The Shoemaker Read online

  The ladies and Kingston soon retired to the Drawing Room where hot tea was served. Kingston escorted her across the hall directly through the double doors and led her to a comfortable arm chair.

  “Follow my lead and retreat to the library when you can stand no more,” he whispered in her ear as she sat down. She nodded with a smile of amusement. She couldn’t yet decide if the Duke was a stuffy aristocrat or joking with somewhat of a justifiable measure.

  She noticed the ladies which hadn’t been able to converse with her chose to display excellent manners in now seating themselves closer to her. Kingston stood some distance away at the mantle to observe. Alton began serving hot tea.

  “I’m Lady Frances Tilney, Cornwall,” Frances said from a perch on a sofa. Though Winnie detected a hint of superiority in her smug tone, she smiled politely as if she hadn’t noticed.

  Beside Frances, another young lady spoke up. “Lady Mary, Devon Shire.”

  Next to Mary on the same sofa, “I am Miss Cordelia Higgens, Northampton.”

  “Lady Julia Chatsworth, I live in a small village not too far from Windsor Castle, in Berk Shire.”

  “Lady Margaret Ludlow, another local…”

  “Last, but certainly not least, Lady Constance Pickens. ‘Tis a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lyndon. I’m from Mayfair and arrived with Lady Julia. We shared a coach ride from London to Northampton. Did you have trouble with getting through due to the snowfall?”

  “Thank you everyone!” Winnie smiled and tried to include all of them by looking around the room. “It’s very nice to meet each of you also. No, actually, the snow had been cleared on the roads, though at first I was a bit apprehensive, Lady Constance. My driver knew the route well and stopped often, which I appreciated. It was nice to stretch and have the warmer refilled for my feet.”

  “I do so wish you could have enjoyed the sleigh ride with us this afternoon!” Lady Amiée-Josephine piped up.

  “Oh, yes! It was great fun!” Lady Mary nodded.

  “Maybe we can go again tomorrow,” Lady Elizabeth suggested.

  “No, we cannot possibly go tomorrow. We visit Delapré Abbey tomorrow and our Annual Christmas Dinner will take place in the evening…” Lady Anne-Marie reminded the gathering. “I do hope you will join us, Miss Lyndon.”

  “Yes, of course,” Winnie replied.

  “There is one way you may all enjoy another day of sled riding,” Kingston said.

  “How?” Lady Amiée-Jo asked eagerly.

  “I will have Carl hitch up the sleighs to carry you to the Abbey instead of the coaches,” he answered.The library erupted in more girlish shrieks and squeals of delight.

  Edmund Blair Leighton, Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

  Titus 2:11-14, KJV

  11 For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, 12 Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; 13 Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; 14 Who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.

  Chapter 3

  Max

  A little while later, the Duke successfully navigated their exit with excuses to discuss Miss Lyndon’s schedule and duties. Thus, Catherine found herself engaged in conversation with Kingston as they traversed the length of his library in several turns about the room. Alton served coffee, but after only a few sips, she felt restless enough to peruse the books as they conversed.

  “What questions do you stow in that pretty head of yours regarding your new position?” he inquired, indulging in her desire to walk.

  “Your sisters seem mildly enthusiastic about my presence. Have you had a chance to speak to them about this matter?”

  “I have, briefly before dinner,” he said, his arms clasped behind his back as they walked. He watched her facial expressions, while she read book titles they passed. “It went better than I expected.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “I believe it is because their friends will soon depart and they will be left alone again. Secondly, they miss Mother as much as I do. They seem rather lost without her. I think they find it a comfort that she selected you to be their companion.”

  “In other words, if she were with us today, they might otherwise object.”

  “Quite right,” he agreed. “They might regard any companion, whether you or some other lady companion, a spy of sorts to curtail their activities and actions. To some degree, they believe this is the case, but seem willing to heed the arrangements Mother set in motion prior to her death.”

  “Well then, I shall try to build their trust by giving you a great many favorable reports of their activities,” she said with a smile.

  He chuckled at her playful tone. “That is wise.”

  “What other expectations do you have of me?” She paused beside a shelf containing a leather bound copy of Don Quixote and looked at Kingston directly.

  “It is my hope that you will be not only a companion in many of their activities, but a gentle guide. I hope you will be able to persuade them to behave seemly at all times while you assist in keeping them occupied. They need to be distracted from unladylike or inappropriate behaviors. If at times, you are not able to achieve this, that is understandable I suppose, but if it is a serious matter, I wish to know. We will have a daily meeting each day as shall be convenient, generally each evening, to discuss their progress and your endeavors. They also need preparations for their introduction to society.”

  “That seems fair enough, but they seem fairly independent,” Winnie remarked as she pulled a volume from a nearby shelf to leaf through the pages of Voltaire’s Candide.

  “Yes, at nineteen and seventeen, they are fiercely determined to have their freedom now that they are out of the school room. Anne-Marie has an odd obsession with fashion, particularly shoes, and embroidering slippers; I think because Mother had similar compulsions. She also likes to crochet and sew, but doesn’t like knitting. Amiée-Josephine will spend hours with her butterfly and insect collection of drawings. She is quite the biologist. She spends a great deal of her time making wax, wood, and paper flowers, fish, birds, and animals. She also enjoys making all sorts of shell ornamentations. I think her main interest is in flowers. Nonetheless, they can be mischievous, cantankerous, and socially unmanageable.”

  “These worthwhile pursuits you mention must be encouraged if I am to succeed at keeping them out of trouble. They must also have some sort of consistent social life with the right sort of people, not necessarily of the peerage. Though they need to laugh, and often, we should dispense with this great party of women as soon as possible without creating offense or the appearance of ill manners with poor hospitality; though I fear it would hamper the very resolution you require to your own predicament. They are barely out of mourning I would venture to guess. Most of all, your sisters require a continuance of Christian training, attendance of Sunday services, and a good deal of participation in local missionary endeavors if they are to embrace and acquire socially acceptable behaviors and become the models of Christian living they should be as the nearest relations of an honorable Duke. I assume they have had the best of tutors. I cannot promise achievement where they may have failed to progress. The Lord works the miracles. I am merely His servant.” She returned Candide to the shelf as if she had finished with it just as she finished her mission statement. He allowed her to set the pace and they continued to stroll while he pondered her summary of what she believed he desired of a companion.

  “You have far more wisdom than I could have hoped for. I understand more clearly exactly why Mother chose you, and why the Countess highly recommended you. I expect you will do your best. I trust you will also keep me informed.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Have you read Candide?”

  “Mais oui, in both French and English,” she answered.

&nb
sp; “Did you like his work?”

  “I can honestly say I did not like many of his characters,” she said. “I am not sure of Voltaire’s ultimate intentions in his writing. He seems to oppose corruption, war, suffering, and injustice but explains that these things will and do go on in this world. Though some may disagree, I personally believe his philosophy argues on behalf of God, a God who is interested in what is ultimately best for us in the outcome of these things. I believe he is in favor of living a good and simple life of hard work and existing in harmony with our creator in the garden of fellowship and prayer.”

  “I could not agree more,” he agreed, appearing surprised as well as delighted by the level of her astuteness.

  When she yawned, he picked up one of her gloved hands and placed it on his arm, covering it with his own hand. “Now, young lady, I shall escort you to your room. You are still recovering from the journey.”

  “I do apologize,” she said. “Beatrice said my bath would be ready soon. It would be very nice of you to see me to my room. I don’t have my directional sense yet.”

  “I’ll give you a tour tomorrow morning, after breakfast,” he said as he led her toward the library doors. “By the way, feel free to borrow any books you may wish to read from our vast collection.”

  This earned him his second adoring though weary smile; the first of which he earned when she had recovered from the surprise of landing in his arms instead of atop Bertha’s feathers.

  When they reached the bedroom door to the Rose Room, she stifled a second yawn. “You may call me Winnie. Thank you for everything and sleep well, Kingston.”

  “Good night, Winnie,” he said, searching her face and eyes, though she avoided looking directly back into his for more than a brief, courteous smile. She slipped inside the door and closed herself in, frightened by the pace with which this Duke bestowed attention upon her. She determined to sink into the bathing tub and do her absolute best to keep a level head.

  The next day, after early morning prayers, she dressed in a brushed velvet walking suit in a shade of dark plum. The suit featured a bodice and long sleeves in pale pink, the pelisse and skirt in plum. A round thick collar of wool dyed to the exact shade of plum on the pelisse would keep her neck warm in the sleigh. The sleeves of the pelisse and the matching veiled hat were also trimmed in the same. She opted for a mulberry shawl to wear at breakfast and around the house. She would don the pelisse for the sleigh ride with a cape and muff. She lamented having no shoes in plum. Her kid leather half boots would have to suffice until she could find time to do a bit of shopping for shoes with a small portion of the sum Kingston had advanced her.

  Beatrice peeked in on her in time to inform her that she was the only one awake for breakfast before eight o’clock. “Good morning Miss Lyndon! It’s nice to find someone awake. These young girls tend to stay up reading novels far into the night. Then they sleep late.”

  “Do you style all of their hair?” Catherine asked as Beatrice began brushing her hair out.

  “Oh no, thank the good Lord! A few of the ladies brought their own maids. Most of the other maids have even helped with dressing the ladies who didn’t bring a maid.” She parted Winnie’s hair down the middle, curled the front sides into three dangling curls on each side of her face, braided the rest, and coiled it into a tidy knot, pinning it securely in place.

  She wasn’t too surprised to find only Kingston at breakfast.

  “Good morning, Winnie! An early riser! You are to be commended. ‘Tis a rarity in this household…” He greeted her cheerfully while turning a page in The Mercury, the local newspaper. “Help yourself to the buffet. We’re fairly informal in the morning around here.”

  “Thank you and good morning to you also,” she returned, filling a plate with a scoop of scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, an orange wedge, and a buttermilk biscuit. “I hate to make an admission, but I have been known to sleep late after reading much of the night. Father does heckle me so when that happens.”

  “Mother used to do the same now and then. Our entire lot of guests, I suspect, remain awake reading until nearly dawn, especially at holiday time. I rise early because of my military background and the demands of the estate, neither of which yield much time for sleeping.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a military background,” she commented as she sat down in the same seat in which she had at dinner the night before.

  “It molded discipline and character within where I had little previously,” he acknowledged.

  He set the paper aside as she looked at a silver serving tray before them of three teapots which distracted her from responding to his statement while she labored over a choice of beverage. One was labeled Chocolať, another Tea, and the third Coffee. She ultimately settled on a cup of warm chocolať and added a splash of creamer from the small milk pitcher.

  “We didn’t have a chance to discuss our schedule,” he remarked.

  “…Or the details concerning today’s events,” she added, reaching for a jar of elderberry jam.

  “Let’s start there,” he agreed. “The Abbey of Saint Mary de la Pré…”

  “The Abbey of Saint Mary in the Meadow,” she translated as she dabbed a tiny spoonful of jam on half of the biscuit on her plate. “It sounds beautiful.”

  “It is beautiful, though we won’t be able to see much of the walled gardens in their splendor this time of year.” He paused to drink some of his coffee. “Still, it will be an enjoyable visit. Lady Anne-Marie wishes to visit Delapré Abbey because the owner recently passed on to the gates of Heaven. We should frequently offer Sir Edward Bouverie’s son and widow comfort. We can offer each other comfort and strengthen each other in so doing. Secondly, it would be a memorable visit for our guests, steeped with rich history. I won’t spoil that part for you now. You will hear more later today. They are also invited guests at this evening’s dinner party.”

  “I see,” she nodded, clasping her hands around her cup for warmth as he regaled her with the festive plans for the coming days.

  “Are you ready for that tour?” He asked when he had finished giving her a brief sketch of important dates and details. She was about to answer in the affirmative when a furry friend bounded past her to bestow affection upon his master in the form of nuzzles, prancing, tail wagging, and wines of delight that sounded almost scolding.

  Kingston leaned down with a broad smile to welcome the furry fellow and return a generous amount of attention to the Corgi. He patted his fur and spoke gently to him in loving tones with intermittent laughter. “There you are Maxwell! Max, I’ve missed you! Yes, there, there! I know, we didn’t have our walk this morning and you are scolding me. Max, sit now. Do I have your attention?”

  The Corgi sat reluctantly, calming down at the stern commands of his master. Though he sat, his tail stilled wagged as the Duke indulged him with pats on the head.

  “Now Max, I would like you to meet someone.” Kingston drew his attention to Catherine. She pushed her chair back, delighted to meet the beloved family pet. “This is Winnie.”

  “Well, hello there Max!” she cooed, grinning ear to ear as she bent down from her seat to meet him.

  Max turned around so that he could sit close to her knee in order to sniff her shoes and skirts. Then he nuzzled her hand, allowing her to talk to him with soothing words as she patted his fur.

  “I do believe he likes you.”

  “Where has he been hiding?” she inquired.

  “He is usually in the kitchen with our cook, Mrs. Childers. She spoils him with scraps. He keeps watch over the kitchen beside the fireplace after a hard day’s work of helping to herd our barnyard animals. You should have seen her mixing up an extra plum pudding just for Max on Stir it Up Sunday. She has made it a tradition since we acquired him as a pup. We all gather in the kitchen to watch her mix the Christmas pudding up. Then we have a toast with cider and a great deal of cheering, followed by a song. We’ve been doing it since I was about this high…” He motioned the hei
ght of a toddler with one hand.

  “Stir it Up Sunday is a favorite tradition we celebrate in Essex also,” she smiled, remembering so many pleasant Christmas memories years gone by.

  “What is life like in Essex for a vicar’s daughter at Christmas?” he asked with interest.

  “We reside in a comfortable, small country house with two cats, and only one cook and one maid. I can tell you our cook, Betsy, truly looks forward to Stir it Up Sunday and the mixing of the plum pudding... but she usually gives Lady Selah and Lady Belle a piece of salmon for Christmas. They turn up their nose at the pudding. Our parish is rural as it lies on the outskirts of West Chelmsford. Though we haven’t but a small choir, Father always begins the service on that particular Sunday with a prayer from The Book of Common Prayer: Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people… I think Betsy would pack her bags to ne’er return if he dare forgot.”

  “Do you celebrate with Yule logs, greenery, gifts, and a feast?”

  “Indeed!” Her eyes lit up as she talked. “Mince meat pies, roasted goose, sometimes a turkey or a ham, all sorts of greenery and decorations, a Christmas tree, going to church services, parties and invitations, a country dance…”

  “Then you shall enjoy all that we have planned almost as if you were at home.” Changing the subject, he stood up. “Let’s take that tour while we have the chance and the house is still blissfully abed.”