A Family of Her Own by Rose Pearson
Chapter Ten
Claveston spoke only briefly with his father before the duke got back into his carriage and returned to London. Mrs. Grint caught him in the hallway as his father’s carriage crunched out of sight and told him of the scene with Gertrude, and the duke’s private talk with Miss Lefebvre in his study. She had also told him that Miss Lefebvre had hurried away from the house looking just as upset as his sister had been before her. He had dithered for a moment, wondering which of the young women he should go to first.
He glanced outside and heard a scream. He rushed towards it, then stopped as he saw Cormick heading in the same direction. Claveston stood perfectly still as he watched his friend greet Miss Lefebvre. He waited, expecting them both to return to the house. Miss Lefebvre would not speak alone in the woods with a gentleman. She knew better than to risk her reputation that way. But time ticked by and still they talked together, smiling and laughing. He felt a surge of fury course through him. He had not welcomed Cormick into his home, for him to get in the way of Claveston’s intentions towards Miss Lefebvre.
But what were his intentions? Claveston knew he liked her. He knew that she was nothing like any woman he had ever known before. She was unfazed by his wealth and position. She cared nothing for possessions and displays of grandeur. She liked the simple things, a good book, a fine meal, and good company. It was no wonder she enjoyed talking with Cormick. The man was the most genial companion Claveston had – and he was unaffected by his father’s wealth and status, and the expectations upon him, though he had no title and no estate to inherit. As he watched his friend and the woman he was coming to love, he was envious of them both. They would make a fine match.
He turned on his heel and went back inside. His sister needed him, even if Miss Lefebvre did not. Gertrude had been doing so well, up until his mother had announced her imminent departure. To have Papa return home and then turn around and leave immediately would have been too much for her to bear. He rushed up the stairs and found her peering out of the window in Miss Lefebvre’s parlor, looking out over the formal gardens, down towards the woods. She had red, puffy eyes and streaks upon her cheeks.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked her as he sat down and hugged her tightly. “These are Miss Lefebvre’s private chambers.”
“I know. I saw her run out of the house from my own window. She headed this way,” Gertrude said, nodding towards the woodland. “She looked very upset.”
“I believe Papa spoke with her before he left,” Claveston said, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, poor Miss Lefebvre,” Gertrude said. “He no doubt blamed her for my bad behavior.”
“I am sure he probably did,” Claveston agreed. “Are you quite alright, little one? You must have been so excited to see him.”
“I was,” Gertrude admitted. “And I so wanted Mama to be with me in London, and she is leaving tomorrow. Did she tell you?”
Claveston shook his head. He’d not seen the duchess since dinner last night, and she’d certainly made no mention of it then. “You do know, you will always have me, don’t you?” he assured her. “I will always be nearby if you need me – and if I am away, all you need do is send for me.”
“I do,” Gertrude said, but it didn’t sound like she believed him. “And I have Sophie.” She paused and glanced back out of the window again, to where Sophie and Cormick had been talking just moments earlier. “Do you think she will stay? She seems awfully friendly with Mr. Cormick.”
Claveston sighed heavily. They were back to this once more. Poor Gertrude. All she had ever known was people leaving her as soon as she grew fond of them. “I do not think you need worry about that. Miss Lefebvre is friendly to everyone, and Cormick, well I am certain he has no intentions of stealing her away from you. She is very fond of you, and we are both extremely proud of all you have accomplished, you know.”
Gertrude squirmed away from him. “I do.” She peered out of the window again. “She promised she wouldn’t leave me. Perhaps I should go and check on her?”
“I’m sure she is quite alright,” Claveston assured her. “You wash your face and put on a pretty dress, then come downstairs. Perhaps we can play some croquet?”
“I should like that; it is such a lovely day. I should fetch my paints and my easel, too. We were painting the house when Papa arrived. I completely forgot. They are most likely still there.”
“That would be a great help to Miss Lefebvre,” Claveston said standing up and then pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Claveston made his way downstairs and fetched the croquet set from the hallway cupboard. It was hidden beneath the grand staircase and was full of all manner of sporting equipment, parasols, and other items that the family used when the weather was fine.
He went outside and began setting up the hoops on the lawn. Gertrude soon followed him outside, and true to her word, tidied away her art materials first before she joined him on the lawn. She bounced back outside. “I have ordered lemonade for us,” she said as she took a mallet from him. One of the footmen followed her, carrying a small cast iron table, and the kitchen lad followed on with two chairs.
“I tried to find Miss Lefebvre, to ask if she cared to join us, but I cannot find her anywhere,” Gertrude said, as she indicated where her helpers should set down their load.
“That is a shame, but it is rather nice to have you all to myself for an hour or two,” Claveston said.
They began their game. Croquet was one of Gertrude’s favorite pastimes. She was fiercely competitive, and Claveston wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t of a mind to cheat when the need arose. But they enjoyed a spirited game, that his sister won by a whisker. He congratulated her, then noticed that Miss Lefebvre was heading towards them with a tray of refreshments. He hurried to help her. “Are you alright?” he asked her as he took the tray from her.
“I am,” she assured him. “Mr. Cormick was kind enough to check on me.”
“He seems quite partial to you,” Claveston said, trying to sound as if such a thing made no difference to him.
“He ‘as been most kind, but I do not think there is anything more to it than that,” Miss Lefebvre said as they drew near to Gertrude.
Claveston set the tray down upon the table, and Gertrude immediately helped herself to a glass of lemonade. She gulped it down without thinking. Sophie frowned at her as she set the glass back onto the tray. “I know, I know,” Gertrude said rolling her eyes. “I should have waited for Claveston to pull out my seat, and until everyone else was seated before I offered to serve them first. But I am fashed, and it is so hot this afternoon.”
It was Claveston’s turn to frown at her this time. “And I know I shouldn’t say fashed,” she said. Claveston and Miss Lefebvre couldn’t help themselves, they both started to giggle. “What?” Gertrude demanded, looking put out that she seemed to be the butt of their joke.
“It is that you know precisely what you should do, yet you still do the opposite,” Claveston said fondly. “It is of no mind when it is just us, but you must remember when you are in London, Gertrude.”
“I know,” Gertrude said in a mocking sing-song tone. “Or I shall damage the family name and all my prospects for a good marriage.”
“Are you mocking Mama?” Claveston said, pretending to be aghast.
“Perhaps a little,” Gertrude admitted. “I am sick of hearing it, over and over.”
“Well, I care little for any damage you do to the family name,” he assured her. “But I do care for any you might do to your own, or to Miss Lefebvre’s.”
“You are right, of course. I should never wish to hurt Sophie,” Gertrude said, turning to her with wide eyes. “She has been the perfect companion.”
They all smiled, but Claveston could see that Miss Lefebvre was both touched and slightly embarrassed by the praise. “Well, if you are fashed, dear sister, perhaps I should challenge Miss Lefebvre to a match?”
“Perhaps you should,” she said, pouring herself another glass of lemonade and sitting down at the table. “Sophie, you must beat him. He can be a terrible bore if he wins.”
“I shall try my best,” Miss Lefebvre said with a gentle smile.
Playing croquet with Miss Lefebvre was a pleasure. She was not so openly competitive as Gertrude, but she went about her business with quiet competence, and Claveston was surprised to find himself quite a ways behind. It didn’t help that she looked so perfectly intent when she lined up her mallet to the ball, looking carefully from the ball to the hoop and back, adjusting her stance and her grip, then striking the ball cleanly.
Gertrude had kept up her incessant chatter through the early part of the game, but she seemed to have grown bored, and was glancing around the gardens, as if looking for something or someone more interesting. Claveston wondered if she would ever truly master the skills a young lady needed to possess in Society. She was too impatient, too unruly. Unlike Miss Lefebvre, who made it all look so effortless. She was so graceful at whatever she did. She knew when to duck her head or shield her eyes. She painted better than many artists whose work Claveston had seen in the galleries of some of the finest homes in the country. And she played the pianoforte so beautifully that he could hardly bear it.
“Sit up straight,” he called to Gertrude. She scowled, stuck out her tongue at him, and continued to slouch.
“She knows not to do such things in company,” Miss Lefebvre assured him. “I ‘ave no concerns for her, other than her temperament.”
“She is a little fiery,” Claveston agreed. “She is too used to getting her own way. She does not take well to direction – and I think sometimes she gets angry simply to get our attention.”
“I think you may be quite right,” Miss Lefebvre agreed. “I think much of her behavior is an attempt to be seen by those who may never truly see her.”
“Our parents.”
“Indeed.”
“They will not ever change,” Claveston said with a heavy sigh. “At some point, Gertrude must learn to bear that.”
“I agree, but it is not a lesson that I can teach her,” Miss Lefebvre said sadly. “It is something she will learn, in time. At least, I hope she will. Perhaps, she will find someone who will love her enough to make up for all of it.”
“He’d need the patience of a saint,” Claveston joked.
“No, just a warm heart,” Miss Lefebvre said softly.
Their game continued, and Claveston began to catch up as Miss Lefebvre made some silly mistakes. He teased her and they laughed about it, all the while, Gertrude looked more and more bored. She stood up. “I think I should go inside. I did not bring a parasol, and Mama would be most upset if my skin were to get too dark.”
Claveston suppressed the urge to tell her off. He had been genuinely enjoying the afternoon and now it would need to be cut short, as it would be improper for him to remain out here alone with Miss Lefebvre. Yet, she was right. Mama would be most annoyed if her daughter arrived in London looking like a servant girl, her skin dark from the sun.
“I shall see to it that everything is brought inside,” he assured Miss Lefebvre, who had moved towards the table and was tidying the plates and glasses onto the tray.
“Thank you,” she said and followed her young charge inside.
Claveston stood still for a few moments, just watching her walk. Her hips swayed ever so slightly, her steps light – as if she was walking on air. He had barely noticed how much she had come to mean to him since she had been here. He had admired her from the first, when they met at Lord Cott’s marriage to Lady Mary. He had realized what a treasure she would be to his household when they’d met again at Watton Hall at Christmas. But he had not known that she would creep into his heart so easily.
Miss Sophie Lefebvre would make him a perfect wife. She had all the attributes, and more, that his parents might demand in a bride for him. She was beautiful, sweet, kind, and clever. She behaved impeccably in almost every situation. He chuckled as he remembered her dressing Lady Honoria down all those weeks ago. She had been unhappy in that company, and she had not cared if they approved of her or not – and so she had done what any good friend should and had stood by those she loved.
She had made him realize that he wasn’t as good a friend as he should be – because it should have been him saying those things. He knew that he would never be so timid now. He knew that he did not need the approval of any member of the Ton – because the only person’s approval he would ever seek, would be hers.
