Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hetty gazed out the drawing room window. There was a messenger approaching the front door, and she could see that he held several letters in his hand. Her heart started to pound in her chest, and she turned and ran out of the room to open the door herself before Milton, the butler, could get there.

The man looked surprised as she reefed the door open. He obviously wasn't used to being greeted by young ladies of the house. Before he could say anything, she took the letters, smiling vaguely. She had already forgotten about him by the time she closed the door, running back into the drawing room. She realised that her hands were shaking.

Quickly, she sorted through them. Two were for her father, but three of the letters were addressed to her. Her heartbeat quickened further. They were surely the first responses to the letters that she had sent out to various convents, last week, requesting information on their communities, and the process of joining their orders.

With trembling hands, she broke the seal on the first letter, sinking into a seat to read it through properly. This one was from the Sisters of the Blessed Virgin, who had a large convent in Surrey. In a neat hand, the letter outlined the order's chief work was tending the local poor community, and the steps to become a member of the order. It was signed by a woman called Mother Agnes.

The other two letters were equally informative; one was from the Sisters of St Cecilia, who had a convent in Essex, and the other from one further away, close to the Scottish border, in Northumbria. All three letters seemed enthusiastic about accepting her to their orders.

She set them down, her mind whirring. It was hard to make a decision about which one would be the best, but make a decision she must. However, she had promised her father that she would not act rashly. She had written to two other orders, and she should wait for their replies before she took it any further. In the meantime, she could pore over these letters at her leisure, to try to ascertain which seemed more suitable.

Her parents hadn't talked about it with her since she had made her announcement at luncheon that day. Perhaps they believed that if they left the topic alone, she would lose enthusiasm for the idea. But instead, the idea to join an order had grown in her mind and her heart. She was fervently convinced now that it was the only path for her.

Sometimes, she would get a twinge of misgiving. Once, she had thought about the fact that she would never become a mother, and her heart had twisted. But then, she had recovered herself. She couldn't become a mother now, anyway. It was best to put that desire firmly behind her. Besides, if she chose well, she might be able to work with children, which would satisfy her thwarted maternal instincts.

Another night, just as she had been drifting off to sleep, she had started awake, her heart pounding. She realised that she would die a maiden, that she would never know what it was like to be touched intimately by a man. But then, that concern had lessened, too, when she remembered the talk her mother had with her the night before her wedding day.

Mama had been red with embarrassment, but ploughed on, talking about doing her duty for her husband, and that it was often uncomfortable and awkward, but that it was just what a married lady had to do. And she would be rewarded at the end with a beautiful baby for her trouble.

Hetty sighed now, thinking about that conversation. Her mother had not intimated at all that there was any pleasure in the act for the lady. But sometimes, she awoke out of sleep, her heart racing, feeling a peculiar yearning for something she did not understand. Her body would be flushed and restless. Perhaps it was just dreaming; she really wasn't sure.

She hadn't even been kissed by a gentleman. Frank had always demurred, insisting that he respected her too much to compromise her in any manner. There had been no passion between them, and quite frankly, she was convinced now that the rumoured physical love that could exist between a man and a woman was just a myth. A story. Something that was invented by novelists and poets.

She carefully folded the letters. She was not going to miss out on anything by becoming a nun. The physical act, between a man and a woman, was for the man's pleasure alone. She had probably been saved a great trial by Frank's desertion. And better to remain chaste and celibate than risk her life lying in tatters again, at any rate. It wasn't as if she had any choice in that matter, regardless.

***

That afternoon, Hetty took Della for another long walk, past the apple tree, and into the next field. It was another glorious day; the sun was high in the sky, and there were fields of wild irises in the distance, wilting beneath the summer sun, the purple of their blooms seeming to melt before her vision. It was so very beautiful that she forgot everything, sprinting into the midst of it, her heart hammering.

Suddenly, she stopped. There would be no opportunity to do such things when she became a nun. That little voice at the back of her mind saying she would find no more freedom in a convent surged to life again. Convents were sticklers for order and routine. They demanded total conformity from their members. She could not walk at leisure through fields and run amongst the flowers with a veil upon her head and a wimple around her chin.

It would be a life of rigorous dedication, where everything about herself – the things that made her uniquely her – would be scrubbed away. Her heart clenched. Could she do it? Could she adhere to a life of such strict discipline? Yes, there would be safety there, but it would also be hard. So very hard.

She took a deep breath, trying to quieten the misgiving. She reminded herself that she had few options in life anymore. Either the life of a disgraced abandoned wife, forever living in her parental home or that of a nun. They were the only two choices available to her now. And better a life of work and service, where she might feel marginally fulfilled, than the alternative.

But the small, traitorous voice had stripped the afternoon of its glory. With a slightly dejected heart, she headed back towards the house. It would be afternoon teatime soon, anyway, and her mother was a stickler for it.

Hanging her bonnet on the hook at the back door, she was just washing her hands when Clarrie, the parlour maid, approached her, telling her that her parents were requesting her company in the drawing room.

Frowning, Hetty made her way there, wondering idly what was going on. Papa usually locked himself away in his study at afternoon teatime, and she and her mother liked to have it in the garden during good weather.

They were both sitting down, not speaking when she entered. And they both stood up formally, gazing at her expectantly.

She frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong?"

Her father hesitated. "Sit down, Hetty. Your mother and I wish to speak with you about an important matter." He paused. "The tea will be along presently."

She did as she was bid. It was only after the tea had been served, and they were all holding a cup, that her father spoke again.

"I saw that you received letters this morning," he said slowly. "Were they replies to the letters that you sent out last week?"

Hetty jumped in surprise. She had no idea that her father was even aware that she had sent the letters, nor that he was watching her when she had received replies this morning. But then, why shouldn't he be aware? The servants would tell him everything.

She nodded. "Yes, I received replies from three different orders." She paused. "They all seem eager to have me within their ranks. It is just a matter of choosing which one." She paused. "But I will wait for others to arrive. I promised you that I shall not act rashly."

Her father took a sip of tea, then sat down the cup on the side table, decisively. Hetty glanced at her mother. She was staring at the rug on the floor looking uncomfortable. Her heart shifted in her chest. Were they about to inform her that they had changed their mind and that she no longer had their blessing to join an order?

"That is good," said her father slowly. "I promised you, also that I would let you write the letters which I have. But there is something else that has come along in the meantime, which can change those plans, quite significantly."

Hetty gazed sharply at him. "What do you mean? What has come along?"

Her father smiled. "Hetty, there has been an offer put in for your hand in marriage." He paused. "A very good offer. An offer which makes me think you would be a foolish girl, indeed, not even to consider it."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "An offer of marriage?" Her voice rose high. "How can you say such a thing? I am obviously already married, Papa! You escorted me down the aisle towards my future husband. Have you forgotten?"

His nostrils flared slightly. "I am very well aware of that, Hetty. Please, remember to show respect."

Hetty coloured. "I am sorry, Papa. But I am so very confused …"

"Yes, of course you are," he said. "And to be frank, I was astounded when the gentleman approached me. We had a long talk, where I told him that you are legally wed, although you have been deserted. Any offer of marriage was conditional on being able to free you of the marriage to Frank Blackmore." He paused. "He accepted those terms. In fact, his eagerness to marry you is such that he is prepared to wait for you."

Hetty gasped, her head spinning. She simply could not believe what her father was telling her.

"Who is this gentleman?" she breathed.

Her father took a deep breath. "He is Louis Montague, the Duke of Warwick." He stopped, letting his words sink in.

Hetty felt even more confused . A duke? A duke wanted to marry her ? She was disgraced. It made no sense whatsoever.

She had never heard of the Duke of Warwick, whoever he was. At least, she didn't think that she had ever heard of him. The name did not sound familiar to her at all. Why on earth would a grand duke, who could marry any lady that he liked, seek her out, and put in an offer of marriage, knowing that she was not free to marry?

"I still do not understand," she said eventually, shaking her head. "Papa, did you seek him out, in some way? How could he even have known about what has happened and that my husband deserted me?"

"He heard the rumours," replied her father, staring at her steadily. "You must realise that this could not be contained indefinitely, Hetty. Your mother and I have avoided most social situations, so as not to be forced to talk about it, but the wider community do know. Frank Blackmore's family know, and we cannot control who they speak to about it."

Hetty's flush deepened. Of course, she should have known that. She did know it. But she had not wanted to think about it. To think that her personal life was being bandied about the community, that the scandal was spreading. She had wanted to put her head into the sand and ignore it entirely. But it was part of the reason that she wanted to join a convent so fiercely – she knew that it could not be contained forever. She wanted to run ahead of it before it engulfed her entirely.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why does this gentleman want to marry me?"

Her father smiled slightly. "He claims that he has met you, Hetty, and was charmed by you," he said slowly. "Unfortunately, he was not in a position to offer for your hand, previous to your engagement. But now that your …. Circumstances … have changed, he wanted to put in the offer immediately."

Hetty was dumbfounded again. She racked her mind, trying to remember if she had ever met the gentleman. She would have thought she would recall quite clearly if she had been introduced to a duke. But once more, she came up with nothing.

"It is a great honour," said her father, looking pleased. "A great honour, indeed. And a far cry above the life of servitude which would await you at a nunnery. You would have prestige and honour above anything that you could imagine, Hetty. Just think."

"Is that what this is all about?" she said quickly. "Restoring my reputation? You are embarrassed by me, I know …"

Her father sighed heavily. "Hetty, you know that would never be my primary concern. Your welfare is far more important." He paused. "But we may be able to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. We can contain the scandal, through a new engagement, and increase your status at the same time. We could douse the scandal when it is still an ember before it flares into a fire …"

She felt a chill fall through her. He wanted to place her in the hands of another man. A man that he knew nothing about. A man who could do the same thing to her that Frank Blackmore had done. A man who even if he did not do that, might treat her badly in other ways.

She could not endure it. She could not endure any further pain at the hands of a man.

"No," she said, shaking her head vigorously, as a surge of panic overtook her. "No, I cannot do it. You cannot ask it of me, after what was done to me …"

"Hetty, listen," said her father sharply. "His Grace is not Frank Blackmore. He is a peer of the realm, well respected, with a vast estate just over the county border, in Hampshire. If you agree to marry him, you will be well protected, wealthy, and have status above your wildest dreams. You would sacrifice that, to go to a convent, to take on a life that I know you do not truly want?"

"You do not know anything about what I want!" she cried, feeling as if her heart was about to break in two, once again. "I trusted Frank Blackmore. I thought that I would be married until the day that I die. And he lied to me." Her eyes were wild. "He lied to me the whole time that we were engaged. He discarded me like refuse. He never cared about me. All that he wanted was my money. And you expect that I would smile delightedly, at the thought of being handed over to another man, who I know even less about than I did my husband?"

"You cannot think that every man is like your rake of a husband, Hetty," said her mother, looking stricken. "Not all are untrustworthy. Most are honourable, my daughter. And with this marriage, you could redeem your reputation! You could become the wife and mother that you always wanted to be!"

"I no longer want those things, Mama," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I have spent the past weeks since my desertion, dealing with the fact that I will never have them. I am resigned to the fact that I shall never be a wife and mother. And now you wish to turn it all around, in an instant, and think that I should be grateful?"

There was silence in the room. And then, her father sighed. "His Grace is here now, Hetty. He arrived while you were on your walk. He is waiting in my study to speak to you."

Hetty felt her mind begin to reel again. In the space of fifteen minutes, they had told her that this gentleman wanted to marry her and that they wanted her to consider it seriously. That was shocking enough. But now, they were telling her that the gentleman himself was in their home and had been here the whole time.

But before she could open her mouth to say that she would not see him, there was a noise at the doorway.

They all turned around, shocked. A man was standing there. A tall man with dark hair and flashing green eyes.

"Please excuse me," he said slowly. "I hope that I have not startled you."