The Viscount's Wife: Christian Victorian Era Historical (Window to the Heart Saga Spin-off Book 4) Read online

  “I suppose you are right, Mother, but my time in America altered how I view God. My relationship with him has brought me peace. I think if you were to give God a chance like I have, you would understand.”

  “Pish. The only asset to being in mourning, is that we are not expected to go out in public, including attending church. I am grateful for the reprieve.” Changing the subject, Lady Almonbury stated, “Dinner will be in an hour. Do not be late. In the meantime, I will send word to have an etiquette tutor arrive in the morning to start Deborah’s training.”

  Chapter 3

  As Debbey entered the enormous dining hall, she pinched her mouth shut to keep it from falling open in astonishment. The room was encased in grandeur. She viewed elegantly carved chairs and a matching table which had a silky red tablecloth running its length. On top of the table, each place setting held sparkling crystal goblets, white porcelain plates, and gleaming silverware. Debbey had never witnessed a more impressive sight.

  William held out one of the chairs for Debbey, and as she sat down, she realized the table was set for six. Who was coming to dinner? As far as Debbey knew, William had no other family in Brighton.

  She glanced at William with an arched eyebrow as she nodded her head towards the other seats. “Why are there so many place settings?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea what dinner plans my mother has concocted,” he stated as he sat in a chair next to Debbey.

  Sharp laughter, mixed with a deep chuckle, echoed from down the hall. This caused Debbey’s head to jerk towards the other side of the room where double doors laid closed. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Lady Almonbury glided towards them on the arm of a rather distinguished looking older gentleman. He had thick black hair with streaks of grey, and piercing brown eyes. Behind them, there was a beautiful young woman. She appeared to be around Debbey’s own age and had long black hair that was pinned up in a stylish up-do. She wore a ruby red dress, bustled and fitted to perfection at the waist and hips with ruffles along the bottom and sleeves.

  Debbey glanced down at her own attire, a simple pale yellow dress; not in keeping with mourning attire and painfully out of fashion. When she had told the dressmaker she wasn’t picky about her wardrobe, the seamstress relaxed. The dressmaker informed Debbey she would have several fashionably appropriate dresses and gowns ready for her by the end of the month. Until then, Debbey knew she would be underdressed considering how Lady Almonbury maintained an extravagant, formal mourning wardrobe. At first, Debbey hadn’t worried about her appearance. She thought she would only be around William’s family. Now, as she looked at the vast difference between herself and the woman walking into the room, she felt pitifully plain.

  “Good evening, William,” the young woman greeted him with a smile which made her chocolate eyes twinkle.

  William stood to his feet with a surprised look on his face. “Lady Madeline, what are you doing here?”

  “Your mother invited us for dinner as a homecoming surprise.”

  His eyes darted to his mother and then narrowed. “She did, did she?”

  The trio took positions across from William and Debbey. Madeline’s gloved hand came to rest on the back of one of the plush chairs. “Are you not happy to see us, William?” The pouty tone was laid on thick as she continued, “Our families have been friends for years. Your mother thought you would be grateful to get reacquainted.”

  William didn’t respond but instead reached out his hand to Debbey, pulling her up beside him. “I would like to introduce my wife, Lady Deborah Almonbury, the new Viscountess Braybridge.” He looked across the table and added, “Lady Deborah, may I introduce you to Lord George Whitmore, the Earl of Bunsdure, and his daughter, Lady Madeline.”

  The young woman’s eyes flickered to Debbey almost as a courtesy glance before she returned her penetrating stare to William. “Are you pleased to be home, William? It has been years since you have been with us.”

  “I wish my return were under better circumstances.”

  A blush crossed Madeline’s face as she averted her eyes. “Pardon my thoughtless comment. We were all devastated by the passing of your father and brother. They will be missed greatly.”

  “I am famished, and I think we all need to take our seats,” the earl stated as he took his place at the head of the table. It was his right as the highest noble and lord in the room.

  Lady Almonbury took a seat next to him, and the earl’s daughter took a position on the other side right next to William.

  “I am looking forward to eating the meal prepared by the manor’s cook,” William exclaimed. “My stomach never did adjust to the majority of American cuisine.”

  Lady Madeline laughed and placed her hand on William’s arm. “Oh, William, you have always known how to make me laugh. You have not changed a bit.”

  Debbey was not fond of the excessive attention Lady Madeline was paying to William, nor how familiar she seemed to be with him. Before Debbey could form a plan to handle the situation, Clara came bounding into the room.

  “Good evening, everyone,” she greeted before surprise registered on her face when she noticed the guests at the table.

  Everyone’s attention momentarily focused on the young girl who was also wearing a black mourning dress. Each of them greeted her in turn as she took her seat across from William and next to her mother.

  “I was unaware we were having guests,” Clara stated as she self-consciously patted her hair into place and smoothed out her dress.

  “Mother decided to surprise all of us by having the Whitmores attend dinner this evening.”

  With a haughty demeanor, Lady Almonbury said, “I was not aware, as the lady of the manor, I was required to inform my children of any plans I have made.”

  “Former lady of the manor, Mother. I think the title falls to my wife, Lady Deborah now.”

  Debbey’s eyes snapped to her husband. She had remained quiet out of respect, but she refused to be used as a pawn by her husband in a game against his mother. She could tell the woman already didn’t like her; she didn’t want to make matters worse by letting her think Debbey had designs on her position.

  “William, your mother is still the lady of the manor. I neither assume nor wish to take her place.”

  Before he could form a rebuttal, several of the servants entered the room carrying bowls of soup. In unison, they placed the bowls down in front of each of the guests.

  Everyone began to eat and as Debbey took her first bite of the dish, her taste buds exploded with awe. The soup was rich in flavor and each bite was better than the last.

  “You are right, William; the cook at Hinwick Manor is exceptional. What is the name of this delicious soup?”

  “Turtle soup,” Lady Almonbury informed Debbey.

  Debbey’s stomach did a somersault at the thought as bile formed at the back of her throat. She stared down at her bowl with horror. When she was a child, her brother, Matthew, had found a turtle along the banks of the Willamette River and had brought it home. They named the turtle Slowpoke, and he had become the family pet. Debbey had loved him most especially and was deeply saddened when the screen door had been left ajar and he disappeared. She had cried for three days straight when she lost him. The idea of eating any turtle after having one as a pet made Debbey’s heart seize with revulsion.

  “What’s wrong, Lady Deborah?” Clara inquired. “You have stopped eating and look faint.”

  “It seems although the soup tastes wonderful, it doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

  “Why ever not? It is a delicacy,” Lady Almonbury questioned with irritation in her voice. “Are you so simple you have never had refined food before?”

  Debbey stiffened under the public dressing down. Instantly, she felt like she was back in West Linn at a luncheon with her best friend and her aunt. It had never dawned on Debbey before now, but William’s mother reminded her of Amelie’s Aunt Marcella. Both women were experts at admonishing other people and talking down to them. W
hen Marcella first arrived in West Linn, Debbey had several run-ins with the French socialite. None of them had been pleasant. After Amelie forgave her aunt for her wrong-doings, and Marcella accepted Jesus as her Savior, the woman softened and became kinder. Debbey was eventually able to form a positive relationship with the woman.

  Was that what was wrong with William’s mother? Did she need God in her life? If that were the case, Debbey needed to be kind in the way she responded and allow God to show His love through her. Hesitantly, she looked up and smiled at Lady Almonbury. “I have to admit, growing up in the Oregon Territory, I was rarely exposed to such cuisine. I’m sure I will grow accustomed to it.”

  Lady Almonbury didn’t respond but instead, turned her attention back to the earl. The rest of the meal passed without incident. Once the meal was over, Debbey excused herself and headed to her chambers. Her stomach still felt squeamish from the first course.

  Chapter 4

  William was furious with his mother’s ambush at dinner. She might have thought she had cleverly concealed her motives, but he was aware that she brought Lady Madeline to Hinwick Manor in order to disrupt his relationship with his wife. He needed to address the issue with his mother before he retired for the evening. He would not stand for her to behave in such a duplicitous manner.

  As he approached the parlor door, he heard his mother in the parlor lecturing his sister on her needlepoint. He stopped just outside the door to listen to their conversation.

  “That will not do, Clara. You need to make that cross-stitch with a steady hand, so it does not come lose later.”

  “Yes, mother, I am doing it just as I was taught by Miss Anna.”

  “I know you find this tedious, but these skills make you a better candidate for a potential suitor. Now that your brother is home to put our family affairs in order, we can make our way to London for the Season next month. I know we are restricted from socializing in public since we are in mourning, but I expect you to pay attention and learn as much as you can. Remember, the following year you will make your debut.”

  “What of Lady Deborah?”

  “What of the woman?”

  “Should she not be introduced into society as the new Viscountess Braybridge since she and William are newly wedded?” the young girl asked with a perplexed tone.

  “I do not want to do anything that cannot be undone, Clara. Once we introduce the little chit as family, she will be tied to us forever. I am of the mind your brother will come to his senses soon enough and send the strumpet packing.”

  Hearing enough, William barged into the room with anger pouring from every part of his body. Silently, he sent up a prayer, knowing he needed God to help him control his temper because, as he stared at the woman who gave him birth, he wanted to wipe the smug look off her face.

  His mother and sister looked up with startled expressions. Lady Almonbury sputtered out, “We were not expecting you.”

  “Your conversation made that perfectly clear. Talking about my wife in such a fashion is intolerable. Add it to your trickery at dinner, and I find myself ruminating on what I should do with you. As the Viscount Braybridge, I could have you sent away, stripped of all your wealth and privilege, and force you to live in a remote place where no one would ever hear from you again.”

  His mother’s eyes grew round with shock. “You would not dare do that to me, William. I am your mother, after all.”

  His brows came together in a furrow. “I will not—yet. But if you test me one more time, if I hear you treat my wife poorly, I will follow through with my threat, I promise you, Mother. Am I understood?”

  “Abundantly,” she answered through clenched teeth.

  “Regarding the matter of introducing my wife into society, I am tasking you to take the matter in hand. I expect you to see to it that she is presented in the best possible manner.”

  “But William, I am in mourning,” Lady Almonbury protested. “It is unseemly for me to introduce your new wife. I cannot sponsor her as I must refrain from socializing in public.”

  “Then have your sister, Aunt Beatrice, do it. She is always looking for a reason to get involved in our affairs. I am sure she will be pleased to present her for us.”

  A look of defeat crossed his mother’s face before she conceded. “I will do as you request.”

  “Good,” William stated with a pleased tone. “Once Debbey completes etiquette training over the next month, she will be ready to travel with us to London.”

  A yawn pulled at Debbey’s mouth as she dragged the brush through her hair one final time. It had been an exhausting night. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep.

  Her mind continued to replay the events of the day and evening trying to make sense of what happened. It was obvious William’s mother didn’t like her; however, she had arrived in England hoping to grow close to her husband’s family. It seemed impossible and she wondered what it would take to win over her new mother-in-law. What could she have done differently to present herself in a way that would have gained Lady Almonbury’s approval?

  Was it her appearance? Debbey had always been self-conscious about her looks. Her combination of red hair and green eyes were unusual, and she had grown up wanting to have classic features like other girls. When she was young, the boys hadn’t been kind. Or perhaps it was her upbringing? She was from an American working-class family. The American frontier didn’t often offer ways of refined socialization.

  William had informed her she was to undergo etiquette training at the suggestion of his mother. Wanting to please both of them, Debbey didn’t argue the point. She pretended it didn’t hurt her feelings, but secretly, she felt belittled. She knew it meant they thought her incapable of fitting into their world without intervention.

  “Lord, I ask for your help and guidance. I want to be the kind of wife William needs. I have no idea how to be a viscount’s wife. Guide me in my decisions and actions. Help me to gain my mother-in-law’s favor and to make William proud.”

  Although she instantly felt a peace flood her heart, she still was tired from the day. Debbey stood up from the vanity and adjusted the drawstring bow at the top of her nightgown. She pushed a couple of curls out of her face and gave one last look in the mirror. From behind, she heard the door creak open.

  “I am fine for the evening, Lily,” Debbey stated over her shoulder, thinking it was the personal maid Lady Almonbury had assigned to her.

  “Are you certain you do not want company?” she heard William ask from the door.

  She turned to see her husband leaning against the doorframe with a lop-sided grin on his face. “You look fetching in that nightgown, my love.”

  Glancing down at her outfit with skepticism, she shook her head. “You have an odd idea of what looks attractive.”

  “You make everything look gorgeous,” he stated as he moved from the door and walked over to stand in front of her. “You could wear a burlap sack to a ball and you would be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “Love has made you blind, William.”

  “Just the opposite. Love has opened my eyes.” He reached out and placed his hand on the side of her face. “I see you clearly, in all your splendor.”

  His touch sent a shiver up her spine as she leaned into his hand. She closed her eyes as she tilted her head up expectantly. She wanted to feel his lips upon her own, to drown out the numerous thoughts running through her mind from the day’s events, if only for a few moments.

  When he claimed her mouth with his own, Debbey’s body quaked with elation. She lifted her arms up and wrapped them around his neck while his body moved towards her until they were pressed against each other. She could feel his heartbeat racing against her chest. Her own heart thudded to keep up. William broke the kiss only long enough to take her by the hand and lead her towards the bed chamber.

  Chapter 5

  A rigid woman with a severe face and tightly pinned bun of black hair stood in the center of the parlor. The woman
’s hands were clasped together in front of her, and the disapproving glare made Debbey stiffen with dread.

  With a “humph” sound, the woman turned to the table next to her and picked up several books. She turned back to Debbey, extending the books out to her. “Take these. I expect you will have them read by tomorrow when I return for our second lesson.” The older woman pushed up the glasses at the end of her nose. “My name is Ora Thorton. Today, I will be teaching you how to master entertaining in your formal parlor as well as how to behave as a guest in one.”

  “Oh, I think we can skip both of those. I am an excellent host and guest.”

  The woman shook her head. “This is England. Whatever passed for proper social behavior in America pales in comparison to what is expected in English society—let alone what will be expected of you as a member of the British aristocracy.”

  Debbey’s eyebrows came together with worry. “I had no idea. I assumed I would figure it out as I went along.”

  “The quickest way to embarrass yourself and your husband’s family is to misstep with the nobles watching. Before you argue about whether they will be, let me assure you, it is all they do. The women of the ton love to catch ladies making mistakes. It gives them fodder for their afternoon tea.”

  Embarrassing William was the last outcome Debbey wanted. Even if it meant spending countless uncomfortable hours with the stern woman in front of her, Debbey was willing to suffer through the process to keep from humiliating her husband.

  With a nod, Debbey allowed Miss Thorton to lead her over to the sofa and chairs. Debbey sat on the sofa while the other woman perched on the edge of one of the arm-chairs across from her.

  “Are you familiar with visiting protocol?”

  Debbey shook her head.

  With a narrowed look, the woman admonished, “You should respond verbally when asked a question rather than gesture with your body. That is the second time you have done such.”