22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“ Y ou’ve been behaving very strangely these past few days, Ernest. What’s wrong? Did something happen over dinner with Caroline and her father?” Isobel asked.

Ernest looked up, realizing he had been staring at a plate of sausages and eggs for several moments, his expression vacant, his mind elsewhere.

“What? Oh…no, it’s nothing. I was just… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he said.

“Well, you’ll have to put whatever it is out of your mind. Aren’t you visiting the orphanage today? And then there’s Caroline’s ball. We’ve all been invited. I don’t know why. But it would be churlish not to go. It won’t be easy for father, though,” Isobel continued.

Ernest nodded. It had been decided – by Caroline – to make the announcement of their engagement at a grand ball, rather than in the society pages. She wanted to see the looks on the faces of the guests – or so she had said – and Ernest had had no choice but to agree. He had agreed to everything, knowing Caroline and her father had him in their power. The offer of Covinghold had been a generous and unexpected one, designed only to further strengthen the viscount’s position. How could Ernest refuse a solution to all his problems?

“No, it won’t be,” Ernest replied, for he knew what would happen when his father discovered the engagement.

The duke had never taken a liking to Caroline, and as for her father, he had no time for the viscount or his dealings with men who saw business opportunities in the wicked dealings of the plantations. When he discovered the betrothal, he was bound to be angry…

“Well…let her have her ball. She’s just posturing, I’m sure,” Isobel replied.

Ernest pushed his plate aside. He was no longer hungry, his mind preoccupied by thoughts of what he had done – not only to himself, but to Alicia. She, too, would be invited to the ball, and forced to endure the announcement of the betrothal. He imagined her in floods of tears, or stoic in her sorrows. The afternoon they had spent together by the river had convinced Ernest of his feelings for Alicia, even as he knew those feelings could never be acted on.

“I’m sure, yes…but…I need to go, Isobel. I’m due at the orphanage by noon, and it’s quite a ride across the moor,” Ernest said.

His visit to the orphanage would be a welcome distraction. There was no danger of his being followed by Caroline, and Ernest intended to spend the day there, hoping to do what he could to help those in need – particularly the blind children. It was Ernest’s intention to make the school a model of good practice, and perhaps even admit sighted children to live alongside their unsighted peers.

“Will you be back for dinner? Be careful – it looks like rain,” Isobel replied, glancing out of the window.

The pleasant summer days of the past week had ended, and the sky was gray with low hanging clouds. Ernest had his horse saddled, and rode out at a gallop across the parkland, crossing a bridge over the river, where his own estate ended, and the great expanse of moorland began. It stretched as far as the eye could see – a rolling landscape of heathers and gorse, beneath a vast expanse of sky. Ernest liked to ride there – it felt freeing, as though he could ride forever, and never turn back.

If only I could, he thought to himself, sighing at the knowledge of what he had agreed to.

The betrothal was set. The announcement would be made at the ball, and there was nothing – short of ruining everything he had worked so hard to achieve – Ernest could do about it. Over the previous few days, he had resigned himself to his unhappy fate, reminding himself he would still have other distractions, other entertainments, other reasons to find happiness. But in his heart, he had given up that which he knew would make him truly happy – the possibility of marriage to a woman he loved.

“And I do love her,” Ernest said to himself.

He could see the orphanage across the moor, approached by a winding track climbing steeply to the hill on top of which the house was perched. It had once been a leper hospital, run by an order of Benedictines, before falling into disrepair at the reformation, when its monks had been forced to flee. Later, the buildings had been used as a farm, before being repurposed as an orphanage, run by the church. The children were taught the rudiments of reading and writing and worked at sack making and gardening. It was a grim place, miserable to look at, and even more so to visit. But Ernest had made it his business to do so, for he knew there were several blind children housed there, and he hoped to do what he could to help them.

“Good day to you,” he called out, approaching the orphanage along the track, and encountering a woman supervising a group of children tending to vegetable patches at the front of what was now the main house.

She looked up at Ernest in surprise. He recognized her from his last visit – the matron, Mrs. Dumbell, a rotund woman with a red face, wearing a white smock and apron, and with a cloth cap over her head.

“My Lord? You’re the second visitor today,” she said, and Ernest looked at her in surprise.

The orphanage was remote, and visitors were rare. For a moment, he feared Caroline had come to interfere, but the woman now pointed towards a horse and trap, parked outside the stable, where one of the children was feeding the animal from a pail of oats. He knew it did not belong to Caroline, even as he was curious to know who it did belong to.

“A visitor?” he asked, and the woman nodded.

“Yes, my Lord. Miss Alicia Saunders. She’s inside with the governor. She’s very keen to help. She’s promised to bring clothes for the children on her next visit,” the matron replied.

Ernest’s heart skipped a beat. He had hoped not to encounter Alicia before the ball. He was embarrassed at the thought of seeing her, knowing the things they had shared, and the feelings they held for one another. For a moment, he thought about turning around and riding away, but that would be churlish, and dismounting his horse, he thanked the woman and led the animal to the stable.

“I’ll look after him, my Lord,” the boy with the pail of oats said, and tethering the horse to a post, Ernest made his way to the door of the main house, nervous as to the encounter he was about to have.

The door was opened by one of the children, and Ernest was ushered inside, where a strong smell of wood polish and carbolic soap hung in the air. A large hallway, with doors opening off on either side framed a wide staircase leading up to a landing above, and from a distant room, the sounds of children could be heard. It was noon, and they would be eating their midday meal. The child went off to inform the governor of Ernest’s arrival, and he stood waiting in the hallway, examining the paintings of past governors, all of whom peered sternly down from the walls.

“Now, I really think we could organize things so as to have a new blanket for every child. It doesn’t take long to make a blanket, and if I had say…twenty women engaged in making them, we’d soon be done,” a voice from the landing above said, and looking up, Ernest saw Alicia, talking to a woman he knew to be the governor’s wife.

Alicia did not immediately see him, and he stepped back, wondering if perhaps he could avoid her entirely. But the governor’s wife now saw him and called out a greeting from the top of the stairs.

“Good day to you, my Lord. How honored we are to receive two such kind visitors in a day,” she said.

Alicia looked up, and her eyes met those of Ernest, who blushed.

“Good day, Mrs. Scott, good day, Alicia,” he said.

There was a look of pitiful sorrow in Alicia’s eyes, and Ernest had no doubt as to her knowing Caroline’s intentions. Had she cried over it? Was she terribly upset? He wished things were different, even as he knew they could not bed. Alicia looked very pretty that day, dressed in a simple linen dress, her hair tied back, and a shawl around her shoulders. He could not help but admire her – he already did admire her. But she had given herself over so readily to helping others, and here was but another example of her doing so.

“Miss Saunders came to discuss blankets for the children, and clothes, too,” the governor’s wife said.

“That’s very kind of you, Alicia. I’ve come to see about the possibility of our taking any of the blind children here in the new school. We’ve been offered Covinghold by the Viscount Pickering. It means we can take more children – and have somewhere for them to stay, too,” Ernest said.

The governor’s wife clapped her hands together in delight.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, my Lord. My husband will be so pleased,” she said.

But Ernest’s gaze was still on Alicia, his thoughts turned to those things they had shared by the riverbank, wondering what she was thinking…what she was feeling.

“It’s a generous offer,” Alicia said, following the governor’s wife down the stairs.

“I was going to mention it next time I saw you. We’ve both been so busy,” Ernest said, his heart skipping a beat, as Alicia came to stand next to him in the hallway.

“I’ll go and find my husband. He’ll be with the children in the dining room,” the governor’s wife said, hurrying off, and leaving Ernest and Alicia alone.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Ernest said, turning to Alicia, who blushed.

“Well… I wanted to come and see what I could do to help. I thought perhaps we…well…you and Caroline…” Alicia said, her words trailing off.

“Alicia, about Caroline…she and I…” he stammered, and Alicia nodded.

“I know…well, I don’t know for certain. But I think I know – you’re betrothed, aren’t you? That’s the reason for the ball. You’re going to announce it. I saw Caroline at the modiste’s yesterday. She made it clear, though she didn’t say as much,” Alicia replied.

Ernest sighed. He had known Alicia would discover the truth, even as he had dreaded her doing so. He nodded, shaking his head, as Alicia placed her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, Alicia. I didn’t…well…when the Viscount offered me Covinghold, how could I refuse?” he said.

She gave a weak smile, still with her hand on his arm.

“You couldn’t. We both know the building in Lancaster isn’t suitable. There’s nothing you could’ve done but accept the offer,” Alicia replied.

Ernest nodded, even as it pained him to admit it. She, too, was willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the children, and for that, he could only admire her, as much as it broke his heart to do so.

“I know, but…I didn’t want it to be like this. Caroline…she…” he said, failing to find the words he needed.

Alicia squeezed his arm.

“I know… I know what she’s like. I’m sorry it had to come to this,” she said, and Ernest smiled weakly.

“Well…it’s not for nothing, is it? The school, the orphans…we can help a great deal of people,” he said.

He said “we” because it seemed Alicia, too, was making a sacrifice. They both were – the sacrifice of their happiness. Both of them knew it, and both of them knew there was nothing they could do to change the sad circumstances they found themselves in. Before Alicia could reply, a heart greeting sounded along the hallway, and the figure of the governor – a large, rotund man with a face redolent of a rolled ham, appeared.

“My Lord, what an honor – two distinguished visitors in one day,” he said.

“That’s just what I said, Albert – we’re truly blessed. As are the children,” his wife said.

Ernest held out his hand to the governor, the two men exchanging greetings, before Ernest enquired as to the object of his journey.

“The blind children would be welcome at the school. We want to take as many as we can,” Ernest said, as the governor led him and Alicia into his office.

“Goodness, it’s grown dark, hasn’t it, Shirley – quickly, light the lamps,” the governor said.

Black clouds had gathered outside, and rain was threatening, the first drops now falling against the windows.

“How many of the children here are blind? What special provisions do you make for them?” Ernest asked, as the governor ushered him and Alicia to chairs by the hearth.

The governor and his wife glanced at one another.

“I think we have a few here…they manage well enough, but we’d be grateful for whatever help you could give us,” he said.

Ernest had suspected as much. It had been the same story in Manchester – blind children were often overlooked and uncounted. There was little by way of provision for them, and too often, they fell behind, lacking in proper opportunities for development, before finding themselves abandoned when the provision of an orphanage came to an end. The poorhouses were filled with blind men and women, unable to work, and lacking the necessary skills to find it.

“Blind children need particular care and attention. It’s not easy in an orphanage,” Ernest continued.

“No, not at all, my Lord. We try our best, you understand,” the governor’s wife said.

The rain was now lashing against the windows, and Alicia looked anxiously out to where the track leading across the moor was turning into a quagmire.

“I think I should be going, Governor – it’s treacherous as it is on the moor path, let alone with such terrible weather,” she said, rising to her feet.

Ernest, too, rose from his chair. He had heard enough, and intended to return as soon as Covinghold could be made ready to receive its first pupils. He would not allow the blind orphans to fall behind with their studies. To be without parents was a tragedy, but to be without sight was worse.

“Thank you, Mr. Scott, Mrs. Scott. I should be going, too. The weather looks quite set in, and it’s quite a ride back to Leamington Grange. Good day to you both,” Ernest said.

He had wanted to stay longer, but the turn in the weather necessitated haste, and he and Alicia now hurried out to their horses. The rain was lashing down, blown across the moor in sheets, and they immediately soaked to the skin, as Alicia tried to coax her horse forward.

“Come along, Starlight, we’ve got to go,” she exclaimed, but the horse would not move.

Ernest’s own mount was proving equally stubborn, and the more he pulled at the reins, the more the horse stubbornly refused to move, backing into the stable, as Ernest was now soaked to the skin. They were both bedraggled – just as they had been after wading in the river – and now Alicia, stepped back, turning to make for the nearest outhouse, as Ernest followed.

“We could go back inside?” Ernest said, as Alicia closed the door of what turned out to be a hen house behind them.

“It’s dry here. I’m not going anywhere,” she exclaimed, sitting down in the straw with a sigh.

Ernest smiled at her. She was soaked, and so was he.

“We should stop finding ourselves like this,” he said, and Alicia laughed.

“Soaked to the skin, you mean? But there’s no sun to dry us off this time. At least we’re out of the worst of it,” she said, as a hen peered inquisitively at them and clucked.

Ernest sat down in the straw next to her. The rain was battering the roof, and the wind whistled across the moor. The storm had come suddenly, and there was no telling how long it would last.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here today, Alicia. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known,” Ernest said.

Alicia looked at him curiously.

“Why not? Won’t Caroline allow it?” she asked.

There was a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Ernest knew he was being foolish – there was no reason for the two of them not to be alone, even as Ernest knew Caroline would not approve.

“It’s not that… I don’t care what she thinks,” he replied, and Alicia laughed.

“Nonsense. You do care what she thinks. You have to. We both do. But that doesn’t mean we’re happy about it, does it,” she said, her expression turning sorrowful, as now she looked at him mournfully.

“I’m not happy at all,” Ernest admitted.

He was sinking ever more into a terrible depression, the future stretching out before him, devoid of any joy or pleasure. Marriage to Caroline would be nothing but an endurance, and Ernest feared he would come to resent the very thing he was working so hard to achieve – the school and all it represented.

“I know that – who would be?” Alicia replied, and Ernest laughed.

“Perhaps she has some redeeming qualities…oh, I shouldn’t speak like this,” he said, but Alicia put her hand on his, the hens clucking around them, pegging on the flagstone floor.

“But I understand. I know what she’s like. She exerts the same control over me, too. We’re both her puppets, and we’ve both allowed ourselves to be,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

A shiver ran through Ernest at Alicia’s touch. He looked up at her, gazing into her deep brown eyes. How different she was to Caroline. She represented everything he had ever desired, and yet so many barriers had been placed between them, his own, and those of others. But here, trapped by the storm, there was nothing to hold them back, and with their hands clasped, their lips met in a kiss…