Chapter 1

Lancaster, England, 1818

“The red one won’t fit, neither will the yellow one – every day I seem to lose another dress to my ever-expanding enormity,” Lily exclaimed, tossing the dress she was holding onto her bed and collapsing onto the chaise lounge by the window with a sigh.

Alicia looked at her sympathetically. Lily was heavy with child, expecting any day, and every time Alicia saw her, she seemed to grow bigger. Today, she was dressed in a flowing white nightgown, her shoulders wrapped in a shawl, but even this was growing too tight for her, and it would surely not be long before nothing in her wardrobe would fit.

“Can’t your maid do something about it?” Alicia said, and Lily rolled her eyes.

“Helen couldn’t let out a dress. She can barely darn a pair of stockings, bless her. No, I’ll have to send for something to wear – the modiste, perhaps she’ll come and measure me. I’ve got nothing to wear for the tea party on Monday – imagine that, the hostess without a thing to wear. I can hardly sit with the county ladies in my nightgown, can I?” she exclaimed, sighing again, and raising her arms above her head with a look of despair on her face.

The two friends were taking tea in Lily’s private sitting room. It was a pleasant room, comfortably furnished, overlooking the parkland of Burnley Abbey, the imposing edifice of which was visible beyond the trees across the garden. Lily and Maximilian had lived in a house belonging to a great uncle of Maximilian since their marriage. It had been a gift from the duke and duchess, and Alicia was a frequent visitor. Her parents divided their time between London and Lancashire, and having spent several seasons there, they had purchased a house not far from Burnley Abbey, where Alicia now lived for much of the year.

“Oh, they won’t mind. Just stay sitting down and wrap yourself in a shawl. They’ll not know the difference,” Alicia replied, even as Lily looked at her aghast.

“I’m to be the Duchess of Lancaster one day – I can hardly be seen in such a terrible state. Oh, it’s hopeless. I think I’ll cancel the whole thing. I’m sure it wasn’t like this with Emily, but now…oh, I just want it over with,” she exclaimed.

Emily was Lily and Maximilian’s first child, and Alicia’s goddaughter. She was a dear little thing, not quite a year old, and Alicia was always happy when Lily brought her to call on her, or invited her to walk with them in the parkland.

“I’m sure it won’t be long. You just need to have patience,” Alicia replied.

“Patience! Spoken by a woman who's never known what it’s like to carry a child. Believe me, when you do, you’ll find patience a difficulty,” Lily replied, struggling to sit up and shifting herself back and forth as though trying desperately to get comfortable.

Alicia could not help but smile. Marriage and motherhood had made Lily a very different person to the one Alicia had first encountered in London when they were both in the first flush of youth. Back then, she had been hot-headed and fiercely independent, but the years had mellowed her, and now she no longer wrote scandal sheets for a living, her interests were concentrated on more domestic matters.

“Well… I’m sure that won’t be happening for a while,” Alicia replied, as Lily finally got herself into what appeared to be a comfortable position, looking up at Alicia and narrowing her eyes.

“And why not? You received a great deal of attention at the assembly rooms ball last week – how many marks on your dance card were there? Three? Four?” Lily said, and Alicia blushed.

She had danced with several men at the ball, but as for seeing them again…

“Oh, but you know what these things are like. A dance doesn’t mean anything if the man doesn’t pursue the matter further. If a dance isn’t followed by a call the next day, it should be forgotten,” she said, returning Lily’s gaze sardonically and folding her arms.

Lily laughed.

“Oh, nonsense – there were any number of eligible men there, and all of them were interested in you,” she said, tutting and shaking her head.

“Name one. I danced with the Duke of Hamilton’s third son – he talked of nothing but entering the church and becoming a Bishop. I don’t want to be a clergyman’s wife. Then there was the odd-looking man with the squint and crossed eyes – he was a merchant. I don’t want to marry a merchant, and certainly not a cross eyed one… Lancashire society just doesn’t offer anything more than third sons and social climbers. They come here because in London they’re nothing,” Alicia said.

She liked living in Lancashire. She liked the country walks and carriage drives, she liked the fresh air and pleasant company of like-minded people, she liked to be near Lily and Emily, but as for finding a husband…

“And…there was someone else,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows.

Alicia blushed.

“Oh…yes, well…Ernest, Lord Crawshaw, I suppose…but…he’s not going to be interested in me, is he? Not really. He’s the son of a duke, but a son with prospects. I don’t even know why he was there,” Alicia replied.

She had danced with Ernest Howard, and they had enjoyed a pleasant conversation. But that was as far as it had gone – at least from Alicia’s perspective. He was a pleasant man, handsome, with blonde hair and a chiseled face, and had spoken of his admirable work in building a school for blind children in Manchester. His father, the Duke of Crawshaw, was blind, and it seemed Ernest had found within himself a desire to do what he could for those less fortunate than himself, for he had told Alicia he felt fortunate not to have been born with his father’s affliction.

“He was trying to garner support for the school he’s building – for blind children. He told me all about it. But… I think he was only being friendly. I liked him, but…nothing would ever come of it. I doubt he’s even in the district any longer,” Alicia replied.

It had been pleasant to meet Ernest, and to dance with him, but she had really given little thought to anything more. A dance was a dance, and without a calling card or the promise of an invitation, it was merely a passing pleasure.

“But his parents live in the district – Anne knows their daughter, Isobel. She was at their wedding. I think Ernest was, too, though of course I wasn’t there myself. She and Anne are good friends, though – you should speak to her about it. She’ll be at the tea party. I could invite Isobel, too,” Lily said, her eyes brightening, as though she intended to distract herself from her pregnancy by playing matchmaker.

Alicia groaned.

“Oh, Lily, I don’t need you to do that. I’m sure it was just a passing pleasure – a dance and a conversation. I’m sure he’s entirely forgotten me. I’d look a fool if you started making assignations on my behalf to Isobel. She’d think I was quite ridiculous. Besides, you forget I’m just the daughter of a merchant. I can’t marry the first son of a duke,” Alicia said.

She did not want Lily to interfere, even as she knew her friend had only her best intentions at heart. Without her scandal sheets to write, Lily was often at a loss as to what to do with her time, and it was then she would start interfering in that of others. She liked to have her projects, and it seemed Alicia was about to be her next…

“Oh, nonsense. I’m the daughter of the man who single-handedly tried to bring down the entire Oakley dynasty and destroy the House of Lancaster for good. Now, I’m married to its heir. Those sorts of things don’t matter – not really. If you fall in love, be it with prince or pauper, that’s all that matters,” she said.

It all sounded so simple when put like that, but Alicia knew better. Marriage was governed by convention, and whilst her own father would never dream of forcing her hand, he had made it clear he expected her to make a suitable match soon.

“But I’ve not fallen in love with anyone. I’ve danced with one man at a ball. He happened to be pleasant and charming. I’ll probably never see him again. I’m quite content with that,” Alicia said, for she really did not see any point in pursuing the matter further.

Lily tutted.

“Don’t be so defeatist. We’ll invite Isobel to the tea party. You can be properly introduced by Anne, and then we can ‘discover’ the delightful coincidence of your having danced with Isobel’s brother. She’ll insist on the two of you meeting again. I can just imagine it – she’ll say something like, ‘oh, Ernest is so busy helping others he doesn’t have time for romance, but I feel so sorry for him, he deserves the happiness of companionship,’ and that’s when we’ll suggest the two of you meet again. She’ll agree, and then…” Lily said, clapping her hands together in delight as though the matter was already complete and Alicia was betrothed to a man she had only met once and knew nothing of apart from his being the son of a blind duke.

Alicia sighed. Lily was relentless when it came to such things. She had replaced her observation of the lives of others with direct interference, and Alicia knew she would not easily be dissuaded now the idea of Ernest had been planted in her mind.

“I’m not sure it’s that simple, Lily,” Alicia replied, but her friend shook her head.

“It’s perfect, Alicia – don’t you want to see him again? Weren’t you disappointed he made no further arrangements to see you?” she asked.

Alicia had to admit to a slight disappointment, though she was not about to appear desperate to attract the attentions of a man who clearly had far more important things to think about than the flirtations following a ball. Ernest had been, by far, the most eligible of the men she had danced with, but as for expecting him to remember her…

“A little, perhaps, but… I don’t want you to go to any trouble, Lily,” she said, even as she realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, but it’s no trouble. You’re my dearest friend, and to think of all you’ve done for me in the past. If it weren’t for you, Maximilian and I would never have married. I owe you my happiness, Alicia, and I intend to repay it by making you happy, too,” she said.

Alicia sighed. Lily was not in her debt, though it was true she had done a great deal to help her friend secure her match with Maximilian. It had been Alicia who had gone to talk to him when all had appeared hopeless, and it was she who had persuaded Maximilian of Lily’s worth, following the discovery of her being the author of the scandal sheets he had been made the subject of. But Alicia did not want this apparent debt to be repaid through a misguided attempt at garnering romance. She was more than capable of securing a match for herself, or so she believed…

“There’s really no need,” Alicia said, but her words fell on deaf ears, deafened further by the arrival of a screaming Emily, held in the arms of her nanny.

“Oh, here she is, my darling child. Look, Emily, your godmother’s here. Thank you, Nanny,” Lily said, holding out her arms to the infant, who now ceased her crying and looked up at Alicia as Lily cradled her to her bosom.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Alicia said, kneeling next to the chaise lounge and placing her finger gently on Emily’s lips as she smiled down at her.

“And soon to have a brother or sister. Maximilian wants a boy, but I’d be quite happy with girls – a dozen girls,” she said, laughing as Alicia shook her head.

“I thought you hated being with child,” she said, but Lily shook her head.

“Oh, but it’s all worth it when you see them – their smiling faces, the joy they bring. I couldn’t imagine life without her. I do hope you and Ernest…” Lily began, but Alicia interrupted her.

“I don’t think it’ll happen, Lily. You’re very kind, but… I’m sure I’ll meet someone in my own time, at the right time. I’m in no hurry. And think about you and Maximilian. It was hardly expected, was it? You didn’t go out of your way to court his affections. Quite the opposite, in fact,” she said.

Lily and Maximilian’s romance was entirely unexpected. Lily had come to Lancaster in the hope of ruining Maximilian’s father, yet on discovering the truth about him, she had fallen in love with Maximilian, and the rest was history. Love was so often unexpected, it came about under the strangest of circumstances, and Alicia was content to trust the same would be the case for her, too, given time.

“No…I suppose not. But I just want you to be happy, Alicia. You can’t live as a spinster forever, can you?” Lily said.

Alicia shook her head. She knew Lily would not let the matter drop, and if she wanted to invite Isobel to the tea party, so be it. Alicia would smile and converse, she would be pleasant, and when the subject of Ernest was broached, she would speak of how much she had enjoyed their dance together. But as for pushing herself forward and making herself out to be interested in marriage, that was another thing entirely. There were names for the sort of women who sought to further their own position through marriage, and Alicia did not want to gain such a reputation.

“No, but I can live as one a little longer, I think,” she said, as Emily started crying again.

The nanny had been standing patiently in the corner of the room, and now she stepped forward to take the screaming infant in hand.

“I’ll bring her back later, my Lady,” the nanny said, and she took Emily from the room, the child’s crying echoing along the corridor as Lily struggled to her feet and crossed to the window.

“Wait until the tea party, Alicia. You’ll meet Isobel then and be properly introduced. You never know what might happen. I’m sure Ernest hasn’t forgotten you. He’ll be thinking of you at this very moment. How could he not? You’re beautiful, Alicia, and you’ll make him the perfect match,” she said.

Alicia smiled. Lily could be exasperating at times, but she was a good and loyal friend, and Alicia knew she had her best interests at heart.

“It’s very kind of you to say so, Lily,” she replied, even as she felt certain nothing would come of her friend’s well meaning interferences…

Chapter 2

“I don’t know why she’s asked me. I suppose it’s Anne’s doing – taking sympathy on me. But I don’t really want to go. I won’t know anyone, apart from Anne, and these society events can be so dull,” Isobel Howard said, sighing, as she looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace in the drawing room at Leamington Grange.

Her brother, Ernest, laughed. His sister had been complaining about the tea party hosted by Lady Oakley all morning, and it seemed she was trying desperately to find an excuse not to go.

“You might enjoy it. She’s quite a character, isn’t she – Lady Oakley, I mean,” Ernest replied.

He took little interest in societal affairs but had attended the wedding of Lord Maximilian to Lily Edge and had heard rumors of her past colorful life. She had been the writer of scandal sheets in London, and her words had brought down many a fine and apparently respectable family.

“Oh, yes, all that business – I don’t think it’s very nice, though Anne tells me she’s quite the reformed character. She’s heavily with child – I’m surprised she’s playing hostess in such a state. Women usually hide themselves away. Oh… I can’t wear this. I’m going to change,” Isobel exclaimed, and before Ernest could reply, she had rushed out of the drawing room in a fit of panic.

He smiled and shook his head, wondering why a woman as pretty and outgoing as his sister should be worried about a mere tea party.

It’ll be just the same as these things always are, he thought to himself, recalling the days of his childhood when he would sit in a stiffly starched collar at the tea table with his mother and her friends.

As the Duchess of Crawshaw, Ernest’s mother was expected to play host to all manner of societal gatherings, and as heir to the dukedom, Ernest, too, was expected to play his part. But as he had grown older – and wiser – Ernest had found his attentions drawn to philanthropy, and he used this new found interest as an excuse to avoid society as much as he could. The aristocracy were useful for the depth of their pockets, but as for spending time in their company…

“The less the better,” Ernest said to himself, rising to his feet and crossing to the window.

It was late spring, and the gardens of Leamington Grange were bursting into life. His mother prided herself on her garden, and it was tended by a dozen gardeners, the walled kitchen garden being the envy of their neighbors. As he stood looking out across the lawns towards a folly in the distance – a miniature Greek temple built by his great grandfather – Ernest heard the familiar tapping of his father’s stick on the corridor outside the drawing room. The duke was blind, and he used a stick to navigate his way around the house when there was no one to lead him.

“I’m here, Father,” Ernest called out, hurrying to the door, and finding the duke standing in the corridor outside.

“Ah, Ernest, I thought you’d be here. Is your sister there, too?” Ernest’s father asked.

“No…she’s gone to get changed…again,” he said, and the duke laughed.

“Just like your mother. Why can’t these women accept they’re the most beautiful creatures on earth, though I suppose I’m biased. It’s a strange thing, you know. I’ve never set eyes on either your mother or your sister, but I see them vividly, and I know they’re both as beautiful as the other,” he said.

Ernest smiled. His father’s affliction had never held him back, and growing up, Ernest had often forgotten the duke could not see. His other senses were so attuned, it was as though he had a sight beyond that of the eyes, and he was often the first to anticipate or realize what was happening around them – a distant sound or a scent. When Leamington Grange had suffered a fire in the dining room, it was the duke who had smelled it first, alerting the servants and saving the house from certain catastrophe. But it was not only the physical senses with which he was endowed, and his perceptions often went far beyond those of others.

“And she did look beautiful, Father. But she’s worried about making the right impression. You know how she is,” Ernest said.

He loved his sister dearly, but he wished she would have more confidence in herself. She was pretty, intelligent, and loyal, but so often she felt herself eclipsed by women whose voices were far louder than the depth of their person. Isobel could be shy and retiring, but when she blossomed, it was a delight to see.

“And she need have no worry in such matters. A red dress, a blue dress, it hardly matters, does it?” the duke replied.

Ernest smiled. It certainly did not matter to his father – he could see neither red nor blue. But to Isobel, appearances were important, and Ernest knew she would worry incessantly until the tea party was over. Footsteps now sounded in the corridor, and the door opened, revealing Isobel in a peacock blue dress. She looked at Ernest hesitantly.

“Is it all right?” she asked.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” the duke said, and Isobel blushed.

“Oh, Father…you’re so kind. I don’t think I do, but if you say so,” she said, glancing at Ernest, who smiled.

“Father’s right, Isobel. You look a picture. It’s a lovely dress. Weren’t you wearing it at the assembly rooms ball the other evening?” he asked.

At these words, Isobel’s eyes grew wide with fear.

“Oh, heavens, I was. They’ll all see. They’ll think I’ve got no other dresses but this one. I’ll have to change,” she exclaimed, but Ernest shook his head and folded his arms.

“No, Isobel. You’ll wear that one. It looks perfectly fine to me. You look perfectly fine – more so, you look beautiful,” Ernest said.

He was not about to allow his sister to think less of herself in the eyes of the ton. There was no reason for her to change her dress. No one would notice, and if they did, they should be ashamed of themselves. Isobel sighed.

“Oh, I wish I didn’t worry so much about everything. I just think…about what they’ll think,” she said, looking suddenly forlorn.

“Well, don’t think about it. Anyway, you’ve not got time to change again. It’s nearly two o’clock. Hadn’t you better be going?” Ernest asked, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.

Isobel shrieked, clutching her hands to her face.

“Oh, I’ll be late. But won’t you come with me, Ernest? I’d feel so much better if you did,” she said, her expression becoming imploring.

Ernest laughed.

“What? And sit around with a group of gossiping aristocratic women for the afternoon? I don’t think so. Besides, I’ve not been invited, and I’ve got work to do,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Most of them are unmarried, I think – just Lily and Anne, they’re the wives. The rest are spinsters,” Isobel said, as though this would somehow persuade Ernest to accompany her.

Ernest made a face. He certainly had no desire to accompany his sister on such an excursion. He had no intention of courting spinsters – the very thought of it horrified him. Ernest had given little thought to marriage. He enjoyed the company of women when it suited him, but always on his own terms, and he was not about to be the object of their interest over tea and scones.

“I don’t care what they are. I’m staying here. Now, you’d better go, or you’ll be late,” he said, and Isobel laughed.

“Very well. Send me into the lion’s den all alone. What do you think of that, Father? He’s hardly my knight in shining armor, is he?” she said, and the duke laughed.

“I think my daughter’s capable of taking care of herself. I hope you have a wonderful afternoon, my darling,” he said, raising his hand and waving across the drawing room.

Isobel smiled, nodding to Ernest, before leaving the room. He shook his head and laughed.

“I wish she’d gain some confidence, Father. What can we do to help her?” he asked, but the duke only shrugged.

“A woman needs to find her place, I suppose. I don’t know what we can do. Marry her off – that’s what lesser men would do. But I’m not prepared to do that. If she marries, I want it to be for love and nothing less. I won’t have my daughter living an unhappy life. I came too close to that myself. No, I want both my children to be happy. I’m proud of you both, Ernest,” the duke said, and Ernest smiled.

It had not always been thus, but it gladdened his heart to hear his father say as much. The duke had always tried to instill the values of hard work and determination into both of his children, and Ernest wanted to make him proud, knowing he would one day inherit his father’s title.

“That’s kind of you to say, Father,” Ernest replied, sitting down opposite his father, who now looked straight at him, even as his eyes were blank.

“You’ve done something quite remarkable in Manchester, Ernest. A school for blind children. It’s unheard of. I count myself lucky to have been born into wealth and privilege. My affliction was always something that could be managed. But to be born blind into poverty… I can only imagine how terrible that must be,” he said, shaking his head.

Ernest had seen such horrors for himself. In the slums of the cities, a blind child would be a burden, and too often they were sent to the poorhouse, or simply disappeared…Ernest had wanted to do something about it, and the idea of a school, with nurses and helpers, a place where blind children could live together and be educated, had been the solution. With his own inheritance from his grandfather, Ernest had set up a foundation, purchasing a disused house in the center of Manchester and setting about its transformation. He was forever attempting to raise money, and had secured the backing of many notable figures, many of whom were his father’s friends.

“And that’s what we’re trying to solve, Father. To get rid of such disadvantage and ensure every child has the help and support they need. As you say, it’s one thing to be born into privilege, but quite another to find oneself born blind into poverty,” Ernest replied.

He had seen many terrible sights – children abandoned or left to beg on the streets, families evicted from their homes, and mothers forced to choose between feeding themselves or seeing their children starve. There were times when it seemed overwhelming, even as Ernest had done all he could to alleviate the problems. He wanted to leave a legacy, and to make the world a better place for those, like his father, who through no fault of their own, were born blind.

“And that’s why I’m so proud of you, Ernest. You’ve done what others have failed to do. When I was a child, there was nothing for me – only the attentions of a nanny and my family. But that was only possible because of our privilege. And what I have now is part of that privilege, too. But it shows what can be done. Blindness need not be a barrier to a full and happy life. I think back over my own life… I’ve never allowed my affliction to hold me back, and those children deserve the same. It’s the work I should’ve done myself, but I’m proud to think of my son doing it in my place,” he said.

Ernest smiled. He was doing what he was doing because of his father. Had the duke been able to see, Ernest might not have given a second thought to the plight of the blind. But his childhood had been marked by the knowledge his father was different. There were those who had spoken cruelly – openly and behind his back – mocking the duke, and Ernest, too. But Ernest’s father had always taught him to turn the other cheek, and to see the prejudices of others as a fault in themselves and not in the ones they ridiculed.

“I just hope we can make a difference to the lives of the children, father. It’s such a monumental task, but…little by little, perhaps things will change, and blindness need not be such a heavy burden for a child to bear,” Ernest replied.

His father nodded.

“Your mother and I are immensely proud of you, Ernest. But I shouldn’t keep you from whatever tasks you have before you. Did you enjoy the ball at the assembly rooms the other night?” the duke asked, rising to his feet, and taking up his stick.

Ernest had given little thought to the ball, though he had been glad to secure several new backers for the school.

“Yes…it was a pleasant enough evening. I danced with one or two young ladies. They were nice enough. There was one in particular…oh, what was her name? Alicia, yes, that’s right – Alicia Saunders. Her father’s a wine merchant, I think. We danced a waltz together. It was very pleasant,” Ernest said, thinking back to his encounter with the merchant’s daughter.

She had been fascinated to learn more about the school, and Ernest had told her all about his plans for its future.

“Will you see her again?” the duke asked, tapping his stick across the drawing floor as he walked towards the door.

Ernest shook his head. He did not think Alicia would have any interest in him – not in anything more than a social manner, at least. Theirs had been a pleasant exchange, but as for anything more.

“I doubt it. I don’t even know if she resides permanently in the county. But she was very pleasant. I think Isobel knows her vaguely – she’s somehow connected to Anne and William. But then isn’t someone connected in aristocratic circles?” Ernest said, laughing, as his father reached the door.

The duke turned and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s very true. Well, I’m going to find your mother. She’s probably in the garden? Is it still raining? These spring showers can fall without warning,” Ernest’s father said.

Ernest glanced out of the window. He could see his mother in the rose garden, directing the pruning of a large trailing specimen clinging to one of the walls. The rain did not perturb her, and he smiled, watching as she gave orders like the captain of a ship.

“She’s out there, I can see her from here – but she’s in the middle of what looks like a delicate operation, Father,” he said, and the duke laughed.

“Never come between a woman and her roses – not a woman like your mother, anyway. Perhaps I’ll just have a glass of brandy in my study,” he said, and wishing Ernest a good day, he left the drawing room.

Ernest smiled, still watching his mother out of the window. She, like his father, was a remarkable character, and Ernest hoped he possessed, in himself, just a little of them both, even as he was now making his own way in the world.

I suppose I should do some work, he thought to himself.

But his father’s words about the ball had caused him to think back to the evening he had shared with his sister, and as he set about his work, he was surprised to find himself recalling his encounter with Alicia Saunders fondly, and with the hope he might see her again.

“I don’t know why, she’ll hardly be interested in you,” he told himself, shaking his head as he took up his quill to write another letter beginning money for the school.

Chapter 3

“Now, Alicia, you’ll sit here next to me, then we’ll put Anne here, yes…and Isobel can sit next to her. That way it won’t be obvious we’re trying to bring the two of you together in conversation. You and Anne can swap once you’re in the throes of establishing a connection. We’ll put Florence Digby here – she has a funny obsession with being close to the door, it’s some anxiety she has, and next to her…yes, Caroline Pickering,” Lily said, counting the chairs, as maids and footmen scurried back and forth preparing the tea table.

Alicia had arrived early at Lily’s instruction, and the two women had spent the last hour discussing how the subject of Ernest would be broached. Alicia had resigned herself to Lily’s intentions, even as she felt certain they would come to nothing, even as Lily was convinced she had found the perfect way to play matchmaker. They were to take tea in the salon, looking out across the gardens. It was a beautiful day, and the doors onto the terrace were open, the sweet scent of the late spring blooms wafting into the room on the warm breeze.

“Caroline Pickering…she’s the daughter of…” Alicia began, and Lily finished her sentence.

“The Viscount Pickering – he’s a widower, and dotes on Caroline. She gets anything she wants – and she wants a great deal. She’s Florence’s friend, really, but I thought I should invite her. One doesn’t want to make anyone jealous, after all,” Lily said, adjusting the tea cups on the table so the handles all faced precisely the same way.

“Is anyone else coming?” Alicia ventured, though the current list was formidable enough.

Amongst the invitees were the starring names of the county – daughters of dukes and viscounts, the wife of a baron, and Lily herself. Alicia felt somewhat out of place, being merely Miss Alicia Saunders.

“The Marchioness of Ripon, Suzie Hurrell – she’s a sweet creature. Her husband’s ancient. I thought it would be nice to include her. I think she spends most of her time playing bridge with his elderly sisters. But we’ll make sure she has a jolly time today. I just hope they don’t think badly of me – I can hardly fit into this dress, despite what the modiste did to it. I’m getting bigger by the moment. Do you think we’ve got enough food?” Lily asked, glancing at the table, where a mountainous plate of scones had just been deposited by one of the footmen.

Alicia smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that, Lily,” she replied.

Anne was the first to arrive, having been instructed to do so by Lily, and was able to reassure their host she looked perfectly turned out in her flowing purple dress and shawl.

“Everyone knows you’re with child, Lily – no one’s going to mind,” Anne said, glancing at Alicia, and smiling.

“Oh, but I get so worried. I always think people are judging me. I wasn’t born to be a duchess. It’s not always easy to make the impression one wishes for,” Lily replied.

Both Alicia and Anne attempted to reassure her, but it was not long before the first guests arrived – Florence Digby and Caroline Pickering, who had traveled together by carriage.

“What about a beautiful salon. It must be the finest in the county,” Florence exclaimed, gazing around her in awe.

The salon had been decorated in a baroque style, following Lily and Maximilian’s visit to the continent after their wedding. The décor was heavy on winged cherubs in gold, and the ceiling had been painted to depict the breaking of the dawn, with pink tinged clouds greeting the sun. It was not to everyone’s taste – certainly not Alicia’s – but no one would dare say so, of course…

“I designed it myself,” Lily said, greeting the two women with a kiss.

Florence Digby was a large, rotund woman – bigger than Lily, though unmarried and thus, not with child. She had a red, beaming face, and was dressed in blue, with a fascinator adding height to her already substantial frame. Caroline Pickering was her total opposite, a thin woman with a high brown and ringleted hair, drawn back into a bun. She was wearing a white dress with a lace neckline, and pearl earrings to match her necklace. There was an air of slight disdain about her, though she was friendly enough.

“It’s very kind of you to invite us, Lady Oakley. And what a pleasure to come to the house of Burnley Abbey. You’ve certainly made it your own,” she said, glancing around her with a less than approving gaze.

“It was all plain fabrics and peeling wallpaper when we arrived. I said to Maximilian, I simply must redesign it,” she said, inviting the two women to sit down at the tea table.

Next to arrive was the Marchioness of Ripon. She was a pretty creature, very timid looking, and dressed in red. She smiled at them each in turn as Lily introduced her.

“It’s a real pleasure to be here. I don’t often attend such occasions. My husband’s quite ill, you see. I don’t like to leave his side. But bless him, he insisted I did. Margaret – his sister – is sitting with him. I say, what a beautiful room this is,” she said, gazing around her at the ornate cherubs protruding from the ceiling.

“We’re just waiting for Isobel now,” Lily said, taking her place at the head of the table, the others arranged in the seating plan they had earlier decided on.

“Isobel Howard? She’s Ernest Howard’s sister, isn’t she?” Florence said, as a footman stepped forward to pour the tea.

Alicia shifted slightly in her chair, her view blocked by the mountain of scones on the plate in front of her. It seemed Ernest was well known in county circles, though she herself had only heard of him in passing before the ball at the assembly rooms.

“That’s right, the daughter of the Duke of Crawshaw – the blind duke,” Lily said, and the others nodded.

“I’m amazed he’s still unmarried. They say he’s quite the handsomest of men,” the marchioness said, taking a sip of tea.

“Isobel’s a good friend of mine. Her brother’s certainly an eligible man – the heir to the dukedom, a man of charity and philanthropy, not to mention good looks,” Anne said.

Alicia blushed. She felt certain Lily was about to say something about her dancing with Ernest at the ball, but to her relief, Isobel herself was now announced, entering the room with an apologetic exclamation.

“I’m so sorry for being late. I rather underestimated the time it would take. Then there was a herd of sheep on the road up to the estate – the farmer just wouldn’t move them. It was quite an awkward situation. But I’m here now” she said, as Lily rose to greet her.

“Isobel, how nice to see you. We were just discussing your brother,” Lily said, glancing at Alicia, who turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Oh, don’t flatter him – even when he’s not here. I’m sure he’s the talk of every salon in the county,” Lily said, sitting down at the table with a sigh.

More tea was brought, and plates of cakes and scones were handed between the women, each of them demolishing more than their fair share. It was a feast, but Alicia remained quiet, hoping Lily would forget the matter she had so enthusiastically spoken of.

“When’s the child due, Lily? It must be soon,” Caroline said.

“Not soon enough. It should come any day, but it seems to delight in making me wait,” Lily replied, shaking her head.

“I long for a child,” Suzie said, looking suddenly very sad.

Her husband, the Marquess, had been a widower and already had his son and heir. Alicia felt sorry for Suzie, even as she herself did not share such a sentiment or desire.

“You’re always welcome to come here and spend time with my little one. Emily’s a delight,” Lily said, though judging by the expression on Suzie’s face, Alicia did not think it was quite the right thing to say…

Talk now turned to charitable endeavors. It seemed all of the women had some cause or other close to their heart, and once again, Alicia felt somewhat inadequate in comparison.

“It was my mother who got me involved. We just couldn’t bear the thought of it – what an abhorrence. These are human beings, snatched from their homelands, and taken thousands of miles across the Atlantic to work as slaves. We simply had to do something. It should be abolished at once,” Florence said.

She was heavily involved in a campaign to end slavery, and she and her mother were constantly petitioning the great and the good for the matter to be debated in parliament. The marchioness did good works amongst fallen women in Lancaster, whilst Anne has thrown herself into helping widowers without means to send their sons to good schools. Only Caroline Pickering seemed without a cause, and when questioned by Lily, she turned the matter towards Isobel.

“But of course none of us can compete with Isobel, or should I say, her brother,” she said, taking a sip of tea and looking pointedly at Isobel, who blushed.

“I can’t take any of the credit, though I do help my brother with one or two small tasks by way of contribution. No, it’s entirely his doing – the school for the blind children in Manchester, and he hopes to open another one soon, too,” she said.

The other women nodded approvingly, and Lily glanced at Alicia, who shifted awkwardly in her chair and turned her attentions to the remnants of the tea table.

“I think it’s admirable. It’s just what the aristocracy should be doing. I used to think my family were merely the idle rich, but when I see the things my father-in-law does to help others, and the things Maximilian and William do, too. They’re philanthropists. They’re always trying to help others,” Lily said, and Isobel nodded.

“You’re right – privilege should mean duty. My brother sees that. It wasn’t always the case, of course. But he’s grown into a fine man. We’re so proud of him,” Isobel said, smiling, as she helped herself to another scone.

Alicia’s heart was beating fast. She knew Lily was poised to speak, and decided to preempt her, knowing the matter would be revealed one way or another.

“He told me a great deal about it when we danced together at the assembly rooms ball,” she blurted out, and Isobel looked at her in surprise.

“Oh…did he? I’m sure he did…it’s all he ever talks about, really. He’s so taken up by it all. It was all his idea, you see,” she said.

Alicia was unsure of what to say next. She had enjoyed her conversation with Ernest, though she had not expected ever to recount it, nor had she realized just how popular the heir to the Duke of Crawshaw was amongst women of a certain type. Caroline Pickering raised her eyebrows.

“He danced with you, did he? Well…aren’t you the favored one, Miss Saunders,” she said, emphasizing the “miss.”

Her tone was lighthearted, though there was something of a challenge behind it, and Alicia wondered if she was not stepping into another woman’s territory. Did Caroline Pickering have designs on Crawshaw heir?

“It was just a dance, but very pleasant. He told me all about the school for blind children. I was very impressed. I’m going to ask my father to make a subscription,” she said, and Isobel clapped her hands together in delight.

“Oh, are you really? He’ll be delighted about that. He works so hard, but it’s always an uphill struggle to raise the money. You should come and call on us at Leamington Grange, Alicia. I’m sure my brother would like to meet you again,” she said.

Alicia blushed, knowing just what Lily was thinking. Her plan had worked perfectly, even as Alicia had expected it to fail spectacularly, and it seemed she now had an open invitation to meet the man she had thought would not remember her at all.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you,” Alicia replied.

“She’d be delighted, wouldn’t you, Alicia?” Lily said.

Caroline looked thunderous, even as she forced herself to smile, and Alicia knew she had said entirely the wrong thing in making her association with Ernest known.

“And we’d be delighted. Perhaps your father could come, too. I’m sure he’d like to hear more about where his investment is going. It’s good to know the merchant classes share our philanthropic principles,” Isobel said.

Alicia smiled. She knew Isobel was not being purposefully insulting, even as her words reminded Alicia of her lowly status compared to the others. But as the conversation turned to other topics, and even as Caroline Pickering continued to look angrily across the table at her, Alicia could not help but feel a certain delight in the prospect of seeing Ernest again. She had not expected the invitation to come so easily, nor had she wished to appear as though she was forcing the matter. But Isobel had been insistent, and when the tea party came to an end, she reiterated her invitation.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” Alicia said, as the women wished one another goodbye, and Isobel leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

“You must come to our garden party on Friday, and bring your father and mother, too. My father gives a garden party at the start of the season, you’d be very welcome. We’ll all be there,” she said, looking hopefully at Alicia, who knew she could not refuse such kindness, even as she felt awkward in accepting.

“That’s…very kind of you,” she said, and Isobel smiled.

“I’m so glad to hear it. I’ll send the details to Lily – we’ll see you on Friday, goodbye,” she said, filing out of the drawing room in the company of the other women, and leaving Lily and Alicia alone.

“There, what did I tell you?” Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.

Alicia smiled. She had not meant for it to happen like that, but it seemed fate had intervened, and she was destined to meet with Ernest again.

“It’s only a garden party, and I doubt he’ll be interested in saying more than a few words to me,” she replied, but secretly, Alicia was pleased.

She had enjoyed dancing with Ernest, and the thought of seeing him again was certainly a pleasing one…

Chapter 4

“They’re all coming, I think – it’s the draw of a conversation with you, Ernest,” Isobel said, and Ernest laughed.

It was the day of the garden part, and Leamington Grange was a flurry of activity. A marquee had been erected on the lawn, and the footmen were busy carrying tables and chairs from the house, whilst maids hurried back and forth with plates of dainty cakes and sandwiches. Ernest and Isobel were surveying the scene. There had been an annual garden party at Leamington Grange ever since either of them could remember, a tradition begun by their mother, and now continued by Ernest and his sister.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Isobel. No one wants to talk to me,” Ernest replied, and his sister laughed.

“Nonsense. Don’t you know how popular you are in the salons? They’re all talking about you,” she said, and Ernest groaned.

He did not wish to be the center of attention, though if it meant more money for the school, so be it. He planned to announce plans for expansion that day, having come across the family in Lancaster with a blind child they were struggling to bring up. Ernest had given them money for the boy’s schooling, but it seemed there was a need for a school here, too, and Ernest intended to see that need realized.

“I don’t relish the fact,” he replied, and his sister smiled.

“But you wouldn’t turn them away, would you? If a woman whom you liked showed an interest…” she said, and Ernest blushed.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Besides, I’ve got more important things to think about today,” he replied, and his sister rolled her eyes.

“Well, I happen to know several of the women coming today are interested in speaking to you. Make sure you find the time,” Isobel said.

“Do you mean Caroline Pickering? I don’t want to find myself cornered by her. She can be…very persuasive,” Ernest said, thinking back to a previous encounter with the daughter of the Viscount Pickering.

She was a formidable woman, and Ernest had felt somewhat intimidated by her overbearing presence.

“She’ll be here, yes, and Alicia Saunders, too – she’s a friend of Lady Oakley, the one I went to tea with the other day. I asked Anne to bring them both. You can talk to her – you liked talking to her before. She was full of praise for you,” Isobel said, raising her eyebrows and smiling.

Ernest made a face. He did not like it when his sister played at matchmaking, even as he could not help but feel just a little intrigued as to the thought of meeting Alicia again. She had been in his thoughts, and he had mulled their conversation over in his mind several times since the night of the assembly room’s ball.

“Well…I’m flattered, I’m sure. I only told her the facts. But look, Father and Mother are here now,” Ernest said, pointing to the terrace, where the duchess was leading the duke by the arm.

“Oh, I’d better go and change. I don’t like this dress,” Isobel said, but Ernest caught her arm.

“You don’t need to change, Isobel. You’re fine as you are. It won’t be long until the guests arrive, and I need you to talk to the dull ones,” he said.

His sister laughed, but she remained at his side, and now their parents came to join them.

“I can smell a dozen different flowers – the garden must be blooming by now, and isn’t it nice to feel the sun on one’s face,” the duke said, as Isobel slipped her arm into his.

“Come, Father – let’s raid the tea table before the plague of locusts arrive. I asked the cook to prepare those delicious tartlets you like so much,” she said, leading the duke towards the marquee.

Ernest was left alone with his mother, Grace. The duchess smiled at him.

“I must say, it’s nice to come to the garden and not have to organize anything myself. You and Isobel have done a marvelous job, Ernest. I hope you get plenty of support for your new endeavor,” she said.

“I hope so, too, Mother. It all depends on the generosity of the ton, but I’m sure I can persuade them,” he said, and his mother nodded.

“If anyone can persuade them, it’s you, Ernest. You managed it in Manchester, and you’ll manage it here. We’re very proud of you, after…well, you’ve done a great deal to make things better for yourself,” she said, and Ernest nodded.

He was proud of himself, and having made mistakes in the past, Ernest was keen to make amends. The school for blind children was just the thing to salve his conscience and give him a reason for waking up each morning. His mind was focused on the project at hand, and Ernest was determined to do all he could to realize it. Coming back to Lancashire had been just the right decision – a new start, and new opportunities.

“Thank you, Mother. I was touched when Father told me he was proud of me. That meant a great deal. And I’m so very grateful to you both. I really am,” Ernest said.

His mother smiled and slipped her hand into his.

“I know it hasn’t always been easy for you, Ernest. Growing up, your father’s affliction wasn’t understood, and other people were cruel. But you’ve done so much to take away the stigma of blindness – particularly in children. It’s admirable,” she said, just as voices on the terrace announced the arrival of the first guests.

Ernest turned to find a sudden influx of the great and the good of the county’s society entering the garden. There was much delighted exclamation at the sight of the flower beds in bloom and the abundant tea tables. Drinks were soon being circulated, and the ton settled into doing what they did best – having the same conversations as they had done at the previous social gathering, and the one before that. Opinions were exchanged, actions were debated, and news – or, rather, gossip – was shared. Ernest flitted from group to group, thanking them for coming and wishing them a pleasant afternoon.

“It’s really very good of you to invite us, Ernest. I must speak to your father before the end of the afternoon. I’ve got a proposal for him – dull business for the House of Lords, but it’s got to be done. I want to make a donation, though,” Ralph Oakley, the Duke of Lancaster, said, catching Ernest’s arm as he passed.

“That would be very kind of you, Your Grace. And might you consider sitting on the board of governors for the school I hope to establish here in Lancashire? Your patronage would make a considerable difference, I’m sure,” Ernest said.

The duke smiled.

“I’d be delighted, and I’m sure either William or Maximilian would be willing to do so, too,” he said.

Ernest thanked him, glancing over the duke’s shoulder and catching the eye of the woman he had danced with at the assembly room’s ball. She was a pretty creature, with blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders in ringlets, and a rosy-cheeked face with dark brown eyes. She was wearing a peacock blue dress, and looked extremely attractive standing next to Lily, Maximilian’s wife, and the Duchess of Lancaster, Miriam Oakley.

“Oh…that’s very kind of you, your Grace,” Ernest stammered, distracted for a moment by Alicia’s smile.

He excused himself, hurrying across the garden to where his sister was directing the servants to bring out the next round of refreshments.

“I think it’s going very well so far. I do love garden parties – in the sunshine, at least,” Isobel said.

Ernest smiled, glancing back over his shoulder to where Alicia now had her back turned to him, in conversation with Lily and Maximilian.

“Oh…yes, it’s going very well, isn’t it?” he said, and his sister smiled.

“Have you spoken to her yet?” she asked, and Ernest shook his head.

“No, I’ve been too busy,” he replied, and Isobel rolled her eyes.

“Oh, just do it, Ernest. You don’t need anyone’s permission, and certainly not Caroline’s, if that’s who you’re worried about,” she said.

Ernest had not yet spoken to the viscount’s daughter, either, though he knew he would have no choice but to do so before the afternoon was over. She had arrived with a grand entrance on her father’s arm, wearing a long, flowing yellow dress, and carrying a large parasol in hand. Ernest had no desire to speak to her, even as he knew she had the power to see his project for a school in Lancaster come to completion. Her father was amongst the richest men in England and had already done much to sponsor the school in Manchester. Speaking to her would be unavoidable, even as he now walked behind the marquee to avoid her…

* * *

“I saw you looking at him, Alicia, and he looked at you, too,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows as Lily blushed.

“He was just being friendly. A smile doesn’t mean a courtship,” she said, and Lily sighed.

“A smile alone doesn’t mean a courtship, but a dance, a smile, a conversation, a compliment…all these things matter. It’s the little things that lead to the large things. Don’t you think so?” she said.

They had stepped away from the rest of the Oakley family and were talking quietly by the entrance to the marquee. Alicia had enjoyed the afternoon, even as she had found Lily’s constant agitations over Ernest somewhat trying. It seemed Lily was determined to make a match, and with Isobel having provided the perfect social setting, there would be little choice for Alicia but to allow herself to be carried along by the possibility of a further introduction to Ernest.

“I suppose so, but he’s busy – he’s going to announce something, Isobel said – something about a new school in Lancaster. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Alicia said.

Her father had agreed to make a substantial donation to the project, as had Maximilian, William, and the Duke of Lancaster. It seemed the plight of the blind children had touched the hearts of many, and there was a genuine desire to see the project established.

“Oh, yes, but that won’t take long. Why don’t you get us both a glass of punch. I’ll go and look for him,” Lily said, and before Alicia could protest, Lily had hurried off in search of Ernest.

Alicia sighed. There could be no persuading Lily – once she had an idea in her mind, she was like a horse chomping at the bit. Alicia made her way into the marquee. It was open at both ends and attended by several footmen.

“Two glasses of punch, please,” Alicia said, and the footman poured out the two glasses with a ladle from an enormous punchbowl on a table decorated with flowers.

The refreshments had been delicious – all manner of dainty cakes, sandwiches, and morsels. Alicia thanked the footman, but instead of making her way back out to where the guests were congregated, she made for the open back door of the marquee, hoping for a few moments’ respite from Lily’s attentions. She did not resent her friend for her efforts, but she was simply not interested in pursuing a man who clearly had more important things to think about than courting a vague acquaintance like her.

Why would he be interested? she thought to herself, shaking her head.

But as she emerged from the marquee, her thoughts distracted by her frustrations at Lily, she collided head on with a figure coming the other way. The glasses of punch flew into the air, covering the man with the sweet-smelling liquid, as Alicia let out a cry.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Alicia exclaimed, realizing to her horror who it was she had just covered in punch.

Ernest smiled, stepping back, his shirt and cravat now stained red. He looked down at himself and laughed.

“Well, I suppose it’s better to be turned red this way than stabbed. I’m sorry, Miss Saunders, it was my fault. I didn’t see you. I was thinking about…well, something else. You’re not similarly covered, are you?” he asked,” and Alicia shook her head.

The punch had gone forward, and the soaking was entirely his. She blushed with embarrassment, feeling terrible for what she had done, even as she could see he was treating the whole thing with amusement.

“No…but look at your shirt. It’s completely ruined. I’m so sorry. I was daydreaming, and…” she said, blushing as much at the object of her daydreams as her encounter with that object.

“There’s no harm done. I can slip inside and change my shirt. It’ll give me an excuse to get away. I don’t really like these sorts of things. That’s why I’m hiding back here, I suppose. I detest talking to people… I mean, not that I detest talking to you, but…” he said, looking suddenly embarrassed.

“I understand. I often feel out of place at these sorts of gatherings. Everyone’s got a title but me,” she said, revealing her insecurities to him.

He looked at her sympathetically and shook his head.

“There’s really no need to feel like that, Miss Saunders, though some of the people here can be terrible snobs. But one has to tolerate them – I need their money,” he said, raising his eyebrows, and Alicia laughed.

“I’m sure you can be very persuasive, my Lord. I asked my father to give a donation and he was more than happy to do so. I believe a lot of people are doing so. It’s an admirable cause,” she said, and Ernest smiled.

“It’s good of you to say so, Miss Saunders. Not everyone understands it, of course. They question the point of educating children who can’t see – they ask what possible contribution they can make. But the answer’s clear – an educated child, whether blind or not, can make a difference. My father’s living proof of that. He’s my inspiration, you see. I’m doing what I’m doing because of him,” he said.

Alicia could not help but admire Ernest in turn – he was an inspiration, and Alicia felt a sudden and strong desire to do something to help, even as it seemed the duke did not recall the two of them having danced at the assembly rooms ball. At this thought, she felt something of a disappointment, even as the duke could not possibly be expected to remember everyone he had met or danced with. But as their conversation continued, the two of them hidden behind the marquee, Alicia could not help but be caught up in the pleasantness of his company, and whilst she felt embarrassed at having covered him in punch, she wondered if there was not something providential in this unexpected encounter.

 

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