Regency Bride Series: Regency Romance Box Set

by Locke, Laura

  I wanted to know if anyone had seen Lord Epworth.

  As she walked briskly toward her bedchamber she pondered those questions.

  “Matilda?”

  She jumped, hearing her mother's voice from the small parlor

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “You have a visitor,” her mother said. Her voice seemed stiff with disapproval. Heart thumping, Matilda followed her down the hallway to the parlor downstairs.

  “Henry!” she exclaimed.

  Henry smiled up at her. “Matilda.”

  Matilda glanced into the hallway, hoping that her mother wasn't around. She had vanished.

  “It's...it's a lovely surprise to see you,” Matilda said shyly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to tell you Father has had some success with his land dispute,” Henry said. “We now own the acre at the bottom field as well.”

  “Oh, Henry!” Matilda clasped her hands. He looked shyly proud. “That's excellent.”

  “It is good news, yes,” Henry agreed. “I wanted to ask if you could celebrate it by riding there with me tomorrow.”

  “Oh! I'd love that,” Matilda said, feeling herself blush.

  “Good,” Henry said softly. He was standing before her and he looked down at her. Matilda felt her body flutter with wonder.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. She flushed as heat filled her body. The kiss intensified, then, gently, withdrew.

  She looked up at him through eyes clouded with emotion. “Henry.”

  “My sweet Matilda.”

  He brushed a hair off her brow and smiled into her eyes.

  Matilda smiled back. “I look forward to our ride tomorrow,” she said softly.”

  “I do too,” Henry agreed, his voice harsh with emotion. “Now I suppose I should go.”

  “Yes, I suppose you should,” she teased.

  Neither of them moved. His blue eyes looked into hers, warm and dancing with merriment. Matilda swallowed hard. He did so also.

  “I should go,” he agreed hoarsely. “I'll see you soon, Mattie. Two hours from luncheon?”

  “If luncheon is midday, yes,” Matilda smiled. He nodded.

  “As always. See you at two of the clock. Tomorrow. At the gate?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled at her over his shoulder again and then left.

  When he had gone, Matilda sank into a wing-back chair, weak with a tumult of feelings. The worry about Father and the news from Lucas mixed with the concern about Lord Epworth. What had he been doing on the path? All of her worry, though, was washed away by the sunshine of Henry's presence.

  And she would see him tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  After luncheon, Matilda nipped up to the drawing room to be alone for a moment. She did not know how she was going to keep herself calm until she could get ready for her ride with Henry. His shy smile played through her mind. She heard footsteps in the hallway. Pauline.

  “Tildie!” she said cheerfully, looking up. “I've hardly seen you...” she paused, then laughed. “Of course, I've seen you, but not been able to talk much.”

  She slipped in and sat on the seat opposite Matilda. Matilda smiled.

  “I know. I've missed talking with you.”

  “I think we've both been thinking a lot recently,” Pauline said slowly. “With this dilemma and Father's illness and Lucas being so upset. And of course, Mother's new project.”

  Matilda pulled a face. They both laughed.

  “Tildie?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think of Alexander Dartmoor?”

  Matilda hesitated. She did not know how much Pauline had guessed about how she felt about him. Being confronted with the need to say something directly, she had no idea what to say.

  “I...I'm unsure of him.”

  “Mm. I know what you mean,” Pauline nodded. “There's something...secretive about him. One does not know what he is thinking. It's unnerving.”

  Matilda felt relief wash through her and she smiled. “Exactly! I'm so glad you feel it too.”

  Pauline nodded. “I'm not sure of Cornelius either.”

  Cornelius, the young earl of Tolford, was the man their mother planned for her. Tall, fair-haired with a handsome, oval face, large blue eyes and a burning passion for the chase, he was not the man Matilda would have chosen for her artistic, gentle sister.

  “I don't feel he's very, well...interesting. Not very refined either,” Matilda said honestly.

  “Yes!” Pauline clapped her hands, her lovely face laughing with relief. “I think so too. Terrible, isn't it?” she added, sobering quickly. “I suppose I should try to like him.”

  “You do try to like him,” Matilda said softly. “It's not your fault it's difficult occasionally.”

  Pauline laughed. “Oh, Matilda! You make me smile.”

  “You do, too,” Matilda ensured her. They sat quietly a while. “Pauline?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could I...could I borrow your blue scarf?”

  “Of course. Why? Are you going out?”

  “I might go riding.”

  “Oh,” Pauline gave her a knowing smile.

  Matilda pouted. “You are my big sister, you know that?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You're awfully good at guessing what's happening in my life.”

  They both laughed.

  Matilda slipped away to her chamber to dress for riding. She chose white, with a white bonnet with blue trim and a blue scarf. Her riding-coat was blue, and the outfit looked quite pretty. It brought out her bright eyes. She hoped she wouldn't encounter her mother on the way – shrewd and sensible, she might guess.

  She looked down the hallway and headed to the front door. Ten minutes later she was riding.

  She met Henry at the gate, where they had always met.

  “Matilda!” he hailed her, raising his hat and riding to take a place beside her.

  Matilda blushed, seeing the way his smile lit from within, seeing her. She was sure she did the same, for every part of her felt warm. “Henry. Good day.”

  “Well!” he smiled. “Shall we ride?”

  “Let's go.”

  Henry drew in beside her and they rode together. Matilda felt her heart soaring as they rode together, chatting happily. Being with Henry was so easy, so gracious. They had so many things to talk about – the woodlands, and how they were so verdant this year, the larks, the way the spring was slowly warming toward summer.

  “The sky looked so lovely this morning – so blue, with all those white clouds...” Matilda enthused.

  “It is a lovely time of year,” Henry agreed. “I saw the swallows – so many of them out now!”

  “Yes!” Matilda tipped her head back as they rode, looking up at the blue skies, now almost clear, only the trace of clouds here and there, hurrying before a high wind.

  When she looked up, Henry was smiling.

  “What?”

  “You look so beautiful, Matilda. That blue becomes you well. And your lovely smile, too...” he trailed off, smiling at her.

  Matilda swallowed. “Oh, Henry. You're so nice.”

  “I'm not nice,” he said crossly. “I'm truthful.”

  She laughed. “Truthful, and lovely.”

  Henry blushed.

  “Shall we see the new acre?”

  “Yes!” Matilda said happily. “Let's!”

  She rode off behind him and they let the horses have free rein, running across the fields. She laughed with delight, hanging onto the rein, the wind buffeting her and making her eyes water. She was free and happy and life was lovely.

  They reached the bottom of his father's land.

  “Look,” he walked a little ahead, stretching out a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “Here it is. All that, beyond the fence. Green and lush and lovely.”

  Matilda laughed. “Oh, Henry! Only you could make such a dramatic introduction for a field.”

  “It needs one,” he
said with mock affront. She laughed again.

  “It is a very meritorious field,” she agreed. “In time, we shall arrange a band for it, and its own fanfare.”

  Henry laughed, tipping back his head.

  “Matilda. It's so good to see you.”

  “It's good to see you.”

  They rode back slowly, taking the path to the tree. There they stopped, looking out across the fields together.

  “Matilda,” Henry said, clearing his throat. “You know that my father wants me to inherit all this. Which means he wants me to...have a stable future. You know what I mean.”

  Matilda nodded. He meant his father wished him to wed. She felt as if he'd hit her. “Yes I do.”

  “Matilda,” Henry said again. They had dismounted, and he turned to face her, his blue eyes looking right into her own. “I told him no. I said, there's only one girl for me. And she can't have me. So I'll wait.”

  Matilda looked at him. She felt her heart twist as if someone had entered her chest, sawing at it from within. It was agony. “Oh, Henry.”

  Wordlessly, she embraced him.

  “My dear Matilda.”

  “Henry,” Matilda murmured as he held her in his arms. “You're too good, Henry.”

  “I'm not. You know my heart.”

  “I know it, because it is like mine,” Matilda whispered. “It is mine, I sometimes think. More mine than my own is.”

  Henry smiled at her, stroking her hair. He kissed her again, a chaste, gentle kiss.

  “I think that is not possible, my dear. For I have no heart. It was, and always is, yours.”

  Matilda did sob, then. They clung together for a long time before returning slowly to the house.

  When she reached her room, Matilda lay down on her bed, face wet with weeping.

  She was happy, she was elated. She was also tragically upset. She loved Henry, and he did her. But how would their love be realized?

  I wish I were not an earl's daughter. I wish I was a fisher woman, or a maid – any who could follow her heart, unconstrained.

  She laughed sadly. She knew that was not true. As an earl's daughter she had so many fewer constraints on her than most women. There was only one constraint, in truth. To wed a man of her mother's choosing. And that was not the man she wanted.

  I suppose I'll have to wait and see what happens. And pray Father recovers.

  Her father, Matilda thought, would be more-ready to see her point of view on this matter. But her father was gravely ill.

  And she had to do as her family expected of her: what they needed her to do, to help them all.

  Chapter 9

  As the sun soaked in through the window of the drawing-room, Matilda heard Mrs. Marwell running for the door. She half-sat, then leaned back in the chair.

  It must be Doctor Jarrow.

  It was tea time – later than she had expected him to be. She let herself relax, breathing in the scents of gardenia, tea and buttery bread. The clock on the mantelpiece said half an hour past five. It was not early, she thought, slowly stirring tea, but it was good of him to come as soon as he could do.

  Her mother leaned forward, looking confused.

  “Was that Marwell? Are we expecting visitors?”

  “I...” Matilda cleared her throat. She was spared from answering by Mrs. Marwell, starched cap quivering with her recent haste, appearing at her side.

  “Milady?”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “It be Doctor Jarrow,” she explained, indicating with her head to where the doctor waited, presumably, at the stairwell somewhere.

  “I'll come down.”

  “Very good, milady.”

  Matilda nodded to Pauline and to her mother.

  “Is the doctor here to see Father?” Pauline asked quickly.

  “Yes. I called him yesterday.”

  “Oh! Good.” Pauline sighed. “Can I help?”

  “Don't worry, Pauline. I'll show him up.”

  “Thank you, sister.”

  Their mother looked from one to the other of them, a frown on her brow. Matilda felt guilty for not having told her about the visit, but she hadn't wanted to worry her. She left the room that smelled, delicately, of spices and tea, and went quickly and quietly along the hallway.

  “Doctor?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Thank you for coming so soon. The patient's upstairs.” She led him up to her father's office and waited outside, feeling quite distressed. She stood outside in the hallway, feeling distressed. How long could it take?

  She found herself pacing in the hallway before the window, barely noticing the clouded sky beyond the pane, the fields lost in swathes of mist. Her heart thudded and each noise seemed to disturb her.

  “My lady?”

  “Yes?” She whipped round sharply, seeing Doctor Jarrow reappear. He was drying his hands on a length of white linen and looked no more or less worried than normal. “How is Father?”

  “He seems well,” Doctor Jarrow explained quietly, motioning her a distance from her father's office and the possibility of his overhearing. “In the body, that is. Nothing unsound.”

  “And his mind..?”

  “He is overwrought, my lady,” the doctor said reassuringly. “I think the tension of the last months has worn on him. Your uncle's visit, aunt Tertia's illness...it's worn on him.”

  “Oh,” Matilda nodded, biting her lip. “I understand. Can we help?”

  Doctor Jarrow smiled. “My dear, sweet lady.” He nodded. “I think rest is what he needs. Perhaps time away? I think a holiday would do him good. But not too far or long...Don't agitate him, with demanding plans.”

  “No,” Matilda said, nodding briskly. “Nothing to alarm him.”

  “Quite.” Doctor Jarrow nodded, approvingly, then was already heading downstairs again.

  “What of the medicine, Doctor?” Matilda asked, referring to the bottle he had given her as she followed him down. She had clean forgot it yesterday. “When should he take it?”

  “In the evenings. Put two drops in milk before he takes his rest. I'm glad you waited,” he added, nodding slowly. “The earl's health is worse than I imagined. Too much of the sleeping-draft would do no good for him.”

  “Oh,” Matilda said, biting her lip. “Thank you for telling me,” she added quickly. “I'm glad I wasn't hasty.”

  “That's the spirit,” the doctor said, patting her hand. “Now, fret not,” he added, pausing at the front door again. “I don't need you ill with nerves. Or you'll both be needing a holiday away.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Matilda said, smiling warmly. “And thank you. Tell Shipsley the details – he'll ensure your account is paid.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  “Good day.”

  As she waved a farewell and hurried upstairs to the breakfast room once more, she could not help a shiver of anxiety. How could she not worry? She had so much to worry about. The accounts, their father, herself...

  “Tildie?”

  Matilda sighed as she walked into the breakfast room, her breath all coming out in a rush as she noticed their mother was not there. She could talk to Pauline alone.

  Her sister had stood, her dark brown eyes looking back, concerned. “What did the doctor say?”

  “Father's not well,” Matilda said. “He needs rest.”

  “Is that all?” Pauline asked, her oval face creased with a sudden frown. “Will it help? The rest, I mean.”

  “I trust, yes,” Matilda said, suddenly truly weary. She drew out a chair and sank into it, glad Mrs. Marwell had been in to tidy the rooms while she was away.

  Pauline sat opposite. “What did the doctor really say?” she asked, reaching across.

  “He said he needed rest,” Matilda repeated softly. “He said he's overwrought. That was all. I promise.”

  Pauline stroked her hand gently. “Good. I didn't think you were concealing anything. I just wanted to make sure. It seems so...so odd that worry could do this to him. Though I
can imagine he's worried,” she agreed softly. “With all the goings-on of late...Tertia's illness, Bert's arrival...there has been a great deal to disturb him.”

  “Indeed,” Matilda nodded. “That's what Doctor Jarrow said.”

  “Good.”

  “Mm.”

  They sat quietly for a while, Pauline holding her hand. After a moment, Pauline lifted her black eyes to meet Matilda's own.

  “Tildie?”

  “Yes, Sister?”

  “What if Father went away awhile? To the sea, or...somewhere relaxing. I'm sure it would raise his spirits. Take his mind off his worries.”

  “A seaside holiday?” Matilda frowned. “It might help...”

  “I think it would,” Pauline said, sounding enthusiastic. “Lady Teller was effusing about her latest visit – how curative for the nerves, and all that,” she said, smiling with a gentle humor. “But you never know...she really does look better since being there. The waters are very beneficial.”

  Matilda frowned. “Well...it might help...” she said, considering it slowly. “Doctor did say a holiday could improve his condition somewhat.”

  “It would help,” Pauline said firmly. “So you must stop fretting. I don't like seeing you worrying.”

  Matilda smiled. “Dearest, I am well.”

  “No,” Pauline said firmly, “you aren't. You and Father worry too much. And if it made him so ill, I'm not risking it. What if it happened to you, too? I won't let it.”

  Matilda laughed, a little hysterical, she thought, as the relief flowed over her. But she was relieved. She squeezed Pauline's hand affectionately.

  “I think it's a good idea,” Matilda nodded firmly. “Thank you, dearest. And I promise I won't become as poorly with worrying.”

  “Good. No need to thank me,” Pauline said firmly. “Now, we have to find Mother. She can help us plan.”

  “Where is Mother?” Matilda asked, pushing in her chair.

  Pauline shrugged. “I don't know. Probably downstairs in the parlor She usually sews a while.”

  “True.”

  They headed from the breakfast-room to the parlor downstairs. They heard a laugh from the parlor and guessed she was most-likely there. A man's voice rang out, clearly amused.