The Spinster's Guild : A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “I see,” Frederick murmured, turning his head to see Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice staring at the older man with similar expressions of surprise. “And might I ask if you are expecting me?”

  The old man coughed heavily for a moment, tugging out a white handkerchief and turning away as he did so. Frederick held back his frustration, aware he was not receiving the answer he required, but forced himself to remain completely silent.

  “I forget your name, sir,” the man answered, eventually, stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket with evident ease. “Might you be willing to share it with me again?”

  Frederick held back his sigh of irritation. “The Earl of Greaves,” he answered, firmly. “I have a brother, the honorable Mr. Adlington.”

  The man did not look at all as though he knew what Frederick was talking of. “I do not think that I have any recollection of expecting you, Lord Greaves,” he said, now beginning to sound rather tired. “However, I…..oh!”

  Frederick jerked to attention, looking hard at the older man’s face and seeing how it shone with a sudden remembrance. “Yes?” he demanded, his hand pressed hard against the door for fear that it would be shut in his face. “What is it you recall, sir?”

  The old man shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “I fear that soon, Lord Stratton will have no use for me,” he said, a little sadly. “I am forgetful as well as blind.” Sighing, he gestured for Frederick to step into the house. “I was instructed to give you a note from a friend of Lord Stratton’s,” he said, as Frederick took a few steps into the dark, gloomy house. “If you will wait a moment.”

  Frederick had nothing else to do but to obey, looking around the dark house and feeling a chill running down his spine. There were no lights anywhere and every window seemed to be covered to prevent any daylight from entering. He supposed that the servant did not need such things, given that he was blind, but surely Lord Stratton himself would require some sort of light?

  “Have you ever heard of Lord Stratton?” he murmured to Lord Havisham, who came into the house to stand beside him. “I confess I have not but my circle of acquaintances is not particularly vast.”

  Lord Havisham shook his head. “I have not heard of him either,” he answered, frowning. “Although Lady Smithton may.” He shrugged, glancing about the house. “He may be an older gentleman or someone who does not often step into society.”

  Considering this, Frederick began to walk quietly towards one of the doors that led to another room. There was something about this house that he did not like, something that sent a shiver through him as he looked all about it. Whatever it was, something in his spirit told him that all was not as it perhaps appeared.

  “Be careful,” Lord Havisham warned, as Frederick reached for the door handle. “You do not know when the fellow will return.”

  “He is blind,” Frederick reminded him. “And his master is not at home.”

  Lord Havisham’s frown remained. “All the same,” he said, slowly. “Be on your guard.”

  Frederick nodded, his whole body tight with tension, but he turned the handle regardless and pushed the door open wide.

  The room was almost as black as night. The curtains were drawn with only a few chinks of light escaping from them; their heavy drapes caressing the floor. Taking a few steps inside, Frederick waited for his eyes to adjust a little more, wincing as the floor creaked beneath his feet.

  A frown began to form as he looked around the room. Everything was covered. Dust sheets were everywhere. This was not a room that was often in use, it appeared, for everything was hidden away, protected from the dust and the debris. A little surprised by what he had found, Frederick turned around and hurried back to the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “Lord Greaves?”

  “Lady Beatrice, what are you doing here?” he hissed, moving quickly towards her and realizing that there was no sign of Lord Havisham. “Where is – ”

  “Lord Havisham went to speak to Lady Smithton and asked me to take his place for a moment or two as he did so,” Lady Beatrice interrupted, a firm look in her eye. “What is it you have found?”

  Frederick hesitated, looking behind him in case the old man had suddenly reappeared on soundless feet.

  “The room there is unused,” he said, softly, seeing Lady Beatrice’s eyes flare with surprise. “This is the house of one Lord Stratton, although I have never heard of him, and yet somehow there is a note for me here – from a supposed friend of the master of the house.”

  Lady Beatrice turned to look around the house as though it might furnish her with some new understanding. “Did the fellow say that Lord Stratton was in London at present?” she asked, making Frederick’s stomach flip over itself. “Or is he merely taking care of the house whilst the master is away?”

  “I – I did not ask him specifically,” Frederick answered, slowly, seeing the small smile on Lady Beatrice’s face. “But you are quite right. I should do so at once.” He made to say more, only for Lady Beatrice to suddenly scurry away in the opposite direction from the room he had only just left. His feet seemed stuck to the floor, his mouth opening and closing in fright as he watched her open one door and then another, sticking her head in and then retreating just as quickly.

  It was only when the sound of footsteps began to make their way towards him that Frederick finally managed to get a hold of himself.

  “Lady Beatrice!” he hissed, waving at her frantically as she closed another door. “Do hurry.”

  Lady Beatrice paused, turned her head to listen, and then, with a jerk of awareness, began to half run, half walk back towards him on tiptoe. She did not make a great deal of noise but the creaks and groans of the floor made Frederick close his eyes in both irritation and worry. He did not want the blind old man to know that Lady Beatrice had been sneaking about the house.

  “Lord Greaves?”

  Lady Beatrice scampered out of the house just as the old man reached Frederick’s side.

  “Yes,” Frederick answered, a little surprised that the man had been able to stop only a foot or so away instead of colliding with Frederick. “The note, you say?”

  The man nodded, turning his head back towards Frederick and tilting it just a little to his left. “It is from an acquaintance of Lord Stratton,” he said again, making Frederick frown heavily. “I did say I would pass it on to you should you call.”

  “And the name of this gentleman was….?” Lord Havisham asked, who had suddenly reappeared in the doorway.

  The old man shook his head. “I am afraid I do not know,” he answered, shaking his head. “I am blind so I could not see the fellow and the master did not tell me his name.”

  Irritated and also eager to open the note to see what was held within, Frederick looked down at it, seeing the plain parchment which was just the same as the first note. “And where is your master at present?”

  The old man shook his head again, sighing in an almost sorrowful fashion. “He has gone from London and will not return until the little Season,” he answered. “There are only a few staff remaining here and we will do our best to keep the townhouse ready and prepared for the master.”

  Closing his eyes in frustration, he reminded himself that he had no complaint against the older man himself. After all, he was doing his master’s bidding. “I thank you,” he muttered, turning away so as to take his leave. “We shall depart now.”

  “I would be willing to inform you should the master return to town early,” the old man said, as Frederick stepped outside again. “If that is something you require, Lord Greaves?”

  “Thank you,” Frederick answered dully, thinking that he was becoming all the more entangled in what was a very difficult situation. He said nothing more, leaving Lord Havisham to take his leave also before returning to the carriage where Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice were waiting. They had both gone to sit inside the carriage instead of waiting outside of it, clearly ready to take their leave.

  “Did you
receive another note?” Lady Beatrice asked, the moment Frederick climbed inside. “Does the man know who wrote it?”

  Frederick shook his head, turning the note over and breaking the wax seal. “No, he does not,” he said, as Lord Havisham climbed in after him and shut the carriage door behind him. “And he is blind so he cannot tell me the description of the gentleman either.” The silence in the carriage grew as he unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the words quickly.

  He looked up, his stomach dropping to his toes. Both Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice looked back at him, their eyes fixed on his and both with concern written in their expressions.

  “My brother has been taken,” Frederick said, softly. “He has lost a lot of money in gambling and cannot pay his debts.”

  Lady Beatrice pressed her hands together in front of her mouth, her face paling just a little.

  “Adlington assured me that he was in no such difficulties and that he had turned his back on such things, and I confess l believed him.” Pain sliced through his heart. “And now I must repay his debts,” he continued, quietly. “And I must pay even more to secure his safety.”

  “Good gracious,” Lady Smithton breathed, one hand pressed lightly against her heart. “And how are you to go about it?”

  Frederick shook his head, holding up the note and feeling just as lost and as confused as before. “It simply states that I will be informed of what I am to do in due course.” His head fell forward, his heart sinking in despair. “They are doing all they can to protect themselves, are they not?” he muttered, wondering just which rogues had his brother and, at the same time, feeling a good deal of anger towards Adlington. “They are forcing me to go here and there, always using a different way to give me the information I need. And I cannot bear to think of the situation that my brother is in at present, even if it is his own doing.”

  There came again a short silence, with each occupant considering things in their own mind. Frederick felt a good deal of confusion, frustration, and pain. His brother, he had hoped, had turned around from his rakish, foolish ways, but now it seemed Frederick had been fooled. Even his talk of finding a suitable young lady to marry must have been nothing more than a pretense.

  “We will help you in this, Lord Greaves.” Frederick lifted his head to see Lady Beatrice smiling at him gently, her eyes warm and her expression gentle. “You are not alone in this. Whatever occurs next, you are not to face it on your own.”

  The light in her eyes seemed to be the only glimmer in his otherwise dark world and Frederick held onto what he saw there, clinging to it as though it was his only lifeline. Lady Beatrice said nothing more but simply held his gaze, her warmth wrapping about him and holding him fast. Only yesterday he had found her most displeasing, frustrated that she was forcing herself into his situation whereas now, he found himself grateful for her with such a fervor that it flooded him completely.

  “I thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion, realizing just how close he had become to Lady Beatrice in such a short period of time. “To you all, I give you my earnest thanks. Your willingness and your determination to come alongside me at this time speaks to my heart.” He could not take his eyes from hers, seeing the gentleness there and finding it a balm to his many wounds. “I am truly grateful.”

  Chapter Eight

  Beatrice let out a long breath as she looked all about her, her stomach roiling furiously.

  “You do not think he will remain at home, do you?” she asked, as Lady Smithton came near to her. “I fear that Lord Greaves might be so lost in his sorrows that he will remain at home.”

  Lady Smithton shook her head. “I am sure he will attend,” she said, quietly. “It has only been two days since we last saw him and he has written to you since then, has he not?”

  Beatrice nodded, but did not look at Lady Smithton, instead allowing her gaze to rove around Lord Marston’s large drawing room. They had all been invited to dine – although her father had made his excuses due to another engagement. A card party, of course, but Beatrice had kept her own counsel and had wisely said nothing to her father about his choice of entertainment. Her mind had been much too full of Lord Greaves, for she had spent almost every waking moment worrying about what he must be feeling and what he might do next. She had written to him the very same afternoon as they had left him at his townhouse, asking him to let her know the very moment any more information was given to him.

  There had been nothing as yet, it seemed, for whilst Lord Greaves had replied to her note promising to do so, she had not heard from him since then.

  “You have become very close to Lord Greaves in a matter of days,” Lady Smithton murmured, coming to stand in front of Beatrice so that she could not avoid her gaze any longer. “You seem to be quite caught up with him.”

  “I am,” Beatrice admitted, having no sort of restraint within herself to prevent her from speaking the truth to Lady Smithton. “When he first spoke to me of the note, I confess that I had a good deal of curiosity as to where it might lead, but since then, I have been unable to remove from my mind the look on his face as we travelled back from Lord Stratton’s home.”

  Lady Smithton’s nodded, clearly understanding precisely what Beatrice meant. “He looked quite distraught.”

  “To know that his brother had been speaking untruths must have cut Lord Greaves to the quick,” Beatrice continued, a little surprised herself at just how much compassion she felt for a gentleman she did not know particularly well as yet. “And then to discover that he is in such difficulties as requires his specific aid must only add to such sorrows.”

  “Again, you are quite correct,” Lady Smithton agreed. “And your concern for him shows, Lady Beatrice. Although there is very little that we can do until he seeks out our help.”

  “And you are sure that he is invited to dinner this evening?” Beatrice asked, a little anxiously. “Lord Marston knew to invite him?”

  Lady Smithton smiled gently, no hint of irritation in her voice. “I am quite certain,” she said, firmly. “Lord Marston is a dear friend of mine and had no difficulty in inviting Lord Greaves also. Although he did inform me that Lord Greaves had written to accept the invitation, so I do not think he will be absent from it.”

  Beatrice said nothing, pressing one hand lightly against her stomach to remove the butterflies from within her. She wanted to see Lord Greaves again, fearing that he was struggling alone when the urge to assist him in any way she could continued to grow within her. It was very strange indeed to be so consumed by thoughts and concerns for a gentleman she did not know particularly well as yet, but the vulnerability he had displayed on the day they had returned from Lord Stratton’s home had sent such a compassion into her heart that she could not forget him.

  “What did you see within Lord Stratton’s house?” Lady Smithton asked, catching Beatrice’s attention. “I know you looked into various rooms but was there anything of note?”

  “Oh.” Beatrice had quite forgotten that she had not yet spoken to Lady Smithton about what had occurred that afternoon. “I looked into various rooms but there was very little to see. Each room was swathed in darkness and everything was under covers.”

  Lady Smithton twisted her lips, a frown darkening her brow. “Then what the servant said was true. Lord Stratton is gone from London.”

  “But who was this friend who asked Lord Stratton’s servant to deliver a note to Lord Greaves?” Beatrice asked, as a slight ache began to form behind her eyes. “It has to be the same gentleman who wrote the note and placed it in the bookshop.”

  “Or one of the same group of gentlemen who all wish to recover their debts from Adlington,” Lady Smithton suggested. “They are clearly trying to keep their identity secret from Lord Greaves as well as securing Adlington.”

  Again, Beatrice let out a long, slow breath, feeling as though they were stuck in a great quagmire with no safe passage in sight. “I cannot imagine what Lord Greaves must be thinking at this moment,” she sa
id, quietly. “I am glad that we are able to assist him, in even a small way.”

  Lady Smithton smiled, her eyes lighting up. “I think, Lady Beatrice, that you may find yourself deeply in love with Lord Greaves if you are not careful,” she said, sending a sudden flush up Beatrice’s cheeks. “Not that I consider him to be a poor choice by any means, and Lord Havisham considers him to be quite appropriate also.”

  Beatrice swallowed her embarrassment, knowing to speak frankly. “You and Lord Havisham have spoken of Lord Greaves?”

  “Indeed we have,” Lady Smithton answered, although a slight touch of color warmed her own face. “You may not be aware, Lady Beatrice, but Lord Havisham and I have long been acquainted but it is only recently that we have begun to recover that acquaintance.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked across the room towards where Lord Havisham was speaking to another gentleman. “He has quite proven himself, Lady Beatrice. Inasmuch as he has sought to discover the true character of the gentlemen who have been of interest to the Spinsters Guild, I have sought to discover his true nature.”

  Beatrice smiled, a little distracted from her thoughts on Lord Greaves. “And have you done so?”

  “I believe I have,” Lady Smithton answered, quietly, still looking at Lord Havisham. “Which is why I have finally accepted his request to court me, Lady Beatrice.” Finally, she looked back towards Beatrice, her happiness more than evident. “But nothing will move further than courtship until I see you happily settled. The Guild will come to an end and each of us will have our own, contented futures to enjoy.” Her smile was all the more encouraging as Beatrice nodded, thinking again of Lord Greaves. “And if you are considering Lord Greaves, Lady Beatrice, then I have nothing but agreement for you. Only make certain that you do not lose your heart before you are certain that he cares for you also.”