Chapter 221
Needing a Place
“Do you require something, My Lady?” Charles asked from his spot beneath the sweeping staircase. He’d spied Lady Constance from his station in the foyer of the grand townhouse. Instructed by the Duke of Fallbridge to keep watch in case Lady Constance tried to leave the house, Charles was not shocked when he heard her dainty footsteps from three floors above him.
“Who said that?” Constance grumbled, leaning over the banister.
“It is I, Your Ladyship, Charles.”
“Ah, the footman.” Constance muttered as she descended the stairs. “Spying, are you?”
“Not exactly,” Charles smiled politely. “His Grace asked if I would keep watch tonight.”
“For what? Desperate ladies?”
“No, My Lady.” Charles shook his head. “Simply because, as I understand it, there are forces outside of the house who wish harm upon its occupants, both permanent and visiting.”
“The Duke told you I might try to go out on my own.” Constance sighed.
“He suggested that you might.”
“Do you know what it’s like?” Constance asked.
“My Lady?”
“Knowing your own child is out there somewhere, in the grip of someone who is, at her best, demented?”
“No, not personally. However, I once had a friend who was the mother of a child. She fretted that she had not made the best decisions for her son and feared that she’d put him in the hands of someone who might, ultimately, do him harm. I helped her as best I could, and, in the end, she did her part to liberate that child. I know such a venture can be grueling, but, that it also takes time.”
“Lady Fallbridge? The Duke’s ‘dead’ sister. You and she…”
Charles’ eyes widened in shock.
“Don’t look so surprised, Charles.” Lady Constance shook her head. “London is a large city and a very small town.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“So, this man who had the boy…he was bad?”
“Yes.” Charles nodded.
“Bad enough that Barbara would have preferred him to be raised by…two such different men.”
“It’s my masters’ differences which make them so magnanimous. They have suffered for their differences and, therefore, have the greatest compassion for all.”
“You’re very loyal.” Constance smiled. “I didn’t mean to impugn the names of your masters. I’m rather fond of them.” She leaned against the gilt newel post. “Did you know…no, of course you didn’t. My mother had a scheme. She insisted that I should give Fern—that’s my daughter—to His Grace and his companion. She absolutely loathed them both. You see, that’s the rub, Charles. She hated them. Utter contempt and damnation. However, she hated Fern more. And, me.” She shook her head. “She thought it best to give her own granddaughter to two men she loathed than to keep her…”
“Is that why you killed your mother?” Charles asked bravely.
“In part.” Constance nodded. She grinned. “I can’t believe that I told you that—you, a footman.”
“I shan’t say a word, My Lady.” Charles replied. “Nor, shall I judge you.”
“I believe that you won’t. You’ve kind eyes. I trust you. I imagine that it’s your lack of condemnation which caused His Grace to take you on?”
“No.” Charles smiled. “The Duke took me on, despite the doctor’s protestations, because I needed a place. I’d been estranged from my family. I couldn’t return to Italy. No familyin New Orleans would take me after I’d betrayed my mistress. I had nowhere to go. I needed a place—there was nothing. His Grace took pity on me even though I had been quite unkind to him previously. Terribly unkind. You see, My Lady, I had been known to condemn, and condemn I did. The Duke showed me that such behavior was only going to condemn me in the end.”
“Interesting.” Lady Constance replied softly, looking into Charles’ eyes. “I can see what Lady Barbara saw in you.”
“She was not Lady Barbara when I knew her.” Charles answered quietly.
“Barbara and I were often together when the Duchess came to London. Barbara never cared for me much. She thought I was plain and looked down on me for it.”
Charles was silent.
“Do you think that I’m plain, Charles?”
“No, Lady Constance, I do not.”
“I find you very handsome, Charles.” Constance smiled slightly. “If I’m doomed to stay in this evening, perhaps…perhaps I can find a way to amuse myself.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-220 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 222.
“Do you require something, My Lady?” Charles asked from his spot beneath the sweeping staircase. He’d spied Lady Constance from his station in the foyer of the grand townhouse. Instructed by the Duke of Fallbridge to keep watch in case Lady Constance tried to leave the house, Charles was not shocked when he heard her dainty footsteps from three floors above him.
“Who said that?” Constance grumbled, leaning over the banister.
“It is I, Your Ladyship, Charles.”
“Ah, the footman.” Constance muttered as she descended the stairs. “Spying, are you?”
“Not exactly,” Charles smiled politely. “His Grace asked if I would keep watch tonight.”
“For what? Desperate ladies?”
“No, My Lady.” Charles shook his head. “Simply because, as I understand it, there are forces outside of the house who wish harm upon its occupants, both permanent and visiting.”
“The Duke told you I might try to go out on my own.” Constance sighed.
“He suggested that you might.”
“Do you know what it’s like?” Constance asked.
“My Lady?”
“Knowing your own child is out there somewhere, in the grip of someone who is, at her best, demented?”
“No, not personally. However, I once had a friend who was the mother of a child. She fretted that she had not made the best decisions for her son and feared that she’d put him in the hands of someone who might, ultimately, do him harm. I helped her as best I could, and, in the end, she did her part to liberate that child. I know such a venture can be grueling, but, that it also takes time.”
“Lady Fallbridge? The Duke’s ‘dead’ sister. You and she…”
Charles’ eyes widened in shock.
“Don’t look so surprised, Charles.” Lady Constance shook her head. “London is a large city and a very small town.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“So, this man who had the boy…he was bad?”
“Yes.” Charles nodded.
“Bad enough that Barbara would have preferred him to be raised by…two such different men.”
“It’s my masters’ differences which make them so magnanimous. They have suffered for their differences and, therefore, have the greatest compassion for all.”
“You’re very loyal.” Constance smiled. “I didn’t mean to impugn the names of your masters. I’m rather fond of them.” She leaned against the gilt newel post. “Did you know…no, of course you didn’t. My mother had a scheme. She insisted that I should give Fern—that’s my daughter—to His Grace and his companion. She absolutely loathed them both. You see, that’s the rub, Charles. She hated them. Utter contempt and damnation. However, she hated Fern more. And, me.” She shook her head. “She thought it best to give her own granddaughter to two men she loathed than to keep her…”
“Is that why you killed your mother?” Charles asked bravely.
“In part.” Constance nodded. She grinned. “I can’t believe that I told you that—you, a footman.”
“I shan’t say a word, My Lady.” Charles replied. “Nor, shall I judge you.”
“I believe that you won’t. You’ve kind eyes. I trust you. I imagine that it’s your lack of condemnation which caused His Grace to take you on?”
“No.” Charles smiled. “The Duke took me on, despite the doctor’s protestations, because I needed a place. I’d been estranged from my family. I couldn’t return to Italy. No familyin New Orleans would take me after I’d betrayed my mistress. I had nowhere to go. I needed a place—there was nothing. His Grace took pity on me even though I had been quite unkind to him previously. Terribly unkind. You see, My Lady, I had been known to condemn, and condemn I did. The Duke showed me that such behavior was only going to condemn me in the end.”
“Interesting.” Lady Constance replied softly, looking into Charles’ eyes. “I can see what Lady Barbara saw in you.”
“She was not Lady Barbara when I knew her.” Charles answered quietly.
“Barbara and I were often together when the Duchess came to London. Barbara never cared for me much. She thought I was plain and looked down on me for it.”
Charles was silent.
“Do you think that I’m plain, Charles?”
“No, Lady Constance, I do not.”
“I find you very handsome, Charles.” Constance smiled slightly. “If I’m doomed to stay in this evening, perhaps…perhaps I can find a way to amuse myself.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-220 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 222.
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