Page 8 of Lydia Acquires Adoration (Bennet Ladies Liberation #5)

Chapter Seven

Sebastian held still as his valet shaved his face, giving into his need to move about at that point in his morning’s ablutions would have consequences. Despite being granted a reprieve of sorts, Sebastian had found little sleep and no answers in the intervening night. When he had deemed a decent hour to ring for Davies, he had already been up for hours pacing his room.

Thanks to Davies's thoughtful gesture of bringing him coffee, he now felt less sleep deprived. He was, however, also more eager to roam. A need to expend nervous energy pulled at him. Waiting until the razor was away from his face, Sebastian asked, “If you were given thirty days to find a bride and wed, what would you do?”

Davies looked at his master momentarily before he wiped the lather from the blade in his hand with a towel. It almost seemed as if he would not answer, but Sebastian knew he was a man of deep thoughts. Davies had never steered him wrong in the past when he had asked him for advice on a subject. Davies was not the most loquacious of men, but he was exceedingly steady. Finally he said, “I would look to a woman I already knew. As the heir of a viscount, many women would marry you with no courting at all. Any woman you met and attempted to court and marry in thirty days’ time would most likely look at it from a standpoint of security and materialistic concerns. Which is fine for many people. However, if you do not mind my saying so, I do not believe you would be happy in that sort of arrangement, sir. Yes, I believe you would be better off looking at women you already know to an extent, where there is already a certain amount of amiability or even affection.”

What Davies said contained much sense, though Sebastian did not feel as if he had been magically granted any answers. Nodding, he held still once more so that Davies could finish, and he could go pace somewhere else. He needed to think, and he did that best while moving.

Soon enough, he was outside of Pemberley, winding his way through one of the many gardens Sebastian had begun to think. Davies had said that he should look to one of the women he knew already. It made sense, to a certain extent, he would know something about their disposition and preferences. The question that he was left with, however, was if he had liked a woman he had met enough to want to marry her, wouldn’t he already be married? Or at least engaged?

Spending much of his time in town, he had met any number of debutantes and rarely found himself impressed. Or at least impressed enough to want to do something about it. There was also the fact that many of those who spent their time in town did it because they chose to. They enjoyed it there. He did not, or at least he did not like it as much as he once had. He had to think that picking one of the women he had met in London would not go well if he was set to spend the majority of his time going forward in the country overseeing Swarkstone.

Regardless of the way his marriage was starting, he hoped that he could at least develop a closeness, a friendship of sorts. Love may be off the table, but he did not want the contractual cold thing he saw so often in town. Maybe he would do well if he decided what he wanted in a bride? It would help him narrow down his list of potential brides, so to speak. Not that any names had come to mind.

He wanted a woman who would be willing to spend time with him and his niece. If he had to choose something to put at the top of the list, it would have to be that she treat his niece and sister with love and kindness. He would not permit any cattiness or meanness of spirit to hurt either of them. It was something he too often saw among those of the ton.

Being a gentleman, he was not privy to the world of women, but he had overheard enough backhanded compliments and seen the tears in the eyes of debutantes at balls to know nastiness when he saw it. Then too, his sister shared much of what transpired when she went round making calls. They were close, and he did not want to lose that by marrying the wrong woman.

Beauty was something he could put on his list, or at least attraction. He wanted children of his own, and being attracted to his wife would certainly help matters. It might be best if she also wanted children. While sharing a child could potentially foster a strong connection, he knew that thought was for a much later time.

So kindness and love for his niece and his sister, mutual attraction, and a desire for children. What else? Did he really want nothing else besides being a good and loving person? Stopping to ponder the question, he examined the bright pink blooms on the plant in front of him. He had no idea what it was, but it was beautiful. Looking around, he realized that the flower garden he had been ignoring in his distraction was really quite beautifully done.

Reaching out, he fingered the edge of a bloom just beginning to bud, and was startled when he heard, “Those are gladiolus.”

Lydia had watched Mr. Burgess wander through the garden before she spoke, saying “Those are gladiolus.”

It was obvious that he had seen neither her nor the gardener that had been moving about the flower garden that morning. Startling at her voice, he turned away from the plant that she had been carefully cultivating since moving to Pemberley and looked at her. Though he was well dressed and presumably freshly shaved, he still seemed to be subdued. It was clear to Lydia that he had gotten little to no sleep.

Was the news truly so very bad? There had been talk of fighting the other relatives in court in order to see to Clara’s care. Was that no longer the case? Regardless of the questions whirling through her mind, Lydia knew it was not the time to attack him with her own concerns when he so obviously was struggling with his own. Accepting her shears from the gardener, she stepped around him to trim a few sprigs for the flower arrangements she had risen early to work on.

After a moment, Mr. Burgess said, “I do not believe I have seen their like, but then again, I am not one to study flowers often.”

Turning to him, she gestured to the basket over her arm full of blooms. “I love flowers. Not only are they beautiful, but they are often useful. There is even a language of flowers which I have always delighted in.”

Tilting his head, Mr. Burgess smiled. “Oh? What can you say with flowers?”

Lydia decided he looked much better with a smile brightening his previously worried features. Looking into her basket, Lydia pulled out an aster with its star-like bloom and purple hue. “Asters represent love and wisdom. While the gladiolus you were looking at, with its sword-like shape, is said to represent strength.” Shifting a few of the blooms, Lydia carefully drew out an iris and continued, “Irises represent hope. So if I were to present you with an arrangement of flowers of all three, I would be saying I hope for love, wisdom, and strength to prevail.”

Carefully watching Mr. Burgess as she spoke, Lydia saw the moment of understanding flash through his eyes. He was quick to ask, “And has that been your task this morning? Gathering blooms to help us along?”

“Having a pretty room to have a hard discussion in cannot hurt matters. I have never known flowers to make things worse and if I help the group make wise decisions with my own form of encouragement, all the better.” Lydia flashed him a warm smile, hoping he would feel encouraged by her expression and words.

She found that she really was not fond of how downtrodden he had seemed when he first came into the garden. She had always known him to be a kind and happy gentleman, and it was a pity that he seemed to have turned a hard corner in life. Both he and his sister Selene only wanted what was best for precious little Clara. That poor girl who seemed nearly afraid of her own shadow only deserved the best love and care. Lydia had decided the moment she met the little sprite that she would do all in her power to help the Burgess siblings protect and care for her.

Lydia hoped she wasn't imagining things as she saw a hint of burden lift from Mr. Burgess's shoulders when he smiled back at her. Maybe that was relief in his eyes when he said, “Thank you, Miss Bennet. Your support at this time means a lot to me and my family.”

“I could imagine doing nothing else.” Gathering flowers for a few arrangements to show her support was not much, but it was one of the best ways she knew how. She always loved speaking with flowers. “I will leave you to your contemplations, for now, though do not lose yourself so much that you forget to come in and partake of some breakfast. Otherwise I might have to send one of the footmen out searching for you to bring you as I would Artie.”

Giving Mr. Burgess a small curtsy, she moved on. The gardener followed closely behind her as she checked over her buds and blooms, and she couldn't resist gathering a few more flowers that she spotted along the way. Lydia had things she wanted to accomplish before she broke her own fast.

Everyone had gathered together in a rather homey sitting room, and despite how comfortable it was, Sebastian still did not feel at ease. He knew he had eaten. His sister pestered him about his empty plate, but he could not for the life of him remember what he had consumed. Food was there and then it wasn’t, and he could not say what it had been at all. Now they were all gathered with tea or coffee in hand, waiting for him to speak.

His time was up. They were all looking at him, waiting for an explanation of what he had learned at the will reading. Even Mrs. Darcy, so recently out of childbed, had come downstairs and was staring at him with a penetrating gaze.

Finding the need to clear his throat, he took a sip of his coffee and said, “Though there were a lot of legal words I did not completely follow, in essence, the will stated that Clara was her father’s primary heir. Except for a few bequests to the staff, Clara is the main beneficiary of the estate. Baron Blackthorn was not well pleased to learn that his brother had left him nothing but was, after a few expressions of anger, escorted from the property.”

Herrington, present in a chair near Darcy, added, “I do not believe that is the last we will see or hear from Baron Blackthorn. He has a reputation in some of the seedier parts of London for being swift to mete out retribution to anyone who dares to slight him. He is evidently in need of an infusion of funds that his brother’s estate would provide. At present, his main source of income is derived from engaging in blackmail.” Sebastian could see the distaste that Herrington had for Blackthorn in the way his face scrunched up when he said the word blackmail. It certainly did not speak well for the man to use blackmail as a sort of income rather than his own hard work and effort. Then again, he had known the man was disreputable soon after he had found out about him.

Mrs. Darcy spoke up at that point speaking to Herrington, saying, “It is always easier to deal with men like him when you have enough knowledge going into matters. Thank you for letting us know Baron Blackthorn may be an issue. Our family has dealt with underhanded gentlemen before and has come out on top. We will know how to protect ourselves and those we care for.” She might have smiled at Herrington as she spoke, but there was iron in her words.

Sebastian had met all the Bennet sisters at one time or another, and they all shared at least two traits. The first thing he had seen was kindness in their treatment of others and those they loved. Every action they took and every person they encountered were touched by their overwhelming kindness. The other side of that coin, however, was a core of steel. They allowed no harm to come to anyone if it was in their power to protect them. If you threatened one of them or theirs, the knives came out, sometimes literally.

Looking at the woman who had welcomed them into her own, Sebastian said, “I would like to thank you for being so willing to include my sister, Clara, and me in that group.”

Herrington put down his teacup and sat forward in his chair, saying, “As the rest is more on the legal side of things, I will explain matters. There was a clause that Cornelius Blakesley added to his will, detailing the parameters for her care. The first being that the guardian must prove that you have the child’s best interests at heart. Niles Coulson, the solicitor handling the matter, explained that he believed that both Mr. and Miss Burgess had demonstrated that in bringing Clara away from such a dysfunctional household and taking her to a place that she could be safe and well cared for.”

“Of course we have her best interests at heart!” cried Selene. “She is our niece, after all.”

Rubbing at the twitching behind his eyebrow, Sebastian replied, “Yes, she is our niece, and we care for her dearly. However, she is also Blackthorn’s niece, and he referred to her as both Laura and the brat.” The look on the faces of everyone in the room seemed to match the feelings that Sebastian had developed towards the man.

Continuing where he had left off, Herrington said, “The second provision is that the person who gains guardianship must live at Swarkstone Park at least a portion of every year in order to oversee its upkeep and care for the tenants. In actuality, this is a very smart parameter. That way, when Miss Clara comes of age, she will be assured of a solvent estate. Also, the estate must remain profitable in order for the guardianship to not fall into jeopardy.”

Sebastian knew what was coming and still he cringed when Herrington once more began to speak. “The third provision is going to be the most problematic for you. Because it is where Cornelius Blakesley stated that whoever claims guardianship must be married. Now he lists both Burgess siblings as possible guardians, but whoever claims guardianship must be married. He allows for a thirty-day grace period from the reading of the will.”

There was absolute silence in the room for a full minute before Selene asked, her voice trembling, “And if neither of us are married within the thirty-day deadline, what happens with Clara?”

Clearing his throat, Herrington responded, “The will states that her care falls to Blackthorn if neither of you choose to meet the provisions set forth. I do not believe becoming married would be an impediment of any sort to him, though I would pity any woman bound to him in such a way.”

“Then there is no choice.” Swallowing convulsively, Selene said, “I have had a number of offers I could—”

Sebastian stood and shook his head vehemently as he moved to his sister. “No, I will not let you sacrifice yourself in that way. Think, Selene. We would just be giving Clara’s care to another man with questionable intentions. You refused those men for valid reasons. I will not hand you and Clara over to someone I cannot trust.”

Selene took Sebastian’s hand and, squeezing it, whispered, “But what other option is there? It is not like you have been courting anyone. Whoever would you marry?”

“Me. He will marry me.” In an instant, the room went from quietly tense to filled with breathless astonishment as Lydia's statement hung in the air.