The Dark Earl

by Virginia Henley

  “Beatrix is such a delight. She is so fun loving and amenable and always ready to defer to a gentleman’s wishes.”

  “Abercorn certainly seems to have taken a special interest in you.”

  “That was just his way of thanking me for going in the lake after his daughter. He’s very fond of Beatrix. I enjoyed her company today—it was truly refreshing.”

  D’Arcy gave him a level look. “You mean refreshing after dealing with Harry.”

  Thomas flashed him a grin. “You said that—I didn’t. But we both know that Harriet has a mind of her own, and could never be described as amenable.”

  “She’ll settle down once she becomes a wife.”

  Thomas spoke with deliberate calculation. “I’m not so sure. Her main reason for marrying is because she’ll have more rights as a married woman. She has joined the suffragists so she can crusade for women’s rights.”

  “When she becomes the Countess of Durham, she’ll have no time for that nonsense.”

  “No, she will be consumed by the plight of those who work in the Durham collieries. She’ll take up the cause of the poverty-stricken miners. It is amazing that two sisters can be so different. Beatrix’s only desire is to have a noble husband she can love and serve.”

  “You lucky dog, Anson. Will you offer for her?”

  “Good heavens, no. We are just friends. Trixy has lost her heart to another.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I know so, D’Arcy. She never stops talking about you.” He paused for emphasis. “It must be very gratifying to have both beautiful sisters eager to do your bidding.”

  “Good morning, Father. I thought I’d join you for breakfast.”

  The servant arrived with Abercorn’s food. “What would you like, my lady?”

  “I’ll have exactly the same as my father, thank you.”

  “Harriet, everyone is still sound asleep. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “I always enjoy spending time with you, but to be brutally honest, I want to have a private conversation without the rest of the family interrupting.”

  “Ah, you have an ulterior motive. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Everyone in the world has an agenda.”

  Harry thought about it for a moment, and then smiled at the truth of his words. “I have some questions about the role of lord lieutenant. What duties does it encompass?”

  “Lord lieutenants are the queen’s representative in their county. They arrange visits for members of the royal family and they present medals and awards to industry on her behalf. They are responsible for law and order and to see that justice is carried out. For the most part, the lord lieutenant and his wife participate in social activities to promote a spirit of cooperation between the county’s people and its industry.”

  “When you were lord lieutenant of Donegal, I don’t remember any royal visits, or award presentations, or many social activities for that matter.”

  “That’s because there were none. It was during the time of the tragic Irish potato famine. The entire populace suffered devastation. Your mother and I were hard-pressed to keep the people of Donegal from starvation.”

  “Did England pay for that, or did you use your own money?”

  “I wasn’t naive enough to expect the government to send money to Ireland. It has always been a poor country that contributed little to England’s wealth.” He strove to lighten his words with humor. “And your uncle Johnny didn’t become prime minister until my two-year term was over.”

  “Why on earth would D’Arcy Lambton want to be the lord lieutenant of Durham?”

  “Now I see the reason for your questions. Durham is a very different kettle of fish than an Irish county. England derives a great deal of her wealth from Durham.”

  “So you think D’Arcy could well afford to be its lord lieutenant? The appointment wouldn’t reduce him to being a pauper?”

  Abercorn laughed heartily. “Since D’Arcy Lambton is the Earl of Durham, he will grow wealthier with every passing year. England is the leading industrialized country in the entire world, and coal is its most important commodity. Only think for a moment—coal heats our homes; it is the fuel we use for cooking. Coal is used to run our factories, our railroads, and our ships. Every shovelful of coal helps to fill D’Arcy’s coffers.”

  “Thank you so much for enlightening me. You paint such a clear picture.”

  “So D’Arcy entertains serious ambitions to become Durham’s lord lieutenant?”

  “Among other ambitions.”

  “Such as?”

  “He wants you for his father-in-law.”

  “So that’s the way the wind blows.” His brows drew together. “You know, Queen Victoria makes these appointments on the recommendation of her prime minister.”

  Harry’s face fell. The present prime minister was Abercorn’s stepfather, and there was neither love nor even civility between them. Then she brightened. “There is a way around that obstacle. If you recommend D’Arcy Lambton to Prince Albert, he will be sure to mention it to Her Majesty. Victoria strives to please her husband in every way.”

  “Did D’Arcy ask you to speak to me, Harriet?”

  “Absolutely not. He was going to talk to you himself, but when I offered to speak to you on his behalf, he was extremely grateful.”

  “Has he asked you to marry him, Harry?”

  “He hasn’t formally proposed, because I’ve told him I won’t give him an answer until the end of the Season. But he has referred to me as his future countess, and he insists our marriage is what you and Mother want for me.”

  “Harriet, your mother and I want you to make up your own mind when it comes to choosing a husband. The choice is yours, not ours. We want only your happiness.”

  “Thank you, Father. Your assurance means a great deal to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  The family spent the day at Campden Hill and in the evening drove back to London.

  Before Harry left, she visited with Rachel to bid her good-bye. “You must try to come to the queen’s costume ball at Buckingham Palace next week. It will be so much more fun if we can both be there in our short skirts.”

  “As a matter of fact, I shall be attending. Lord Butler has invited me, and has offered to pick me up in his carriage. I don’t know if I shall have enough courage to wear a costume with a short skirt, however.”

  “Well, to be truthful, I don’t know what I’ll be wearing either. But I know I’ll have more fun if you are there. Bye-bye, Rachel. Thank you for making Mother’s birthday celebration so special.”

  Two hours later, after their cook, Mrs. Gilbert, fed them some chicken broth with dumplings, the Hamilton sisters retired to bed. Their conversations centered about the tarot card readings that “Mademoiselle Rachelle” had provided.

  “My cards were better than anyone else’s, and moreover, I’m supposed to get my wish within a three!” Trixy could not hide her excitement.

  “What do you think, Harry?” Jane asked. “Do wishes really come true?”

  “Some do, I suppose. But my tarot cards were mostly swords, so I don’t have much hope. I also got the Fool and the Hanged Man. I couldn’t have received worse cards.”

  “Oh, Harry, they weren’t all bad,” Trixy reminded her. “You got the Lovers! I wish that I’d gotten that card. It must be the most exciting thing in the world to have a lover!”

  Harry climbed into bed and thought about it. “The cards say that it is the woman who determines the quality of the love relationship. The man merely responds. There may be some truth in that.”

  In the middle of the night, Harry began to dream:

  She was riding in an open carriage with D’Arcy. They were driving up to a beautiful castle that stood atop a green hill.

  “Welcome to Lambton Castle, my love.”

  “Ahhh, it is even lovelier than I imagined. I have such a passion for buildings, and this is an exact replica of a medieval castle.”

  “Wait until you see
the interiors,” he promised. He took her hand and helped her from the carriage. “When Father had it built, money was no object.”

  The great hall was spacious, its walls decorated with ancient swords and burnished armor. A long oak table, polished to a mirror finish and complete with twenty-four carved chairs, sat before a massive stone fireplace. The floor was covered with a thick Oriental carpet, and ironbound chests stood against the walls.

  “What are the chests for?”

  D’Arcy walked over and lifted one of the lids. “They are to hold all the gold coins I receive from selling Durham’s coal.”

  Harry lifted her arms and twirled about with joy. Then she began to ascend a grand staircase. She looked behind and beckoned, making sure D’Arcy would follow. When she ran out onto the ramparts, he caught up with her and led her to the crenellated wall.

  “I was saving it as a surprise, but I got word today that I have been appointed lord lieutenant of Durham.”

  “Congratulations, D’Arcy.” She brushed her fingertips across his cheek and gazed into his blue eyes. “Without a doubt, you will be the handsomest lord lieutenant this county has ever known.”

  He slipped his arms around her and drew her close. “Harry, will you marry me?”

  She lifted her arms about his neck and laughed up into his attractive face. “Yes, D’Arcy, I would love to be your wife and become the next Countess of Durham.”

  His lips captured hers in a long, sensual kiss. Then suddenly the air was filled with the cascading silver and gold stars of fireworks that lit up the dark sky. The castle pyrotechnics ended in a loud explosion.

  It brought Harry out of her dream, and she sat up in bed with her heart pounding. Then she realized it was a loud crack of thunder that had awakened her. She got out of bed to close the window and stood staring at the flashes of lightning that lit up the sky. When her heart stopped racing, she remembered her dream. D’Arcy asked me to marry him, and I said yes!

  “The theme for this year’s Bal Costume is the Restoration period. I wager every male attending will be disguised as King Charles the Second,” Harry declared.

  “And every female will be Queen Catherine of Braganza,” Trixy added.

  “Well, certainly Queen Victoria will, but I prefer going as the insatiable Barbara Castlemaine,” the duchess jested.

  “But that wouldn’t be a disguise,” Harry teased.

  “Oh God, I’m turning into my mother! I just remembered that she went to a royal masquerade ball at St. James’s Palace dressed as Barbara Castlemaine.”

  “Really? And who were you dressed as?”

  “I blush to tell you that I was pretty, witty Nell Gwyn, complete with saucy red curls. I remember singing a very naughty ditty to your father—though he wasn’t your father at the time.”

  “In your day, masquerade balls had one purpose in mind—dalliance. The guests were encouraged to wear risqué costumes, and indulge in flirtatious liaisons. Everyone wore masks to hide their identities, and the king and queen turned a blind eye, pretending it was all innocent fun and games,” Harry declared.

  “You have read too many books where these masquerades have been romanticized. My father totally disapproved. He said that licentious costumes led to licentious behavior, and, thinking back, he was quite right.”

  “But Queen Victoria’s ball, in contrast, will be as exciting as a Sunday school dance. The guests will parade around the Buckingham Palace ballroom wearing ultrarespectable costumes. Exposed bosoms are considered scandalous. I swear, if any lady was daring enough to wear an authentic Restoration fashion, it would be the last royal ball she ever attends.”

  “Fortunately, costumes that represent other countries around the world are always acceptable. I have a fancy to dress as a Russian, since I have a flair for the dramatic.”

  “Mother, I warrant that’s a perfect choice for you, and it has given me an idea for my own costume. No, Trixy, I won’t tell you. It’s to be a surprise.”

  Harry hurried from the room and went in search of her brother James. She found him in the library polishing the hilt on an old sword. “Don’t tell me you’ve been challenged to a duel by Lady Emily’s brother?”

  James laughed. “It’s for the costume ball.”

  “Let me guess. . . . You’re going as a cavalier.”

  “How did you know?”

  “What other disguise would any red-blooded young noble choose? I need your help regarding my own costume, James. But first I have to swear you to secrecy.”

  “You’re going as Lady Godiva!”

  “No, silly. It’s just that Rachel and I made a pact to show off our legs at the queen’s Bal Costume. So I’ve decided to go as a Scottish lad.”

  “A Scottish lad? Good Lord, Harry, you never grow tired of shock and surprise.”

  “Remember the kilt you wore when we were invited to Balmoral? You were about twelve, so I think it will fit me.”

  “It must be up in the attic, unless Mother sent it home with Rose along with all my other clothes I’ve outgrown over the years.”

  “I doubt there’d be much call for kilts in Soho,” she said dryly. “Let’s go and look.”

  The pair spent the next half hour searching through trunks, and at last found what they were looking for.

  “Yes! Just as I was hoping, the entire outfit is here—the black velvet jacket, the kneesocks, and, most important of all, the sporran!”

  “Do you truly have enough nerve to wear that to the palace, Harry?”

  “Only after I’ve shortened it,” she said with a wink.

  On the night of the ball, Harry’s face was devoid of all powder and paint. She brushed her long black hair back smoothly and fastened it with a leather thong. She covered her eyes with a black mask, and then she placed a Gordon plaid tam-o’-shanter on the side of her head, and pinned it to her hair so it wouldn’t fall off.

  When D’Arcy Lambton called for her at Hampden House, Harry made sure her evening cloak covered her costume.

  D’Arcy was wearing a brocade coat, satin knee breeches, and a powered wig.

  “Oh, you look marvelous. Your Regency outfit looks positively authentic.”

  “It should. It belonged to my grandfather Earl Grey.” He stared at Harry’s scrubbed cheeks and pulled-back hair. “You look like a boy tonight.”

  “That’s precisely what I’m supposed to be. Will you be courageous enough to dance with me?”

  “Since I’m privy to the secret that beneath your disguise there beats the heart of a passionate woman, I’ll be courageous enough to do more than dance with you, sweeting.”

  “Let’s hurry. I can’t wait to see what costume Rachel will wear tonight.”

  At Buckingham Palace, when a footman took Lady Harriet’s cloak, D’Arcy’s mouth gaped open when he saw the short kilt and Harry’s deliciously long legs exposed for the entire world to see. “Good God, Harry, you make me feel randy as a Regency buck!”

  “Lucky you,” she teased, then added with a wink, “Lucky me!”

  They joined the circle to parade around the throne room. Harry received many disapproving stares over her daring costume, but she blithely shrugged them off. “By the way, I spoke to my father and told him you had an ambition to become the lord lieutenant of Durham.”

  “Good girl! What did he say?” he asked eagerly.

  “He informed me that Queen Victoria makes such appointments upon the recommendation of her prime minister.”

  “So, do you think your father will recommend me to Aberdeen?”

  “Not a chance. They dislike each other. Intensely!” Then she smiled. “Father will do better than that. I warrant he will speak directly to Prince Albert.”

  The reception rooms were crowded with people in costume. Everyone of consequence in London had accepted the prestigious invitation to the queen’s Bal Costume at Buckingham Palace.

  The parade music stopped, which was the signal for everyone to find a dance partner. D’Arcy hesitated about leading a Sco
ttish lad onto the dance floor, and Harry was secretly enjoying his discomfort.

  Will Montagu was partnering Jane, and when they saw D’Arcy and Harry, they stopped to chat. “Great minds think alike,” Harry quipped when she saw that Montagu was in full Highland dress. “You must save me a dance, Will. It will set tongues a-wagging.”

  Jane looked aghast at her sister. “Harry, your knees are bare!”

  “Aye. So are Will’s. The only difference is that I put rouge on mine.”

  Harry watched the dancers whirl by and when the music stopped, she found herself standing beside the queen, who was garbed in a magnificent Restoration gown, sans the low neckline of course.

  Victoria smiled at the Earl of Durham in his brocade coat and powdered wig. “How very elegant you look, Lord Durham.” She glanced at the youth in the kilt. “And who is this young gentleman?”

  D’Arcy cleared his throat. “It’s . . . it’s young James Hamilton, Your Majesty.”

  Harry’s mouth fell open.

  “James, of course! Forgive me for not recognizing you,” the queen apologized.

  Harry bowed low, and then quickly fell back into the crowd. “You were embarrassed to acknowledge me because I was showing my legs. You have the courage of a louse, D’Arcy Lambton.”

  “You forget yourself, Harry. That was Her Gracious Majesty the Queen of England. It would have shocked her beyond belief if she’d recognized you flaunting your limbs.”

  “You are afraid I’d put your lord lieutenancy in jeopardy!” she teased.

  “Nonsense! I was only thinking of your reputation.”

  “Go and get me a drink, and I will forgive you,” she promised. In the crowd, Harry spotted Lord Butler. He was easy to recognize because he was wearing his brilliant captain’s uniform with its shiny brass buttons. She made her way across the floor and was delighted to see that her adventurous aunt had found the courage to expose her legs.

  “Well done, Rachel. Your doublet and hose turn you into a most fetching page boy. Would you believe it? When the queen asked who I was, D’Arcy introduced me as James! When I challenged him, he swore it was to protect my reputation. He’s such a coward.”