victoria hinshaw

The Fountainebleau Fan

      Elizabeth Drayton wrapped a second shawl around her black-clad shoulders and hurried down the staircase to the dimly lit drawing room. Warmth from the fire hardly penetrated its damp chill. Two candles flickered on the table, their flame lighting only a tiny circle in the murky gloom.

      Bertha, dowager Countess of Allward, mother of Elizabeth's deceased husband, glowered at the late arrival, her look of disapproval saying far more than words. Shivering, Elizabeth hastily sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, expecting an instant scold. Beside her sat Hester, the younger Countess of Allward also draped in shapeless black, head bowed as she waited to read from a book of sermons, a daily ritual both at dawn and again after sunset. Three widows, locked in a cycle of grief, regret and misery without relief.

      The dowager frowned at Elizabeth but her words were harmless. "You may begin, Hester

      Hester began to read in a low monotone. Elizabeth hardly heard a word her sister-in-law muttered.

      Ever since she and Reginald had come to Allward Manor six years ago, Elizabeth spent hours every day with these two bleak and bitter ladies. Her life had been even more circumscribed since Reginald died. One year, one month, and one week ago.

      She was a virtual prisoner in this shadowy, forbidding house, where the dark hangings of deep mourning had never been cast aside. The dowager required the presence of her two widowed daughters-in-law almost every moment of the day. Elizabeth could hardly go out for a walk on the moor. Even sitting in the library with a book was frowned upon. When they engaged in needlework, it was always mending or sewing shirts for the farm workers, nothing like the silk embroidery Elizabeth had learned as a girl.

      Only rarely could she find time in secret to write a letter. She had arranged to receive her mail at the vicar's house when she found the dowager had opened a letter to Elizabeth from her cousin.

      But now, the dreary routine would end very soon.

      If only she could bear another few days, she would make her escape and learn to breath freely. Teach herself to smile and laugh again.

      But that thought brought her a tinge of renewed sadness. For she would have to leave Richard behind in this house of sorrow. Her nephew, the nine-year-old Earl of Allward, would miss her. And she would miss him very much. But not for long, she hoped.

      "Elizabeth, you must read the poems next!" The dowager's grating tone broke into her thoughts. Not a word of the sermon had penetrated her head.

      She took a book from the table and opened it at the marked page. She tipped it toward the meager light and started to read, her voice barely above a whisper.

      "Beneath the bowing yews, upon the moonless plain . . . beside the weeping willows . . . gravestones mossy . . . came the hooded figure bent in sorrow . .

      Though she spoke the words of the poem, Elizabeth's mind was far away. In a few days, if she calculated correctly, her cousins would arrive to take her away, whether the dowager wished her to go or not.

      To Elizabeth, the dowager's life of self-negation and these repetitious recitals of self-improving tracts was hypocrisy of the highest degree. The elder Lady Allward constantly claimed her only interest was preserving the family heritage for Richard, but instead of caring for others, upholding the stewardship of the land, and honoring the memory of the two dead earls and Reginald -- father, son and brother -- the dowager and Hester had turned their rightful mourning into a gloomy and self-indulgent obsession. And the way they treated the young earl, keeping him cooped up with books and unable to meet other children, why it was a disgrace! No child should have to live as Richard did because his grandmother's motions of raising a child were twisted and unnatural.

      Elizabeth wished she could find some pity in her heart for the dowager. She had often tried to assuage her mother-in-law's heartache and misery, especially when she and Reginald had first arrived at Allward. Over the years, she had come to realize that Reginald's mother preferred to display her unhappiness at the expense of all else. The house remained draped in black, the chandeliers never fully lit.

      The last year had been particularly stultifying. Without Reginald to talk with, Elizabeth felt herself shriveling inside. Without Reginald to buffer the strict regimen the dowager demanded, poor Richard was miserable. If Hester, his mother, wished him a more vigorous life, she never said so. Only Elizabeth and the tutor, Owen Macneil, attempted to bring the boy some measure of cheer.

      " . . . the stony sepulcher forever sealed, and tears never more to cease."

      When at last Elizabeth came to the end of the poem and put the book aside, she felt the dowager's eyes bore into her. Elizabeth raised her head and met the dark gaze directly.

      The dowager's brow furrowed, her voice crackled with indignation. "You are not to leave Allward, Elizabeth. Your duty is to your memory of Reginald and to his family, not to your cousin." She drew a letter from her sleeve and waved it in the air. "This came for you today, and fortunately Fox brought it to me. I regret that it is too late to prevent the arrival of this cousin of yours, but we will send her on her way the very next day."

      Elizabeth studied her hands, suppressing her instant burst of resentment. Alice had followed her directions precisely and sent a letter the dowager was sure to intercept, as planned. It was the only way Elizabeth could devise that would prevent Lady Allward from ordering Alice and her husband, Blaine Gifford, not to come.

      Now Elizabeth needed to follow her own plan just as exactly. She drew a deep breath.

      "It has been more than a year since Reginald was taken from us. I respect your right to spend the rest of your life mourning the deaths of your husband and sons. But I cannot do that. I shall go with my cousin and her husband and make my future in London

      "How dare you desecrate the memory of my son by turning away from his home and his legacy?" The dowager's hooded eyes glittered with menace.

      Elizabeth was glad she had taken the precaution of having made a duplicate key to her room, for she would not be surprised if the dowager locked her in tonight. She needed to summon her firmest resolve.

      "I do not consider it proper for you to intercept my letters. But since you have done so, then you know that I will be leaving in a few days."

      "I do not wish to be defied, Elizabeth. You must not leave Allward."

      Again, Elizabeth took a great sustaining breath, her heart pounding but her words utterly calm. "You will recall that I first met Reginald in London, married him there, and lived with him in town for several years before we came to Allward. I am going home to the years of my greatest joy with Reginald and to my family."

      That was laying it on a bit thick, but Elizabeth hoped to deter a long argument which would only exhaust them and settle nothing. She had her own plans to put into effect and nothing Reginald's mama said would stop her.

      The Dowager Countess of Allward stood tall and glared at Elizabeth. "I do not approve of your ideas, Elizabeth. But if you leave Allward, do not expect ever to be permitted to return. Once you are gone, you are no longer part of my family. If that is what you wish, then I never want to see you again, here or anyplace else."

      Elizabeth noted the expression that passed across Hester's face, a look of shock and horror. Then she looked at Elizabeth with what seemed to be a glimmer of admiration. Perhaps someday, Elizabeth thought, Hester would find her own way out of this dreadful existence. Once Richard entered Eton, perhaps she too might escape from the dowager's heavy hand.

      "You may condemn me if you wish, but I believe you both would be better off if you tried to resume a more normal life, bring some light and activity into this dreary mausoleum."

      "Enough!" The dowager shook a finger at Elizabeth and her voice quivered with rage. "I have no wish in the world but to revere my husband's legacy and protect the honored name of this family."

      Elizabeth shook her head. "And you are perfectly correct to do so. But I cannot stay here and watch you wither away."

      She wanted to say more, much more, but she knew it would meet deaf ears. Sadly, she turned and climbed the stairs. There were few clothes she wanted to take along, but she needed to pack the little she had.

      * * *

      When Elizabeth entered the schoolroom, Mr. Macneil stood and bowed to her. Richard's glistening eyes and quivering lower lip made her wince, and she rushed to embrace his thin shoulders and press her cheek to his pale curls. He was a mere wisp of a boy, far too thin for good health. "Please, do not be upset, Richard."

      Mr. Macneil waited until she let the boy go. "Richard is distressed because the dowager Lady Allward told us you would never be received at Allward again."

      Richard pulled out of her arms and gazed into her face. "I wanted to tell her you would always be welcome at my house, because I know that Allward is really mine, not hers. But I was afraid she would get angrier. I was not brave enough . . ."

      "Richard, you did not lack courage. You know that Grandmama must be obeyed, so you did the proper thing. Once you go to Eton, I will see you there. Perhaps I will find a house in London where you and Mr. Macneil can come to visit. Would you like that?"

      "Very much, Aunt Elizabeth

      "Then I shall be sure I find a place you will enjoy." She turned to Mr. Macneil and handed him a folded paper. "Here is the direction of my cousin in London. Please write to me there are soon as you have made plans for school. And make it as soon as possible." Elizabeth tried to convey the urgency she felt through pressing the tutor's hand. "Remember, both Richard's father and his uncle wanted him to attend Eton

      Mr. Macneil nodded. "I shall do my best, Mrs. Drayton. I have already written to a friend who is a fellow at the college to engage us some accommodations for the summer term beginning in April."

      "Excellent." Elizabeth again hugged the boy. "It will be only a few weeks until I see you again, Richard. Until then, do everything your grandmama and Mr. Macneil tell you

      "I shall, Aunt Elizabeth

      She blew him one more kiss as she back out of the door. Leaving him was the only part of her departure she regretted.

      * * *

       The dowager did not emerge from her bedchamber to bid them goodbye. Only Hester accompanied them to the hall and wished them a good journey.

      Elizabeth embraced her sister-in-law's slumping shoulders. "You must be sure that Richard goes to school soon, Hester. It will be good for him to go out into the world."

      Hester looked forlorn. "I will miss him."

      "But you must do what is best and what the last two earls planned for him."

      A quarter hour later, Elizabeth rested her forehead against the window of her cousin's coach and watched Allward disappear behind a curve in the road. When she could no longer identify the stone wall surrounding the estate, she sank back on the soft cushions and gave a big sigh.

      "You are relieved to be away from there, Lizzie." Alice took Elizabeth's hand and squeezed it gently.

      "Yes. I am."

      "So am I. I have never felt less welcome in my life. And the food was inedible, for the most part."

      The apparently napping Blaine opened one eye. "Do not worry, my pet. We will stop at an inn soon for a hearty meal."

      Elizabeth tried to grin. "I believe you have missed your claret, Mr. Gifford."

      "And my hock. And my brandy. And even a strong cup of coffee." He closed his eyes again and folded his hands across his waistcoat.

       "How have you endured it all these years, Elizabeth?" Alice's voice was full of compassion.

      "When Reginald was alive, I tried to find things to like about Allward, though the dowager has made it thoroughly bleak. She has a strong sense of preserving it for Richard, however, and I know she will not allow it to deteriorate. But not a flower blooms all spring and summer except a few wild bluebells in the woods. The child should have had a dog or at least a kitten. Until his tutor came, I was the only one who tried to bring a smile to his face with a silly stories and games."

      Alice shook her head. "That is no way to treat a child."

      "Yes. I sympathize with the dowager, who lost her husband, then both of her sons. But I would expect her to be devoted to Richard's best interests. Instead she tries to suppress all his boyish amusements. But before he died, Reginald made his mother renew her promise the young earl would be enrolled at Eton. Hence the tutor."

      "Will his grandmother really allow Richard to leave Allward?"

      "I pray she will. I have encouraged Hester to insist. It was the wish of his father that his son follow in his footsteps. I think the dowager sees it as her duty to the family because the old earl, her husband, went to school there too."

      "Then she will probably let him go."

      "I hope so. Richard needs contact with other boys. In fact, he needs to learn to be a boy, to counteract the influence of his grandmother's strict ideas. If he stayed at Allward under her tutelage, Richard would be sure to break away eventually. He might even become a libertine of gigantic proportions after years of being stifled and molded to her narrow model."

      "You mean the way the Prince of Wales reacted to his parents?"

      "Exactly. If ever there was a model of how not to raise sons . . ." Elizabeth let her voice fade away.

      Alice nodded vigorously. "No need to go into details! So tell me, dearest, what caused you to go there? I have forgotten why you and Reginald went to live at Allward. You had your own life in London, did you not?"

      "Reginald felt it was his duty to take care of the family estates on behalf of his mother and Richard. The boy was only four years old when his father died." Elizabeth wished she had voiced her opposition to Reginald's move to Allward after his brother died. But, like so many things in her life, she had meekly agreed to the plans of others.

      Blaine opened his eyes again. "I did not have much time for inspection, but it appears Reginald did an excellent job managing the place."

      "His greatest regret was that he could not counteract his mother's schemes for Richard. Four years of age is not the time when a child can comprehend his future responsibilities. Once he became Earl of Allward, the dowager refuse to allow him to see other boys of his age, and she set up a strict regimen of lessons in moral imperatives as well as Greek, Latin and the classics."

      "Did his mother not object?"

      "Not that I heard. Perhaps you do not understand what it is to live with a person like the dowager. I did not object to her routines either. If Reginald's protests were futile, what could I do?"

      Alice still looked disgruntled. "But you had to give up your old lives to hide away in Yorkshire

      Elizabeth nodded, relieved that her cousin understood so clearly. "Yes. But I refuse to dwell upon it now. I am free and I intend to find a new life

      Alice laced her gloved fingers into Elizabeth's hand. "You know we want you to live with us

      "That very thought has comforted me and truly kept me going in the last year. I cannot tell you how much your help means to me. Though I do not think I have to be dependent on anyone. I have adequate resources, do I not, Mr. Gifford?"

      "We are family. Please call me Blaine. I repeat Alice's invitation, cousin Elizabeth. We would love to have you stay with us in Brook Street as long as you wish. Or at Gifford Manor, which I believe you and Reginald visited some years ago, did you not?"

      "We did. And a lovely place it is. I have fond memories of our stay there - in July, I believe it was. The gardens were lovely

      She leaned forward a little to encourage him to continue on the subject of her finances.

      He smiled, apparently recognizing her desire. "I have engaged a man to superintend the inventory and care of the assets left you by Reginald. You may be assured that your annual income will exceed four or five thousand a year

      Alice's gasp was matched by Elizabeth's.

      "You do not mean that!"

      "Indeed I do, cousin Elizabeth. Your husband was a very wealthy man. He apparently turned a small inheritance from an aunt into a considerable fortune by clever investments, good sense and sound management

      "I had no idea it was so much." Elizabeth felt the tears gather in her eyes.

      "Nor did his mother, I suspect. Before we departed London, I took the liberty of checking into the condition of the Allward estates, and they have been run well in the last dozen years

      "Then the dowager and Hester have no immediate needs for an infusion of funds?"

      "No, indeed. As you requested, I did not make it known to anyone that the terms of Reginald's will left only a small legacy to his mother and nothing to his brother's family. As it should be for a second son who inherits none of the entailed family estates. I am well acquainted with the solicitors who supervise the trusts held for Richard, and they assure me the boy's future is well looked after."

      "Thank you, cousin Blaine. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to know you are taking care of my interests

      "Think nothing of it, my dear

      Alice was still open-mouthed in amazement. "You did not know how much you had, Lizzie?"

      "I knew only that the remaining assets, after the will's terms were fulfilled, were left to me. The dowager had no idea how much that might be, and never inquired. I think she thought Reginald had only enough to live on. That he made investments never occurred to her, and I said nothing."

      Blaine gave a chuckle. "Reginald had things arranged perfectly with his London representatives, hidden in plain sight. When I brought them a letter from you, they cooperated immediately."

      Alice's face shone with glee. "Then Lizzie, you will be a wealthy widow! If you do not mind my making light of it, you will be much in demand in the marriage mart, or should I say, the second marriage mart!"

      Elizabeth shivered in horror. "Do not be a henwit, Alice. I have about as much interest in marrying again as I have in jumping off London Bridge

      "Nonsense. You must find another husband. And you will be ardently pursued, dearest. We shall have a merry time escorting you to London routs as your chaperones, if you allow us the pleasure

      "I find the idea ludicrous. It has been years since I attended anything remotely like a London party. I would not remember how to behave, and your fun would be short-lived

      "We shall have a merry time assembling a wardrobe for you. No more blacks, Elizabeth. With your pale complexion and dark hair, we will need to find just the right colors to bring out the bloom in your cheeks. I have a superior modiste, Madame Kuony, who keeps me au courant with all the latest fashions.

      She will love having you to dress."

      Blaine, who had sunk back in his corner, muttered a few words. It sounded to Elizabeth as though he was remarking about the modiste's bank account.

      But Alice chattered on, oblivious. "I see you in many shades of green to match your eyes."

      "My eyes are not green. They are gray, quite without color."

      Alice gave a little giggle. "Do not contradict me, Elizabeth. You can see your eyes only in a mirror. Even in the dim light of this carriage I can see they are distinctly green." She poked at her husband. "Is that not so, my dear?"

      Blaine groaned and mumbled something.

      "You see? He thinks they are green also."

      Elizabeth thought nothing of the kind, but it was hopeless to argue. And what did it matter if Alice thought her eyes were purple? She owed everything to her cousin and it appeared the best way to repay her was to give Alice her wish to introduce Elizabeth to her friends.

      Alice continued to tease her about abundant marriage prospects on the horizon, and Elizabeth responded in kind. It was only later, when they ran out of conversation, that Elizabeth gazed out of the coach window at the springtime scene and let her mind wander. The farther from Allward they traveled, the better she felt. Even the February sunshine tried to break through a thin layer of clouds and bring brighter prospects to the road ahead. Alice's cheek rested on the cushions, and her even breathing told Elizabeth she had joined her husband in a little nap.

      Elizabeth's head was full of her secret dreams. For several months, the vision had been there in her brain, the vision of a house, her very own house. She could see its vague outlines on a slope above the Thames, far upstream from the city, in Surrey or even Berkshire. It would be a house of modest proportions with enough land for an orchard and a garden. She had no idea where the mental picture came from, yet it had a powerful hold on her, even more powerful because it was her secret, unshared with anyone.

      Elizabeth had been a little less than honest with Blaine, for she had known enough of Reginald's affairs to know that his holdings were substantial. Poor Reginald had become ever more compulsive, more like his mother, if the truth were told. Poor Reginald gave up his chosen life for his family, and his mother never appreciated it. As far as she was concerned, no sacrifice was too great to make in the name of the Earls of Allward.

      But Reginald had his own kind of rebellion. Unknown to his mother, many of the hours he had spent at his desk at Allward were devoted to his investments and other business interests beyond his nephew's estate.

      Too many hours. Almost as though he had taken refuge in the estate office to avoid contact with the ladies. To be honest, she and Reginald had grown far apart in the years spent at Allward. Under the influence of his mother, he became introspective and bad-tempered. He lost interest in having children, for which Elizabeth had an abiding regret.

      Of course, that might be one advantage to marrying again, if she found the right match. She was still young enough to have children. But any potential husband would probably come with a family already, several children grieving for a lost mother. That might not be the kind of family she needed.

      No, better to be independent, as shocking as that sounded. Not that she would disclose such a scandalous thought with anyone, even Alice. No one would expect her to establish her very own household, but that was exactly what Elizabeth intended to do.

      She was determined to have her own establishment, one where she could express her own tastes. Strange as it seemed, she had never had a house of her own. When she left her parents, she lived in Reginald's house, with furniture and servants chosen by him. At the time it had not occurred to her to change a single thing. Then, she lived at Allward where the dowager allowed no deviation from her austere choice of furnishing, dark, sparse and mostly uncushioned, as if a soft sofa would be evidence of disrespect for the lost men of the family.

      Elizabeth's house would be full of light, with soft colors and plush sofas, full of flowers and the sweet scents of rosewater and lavender pot-pourri. She would have a fortepiano and begin to play again. A sunny nook could be outfitted for painting watercolors, something she had not set her hand to since she left her father's house.

      And she would have a well-cushioned chaise near a large oil lamp for reading. It would be her haven from the world.

      Alice awakened, snuggled near, and put her head on Elizabeth's shoulder. She whispered so as not to disturb her still napping husband. "Lizzie, I have just thought of two perfect gentlemen for you. I cannot wait to introduce you

      Elizabeth bit back an instant refusal. That would be no way to reward Alice and Blaine for rescuing her. Instead, she sighed and feigned a nap herself.

      A few weeks of the London social scene, and she could withdraw gracefully. The notion of finding another husband made her shudder.