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Hawthorne nodded. “Those who wish to open their eyes and notice the themes in my art and remember the rumors about me will know that our house is a bastion of safety for them. That someone among the highest of the land is one of them and will fight to protect them.”
“You can invite members from both the House of Lords, and the House of Commons,” Phin said. “And the Prime Minister. They shall all see what you stand for.”
Hawthorne took a pinch of snuff. “And the Prince Regent. Anne, if your sterling reputation can convince him to come, and if everyone can see that I have the favor of the prince—then I shallhave it all.” He bowed. “It’s as I told you. Together, we rule, my dear duchess. It’s simply an unconventional coronet that we wear on our heads.”
* * *
Anne and Hawthorne spent the next few weeks planning the details of the grand opening and debating over guest lists and menus. Letty focused on the finishing touches for the first floor. Most of it was complete, and it gave her a strange feeling to think of the house being finished.
Endings were always difficult.
When she had started, it had been difficult to conceive of an end point, but Anne had eased off on the initial instruction of redoing absolutely everything. All of the bedchambers had now been refreshed, and all of the important public rooms had been redone, but there were several parlors, the library, and the ballroom that they decided didn’t need to be touched.
The public rooms were exactly as Letty had envisioned them. She had completed the rooms inspired by fire and ice, and the one that, to her, symbolized Anne with the morning dawn. Instead of massive displays of wealth, she thought the rooms conveyed something meaningful, of love and perseverance and growth and change. She was proud to think of people viewing her work.
Letty was now arranging things in the statuary, which she called the Ocean Room. It represented the tide change, the ebb and flow of relationships, bringing people back together. It was a room meant for Anne and Hawthorne. Filmy turquoise and blue curtains hung from ceiling to floor, which would move in the breeze like waves when the large French doors were open in the summer. She had designed a set of wind chimes that would tinkle in the air like rocks washing together at the seashore, hoping that the illusion of the ocean could be brought together by both visual and aural cues.
The walls were lightest seafoam green, and the trims were white. She had hand-carved the molds for the plaster baseboard and crown molding, with bold swirls and curls for the froth of the ocean’swaves. Seashells were arranged along a narrow ledge that ran the length of the room, and Letty hadn’t been able to resist adding clam shells with handfuls of pearls shining all around the room.
Anne studied the statues that had taken all the footmen she could find in order to move them into the room. Some of them were nudes, classical Greek statues of Adonis and Zeus, and some were animals, including Letty’s favorite from Hawthorne’s collection—a hawk with outstretched wings, so realistic that she felt it could take off in flight at any moment.
“It’s marvelous,” Anne said. “I had never thought to see what Hawthorne had collected over the years. Perhaps I was too afraid to open the warehouse stores, scared of what I might find.”
Letty stood on her toes to hang a painting on the wall, a furious oil painting of crashing waves and shipwreck. “He has a wonderful collection. I would welcome any chance to go back if you would like a guide through the warehouse.”
The butler entered the room. “Your Grace, Miss Barrow. I apologize for interrupting, but there is a party to see you in the blue parlor.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Twenty years had passed since Letty had seen most of them, but the Wilson family looked much the same as ever. Lady Wilson had rather more wrinkles now compared to when she had scolded Letty all through their town for trying to abscond with her son, but she still had the same nervous habit of tapping her fan. Currently, it was bouncing against her knee. Beth, John’s eldest sister, had the same snide look on her face that Letty remembered from when she used to chaperone them. Susan, the younger sister, was preening at herself in the mirror above the mantel. The Wilsons had always been boisterous and snobby, and they remained true to form even in a duchess’s parlor.
The butler, of course, had announced them by their married names. Beth was now Mrs. Anderson, and Susan had become Mrs. Talbot, but Letty had such vivid recollections of John’s sisters as how theywere. She couldn’t break the habit of thinking of them by their Christian names.
Letty tried not to take their manners to heart, but it was difficult. She had furnished this parlor, from the royal blue carpet to the stately Windsor chairs to the elegant brass chandelier. Watching the Wilsons looking down their noses at them set her teeth on edge. The room wasn’t meant for the likes of them. It had been designed for Anne, and for the people who fit into her life.
Which the Wilson family decidedly didn’t.
They were the ragged edges of Letty’s past. She had tried to leave them there where they belonged, but they managed to crawl their way to the forefront of her life when they so pleased.
Her mouth felt unaccountably dry, and she wished Anne would call for tea. Then a shudder ran through her at the thought of prolonging this visit by even one extra minute. She despised that their presence still made her heart race, but she had been thrown out of her father’s home because of them. They had thrust her into destitution after John’s death. Only her own wits and skills had saved her.
What was Robert doing here with them?
“Not enough embellishment for my tastes,” Beth murmured in sotto voice. “Rather plain, isn’t it, Susan?”
“Indeed it is,” Susan agreed, then blanched as she caught Anne’s eye. “Not to say that Your Grace doesn’t have impeccable taste!”
“Miss Barrow was of infinite help in decorating the room,” Anne said. “It is marvellously well done.”
Beth tittered. “Miss Barrow is an industrious woman indeed. How good of you to work, poor dear, to support yourself.”
She managed to smile without baring her teeth. “Needs must. Especially after you cut off my stipend.”
Lady Wilson gasped and rapped the table with her fan. “How very rude, Miss Barrow! Discussing financial matters in front of the Duchess of Hawthorne!”
“However did you think the duchy came to have such a house without stooping to discuss a financial matter or two?” Anne asked, her voice cold with displeasure. Her eyes glinted with fury that the Wilson family didn’t seem to pick up on.
Robert had edged to the far side of the room, looking more than a trifle indisposed. Letty couldn’t blame him. The Wilsons were enough to give anyone indigestion, and she had shielded him from the worst of their qualities for so long. This must be one of their very first encounters.
