Escaping The Scurrilous Earl

by Lydia Pembroke

  “Nonsense,” Mrs Hardcastle assured. “This Lord Felmingham sounds like a perfect scoundrel to me, dear girl, and if there is one thing I loathe more than anything else in this world, it is scoundrels. I detest them with all my heart; the way they manipulate and destroy, caring for nothing but the fulfilment of their own desire.”

  She paused in thought, wondering if this Earl of Felmingham had ever intended to call on the debt he was supposedly owed. Had there even been a debt in the first place? She was not convinced. Lily was anything but worldly-wise, that much was clear, and Mrs Hardcastle had a feeling that Lord Felmingham had played upon her naivety, using it to his advantage. However, she held her tongue for the moment, not wishing to add insult to injury; the poor girl was suffering enough, without being told of the trap she may have walked into.

  “I do not know what I am going to do about the child,” Lily sobbed. “I love my family dearly, but they cannot know of this. I cannot risk returning to them, and I shall not rid myself of this innocent with herbs. It is not the child’s fault.” Mrs Hardcastle put an arm around the girl.

  “If your mind is made up on the matter, we shall have to invent a story for you.

  “My mind is made up.” Her voice was surprisingly firm, taking Mrs Hardcastle by surprise.

  “Then, we are going to make it so that none of this terrible business ever happened, so that you might walk with your head held high,” she replied calmly. “We shall say that you had a young beau — we shall call him Charles Althrop. Now, you met some six months ago. Though neither his family nor yours approved of the match you fell in love. I trust you are not further along than a few months?”

  Lily shook her head.

  “I do not believe so.”

  “Good, then we shall say that, blinded by love for one another, the pair of you eloped to Gretna Green, where you were married. Neither of you wished to engage in a relationship out of wedlock, for you were both God-fearing creatures,” she continued. “You became pregnant soon afterwards, but your husband was killed in a tragic accident. A collision with a carriage whilst strolling through Coventry, we might say. An awful event, which has left you bereft. As your parents did not agree with the marriage, you cannot return to them, and so you have come to me, seeking safety for your fatherless child.”

  “What if the people in this town do not believe me?”

  Mrs Hardcastle smiled. “I have lived here for a long time, dear girl. They will be curious at first but, given time, they will come to accept you as they accept all things,” she explained.

  They had accepted her, after all, though she did not say so aloud. Her secrets were her own, the town long-forgetting that she had once been a stranger in these parts.

  “But I have no marriage certificate, no ring… I have nothing to make the story appear true.” A frantic expression passed across the pale girl’s face.

  Even distraught, Mrs Hardcastle thought her a mightily pretty creature, with her delicate features and raven-black hair, which cascaded down to her waist when set free of her maid’s cap. Lily kept it hidden whenever she could, but Mrs Hardcastle had seen the tousled ringlets when Lily thought she wasn’t looking. Indeed, it made her realise why Lord Felmingham had singled Lily out — she was a remarkable girl, tempting enough to make a wretch manipulate her into disgrace.

  Guiding her from the bathroom into her own private rooms, Mrs. Hardcastle produced a gold signet ring from her bureau.

  “You may borrow this one,” she replied, placing the ring into Lily’s hand.

  It’s engraved with the letter ‘C’. It stands for Cordelia but will do just as well for ‘Charles’.

  Lily accepted it gratefully, sliding it onto her finger.

  “Thank you, Mrs Hardcastle. I shall never be able to repay this kindness.”

  “I should say you have repaid enough debts in your short life, dear girl. You owe me nothing, though I would ask that you adhere to this story we have concocted,” she insisted, her tone edged with firm steel. “Can you do that?”

  Lily nodded. “I fell in love with a man named Charles Althrop. My parents did not approve, so we eloped and were married in Gretna Green. I became pregnant shortly afterwards, though my husband died in a tragic carriage accident whilst walking in Coventry, where the two of us decided to settle. My parents did not accept the marriage and so I cannot return to them. That is why I have come here, to seek work and lodgings with you, where my child will be safe, away from my sad memories in other places.”

  “Very good,” Mrs Hardcastle commended. “Now, are you feeling better? Shall we continue with the day’s chores?”

  “A moment longer and I shall return to scouring the tin baths.”

  Mrs Hardcastle gave Lily’s a firm look. “Perhaps, you should step outside for some fresh air instead? I can ask one of the other girls to scour the tubs; they will undoubtedly curse you for it, but at least you will not expel the rest of your stomach into these basins. There are some linens that need ordering from Mr Charles Timmins — his fabric shop is difficult to miss, it’s just past the church.”

  Lily looked up with a grateful smile. It appeared that Mrs Hardcastle was giving her the opportunity to leave the house for a while and clear her head.

  “If you turn left out of the front door, and walk along the town square, you will find Mr Timmins’ shop just along the street. I will give you the order, written down, to deliver to him. How does that sound?”

  “I should like that very much. It is such a pleasant day and I believe that the walk will do me the world of good.”

  “Then it is settled.” Mrs Hardcastle paused in thought. “However, before you set out to complete your task, I should warn you of the gossip surrounding your arrival here. It has not gone unnoticed, though I have managed to evade the questioning of several nosey individuals. Now that you have a story to tell, things will be far easier, but you may still encounter something of an inquisition from the village chatterbox — Mrs Mary Merton. She is the seamstress here, and her shop is not far from Mr Timmins’ a bit further around the square. I warn you only as you may pass her on your way, and I would not see you struggle under her interrogations. She can pry information from even the most private of folk, extracting gossip without you even realising that she has taken it from you.”

  Lily looked startled. “Is there an alternative route?”

  “She will find you if she wishes to, no matter which route you take, and, anyway, this is a small town, there is not really any other way to go,” Mrs Hardcastle replied apologetically. “I am not telling you this in order to frighten you, dear girl. I am merely forewarning you so that you may be prepared, in the event that your paths cross. After all, your acceptance in this town depends on the success of your cover story. Make Mrs Merton believe it, and everyone else will believe it, too.”

  ~~~~~

  A short while later, Lily walked anxiously down the front steps of Hardcastle House, keeping her wits about her as she set off for Mr Timmins’ fabric shop. The day was a hazy one, a cool breeze whipping across the town square towards her, Spring giving way to Summer. Readjusting her bonnet, she hurried away, keeping her head down as she moved in the direction of the Bell and Whistle. At least she did not have to go that far.

  In the broad daylight, everything looked different. Even so, there was a familiarity in the cobbled streets, and the faces who glanced at her as she rushed past. Wherever she went, chatter followed, though she paid the hushed words no heed. They could talk about her all they liked, trying to work out who she was, and where she had come from, but now she had a cover story and she planned to stick to it.

  Halfway along the street, passing the church, Lily faltered. Mrs Hardcastle had told her there would be a sign swinging, showing her the way to Mr Timmins’ fabric and bonnet shop, but she could see no such sign. Perhaps, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere?

  “Are you lost, dearie?” a voice chirped from a shop over the way. A woman stood on the threshold, her arms folded a
cross an ample bosom. She was wearing an exquisite dress of embroidered coral muslin, much too grand for the daytime. To Lily’s horror, she saw ‘Mrs Merton’s Seamstress Services’ written across the lintel of the storefront.

  “No, I am simply pausing for breath,” she lied, though Mrs Merton had already crossed the street. She moved swiftly for a woman in so many layers of fabric.

  “You are newly arrived here, are you not?”

  Lily nodded. “I am staying with Mrs Hardcastle.”

  “And who might you be?”

  “Mrs Lily Althrop,” she said, without missing a beat.

  “And what brings you to our charming village? No husband?” Mrs Merton narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

  “Dead, quite recently,” Lily replied, her heart pounding. “I miss him dearly.”

  “No family?”

  “They did not approve of my husband, and so I am without family — marital or otherwise.”

  Mrs Merton sighed. “A shame, dear child. You look much too young to have endured such tragedy.”

  “I am several months shy of twenty.”

  “Are you indeed?” Mrs Merton gasped. “I should not have thought you a day over fifteen.”

  “Mrs Merton, can’t you see that you are frightening the poor young lady?” a firm, masculine voice interrupted Mrs Merton’s stream of interrogation. Secretly, Lily breathed a sigh of relief, as she turned to see who had spoken. A slender gentleman was walking towards them, with short, wavy dark hair atop his head, and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles set on a well-defined nose, hazel eyes peering out from behind.

  He was taller than Lily, of middling height, and immaculately dressed in a cobalt-blue waistcoat and navy tails. He smiled at Lily as he approached, his features strong and pleasant, his demeanour kind and open.

  “Dr Sharpton, I did not see you there,” Mrs Merton replied, abashed. “I was merely getting better acquainted with our newcomer. She is pretty, is she not?”

  She evidently intended to embarrass Dr Sharpton, but Lily was pleased to see that he did not take the bait. Instead, he laughed — a warm, welcoming sound.

  “I must insist you leave her be, Mrs Merton. She is clearly undertaking some important task for Mrs Hardcastle — you must not delay her any further. You know how Mrs Hardcastle loathes delays.”

  “Of course,” Mrs Merton murmured. “Now, you must promise that you will come into my shop when you have the opportunity. If there is anything you require, be it a new gown or a repair, I am the woman you must come to, yes?”

  “I shall, Mrs Merton.”

  Reluctantly, the seamstress crossed back to the other side of the road and disappeared inside her shop, though Lily got the sense that she was being watched through the window.

  “Thank you, Dr Sharpton,” Lily whispered, turning to her saviour.

  “It is entirely my pleasure… Mrs?”

  “Lily Althrop.”

  He nodded. “Well then, Mrs Althrop, where may I take you on this fine afternoon?”

  “The fabric shop,” she said shyly.

  “Ah, you are nearly there, let me show you.”

  He offered his arm, so he might escort her to Mr Timmins’. Glancing discreetly at her knight in shining armour, she felt the first twinge of a real smile, tugging at the edge of her lips.

  Chapter Four

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and soon enough the town of Upper Nettlefold forgot that there had ever been a time when Lily Althrop had not been part of their township. Mrs Hardcastle was particularly glad of her, for she worked hard and had proven herself to be an excellent asset to her administrative needs. Moreover, she was pleasant to be around — a welcome face around the boarding house, always humming a tune as she set about her daily duties.

  There was one other person who was particularly glad of Lily’s presence in Upper Nettlefold. Dr Cedric Sharpton had been a near-permanent fixture at Hardcastle House since her arrival, finding various reasons to make himself useful. Ordinarily, it was to see to a trifling cold or some such ailment, of one of the boarding house’s tenants or staff, though Mrs Hardcastle had insisted he visit twice weekly to see to Lily’s advancing pregnancy. Whether she actually needed so many visits or not remained to be seen, though nobody dared to defy Mrs Hardcastle’s wishes.

  Mrs Hardcastle had grown fond of Lily and knew that the only way she might make a decent way in this world was to find a good match. Lily was not privy to the plans of the older woman, though Mrs Hardcastle could see that there was a shared affection between the pregnant runaway and the dear, kind doctor. It was for this reason that she continued to insist that Dr Sharpton came to the house, for she planned to mastermind their union, one way or the other.

  The truth was, Cedric was already utterly smitten with Lily Althrop. He had been since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her from across the town square. He remembered thinking of her as being like a little bird, though he had been pleased to discover that she did not plan to fly from Upper Nettlefold anytime soon. And so, each week, on a Tuesday and a Friday, he walked across town to the boarding house that backed onto the Nettlerush river and checked up on Lily. He had no qualms in obliging Mrs Hardcastle’s steady invitations, though he knew so many visits were unnecessary. It was more of an excuse to speak with Lily than an actual medical examination. But Lily did not seem to mind; a fact that thrilled him secretly. He did not know of her feelings, nor did he dare to assume them, but sometimes she offered him glimpses of hope that made his heart beat a touch faster.

  “And how are you feeling today Mrs Althrop?” Cedric asked, finding Lily in the drawing room of Hardcastle House.

  He set his medical bag down on the nearside table, removing his instruments though he did not plan to use them. He rarely did upon their meetings, whiling away an hour or so in discussion. Lily smiled.

  “I fear that my ankles have swollen to twice their usual size, and I am certain I shall never get a good night’s sleep again, but I am in good spirits, Dr Sharpton.”

  Truly, she had made a remarkable change since arriving in Upper Nettlefold. Where before she had been a skittish creature, her dark eyes always flitting this way and that, as though a predator were approaching, now she was cheerful, always ready with a smile or a chuckle. Beneath the mask of constant worry, there had been an affable young woman with a joy for life. It had just taken some time for Cedric to discover it. Indeed, he was not certain where the worry had stemmed from, for she was never forthcoming about her past, but he supposed it came from the death of her husband… only recently deceased, as far as he knew, and her sombre clothing indicated.

  “That is excellent to hear, Mrs Althrop,” he replied, moving towards her chair. “And is the child moving at frequent intervals?”

  Lily nodded. “The quickening, they call it, do they not?”

  “I have heard it described in that manner,” Cedric conceded. “Would you mind if I checked?”

  “Not at all.”

  He knelt close to her and reached out his hands, pressing into the side of her swollen abdomen, moving his palms around so he could feel for the child. As if sensing him, the baby kicked, and a smile curved at his lips. There was nothing so remarkable as the gift of life, he thought. As he looked up, his eyes glistening, he found that Lily was smiling down at him, too. He dared to hold her gaze, a moment lingering between them. He knew it was improper to stare deeply into her eyes and have his hands upon her stomach, but he could not tear his gaze away. Nor, did it seem, could she. He cleared his throat, rising to his feet.

  “Everything seems to be just fine, Mrs Althrop. The baby appears to be strong—it has a fighting spirit, much like its mother, I should wager.”

  “I should like my child to be strong.” A hint of sadness caught in her throat.

  “Daily exercise can be very beneficial for expectant mothers,” he said, his brow furrowing at the sound of her unhappiness. “If I might be so bold, I was wondering if I might suggest… I was wonder
ing if you would consider coming for a walk in the fields and gardens nearby, with me… perhaps one morning this week, if you are not too entrenched in your work? I know of several suitable walks that have such charming scenery — good for the mind and body.” His cheeks flushed ever-so slightly, a shy smile creeping onto his lips. It was a question he had been wanting to ask her for weeks, though he had never mustered the courage. Now, seeing the glint of melancholy in her eyes, he wished to do everything in his power to replace it with happiness.

  ~~~~~

  Lily gazed at the kind-featured doctor, wishing she could answer him directly. He stood there, waiting for an answer, his face a picture of patience. And yet, her throat felt tight, her lungs gripped in a vice, her heart pounding.

  Although she struggled to admit it to herself, for fear of what it might mean, she was very drawn to Cedric, too. Each week, she found herself looking forward to his visits, settling herself in the armchair long before he was due to arrive. She had even caught herself day-dreaming about him, on more than one occasion, imagining him in medieval armour, charging up to her attic tower and rescuing her. She had pictured him duelling Lord Felmingham, also, where Cedric had always emerged the victor. Upon his triumph, he had asked for her hand in marriage — there had never been a happier dream, though she knew the reality could never reflect it. Truly, it was the highlight of her week, to sit in the drawing room and talk with Cedric. In their previous encounters, they had spoken of everything and anything, discussing literature, music, politics, horticulture, poetry, medicine… everything.

  Now, here he was, asking her to come on an excursion with him… and she could not answer. Her heart and mind were at war, tearing her in two. If she pursued a romance with Cedric, she understood there was a chance that he might find out about her true situation. After all, she could not continue to lie to him if a courtship were to proceed, could she? If she told him the truth, or he discovered it for himself, she knew he could never love her… he would likely never be able to look her in the face again. For, when it boiled down to the facts, Lily was convinced of her crime - that what she had done amounted to no more than prostitution. She had traded her body to the Earl, to prevent him from calling in the debt to her family. She had sold herself to save those she loved, but it did not change the act, nor the semantics.