Page 51 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
In the center of the white and black marble chequered entrance hall stood the butler. “Good Afternoon, gentlemen,” said the man dressed in elegant evening livery that was invariably donned prior to luncheon. His dress consisted of black trousers and a swallowtail coat, under which he wore a black waistcoat and a crisp linen shirt, cuffed with unostentatious link buttons. His feet were clad in shoes of lustreless leather that didn’t make a sound when he moved.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” said Jonathan. “We are here to see the Honorable Amelia Carlyle.”
The butler arched his eyebrows. It was most uncommon for a strange man to be calling on a lady without a formal introduction. “May I ask who is calling?” he asked in his throaty voice that was almost frosty. The muscles on his face hardly moved when he spoke.
“Mr. Jonathan Mitchell and Mr. Jake Farrows from Virginia, USA.” Jonathan thought that maybe mentioning their origins might increase their chances. It must surely be known in the Carlyle household that Amelia had been held in the United States. “Amelia…I mean the Honorable Amelia Carlyle was a guest at my plantation when she was in the Americas.”
“I see. I will have to consult with the master of the house if you wish to see his daughter.” The butler took a step back and ushered both Jake and Jonathan into the house. After the footman had helped them remove their overcoats, the butler directed them to the drawing room. “You may wait here if you please.” He bowed and was gone, his shoes hardly making a sound as he navigated across the ornate parquetry flooring in the drawing room that seamlessly changed to marble in the hall beyond.
Jake whistled again as he surveyed the rich silk wallpaper on the walls and the luxuriant furnishings all around him. “Nice, but not as nice as Fair Weather Heaths’,” he said.
Jonathan did not respond. He was getting more and more nervous by the minute. Time moved so slowly. He became addicted to the rhythmic ticking sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside. Jake was far more sanguine as he prowled around the room, inspecting the artwork on the walls.
“I think this is one of Amelia as a young girl,” he said, examining a portrait.
“Yes, that is of my daughter,” said a voice in a haughty tone. Both Jake and Jonathan looked in the direction of its source. Standing in the doorway was a man of considerable girth. He had a bald head and wore an immaculately tailored suit. “My butler tells me that you are acquainted with my daughter?”
Jonathan got to his feet. “Yes, that is correct.” He moved closer to Amelia’s father and held out his hand. “Jonathan Mitchell, Sir, at your service.”
Sir Thomas reluctantly took the proffered hand. “Sir Thomas Carlyle, Sir.”
After Jonathan had introduced Jake, he launched into the speech he had been rehearsing in preparation for this day. “Sir Thomas, my friend and I have come all the way from the United States on board a British ship to visit Amelia.” He especially thought to avoid mentioning Anna because it might jeopardize her position in the household. “I don’t know whether your daughter mentioned me…”
“No, I can’t say that she has. However, I am not here to entertain your desire of visiting my daughter. I only wanted to meet the man who abducted her and held her against her will. The moment my butler mentioned your name to me, I knew who it was. My future son-in-law mentioned it on occasion when he told me of your outrageous ransom demand.”
“I never followed through with that, Sir,” said Jonathan, interrupting the other man.
“That may be, but you kidnapped my daughter and her lady’s maid. You could’ve harmed them both,” snapped Sir Thomas.
“We would never have done that,” interjected Jake.
“Now, I will have the satisfaction of having you removed from my house. I never thought this day would come,” said Sir Thomas. He called to his butler that he arrange for their coats to be fetched.
“It is imperative that I see your daughter, Sir,” said Jonathan, his disposition vexed.
“No, Sir. It is imperative you leave my property and never come back. I have no wish to converse with rogues for a moment longer. You should be grateful that I do not demand satisfaction. Good day, gentlemen.” Sir Thomas turned and walked out of the room on squeaking shoes.
Jonathan and Jake followed in his wake, continuing to entreaty the man that he changes his mind. However, his passage was unwavering. “Sir Thomas, your daughter is my betrothed,” Jonathan blurted.
His words had the necessary effect. Sir Thomas stopped his pacing and slowly turned. “You are mistaken, Sir. My daughter is to be married to Lord Templeton French, the son of the Duke of Brandon,” he announced imperiously.
“I know that. But that was before she and I fell in love. I have come here to oppose the union to the duke’s son and ask you for her hand in marriage.”
“What a preposterous proposal. I will hear nothing of it and neither will my daughter…of that I am certain. Now be gone before she gets home and finds her vile abductors standing in the hallway of her home,” growled Sir Thomas.
A shrill scream stopped Jonathan before he could respond. “JONATHAN!”
It was Amelia. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her lower lip trembled as she gradually lifted her hand to her mouth. “What…how…why are you here?” It was all she could think of to say. For months she had dreamed of this day, but she had never thought it would come. Now, the man she loved stood in the hallway in her family’s London home.
“Amelia…I can’t believe that I am looking at you.” He saw the confusion and emotion playing on her face. He had to explain. “After the sacking of Washington, Jake and I were captured. I told my captor, Rear Admiral Cockburn, of the way we felt for one another and he offered me passage on one of his ships,” said Jonathan, taking a step in Amelia’s direction. There was so much to tell, but this was not the time and the place. He noticed Sir Thomas seething with indignation next to him.
“An American on board a British ship and courtesy of a rear admiral…absolutely ludicrous!” Lord Templeton French said stepping past Amelia. “Who are these men?” he asked, directing his arrogant gaze at the two Americans.
“And what are they doing in my home?” chirruped Amelia’s mother. She looked snootier than usual in her finely cut coat with the fur lining. She had worn it for the walk in the park she had taken earlier.
“This man here says he’s here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage,” said Sir Thomas, pointing at Jonathan.
Lord Templeton French hacked out a laugh. “I am afraid you are a little late and too damned American for that to happen, old boy.”
