Read A Countess of Convenience Online
Authors: Sarah Winn
A Countess of Convenience (34 page)
"I have instructed my solicitors to place that money in your personal bank account along with your quarterly allowance from me."
"What on earth would I do with all that money?"
"You can afford to live pretty much anywhere you want to."
Panic made her voice quiver. “Do you want me to go away?"
He finally looked up, squinting as though in pain. “I know you only married me out of economic necessity, but now we know it wasn't really necessary. I can't offer you a divorce, as that would be a blot on the family name, but I will offer you the freedom to live where you please."
Her worst fears were realized. Tears blurred her vision. “I don't want to go away."
He stood, came over to her chair, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then you can stay at Aysbeck."
Through building sobs, she managed to force out, “I don't want...to stay at Aysbeck."
He knelt beside her. “What do you want?"
"I want you to—” hiccupping sobs interrupted her “—to love me like Papa loved Mama."
He encircled her in with his arms. “I do love you, darling. Don't cry."
His declaration of love shocked her so badly that she forgot to sob. “Hazel says I have to cry."
"What does Hazel have to do with this?” he asked as he handed her his handkerchief.
Prudence dabbed at her tears. “She says her mother cries a lot when she's carrying."
She had wiped away enough tears to see the surprised look on his face. “Do you mean you're—"
When she nodded, he smiled, stood, and picked her up. Holding her against his chest with her head tucked under his chin, he said, “Then cry, my love. Cry all you need to, but not because you fear I'll send you away. I'll never do that."
He carried her to his bedroom, and they lay on the large bed, talking and touching and kissing and whispering words they had never said to each other before. And Prudence believed the declarations of love: his and hers.
June 29, 1846
Anthony had insisted that Prudence and Lady Caroline arrive at Westminster by three thirty in order to be sure of seats in the gallery. The Prime Minister's farewell address was expected to pack the House. Prudence didn't exactly understand what all the fuss was about. After all, Sir Robert would still be a member of the House of Commons and would undoubtedly speak many times in the future, but Anthony seemed to feel this was a momentous occasion.
Even Lady Caroline, who had been quite critical of Sir Robert, wanted to attend, so Prudence agreed to leave her infant daughter in the sole care of her nurse for only the second time since the child's birth.
While Prudence absolutely adored her month-old daughter, she had worried that the child's inability to be the Malvern heir might prejudice the Fairchilde side of the family against her. Soon after Sarah's birth, Prudence had hesitantly asked Malvern if he was disappointed because of the child's sex.
As he'd held the swaddled babe in his arms, he'd said, “Not a bit. It just requires renewed efforts on our parts to produce the heir.” Then he gave her a sidelong glance. “I won't mind that. Will you?"
After seeing the dowager countess lose all her dignity by jabbering baby-talk to and making comical faces at her first grandchild, Prudence didn't bother to ask her opinion on the baby's gender.
The gallery reserved for ladies was more than half full when they arrived, but Lady Caroline spotted acquaintances on the first row and quickly had people moving until spaces were available for her and Prudence. Once Anthony saw the women settled, he left them to take a place in the section reserved for members of the House of Lords.
Prudence scanned the slowly filling hall below them, hoping to recognize some of the famous statesman she had read about in the newspapers. Of course, the grill over the front of the gallery that protected the ladies’ privacy made it difficult to see clearly. Mainly, she got the impression of looking down on a slowly undulating sea of top hats.
Finally she leaned near Lady Caroline's ear. “Which one is Sir Robert?"
Lady Caroline, who had been more interested in chatting with her friends than in scanning the hall, turned her attention to the floor. “He isn't here yet.” With a nod of her head, she added, “He'll sit on the front bench on the right—the Conservative side."
Finally the Speaker of the House, wearing his ceremonial robe and wig, marched to the speaker's dais and called the meeting to order. A number of routine announcements and reports were presented. A little after six the proceedings paused as though the gentlemen on the floor didn't know what to do next. Then a tall man, whose shoulders were slightly rounded with age, bustled into the chamber carrying a dispatch case. Making his way to the front bench, he looked out of breath as a man who had been walking briskly might. She wondered if the crowds they had seen congregating in the streets had delayed him.
He placed the case he carried on the floor as he sat down. Several of the men nearest him leaned toward him and spoke in unintelligible whispers. From the Prime Minister's brief nods and a wave of his hand, Prudence guessed that he was regaining his breath. Finally he removed his hat and stood and the crowded chamber instantly fell silent.
A robust man, even though nearing sixty, Sir Robert began speaking in a voice Prudence thought unnaturally calm for a man who had just lost the most powerful position in the government. Having read newspaper accounts of his spellbinding speeches, she found his oratorical style disappointing.
As though they were everyday events, he spoke of how he had planned to dissolve Parliament if his tariff bills had not passed and how the great disruption within his own party, caused by the passage, now left no choice but for the ministry to resign. Then he matter-of-factly expressed his hopes for future directions of the always-perplexing Irish policies.
Speaking further on foreign affairs, he opened his dispatch case and held up papers, saying they were from their ambassador in United States, and that the Americans had finally accepted the British proposals to settle the conflict over the Oregon territory. This brought polite stomps and a few cries of “Hear! Hear!” from the backbenchers. The restrained response to the news that a possible war had been averted was apparently due to the irony that this diplomatic triumph had come just as the government responsible for it had fallen.
Speaking of the Corn Laws again and of the political combinations that been necessary for their repeal, Sir Robert acknowledged the hard feelings that had developed against him for leading the fight. He credited his opposition, at least some of it, with genuine convictions about the necessity of protectionism. Acknowledging that many now considered him a traitor to party principles, he concluded with the hope...
"...that I shall leave a name sometimes remembered with expressions of good will in the abodes of those whose lot it is to labor, and to earn their daily bread by the sweat of their brow, when they shall recruit their exhausted strength with abundant and untaxed food, the sweeter because it is no longer leavened by a sense of injustice."
Sir Robert sat down and genuine cheers of good will reverberated through the hall.
His last words made Prudence understand that the furor over tariffs had been about more than financial policies or even available bread in the face of a potential famine. It was truly about justice for all classes, and her husband, the arrogant Earl of Malvern, had chosen to go against his own class, possibly even his own financial welfare, to stand on the side of equality. Her pride in his moral fortitude brought tears to her eyes.
When the cheering finally subsided, the session was adjourned. After filing out to the gallery, Prudence and Lady Caroline moved with the flow of people down the stairs and into the crowded lobby. Spotting Anthony's tall figure waiting to one side of the stairway, Prudence led Lady Caroline to him.
He seemed subdued, and guessing his emotions had been stirred by the speech, Prudence refrained from making any comment.
Lady Caroline was not as considerate. “Well, the man has no one to blame for his downfall but himself."
Ignoring his mother's remark, Anthony directed them through an opening in the milling men and women. “Let's head for the side door. Perhaps it won't be so crowded."
Just as they made their way through the doorway, a cheer went up from the street crowds that had grown thicker since Prudence had entered the building. After a moment of confusion, she saw men near the street doffing hats and making a path for the unmistakable figure of Sir Robert Peel. Evidently he had also slipped out the side door, but the people had recognized him and now cheered with undeniable affection as he passed among them.
When they had first arrived at Parliament and noticed the gathering crowds, Lady Caroline had expressed concern that some sort of ugly demonstration might be in the offing. Now it was apparent the laboring classes merely wanted to honor their champion.
Prudence looked up at Anthony and spoke through the catch in her throat. “How can the people love him so much and his own party turn him out?"
Anthony shook his head solemnly. “Sir Robert cared more for the welfare of the people than for his party."
"Isn't that what a Prime Minister should do?"
Lady Caroline could not contain her indignation. “His first duty was to defend the principles of the party that made him Prime Minister."
With a sigh, Anthony said, “Did the party make him or did he make the party?"
His mother looked at him sourly but shrugged. “I only hope you don't come to regret your decision to support him."
Prudence hooked her arm through her husband's and smiled at her mother-in-law. “No matter what may come, a man should never regret doing what is right."
Lady Caroline huffed. “I think I liked you two better when yours was only a marriage of convenience."
Anthony's hand covered Prudence's as he smiled at his mother. “Well, you have no one to blame but yourself. You did all you could to lead us into love."
With an elegant toss of her head, Lady Caroline said, “Like Sir Robert, I'll just have to live with the consequences of my actions.” She moved forward, parting the crowd, and Prudence and Anthony followed her.
Sir Robert Peel never again rose to a leadership position in England. He died in 1850 after falling from a horse. But some Members of Parliament continued to fight for his beliefs of moderation between the policies of Conservatives and Liberals. These MPs came to be referred to as Peelites. I like to imagine the Earl of Malvern as one of the leaders of this group.
Sarah Winn has ten published novels to her credit. She won the EPIC Award in 2003 for the best electronically published historical romance and was a finalist in the historical erotic romance category in 2007. Her latest book,
A Countess of Convenience,
is her second novel set in Victorian England. Originally intending to research the Regency period, she drifted a few decades further on and found the Victorians far more dynamic. You can read more about Sarah and her work at www.Sarahwinn.com.
