His Blessed Epiphany
By Marly Mathews
A Regency Holiday Romance
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2016 by Marly Mathews
www.marlymathews.com
Cover Design by Melody Simmons from Ebookindiecovers
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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter One
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”
Hamlet,SHAKESPEARE
Gloucestershire, England, 1823
“My feet are like two chunks of ice, Fanny. We should have traveled by carriage. Walking to the village at the crack of dawn and then returning on foot was sheer madness! It was utter folly, and your father shouldn’t have allowed it. He indulges you to excess. He thought it good exercise for you, but I say that walking this far in the cold isn’t good for one’s health. It certainly hasn’t been good for my health. I lack the hardy constitution necessary for this kind of exercise. We would have been served better using one of the carriages.”
Lady Epiphany ‘Fanny’ Blessing sighed, and inhaled a large breath of the morning air. It was crisp, cold, and wonderfully rejuvenating. She was returning from her trip to the village, and had walked there and back. Her legs were a bit sore, and she could hear her companion, Miss Duffy, muttering minced oaths beneath her breath, in between rattling on to her. The infernal woman never stopped caviling. No matter what, she always had something to complain about. They were bundled up, and their boots kept their feet toasty warm and dry. The only part of Fanny’s anatomy that felt cold was her nose. If only she had the gumption to tell Miss Duffy what she really thought of her. Instead, she let out a long suffering sigh, plastered a fake grin on her face, and tried to keep from turning back and walloping the woman so hard she fell backward in the snow.
“It wasn’t the crack of dawn, Miss Duffy. Leaving the house at eight thirty in the morning isn’t that early, and besides, would you have missed seeing the delighted children as they opened up their gifts?”
“I could have lived without seeing all of the ragamuffins clamoring for their gifts, aye. We could have caught some kind of disease from them. The one nasty little beggar who was prodding his nose like he was looking for gold, looked as if he had a case of scrofula. Those snotty nosed brats should know their place.”
“The children in the village are not ragamuffins. They might be disadvantaged but they are not dirty nor are they dressed in rags.”
“They would be dressed in rags, if you and the Earl didn’t have such kindly hearts. With such giving and thoughtful natures, Lord Painswick should be poor himself. It is absolutely disgraceful how lenient he is with his tenants, and how well he takes care of their every want and need. He should make them work for it a bit more. Suffering just a wee bit, never hurt a living soul. No, indeed. It builds a person up. Facing adversity makes one dig down deep within their soul. It gives them an independent spirit. Of course, serfs shouldn’t be too independent. They should know exactly who they owe their living to, and they owe their living to your saint of a father.”
Fanny resisted the urge to reach her hand out and slap Miss Duffy. She found she struggled with that troubling inclination several times a day. Her companion had a habit of exaggerating the little things, and looking at the world with a dim view, and one of these days, she was going to stop biting her tongue, and give the cynical woman a piece of her mind.
Miss Euphemia Duffy wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, and she didn’t particularly care for winter. She had moaned and groaned about going to the village to deliver boxes of gifts to the poor, but Fanny had been resolved to go no matter how much Miss Duffy complained. She had told Miss Duffy that she didn’t have to accompany her, hoping and praying that Miss Duffy would stay behind. Alas, she had no such luck. Miss Duffy clung to her like a second shadow. They had enlisted a few of largest footmen to help with carrying the gifts, and of course, they were added protection, should they be set upon by gypsies or other unsavory sorts, as Miss Duffy had feared. She had dreamt up all sorts of calamities that could befall them, from gypsies to highwayman, to vile footpads, to malevolent fairies.
Fanny had spent three Boxing Days without her mother, and she still missed her presence. After the death of her mother, Miss Duffy had written to her father saying that Fanny shouldn’t be left to her own devices. She had told him that Fanny needed a constant companion, and a bit of a guiding hand, now that her mother was gone, and that as a cousin—distant though she might be—she could fulfill those duties. Her father had fallen for it and had invited Miss Duffy to come and be Epiphany’s companion. He had a soft heart when it came to any of her mother’s relations in Ireland. There was no possible way for Fanny to remove her—she had tried dangling other opportunities in front of her face and Miss Duffy hadn’t obliged her by taking the bait.
To think that she would soon lose her father—the grief almost crippled her. Her father had urged her to remain strong, and to be his good little soldier. He could encourage her all he wanted, and yet it still wouldn’t ease her heartbreak once he had passed from this world. No amount of preparation would accomplish that impossible feat.
As they approached Blessing Hall, the sounds of the traditional Boxing Day Hunt filled her ears. Her father had promised not to participate this year. She had made him solemnly swear to her that previous evening that he would not take part. He had decided that he was on the mend ever since he had returned from London, but she wasn’t entirely convinced of that.
She quickened her step, worry pattering against her heart. “Miss Duffy, move your sticks that pass as legs a mite faster. You are being a real slow coach, and I want to arrive at Blessing Hall before the Hunt commences. Perhaps you should move your mouth less, and your legs more.”
“How can I move my legs faster when they feel like two frozen sticks? Besides, I shouldn’t worry about that, Fanny. They have done just fine without you sticking your perky little nose into it, since well…I should imagine since they started to run the blasted things, and as I have said time and again, they are no place for a respectable young lady like yourself. You need to relieve yourself of your hoydenish ways. You need to start acting like a lady all o
f the time—not just some of the time.”
She groaned loudly, and started to run toward Blessing Hall. A groom was rushing toward her. “My lady,” he gasped, stopping to catch his breath. “I’ve been sent to fetch you home. His Lordship has decided to go on the hunt, and he won’t be deterred. Mrs. Davies couldn’t even talk him out of it, and if he shall listen to anyone other than you, it is she. You haven’t much time. They are taking their mulled wine in the silver stirrup cups right now.”
“Oh, odds bodkins, I shan’t reach them in time,” she muttered. Lifting her skirts, she bolted into a run, leaving Miss Duffy alone to mutter to herself. “Have my horse readied for me as if I was riding on a Monday,” she called back to the groom. He gave her a startled look, and she slowed down and then stopped to turn and regard him.
“My lady, Grey isn’t a field hunter. He ain’t used to being on the hunt. He ain’t used to the noises. He don’t have the temperament for it. He ain’t brave enough and he don’t have the head for it. He might get nervous…he might…”
“Hush, now. Do as I say, Jamie. I will ride Grey because he is used to me, and I am used to him. And he is a brave and gentle soul. Pray, don’t ever forget that.”
“Oh, he is a good horse, my lady. He just ain’t good enough for going out on the hunt. You could take Lord Rascal. He wasn’t taken out on the hunt, he’s just champing at the bit, and he’s as courageous as they come.”
“There is a reason for that, Jamie. He is a large unruly beast, and far too big for me.”
“Are you certain, my lady?”
“Indeed, I am. Quickly, go now.” He nodded his head, and parted from her, heading straight for the stables. She bolted back into a run and made her way to the house, entering through a back entrance. Stamping the snow off her feet, she cleared her throat, and called for the servants.
Mrs. Davies arrived first. “I am sorry, my lady, but the huntsmen have departed, and your father went with them. There was no talking him out of it.”
“I guessed as much,” she said softly. “I shall go upstairs to dress. Please send my maid up to me directly. I might have need of her help.”
“Aye, my lady. What do you intend to do? Surely it would be best to wait for your father and the rest of the huntsmen to return?”
“No. I shall pursue them. I shan’t have my father take his last breath without me.”
Fear clutched at her being, as she considered the awful thought. Her father wasn’t thinking clearly. Didn’t he know that he could have one of his fits, and collapse while out hunting? Had he taken any of that into consideration? Of course, he hadn’t. He wasn’t used to having any sort of infirmity. For all of his life, up until now, he had been blessed with a hearty and hale constitution, and had been in her eyes, the strongest man she knew. And while he had recovered well since he had returned from London, she still feared for him. He hadn’t suffered one fit since he came back from Town, but still, he could have a relapse.
“I strongly advise against it, my lady,” Mrs. Davis said, struggling to catch up to her after she had sent a housemaid to fetch her lady’s maid.
“I thought you might, Mrs. Davies, but you needn’t fret,” she said, dashing up the steps as quickly as she was able. “I am an able horsewoman.”
“Aye, I know you are. However, your mother was never very keen on you going out on the hunt. It isn’t something a lady should do. She didn’t think it proper. She didn’t think it was the right atmosphere for someone of a delicate constitution.”
“Aye, my mother didn’t like the idea of women going on the hunt. However, even though my mother didn’t like it, my father has no qualms with it. He thought it was nonsense that ladies usually do not take part, but if I ride astride, I can control my horse just as a man can. If he was going to go on the hunt, he never should have left me behind. He knew I had the proper attire for the event—and he knew me quite capable.”
“Oh, aye. You are never short of the right clothes for the right situation, my lady. He purchased Lord Rascal for you to ride to one of the hunts years ago, and you never took a liking to that beast, and as I recall, you decided not to go out on the hunt. You cannot think to ride Grey out into the hunting fray. He isn’t the right sort of horse for that kind of an event. He scares far too easily. A few of our lady guests followed the hunt in their carriages, but then, they will keep to the roads and lanes, they dare not attempt to cross the country, and as for the ridiculous outfit you intend to wear—your father made you promise that you would never parade yourself in that sort of garb out in front of people—his peers, no less,” Mrs. Davies said, still close on her heels. “Upon my soul, I do not think it right for you to go traipsing out in such scandalous attire, for your father’s houseguests to see.”
“I shan’t be traipsing. I shall be riding Grey. As for my promise to my father—he broke his promise to me, so I shan’t feel a bit of guilt about breaking my promise to him. It is not as if I shall be walking about scantily clad. I shall be well covered, or do you think the breeches cling too much to my legs?”
“I…” Mrs. Davies couldn’t seem to think of a rebuttal to her last declaration. Epiphany stopped, having finally reached her destination.
“Unless you would like to assist me, Mrs. Davies, we must part ways now.”
Mrs. Davies hesitated, and sighed. “I shall allow you to do whatever you please, my lady. I could continue to prattle on endlessly, but I know that you shall only listen to the bits you think right to heed. That’s the way you’ve always been, and I don’t think you’ll change your spots now.”
“Indeed.” She smiled at the older woman. “You needn’t look so vexed, Mrs. Davies. All will be well.”
“That’s exactly what your father always says, and we all know how that usually turns out. I shan’t repeat what I have heard some call it. It isn’t fit for a lady’s ears.”
Epiphany laughed, “Oh, Mrs. Davies, you worry too much.”
“If I didn’t fret about you and your father…who will, now that your sainted mother is gone to the sweet hereafter, God rest her soul?”
“As I have heard some say before, Mrs. Davies, only the good die young. And I shan’t follow that road as I take great pains to be bad enough to warn death off, and Papa has said in the past that he is no saint, only a blessing.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she knew she had to escape the woman before she started to cry in front of her. Her father wasn’t exactly in his prime, but he wasn’t nearly old enough to go and meet his maker.
She gave Mrs. Davies a weak smile, opened her bedchamber door, and gently shut it in the older woman’s face. She meant well, she really did, and she was right. Epiphany would do whatever she wanted to do. No matter what anyone said to the contrary.
Now, where was her maid?
*****
“Oh, my you do look smart, my lady. I never thought I would say that about a lady wearing breeches.”
“Thank you, Kelly,” she said, turning away from the mirror.
From a distance, anyone would think she was just another huntsmen, except she wore black instead of scarlet. She had pinned her long golden hair up under her hunt cap.
“I must away. I have let too much time slip away as it is.”
“You have moved faster than most ladies would. I agree with Mrs. Davies, I think you should bide your time, and wait here until your father returns.”
Turning away from her maid, she walked briskly to the door, intent upon finding her father before he did something incredibly harebrained.
Chapter Two
Felix ‘Tiny’ Grey, Baron Spaulding was late, even though he was arriving on the agreed upon date.
He had woken late, and gotten a tardy start. Lucky had intended to accompany him and he’d tried to rouse him, only to be met with Lucky muttering something about how he wasn’t in the Army anymore and he was still too tired to get out of bed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the gent had ended it with, bugger off, you gigantic Geordie bastard. Whenever Lucky resorted
to calling him Geordie in that tone, he knew it was time to leave the bloke alone.
So, Felix left without him, leaving instructions with the house staff, as no one else had been up and about either. He had asked that they send his trunk on to Blessing Hall as he couldn’t be bothered to wait for a carriage to be readied. He was used to traveling light, and his time spent attempting to be a proper British Lord was hampering that Spartan lifestyle just a wee bit.
He was alone for the first time in a long time. He had gotten used to having his mates around him, and being a lone wolf again didn’t seem to settle well with him. As his horse trotted through the light snow, and rode down the slippery roads, he wished that he had Lucky by his side, if only to banter with. That way he would remain more alert. He should have had three cups of coffee instead of two, and eaten more. He hadn’t wanted to ride on a full stomach, and now his stomach was growling almost as loudly as the wind howled, and he felt a little sleepy.
All of their other close mates, save for him and Lucky had found themselves with wives, and soon, he would have one too. He still didn’t know how to feel about it.
Inwardly, he rebelled against it, and his insides screamed out whenever he thought about it. He had vowed never to take a wife. How could he be a suitable husband to the daughter of an earl of all things? She would disdain him. There was the possibility that she would look down her nose at him. He wasn’t nearly as educated or as accomplished as she was, and he could never hope to be.
The Army had taught him many things—and Colonel Blessing had furthered his education in ways that he hadn’t expected—he had taught him how to be his own man. When Blessing had selected him from the rest of his men to come and be his manservant, he had asked those who knew how to read and write to step forward. He had been the only one to step forward. He had known how to write read and write before he entered the Army, thanks to the vicar from his local parish, who taught school to the poorer children of his village during the week.
His Blessed Epiphany (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 9) Page 1
