The Smithfield Market Romances: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  That was not a conversation he was looking forward to having.

  His mother, widowed and sad, would have to face the difficult reality that she would now be expected to vacate her own home in order to reside in the smaller estate Gideon had called his own for so many years. It was not something Gideon would push upon her, of course, particularly not when she was still grieving, but he had very little intention of bringing Georgina to live with him as his wife, only for his mother to reside there also. As for his sister, not yet out, he hoped that she would soon find herself a suitable husband or that she would be willing to consider relocating also. Again, it was not something Gideon expected to demand of her but it would be put to her gently, reminding her that a good many things were now to change. He was to be wed in a few months’ time, once the banns were called, and would have to ensure that his new home was ready and waiting for them both.

  It would be strange, of course, to now seat himself in his father’s study, where he had so many fond memories of spending time with the good gentleman. His father had never been outwardly expressive with his emotions but Gideon had always known that his father loved him very deeply. He had done all he could to prepare Gideon to take on the title when the time came, and Gideon’s deepest regret was not being by his father’s side when he had taken his last few breaths.

  “I do hope the fever has not reached here,” Georgina said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “After all, part of the reason we are coming here is to remove ourselves from that dreadful city.”

  Gideon gave her a tight smile. “I do hope not, “he replied, realizing that, yet again, Georgina was displaying her inability to consider anyone but herself. “There has been a good deal of suffering already and one can only hope that it will come to an end very soon.”

  Georgina sniffed delicately. “I must keep myself as far away from those who are ill, of course. Father would be in such a terrible state of distress if he were to hear news that I was ill.”

  Georgina’s father was to return from London to his country seat, whilst Francis escorted Georgina and her lady’s maid to his own estate for a prolonged stay. “I am quite sure you can write to reassure him almost the moment you are received,” Gideon replied, with a little harshness to his tone. “All will be well, Georgina. I am quite sure of it.”

  However, upon arriving at the Dunstable estate, Gideon had the distinct impression that all was not well at all. The butler appeared very late indeed, for the carriage had been sitting for a good few minutes before anyone came to assist them. There were only two footmen, when Gideon was quite sure they had at least six.

  “Jones,” he said firmly, walking towards the butler as Georgina was assisted down from the carriage by one of the footmen. “Where is everybody? What the devil’s going on?”

  Jones the butler, looked rather harried. “Your mother is asking for you, my lord,” he said, a little stiffly. “Please do hurry. She will tell you all, I am sure. Shall I escort you both to the drawing room?”

  Rather perturbed by all of this, Gideon took Georgina’s hand, placed it on his arm and walked with her up the steps into the house.

  His breath caught at the state of the place. The windows were grubby, the marble floor was clearly stained and it looked as though the place had not been cleaned in a good many days. Making to say something, he saw the butler’s pained expression and chose to close his mouth, recalling that the butler had promised that his mother could explain it all.

  “Good gracious, Dunstable!” Georgina cried, as they walked towards the drawing room. “I have visited here on more than one occasion and I have never seen it look in such a dire state as it is today. Whatever has happened?”

  Gideon cleared his throat. “I cannot say,” he said, firmly. “Mama is waiting for us both, however, and I am quite sure –”

  He was cut off by the sound of his mother’s voice reaching him, the drawing room door being flung open.

  “Dunstable? Is that you?”

  The thin figure of his mother stepped out into the hallway and, dropping Georgina’s hand, Gideon took his mother’s hands in both of his, greeting her warmly.

  “Mama,” he murmured, looking at her with concern as he took in the paleness of her cheeks and the sadness in her eyes. “Something has happened, has it not? Why is the estate so unkempt?”

  Lady Dunstable shook her head silently and gestured towards the drawing room. Growing more and more afraid by the minute, Gideon walked with her inside with Georgina at his heels.

  “A tea tray, my lord?” the butler asked, now looking a little less harassed. “Or the brandy tray?”

  Georgina shot him a hard glance but Gideon disregarded her. “One of both, if you please,” he said, firmly. Georgina had always made her dislike of liquor more than apparent to him but he had always ignored it. On a day like this, he felt as though he would require more than one stiff drink.

  “Very good, my lord. And may I say it is good to have you back with us.”

  The butler withdrew but not before Gideon had spotted the flash of relief that crossed his face. All the more perturbed, he turned his attention back to his mother, who was still holding his hand tightly.

  “Mama,” he said kindly, leading her towards a chair by the fire and seating her down. “What is it? What has occurred?”

  His mother choked back a sob. “Oh, Dunstable! You have only been gone but ten days and everything has gone terribly wrong. I am afraid, so afraid.”

  Georgina cleared her throat. “Afraid, Lady Dunstable?” she asked, a slight note of fear in her voice. “But why? What is there to be afraid of?”

  Gideon did not take his eyes from his mother. “Mama, what has gone wrong?”

  She pulled out a small lace handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “One of the servants, a maid, became sick.”

  A gasp from Georgina caught Gideon’s ears, just as his stomach dropped to his toes.

  “Your sister insisted that we send many of the staff away, continuing their pay until it was safe to return,” Lady Dunstable continued. “You know Francine has always had the kindest of hearts.” A small, tremulous smile caught her lips. “I did not know what to do but it appears that she was correct to do so. The maid, I am afraid to say, was not long for this world.” A sob escaped her. “She died of the fever, Dunstable.”

  Gideon swallowed hard, fear racing through him. “The fever?” he asked, hoarsely. “Scarlet fever?”

  Lady Dunstable looked up at him. “That is what the doctor said when I sent for him. There are some loyal staff who would not go when we asked – Jones, the butler, a footman and a maid or two. We could not have done without them but this is why you see your estate as it is now.” Her eyes were fixed on his, an almost begging expression on her face. “Did I do right in allowing your sister to follow this course of action?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Did I, Dunstable?”

  He caught her hands again and pressed them tightly. “Indeed, mama. The fever is passed quickly and I would not want any of my staff to become ill.” He looked into her eyes, seeing signs of tiredness and strain but none of sickness. “You are quite well, then?”

  His mother nodded. “I am.”

  “And Francine?” Gideon said, wondering where his sister had gone to. “Where is she?”

  His mother shook her head sadly. “She is gone to give food and medicine to the tenants, Dunstable. I could not stop her. One of the tenant families has a child that is unwell. Your sister would not be prevented from going to her aid.” A slight shrug lifted his mother’s shoulders. “I wanted to protect her but she insisted on departing to go to them and I knew, in my heart, that you would have done the same had you been here. You are both strong-willed and kind of heart.”

  Georgina shot to her feet, breaking the tender moment. “I cannot linger here.”

  Gideon looked at her, not in the least bit surprised. “Georgina, it is not as bad as you think. The servants are –”

  “T
he servants are gone!” Georgina exclaimed. “I am not about to start getting onto my hands and knees to clean floors, if that is what you are thinking Gideon!”

  “No, indeed not,” he said, soothingly. “But -”

  “And how will we eat?” Georgina continued, gesturing wildly. “I cannot exactly go out and pluck a chicken or milk a cow! What is it you are intending to do, Gideon?”

  Lady Dunstable rose to her feet. “My dear Georgina,” she said, in a soft yet rather firm voice. “We have managed quite well thus far. Where is it you intend to return to, when this fever, this disease, seems to be everywhere?”

  This unsettled Georgina for a moment, for she clasped her hands in front of her and did not quite know how to answer. A moment or two passed before his fiancée shrugged and made her way to the door. “I shall return to London to ensure I can travel back home with father. He had no immediate plans to leave the town and so I am quite sure I can return in time to travel back with him.” She shot Gideon a fierce look. “Really, Dunstable, you cannot expect me to remain here under these circumstances!”

  Gideon gritted his teeth. “No, indeed not, Georgina,” he muttered, slowly getting to his feet so as to accompany her to the door. “I would never once have suggested that you think of others instead of simply yourself. I would never have imagined you to show any kind of care or consideration for the difficult circumstances of another.”

  Georgina gasped, her eyes rounding.

  “Dunstable, really!” she exclaimed, flouncing down the hallway as he unwillingly followed her. “You are being quite ridiculous, Dunstable. I do not wish to remain here and assist in what is an already laughable situation. You cannot expect me to linger within your estate when I do not so much as have a maid to tend to me!”

  Gideon did not point out that she had her own lady’s maid with her, knowing that it was utterly useless to argue with her. Georgina always did what she thought best and he should not expect her to show any sort of consideration or care for others. After all, that was not who he knew her to be.

  “You will have to give my men some time to prepare the carriage again,” he said, pulling open the door and stepping outside onto the steps. “And may I suggest you recall your lady’s maid and your things, which I am sure have already been taken up to your bedchamber. I will go and see the carriage is readied for you within the hour.”

  Georgina gaped at him. “But, Dunstable,” she exclaimed, her cheeks paling. “I did not think you would be lingering here also. Are you not returning to London with me?”

  The very idea made his stomach turn over. “No, Georgina, I am not,” he replied, tersely. “I have a family here that requires my aid.”

  “But you have a sick servant here, Dunstable,” Georgina continued, tears pooling in her eyes. “It is not safe.”

  He grimaced. “Nor is London. No, Georgina, I cannot and will not return with you. Now if you will excuse me, there is a great deal I must see to.”

  Turning away from her at once, he strode down the steps and across the graveled path towards the stables. Having given quick instructions to the men within – who nodded and said they would have to find fresh horses but that the carriage would be ready within the hour – he continued to make his way through his estate gardens until he reached the very outer edge.

  The path was easy enough to find and Gideon walked with confidence, knowing exactly where he was going. Dodging under a few tree branches, he finally found his way and walked along the muddy path that led to the church and the graveyard.

  Finally, where he had long wanted to be, he stopped just outside the graveyard gate for a moment, feeling his heart fill with heaviness. He missed his father.

  The grave was not hard to find, given that it had one of the most prominent places in the churchyard. Gideon felt his heart break into a thousand pieces as he drew near it, wishing that he had made it home in time to see and speak to his father one last time.

  “Father,” he whispered, as though somehow, in some way, his dear father could hear him. “Whatever am I to do?”

  The truth was, despite doing his utmost to put a brave front forward, reassuring his mother that all would work out and that they would be able to pull together in order to ensure things continued at the estate as they had been, Gideon felt as though he were walking on shaky ground. He was entirely unsure as to whether or not they would, in fact, be able to continue on without servants and the like. For heaven’s sake, he did not know how to cook a meal or, as Georgina had stated so clearly, find a way to bring in milk and the like! He bowed his head, silently thankful for the few servants who had remained at the Dunstable estate. Yet, within his thanks, there also came a slow lingering fear that the illness might pervade his home further. With one ill servant already abed in his house, there was no promise that the rest of them would evade the fever. What would he do if the few servants he had left then succumbed to it? What if his mother, his sister or even himself became ill? What would happen then?

  “Help me,” he groaned aloud, one hand brushing over his eyes in an attempt to keep himself grounded despite the tears pricking at his eyes. He felt entirely alone, lost and afraid whilst knowing he would have to present a sure and steady front to his mother, his sister, and his staff. He was the new Baron Dunstable, was he not? And that meant doing all he could to help the estate flourish, even in difficult times.

  Drawing himself up, Gideon let out a long, steadying breath, his eyes on the headstone before him. “I do miss you, father,” he admitted aloud, before turning on his heel and leaving the graveyard, knowing that there was work to be done.

  3

  Josephine hugged her thin shawl about her shoulders and began to hurry along the streets, wondering where the best place was to go to find a bed for the night. She knew there was a tavern in Smithfield Market and that the lady there was kind-hearted, and she wondered if there might be any opportunity there for her to get a good night’s rest. As she quickened her steps, her gaze snagged on the rather ominous looking church that loomed before her.

  Stopping, Josephine felt her heart quail, wondering if she ought to go in and pray for a time. She could pray for the disease that seemed to be taking so many lives and, at the same time, thank God for the kind gentleman who had brought her so much goodness.

  “Careful there!”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Josephine saw a young man staggering slightly as he knocked into another man. He had one hand to his throat as if it pained him and his eyes were bright with fever.

  Her heart leaped into her throat. This man was ill.

  Her wrapped coins still held tightly in her hand, Josephine watched the young man try desperately to move towards the church, his feet stumbling along the pavement. He was not about to make it, she realized, not without help.

  Her mind screamed at her to take her money and go on her way, but her heart could not simply see his suffering and turn away. She had already had the fever and had recovered, but there were so many who would not. She was not afraid of the disease for her own sake but hated the way it claimed so many lives. Could she really allow it to claim another, when she was standing there, able to help?

  Shoving her wrapped coins deep into her pocket and praying that she would not lose them, Josephine hurried towards the young man.

  “You are not well,” she stated, holding onto his hand and putting one hand onto his forehead, feeling him hot. “Are you seeking refuge in the church?”

  The man looked at her for a moment with eyes that were heavy with illness. “Help,” he said, his voice rasping. “Here. Help is here.”

  Leaning on her heavily, Josephine had no other choice but to lead the man into the church, a little unsure as to what she would find there. Churches were, on the whole, places where help and aid could be found but with such a terrible disease ravaging the whole town, she was not sure there would be anyone within willing to do what they could.

  “Hello?” she called, as she helped the young man inside. “Is the
re anyone here?”

  A harassed-looking elderly man stepped forward, his eyes on the young man Josephine led in.

  “The fever?” he asked, harshly. “Is it the fever?”

  Josephine nodded. “It is.”

  “Come with me.”

  Somehow, they both managed to get the young man down a long flight of wooden steps that led into a dimly lit, rather murky basement. Josephine caught her breath, frozen at the sight that met her eyes and the sounds that crowded in her mind. There was nothing but people everywhere. People lying on makeshift beds, clearly in the grip of the fever. People struggling to breathe, children crying fitfully whilst their anxious mothers watched over them.

  “What is this place?” she asked, hoarsely, as the elderly gentleman began to lead her and the young man into the corner of the room.