one thing to be born into privilege, but quite another to find oneself born blind into poverty,” Ernest replied.

He had seen many terrible sights – children abandoned or left to beg on the streets, families evicted from their homes, and mothers forced to choose between feeding themselves or seeing their children starve. There were times when it seemed overwhelming, even as Ernest had done all he could to alleviate the problems. He wanted to leave a legacy, and to make the world a better place for those, like his father, who through no fault of their own, were born blind.

“And that’s why I’m so proud of you, Ernest. You’ve done what others have failed to do. When I was a child, there was nothing for me – only the attentions of a nanny and my family. But that was only possible because of our privilege. And what I have now is part of that privilege, too. But it shows what can be done. Blindness need not be a barrier to a full and happy life. I think back over my own life… I’ve never allowed my affliction to hold me back, and those children deserve the same. It’s the work I should’ve done myself, but I’m proud to think of my son doing it in my place,” he said.

Ernest smiled. He was doing what he was doing because of his father. Had the duke been able to see, Ernest might not have given a second thought to the plight of the blind. But his childhood had been marked by the knowledge his father was different. There were those who had spoken cruelly – openly and behind his back – mocking the duke, and Ernest, too. But Ernest’s father had always taught him to turn the other cheek, and to see the prejudices of others as a fault in themselves and not in the ones they ridiculed.

“I just hope we can make a difference to the lives of the children, father. It’s such a monumental task, but…little by little, perhaps things will change, and blindness need not be such a heavy burden for a child to bear,” Ernest replied.

His father nodded.

“Your mother and I are immensely proud of you, Ernest. But I shouldn’t keep you from whatever tasks you have before you. Did you enjoy the ball at the assembly rooms the other night?” the duke asked, rising to his feet, and taking up his stick.

Ernest had given little thought to the ball, though he had been glad to secure several new backers for the school.

“Yes…it was a pleasant enough evening. I danced with one or two young ladies. They were nice enough. There was one in particular…oh, what was her name? Alicia, yes, that’s right – Alicia Saunders. Her father’s a wine merchant, I think. We danced a waltz together. It was very pleasant,” Ernest said, thinking back to his encounter with the merchant’s daughter.

She had been fascinated to learn more about the school, and Ernest had told her all about his plans for its future.

“Will you see her again?” the duke asked, tapping his stick across the drawing floor as he walked towards the door.

Ernest shook his head. He did not think Alicia would have any interest in him – not in anything more than a social manner, at least. Theirs had been a pleasant exchange, but as for anything more.

“I doubt it. I don’t even know if she resides permanently in the county. But she was very pleasant. I think Isobel knows her vaguely – she’s somehow connected to Anne and William. But then isn’t someone connected in aristocratic circles?” Ernest said, laughing, as his father reached the door.

The duke turned and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s very true. Well, I’m going to find your mother. She’s probably in the garden? Is it still raining? These spring showers can fall without warning,” Ernest’s father said.

Ernest glanced out of the window. He could see his mother in the rose garden, directing the pruning of a large trailing specimen clinging to one of the walls. The rain did not perturb her, and he smiled, watching as she gave orders like the captain of a ship.

“She’s out there, I can see her from here – but she’s in the middle of what looks like a delicate operation, Father,” he said, and the duke laughed.

“Never come between a woman and her roses – not a woman like your mother, anyway. Perhaps I’ll just have a glass of brandy in my study,” he said, and wishing Ernest a good day, he left the drawing room.

Ernest smiled, still watching his mother out of the window. She, like his father, was a remarkable character, and Ernest hoped he possessed, in himself, just a little of them both, even as he was now making his own way in the world.

I suppose I should do some work, he thought to himself.

But his father’s words about the ball had caused him to think back to the evening he had shared with his sister, and as he set about his work, he was surprised to find himself recalling his encounter with Alicia Saunders fondly, and with the hope he might see her again.

“ I don’t know why, she’ll hardly be interested in you, ” he told himself, shaking his head as he took up his quill to write another letter beginning money for the school.