A Family of Her Own by Rose Pearson
Chapter Two
Compton Hall, Hertfordshire
The image staring back at Claveston St. John was that of a fine figure of a man. The new green velvet jacket and matching silk waistcoat went well with his cream breeches and new silk cravat. He’d heard others call him a dandy, and he didn’t mind that. Clothes made the man, did they not? And if so, his were made by the finest tailor in London, of the best fabrics. Beau Brummel himself would be proud to cut such a dashing figure.
Claveston was determined to make the best impression on Miss Sophie Lefebvre upon her arrival, and there was no expense too great for that. He smoothed his black hair and ran a hand over his sideburns to ensure they were neat. An unkempt appearance was hardly suitable for a first meeting, and that was what Claveston considered this to be, despite having met Miss Lefebvre before. This was a new start.
“Mrs. Grint, has there been any sign of a carriage?”
“No,” the doughty housekeeper said, looking him up and down and rolling her eyes with amusement. “But they’ll be here soon enough.” Claveston chose to ignore the impertinence. Mrs. Grint had been with the family for longer than he could remember. She had never seemed to grow any older in that time, or perhaps he had simply frozen her image. He would never know – but she had been the one constant in his life, and he was very fond of her.
Compton Hall had been built by Claveston’s grandfather. It had more than forty rooms, including four drawing rooms - so that at least one might get the best of the sun at any time of day or year. It was surrounded by acres of parkland and woodlands for hunting, all landscaped in the latest style. At least one wing of the vast mansion was always being re-decorated at any time, as Mama liked to keep up with the latest fashions, though she was barely ever present to enjoy the fruits of her imagination.
Claveston felt peculiarly invigorated today, as he headed towards the only drawing room with a view out over the long and winding driveway from the road to the hall. A grin played on his lips as he thought of Miss Lefebvre's arrival. Ever since her first letter, he had looked forward to the moment when he would be able to introduce her to his family and show her his home. It had been of little moment to get his father to agree to her coming, after all the hall and the estate would one day be his, and Papa was rarely present to know who worked for him.
This particular drawing-room was decorated in a more manly fashion than the others, and so Claveston tended to use it, even when the sun wasn’t kind enough to bless it with full and glorious light. Gold damask wallpaper adorned the drawing-room walls, which were covered with large paintings of Claveston’s many accomplished and intriguing ancestors. A large, patterned carpet covered the entire floor. Father had brought it back from one of his many trips overseas. It had cost a small fortune and had been the envy of the Ton when it had arrived.
There were four doors into the room: one from the cavernous hallway, where a grand staircase wound up from either side of the hallway, meeting at a wide balcony at the first floor; another from the Yew Room, which was a library filled with marquetry work done by the finest craftsmen; one from his father’s study; and french doors that led outside onto a terrace with an ornamental stone balustrade.
Claveston collected the book he’d left on the table beside the sofa and sat down, crossed his legs and relaxed back to read. The sofa, like the other upholstered furniture in this room was all covered with black velvet, with embroidery in gold thread to match the wallpaper. It could have been ostentatious, gauche even – but Mama’s exquisite taste somehow made it seem tasteful and opulent.
The room was filled with all kinds of odd trinkets, pieces of furniture, and oddments that his father had brought home from his travels. A beautifully painted armoire from China to a cigar box from France, a silver thimble to a huge, turning globe that sat untouched in the corner of the room. Nobody but Papa had any real desire to travel and see the world, and so when he pointed to the places he’d been, his family feigned interest but didn’t really care.
Claveston tried to focus on what he was reading but gave up after repeating the same sentence several times. His mind was simply too preoccupied. He set the book aside and walked out onto the terrace to see if there was any sign of the carriage. There was not. He checked his pocket watch and noted that Miss Lefebvre was fifteen minutes past due. He tutted under his breath and paced a little to try and get rid of some of his restless energy.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his face to the sun and closed his eyes. It was a refreshing day, with bright sunshine and just a hint of a cooling breeze. It was the perfect weather for traveling. Miss Lefebvre should have been early, not late, on a day such as this.
The doors clicked behind him and before he could turn around, he felt the slender arms of his sister, Gertrude, wrap around his middle. “Claveston,” she declared happily as he turned and embraced her warmly.
“Gertrude,” he said, laughing. “You would think you have not seen me in a year, and not simply overnight, you must learn to curb your delight in seeing me. I do not deserve it.”
“Am I too excited?” Gertrude said brightly, turning slightly so she might peer down the driveway as well. “I cannot help it. Miss Lefebvre comes today, and I can hardly wait to meet her.”
“I am glad you are so pleased about it,” Claveston said with a wry smile. Gertrude was rarely happy about any new attempt to curb her more boisterous ways. She had gone out of her way to upset and drive off more nannies and governesses than Claveston wished to count.
“Oh, thank you so much for finding her for me,” Gertrude continued. “It is the most wonderful gift to have a companion of my own. All of the girls of my acquaintance have one, but Miss Lefebvre will be the most wonderful of them all, as she is more accomplished than all of their companions put together.”
There was a certain joy that came from making his sister happy. He’d spent most of his life with that sole motivation. Their parents, generous and loving as they were, often had other things to occupy them - and were often far away when their children needed them most.
When he was a boy, Claveston had indulged himself in their gifts and the company of the boys at school. The friendships he had made with people like James and William had seen him through some tough times, and their friendships would last his entire life. But Gertrude didn’t have such a luxury. Young women did not go away to school or university as he had. For her, nannies and governesses had come and gone, citing one reason or another for their departure, most saying that Gertrude was too unruly and that there was nothing more they might do to help her.
His sister was a wonderful girl but had been too often left alone. Where school and university had given Claveston structure and rules, Gertrude had grown up spoiled and inclined to have her own way. She was more than a little stubborn, but all she truly longed for was to be loved. Claveston prayed with all his heart that Miss Lefebvre would not only give her a guide into womanhood but that she would also become Gertrude’s friend and confidante, as she was with Charlotte. Gertrude needed that more than anything.
“I’m glad you are pleased with my choice. I hope you will be even more so once you meet her.”
“How could I not be when you have chosen her?” Gertrude said, looking up at him with a grin. “My brother has the most wonderful taste of anyone I know.”
He chuckled. “You flatter me, Gertrude.”
“I do not. Whatever I say about you is true,” she protested, pouting slightly. It was a habit she had recently acquired, and Claveston had to admit he wasn’t delighted by it.
Yet, her insistence made him smile. “I hope others will think the same.”
“Who wouldn’t?” she asked, glancing around as if they might be present and she intended to give them a piece of her mind. Claveston chuckled. “Tell me who they are, and I shall set them straight.”
He would never confide it to anyone, much less his little sister, but his interest in Miss Lefebvre was not solely for Gertrude’s benefit. He did not wish for anyone to think that he might have brought Miss Lefebvre to Compton for his own purposes. It would do little for her reputation - and when he had first made the offer it had been far from the truth. His most sincere desire had been for Gertrude to have a friend who could be as close to her as Miss Lefebvre was to Charlotte.
Yet, as they had swapped letters, to arrange her appointment, Claveston had come to know Miss Levebvre in a different way. She was modest and good - and had little understanding of her value to his family. Claveston’s mind filled with the cursive strokes her pen made against the page in her letters. She had a delicate hand, which matched her spirit. She had such controlled elegance, such grace, and poise. She was one of the most understated women amongst his acquaintance. Yet she stood out in a room filled with Society beauties.
“Why do you smile so?” Gertrude’s question interrupted his contemplation, and Claveston woke himself from his musing.
“Nothing.”
His sister frowned. “Not nothing. I have never seen you smile in that way. Something must be the cause of it. What is it?”
“Lord Claveston,” Mrs. Grint interrupted, stepping out onto the terrace. “Cooper has returned from the village with news. The carriage passed through Compton several minutes ago and is now on the hall road. It should be here within minutes.”
Claveston breathed a sigh of relief and was unable to stop himself from smiling. “There, you smiled like that again, Claveston,” Gertrude noted with a teasing grin.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Gertrude. There is nothing curious about my smile,” he said dismissively. “Thank you, Mrs. Grint. That will be all.” The housekeeper gave him a look, but she left without a word.
Gertrude's brow remained furrowed as she stared at him. He smoothed her forehead with his thumb. “Come now, you don’t want wrinkles before you find a husband, do you?” he teased. “Your special guest has almost arrived. We should go to greet her,” he urged, taking her by the arm and escorting her to the entrance.
His steps were brisk at first, but he slowed them purposefully. He didn’t want anyone to think he was excited. He was not a schoolboy who became energized by the visits of strangers. He was the Earl of Wycliff, a gentleman, and he had control over himself.
As they reached the front door, Claveston could see the carriage coming up the drive; a light cloud of dust rose from the horses’ hoofs as they progressed up the gravel path. Gertrude held his arm tightly as he escorted her down the grand stone staircase onto the driveway to meet her new companion.
Gertrude looked at him curiously, but he ignored it. His sister was often too curious, but there was no need for concern. Soon, she would have all the entertainment she needed and would find him less fascinating.
He had been her anchor, throughout her short life. Whilst he had been away at school and university it had been difficult for her, being surrounded by mostly servants. He knew, if Gertrude would let her, that Miss Lefebvre could become someone that his sister could turn to and rely upon. She needed someone to guide her through the trials and tribulations of young womanhood – something he most certainly could not do.
He couldn’t deny, that having someone like Miss Lefebvre here with Gertrude would also make his life easier, too. Though he often acted as if his life was all about fun, his sister was never far from his mind. When he was gone, she was alone, and he was aware of that, and it troubled him, which was why he never stayed away long, but instead enjoyed frequent visits to divide himself between his own more selfish pursuits and to ensure Gertrude’s happiness.
The carriage crunched to a halt. Claveston rushed to the door, opened it, and held out his hand. “Miss Lefebvre, welcome.”
A slender, gloved hand slipped into his palm, and Claveston felt his back straighten and his chest lift as she stepped down from the coach and met his gaze. “Lord Wycliffe,” she said, dipping her head to look at the ground and offering him a polite curtsey as soon as her feet touched the floor.
A quick glance at his sister, who was stood a few steps back at the bottom of the stairs, to see if she had noticed how gracefully Miss Lefebvre had got down from the carriage told him she had. Her eyes were wide with admiration. Claveston stepped back and bowed. “I trust your trip was a pleasant one,” he said, offering her his arm.
“It was not unenjoyable,” she replied with a delicate smile. “Perhaps a little longer than I expected.”
They walked towards Gertrude who dropped into a slightly clumsy curtsey. “Please, allow me to present my sister, Lady Gertrude St. John. Gertrude, this is Miss Lefebvre, your new companion.”
“Miss Lefebvre.” Gertrude gave an awkward smile.
“Lady Gertrude, it is a pleasure,” Sophie replied with a much broader one. “I look forward to getting to know you well. I ‘ave looked forward to this day for some weeks now.”
“As have I,” Gertrude said excitedly.
“I am sure you both will be fast friends in no time at all,” Claveston said hopefully.
