by Sarah Thorn
''Are you alright?'' her father asked, as Emily's complexion turned white.
''In the prison with your father was a vicar by the name of Peter Wright. He too got into trouble financially, and they ended up in the same cell.'' The Bishop stopped speaking when the cook arrived with the tea. She placed a cup and saucer in front of each of them and the tea pot close to Emily. ''I visited Reverend Wright very often,'' the Bishop continued, ''and in the process got to know your father. It came to my attention via the church organization that Mr. Dirsken was trying to secure your father's release. I met Mr. Dirksen on two occasions. We talked about the best way to go about getting your father and Revered Wright freed.''
Emily was struggling to keep up with developments. Edward had done all this, and he'd never told her, even when they'd spoken at the last ball. Why hadn't he said something?
''During one of my visits, Reverend Wright told me your father had been badly beaten by some men who came to the prison. The same men who had stolen all your father's money, his former accountants.''
Emily looked at her father who nodded.
''Unfortunately, these men also threatened your life, Emily.''
''What?'' Emily gasped. She was about to pour the tea but stopped as her hands began to tremble.
''They told your father that if he talked to the police about them, they would harm you.'' The Bishop stroked his sideburns and fiddled with a large ring on his little finger. ''Those same men turned up at the Duke of Marlborough's ball last year. Luckily I was able to warn Mr. Dirksen, and he threw them off your track by telling them that you weren't Emily Lucas.''
''He told them I was just a woman from a local village and that he barely knew me,'' Emily said, completing the Bishop's story. ''I need to go out now. Will you come with me?'' she asked.
''To where,'' her father asked.
''To Cobham Hall.''
*****
Emily jumped out of the coach before it had come to a halt and ran to the door. The door knocker shook on its base as she hammered with it. The butler looked startled when Emily ran past him without saying anything. ''Edward, Edward,'' she shouted frantically running from room to room.
''Mr. Edward is outside in the garden,'' the butler pointed out.
She ran to the back door and out into the garden. Again she shouted his name. Edward stopped reading the newspaper and looked across the terrace. When he saw Emily, he jumped to his feet. ''I'm here.''
''Oh, Edward,'' she shouted as she ran to him. ''Edward, I'm so sorry, I have been terrible to you. Please forgive me. You must take me back. I don't want to live without you.'' She reached him and flung her arms around his neck.
''Calm yourself, Emily,'' he said.
''But how can I be calm after what I have done to you. I am a terrible person.''
''No, you are not. You are an adorable woman who I love very much, but thought I'd lost.''
''Will you ever forgive me? The Bishop and my father have told me how hard you have been working to secure my father's release. I will be forever in your debt.''
''The last time I spoke to you, you were engaged to another man,'' he reminded her.
''I want you, not him. The engagements off, as of this moment.''
He kissed her. ''In that case, why not get engaged to me instead?''
''Yes, yes, oh yes please,'' Emily said, ecstatically.
''Mr. Dirksen, thank you for all you have done to secure my release, I will be forever in your debt,'' Emily's father said when he and the Bishop had caught up.
''Not at all, sir. I am pleased you are now a free man.''
''But how exactly did you secure his release?'' Emily said still slightly confused. ''My father was convicted by a court, how did you get the decision reversed?''
''That was easy. You remember your father built a large extension onto this house?'' Emily nodded. ''I still have all the paperwork including a letter from Mr. Benjamin Harvie the accountant that your father employed at the time,'' Edward spoke slowly and deliberately. ''In the letter, Mr. Harvie informed me that I should pay the invoice for the work done into a different bank account than the one I had originally been given. As the letter was from a firm of professional accountants working on behalf of your father, I duly did as he requested.''
''And?'' Emily interrupted eagerly.
''It was a very large amount, I believe it was the largest job your father had ever done.'' Emily's father nodded. ''When I heard what had happened to your father, I went to the authorities and told them how much I had paid and asked them to investigate.'' Edward looked to see if Emily was still following. She was nodding keenly so he continued. ''They found that the account was in the name of Mr. Harvie himself, not his company. They also had no record of Mr. Harvie ever having declared this amount, and many other amounts which had flowed into his account, to the taxman. Mr. Harvie was arrested for tax evasion two days ago, and your father duly released.''
Emily sighed with relief. ''I have just one more question,'' she said. ''You didn't know about my father's plight until I told you, is that correct?'' Edward nodded. ''Then in effect, you did this for me.''
''I suppose so. But don't tell your father,'' he said with a grin.
''I love you, Edward Dirksen.'' Emily said.
*****
THE END
REGENCY Romance - A Duchess in Disguise
''But how could he have done that to us?'' Lord William Thurlington exclaimed.
''I have no idea. I believe he was very depressed after mother's death.''
''But Francis, that's no excuse. Father's stupidity has left us destitute.''
William was a young man, just twenty-one years old. His elder brother, Francis, had inherited the title 'Duke of Thurlington' after the death of their father, two months earlier. Their father, Jonathon, was a kind, jovial character. His tenants loved him and his wife, Helena, the beautiful daughter of a French aristocrat. Helena died in Johnathon's arms after falling from her horse while they were out riding on their estate. Johnathon never recovered, and fell into a deep depression that no doctor was able to cure him of. He took solace at the card table, and slowly began to lose all the cash he had. It wasn't until Jonathon died that Francis was told of the situation. He remembered the solicitors words very well. ''There is no more cash in the bank accounts, your father has gambled it all away.''
''We have no money, that's true, but we do have the estate,'' Francis pointed out.
''But keeping an estate requires huge amounts of capital. It won't be long before we have to start selling pieces of land. And you know where that leads. In no time we'll have sold it all off, just to survive.''
William hadn't seen his brother since the funeral, and he was shocked to see how much he'd aged in such a short period of time. William was studying architecture at Oxford. His brother had asked him to come to the family home, Hamilton House, to explain to him that due to lack of funds William would have to cease his studies and find paid employment.
''It is, indeed, a very grave situation and I fear you are right William, we will have to start selling the land soon.''
''Yes, and when that's gone, this house will be sold, and we'll have nowhere to live.'' William loved Hamilton House. It was his childhood home, the only place in the world that made him feel comfortable and safe. The thought they may lose it one day was too much to bear.
The two brothers were sitting in the library at Hamilton Hall, a huge room with thousands of books on floor to ceiling shelves. William remembered, with affection, how he used to hide his mother's favorite books on the top shelf. Afraid of heights, she used to plead with him to climb the ladder and fetch them for her. When he did, she would clip his ear playfully, and tell him how much she loved him, despite his treachery.
''Maria, how nice to see you,'' William said, standing up to greet his sister- in-law.
''William, my favorite brother-in-law, it's very nice to see you too. How are you?''
Maria sat down next to her husband and put her
hands on her lap. William liked her very much. She was the kind of woman he hoped to marry one day. She was beautiful, kind, and loving, and he knew she was very good to her brother.
''We're just discussing the crisis,'' Francis told his wife.
''Yes, it's very difficult. You shouldn't have married me, Francis. You should have married a much richer woman.'' Maria said it in jest, but Francis totally besotted by his wife, thought it a very grave statement indeed.
''What is money compared to you?'' Francis said. His wife smiled and took his hand.
''Then it is down to me,'' William concluded. The others looked at him, wondering quite what he meant. ''I will have to marry a very rich woman. When a woman marries, her fortune becomes her husband's. That is the answer to our woes.''
Maria cast her eye over William. He was fresh-faced with slightly red cheeks and more handsome than her husband. William had inherited his mother's fine facial features and dark hair. He was tall and athletic and loved horse riding and hunting.
''It would be a solution, that's true. But there are an awful lot of nouveau riche these days. People have made vast fortunes in trade, but most of them don't have any kind of breeding'' Maria nodded in agreement while William waited for Francis to finish. ''In fact, a lot of them are quite uncouth. If you are to find a rich wife, make sure she is one of us, a well-bred aristocrat.''
''I will try my best,'' William promised.
Maria was suddenly very excited at the prospect of a new sister-in-law. ''I know, I will organize a ball. We'll invite a lot of eligible ladies and William can take his pick.'' She beamed at the two brothers, who smiled back approvingly.
*****
Fred threw the last sack from the boat onto the quay and looked across at his colleague. ''I would give my right hand for a glimpse of her naked,'' he said. Fred was a laborer, as rough and ready as any Englishman, but ferociously faithful to his employer, Jeffrey Longhurst. Fred's sole task in life was to unload ships. Jeffrey was fast becoming one of England's richest men by importing merchandise, spices, tobacco, tea and coffee, from all corners of the globe to a domestic market hungry to consume.
Philip, Fred's unloading partner, slapped Fred on the back. ''You'll just have to keep dreaming, the chances of you ever seeing her without clothes are less than nil.''
''But just imagine it. Imagine her standing naked in front of you, begging you to take her.''
Philip burst out laughing. After a few seconds, there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Fred scowled at him. ''Sorry,'' Philip said when he'd recovered his composure. ''It's just the thought of you and her together.'' He burst out laughing again.
Fred and Philip had spent the last two days unloading a ship called Morning Cloud. It had arrived from India with hundreds of sacks of spices, and each one had to be thrown up to the quay. To relieve the boredom, Fred had started to fantasize about Jeffrey's daughter, Megan. He was in love with her, but he knew he didn't stand a chance. She was the most beautiful woman in the country, and she would certainly never look at a stocky, muscle-bound, dock worker. The problem was, Megan spent most of her time at the harbor. She loved the sea air, and the hustle and bustle, as ships came and went. To Fred, she was walking perfection, but he often wished she would stay away so he could concentrate on his work. She would stand on the quay and count the sacks as they were unloaded. Fred, below in the ship, longed for the day when a gust of wind would lift her dress and give him a glimpse of what he so badly wanted.
''Good job, men,'' Jeffrey said as Fred and Philip climbed from the ship onto the quay. ''Here's a bit extra, go and have a drink on me,'' he said, giving each a few coins. They both thanked him and disappeared to the Steam Packet Inn, a rough place, where dockers drank and fought.
Jeffrey walked back to his office, a red brick building on the sea front. Inside, Megan was sitting at her desk reading a book.
''I would like to talk to you,'' he said.
Megan closed her book and looked up. ''What about?''
He sat down on the edge of her desk. ''About marriage.''
''I don't want to marry. I'm perfectly happy. My life is this: the quay, the ships, the business, and, of course, my horses. I don't want to marry.''
''But you are twenty-two, I don't want to see you on the shelf.''
''I know all too well what you want,'' she said. ''You're a social climber. You won't be happy until I marry the King of England.''
''What is wrong with wanting the best for my daughter?''
''Nothing. But all you want is to gain access to the aristocracy. Can't you be satisfied with your life as it is? You are rich beyond belief, and you have a loving daughter. Why isn't that enough?''
''As I said, I only want the best for you. The best people in this country have pedigree, impeccable breeding, and those people belong to the aristocracy. With my money and connections, I can surely find you a good......''
''Husband,'' she interrupted. ''You're a snob, father. You've got a chip on your shoulder just because you come from a middle-class family. Why on earth do you want to mix with the upper echelons of society?''
''Because I do.''
''That's not an answer. Anyway, I'm very happy working here, with you, I don't need a husband.''
*****
''Do I look nice?'' Megan asked.
''You look lovely,'' Emily answered.
Jeffrey and Megan lived in a large house in Bristol, one of England's main ports. Jeffrey had enough money to employ an army of servants, but as a keen businessman, he was careful with money and kept the number of staff to a minimum. Megan had a lady's maid, and he employed a cook and a butler. Emily was just two years older than Megan. She was a local woman with a lovely Bristol accent and a fine sense of humor. Megan found she could confide in Emily, and poor Emily often found herself hearing things she didn't want to.
''My father is simply terrible,'' Megan said, as Emily put the finishing touches to her hair.
''What makes you say that?'' Emily asked.
''For sending me to this awful ball.''
''I'm sure you'll enjoy it once you're there.''
''But I'll be there under false pretenses.''
''Why?'' Emily had no idea why Megan would go anywhere under a false pretense.
''Because my father is desperate to have me married off to an upper-class gentleman. It is he who wants access to the aristocracy, not me. He's using me as a pawn in his game.''
''I'm sure he means well, though. Your father loves you; I think he only wants the best for you.''
''That's what he says, but I don't believe him. Take this evening for example. My father has a friend, who happens to know someone called the Duke of Thurlington, and he happens to be having a ball.'' Megan clasped her hands together in frustration. ''At my father's request, his friend got me an invitation but only after telling them I'm the goddaughter of some Earl or other. The whole thing is a charade.''
''Yes, it does seem odd,'' Emily said before becoming more optimistic. ''But perhaps you will fall in love with a handsome man.''
''Emily, how many times have I told you, I don't want to marry?''
''Many, Miss, but I don't believe you.'' Megan looked in the mirror at Emily, who had a slight grin on her face.
''I'm a fool. I seem incapable of refusing anything my father asks me to do.''
''There, finished,'' Emily said. ''Stand up and let me have a look at you.'' Megan got up from the dressing table and stood in front of Emily. ''Oh miss, you are simply the most beautiful woman alive.''
''Emily,'' Megan's tone was one of embarrassment, ''don't say things that aren't true.''
''I think it is true,'' Emily replied defiantly. Emily was in awe of her mistress. She knew Megan could attract any man she wanted to, with ease. As a local woman, she'd heard many men talking about the vulgar things they would like to do to Megan. It was idle talk, fueled solely by the fact Megan was stunningly beautiful. Megan had high cheek bones and emerald green eyes. She had perfect skin, long slender
legs, and a tiny waist which showed off her ample bosom to perfection. Emily always enjoyed arranging Megan's golden hair, and that evening she'd turned out a masterpiece.
''Mother's dress does fit me well, doesn't it?'' Megan observed.
''Yes, it is a perfect fit.''
''I never knew her, and wearing this dress makes me feel close to her in some way.''
''That makes perfect sense.'' Emily knew the story; Jeffrey had told her on the day she began working for him. Megan's mother died shortly after giving birth to her. Jeffrey told Emily that at least Megan's' mother had had some time with her daughter before she'd slipped away. Emily felt tearful every time she thought about it.
*****
''Mr. and Mrs. Michael Dredge, and Miss Megan Longhurst'' the announcer shouted. Nobody looked up. The announcer had been shouting out people's names for half an hour, and all the most important people had already arrived.
''Megan, don't forget, the only reason you're here is because I lied about who you are,'' Michael said.
''And how did you get an invitation to such a prestigious ball?'' Megan asked.
''I knew the Duke's father. I did a lot of construction work for him a few years ago. Your father asked me to get you into the ball when he heard about it. He knew I had some kind of connection to the Duke. All I had to do was mention that I was bringing a beautiful, eligible, young lady with me.'' He looked down his long nose at her, ''But don't forget, if anyone asks, you're the goddaughter of the Earl of Wells.''
''A ridiculous charade, if I may say so.''
''I'm only doing what your father requested,'' he complained.
Mr. and Mrs. Dredge were Jeffrey's best friends. People of the same class, with the same enthusiasm for business.
''May I ask you to introduce us?'' a man asked Michael.
''Er....yes....of course. May I present Miss Megan Longhurst, Megan this is Lord William Thurlington.
William had seen Megan from the other side of the room and instantly decided he wanted to meet her. Megan curtsied, and he bowed.
''It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Longhurst,'' William said. ''If I may say so I have never seen anyone as charming.''
