by Sue Barr
“He rambles on for quite a bit, but at least his handwriting is legible.” Louisa stated with a small laugh. “Jane has been a good influence on him.”
“Yes, she has,” she agreed. “Don’t keep me in suspense, what does he write?”
Louisa settled her new reading spectacles on her nose and scanned the letter. Although she didn’t read the letter in its entirety, she spoke aloud the parts that Caroline would find pertinent.
“He states he and Jane have purchased an estate not ten miles from Darcy and Elizabeth.”
“That will make Elizabeth glad. I know how close she is to Jane.”
“Yes, and it will remove them from Mrs. Bennet. Let me continue. Charles writes that her interference in their daily lives has become unbearable – which we knew would happen – and with a baby on the way—” Louisa lowered the letter to her lap and stared at Caroline, slack jawed.
“A baby!” Caroline cried out with joy. “Oh, they will be so happy. When does the child arrive?”
“What? Oh...” Louisa picked the letter back up and began again. “...a baby on the way, and by the time we receive this letter, they will already be moved.” She glanced up at Caroline. “Mr. Darcy gave Charles sound advice there. He knew they’d want to sever ties with Longbourn and urged Charles not to buy the property in Hertfordshire.” She continued reading from the letter. “The babe is expected six months hence. Oh, poor Jane. She must be absolutely exhausted from the move.”
“I’m sure she was. When you were expecting Nicholas, you slept the whole day away at times.”
“There is much adjustment when you have a child. Your body changes in wonderful ways.”
Louisa gave her a knowing look and she felt her cheeks turn pink with heat.
“I won’t know anything about that for a while. There are still two weeks until our wedding.”
“Fortunately Jane can attend the ceremony as she will not be in confinement yet, and they live a scant five miles from Kympton.” Louisa removed her glasses. “I believe Mr. Hurst and I should look into buying property in Derbyshire. If the whole family is going to be there, it makes sense. I want Nicholas to grow up around family and Mr. Hurst’s new business venture with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner would run much smoother if we resided nearby.”
“There was a time Charles would gladly have banished us all to the Hebrides, but now, I’m sure he’d love for us all to be closer.”
“This year has been difficult, with Nathan’s uncle passing away, but the six months of mourning have passed and your wedding day is just around the corner.”
“Two more weeks. I can’t believe it is finally going to happen.”
Four weeks after Nathan proposed, his Uncle Moreland and his wife Millicent were killed in a carriage accident. As he was an uncle, the mourning period lasted for six months and not a full year. Naturally the wedding had been postponed and with Louisa so close to delivering, they agreed to wait until she no longer required Caroline’s help and set the date for late October.
The past few months, with Nathan so far away in Derbyshire, made her realize how much she truly loved him. Because he was in mourning, their social engagements had been strictly limited. They learned to enjoy small pleasures, such as family gatherings and of course, while at Pemberley, she faithfully attended Sunday service. Not once had she been bored and now all the hymns held special meaning.
The royal mail service noticed an increase in the amount of letters travelling between London and Derbyshire when she returned to Town. She’d gone from having no one to correspond with to spending a few hours each morning going through her letters and replying. Not only did she receive daily missives from Nathan, but letters from his mother, Georgiana, Elizabeth and Jane, and most surprisingly, Miss Braithwaite. The dear heart had practically adopted her as one of her own and sent her the most entertaining news of what was happening in Kympton.
Darcy graciously offered his home for family and friends as the ceremony was taking place in Kympton and the Archbishop himself declared he would make the journey to Derbyshire and officiate over the service.
Two weeks couldn’t come soon enough.
~~~ooo0ooo~~~
“I, Caroline Anastasia Bingley, take thee, Nathanial William Kerr, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
She waited in a heightened sense of euphoria and heard nothing more until the Archbishop uttered those long awaited words, “I pronounce they be man and wife together.” With her hand tucked safely in Nathan’s she floated through the closing prayers and the reading of the psalms and it was only when the pealing of the bells began as they exited the church, all of it came at her in a mad rush.
They were finally married!
Nathan lifted her into the festive carriage and this time she relished the flex and tightening of his muscles. He sat and quickly took her hand in his, removing the ivory glove and brought her fingers to his lips. Between kissing each knuckle he whispered. “I love you.”
“And I, you, Mr. Kerr.”
He cradled her face in his hands. “I’m truly sorry for this, Caroline, but you are now Lady Nathanial Kerr.”
She started laughing and the more she tried to stop, the harder she laughed. Nathan didn’t join in, as he knew not what she laughed about, but his handsome mouth tilted into a grin.
“What is so funny?” He waited until she stopped with a small hiccup.
“Dear husband. Never say God does not have a sense of humor. For years I strove to capture the interest of a Peer, any member of the ton, without success.” She caressed his face with an affectionate hand. “And fell in love with a vicar, so far from my hopes and dreams.”
She held a finger to those lips she loved so much when he would have spoken. “No, don’t say anything. I am content and filled with joy in this life and now that I don’t care, God deems fit to give me a title.”
He chuckled at her explanation and kissed her fully on the lips. Finally, he bid the driver take them away and they both turned and waved goodbye to the cheers and well wishes of friends and family.
She looked adoringly at her husband. How she treasured that word, husband.
“I love you Nathanial William Kerr, and I don’t care if we never entertain Society. I’m quite content with our cozy parsonage and your parishioners.”
“I’m glad you say that, my lovely, beautiful wife, but do you remember the letter I received from Max’s solicitor a few weeks ago, requesting that I visit the old curmudgeon in London?”
She nodded assent.
“He informed me as Uncle Moreland and Aunt Millicent had no children or other direct heirs, he bequeathed his estate to me. We’ve become land owners, not more than twenty miles from Kympton.”
“And you’re only telling me now?”
“Consider this my wedding gift to you.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
“You are trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?” She could feel him smile against her lips.
“Yes,” she sighed and let him kiss her again. Once he pulled back, she asked. “Shouldn’t the estate have gone to Max, or George?”
“No, he stipulated in his will I was to inherit. Max has Adborough Hall and George has land of his own, Keswick Manor, which was part of mother’s dowry.”
“Does this mean you will leave the church?”
“Yes, my darling, but not until Darcy finds a replacement.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “We will be expected to entertain guests, have copious amounts of children to carry on our legacy, and look after our own tenants as the estate is substantial. You will be the principal lady of the village. Are you prepared for that adventure?”
“I will face anything if you are with me.” Happy tears of joy pooled in her eyes and she reached fo
r her ivory reticule.
Nathan placed a hand over hers and stilled her movement. He reached inside his morning coat and brandished a newly embroidered linen handkerchief with C&N stitched on the corner above a tiny rose.
“I am ever your humble Steward of the Linen Cupboard, Lady Nathanial Kerr.”
The Love Chapter
Love has patience, love is kind, not jealous, love does not boast, it is not proud, it does not dishonor, it does not seek things for itself, it does not become angry, it does not charge evil to another, it does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices together in truth: it endures all things, it believes all things, it hopes all things, it is steadfast in all things. And whether prophecies be abolished: or tongues will cease: or knowledge will be abolished: love never perishes.
I Corinthians 13: 4-8
The End
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Would you like to read Chapter One of Katherine’s story? Pride & Prejudice continued... Book Two introduces us to Lord George Kerr.
KATHERINE
Chapter One
The elegant drawing room was quiet, save for the shuffling of papers and every now and then a soft, yet impatient sigh.
“Darling, as much as I love our trysts, I’m feeling a trifle neglected.”
The honeyed tones from the beauty, currently draped in a seductive manner on the settee, drifted across the room to where Lord George Kerr sat perusing a stack of documents. He lifted his gaze from the papers spread before him on the table and glanced toward the woman. He appreciated how the crimson brocade couch became a perfect foil for her exotic features and raven hair.
“Evangeline, you know our agreement. I attend your exquisite establishment and you whisk me away to your drawing room whereupon I gather information for King and Country.” He grinned at her sultry pout. “Now, be a pet and make some noise. Otherwise the servants will think I’m not a satisfactory lover.”
“If you only knew how envious my maids are of me. They remain convinced you are Casanova reincarnated. How they would laugh if they knew we only drink tea and talk.” She arose from the divan and glided behind his chair, combing her fingers through his hair, the scent of her perfume a heady aphrodisiac. “Could I not entice you, just this once?”
He stilled her hand and brought her palm to his lips. Pressing a kiss against her soft skin, he turned slightly to face her. There wasn’t much hidden beneath her dressing gown, but he’d trained himself not to give in to the obvious delights she offered.
“While I admire your tenacity, I cannot give what you ask. The only woman I will share a bed with will be my wife.”
“I did not say we had to be in a bed.”
“Evangeline,” George warned in a low voice.
“Very well,” she purred, turning aside with an elegant shrug of her slim shoulders. “I apologize for my forward behavior. I miss my husband too much, I think.”
“I know you do and that is why I trust you most implicitly.”
“And I, you,” she agreed with a heavy sigh.
George Kerr, the second son of a Duke, walked a fine line in Society. He’d carefully crafted a persona of a somewhat careless bachelor. The ton regarded him as a Rake of the first order, which suited his cover perfectly. He ensured he always had a beautiful woman on his arm, flirted with them in an outrageous manner – had even kissed a few of them quite passionately – and visited Evangeline’s home on Grosvenor Square on a regular basis to maintain his tarnished image as a libertine.
“I expect another shipment tomorrow.”
George raised his gaze from the documents and noticed Evangeline had returned to stand beside the settee.
“A shipment from where?”
“Calais. The package was to arrive today, but with the heavy fog, they were delayed.”
“Evangeline, your willingness to help is beyond compare. It hurts my heart for the ton to think of you as a widow with loose morals. Why not cast me off in public and reclaim your status in Society?”
“You know why. Until Cavendish is back on English soil, I will not rest. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure his safety. It has been over two years and the only time I know he is alive is when I see our mark on a document.”
George glanced down at one of the documents, noting what looked like a smudge in the bottom left corner, but if one knew where to look, they’d see an intricate, hand-drawn pattern.
Her gaze turned pensive as she studied a small portrait of her husband mounted on the wall. In 1808 Lord and Lady Anstruther had been part of a delegation dispatched to the north of Spain to see if it could be reinforced to prevent an invasion by Bonaparte. However, the Secretary of State of War, Viscount Castlereagh, needed them for a much higher purpose and after the Earl tragically ‘died’ in an ambush, both he and his wife slipped into France.
Lady Cavendish made her way to Calais, where George was dispatched to smuggle her back to England while the Earl remained in France. Once the Countess was safely situated in London, Lord Cavendish sent dispatches through her to George. At that moment, Evangeline stiffened.
“Someone is coming.” She moved swiftly to recline against the arm of the divan. Without questioning her instinct, which had proven itself time and time again, George laid his coat on top of the papers and joined her, positioning his rather large body so that his head rested on her soft lap. With his knee slightly bent, he placed his left foot on the couch and stretched the right leg to the floor. She glanced down at him, her exquisite features tight with concern.
“Prepare yourself, Lord Kerr. In order to facilitate our ruse, I must expose more than you would like.”
“I think I’ll survive,” he replied in a dry tone.
She slipped the filmy gown down one arm and it gracefully puddled against his cheek. When the door to her drawing room burst open, she looked up in faux surprise. Her ladies maid, Colleen, the only one who knew of their true connection, shivered within the door frame. Behind her stood two men with hardened faces and loaded pistols. It may have been the way the candles reflected against his features, but George thought the eyes of the smaller man widened when his gaze fell upon them.
“What is the meaning of this?” Evangeline demanded. She tugged the gown back onto her shoulder while George remained where he lay, a deceptive picture of languor and satisfied coitus.
“I’m sorry, m’Lady,” Colleen began.
“Be quiet, slut.” The larger man backhanded Colleen and she stumbled to one side. Still semi-reclined George slid his left hand down his leg toward his boot. Meanwhile, Evangeline arose in a state of agitation, which was a ruse. She intended to clutch the couch as though frightened and retrieve a hidden weapon strapped to the back of the divan.
He knew this because she’d done it to him in France.
“What do you want?” She stumbled against the divan and steadied herself by gripping the back of the couch. “Please don’t hurt me.”
While the men were distracted by her nervous display, George unsheathed the knife tucked inside his boot and palmed the deadly weapon in his hand. Colleen inched away from the two men who now advanced further into the room. While the larger man continued to watch them, the other glanced about the room, before heading toward the table.
“Make sure they don’t move, Bill. Shoot the prancing dandy first.” His tone was more cultured than most thugs for hire and a hint of familiarity tugged at the corner of George’s mind. He was now convinced the man knew him, but from where?
It was only through years of conditioning that he didn’t betray his concern the man would discover important papers beneath his coat. If he found the smuggled documents and escaped with the knowledge of his and Evangeline’s clandestine operation, then many courageous people die
d for nothing. He arose from the couch like a sleepy giant.
“Whad’ya want?” he slurred and weaved on his feet as though drunk. “You hafta find your own woman. I pay a lot of money for her favors.” He lurched toward the man called Bill, who gripped his pistol tighter.
“I am not a whore!” Evangeline screamed at George.
Her hysterics had the desired effect. At her shrill cry, Bill momentarily shifted his attention from George to her. Without hesitation, George whipped the knife and lodged it in the man’s heart. He halted and the gun clattered to the floor and his expression registered surprise as he glanced down. At first there was nothing to see but the hilt of the knife protruding from his chest, a dark red stain began to slowly spread across his dingy shirt. It only took seconds, but after looking up at George, he sank to his knees and crumpled to the floor.
At the sound of the gun hitting the floor, the other man turned. Before he even pointed his weapon, Evangeline had raised her arm and with deadly aim made sure he never breathed again. George eyeballed the bullet hole dead square in the assailant’s forehead.
“Remind me to never challenge you to a duel, Countess.”
She lowered her arm and cut him a sideways glance. “You are most fortunate I adore you Lord Kerr. Otherwise that may have been you on the floor after calling me a woman of ill repute.”
“A means to an end.” He took hold of her free hand and brought it to his lips, murmuring against her skin. “I am forever grateful you did not shoot me in France.”
“Bah, Cavendish was right. You are a terrible flirt.” She tugged her hand from his light grasp and signaled to Colleen. “Help us find out who these two Cretans are.”
~~~ooo0ooo~~~
“I’m afraid your cover has been compromised.” Lord Grayson clasped his hands on his desk and peered at George over his reading glasses. “You’re quite useless to us now.”
“I’d like to know who sent those men.”
George sat in the chair placed directly in front of Lord Grayson’s desk. His elbow rested on the armchair and he rhythmically rubbed his lower lip with his index finger. A childhood habit indicating he was deep in thought.
