“When you judge others, you do not define them, you define yourself.” Earl Nightingale
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Chapter One
September, 1850
Imogen Wilde moved her queen across her father’s fine, marble chess board. The queen, standing diagonally from her rook, had just won Imogen her third chess match that afternoon.
“Check mate again, Papa,” Imogen said tiredly as she tipped her father’s king over.
“You are getting too good for me, Imogen,” commended Emmett with a proud smile as he went to set the board up again.
Imogen’s eyes narrowed. Emmett had sacrificed his queen three minutes into their game and had allowed both his rooks to be captured shortly after.
Imogen was the only one of Emmett’s three children who had the patience to learn and master the game of chess. Though she was not as skilled as her father made her out to be. “You let me win,” Imogen said accusingly. “You always let me win.”
“I do not,” retorted Emmett.
“Papa, chess is your greatest talent and you boast that no one could ever defeat you, yet I do every time. You let me,” Imogen replied tiredly. “You would never let Davy or Allie win,” she added quietly. Their father’s sheer determination to win at chess was why David and Alexandra did not play chess against Emmett. Occasionally, of a quiet evening, they would play against Imogen or their mother, Bess, but never against their father.
Emmett finished assembling the board and sighed. “Imogen, you are my special girl.”
‘Special’ was a word that she heard very often from her family. Lady Imogen Wilde had not been breathing when she was born. The latter of a set of twins, Imogen’s journey into the world was traumatic. The complications of her birth had left her physically weak in strength and incredibly small in stature. She stood a mere four feet and eight inches in height and weighed less than eighty pounds.
Imogen could not manage a flight of stairs on her own, nor could she cross a room without leaning on a loved one. She barely had the energy to lift chess pieces without needing to lie down.
“I am not special, Papa,” Imogen murmured as she moved her pawn forward to begin the next match, “only weak.”
“I shall tell you something that my father taught me about weakness,” Emmett offered.
From the stories that her paternal grandmother, Marie, had told about her previous husband, Imogen’s grandfather was not a kindly man.
Emmett looked at his youngest daughter sympathetically. “My father always told me that pain was weakness and weaknesses should never be revealed. Weaknesses are how others exploit us. In my eyes, weaknesses are indeed vices. For example an excessive love of the drink or a gluttonous desire for sweets. A weakness is not something that is bestowed upon you at birth. You are weak physically, yes, but your mind is among the sharpest I know. Look not at what you cannot do, and instead focus on what you can. Now, you insist on a true chess match? Let us play.”
In twelve moves, Emmett had annihilated Imogen and had taken victory. Imogen had been more satisfied with the loss then she had with her multiple victories. “Thank you, Papa,” she said gratefully.
Emmett chuckled as he collected the chess pieces ready to put them away.
Imogen held the edge of the table and pushed up, using what little arm strength she had, to bring herself to her feet. She took several deep breaths, ready to make her way over to the settee to sit with her mother, sister, and sister-in-law.
“Do I dare ask if you want to be helped to the settee, Imogen?” murmured Emmett.
As she had grown older, Imogen had become more and more determined to do things on her own, even more so after her season in London had resulted in her often being referred to as the ‘sickly daughter of the Duke of Ascot’.
Imogen merely shook her head as she began walking over to the settee slowly. She had mastered the art of walking over the years, ensuring that her movements appeared soft and graceful. Inside, though, her legs often became heavy and her breathing strained. If ever she over exerted herself, her vision would become hazy. It was not unusual for Imogen to faint out of pure stubbornness, rather than asking for assistance.
Two minutes later, Imogen lowered herself down onto the settee next to her sister, Alexandra. Emmett had been hovering behind her, but upon Imogen sitting down, he sat beside Bess on the opposite settee.
Alexandra was cuddling one of their elder brother’s four week old newborn daughters. Like Alexandra and Imogen, David and Elena’s twin girls were not identical. They each had their own distinctive appearance.
Alexandra held Aurelia Marisol, who had inherited her mother’s dark hair and eyes. Her complexion was not as brown as Elena’s, but there was a distinct tan to her skin. Elena held Ana Sofía, the fairer haired of the twins, had inherited David’s blue eyes.
The twins had arrived mere days after David and Elena had returned to Ascot from London. The family had quickly returned once they had received the news of Aurelia and Ana’s births.
With the nursery suddenly full, Maggie and Max had decided to leave Ascot with their two daughters, Janna and Nora. They, along with Rose, Derek, and Grace, shortly after, had left to live at Salisbury Hall with Rebecca rather than fill the family bedrooms that the growing Wilde brood would soon need.
“Did you want to hold Ana, Imogen?” asked Elena. It was hard to believe that Elena had been born to royalty. She behaved so humbly, preferring to do things herself, rather than ring for a servant. She was so kind and unpretentious, and she fitted in with the Wildes perfectly. Becoming a mother had only added to her wonderful character.
Imogen did like cuddling her nieces, though she knew that her family were only comfortable with her holding the infants when she was seated. The concerns had never been voiced, but Imogen had become accustomed to reading faces. Because of her condition, people were very careful around her, not ever wanting to say the wrong thing. Little did they know that their faces said what they were thinking anyway. “Yes, please,” Imogen replied eagerly as she positioned her arms ready for little Ana to be placed there.
Elena gently placed Ana, who had drifted off to sleep, into Imogen’s arms. Imogen thought that her nieces were marvellous. She thought them perfect and innocent. They were brand new, yet to learn of the hardships of the world that they had been born in to. Of course, the girls were the daughters of the future Duke of Ascot. They would not face as many hardships as Imogen had.
“Alright, Allie, you have had enough of a cuddle. Let Grandmamma have a turn,” Bess said impatiently as she held her arms out for Aurelia.
Imogen smiled. Bess adored being a grandmother. She had watched both Charlotte and Rose become step-grandmothers to Maggie and Max’s children, and she had craved a grandchild of her own to spoil. In their four short weeks of life, the girls already had enough coats and booties to see them through a thousand winters. Bess had quickly set to work with her knitting and crochet needles.
Alexandra stood up and walked over to the opposite settee to place Aurelia in Bess’ arms. Imogen felt a slight hint of jealousy as she watched her sister walk with the baby without anyone batting an eye. She knew if she tried to stand while holding Ana that there would be gasps and fretting hands and Ana would be taken from her for her safety. While Imogen would never jeopardise her niece’s safety, she wished she could do those sorts of things that others took for granted.
She had never met another person who knew what it was like to be restless within one’s own body, to be trapped inside a body that simply did not work as it should.
Alexandra was the only person with whom Imogen confided in. Alexandra sympathised greatly, though she could never understand. Imogen knew that Alexandra had felt a great deal of guilt over the years, as if somehow she had suffocated Imogen at the time of their birth. Imogen would never allow her sister to blame herself.
Imogen fondly played with Ana’s soft locks. Her hair was so fine. Imogen knew, that as a woman, she should want to have a child of her own, but she did not. She truly believed that by being a mother, she would be putting her own child at risk. She would not be able to rush to its aid, nor carry it or tend it to it properly. Well, Imogen did want a child of her own, but only if she was living in a different body.
“Oh, I love babies,” gushed Alexandra as she longingly looked at Ana in Imogen’s arms.
“If you had accepted one of the many offers you received over the summer then you might have been expecting a child already,” Bess teased in a cooing voice as she fussed over Aurelia.
Alexandra had received many offers over their London season. Alexandra, of course, was disinterested in the dozens of offers she had from eligible gentlemen, as she was still pining after a certain Spanish King, a King that was betrothed to marry someone else. She had rejected the dozens of offers and had come home from London unattached.
Imogen’s season had started just exactly as she had thought it would have. She spent the evenings leaning on her father’s arm, willing her legs not to give out beneath her as she fought her exhaustion. She was ignored, of course, and she was never asked to dance, not that she could. That was when the “sickly” comments had started. Imogen was not sickly. She was frequently seen by physicians at her mother’s insistence. There was nothing wrong with her heart or her lungs or her sight or her hearing. It was simply a physical ailment, a muscular imperfection.
It had ended much the same way. Imogen had returned to Ascot just as unattached as Alexandra.
“There is nothing wrong with waiting for the right gentleman,” Elena said, albeit slightly awkwardly, considering the fact that Alexandra believed the right gentleman for her was Joaquín.
“Thank you, Elena,” Alexandra said smugly.
“Is everyone ready?”
Their attention all turned to the doorway of the drawing room, where a smartly dressed David stood. While it usually took the ladies the longest amount of time to ready themselves for an evening out, it now took David an even longer amount of time. He had spent months carving and welding the new furniture for the nursery, adding Aurelia’s initials to everything. Ever since Ana had arrived, ever spare minute that he was not with Elena and the children, he was creating a double of every piece in the nursery, adding ‘A S W’ to the new pieces. All the physical labour required a bath every day.
But when David wasn’t covered in sweat, soot, and sawdust, he did look quite dashing. Elena seemed to enjoy her husband in whatever state he was in, as she smiled like a schoolgirl whenever she saw him.
“Well, son,” Emmett said teasingly, “we were ready half an hour ago.”
David rolled his eyes. “You will understand when you see the beds I am making for the girls.”
“Beds?” repeated Elena. “I thought you were making cots.”
“I have finished the cots. I am now making their first beds.” David grinned. “Wait until you see them, Elena, they are perfect, even if I do say so myself.” He leant over the back of the settee and kissed Elena’s cheek, wincing slightly as he stuck his cheek on her fancy peineta. Imogen like that Elena still dressed like a Spanish princess.
“Davy, you do know that the girls will not be sleeping in a proper bed for several years yet,” Bess informed him.
“Mama,” David said seriously, “one can never be too prepared when it comes to children.”
Bess merely smiled. She had said many times before that she loved how much he loved his own children already, and how far he was willing to go for them, for his whole family.
Bess stood up from the settee and cradled Aurelia, before motioning for Alexandra to take Ana from Imogen. “We had best take the girls upstairs,” she said wistfully, “then we must move on to Salisbury Hall. We must not keep Colonel Spencer waiting.”
The elusive Colonel Simon Spencer had finally arrived the night before as Emmett had received an invitation to dinner that morning. They were all very excited to meet him, but were curious at Rebecca’s cryptic warning, the warning she had included at the end of her letter: Do not stare.
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Hope you liked it!! On my way to finishing this series! I don't know what I'm going to do after it lol. Probably have to start editing and publishing :P I've been very slack with my editing of my regency seres :P
We went for the final inspection of our new house today which was exciting. They have already moved out so it was empty and my mum is going "I'll have to shampoo the carpets!" We've never had carpet before. My house is entirely floorboards and rugs so I'm getting carpet in my bedroom for the first time ever! I'm also getting a bigger wardrobe thank god!!
But I found out that our internet is being connected the day we move in so the minute my room is set up and I'm comfy on my bed, I'll get writing the next chapter :)
Let me know what you think :) I can't wait to introduce you to Simon. A lot has happened to him since the last time he saw his brother. I look forward to reading your guesses!
Vote and comment!!