Catastrophe With a Count

by Murdoch, Emily

  “I would much rather tell him,” she said finally, slipping her hand into Anthony’s. “Otherwise he could hear it from someone else.”

  She could feel the shudder in Anthony’s body at the thought of her words. “You make an excellent point. If anyone is going to tell him, it had best be you.”

  For a moment, Nerissa stared up at him, confused. It seemed unlikely that they would be able to hide their marriage from her father for any sort of time at all, but then she remembered something that her mother had once told her.

  “Men do not like getting married,” she had said with a knowing smile, “but they love being married. ‘Tis the idea of matrimony that they detest, but the comforts of marriage that they seek.”

  Even if a man truly loved his wife, the moment up to the wedding day itself was often fraught with difficulties, Nerissa thought and remembered her letters from Adena Garland as she was forced to endure matchmaking from her parents.

  That must be it. Anthony obviously wanted to be with her; he was holding her hand right now as tightly as he could. He was just nervous.

  Nerissa had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she had not noticed that they had arrived at the end of Port Royal’s main street.

  Anthony dropped her hand. “Are you ready to return to civilisation?”

  She sighed. Every step into civilisation would mean a step away from that magical evening last night, when she had given herself away to him but gained so much more.

  “I suppose so,” she sighed.

  They continued to walk side by side, and Nerissa could not help but notice the strange stares that they received from others as they walked.

  The first few times, she stared back, but after the sixth person to whisper to their companion as they passed them, she found her cheeks colouring with embarrassment.

  Anthony chuckled. “We must look awful, Nerissa, after our ocean catastrophe and then unplanned stay in the forest overnight!”

  They arrived at the place where Anthony had quartered himself before she knew it, and Nerissa felt a pang at the thought that they were going to be separated already.

  He already had his hand on the door when he paused, and turned to her. “You know,” he said in a quiet murmur, “‘tis the middle of the day. My quarters will be empty, and rather lonely without you. Why do you not join me for an hour? I am sure we can find…something to do.”

  Nerissa felt her heartbeat quicken. He was close, very close, whispering in her ear, and all the wonderful sensations of the night before were rushing back to her. It was so tempting, the idea of going upstairs with him and losing herself in their love.

  “I…I cannot,” she breathed. “I must tell my father…he must know that I am safe.”

  His lips were so close to hers that she was sure he would kiss her, and leaned forward welcoming the kiss, but –

  “Until next time, then,” he growled with a grin, and with that the door was closed behind him.

  Nerissa swallowed down the retort that she had and tried to calm down her breathing. A smile grew on her face. That man was going to be her husband. One day soon, she would not have to say goodbye to him.

  It took but two more minutes of walking before she entered her home, a strangely quiet and empty shell of a place without the patterings of other human beings.

  She stepped across the hall to the library, where her father was almost certain to be found at this time of day, but it was empty. Just as she was about to turn and try the study, the door flew open and her father stormed in – and stopped dead at the sight of her.

  “Ne-Nerissa?” He managed in a strangled voice.

  Before she was able to say a word, Mr Fairchild rushed across the room to hug his child.

  “Where have you been?” He asked frantically, clutching her to him. “The captain said that you and that odious count had both drowned – oh, Nerissa!”

  Nerissa was surprised to feel a flicker of anger as she heard her father speak ill of her future husband, but managed to pull herself away from her doting parent so that she could speak to him.

  “The captain lied,” she said gently, holding her father’s hands in hers. “He was far more interested in saving his own skin than anyone else’s. We managed to swim to shore, and then of course it was too late and too dangerous to try and get back to Port Royal, and so here we are. I am.”

  Mr Fairchild’s eyebrows raised. “Should I be concerned? Was that man rude to you – Count Andrew, or whatever his name was?”

  “Anthony,” she corrected, a slight tingle on her tongue just saying his name, and a blush rising in her cheeks. “And I think the only thing that you need to worry about is paying for a wedding. Anthony proposed, and…and I have accepted.”

  Her father let go of her hands and fell back into his favourite armchair, completely speechless.

  Nerissa watched him carefully, slightly worried that she had given him too great a shock. A few strides across the room brought her to the medicine cabinet, as her father called it. The port bottle inside was almost full, and she took a large glass of it to her father.

  After swallowing the majority of it, Mr Fairchild looked up into the eyes of his daughter. In a quiet voice, he said, “I am…I am very disappointed and angry, my dear, to tell the truth, to hear that you have aligned yourself with…him.”

  Nerissa felt the disappointment in his words, but it did not dissuade her. The burning light of her feelings for Anthony were stronger than it.

  As she spoke, she realised the truth of her words: “I am sorry, father. That is something that I cannot help, because…because I love him.”

  8

  Anthony stared at his reflection in the looking glass. His rented quarters had not initially provided one, but after a few quick words with the servant assigned to care for the rooms, one had been obtained.

  It was cracked. There was some age spotting down one side, and no matter what he did, his cravat was resolutely crooked.

  He swallowed, and his cravat moved. He had experienced nerves before, everyone did, but nothing like this. Nothing like the knowledge that he was going to be entering the lion’s den of events, and presenting himself at the Port Royal Assembly Rooms that night at the ball.

  The ball, the ball. He was a sufficiently proficient dancer, if needed, but he had never enjoyed them. Samuel had always laughed at his attempts to woo the ladies through dance; it had always been his wit, his words which had conquered them.

  But now here he was, dressed to the nines for a ball held in a town where he had but three days previously attempting to publicly humiliate a staunch pillar of the community.

  And then bedded his daughter.

  Anthony coughed and shook his head slightly as though that would help with the correction of his cravat. He must not dwell on it; he just had to concentrate on getting through the evening. He was a count, it was expected of him to attend the only social event that Port Royal had to offer, but he would not have to suffer any more. Within a week, there would be ship that could take him back to London – or at least, part of the way.

  A week to enjoy Miss Nerissa Fairchild. Unless she was truly serious about joining him.

  Anthony tugged at the cravat once more, but everything that he attempted to do just seemed to make it worse – and then he realised why, and groaned, hanging his head. It was a looking glass; everything was backwards.

  He pulled the cravat off and fell back onto the bed, his head dropping into his hands. What did he think he was doing? It was madness to go to the Assembly Rooms tonight, complete madness.

  But it would be a chance to see Nerissa again.

  The night air was warm as Anthony stepped out onto the street with his top hat under his arm and his cravat mercifully straightened by a servant. It was as warm as the night before, when he had taken Nerissa and –

  Anthony cleared his throat, but he could not help a smile from spreading across his face.

  “Oh, I am so close Anthony, don’t stop, please never st
op!”

  He jerked his head to the left as he realised that his feet had taken him precisely to the Assembly Rooms without his conscious thought. Ah, it was just as well. It was just a few streets away, and now he had no time to think about how to hold himself in public, how to ensure that he did not embarrass himself with his dancing, and how to hide his feelings – and very physical desire – for Nerissa from the entire town.

  Anthony stopped dead and groaned. Well, it would have been an excellent idea if he had managed not to think of that. What if the dances here were different from the ones in London? What if he danced with Nerissa, how would he be able to hold in the powerful emotions that were even now welling up inside him?

  There was no point standing here; other inhabitants of the good town were arrived, nodding at him curtly and with as little politeness as possible. He couldn’t just stand out here forever.

  As he stepped in, the announcer bustled towards him, a little man with a large moustache.

  “And who shall I say?”

  Anthony swallowed, and found that his nerves had not left him, which was unusual. Typically he faced the situation and all thought of concern went out the window.

  “Count…Count Stratham. Anthony Quiversley.” The temptation to give another name had been strong for a moment, and Anthony smiled to himself. As though he would ever give up that glorious name of his father’s.

  He strode forward a step behind the announcer, and the double doors were opened to the brilliantly lit Assembly Room. It was packed, with nigh on forty people at least, some of them dancing, most of them chattering around the edges, sharing the town’s gossip just in case anyone had missed it.

  “Anthony Quiversley, Count Stratham,” declared the announcer in a bold, deep voice that was nothing like how he had sounded in the entrance hall.

  Anthony tried to hide a grin at the little man, but it quickly faded as the entire room fell silent, all turning to stare at him.

  And those stares were not welcoming. He could make out that in one corner the judge who had presided over his case was now shaking his head, and there were two young ladies whispering by the punch bowl and looking absolutely scandalised. An older woman who was standing near the doorway gave him a dirty look and ushered away the young lady accompanying her.

  Anthony’s shoulders were tight and his throat seemed very dry, but there was nothing he could do now. There was no leaving this ball until a socially acceptable period of time, and it was only eight o’clock now. He would be here at least three hours, there was no way to leave beforehand without giving offence. He may as well make the most of it.

  He bowed deeply, and as he rose gave the room a smile.

  No one returned either gesture.

  Trying to pretend that he had not noticed this, Anthony’s gaze flickered across the room searching for one face, just one face.

  And then his heart stopped beating and his breath caught in his lungs. There she was. Nerissa Fairchild.

  She was standing near the back of the room looking directly at him with a knowing smile on her lips, and it was as though everything else in the world had stopped. Her face shone out to him like a beacon of hope, and love, and light.

  She was so beautiful. He had thought he had understood her beauty before, but this: this was something else. Her hair had been washed and dressed with delicate diamonds which made her hair appear even more golden. A bright golden gown of silk was elegantly placed upon her, with a shining necklace of gold and diamonds around her neck.

  But her face, oh God, her face. It was honesty and beauty and innocence and delightful erotic knowing, and it was all combined in a smile that told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  They could have been alone in that room together, and Anthony wished that there were. As his heart started to beat again, and he drew a breath in a desperate ragged moan that he hoped beyond hope was quiet, he knew that he was in very real danger of falling in love with Miss Nerissa Fairchild if he was not too careful.

  And then a rush of sound moved back into the room as though the once suspended moment had truly collapsed, and Anthony realised who was standing beside her: Mr Fairchild, her father.

  The pleasant feelings of decadence and desire were immediately replaced by irritation, but he forced it down. He would not cause a scene here, not for Nerissa’s sake. The joy that he gained from her face was more than enough to quell the anger.

  Finding that his feet still did move, Anthony took a few shaky steps forward, and then found his stride to start crossing the room to make his way towards her.

  Her face was beaming, glowing at the sight of him. It was clear to him, and perhaps to everyone around her, that she was pleased to see him, and Anthony found it a comfort and a spark in his limbs to see her.

  “My lady,” he said in murmur as he reached her, bowing deeply. He wanted more than anything to reach out and kiss her hand, kiss her mouth, kiss her neck – but even he knew that the Assembly Room was hardly the place to do such a thing.

  “My lord Count,” Nerissa smiled, dropping into an equally deep curtsey, “I believe that you know my father, Mr Marcus Fairchild?”

  Anthony clenched his teeth and glared at Mr Fairchild and was unsurprised to find an equally fierce glare returned.

  “But father,” continued Nerissa, her features growing more excited, “let me introduce you to my future husband, Anthony Quiversley, Count Stratham.”

  Anthony reeled backwards from her words, actually taking a step away from her in shock.

  “Hu-Husband?” He choked. “Husband?!”

  Mr Fairchild was staring at her with equally shocked features, but he did not seem to have the capacity to say a word.

  Nerissa was staring at Anthony as though he was mad. “Yes, future husband – or fiancé, I suppose, if you prefer it. I do not know which is best, so I leave it up to your preference.”

  “Fiancé,” repeated Anthony in horror. How could she have misunderstood so badly? How could this have happened – he had never made any declarations of love to her, never promised marriage! How could a suggestion of protection have become this?

  “Fiancé,” Nerissa said beaming, ignoring the stunned look of her father.

  “Did I hear that correctly?” A woman who had been passing them on the way back from the punch bowl stopped and smiled benignly at Nerissa. “Did you say fiancé, my dear?”

  “Wait – ” Anthony attempted but he was immediately interrupted.

  “Yes,” Nerissa said simply, taking his hand in hers.

  It felt right, but it was wrong, wrong for her to think such a thing! Anthony’s head whirled and he felt as though the entire Assembly Room was spinning.

  A gentleman walked over to see what the conversation was about. “Is it true then?” The gentleman leered a little at Nerissa, and Anthony’s confusion and panic were shot through with irritation at the stranger. “You are to be married to the Count?”

  “Now hold on a – ” Were all the words that Anthony was able to get out before he was once again, interrupted.

  “Yes, I am to marry Anthony,” said Nerissa prettily.

  “Ah, congratulations my dear!” The woman smiled at her awkwardly, and reached out to shake Anthony’s hand vigorously. He could feel the aftershocks all through his body as his mind attempted to catch up with what was happening. “I-I said so to Violet, so I did, that man has his eye on our Miss Nerissa, and – ”

  “Did I hear tell of a marriage?” A third stranger had approached them, and Anthony started to feel real panic now. How could he stop this, how could he possibly stop it?

  He risked a glance at Mr Fairchild, who was maintaining his glare at him and saying not one word.

  Anthony tried to take in a deep breath, and found himself unable to do so. He was slowly suffocating in that room, unable to speak, unable to make himself heard.

  How could she have misunderstood him? Anthony racked his brains desperately, trying to remember the exact words that he had spo
ken to her, but he could recall nothing that intimated he was ready to go to church with Nerissa.

  Marry her – marry Nerissa! Yes, he had thought about it, but never seriously!

  “ – and then to London, I think,” Nerissa was saying to the five people now gathered around them with a bright smile. “Of course, there is much of the continent that I would like to see, but first we – ”

  “Stop!”

  Anthony’s bellow finally halted the conversation, and all five strangers, Mr Fairchild, and Nerissa stared at him in wonder.

  “Anthony?” Nerissa squeezed the hand that she still had clasped in her own, and smiled. “Is anything the matter?”

  Anthony bowed his head slightly and then made his decision. Ignoring the surprised yells of the group, he strode away, pulling Nerissa with him until they reached a quiet and empty corner of the Assembly room.

  He turned to face her, and his heart seemed to snap. There was such trust, such devotion in her eyes. This would break her heart, but he had to tell her.

  “Nerissa,” Anthony said quietly in an undertone, “Nerissa, I must apologise for this, but I…I believe that you have the wrong idea about me.”

  Her eyes were wide, but her lips were silent.

  “About us,” he continued, his eyes darting across her features, waiting for her to understand.

  She shook her head slightly, her smile fading. “I do not follow you, Anthony.”

  Blowing out his breath and then taking a deep breath in, Anthony looked her in the eye as he said, “Nerissa, I did not actually propose to you.”

  There was a moment of horrendous silence as he watched her attempt to take in his words.

  Eventually, she said quietly, “That is a very poor joke, Anthony.”

  “‘Tis no joke,” Anthony said wretchedly, trying to ignore the craning heads of those who had been but a minute ago congratulating Nerissa on her impending marriage. “I have made you no offer of marriage.”

  “But you did,” Nerissa countered, her eyes wide and face serious.

  “When?” Anthony’s word was desperate, and he was genuine in his question. “When, Nerissa, for I do not recall it!”