Page 69 of A Landscape of Love

“Then it is a wonderful name,” Fidelia said firmly, though her voice quaked as she spoke. “And I approve wholeheartedly.”

Elmira sighed, understanding and pity shining in her eyes. “Would you like to meet him?”

Hart tightened his grip on Fidelia’s hand as her lip trembled, but she nodded eagerly, scrubbing the handkerchief over her eyes.

“I’ll run and fetch him.” Elmira scrambled to her feet and hurried from the room.

Larkin slipped out after her and Hart watched his wife, who turned her face to him, sorrow and happiness shining in her eyes.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said helplessly.

“I know, love,” he replied, finding his own voice unsteady. “Because you have the kindest, most loving heart of anyone in the world. I’m so proud of you, Fidelia. I love you,” he added, finding it suddenly the easiest thing in the world to tell her what was in his heart.

She smiled at that and made a choked sound, her eyes glittering with tears, with joy at his words, and he was so glad he could give her that, at least, if not her son. “You’ll make me cry again! Oh, what would I do without you, my Hart? Thank you for everything. I love you quite hopelessly, I hope you know, but stop this now, for I am weeping again, and I don’t want to frighten Arthur by sobbing all over him.”

“He’ll love you,” Hart assured her, taking the handkerchief from her hands and tenderly wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “Just give him time, eh?”

She nodded, her breath catching as Larkin returned with Elmira, who was hand-in-hand with Fidelia’s son. He was an angelic-looking child, pink-cheeked, with Fidelia’s clear blue eyes and a shock of curling blond hair. Arthur looked at the assembled company cautiously, glancing up at Elmira for reassurance.

“It’s all right, my love,” Elmira said. “This is Mr De Beauvoir. He’s the one who sent all those lovely strawberry plants. Do you remember?”

The little boy beamed. “I like strawberries,” he said hopefully.

“Not yet, my lamb. It’s too early in the year, but in a few more weeks you’ll have strawberries. For now, I’d like you to meet someone. This lady is a dear friend, and we’re going to see her often. She’s called Fidelia. You can call her Auntie Fidelia, if you like.”

Arthur gave Fidelia a shy smile, leaning into Elmira’s skirts.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Fidelia said unsteadily, holding onto Hart’s hand for support. “I’m very glad to meet you. Are those your building blocks I can see?”

Arthur looked at the stack of blocks in the corner of the room and nodded. “Do you want to build a castle?”

“Oh, yes,” Fidelia said eagerly. “I would like that better than anything in the world.”

Arthur grinned at her and trotted over, gathering up an armful of bricks and dropping them at her feet. Fidelia bent down as Arthur moved to and fro, bringing the bricks to her, and she helped him build his castle.

Hart looked on, finding his eyes strangely wet as he watched his wife with her son, watched her carefully laying the foundations for a place in his life, but doing it with such delicacy and tenderness that the boy would never know a moment's distress. She was the bravest, most wonderful, and loving woman in the entire world, and for some reason, she had chosen to love him too. In that moment, Hart accepted that fact as he had been unable to do before. It had seemed too unlikely to him that a woman from Fidelia’s station in life could truly feel for him everything that she claimed to feel. But now, seeing how she set aside her own hopes and dreams for the sake of the child she had brought into the world, seeing how selfless and good she was, Hart believed it. There was no one else in the world like Lady Fidelia, and she was his.

Chapter 19

Fourteen months later…

Dear sir,

I recently had the good fortune of visiting the gardens at Hardacre Hall in Derbyshire. What I discovered there took my breath away. Whilst the garden is young yet, I have never before seen the new fashion for Italian gardens delivered with such skill and delicacy of hand. The vista leading down to the lake past the fountains was so beautiful I found myself profoundly moved and, I confess, horribly jealous.

I want such a garden. If you would kindly meet with me at your convenience, I would be pleased to discuss a new venture for a garden on a scale far larger and more ambitious than the one at Hardacre Hall.

―Excerpt of a letter to Mr Hartley De Beauvoir, from His Grace, The Duke of Kingston.

5th May 1851, Brightling Place, Chelsea, London.

“So, your mama will pick you up next Friday, is that all right? You’ll be with us for an entire week this time,” Hart said, glancing down at Arthur, who was holding his hand as they walked through the gardens. The boy nodded happily, scrunching up his nose. A dusting of freckles scattered it. He was a sweet child, though just as mischievous as any little boy of his age ought to be. The grand house that Hart had promised his wife looked lovely in the sunshine and the gardens, whilst still young, were already a riot of colour. Arthur grinned at him.

“Yes, Uncle, I’ve been looking forward to coming. Is Alex here yet?”

“No. He’ll be here later, though. He’s travelling down from university this afternoon.”

There had been a good deal of wrangling with the duke over Alex, but the young man had dug in his heels and told his father he’d never speak to him again if he didn’t let him go to university. After seeing how courageous his sister had been, Alex had grown in confidence and fortitude and would no longer allow his grace to bully him. Of course, it helped that Hart had promised to fund his education and give him an allowance if his father was so short-sighted as to cut him off. In the end, it hadn’t been necessary. Alex had prevailed, though as far as Beresford was concerned, his eldest daughter was dead to him.