Earl from India

by Oliver, Marina

  He sounded indignant.

  'Does she ever go to a masquerade?'

  Silas looked interested. This was one way of approaching Fanny he had not considered.

  'I wonder? But they would not be allowed to attend. All the riff raff go to these affairs.'

  'I have a friend who is giving a private one. Surely that would be allowed?'

  'That might answer, if we are all masked. I could talk to her there. But how can I contrive to be sure she attends?'

  'She doesn't know me. Will she be going to the Darnell ball tomorrow? I could manage an introduction and ask her.'

  'You could ask my cousin too. They go everywhere together.'

  Sir Humphrey shook his head.

  'I doubt she will speak to me, now she has refused my offer. Why are these wretched heiresses so difficult? I've tried four this Season, and while they have rejected me they have none of them accepted anyone else! I still have hopes one of them will repent, especially if they attract no other offers.'

  'They are all hoping for a Duke!'

  'That won't answer, there aren't enough to go round! I'm beginning to think I'll need to go to some benighted town like Harrogate or Bath and look for someone there.'

  'Well, we can at least fill our pockets tonight. Here's young Narraway looking for someone to play with.'

  *

  Early the following morning, before her aunt was up, Amanda slipped out of the house. She had waited until the butler was occupied in the breakfast parlour, and no one else was in the hall, and made her escape. She was wearing a simple gown and a drab cloak she had borrowed from Megan, with the hood pulled up as far as it would go. At the corner of the Square she hailed a hackney and directed the driver to the City. Gerard's offices were in Cheapside, and she looked about her with interest as they drove eastwards. She had never been to this part of London before, and was amazed at the amount of traffic, the noise and the raucous shouting, and the insults the drivers of the drays and hackneys exchanged with the men pushing handcarts laden with all sorts of goods. She assumed they were insults from the tone of voice, though she could understand barely a word. Lucien had explained that thieves and others had their own cant terms, but he had refused, laughing, to tell her any.

  She paid off the hackney outside the building where she knew from Fanny Gerard had his set of offices, and turned to enter. Now she was here her resolution was wavering. She was afraid he would be disgusted with her, but once more she told herself she had no alternative. Gulping, she found her way to the first floor, where Fanny had told her the offices were situated. There it was, a sign on a stout oak door, Holbeck Imports.

  Ought she to knock, or walk straight in? As she was hesitating a small man pushed past her and went through the door, which slammed heavily behind him. Amanda took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She was not sure what she had expected. There were a dozen or more desks where men she assumed were clerks were busy. No one glanced up at her. The man she had followed through the door was at the far end of the room, going through another door. Where could she find Gerard?

  Hesitantly she approached the nearest desk.

  'Excuse me, but I have come to see Mr Holbeck. Where do I go, please?'

  The man barely glanced at her.

  'Back there,' he muttered, and gestured with his pen.

  Back there was where the small man had gone. Amanda could see no other doors, so she walked as confidently as she could between the desks until she came to it, and pushed it open. Beyond was a short passageway, and doors on both sides. To her relief there were signs on each door, and the first she came to had Gerard's name on it. She knocked, but there was no response. She closed her eyes. What should she do if he were not here? She knocked again, more forcefully, and an irritated voice bade her enter.

  She pushed the door open and found herself in a large, panelled room with two desks. Gerard sat at one, staring at her in amazement, and the small man was just about to take a seat behind the other.

  'Amanda! Miss Escott! What are you doing here?' Gerard asked, rising to his feet and coming towards her.

  'I'll leave you, Mr Holbeck,' the small man said, and with a curious glance at Amanda, he left the room.

  Gerard took Amanda's arm and led her to a chair.

  'Come and sit down. What is it? Is there some problem? But you could have sent a servant.'

  Amanda, feeling her legs would not support her a moment longer, thankfully sank into the chair he pulled forward.

  'No, there's nothing wrong,' she managed after a moment. 'I came – I came here, to ask you to marry me.'

  *

  Jenny Evans trudged along the lane. She was so weary she could barely put one foot in front of the other. It had been at dawn the previous day, thirty or more hours ago, that Bill, the village blacksmith, had come to beg her help his wife Catrin, who had been in labour since the previous evening. Bill was the biggest man for miles around, he'd won many fights at fairs, now he was crying unashamedly. The whole village knew how he doted on his pretty wife.

  'I don't know what I'll do if I lose her!'

  Jenny hurriedly climbed into her old gown and flung a shawl round her shoulders. It was May, but the mornings were chilly. She gathered some of the herbs she kept to make her potions and tried to keep pace with Bill as he strode towards the village. Catrin was a plump, healthy girl with wide hips. She ought not to have any problems birthing her child.

  It had been a struggle, the girl had been in labour for too long, and was desperately weak, but Jenny was an experienced midwife, and as the church clock struck six that evening she had put a small, but lustily bawling girl child into Catrin's arms.

  Jenny made her way back to her cottage. She was too tired to undress, or eat, and collapsed onto the wall bed where she had slept for the past few years, too stiff in her legs to climb up the loft ladder to where her bed used to be.

  She could not sleep. Exhausted though she was, her thoughts circled round her brain until she could have wept from frustration. It was seeing Bill and Catrin so delighted with their child, she decided. It made her think of her own child. Two children, really, for she'd been more than a wet nurse to young John, six months younger than her own Silas. It had devastated her when the old Earl had sent them both off to India. There hadn't even been time to say farewell. Earl William had explained it would mean prison if they didn't leave straight away. Now Silas was dead, and John had not bothered to come and see her.

  Mr Sopwith, the lawyer from Ludlow, had ridden out to tell her about Silas. She'd had a few letters in the early years, but she couldn't read them. The vicar had read them to her, and she then kept them, with some sprigs of lavender and rosemary, in a small wooden box Earl William had given her, saying it had been used by his wife to keep some of her jewels.

  Mr Sopwith had also explained that pensions were being provided for the remaining servants and herself. This was a relief. She was too old now to work in the fields and had to exist on the vegetables she could grow for herself and the occasional present such as Bill had given her that day.

  She hadn't been able to write to Silas, and though the vicar's wife had offered to write for her, she could not bring herself to let anyone else know what her feelings had been. They had, she knew now, been a mixture of love, of anguish at the parting, and anger that he had been so foolish as to get into trouble with the law. She had no doubt it had been Silas leading young John into trouble. It always had been. It may have been because he was the elder, but six months, when they were men of twenty, did not make a difference. Perhaps it had not been wise of Earl William to treat him like a lawfully begotten son, proud though she had been at the time to see him in his good clothes, talking and behaving like a gentleman.

  John had come to see the Priory, she knew. Mr Sopwith had told her it was to be sold, as there was no money left to keep it up, let alone do the necessary repairs. He might have called to see how she did. He'd been the more affectionate of the two when they were little boys,
until they grew too old and embarrassed to show such affection. He'd been there when Silas died, he could have told her about it, reassured her that Silas had not suffered. Perhaps he would come the next time he visited the Priory. She sighed, and on the thought fell asleep.

  *

  Gerard stared at Amanda, thinking he had heard incorrectly. Then he wondered how she had come to his office, who had come with her.

  'What did you say?' he managed.

  'Oh, please, don't make me say it again! It's too embarrassing.'

  'You want me to marry you? Is that it?'

  She nodded. 'I love you!'

  'But, my dear child, it's impossible! It would never do!'

  Amanda took a deep breath and got to her feet. She went to look out of the window, and spoke with her back to him.

  'I knew the moment I saw you,' she said softly. 'Gerard, do you love me? Do you have any feelings of affection towards me?'

  He wanted to go and put his arm round her shoulders, but knew it would be fatal. She would take it as encouragement, and whatever he did, he must not permit the slightest hint of his feelings for her to be visible.

  'Miss Escott – '

  She swung round to face him and stamped her foot.

  'Don't call me that, so cold and so formal!'

  'Very well, Amanda. People from your social class do not marry merchants. It is just not possible.

  'My Aunt Charlotte married a businessman, so it is possible.'

  She clearly thought that would banish his objections. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her naivety.

  'How old was she?'

  'What has that to do with it?'

  'How old was she? Eighteen, like you?'

  'She – she was one and twenty, but that's beside the point.'

  'So she was of age, old enough not to need her father's permission? Do you think your brother, or your aunt, whichever is your guardian, would agree to let you marry me, even should I wish to do so?'

  'Don't you wish to?'

  She sounded so bereft, and was struggling so valiantly not to cry, he had the utmost difficulty in staying where he was, safely behind his desk. For her sake he had to deny his feelings for her. He did love her, but from the first had tried to suppress it, since nothing could come of it.

  'No, Amanda,' he said. 'Now, tell me who came with you? Your maid? Megan, isn't it?'

  She swallowed and pulled a handkerchief from her reticule. Then, and he admired the courage she showed, she raised her chin.

  'I came in a hackney, on my own.'

  'Amanda!' This shocked him almost more than what she had come to say. 'Come, I'll escort you back to Berkeley Square. And we will say no more of this.'

  'You may not,' she said, 'but I will. I don't mean to give way at the first hurdle. I know you at least like me, Fanny has told me so, and soon I'll make you love me!'

  *

  Gerard refused to speak in the hackney while driving back to Berkeley Square, and eventually Amanda ceased demanding to be told whether he loved her or not. He hadn't touched her to assist her to climb into the hackney, nor did he help her alight. He had sat as far away as possible, and now he simply waited beside the hackney while, giving a shrug, she went towards the front door. She glanced back as the door was opened, to see him entering the hackney and it driving away.

  It was Banks, the butler, who opened the door, and Amanda sighed. He had known her all her life, and had no hesitation in demanding to know where she had been, and in those clothes too.

  'It's none of your concern,' she tried, but before he could reply she heard her aunt's voice and looked past Banks.

  Lady Charlotte was standing in the doorway to the breakfast room.

  'Come here, Amanda.'

  Her voice was colder than Amanda had ever known it, and she did not wait to see her order obeyed, but turned back into the room. Amanda sighed, shrugged off the cloak which Banks took from her, and walked with trembling limbs into the room. Her aunt rarely showed anger, but when she did she was formidable.

  'Shut the door, then come and sit down.'

  Amanda did so, and was unexpectedly glad to subside into a chair. It was all she could do to force back the tears that had been threatening since Gerard had refused her. She glanced up at her aunt, and surprised a sympathetic look in her eyes.

  'Have you had breakfast?'

  Amanda shook her head. She could not endure the thought of food. Lady Charlotte nodded, picked up a plate and spooned some ham and devilled eggs onto it. She placed it in front of Amanda, and ordered her to eat.

  Amanda obediently picked up her fork, but put it down again and began to weep, big silent tears that rolled down her cheeks and fell unheeded into her lap.

  'Well, child, what the devil have you been doing, going out alone like that and so early?'

  Her tone was softer, more sympathetic, and Amanda only wept harder. When her aunt's arms came round her she leant her head on Lady Charlotte's shoulder and sobbed even more.

  'That's enough,' Lady Charlotte said, and lifted Amanda's head to look into her face. 'Now tell me what's the matter. Have you been hurt?'

  'No,' Amanda managed, and sniffed. A handkerchief was thrust into her hand and she blew her nose, then looked at her aunt. 'He refused.'

  'Tell me. Who refused you what?'

  At the back of her mind Amanda knew she did not deserve this sympathy. She had behaved appallingly, but what other option had she had? She knew Gerard would never of his own volition make her an offer, so it had been up to her. He had rejected her, but she would not allow that to deter her. Suddenly she felt a new resolve. Perhaps Aunt Charlotte would help her.

  'I went to ask Gerard Holbeck to marry me,' she said abruptly. 'He won't. Aunt, when you married Uncle Jethro, did he offer for you, or did you make him?'

  Lady Charlotte closed her eyes and went to sit in a chair opposite.

  'It was different for me,' she said. 'No, wait. I was older, I had refused several very eligible offers, and my parents were at their wits' end to know what to do with me. They didn't give me permission, but I was of age, they could not stop us.' She laughed. 'Actually, I did propose to Jethro, but we had known for years we were in love. It isn't necessary to speak of it in order to know.'

  'I love Gerard, and I'm sure he loves me!'

  'You are very young, my dear, and have met few eligible men. Lucien would never give his permission.'

  'I've met none I want to marry. Aunt Charlotte, I am willing to wait, but will Gerard? If there are not hordes of daughters of merchants pursuing him, there will be before I am one and twenty.'

  'We must wait and see. Now child, it's the Darnell ball tonight, and you won't want to take that woebegone face there.'

  'I don't want to go.'

  'And let Fanny down? You promised her you'd be there. Her brother will be, too. You need to apologise, and try to behave normally, not sulk or throw sheep's eyes at him. Now, go back to bed and rest for the remainder of the day. You were going to wear that new apple green gown that suits you so well.'

  Aunt Charlotte was talking sense, and had not been furious with her. Maybe, after all, she would help.

  She would need to persuade her brother she was serious, she knew, and picked up her fork. Now she would plan. If Lucien could be brought to talk to Gerard, and they were, after all, old friends, she might obtain her wish.

  *

  It was easier than Amanda had feared. Someone had sent her a posy of blood-red roses, but the card was missing. Red roses usually signified love. Had they come from Gerard? Had they been some kind of apology, a peace offering? However, despite Aunt Charlotte's protests, Amanda insisted they were the most suitable in colour to go with her pale green gown, so Megan pinned them onto her shoulder. The material of the gown had been one the Holbecks had brought from India, two shades so closely interwoven which shimmered with a silvery gleam. Amanda had seen nothing else like it. Gerard would recognise it, though. The cut of the gown was such that it floated ar
ound her as she moved. Miss Pollock really was a marvellous dressmaker, and she had persuaded Amanda the material needed no embellishments such as flounces or ruffles or even lace.

  'They would distract attention,' she said, and Aunt Charlotte had agreed.

  Amanda rather liked lace on her gowns, but when she was dressed ready to go to the Darnells' house in Grosvenor Square she stood in front of her mirror, moving sinuously, and realised just how clever the dressmaker had been, The very simplicity of the gown with that unusual material would make it stand out.

  Fanny was already there when Amanda arrived, but so was her mother. Amanda frowned, and looked round for Gerard but he was not to be seen. If Mrs Holbeck accompanied Fanny Gerard was not usually present. Would she have to wait until some other occasion before she could see him again? She drew her friend away and spoke in a low voice.

  'Does this mean you will have to leave early, with your mother?'

  'No, Mama will go home, but Gerard has promised he will be here before midnight so that I can stay. He has extra business in the City, he went back to the office after dinner.'

  Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. Then she had to pay attention to her prospective partners. During the first waltz, when she was wishing she was dancing with Gerard rather than the young man who had been introduced to her at the previous Almack's night, she saw Fanny dancing with Sir Humphrey. He was much taller than her friend, and loomed over her as he talked while dancing. Fanny looked uncomfortable, leaning back and holding her head away from him. Had the man, after she had refused his offer, turned his attentions to Fanny? Amanda knew very little about him, but she wondered whether, having been refused by herself, he was paying court to another, even wealthier heiress.

  She was able to talk to Fanny when the dance finished. Her friend was looking pensive.

  'Amanda, have you ever been to a masquerade?'

  Amanda shook her head.

  'No. I'd love to go but Lucien would not permit it. He says only riff raff and courtesans attend.'

  'There are private ones which are more select. Sir Humphrey was telling me, and is suggesting making a party to attend one a friend of his is giving. I would like to go,' she said wistfully. 'I am tired of all these balls! They are all so similar and one meets the same people all the time. The only variations are in the refreshments and the decorations. They even hire the same musicians!'