21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

E rnest was late. Not spectacularly so, but late enough to know Caroline would be growing agitated. It was a deliberate ploy on his part – an attempt to gain some control over a situation he now found to be out of control.

“Drive around once more, then up the drive,” he called out, leaning from the carriage window.

The driver looked bemused, but did as he was told, and it was not until a good twenty minutes after he was expected they drew up outside the home of Caroline and her father. The house – Pickering Lodge – was a handsome dwelling, built in redbrick, with gables and ivy growing up the walls. Caroline was waiting on the steps, and she tutted, as Ernest climbed down from the carriage.

“Where have you been? You’re nearly half an hour late,” she exclaimed, and Ernest mumbled an excuse about the mud and the wheel spokes – despite there having been little rain for over a week.

“I got here as quickly as I could,” Ernest replied, as she ushered him into the house.

Ernest had never liked Pickering Lodge. It was an homage to the viscount’s unpleasant liking for blood sports, and the walls were covered in the taxidermied heads of those fortunate creatures who had met their end at his hands. Caroline led Ernest into the drawing room, where the viscount was waiting to receive him, posed in front of a portrait of himself standing victoriously over the carcass of a bear.

“Ah, Ernest, you’ve made it,” he said, as Ernest held out his hand.

“I’m sorry for the delay, we were bogged down in the mud,” he said, but the viscount waved his hand dismissively.

“Not to worry, you’re here now. Will you have a drink?” he said, beckoning to a footman at the side of the room, who brought forward a tray with sherry glasses.

Ernest disliked sherry – sweet or dry – but was given no other choice but to take a glass and raise it in a toast. The viscount did the same. He was an elderly man, his graying hair protruding from beneath a gray wig, his face lined with wrinkles, and most of his teeth missing. Caroline stood at his side, ever the dutiful daughter, waiting expectantly…

“It’s good of you to invite me,” Ernest said, and the viscount smiled.

“We’ve got a lot to discuss, Ernest – the school, the betrothal, the future,” he said.

He spoke as though these matters were all of equal importance – and equal resolution. Ernest drew in a sharp intake of breath, spluttering into his sherry, as he glanced at Caroline, who smiled.

“Yes, we must announce things soon, mustn’t we? Oh, but there’s the gong – I couldn’t delay dinner any further,” she said, as Ernest put down his glass on the footman’s tray and Caroline took him by the arm.

The dining room was also a shrine to the spoils of the hunt, and above the dining table hung the head of a magnificent stag, its antlers almost touching the ceiling. They sat down to eat, and when the soup course had been cleared, and more wine poured, the viscount turned to Ernest and cleared his throat.

“Now, I’ve been thinking about the building to house the school. The one you’ve chosen is all very well, but it seems to me – if you’re really to make a difference – a residential setting, a collegiate arrangement, if you like – would be more fitting. I want to offer you Covinghold for the school. It’s ideal,” the viscount said.

Covinghold was the viscount’s second residence in the district, a house just outside Lancaster, along the river, not far from where Ernest and Alicia had rescued Thomas and Ernie. It was a handsome house and would make a perfect school. There had been problems with the building selected in the center of Lancaster, and the building work was dragging on. The offer of Covinghold would solve all of Ernest’s problems, even as he felt certain it would come at a cost…

“That’s…very kind of you, sir,” Ernest said, but the viscount shook his head.

“Not at all. If one can’t offer one’s future son-in-law such a thing, who can one offer it to?” he said.

Ernest glanced at Caroline. She was beaming, and now she put her hand on his.

“Oh, Ernest. Let’s announce it – the betrothal, I mean. Why wait?” she said, and her father nodded.

“Yes, I think the same, Ernest. I know you’ve been seen together – it’s the talk of the ton. But such talk mustn’t become scandalous. We must make our intentions clear. An announcement in one of the presses or periodicals would do - The Lancaster Observer or The Northern Call, but certainly not that dreadful Broker Press . I can put it in myself tomorrow,” the viscount said.

Ernest knew he was trapped. How could he refuse? Caroline and her father had maneuvered him into a corner. He was not even expected to be the one to propose. It was merely an arrangement, one Caroline had enacted masterfully. This was the final move, and Ernest knew he had no choice but to agree…

“Oh, how wonderful! Don’t you think so, Ernest? Everyone knows, of course, but this makes it official,” she said, still with her hand on Ernest’s arm.

He nodded, not knowing what to say or do. To refuse would mean the end of the schools, the end to everything he had worked so hard to build, but to accept would mean a life of unhappiness in the company of Caroline.

“I…yes, an announcement in the press. I’m sure everyone already knows, as you say,” he replied, knowing there could be no turning back…

***

“ O h, is that an invitation, Alicia?” her mother asked, peering over her shoulder at breakfast.

It was an invitation – a most unexpected invitation – and Alicia had opened it with surprise. It was from Caroline Pickering, inviting her to a ball at her father’s house, Pickering Lodge. There was to be dancing and refreshments, and Caroline had added a short note at the bottom of the card.

“You will be my honored guest, won’t you, Alicia?” she had written.

Alicia did not know the reason for the ball – other than to increase Caroline’s social standing – but she knew it would be churlish not to accept the invitation, even as she felt certain it had an underlying motive.

“Yes, to Caroline Pickering’s ball, mother. You and father are invited, too, though he’ll still be away on Monday. Will you come?” Alicia asked, and her mother nodded.

“I certainly will. I must say, Alicia, the prospect of a ball makes quite a difference from your usual obsessions,” Alicia’s mother said.

The day before, Alicia had hosted the soup kitchen, and clothes had been distributed to the poor. Caroline had not appeared, and neither had Ernest – much to Alicia’s surprise. But the poor had been grateful, and many of them had thanked Alicia personally for what she had done. She had returned home exhausted, her dress dirty, but happy in the knowledge of all those she had helped. She knew her mother did not approve of her charitable activities, but Alicia was determined to make a difference, and given the numbers at the soup kitchen, the need was certain.

“I’m going to visit the orphanage,” Alicia replied, taking a sip of coffee, as her mother looked aghast.

“Oh, Alicia, no…are we to move into a hovel? Are we to become poor for their sake?” she exclaimed.

Alicia smiled. Her mother was forever worrying as to the effect Alicia’s charity work was having on her.

“No, Mother. But I want to see for myself how the orphans live. Perhaps there’re ways of helping them, too,” Alicia replied, and her mother rolled her eyes.

“Well…no…today, I won’t hear of it. Today we’re going to the modiste’s. You’re going to have a new dress for the ball. For one day, Alicia – you’re going to be a lady,” her mother said, fixing Alicia with a firm expression.

Alicia smiled. She did not mind being a lady – she was a lady – and there was no reason why she should not both visit the modiste and the orphanage. After breakfast, she and her mother set off in a carriage, arriving at Miss Anderson’s shop, just as the town hall clock was striking ten.

“Something in red, perhaps…or mauve. Yes, mauve, I think,” Alicia’s mother said, as they climbed down from the carriage.

It was a beautiful day, and the streets of Lancaster were filled with people bustling about their business. As they walked up the steps to the modiste, Alicia felt a tug at her dress, and turning, she recognized one of the children – one of the eight children belonged to the woman from the soup kitchen she had befriended. Her mother looked aghast at the urchin, who was not wearing any shoes, and whose face was filthy.

“Oh, Alicia…” she exclaimed, holding her gloved hand up to her nose.

“Mother says thank you for the money you sent, Miss Saunder, and God bless you,” the boy said.

Alicia smiled.

“Thank you, Timothy, and God bless you, too. Now, let me see…here’s a shilling for you. I want you to go to the bakers, and buy cakes and delicious treats for all your brothers and sisters. Tell your mother I insisted on it. And when I visit you next week, I’ll bring you some shoes,” she said, handing the shilling to the boy, who stared at it in astonishment.

“Thank you, Miss Saunders,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Alicia smiled, watching as he ran off, before turning to her mother, who raised her eyebrows.

“You really do want to help them, don’t you, Alicia?” she said, and Alicia nodded.

“I do, Mother, and I believe I can,” she replied.

The bell above the door jangled as they entered Miss Anderson’s modiste shop. The proprietress looked up from the counter, hurrying to greet them, even as she looked somewhat uncertain.

“I don’t have any off cuts for you today, Miss Saunders,” but Alicia shook her head.

“No, Miss Anderson, it’s a dress we want,” she said, glancing at her mother, who nodded.

“Yes, something in mauve, I think,” she said.

But at that moment, a call came from the back of the shop, and Alicia’s heart sank.

“I’ve finished, Miss Anderson. I don’t think any of them are suitable,” Caroline Pickering called out.

Alicia sighed. She had been hoping to avoid Caroline – until the ball, at least – but now she appeared from the dressing rooms, dressed in a gaudy outfit of red lace and taffeta. At the sight of Alicia, she gave an exclamation of delight, even as Miss Anderson fussed around her.

“Good morning, Caroline,” Alicia said, as Caroline clapped her hands together.

“Oh, Alicia…don’t tell me…you’re here to buy a dress for my ball. How wonderful. I’m so pleased you’re coming. It’s going to be wonderful,” she exclaimed, and Alicia nodded.

“It was very kind of you to invite me,” she said, and Caroline beamed at her.

“Well…I’ll let you in on a little secret, Alicia – there’s going to be an announcement,” she said, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look.

Alicia was confused, though a sudden fear now gripped her, a realization as to what Caroline could be referring to.

“An announcement?” she asked, and Caroline nodded.

“Yes…it’s something wonderful, I assure you. You’ll be delighted for us. It was going to be in the periodicals, but I persuaded my father otherwise,” she said.

Alicia nodded. She knew what Caroline was referring to, and now she realized, too, why she had not seen or heard from Ernest in the previous days. Her heart sank, even as her mother turned from examining the dresses on the rails around the shop.

“This one, Alicia – in mauve. It’s lovely, don’t you think?” she said, and Alicia glanced at it.

But her mind was now filled with the possibility of what Caroline was saying. She knew just what she was doing – taunting Alicia with the victory she believed herself to have won. The ball was to be an announcement – the announcement of the betrothal of Caroline and Ernest. Alicia knew it, and it was all she could do to fight back the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yes…very nice,” she replied.

Caroline was still beaming at her.

“Oh, I think you’ll look very pretty in mauve, Alicia. I just can’t decide what color to wear. I’m sure I will, though. But I should be getting on. There’s so much to think about. Oh…whilst I remember, did all go well with the soup kitchen yesterday? I’m sorry I wasn’t there – Ernest and I had a meeting. But I’m sure you managed admirably,” she said.

Alicia nodded.

“It was…the same as last time,” she said, and Caroline sighed.

“To see the suffering…it breaks one’s heart,” she said, shaking her head.

But Alicia was not listening. She could think only of Ernest and the sacrifice he had made. Had Caroline issued an ultimatum? Was this the result of his having been forced to make a choice? She was dreading the ball – the look on Ernest’s face when the announcement was made. Would he pretend everything was all right? Would he claim to be happy? It made Alicia feel terribly sad, even as she knew she had no right to be so. This was Ernest’s choice, and if he had decided on the matter, so be it.

“I’m sure it does, Caroline,” Alicia replied.

Miss Anderson cleared her throat.

“Shall we proceed, ladies?” she said, and Caroline nodded.

“Certainly…won’t you forgive me, Miss Anderson? I think I’ve seen everything I want to,” Caroline said, still smiling at Alicia, who could feel nothing but sorrow at what had passed and what was now lost.