Page 6 of The English Duke
“Are we almost there, Gran?” Josephine asked, her voice sounding petulant.
“How should I know, child?” her grandmother asked. “I’ve never been to Sedgebrook, either. Charles said we should reach it shortly after midday and since it’s about that time, I would think we are close.”
Martha had heard her father talk about Sedgebrook in rapturous terms quite unlike him. He’d seen the Duke of Roth’s seat once, as a boy, but he’d never forgotten the sight.
“It isn’t simply the size of the place, Martha. There’s its dominance over the countryside. You can see the house for miles before you reach it.”
He was right. As the carriage came over the rise, Sedgebrook appeared on the horizon almost like the sun at dawn. According to her father, work began on the house in 1653. It took a hundred years to finish Sedgebrook, or the lifetimes of three Dukes of Roth.
Sedgebrook was built of a yellowish stone that had mellowed over the centuries. Near the roofline the color was deeper, almost brown. The house was an open square, with wings to either side, the baroque design adding a flamboyant touch. The main section was adorned with an enormous and opulent dome that was duplicated in smaller proportion on each of the wings. Statues of knights adorned the roof edge, appearing like a frozen army ready to defend.
The Hamiltonian Hills behind the house had been named for the family and shone bluish gray as they approached. According to her father, the thousand acres surrounding Sedgebrook were comprised of paved walks, and two temples fashioned in the Greek style—the Temple of the Four Winds and the Temple of the Muses. Woodlands flanked the house, leading up to the terraces beside Hamilton Lake, a good distance away.
From here she could see dramatic swaths of blue-and-yellow flowers planted in seemingly random fashion. Although she wasn’t familiar with some of the names, she knew bluebells and rhododendrons well enough to identify them. No doubt the formal gardens that had so impressed her father were behind the house.
Josephine gasped beside her. Even Gran looked surprised, and she was rarely impressed by anything.
Her own home was as much a paean to her family’s success. In the case of Sedgebrook, however, she thought the Hamilton family might’ve gone a bit overboard.
It took an hour to reach the graveled approach, the carriage slowing as they entered the open square before the main building.
Twin staircases met at the top landing in front of double doors that looked like hammered metal. The urns situated on every other step on both staircases were filled with bluish flowers.
Beside her, Josephine sat up straight, her eyes sparkling with acquisitive interest.
Their father had refused Josephine nothing. She wanted for no bauble, gown, slippers, toy, or amusement. Anything she desired was instantly hers. More than once Martha had wondered what Josephine would have done if they’d suddenly become penniless.
Matthew York’s death had no effect on the family fortune. There was no title to go to a remote second cousin. No long-lost relative stood in the wings announcing he’d been given the brunt of the inheritance. No, it had been divided into four parts, equally shared by Gran, Josephine, Marie, and Martha.
Perhaps Marie expected to inherit the majority of the fortune. On learning of the contents of the will, her stepmother had what she could only describe as a temper tantrum. To say Marie was disappointed was to vastly understate the obvious. After her emotional outburst was over, she sulked for days and would hardly speak to anyone.
“It’s not the money,” Gran said when Martha expressed her confusion. “It’s the power. Now she can’t force anyone to do as she wishes.”
Gran had smiled, then, and it occurred to Martha that the expression was a particularly triumphant one.
Not long after that day Marie had decamped from Griffin House for France.
Still, the sum they’d each inherited was more than they could spend in their lifetimes. With the freedom her father’s money would give her, she could finish his work. She needn’t get permission to hire the services of a clockmaker or obtain approval for more copper plates to be delivered to her father’s cottage.
Josephine, too, had plans for her fortune. A magnificent, if delayed, debut in London and a husband. If necessary, she’d buy him.
What a pity the Duke of Roth couldn’t be purchased. From Josephine’s gaping wonder, she’d quite fallen in love with the house.
They pulled in front of the staircases, but no servant raced down the steps to greet them. In fact, it looked as if their arrival hadn’t even been noticed.
She’d been so annoyed at the duke’s letter that she’d sent him a terse response in reply.The York family will be arriving by carriage on July the twelfth to deliver Matthew York’s bequest to the Duke of Roth.It was a perfectly bland letter, structured so as not to reveal her irritation.
Would he remember they were to arrive today? Would he care?
Josephine was using a handkerchief to dust the tops of her shoes. She’d already inspected her face in the carriage mirror, adjusted her hat, and ensured her appearance was as pristine as it could be after being in a carriage for the majority of the day.
Her sister would always be beautiful regardless of the circumstances.
As the carriage rocked to a halt, Josephine turned to her.
“Don’t worry, Martha,” she said, smiling. “I shall charm the duke. After a few minutes in my company, he’ll be grateful we’ve come.”
She didn’t know what annoyed her more: Josephine’s brash confidence or her suspicion that her sister was correct.
