Chapter One

What is to become of us?

Lady Florentina finished pouring the tea for her mother and sisters and then finally took her seat. The silence that followed seemed to grow heavier with every moment and Florentina felt as though she were being pressed into her seat all the more. Her shoulders dropped and she closed her eyes, aware of the tears that pressed against them, desperate to be freed.

“Where is Henry?”

Florentina looked up as her mother spoke, keenly aware of how Lady Haddington had not lifted her head nor allowed her gaze to rest on anyone ever since they had returned from the graveside.

“I do not know, mama,” she replied, casting a glance at each of her sisters in turn, though none of them had any answer to offer. “Shall I go and find him, if you wish it?”

Lady Haddington said nothing for some minutes and Florentina felt herself begin to grow a little fretful. Clasping her hands together tightly, she pressed her lips together and held her gaze steady, forcing herself to keep silent rather than press her mother for a response. The loss of the Earl of Haddington—Florentina’s father and Lady Haddington’s husband—had been a heavy burden for the family to bear and Florentina knew she had to treat her mother with as much kindness and gentleness as possible, even though she herself was entirely broken also. But, as the eldest of the Haddington daughters, she felt a responsibility towards both her mother and her younger siblings.

“I ought not to call him Henry any longer, I suppose.”

Florentina’s attention was once more drawn to her mother, who had begun to speak in a dull voice, her eyes still downcast and her shoulders slumped.

“He is the new Earl of Haddington.”

This was spoken without any sense of gladness, without any whisper of joy. It was simply spoken as a matter of fact, that this was now how things stood.

“He is still Henry, mama,” said Miriam, one of Florentina’s sisters. “You may still call him by his name, if you wish it.”

Lady Haddington did not say anything in response to this. Instead, she drew in a long breath, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the chair. Florentina exchanged a brief glance with Miriam and offered a sad smile, seeing the tears welling in her sister’s eyes. They were all so broken, so lost in their sorrow, it seemed as though they might never rise from it.

“Henry shall take care of our family, mama.” Christina, sitting next to Miriam, leaned forward in her chair and spoke with such earnestness that Florentina’s heart ached at the weight of their current circumstances. “He understands his responsibilities towards us. Father taught him well, I am certain of it.”

“Of course he did.” Miriam’s eyes were fixed to her teacup, her mouth thin and her cheeks pale. “But whether or not our elder brother is willing to put into practice all that Father taught him is another matter entirely.”

“I am certain he shall,” Florentina interrupted, sensing her sister’s fears. Though she understood them, she knew she could not allow them to taint their mother’s already dark world. “Let us not forget that he, too, is struggling with his own grief at present. It is no small burden for him, especially now that he must shoulder the full weight of the title.” She straightened in her chair, raising her chin slightly and forcing confidence into her voice, even though she did not feel it. “Give Henry some time and I am certain he will not fail us.”

“Indeed.” Her mother sighed and lifted her eyes to Florentina’s. Florentina smiled gently but her mother did not return it with one of her own. There was still too much sorrow within her heart to permit such a thing but Florentina prayed that, in time, the pain and grief would lessen. “Florentina, might you go in search of Henry?” She stopped, closed her eyes and shook her head. “Might you go in search of Lord Haddington, my dear? There are some matters I should like to discuss with him.”

Florentina swallowed the lump in her throat that came with the mention of her late father’s title. It was quite right and proper that it should be bestowed on her brother now, but still, there was such a great swell of emotion on hearing it that Florentina could not immediately answer.

“Yes, mama.” Rising to her feet, Florentina drew in a deep breath and made her way to the door. They were no longer the contented, secure family that they had once been. Their father’s untimely death had brought with it a sense of chaos, of uncertainty and fear. Florentina could only pray that her brother would do all he could to make certain that their futures would be entirely secured. Her father had promised them all so much and now he was gone from them forever. Would Henry be able to fulfil his father’s duties and care for them all as his father had done? Try as she might, Florentina could see nothing but dark clouds on the horizon, could feel the icy rain doing all it could to pierce her skin. There was doubt and there was fear and Florentina was afraid that they would never be overcome.

***

One year later.

“Mama?”

Florentina made her way to the stairs and looked down to the hallway, wondering if she might find her mother there. The house seemed to be a little too quiet for the time of day, and a swirl of both nerves and unease immediately settled within her. It was a sensation that had plagued her for many months now, and try as she might, Florentina could never quite rid herself of it.

“Mama?” Her voice echoed down the staircase and into the hallway, but there came no response. Her brows furrowed as she wondered where her mother might be at this early hour. Her room was empty and she was not in the parlour nor the drawing room. According to the maid, her other sisters were still abed, and Florentina and Lady Haddington were the only ones awake. Was there a chance that Lady Haddington had gone riding? Or had she decided to take an early morning stroll through the gardens? Though it would be most unlike her to do so, there seemed to be no other plausible explanation for her mother’s absence.

A sudden thought sent a jolt of awareness straight through her, pinning her to the spot. Florentina caught her breath, her hand at her heart as she fought for the next breath, gasping a little as she did so. She bent over slightly, forcing herself to breathe more slowly as she fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

It was a year to the day since her father had been found dead, having been thrown from his horse. A year without him, of struggling to find their place in life in his absence. A year since her mother had suddenly become a widow, abruptly bereft of the man she had always loved by her side.

Whilst Florentina had always hoped that she would marry a gentleman who cared for her as her father would care for her mother, she now, for the first time, realised the immense pain that accompanied the loss of one so dearly beloved.

Florentina knew she could not fully comprehend the depths of such grief, the agony of such a parting, for she had never experienced the kind of deep and unrelenting love that binds two souls together. And yet, she longed to find such a love within her own heart, wanted to bind herself to another in the way that she had seen her parents devote their lives to one another’s happiness and well-being. Even with the eventual parting, even with the grief and heartache that would inevitably follow, Florentina considered it all more than worthwhile.

Closing her eyes tightly, Florentina dragged in one long breath and let it out again with what felt like an agonising slowness. Her heart screamed, begging her to breathe hurriedly, to allow more air into her lungs, but Florentina refused to do so. She had to force herself into a calm state, so that she might allow her thoughts to assemble themselves into an orderly situation. Righting herself, she stood tall and set her shoulders before finally opening her eyes.

I must find her.

Lady Haddington was the only one on Florentina’s mind, just as she had been every single day of this wretched year. Florentina had watched in utter helplessness as her mother sank into a deep and impenetrable melancholy, while the world around them remained forever changed. Try as she might, Florentina had been unable to do anything to aid her and had herself grown weary and sorrowful in her continued failed attempts. It had only been in the last month that Florentina had finally seen a flicker of a smile on her mother’s lips now and again, had begun to see a new light growing in Lady Haddington’s eyes. But now, she feared that even that would be pulled away from her mother again, given that it was now one year since the loss of her husband.

“Where are you, mama?”

Florentina spoke the words aloud as she made her way to the window, looking out over the gardens once more. Her breath frosted the window lightly and she closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool glass for a moment as she fought back her fears. It had been a year of great difficulty as the heavy burden of grief and sorrow lingered in each of their hearts. With summer now approaching, Florentina had hoped that the warmth of the sun and the long, beautiful days might lift their hearts, if only a little, easing the tide of pain that had so long dominated their lives. Bearing such a responsibility not only toward her mother but also her sisters, Florentina had seldom found the time to contemplate her own grief or to allow the full measure of her heart’s sorrow to be fully understood—even by herself. It was in moments like these, moments when she stood alone and uncertain, that Florentina began to feel as though she were sinking into a vast, treacherous pit, with no one to pull her free.

“Lady Florentina?”

The gentle voice startled her and she turned around swiftly, a little embarrassed to have been caught standing in such a strange manner.

“If you are seeking Lady Haddington, she is taking a short walk in the rose garden.” The maid kept her head lowered and did not meet Florentina’s gaze, though her voice was quiet yet assured. “There is also a letter for her.”

“A letter?” Florentina shook her head, turning away from the window and making her way toward the front door. “I shall inform her of it when I find her.”

The maid curtsied but, much to Florentina’s surprise, spoke once more.

“Forgive me, my lady, but the letter was brought with great urgency,” she said, as Florentina paused beside her. “I know that Lady Haddington always wished to be informed whenever Lord Haddington wrote, and—”

“My brother has written?” Florentina’s heart leapt in her chest, for Henry had been gone from the estate for three months now and, as yet, they had not heard a word from him. “Are you quite certain?”

The maid nodded. “A man on horseback arrived only an hour ago, my lady,” she said, dropping her head a little more as though afraid Florentina would scold her for not being informed of such an arrival. “The household was still abed—or so we believed—and the letter was placed in Lady Haddington’s parlour.”

A rush of excitement spilled from Florentina’s heart, and she pressed the maid’s shoulder for a moment, before continuing to make her way to the door. “I shall inform Lady Haddington at once,” she promised, her spirits lifted at the thought of hearing from her brother, and praying that her mother would share in her excitement. “The rose garden, did you say?”

Seeing the maid nod, Florentina hurried outside, ignoring the morning chill that had not yet been banished by the bright sunshine.

Her steps were quick and her breathing a little ragged as she moved with all haste towards the rose garden, eager to see her mother. As she walked, her mind filled with memories of all that had transpired on this day a year ago. Her heart ached as she recalled the many happy times spent in the gardens with her father—how he had often walked alongside her through the rose garden itself. Lord Haddington had been a kind and gentle man, although firm in his decisions and unyielding when it came to what he believed was right. The love that he had for his wife had been more than evident and Florentina had never once doubted that he loved each of his children as well, for she had felt that love practically radiating from him every day of his life. There had always been time to listen, time to talk and to laugh. How little laughter there was these days! Now that he was gone, it felt as though he had taken all joy and all happiness with him, leaving them with nothing but a barren, grey world.

We will laugh again, Florentina told herself, finally setting eyes on her mother. One day soon, we will laugh again.

“Mama!”

Lady Haddington turned her head, showing no surprise at Florentina’s presence. Perhaps she had been expecting her to seek her out.

“Florentina, good morning.”

Florentina was a little surprised at the lightness of her mother’s tone. She had expected to hear nothing but sorrow and had thought there would be a heaviness in her mother’s voice or even in her expression but, as Lady Haddington turned to face her, Florentina was all the more astonished to see the gentle smile on Lady Haddington’s face.

“Good morning, mama.” The fears that had tugged at Florentina’s heart when she had first realised the importance of the day immediately began to fade away as she looked into Lady Haddington’s face. “You are quite well?”

Her mother’s smile was tinged with sadness, but after a moment, she nodded. “I am well, Florentina.”

“I—I am glad.”

“You did not expect me to be so, I believe.” One of her mother’s eyebrows lifted gently. “You are aware of the significance of the day.”

Florentina nodded. “I am.”

Her mother said nothing for some moments, holding Florentina’s gaze steadily although a gentle smile still played around the corners of her mouth. A soft breeze stirred around them, and Florentina felt its warmth wrap around her shoulders, comforting her in its own quiet way.

“I have been reflecting on the blessing that your father was to us all, Florentina,” Lady Haddington murmured, finally breaking the silence as she turned her head to admire some of the most beautiful yellow roses. “I am deeply sorrowful over his passing and, indeed, I do not believe I will ever be free of this feeling of loss that now binds my heart. Yet, I have also come to see the importance of considering the good he brought us whilst he was alive.”

Florentina nodded, her throat aching as once more, memories of her father were brought to mind. “I understand, mama.”

“I shall never cease grieving,” Lady Haddington continued, as though she had not heard Florentina’s words. “It will always be with me now, but I will soften the pain by recalling all the wonderful moments I shared with him.” Her smile was brighter than Florentina had seen in many months. “In so doing, I believe a part of him will always remain with me.”

“I am very glad to hear you speak so,” Florentina replied, coming a little closer to her mother and feeling such a relief that it swamped her entirely for a few seconds, leaving her struggling to speak clearly. “I—I thought that….”

“You thought that I would be lost in my despondency and sorrow, as I have been for many months,” Lady Haddington said quietly, as Florentina nodded. “I quite understand, my dear.” Reaching out, she pressed Florentina’s hand. “You have been a great support to me, Florentina. Your sisters have looked to you for guidance and assistance and you have given it without hesitation. I cannot express to you how much I have needed you, nor how deep my gratitude is for all that you have done.”

Dropping Florentina’s hand, she embraced her instead, holding her tightly for a few moments. “But I am resolved to be restored to you all now. It has been a year and you must begin to turn your thoughts toward the future!” Releasing Florentina, she stepped back and met her gaze directly. “It is time to consider London.”

Florentina’s heart dropped to the ground. “London?” she repeated, as Lady Haddington nodded. “Mama, I am not ready!”

“Nonsense,” came the firm reply, as Lady Haddington compelled herself to behave in a manner that, as yet, did not quite sit naturally upon her. “All that is required are a few new gowns and arrangements for our arrival in London. No doubt your brother will be content for us to make use of his townhouse.” Her brow furrowed. “Mayhap that will encourage him to return to this estate, knowing that we have all departed.”

Blinking rapidly, Florentina tried to take in what her mother was saying, trying to accept all that was being told to her and yet struggling to do so without difficulty. She did not wish to venture anywhere near London and into society, not yet at least. She still felt the loss of her father keenly, felt the burden of responsibility of caring for her mother and sisters still weighing heavily upon her shoulders. To go to London and into society—with the clear hope of finding a suitable match—would mean that Florentina would have to set aside such responsibilities entirely!

But mayhap that is what your mother wishes, her heart whispered quietly. She has seen all that you have done, all that you have endured, and now seeks to lift that particular burden from you.

Florentina shook her head against such thoughts—an action her mother did not fail to notice—aware that, as yet, she had not fully worked through her grief. In caring for her mother and her sisters as she had, Florentina had been compelled to set aside her own pain, which she now carried deep within her, awaiting a time when it might finally be released in its entirety. She could not possibly go to London while such a burden weighed upon her soul!

“It will all be well,” Lady Haddington said, gently, evidently seeing the worry on Florentina’s face. “You have given so much, my dear. It is time you were recompensed, I think, and London has much to offer you.” Her smile eased some of Florentina’s fear, leaving her a little less anxious. “Mayhap you will find a suitable gentleman and soon experience the same happiness your father and I shared.”

“I do not think that I will ever be able to find the same joy and love that you and Papa shared, Mama,” Florentina replied, truthfully, as her mother grasped both of her hands tightly. “But I shall be content with something even a fraction of what you had.”

Lady Haddington’s eyes flooded but her smile remained. They stood together for some moments, saying nothing but perfectly content to simply linger for a short time. Things, it seemed, were about to change, and Florentina could not help but pray that her mother might be willing to wait for at least the little Season before insisting that Florentina go to London. Yet, she held out no great hope that it would be so. Her mother was markedly changed from yesterday, now seeming to possess a renewed hope for the future and a resolve that, while she would never forget her dear husband, would carry his memory with her in whatever course she chose to follow next.

“Oh, I quite forgot!” Florentina exclaimed, suddenly. “Mama, my brother has written! There is note for you in the house. It arrived early this morning!”

Lady Haddington’s expression changed at once. Her eyes flared wide and her hands tightened on Florentina’s for just a moment. “Henry has written?” she breathed, her voice very soft indeed as though to speak any louder would frighten the letter away. “Are you quite certain?”

“I am sure of it,” Florentina replied, letting go of her mother’s hands and turning back towards the house. “It has been left for you in the parlour, I believe.” She did not need to ask whether or not her mother wished to read the note at once, for Lady Haddington immediately fell into step beside her and began to walk hurriedly back to the house.

Florentina could understand her urgency for, to not hear a single word from Henry these last few months had been very distressing for them all. She had gone from worrying about his whereabouts to outright anger at his abandonment, and her sympathy for her mother had only deepened, for the distress caused by her son’s absence had added yet another weight to an already burdened soul. Should she learn from this letter that Henry had now an intention of returning to them, then Florentina would immediately begin to prepare what she herself would want to say to him when he came back to the house. She would not hold herself back but would state unequivocally precisely what she thought of her brother’s actions. The new Earl of Haddington he might be, but that did not mean that he was able to command her respect simply because of his title!

Stepping inside, Florentina hesitated for a moment as her mother made her way towards the parlour. She did not want to intrude nor simply expect that her mother would wish her to be present when she read the letter from Henry. “I will be in the dining room, mama,” she said softly, coming to a stop. “You will wish to read your letter alone.”

Her mother opened her mouth as though to argue only to close it again and then smile at her daughter. “I will only be a few minutes,” she said, gently. “Thank you, Florentina.”

Florentina nodded, smiled and took her leave, making her way quickly to the dining room. The room was prepared for their breakfast and Florentina was glad to see another of her sisters now sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea with a book in her hand.

“Good morning, Christiana,” she said, laughing as her sister jerked visibly, having clearly been lost in whatever it was she was reading. “Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.”

Christiana smiled but her eyes remained fixed on the book. “Good morning, Florentina,” she answered, her hand which held her teacup now halfway between her mouth and the table. “Forgive me, but I am at a most important juncture in this particular novel and I simply cannot…” She trailed off, her brow now furrowing hard as her eyes ate up the words on the page before her. Smiling softly to herself, Florentina lifted the teapot and poured herself a small cup of tea, adding a dash of milk before stirring it carefully. Unable to seat herself, such was her anxiety over the letter from Henry, she made her way to the window and looked out across the grounds.

This place had always been her home and Florentina had grown very fond of it indeed. The many pleasant memories of both her childhood and her formative years had been a great comfort to her over the past year. Her father’s presence still lingered in the house and grounds, and Florentina could not bear to even consider stepping away from it all. Her mother’s talk of London had greatly unsettled her, though she had done her best not to reveal the full extent of it to Lady Haddington. Florentina did not feel ready to depart for London, to leave behind her home and some of her sisters. There was only one reason for her to attend the Season, and that would be solely to find a husband. To do so would separate her from this life forever and bring about so many changes that the very thought of it sent a cold hand grasping at her heart.

She closed her eyes, stirring her tea mechanically as she fought against a great and troublesome anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her, sending a tremor through her frame. To wed would be to begin anew, to leave behind the only life she had ever known, with a new home, a new place, and an uncertain future. It would mean being parted from her sisters and her mother, and perhaps even stealing some of the memories she was so desperate to cling to.

Swallowing hard, Florentina forced herself to take a sip of her tea . In doing so, she felt some of the cold fear lift from her chest. This was something she had always known would be in her future, even before her father’s death. It was expected. She was to marry, to begin a new life with her husband at whatever estate he owned. There would be no more daily communion with her sisters and mother; she would no longer enjoy their constant company.

I am not ready.

The thought was stolen from her as a sudden movement caught her eye. Frowning, Florentina leaned a little closer to the window, only to realise that a horse and rider were approaching the house. They were not coming with any great speed, however, as a messenger might do, but rode at a gentle pace as though the rider wished to make certain of his path.

“Christiana,” she said, slowly. “Might you join me here for a moment?”

There was no response and, frustrated, Florentina twisted her head in her sister’s direction, seeing how Christiana was still intently reading her book. “Christiana!” she exclaimed, making her sister jump in surprise. “Come, please!” She gestured to the window. “There is someone approaching.”

“Coming to the house?” Christiana replied, sounding faintly surprised. “There is probably some note or letter being delivered, that is all.” She set down her book, however and came to join Florentina by the window, scrunching up her eyes as she peered through the glass. “It is much too early for callers!”

“I do not think it is a messenger,” Florentina replied, feeling a small sense of unease begin to settle over her. “There is no urgency in his riding.”

Christiana shrugged. “Mayhap it is a lazy messenger.”

Despite her worry, Florentina could not help but laugh, throwing a quick glance towards her sister. “Mayhap it is.” She turned back to the window, only to see yet another rider coming after the first, although this one rode at a greater speed as though he wished to catch the other rider. Her brow furrowed. Two messengers? It did not make sense.

The door behind them suddenly flew open, banging back hard against the door and making them both start in surprise. Turning, Florentina was astonished to see her mother framed in the doorway, her hand pressing the door back so that it stayed in place whilst her other hand grasped the letter that Florentina presumed was from Henry.

“Mama?” she heard Christiana say, hearing the slight tremor in her sister’s voice and realising with horror, that Lady Haddington was sheet white. “Mama, whatever is the matter?”

Florentina hurried forward at once as her mother shook her head, wordlessly. Reaching her, Florentina took one arm whilst Christiana took the other, guiding Lady Haddington to a chair so that she might sit down without delay. Uncertain as to what had struck her mother with such an ailment, Florentina bent down beside her and looked up into Lady Haddington’s face, whilst Christiana quickly poured a cup of tea before ringing the bell.

“Mama,” Florentina said, rubbing her mother’s cold hand. “What is the matter?”

Lady Haddington did not speak. Instead, she simply closed her eyes tightly, her breathing ragged and her hand grasping Florentina’s. A single tear escaped from her closed eyes, making its way down her cheek until it dripped from her chin. Florentina shared a look with her sister, feeling her heart pounding with fright as she struggled to comprehend what was going on. Her mother was yet to say a single word and Florentina did not have even the smallest notion as to what to do. She wanted to comfort her mother but, in having no awareness as to what the difficulty was, could do nothing but wait.

“Mama,” Christiana said, softly, bending down so that she too was looking up into her mother’s face. “Tell us, what has caused you such distress? Are you unwell?”

Lady Haddington shook her head, drawing in such a tight breath that it rasped hoarsely. When she let her breath out, it was half a sob, half a cry and, as she did so, she handed Florentina the letter.

Florentina grasped it, smoothing it out quickly as her eyes sought to find the first line. Her heart hammered furiously, her eyes a little blurred as the fear that Henry too had met an untimely end began to course through her.

“‘My dear mother,’” she began to read, that immediate fear disappearing from her heart. “‘There is much I must explain but, in short, there will be a gentleman soon arriving who must be given every consideration. Nothing is to be held back from him, for, in truth, it is he who now has ownership of this manor house.’” Her voice faded away to nothing as she finished reading, the last sentence becoming a barely audible whisper. She could not take in what she had read, hearing her sister gasp aloud whilst her mother began to sob openly.

The house belongs to another?

“How can this be?” she whispered, slowly getting to her feet as she held out the letter before her, trying to read the words once more as though to make quite certain they were exactly as she had said aloud. “The house belongs to someone new? That cannot…” Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head, feeling a trembling take a hold of her frame. “Henry cannot have given the manor house to another, Mama! He simply cannot have done!”

“It seems he has,” her sister whispered, also getting to her feet and holding out her hand for the letter as though she too wanted to make quite certain that everything Florentina had read was exactly as Henry had written it. “Oh, what will become of us now?”

Florentina handed the letter to her sister and then bent down once more to take her mother’s hand. Shock was coursing through her veins, leaving her feeling cold and unsteady. “Mama,” she said, softly. “What are we to do?” She had no doubt that one of the riders she had seen was the new owner of Haddington house and that, within only a few minutes, he would be announced into their presence. They had to find some strength of both mind and body so that they could present a strong countenance to this as yet unknown gentleman.

Lady Haddington said nothing and there was an emptiness in her eyes that sent a chill down Florentina’s spine. Clearly, her mother was at a loss as to what they ought to do, leaving Florentina feeling utterly lost. She wanted to tear up the letter and declare that they were quite safe and that nothing was amiss, but in truth, she knew that she could not. Nothing would take back what Henry had done. It seemed that, despite her hope that Henry would take care of them, despite the trust that both she and her sisters had placed in their brother, he had broken their trust in the worst possible way.

They were strangers in their own home. They might be turned from it whenever this gentleman chose; and where would they go then? There was the Dower house, but she could not even be certain that her brother had not given that away also! Fear and dread plunged deep into Florentina’s heart and she closed her eyes, struggling to find even a modicum of calm to which she might cling.

The door opened and the butler’s voice carried towards them, his words quiet and seeming to come from far away. Florentina let out a shuddering breath and forced herself to her feet.

He had come.