The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia

by Raven McAllan

  ‘Bert won’t. He wants to catch fish, not see them hide.’

  They held on to each other, and the sides, while Bert navigated the boat across the choppy estuary and into the far channel, before he brought the vessel alongside the docks. He tied up and climbed nimbly up a ladder to help first Lydia and then Harry scramble up onto the dockside.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you, sir,’ he said as Harry and Lydia hurried to the relative safety of the long, windowless side of the dockyard offices. ‘Right here.’

  Harry nodded. ‘As soon as we can get him here, we – or rather I – will be back.’

  Lydia sighed, very elaborately. ‘Spoilsport – I so want to hit him.’

  Bert let out a crack of laughter as Harry shook his head. ‘As I said, my bloodthirsty wench, I prefer you safe. I’ll hit him on your behalf.’

  ****

  ‘Hmm. Very well – that is fair enough.’ She skipped, rolled her eyes, and laughed. ‘I do hope you aren’t expecting a conventional wife.’

  ‘Never. I want you, just as you are.’ They entered the building and Williams hurried to greet them and to show Lydia the room where she should wait.

  She circled the room she’d been ushered into and smiled her thanks to Williams. It was not overly large, with a tiny, net-covered window overlooking the entrance and a comfortable chair in which to sit. She looked around, at the bedraggled flowers in a vase, the jug of ale, another of water, and the plate of marchpane, and smiled her thanks. ‘Mr Williams, you have done me proud. I will be happy to sit in here.’ She lowered her bow and arrow bag to the floor and sat in the faded, chintz-covered chair. ‘Go forth and do your jobs. I will eat, drink, and read my novel.’ She took the book out of her reticule and opened it. ‘Oh, and listen at the door at the denouement.’

  Harry laughed. ‘It seems we are dismissed, Williams. Shall we go and set the scene?’ He kissed Lydia briefly but with passion and followed Williams out. Lydia looked at his retreating back thoughtfully, and settled down, ready for a long wait.

  She might have dozed for she was sated, did indeed ache everywhere, and was incredibly happy. Soon she would be everything she had thought she didn’t want, and was so very excited and pleased about it.

  To accept that a man – oh, and what a man – wanted her, Lydia Field, as she was, was something so precious she still imagined she might need to pinch herself to discover if she were dreaming or not.

  In that slumberous place between awake and asleep it took several seconds for her to realise she could hear the sound of the church clock striking the hour and carriage wheels on the cobbles outside. She yawned, stretched, and stood up, then walked across to the tiny window and peered through the nets. A tall, angular man with a hooked nose got out of a hackney and walked towards the building.

  Lydia frowned. She’d never seen him before. Were all their theories wrong, and the person they wanted to apprehend not anyone they knew? Was Jeremy was innocent of this, if not of everything. Somehow that didn’t sit well with her. She bit her lip and wondered what was going on and what she was supposed to do, if anything.

  Her mind was made up for her.

  A creak of wood made her turn around and blink as a door opened. Not the door she had entered by. This one was narrow, set in a corner, and she’d never noticed it before.

  ‘I might have guessed you’d be involved,’ a petulant voice said. ‘What on earth are you doing here? You need to be in London getting ready for our wedding.’

  Lydia stared at Jeremy Mumford and wondered if she was hallucinating. Did lack of sleep and long, languorous lovemaking do that to one? How best to react?

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir, who are you?’ There, that sounded good, and showed he was nothing to her.

  He scowled and clenched his hands into fists. ‘Do not come that with me; you know your papa said we are to be wed. Why are you here?’ His voice rose. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘What a load of farridaddle you talk. I know he did not.’ She was too incensed to be careful before she spoke. ‘You are an idiot.’

  He took three steps towards her, grabbed her arm, and began to drag her across the floor towards the door he’d entered by.

  For a slender man he was surprisingly strong, and even though she dug her heels into the floor it made no difference. Lydia found herself sliding over the wooden boards behind him.

  Was it worth shouting? Raised voices and the sound of a scuffle next door decided it for her. No. Instead she’d see what she could do and what was going on. It was a pity she wasn’t close enough to seize her bow and arrow, but she did manage to grasp hold of the ties on her reticule. At least she had a novel in it; it was heavy, and surely sufficient to inflict a sharp pain if she put enough strength behind the blow.

  ‘You should have waited for me,’ Jeremy muttered as he held her tightly and edged through the door and, to her surprise, into a tiny room, not much bigger than a cupboard, and then through another entrance. ‘I won’t let you marry Harry. Why are you here? Do you want your family ruined?’

  Lydia ignored him as she thought furiously what to do. They emerged into a tiny alleyway not much wider than his shoulders and he nudged her in front of him. She tripped and he kicked her feet from under her to hold her a few inches off the ground. Sadly, there wasn’t enough space to use her legs to inflict damage on him. The tiny contact she made with his shin wouldn’t have hurt a fly and he seemed not to even know it had occurred. Her feet touched the dusty ground again and her toes scuffed the dirt. At least if anyone ever chose to look wherever they were, it would be obvious someone had been dragged along the alley. She began to regret her decision not to shout for help.

  Stupid, independent, idiotic…

  ‘Just walk, my dearest, then once we arrive we can discuss our nuptials.’ Jeremy pushed her relentlessly on, holding her in such a way she couldn’t get any purchase on her reticule, or anything else.

  ‘You’re hurting me.’ Lydia did her best to sound in pain. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘You wouldn’t agree immediately to wed me. I need you and your dowry. Your papa agrees. So we do it this way.’ He sounded gleeful and, she realised, not at all crazy, but sane and with a purpose.

  ‘Rubbish,’ she burst out as they emerged onto a track alongside the estuary. ‘My papa has more sense. Listen to the lies you are spouting.’ Should she mention Harry? Perhaps not.

  ‘You are wrong.’ Jeremy veered towards a low boathouse, put his hand on her head, and his knee into her back. Lydia stumbled through the doorway and ended up on her knees. ‘I told you, he had no option but to agree, or I would ruin him. And now we have, or so he thinks, been intimate, he is only too pleased to agree.’

  ‘This is the way you treat the woman you want as your wife?’ she said scornfully, and did her best to ignore the way her heart thumped and her senses skittered in alarm. Maybe she should have called out when he’d appeared in the room? But then, if Harry and Williams had been involved in some sort of a scuffle, it could have proved fatal. No, it was best to rely on her wits for now. ‘Some gentleman you are.’

  He scowled, and looked once more like the sulky schoolboy she had seen all those months earlier. ‘Well, it’s your fault. You and Harry. If you’d both just listened, none of this would have been necessary. I want my money and I want you.’

  Any remaining scraps of patience she had flew out of her mind. ‘No, you only want my money, and want must be your master, you immature idiot. For I do not want you, and you will get neither.’ She turned her back on him, looked around the dusty, gloomy interior, and wondered how on earth she was going to extract herself from her current situation. ‘You are a stupid man. You think everything should be given to you on a platter, and do you know what?’ She let her voice rise. ‘It should not. Grow up and act like a human being not a pathetic imitation. But be warned, I will not wed you.’

  His hand swung towards her and she ducked. Jeremy stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. ‘Why are yo
u behaving so? You are a gentlewoman, not a harridan. You almost made me hit you.’

  Harry will kill him and then me for being so idiotic. If he ever found them.

  ‘You did that, not me,’ Lydia said scornfully.

  ‘Well, anyway, I’m sorry, but you’ll need to stay here until I get the money I need, and then, well, we can start our life together.’

  What? Hadn’t he heard anything she’d said? Or did he just choose not to listen? Either way, she had no intention of questioning him. She shrugged and turned to stare at him silhouetted in the doorway. ‘Whatever,’ Lydia said scornfully, and then blinked. A shadow flitted behind him, followed by another one. One grimy hand waved briefly and disappeared. So, it seemed help of the young boy kind was at hand.

  She shrugged elegantly. ‘So you say. I choose to differ. Do what you will, and see.’

  ‘I intend to.’ He backed out, and the door closed, abruptly putting her into near darkness with only a cobwebbed covered window to let any light in.

  Lydia looked around as best she could. No boat, luckily. The shed wasn’t overly large and with a boat inside, even a small one, there would have been very little space left for her. A lot of water near the doors that presumably led to the river, and a saw horse in one corner. Nothing else.

  She looked at the lapping water and wondered just how far up inside it might come if she was there long enough. Presumably not as far as the saw horse. She picked her way through rubble and oddly shaped bits of wood across to it, and sat on the cross beam.

  ‘Miss.’ There was the sound of breaking glass and then a face appeared at the window. ‘It’s Fred and Bert. We’ll get you out in a trice. Just sit tight.’

  ‘I will.’ After all, there wasn’t much else she could do.

  ****

  Harry looked from Williams to their visitor and scowled. ‘Once more, if you please. You are here on behalf of who?’ He dusted his mucky jacket off as best he could. When the man, who grudgingly said he was Mr Gentry’s agent, had tried to run, both he and Williams had become involved in a scuffle. Harry was no worse for wear, other than a dirty jacket, scratched hessians, and a filthy temper. Poor Williams had come off less lightly and now sported the beginning of a black eye.

  ‘I told you, Mr Gentry sent me to make sure all was well. He’ll be here soon, but he never said there’d be two of you. Just a Mr Williams, he said, not some toff with a good right hook.’ He touched his jaw gingerly. ‘I ain’t sure it’s not broken.’

  ‘Be glad it’s only your jaw and not your neck,’ Harry said as he cracked his knuckles. The man blanched.

  ‘I only did as he said,’ the man whined. ‘And he still ain’t paid me.’

  ‘Do not hold your breath,’ Harry advised him. ‘Tell me, when is Mr, ah, Gentry due?’

  ‘Half past he said.’ The man sank into the chair. ‘I wants me money.’

  Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Five minutes. Very well, you and I will wait with Mr Williams until he appears. Sit there and do not say a word.’

  Williams handed Harry a glass of ale. ‘This might be needed. Do we stick to our plan?’

  Harry nodded. ‘I’m away to go behind the map.’ This was a large, free-standing affair with plenty of room for Harry to stand behind unnoticed. ‘You.’ He turned to the so-called agent. ‘If you so much as intimate I am here, your jaw will not be the only thing broken, I assure you. And there are a lot of bones to play with before I get to your neck. Understand?’

  The man looked as if he was about to pass out. ‘Ye… yes, sir… sorry, but…’

  ‘Enough.’ Someone knocked on the door. Harry moved swiftly to stand behind the map, and nodded at Williams, who cleared his throat.

  ‘Come in.’

  It was, Harry decided, the best thing to watch since he’d been to see a farce in the theatre in London. Jeremy entered.

  ‘I am Lord Birnham. Mr Gentry works for me. Where is my money?’

  Williams looked him up and down. ‘You have written proof?’

  ‘Of course. Look.’ Jeremy took a paper out of his pocket and handed it over. Through a handy crack in the map, Harry noticed Jeremy barely glanced at his so-called agent, and Harry wondered if he had even thought how ridiculous it sounded for an agent to have an agent. ‘Now, where is my bank draft?’

  ‘Well,’ Williams put the paper down. ‘I do not have one.’

  ‘Why not, man? I need it now.’

  Is he about to stamp his foot? Good God, the sooner I get rid of him the better.

  ‘If you think I will let this go by unnoticed you are sadly mistaken,’ Jeremy said angrily. ‘As Lord Birnham, I will not accept such behaviour.’

  Harry decided it was time to make his presence known. He stepped out from his hiding place behind Jeremy, who of course couldn’t see him. ‘You are almost correct, Jeremy. It is true Lord Birnham won’t. But it your – plain Mr Mumford’s – behaviour he won’t condone. It’s too late. It is known who I am.’

  Jeremy swung round, went white, and put his hand on the desk to steady himself. ‘You? Why are you here? Did you abduct my betrothed and bring her to Devon?’

  ‘Your…?’ Let him drop himself into the mire.

  ‘You should congratulate me. Lady Lydia is now with me and will be my wife.’

  ‘You think so?’ Harry asked mildly.

  ‘I know so.’ ‘So there’ was inferred, even if not uttered. ‘And all I want is my money. I have to live like a somebody, not a nobody. You and Mama won’t let me have it so…’ He shrugged. ‘I got some this way.’

  ‘You stole it,’ Harry said flatly. ‘It is not yours to spend.’

  ‘Not yet, maybe, but that is really irrelevant,’ Jeremy said with such a note of certainty, Harry was taken aback. Had he really never noticed that avaricious streak in him?

  ‘It will be mine one day anyway, so why not use some now?’ Jeremy said sullenly. ‘You won’t miss it.’

  ‘It will only come to you – the entailed part – if I have no heirs,’ Harry pointed out in a remarkably level tone, considering his burgeoning temper.

  ‘But everyone says you won’t marry, so, once Lady Lydia and I have sons, it will be mine and theirs.’

  ‘And of course you’ll have her money as well. A wealthy man,’ said Harry emotionlessly. If he let his anger out there would be hell to pay. As much as he wanted Jeremy to be punished, killing him sadly wasn’t the answer.

  ‘Why not? Who else would you leave it to, anyway? There is no one. She is mine and I scooped the pot from the betting book. Although there was nowhere near as much money as I expected.’

  ‘Fancy that. It might have something to do with the way the book was worded.’ Harry had Stephen to thank for that. ‘Give that to your heirs if you ever get any.’ If that ever occurred, Harry imagined that the sons would have very little to inherit, given Jeremy’s propensity for spending it. ‘However, Jeremy… Lady Lydia is not for you. She is, not to put too fine a point on it, ready to marry me.’

  ‘No.’ Jeremy shook his head stubbornly. ‘How do you like the idea of being jilted, eh? She’s with me and you will never find her.’

  ‘Oh no I’m not.’ Lydia entered the room followed by Bert and Fred. ‘Foiled again, Jeremy.’

  She held her bow and arrow in her hand and pointed it towards him. ‘Please, my lord, may I practise my target shooting? Just one arrow?’

  ‘Argh.’ Jeremy threw the desk onto its side and dashed for the door. With a whoop of pure joy, Bert scrambled over the downed piece of furniture and followed.

  ‘Me dad’s outside, sirs – he’ll get ‘im.’

  ‘Dad, Dad, gis Miss Lydia a chance to stick him in the cock, eh?’ the lad shouted as he ran after Jeremy. ‘Go on, Dad, she’s got a bow and arrers.’

  Lydia burst out laughing as they all streamed out into the dockyard. ‘Bloodthirsty boy, I like him. Come on, Fred, let’s catch up.’ She took the smaller boy’s hand and grabbed Harry with her other one. ‘Let’s go and play hide
and seek, or the seek bit anyway. And oops…’ She let the arrow fly. ‘Oh dear, my hand slipped.’

  Jeremy yelped and pulled it out of his arse.

  ‘That man is another spoilsport,’ she grumbled, albeit with a twinkle in her eye. He could have left it for a while.’

  ‘Woman, you are… mine, and I love you. Are you all right?’ Harry asked in between gasping breaths as they all streamed down the docks like a pack of hounds. He was unfit. How on earth did Lydia not sound out of breath?

  ‘Of course I’m all right. Even if he put me in a boathouse,’ Lydia said huskily. ‘Bert and Fred rescued me and… ohh, look there.’

  Several yards ahead, Jeremy ran unheeding towards the water where, Harry noticed, a neat yacht was ready to sail. ‘The bastard has even got my boat waiting.’

  ‘Well, not for long,’ Lydia puffed. ‘Look.’

  A sturdy figure appeared from behind a shed and swirled a long oar in Jeremy’s direction. It thwacked across his shins and brought him down. Bert whooped again and jumped onto Jeremy’s back.

  Bert senior helped by placing one large foot on the man’s legs and turned to wait for the rest of them to catch up.

  ‘Easy,’ he said, not even slightly winded. ‘What a lightweight. Do I take ‘im now?’

  Harry drew air into his heaving lungs and hugged Lydia. ‘Best ask him which option he prefers, I suppose.’ He nudged Jeremy with his toe. ‘Roll over, you louse.’

  ‘Snake,’ Lydia muttered. ‘Reptilian, remember?’

  Harry’s lips twitched. ‘And that. Right, let him up.’ He stood alongside the others and waited for Jeremy to get to his feet. ‘You do know you have very few options open to you at this point, don’t you?’ he asked evenly.

  Jeremy pursed his lips, but eventually nodded. ‘I suppose I’m in your hands.’

  ‘Oh yes. And as much as Lady Lydia wanted to shoot you in the heart, Mr Pickles to drown you, and a lot of other people send you to prison, I have one more option.’