“Dear Maria, your cynicism never fails to astound me. Although I am not too fond of England, it is in my blood. So is France, and they are at war. Napoleon seems hell-bent on invading this country, and I fear that it is the working class that are grossly affected by all of this. If I have the means to help them, should I not do so?”
Her argument was the same, whether they were in South America, the Caribbean or the East Indies. Madelene wanted to help the needy, and Maria could not help loving her for it. She may hold the title of an abigail, but she was closer than that. She was like a mother to Madelene, caring for her from her infant years. No one else knew her as she did.
“I understand, child, but sometimes you do too much. You are but nineteen going on twenty, a young girl with her whole life before her. Will you not consider finding a suitor rather than keep your interests with the poor?”
Her question was hopeful, but Maria already knew what the answer would be. The young girl laughed, a tinkling sound that reminded her of streams of moving water. It washed over you, bringing forth a begrudging smile. However, today she could not bring herself to smile, for there was a more significant matter to discuss.
“A suitor? The men of this country leave much to be desired. I would lief marry a seaman than a weak-chinned Englishman. I find them terribly odious.”
Maria’s thoughts travelled to the letter that she had hidden away in her apron pockets and gripped Madelene’s hands with a strength that surprised the young woman.
“Maria?”
“Oh, child. I fear that tying yourself to one of these men may be the only means of securing your safety.”
Alarm widened Madelene’s eyes. “My safety? What could be safer than being tucked away in the countryside? Maria, do not fret so. I’m perfectly safe, unhappy and bored, but safe.”
Maria looked heavenward, shaking her head before releasing Madelene’s hands and reaching into her pocket.
“This came for you – I managed to sneak it in before your aunt caught sight of it. It’s from your father.”
She handed the letter to Madelene, who eagerly took it.
“My father? This is a felicitous moment, Maria. Why have you scrunched your face in that manner?”
“Read it,” Maria said and took a seat on a stool.
Let Madelene read of her father’s news for herself.
Madelene frowned at Maria, quizzical about her strange manner. She opened the letter, thoroughly pleased to have received another letter from her father. She was anxious to hear of his health, their journeys, and word of her many friends. As she read the letter, her face fell. This letter did not bring good news; in fact, it spoke of an imminent threat.
“Why has Lord Allandale set his eyes upon me? What have I done to encourage a tendre from him?”
She travelled back into her memories, trying to discover the exact moment that may have turned the Viscount from the role of a friendly acquaintance to one who saw her in the role of his wife.
“Do you see, ma cherie?” Maria said. “Your safety is at peril. Your father sent you here with the purpose of protecting you from men such as the Viscount of Carlisle. But it seems that he is more determined than we could have imagined.”
Madelene was shocked to her core. Would the Viscount be able to force her into marriage? Every fibre of her being rejected the thought, shuddering with revulsion.
“I could never marry a man such as Lord Allandale!” she cried. “Why, the very thought turns my insides.”
Maria stood up and led her to her bed, sitting down next to her. She gently took the letter from Madelene’s whitened grip.
“We cannot stop him from coming to England, but we can prevent him from giving an offer for your hand. There is no telling what your uncle will do – he is your guardian and charged with your well-being. He is also a man with a gaming problem and could take the wrong path if the Viscount flashes a considerable amount of money.”
Madelene knew that only too well. Uncle Harry’s gambling was well-known by many, and that included his losses. There was no telling what a gambler would do when offered a sizeable bribe for her hand. Fear crept into her, making an already stressful situation markedly worse.
“What can we do, Maria? What hope is there for me to escape his clutches?”
Maria’s answer was simple and yet challenging to absorb.
“Marriage, child. He cannot scheme if you are already taken.”
“Marriage? Your solution is marriage? And who would I marry, pray, tell me.”
Her maid fixed her with a hard stare. “Numerous men have shown their interest, but you have continued to turn them down. Pick one of them.”
But Madelene’s mind rebelled against that notion. She would marry for love, and only for love. She wanted the love that she knew was shared between her parents, and she knew that her father wanted the same.
“But I do not love any of them!”
Maria reached up and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, her expression soft.
“Love will eventually come, ma cherie, but for now you must marry. I would not forgive myself if anything were to happen to you.” She cupped Madelene’s cheek. “You are the daughter that I never had.”
Madelene leaned into Maria’s callused hand, seeking comfort from the woman who had helped raise her to become the young woman she was. Maria’s voice was thick with emotion, her concern for her shining in her loving eyes.
“I know, Maria. But must the solution be marriage? Surely there is another path for me to take.”
Maria’s hand fell away, and she shrugged, bowing her head in distress.
“What other solution can there be? You are a woman living in a man’s world, child. There are not too many paths available to you – you must understand this.”
But Madelene refused to give up. “There has to be, Maria. We just haven’t found it yet.”
And she would, she promised herself. She refused to bend to the will of men.
*****
Harry Huntington, a man who seldom found the need to wail, was doing an excellent job of doing so. His wife was less than amused, having found her husband down in the cups at an unsightly hour.
“I have done a terrible thing, Wife,” he cried. “Cardross might as well draw his sword and be done with me!”
“Oh, do hush, Husband! What is the meaning of all of this? Have you squandered all of our money again?”
A great sob escaped the man, heightening his wife’s annoyance. She went forward and snatched the glass from his hand, spilling the contents into the dying plant sitting beside the window. She banged the glass on the drinks trolley and pushed it away, ensuring that her husband could not reach it unless he pushed past her. Which he will not do, or so help him.
“Speak, you foolish man! What losses have you incurred this time? Do you mean to leave us penniless? Our daughters are to be wed – who will pay for their weddings?”
Harry let his head fall heavily on his arms. Weak man! He cannot even look me directly in the eye! He mumbled his words, making her strain to hear him.
“Please, Wife, have mercy on me. There are worse things than being out of money.”
“Ha!” she laughed, a bitter sound that brought forth a moan from her husband. “Have you no sense in your head? Did someone tip you a settler?”
He looked up. “Of course not! No one has hit me! The thought!”
He seemed indignant that she would even suggest that someone would have used their fists on him. I wish someone had!
“God help me, Harry Huntington, if you do not explain the reason for the state that you are in! We have guests, or did you forget?”
He frowned. “Guests? I have only arrived just this morning. I am not aware of any guests.”
“The Wickhams and Pevensys!” she hissed. “Are you so ape drunk that you do not remember? We sent them an invite a month ago.”
Harry clutched his head, moaning. Cornelia knew that her husband was likely suffering from a headache, a d
irect result of his foolishness. The families of his soon to be sons-in-law were in attendance, and would likely stay for days to come. As the Master of the house, he should have been present to receive their guests. Instead, he had been gaming. Shameless! Cornelia had no pity for her husband’s current state. He moaned again.
“Oh, oh, I have ruined us! Ruined us!”
Cornelia, forgetting her respectable image, lunged forward and grabbed her husband’s coat.
“What do you mean by this? What have you done? Speak!”
Outraged by her sudden impropriety, he stood up, putting her away from him. Cornelia was surprised that he could even do so in his inebriated state.
“You forget yourself, wife. I am the Master of this house – you will never do such a thing again.”
Cornelia resented her husband’s reminder of his status. It was she who ensured that the house remained in working condition! If it were up to her husband, they might have lived an impoverished existence. Perhaps I’ve gone too far this time. Harry appeared indignant of her actions. Better to assuage the situation than invite his rancour.
“My apologies, Husband. Please, tell me what has happened.”
Harry turned away and walked to the bookcase along the wall. Cornelia knew her husband enough to know that he was avoiding eye contact. What has the foolish man done?
“I lost a bet.”
“Is that all?” she said. “That is hardly something to get yourself in a flurry about. You will surely make back the money with the next shipment of wine from France.” She paused, thinking. “You mentioned ruined – surely you could not have bet money that you do not have?”
He shook his head. “This bet was entirely different. I had already lost all that I had on me– terrible luck, really. But I played again and ... and lost to the Earl of Scarborough.”
Dread filled her. “The Earl? You are indebted to the Earl?”
He nodded. “And that’s not all.”
A dizzy spell overcame her, and she had to grip the table to steady herself. What had her husband done? The Earl was not a man to be trifled with.
“Oh, Harry, what did you do?”
“I wagered the hand of Madelene, and I lost. He said that he would collect his wife in one week. That gives us three days from today. What do I do, Cornelia?”
A slow smile spread across Cornelia’s face. Many a night she had stayed awake past the witching hour, thinking about the burden that was her niece, Madelene. It seemed that her husband had just solved her problem.
“Why do you fret, Husband? You have done a wonderful thing! A girl can do no better than to make a match with an Earl. You are her uncle, you have an obligation to ensure that she marries a man of character– who better than Lord Scarborough?”
Although she would have preferred one of her own daughters to be matched to an Earl, a Baron was not too bad. Furthermore, there were whispered stories of the Earl’s brutality. She would think it perfect if he would give his wife a roughing every now and then. No, her husband had done very well, very well indeed.
“And what of her father? What do I say to him? Cardross is not a man who will allow his daughter to be mistreated, Cornelia. He entrusted Madelene into my care, as you very well know.”
Cornelia walked to the drinks trolley and poured a whisky. She handed it to her husband, who took it from her, his face a blubbering mass of confusion.
“Dear, I’m sure that the Earl will control his little wife remarkably well– you needn’t worry about your brother. I doubt that Madelene will be able to speak terribly about you within the hearing of the Earl.”
Harry took a gulp of his whisky.
“And her dowry?”
“I’m sure that the Earl will not mind an impoverished girl. He is a wealthy man who does not need the additional money from his new wife. Your daughters, on the other hand, are far needier. Think about them for a moment: would you take away their happiness just to please your brother? Surely not!”
Harry considered this for a moment. “Perhaps you are right.”
“My dear Husband, I know that I am,” she said.
The joy in Cornelia’s heart was too great to suppress the gleeful shout that escaped her lips. She was finally going to be rid of Madelene, and if that wasn’t a cause for celebration, then she didn’t know what was.
*****
Madelene slipped away from the door, her heart beating fast. She had been on her way to the garden when she had happened across the sorrowful sounds of her uncle’s crying. She had crept closer, curious as to what was ailing him. She gathered that he must have arrived early that morning, for he certainly was not present the night before. It did not take her long to discover the reason for his pitiful state. Madelene’s chest tightened, forcing her breath to enter in short bursts. Her hand touched her trembling lips, willing herself to calm down. Calm down, Madelene! What good will it do for you to faint? She fought to control her emotions, but when a small cry escaped her lips, her heart nearly stopped. Madelene forced herself to peer through the gap that had allowed her to witness her uncle’s treachery, fearing that her cry may have led to her discovery, but her aunt and uncle remained oblivious to her presence at the door. The trembling in her knees increased, making her movements less controlled. She managed to move away from the door, and leaned against the wall.
“My uncle has given me away to a man that I do not know?” she whispered. “What curse has befallen me?”
I need to make my escape, and it must be soon. I refuse to allow them to steal my freedom! Madelene’s mind started to run, thinking of every avenue of escape available to her. Lord Allandale was after her, and now she was betrothed to a likely senile Earl who thought nothing of collecting a young woman’s hand as payment for her uncle’s debt. Madelene shuddered at the thought of being married to a liver-spotted old man. Just moments ago, she had believed that she would have ample opportunity to secure her passage to America, but with the Earl arriving at such short notice, she needed to speed up her plans of escape. Getting to her brother in America would take a considerable amount of money, but it seemed that she would not be able to access the money that her father had left with her uncle for her daily living needs. However, Madelene had her own money and jewellery. She just hoped that it would get her to where she needed to go, for she was determined to be long gone by the time the Earl arrived.
“When the Earl makes his presence known at Grosvenor House, I will be gone.”
She tiptoed away, taking care not to draw the attention of her aunt and uncle.
Chapter 2
Maria folded the last chemise and placed it on the other pieces of clothing in the trunk.
“Maria, why do you insist on packing all of my dresses?” Madelene asked.
Maria straightened up and planted her hands on her rounded hips, narrowing her eyes.
“Would you have me leave them here for your vulture of an aunt to make use of? Non! C’est pas possible! You will need them in America. You cannot wear men’s clothing forever, ma cherie, this is not your father’s ship. There are rules to follow.”
Madelene knew that Maria was right, but they couldn’t possibly take everything with them. They needed to pack lightly to avoid her aunt catching onto their plans.
“Surely I do not need that many undergarments – leave the corsets behind, Leticia needs them more than I do!”
A Lady for the Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 3
