The Dark Earl

by Virginia Henley

  As Trixy unwrapped a roast partridge for the Scot, she confided, “My sister Jane was in heaven when she shared your rowboat. She never stops talking about you, Will. She is infatuated with everything about you, especially your brogue.”

  Will laughed. “That’s very flattering. Most young ladies are smitten by Montagu House, rather than Montagu’s heir.”

  Jane decided to make D’Arcy aware of her sister Beatrix by telling him her sister’s innermost secrets. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Trixy has lost her heart to you.”

  She took out a carafe of claret wine and poured him a large glass.

  “She was over the moon with happiness when Harry was being courted by Thomas Anson. She hoped that you would ask her to go for a carriage ride.”

  D’Arcy quaffed his wine and listened attentively.

  “When Trixy found out that Harry had asked you to partner her today, she was devastated and gave Harry a setdown.”

  “Really?” He smiled lazily. “What did she say?”

  “She told Harry that it was inconsiderate and decidedly shallow to collect all the eligible bachelors like she was gathering a bunch of dandelions, then toss them aside one by one because they didn’t match her dress.”

  D’Arcy laughed. “Trixy is delightful. Harry does have a tendency to blow hot and cold. But she won’t change her mind this time. She’s met her match.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “So you intend to offer for her?”

  “Absolutely. We already have an understanding. Harry has agreed to a betrothal at the end of the Season.”

  Jane sighed. “It must be wonderful when two people fall in love.”

  Thomas Anson found himself paired with Rachel Russell. He decided it was his opportunity to learn a few things about Harry. “I heard you paid a visit to Hazard House last week.”

  “Oh Lord, I suppose everyone has heard by now. I needed to do research on gambling for one of my stories, so Harriet arranged for us to go to a gaming hell. It was a dreadful place; I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

  “But Harry enjoyed it?”

  “Oh no, not at all. But she is so generous. She arranged it for my sake.”

  “What sort of things does Harriet enjoy?”

  “High on her list is championing women’s rights. She is friends with Barbara Leigh Smith and the women suffragists who meet in Langham Place.”

  Thomas smiled. “Yes, I know she is interested in getting a bill passed so that women can own property.”

  “The causes she champions are much broader than that. She cares about the plight of poor children, and the squalid state of London’s slums. She has just signed petitions to improve the unsanitary sewage that is rife in certain sections of the city.”

  “So, she is a champion of the downtrodden and follows the lead of her uncle Lord John Russell.”

  Rachel laughed. “Johnny is my brother.”

  “Yes, I know he is. He works tirelessly in Parliament. I admire him enormously.” Speaking with Rachel made Thomas all the more aware that he had been too quick to judge Harry.

  After lunch, Lady Lu announced a game of croquet. The ladies were thrilled; the men not so much, but they gallantly agreed to join in the game.

  The Duke of Abercorn pulled Thomas aside. “How would you like to join me at the trout stream for a bit of fishing while the ladies play croquet?”

  “That would suit me to a T, Your Grace.”

  Harriet and D’Arcy strolled arm in arm across the lawn toward the croquet hoops and mallets. Their eyes followed Abercorn and Anson as they headed toward the trout stream carrying fishing rods.

  “Damnation! I was looking forward to a private word with your father. I shall need his help if I ever hope to be appointed lord lieutenant of Durham.”

  Harry stopped walking and looked up into his eyes. “Would you like me to ask him for you, D’Arcy?”

  “Would you, Harry? I’m sure he would put in a good word for me if he knew I was going to be his future son-in-law.”

  “I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, D’Arcy,” Harry teased. “Of course I will ask him. Father will speak to Prince Albert—Albert will speak to Victoria, and voilà!”

  D’Arcy pulled her to him and kissed her. “Voilà indeed!”

  The birthday supper served at six was a veritable banquet. Prawns and lobster accompanied smoked trout. Roast game hens, stuffed with chestnuts, followed. Haunches of venison had been roasting all afternoon, and by the time it was served, the flesh was tender and the skin was a crackling, crispy brown. The vegetables were all grown at Campden Hill. Leeks, marrows, squash, and roasted apples decorated the meat platters.

  Ale, cider, wine, and Irish whiskey were there for the taking, and the myriad desserts, from fruit tarts to gingerbread, were surpassed only by the magnificent two-tiered birthday cake decorated with roses.

  After the meal, Lady Lu opened her presents. She made as much fuss over the simple handmade offerings of her younger children as she did the rope of magnificent black pearls from her husband.

  Harry gave her a book that included all four parts of Keats’s epic love poem Endymion.

  “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’—he could’ve been writing of you, Mother.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  D’Arcy had framed a photograph he’d taken the night he’d been invited to dinner.

  “D’Arcy, how thoughtful. Though it tends to disprove Keats’s first line.”

  The last gift she opened was a delicately carved mother-of-pearl fan. “Oh dear, there is no card. But whoever it is from has exquisite taste and knows what will please a lady.” She looked at Thomas Anson and wondered if the fan was from him.

  Harry made an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are all invited next door, where Mademoiselle Rachelle will do a Mystical Tarot Card Reading for any who are brave enough to take a glimpse into their future.”

  Every last female present was eager and excited. The men dutifully followed them next door to Campden Hill, pretending a disbelief in all things mystical and total disinterest in predictions about their futures. They assured one another, however, that fortune-telling was good for a laugh.

  Lady Rachel, wearing a Gypsy dress, head scarf, and golden earrings, sat in the drawing room at a table that was decorated with mystic paraphernalia. Before her were a crystal ball, an incense burner, tall candles, and tarot cards.

  The lamps were turned down low and the guests took seats around the room. When the duchess arrived, she inquired, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a séance? They are the absolute rage these days.”

  Rachel spoke up. “Lu, if we have a séance, Mother will show up and point out all our shortcomings.”

  “Good Heavens, you’re right. Her catalogue of complaints would be so long, we’d miss the fireworks display that Abercorn has planned.”

  “Since it’s your birthday, would you like me to read your cards first, Lu?”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t need the tarot cards to tell me what’s in my future. I have my own predictions. Before the year is out, I shall be planning at least two, and possibly three, weddings.” She gave Captain Butler a speculative look. “After the Season, Abercorn will insist on an idyll to Barons Court in Ireland, and I’m sure you can all guess what happens nine months after an idyll.”

  Everyone laughed at her innuendo.

  “By that, I take it you intend to outdo the queen?” Rachel remarked.

  “I rather think it is Abercorn who is determined to outperform Prince Albert.”

  When the laughter died down, Rachel challenged, “Come on, which one of you is brave enough to go first?”

  No one spoke up and the room fell silent. Finally, Harry stood up, and pulled D’Arcy after her. “Never let it be said that I am a coward!”

  D’Arcy helped her into a chair at the table, and took the other one himself.

  Rachel picked up the tarot cards and handed them to Harry. “Since there are so many here who
would like a reading, we will use the Celtic Cross layout, which limits you to eight cards.” She nodded to Harry. “Shuffle the deck, make a wish, and lay out the first four cards in a cross. Then place the next four over them in a diagonal cross.”

  Harry followed instructions and quickly laid out her eight cards.

  “Your first card is the Fool.” Harry’s sisters giggled, and Rachel hushed them with a fierce glare. “This card means you have a choice in life. At the end of the path you choose lies a destiny. Trial and error brings wisdom. The choices you make determine whether you end up a wise woman or remain a fool.”

  D’Arcy took Harry’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Ah, your next card is the Lovers.”

  “Bravo!” D’Arcy said with a grin.

  Rachel continued: “On the surface, it represents young love, romance, courtship, and marriage. The man protects and the woman enjoys his security. On a deeper level, it is a struggle between love and lust. However, it is the female who determines the quality of the love relationship. The male merely responds. The woman leads; the man follows.”

  All the girls cheered.

  Rachel picked up the next card. “The Hanged Man.”

  “That sounds bad,” Harry declared.

  “Not at all,” Rachel said firmly. “It has a humorous overtone. Please note there is nothing to show he is tied to the cross. He is standing on his head to shake up his brains. The card means you should suspend judgment and postpone plans. But always remember that you can free yourself anytime you wish. To achieve your desired goals, you must change the direction of your life.”

  “All the rest of my cards are swords. What does that mean?”

  “Swords represent quarrels, anxiety, deception, and enemies. They also represent courage, a fighter for truth, and a defender of man’s rights.”

  “You mean woman’s rights,” Harry corrected.

  “Unfortunately, all these swords in your layout mean you won’t get your wish.”

  Harry wrinkled her nose. “Now it’s your turn, D’Arcy. Don’t be a coward.”

  He winked at Rachel, shuffled the cards, and laid them out. “Do your worst.”

  “Your first card is the Wheel of Fortune. This means things will take a turn for the better. You will make constant progress in your life, work, and goals. It means getting ahead, and being in control. Though your fate will have unexpected twists and turns, this card means you will have an abundance of good luck.”

  Will Montagu laughed. “D’Arcy never has any other kind.”

  Rachel continued. “Your next card is the Empress, which means abundance in all things—health, crops, big business profits. The Empress opens the door to all earthly treasures and pleasures.”

  D’Arcy’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “All the rest of your cards are pentacles, which represent wealth, luxury, jewels, inheritances, property, castles, financial security, and money to burn.”

  Now all the men were laughing. “That’s D’Arcy, all right. Wouldn’t you know it?”

  In the darkened room, Thomas Anson heard Lady Beatrix sigh with longing. He bent his head toward her. “Why don’t you go next, Trixy? I predict your tarot cards will be good.”

  Harry and D’Arcy moved away from the table, and Thomas held a chair for Beatrix, sitting down beside her to lend her courage.

  Trixy was eager and yet hesitant at the same time. As she shuffled and laid out the cards, her hands trembled.

  Rachel picked up the first card. “Oh, the Nine of Cups. Trixy, that is the highest of all tarot cards. It means happiness, contentment, and fulfillment. It is the wish card, and anytime it begins a layout, it means you will get your wish.”

  Trixy gasped with joy.

  Rachel continued. “The Sun. Trixy, I can’t believe how good your cards are. This means a golden opportunity. It means attainment, success. You will have both material wealth and personal satisfaction.” Rachel turned over another card. “Look at that—the Three of Wands. That is a time card. You will achieve your desires in a three—that could mean three days, three weeks, three months, or three years.”

  “Well, I hope it doesn’t take three years!”

  Rachel continued. “All your other cards are pentacles and, as you know, that means luxuries, jewels, property, and financial security.”

  “Thank you, Rachel, for telling my future, and thank you, Thomas, for giving me courage to have my cards read.”

  “If you want something, Trixy, you should go after it,” Thomas urged. “The cards say you will achieve your desire in a three.”

  “Rachel did say I was sure to get my wish. Now it’s your turn.”

  Thomas hesitated. He didn’t believe in prophecy—he believed you made your own fate. But this was just a game. It amused Trixy, and he would be churlish to decline.

  Rachel picked up the first card he laid out. “The Magician. This means you are your own man. It signifies self-mastery, self-control. It represents intelligence and confidence. You do not need the approval of others. When you set a goal, you will achieve it.”

  Rachel picked up the next card. “The Chariot. This often follows the Magician.

  It means your willpower and your mind are your only weapons for survival. You will achieve your goals only if you exercise self-discipline.”

  Rachel lifted the next card and she hesitated. Both she and Thomas saw that it was the Death card. He looked into her eyes and imperceptibly shook his head.

  At that moment, Abercorn arrived. “There you are, Thomas. I believe your clothes are dry, and I was wondering if you’d like to give me a hand with the firework display.”

  Thomas had a horror of fire, but he firmly pushed it away. “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace.” He placed the Death card facedown and got up from the table.

  Abercorn waved his hand. “Enjoy your tarot card readings, ladies. By the time you are finished, we’ll have the fireworks set up in front of the lake. I promise you all a fitting climax to a birthday celebration that will light up the sky.”

  An hour later, the guests emerged from the house and began to gather at the spacious gazebo that overlooked the lake. As they walked, some of them separated into couples. Will Montagu accompanied Lady Jane, Captain Butler walked beside “Mademoiselle Rachelle,” and D’Arcy Lambton strolled hand in hand with Harry. When Henry Edgcumbe fell in beside Trixy, she gave him a grateful smile.

  Abercorn, with the help of Thomas Anson, had set up the fireworks so that they would go off consecutively, one after another, without pause. He’d bought them from the manufacturer that had created the magnificent pyrotechnics for the opening of the Crystal Palace, and felt confident the display would be twice as spectacular as the previous year.

  He spoke confidentially to Thomas. “Much as I’d like to set them alight myself, I cannot deprive the gamekeeper of doing the honors. Hawkins has done it every year and I don’t want to run the risk of offending him.”

  Thomas glanced at Hawkins, who stood at the ready with his lantern and long wooden tapers with sulfur tips. Thomas was relieved to see a row of stable hands with water-filled wooden buckets. “I think that’s a wise decision, Your Grace. Shall we join the spectators?”

  The crowd had now grown to include the indoor and outdoor staffs of both Campden Hill and Holland House. The Duke and Duchess of Abercorn’s younger children had been given permission to stay up late to watch the fireworks, and sat on the grass in front of their watchful nursemaids.

  Abercorn joined his wife, and then he signaled Hawkins to start the show. As the first brilliant Roman candle shot into the air and filled the sky with a silver shower of stars, he slipped his arm about Lady Lu. “Happy birthday, darling.”

  She gazed up at him with adoring eyes. “You promised me skyrockets, and you’ve always kept your word.”

  Harry, standing near her parents, heard their loving exchange, and wished with all her heart that when she married, her husband would worship her with the same devotion he
r father lavished upon her mother. She felt D’Arcy’s arm steal about her waist and draw her close. She decided not to pull away from him. I believe D’Arcy truly loves me.

  Thomas began to watch the enraptured faces of the Hamilton children. It warmed his heart that their devoted parents had dedicated themselves to assuring their offspring had happy childhoods. He could not help but compare Abercorn’s paternal care with the shortcomings of his own father. He vowed that when he had children of his own, he would be a loving parent.

  Thomas glanced down and saw Beatrix smiling up at him.

  “I’m sorry I spoiled your day by falling into the lake, my lord.”

  “Trixy, in no way did you spoil my day. You have been a delightful companion.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “You are a good friend to say so.”

  “I mean it, Trixy. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the queen’s Bal Costume at Buckingham Palace next week?”

  “Oh, thank you. I would be honored indeed, Thomas.”

  After the fireworks display, and before the guests thanked their hosts and departed, they enjoyed another piece of birthday cake and offered a final toast to Lady Lu. The family was spending the night at Campden Hill, and though the gentlemen had been offered accommodation for the night, they all graciously declined.

  D’Arcy clapped Thomas on the back. “Why don’t you drive back to London with me? I’d appreciate the company.”

  “I came with Montagu, but since you and I live so close, there will be no need to inconvenience Will if you’ll drop me off.”

  When the stablemen harnessed Lambton’s grays to his phaeton, he took the reins and Anson climbed up beside him. Thomas complimented him on his matched pair and waited for D’Arcy to bring up the subject of the Hamilton daughters. He was shrewd enough to know it was inevitable.

  “You lucky devil, Thomas. That was an amazing opportunity to play hero to Trixy.”