Chapter 5

Chapter Five

C aroline let out a struggled breath and put a delicate hand to her brow, being mindful of any perspiration that had gathered since her departure. She was going out on business, so she needed to stay focused and maintain a flawless appearance. She could not support an ounce of distraction. Especially not from him .

What the devil was Robert doing, just standing out on the road in front of Longford Manor? She didn’t know how she should have reacted to the situation, so she just remained still and silent, feeling like the greatest fool. But it wasn’t as if she could stop the carriage to have a conversation with him. Not that he would wish to speak with her anyway.

She swallowed the uncertainty and shook her head, returning to the task at hand. She held the list of names she had prepared to remind her of their intended stops. She hadn’t heard back yet from the solicitor, so she could not send invitations for a dinner party just yet, but she could make visits and leave calling cards to reinstate any worthwhile connections. Caroline could only remember a few of the noble and wealthy in the village and filled in the rest with the help of Mrs. Park. It resulted in an exclusive group of only twelve names that she felt would be the perfect amount for a quiet, lavish Christmas dinner. Once the solicitor had approved of her plan, she would send the invitations, which only required limited funds for the dinner, and then she would be on her way.

After reviewing the list again, she realized one house she expected to see was absent, and her curiosity surged. Who lived in her old house?

Caroline leaned forward in the bumpy carriage, taking in the familiar woods and paths around her. They could make a quick detour before the rest of her visits. She rapped on the top of the carriage and called to the driver, “Take me to Edgewood Estate.”

The sudden shift in direction heightened her enthusiasm and she left the morning distraction behind. The sight of Robert had been shouting in the back of her mind, but she had other business to focus on.

The carriage pulled her down a long road that took her through the village, her first time seeing Hamstead in years. And as she had expected, next to nothing had changed. Everything looked exactly the same as it did in her childhood memories. The same tattered shops, the same poorly dressed habitants, the same stone well at the center of it all. Perhaps the only difference was that everything seemed smaller now, so perhaps it was only that she herself had changed. Or was she the same? It was difficult to know.

After passing over the old bridge on the other side of the village, the carriage stopped, and through the black iron gate, Edgewood Estate came into view. Caroline squared her shoulders, ready to suppress any unpleasant emotions that might surface.

“Who lives here?” she asked the footman at her door. “Is the property vacant?”

“No, mum,” the young man replied. “A nobleman lives here, though inconsistently throughout the year, so he might not be at home. It’s the Duke of Rothes, I believe.”

“Indeed?” Caroline’s eyebrows shot up. She had met him before in London, a connection of her late husband.

“Yes, mum. From what I recall, he is a grumpy old miser who has a servant pushing him around in his wheeled chair. And he never accepted your aunt’s invitations before.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll advise you to hold your tongue, young man. Not only is the Duke of Rothes a nobleman, but he is not old or a miser. And if he is grumpy, then he has reason. His bath chair does not appear to be a comfortable burden to bear, don’t you agree? Unless you’d prefer to test such a thing for yourself?”

The footman hung his head. “No, mum.”

She reached for the calling cards in her pocket. “Take my card and leave it for the duke. I’m an acquaintance from London, should the doorman ask.”

However, she could not miss the look of concern from the footman as he hesitated. “Why do you frown so?”

“Forgive me, it is only… the duke is unmarried. As are you,” he said, stumbling nervously over his words. “Would it not be improper to visit alone with him?”

Caroline huffed with impatience. “But I am a widow, and therefore I have more freedom than some simpering unmarried miss.” She gave him a glare. “What is your name?”

“Augustus, mum.”

“My aunt might have accepted your loose tongue, Augustus, but it will not be tolerated with me. I expect my servants and staff to keep quiet and do as they’re told.”

Again, he hung his head in submission. “Yes, mum.” Then he hurried off to deliver the card.

It left her a moment of solitude to admire the house and the grounds. The long drive up appeared as it ever did, well-kept and maintained, and it made Caroline wonder how many she knew still working inside. Were the halls and rooms different from when she was a child, growing up in that large, dreary estate? Her father had always kept the house dark and cold, unwilling to spend anything additional on heating. Darkness was cheap, which is just how he liked it. Now the drapes inside the windows were drawn closed, and colored a dark black now, contrasting harshly against the light stone of the house. What else had the duke changed since taking possession?

The footman returned much quicker than she had expected. “His Grace was not at home, but the staff informed me that he is to return before Christmas. I left the card with the butler.”

“Very well. Come along, we have more to do.”

On they went through the morning and afternoon, delivering calling cards and visiting with those who would let her in. Some of these family names were acquaintances and some she did not know at all, so it was expected that not everyone would want to see her. But those who knew of her family name, of the wealth she possessed, of what she was set to inherit, eagerly welcomed the visit of a continued connection.

When she came to the last on the list, Caroline sighed. It was debatable, one she wasn’t sure about including. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig had wealth beyond measure, perhaps more than Caroline herself, but they were in trade, which was deemed beneath her status in desirability of connection. And though they had been looked down on by her father, Caroline remembered that Mrs. Fezziwig had always been kind to them regardless. Such a connection would not be continued to London, so perhaps it would be worth keeping in Hamstead.

Caroline stepped out in front of the Fezziwig’s house, not sure if they were still alive or still resided there, but she had attended dinner parties in this house before, so she would at least attempt.

Making her way up the long path, a cold wind blew past Caroline, reminding her of the oncoming winter season. November’s autumn would soon give way to December’s chill, and then ultimately Christmastime. There were only a few short weeks for her to accomplish her needs before she could return to London.

She knocked on the door and waited only a breath before it was opened. The butler stood there and greeted her.

“Good day. Is Mrs. Fezziwig at home?” Caroline asked.

“Please come in from the cold, and I will inquire on your behalf,” the butler responded, opening the door further for her. “Who may I ask is come to call?”

“Thank you,” Caroline said, stepping inside. “Mrs. Caroline Marley.”

“Very well. Allow me to—”

“Mrs. Marley!” The woman’s voice boomed and echoed in the entryway, making Caroline duck her head in surprise.

Glancing around, Caroline found Mrs. Fezziwig, the stout pleasant woman that she was, barreling down the stairwell with a wide grin on her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Marley. How entirely unexpected but completely delightful. You are most welcome,” Mrs. Fezziwig exclaimed, offering a grand curtsy when she reached the bottom.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fezziwig,” Caroline nodded to return the greeting. “I only intended to leave my card, but how lovely to find you at home.”

“Oh, you must stay for tea.” Once again, she took to bustling about, hurrying down the corridor. “I’ll ring for tea at once, and you can join me in the drawing room. Oh, you must stay!”

Caroline normally had no patience for such dramatics, but she found herself smiling in amusement. “You are too kind, Mrs. Fezziwig.”

“Not at all.” The elderly woman linked Caroline’s arm in her own and pulled her into the drawing room where they awaited their refreshment. “Now tell me everything. How have you been these many years, and how is London? I know you’ve suffered such loss, with your parents and your husband and now your aunt, the poor dear. But you seem to bear it all with grace, and still carry the beauty of youth about you. How darling you are!”

Caroline had not anticipated such a gushing reaction, but it did lovely things for her pride, especially after her run-in with Robert. It was not every day one received such genuine compliments, for those in London were all too obvious in their insincerity or their disdain. But Mrs. Fezziwig couldn’t be false if she tried.

Though she had started the visit intending to clam-up and maybe even distance herself from Mrs. Fezziwig, Caroline instead found herself relaxing into the chair and relishing the warmth of the room and the company. Perhaps she could linger a moment longer.