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What nerve he'd had!
Lady Havenshire had lost the inclination to go riding; while it had always been one of her favorite pastimes, and she looked forward to her first afternoon spent atop her trusted steed Shadow, the sight of her father and that lord conspiring to usurp her individuality had put her off the stables; off of quite a bit of everything. Instead she stood now at the top of the stairwell, glancing down into the foyer, with her helmet, jacket and jodhpurs replaced by a flowing white gown and her messy hair falling across her shoulder, she waited indignantly for her father to return from the stables. She had quite a lot she wanted to say to him, even if it vexed her to think of his poor condition and how he had truly wanted the best for her.
But how could he or anyone other than her, know what she most wanted in the world?
The nerve, that Lord Beckham must've had, to answer a summons after last night. They'd spoken, and she'd realized he had been the same as every other man - always happy to step atop a woman to elevate themselves, even their own mothers, daughters, and sisters. Their conversation had been nil after that particular exchange; she had no real interest in entertaining more words from a man who had benefited so crassly from the institutions she hated. Lady Henrietta had poked her head in between the two of them from time to time...
Lady Henrietta! Lady Havenshire's rage only grew as she thought on how this had all come to pass. No doubt that insufferable old woman had gotten into her father's ear just last night, crowing on about how wonderful the event had been; how Nadia had been chattering on with a lord whom Lady Henrietta thought to be a suitable suitor. This had all been her doing, hadn't it? Fuming, Nadia stared intently at the door, arming herself with one argument, and then another, preparing to eviscerate her father's own arguments about her fate and about Lord Beckham.
She had not been completely without base in making such assumptions. Of course, he had benefited from a crooked system, he had stepped over his sister! But Lady Havenshire had not failed to give him credit for his charms; for his open mind. He had made her laugh, after all; something none in England hadm managed in earnest for quite some time. His voice commanding, she could even appreciate how handsome he was; something she had long ago given up on finding properly in England. He had certainly been different from the others... but not so different, she reassured herself. As attractive, and interesting, as the man had proven, she wouldn't become just another woman like her friends, giving up their minds and wills to marry for inheritance and social gain.
Curious maidservants scrambled about the polished furniture and the long shadows of nightfall crossing through the foyer, their eyes flashing over angry Lady Havenshire, words of lilted gossip passing across their tongues. Nadia crossed her arms, her expression cross, as she watched the doors to the manor open slowly, a thunderstorm brewing without, rumbles echoing across the trees and grasses of the Emerys estate.
"I've good news," the tired duke announced as he closed the door behind him. "Lord Beckham has expressed a potential interest in courting you, Nadia."
"Did you see him off, then?" Nadia asked her father, ignoring his proud pronouncement, as he tiredly crossed the threshold. "Is he going back to his estate?" he lifted his gaze, his face weary; she felt a tw
inge of concern for her father in his heart, knowing that he had spent more time out of bed trying to impress today than he likely had in the months since he'd fallen ill.
"Nadia," he responded, his voice weak, "I had invited Lord Beckham here as a guest. I have respected you, my daughter, for your impudence for quite a long time, but treating my guests in this manner... it's not acceptable."
"He was no ordinary guest, father, and it's insulting of you to lie to me in such a manner," Nadia fumed. "I know just why you invited him, and I know just why agreed to come here. Lady Henrietta has been singing quite melodically into your ear all night and all day, hasn't she, father?"
"Lady Henrietta sings quite a great many tunes into my ear each day, Nadia, do you think I listen to every bit of gossip she blurts out?" her father responded harshly, dragging himself slowly towards the stairs.
"I think she mentioned the possibility of pairing me off with some man, and you leapt at the opportunity, having your courier send a message all the way to Berrewithe before dawn had even broken," Nadia sniped back.
"I work with haste because I haven't got all teh time in the world to assure your future, and the future of my family and estate, is secure," Lord Havenshire rumbled in response. He began to scale the stairwell, one step at a time, each step a monumental task of its own.
"Father, please, you speak with so much certainty when you say that," Nadia retorted sharply.
"I speak with certainty because it is a certainty," her father exclaimed. "It is a certainty I will die - whether sooner, or later, and it is a certainty that when I do, my estate - my life, everything - either falls into your hands, or you lose everything; all of the servants lose everything. Do you know how precarious I feel, in this position?" he shuddered as he bounded another step, rain beginning to pour against the windowpanes.
"Father, have you ever considered my own thoughts and feelings in your calculations about this estate? About the inheritance? When you called me back to England, did that matter to you? What I wanted? Is it so selfish of your daughter to want the freedom that you've always enjoyed, father?" Nadia said, her voice warbling as the seriousness of her father's condition began to set in.
"Nadia, I have always thought about your feelings," Lord Havenshire croaked, "from the moment I watched you born; watched you grow. I would change our world if I could, but that's too much effort for one dying, old man," he continued, breathlessly; he nearly collapsed half-way up the stairs, falling to one knee with a groan. Nadia gasped, rushing spiritedly down the stairs to her father's side, slinging his arm over her shoulder and lifting him.
"Father, please, be careful, don't hurt yourself," she whispered, hefting him up as best she could. "You need to rest. We'll... we'll get past this," she murmured, her own hope about her father's condition beginning to fade away as tears stained red rivulets along her cheeks.
"Nadia, I've only ever wanted to help you, my daughter," Lord Havenshire said, tone full of regret.
"I know father, I know," she assured him tearfully.
"Lord... Lord Beckham, he seems a good man, and more than anything, he's... he's the sort of man who will indulge you, indulge your thoughts, and your fantasies, bless him," her father laughed, as they scaled another step together.
"H... how do you mean?" Nadia questioned, confused, hoisting her father up another stair as a flash of lightning streaked across their faces.
"Something Lady Henrietta said caught my ear, and it's the only reason I agreed to see this man, to judge him, Nadia," Lord Havenshire said, his voice having fallen to a wobbly whisper. "She said... she said she saw him make you laugh. Nadia, my love, I've not seen you laugh from the joke or foible of a man since you were so young that you laughed at everything," he confided in her. "If he had made you laugh... something, in your hearts, I knew... I knew he would... he would be right, for..." he had begun to give in to his fatigue, his words growing delirious. "He... he believes you, in your... your words, about, about women, but..."
"Father, please, you're tired, save your strength," Nadia whispered. One step left, and her knees nearly buckled as she lifted her father, whose legs had given in and whose body had become a heavy, limp mass of disease-ravaged flesh. Ms. Mulwray emerged from the hall lead to the master bedroom, her face full of concern.
"M'lord?" she asked frightfully, rushing to aid Nadia by slinging her master's other arm across her shoulders.
"He'll be fine, Ms. Mulwray, he's simply exhausted," Nadia whispered.
"I warned him, I told him Egan and I and Lady Henrietta could speak with this suitor and report to him, he needn't trouble himself," Ms. Mulwray hissed. "I warned him..."
"He wanted to help me, in his own way," Nadia sighed, her tears slowing. They hobbled together with her drowsy father through the corridor to the darkened room, lightning flashing again as rain pattered hard against the roof, pouring down and filling all the crevices and cracks, with droplets coalescing into little running rivers of rainwater. They crept through the darkness, gently laying the aging man out onto the bed, carefully covering his body with a blanket, lighting a small candle to provide some source of light in utter darkness.
