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“On behalf of my suddenly mute daughter, thank you,” Lady Eleanor said, only to have Esther gasp.
“Mother!” She spluttered.
“And now you are not,” lifting her cup, the dowager smiled to Esther then addressed the Captain again. “I am told you are from the Navy and you fought in France. On behalf of those who cannot voice their gratefulness, I thank you for your service.”
Dipping his head, Arthur took her compliments, “I’m humbled to hear that, Your Grace.”
Clearing her throat, Esther added, “‘Twas not only France, Mother. He has travelled more: Africa Spain, Russia, and Austria.”
“But they were all for the war, My Lady, and I would rather not reflect on the war now,” Arthur replied. “I am proud of what I had accomplished by putting Bonaparte away, Your Grace, but it is not a particular part of my life I like to reflect on.”
Inclining her head graciously, Lady Eleanor said, “And no one should ask that of you. I understand that you sent my daughter that elegant bouquet of white roses and snowdrops. What a lovely combination.”
“I cannot take all the credit, Your Grace,” Arthur replied. “I must admit I have help in choosing the arrangement. I speak four dialects but, apparently, there is a language to flowers, one of which I am completely ignorant. Thankfully, someone translated it for me.”
Laughing softly, Lady Eleanor reached for her cup, “Are you a practical man, Captain Morgan?”
“Unquestionably,” Arthur replied. “I prefer pragmatism and common-sense over idealism and naïveté. Not to say that those ideals have their roles in life, and while others dream their way through, but I cannot live under that philosophy.”
“I have met a few soldiers in my life, and I cannot say that any of them see life through an illusion,” Lady Eleanor commiserated. “Your sort has had your principles ripped away from you by the atrocious things you’ve seen.”
Arthur attempted a smile, but the twitch at the corner of his lips fell flat, “That is the most accurate understanding of our ordeal I have ever heard, thank you for your regard, Your Grace.”
“Now that you are home, what will you do?” Lady Eleanor asked.
“I am still trying to decide on that,” Arthur replied. “Many of my fellows have gone on to take their handsome payments and retire to a country villa, but I cannot. It is bred in me to be active and I will find an occupation to fit it.”
“And what of a family?” Lady Eleanor asked. “Any relatives, Captain?”
“I am an only son and my father passed away when I was quite young. The masters of Eton and Oxford raised me,” Arthur replied. “I hardly think I can count them as family.”
Flitting her fingertips over the base of her throat, Lady Eleanor nodded, “Well I am assured that a man of your talents will never have a lack of opportunities. Now, I think we have skirted the main issue long enough; should I anticipate a courtship request from you, Captain?”
“Actually,” Arthur said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper. “I had intended to hand it to His Grace.”
Shock radiated from the top of Esther's head to the tips of her toes, and she rested the cup with trembling fingers. Elegantly, Lady Eleanor took the papers and opened them; while Esther’s hands clenched and unclenched on her lap anxiously.
Silently, her mother closed the letter, “It is all there and more, Captain Morgan. I am duly impressed, and I believe you will be a lovely partner for Esther. Your self-control and level-headedness that I have perceived you have will be a real contrast to Esther’s natural fancifulness and whimsy—”
“Mother!” Esther exclaimed in horror.
Lady Eleanor slid a glance over to Esther but did not break in her sentence, “—and I give you full permission for this courtship.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Arthur dipped his head.
Stepping away from the table, her mother said, “I will get a quill to sign it; just a moment.”
Esther knew that her mother could have sent a maid for the quill-pen, but her mother must have understood that Esther needed a moment with Arthur, and there were maids in the room, so they were still chaperoned. With Lady Eleanor glided away, Esther turned to Arthur with wide eyes, “Courtship, Arthur?”
“How else would we find if we are truly suited?” Arthur replied, reached over to flitter his fingers over her cheek, “Do you not think it wise?”
Esther nearly leaned into his hand, but heard the soft padding of her mother’s feet, and pulled away. Nevertheless, Lady Eleanor shrewd gaze flicked between them, and her lips curled in—approval?
Resting the inkwell, blotter, and quill on the table, Lady Eleanor took her seat, dipped her quill in, and signed the courtship request with a flourish.
“There. It is official,” Lady Eleanor nodded. “I just hope that this courtship will not end up like John’s.”
“His Grace was courting?” Arthur asked.
“Yes,” Lady Eleanor said, sitting away, “I was told the young lady was a scarlet woman and a deceiver, loving another man while manipulating my son like a puppet. Iwould rather not have my class mixed with that lot.”
A fleeting look of anger flashed across Arthur’s face but in the next breath, it was gone. Esther blinked and brushed the moment off in favour of digesting the revelation; just that morning, John had not even hinted that deceit was the reason he had broken the courtship.
“I am sorry to hear that,” Arthur replied.
Oh, that is why he was angry—his sense of honour felt the slight for John.
“I’m glad that you see that,” Lady Eleanor said. “I despise deceivers. Now, will you stay for dinner, Captain Morgan?”
