Married at Midnight: An Authentic Regency Romance

by Arabella Sheraton

  He stood up and took his leave. Dazed, Roxanne shook his hand. She sat back on the sofa as a hammer blow of shock descended upon her. She was pregnant? This was the most terrible news she had ever heard. She put her face in her hands and burst into tears.

  “My dear, don’t cry,” said Aunt Cecily who had entered the room as the doctor departed. “This is the most wonderful news.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Roxanne sobbed into the comfort of her aunt’s shoulder. “This is the worst thing that could have happened. This is not part of the bargain I made with Julian.”

  “Well, my dear,” said her aunt, while drying the flow of tears pouring down Roxanne’s cheeks. “It seems to me that since you have run away from Julian, you are not keeping to your side of the bargain anyway.”

  She held Roxanne away from her and looked into her niece’s watery eyes. “I get the impression you were not an unwilling participant in what is the most natural way for a woman to conceive a child.”

  Roxanne sniffed and shook her head.

  “He did not force you?”

  “Not at all,” Roxanne burst out. “If anything it was—”

  Her aunt smiled. “It was you? Your Julian sounds like an exceptionally attractive young man, and since you are married I don’t see why you should feel guilty about making love to a man you love and who no doubt loves you.”

  Roxanne shook her head, but Aunt Cecily burst out laughing.

  “Of course he loves you, and I’ll wager he is devastated because you have run off. I’ll also wager that this nonsense about not wanting his own children will soon dissipate once he knows he is to be a father.” She wagged an admonishing finger. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly who he is? I know he is a man of quality.”

  But Roxanne was adamant. She shook her head and put on a mutinous expression. “You don’t understand, Aunt Cecily. I have committed bigamy. I cannot tell Julian about Edgar, who even now may be tracking me. What would he think of me?”

  Aunt Cecily laughed. “Bigamy? Pooh!” She snapped her fingers. “That’s what I think of this Doyle creature. He will have a hard time proving any kind of case after I have told the magistrate how he came into my brother’s house under false pretenses and practically forced you into a marriage.” She patted her niece’s hand. “Julian won’t think any the worse of you. If anything, he’ll be ashamed of his own silly contract. How did the two of you even imagine there would be no attraction between you at some stage in this marriage?”

  “What shall I do, Aunt Cecily?”

  Her aunt raised her eyebrows. “Do? My dear Roxanne, you know what must be done. You must communicate with your Julian at once. He has the right to know about his child.”

  Roxanne opened her mouth to protest, but her aunt’s stern look silenced her.

  “He has a position in society I assume?”

  Roxanne nodded.

  “You are his wife, no matter the strange circumstances.”

  Roxanne nodded again, reluctantly.

  “He has a title and if you bear this man a son, it will be his legitimate heir. It is your bounden duty to inform him of this fact. It is also your duty to your child.”

  Roxanne did not reply and Aunt Cecily did not press her for further details. Telling her niece she had to write a letter to an old friend, she advised Roxanne to rest for an hour or two because, no doubt, Miss Skittering would be along sooner or later.

  Miss Skittering arrived after luncheon, barely able to contain her excitement. She clutched a book entitled The Travels of Marco Polo. Roxanne could hardly contain her laughter when she saw the volume.

  “Sybilla, why are you reading about Marco Polo?”

  Overcome by emotion, Miss Skittering gasped out her words as she held up the book for Roxanne’s inspection. “I have a strange premonition, dear Roxanne, a premonition that you will find your husband.”

  Roxanne hoped she did not look or sound as guilty as she felt. “What makes you say such a thing?”

  “Because,” breathed her friend, her eyes huge with expectation, “I believe that finding your Aunt Cecily was a sign of greater things to come. Second sight runs in my family. My grandmother on my father’s side was blessed with it.”

  Roxanne suppressed her laughter and nodded gravely. “I see.”

  Miss Skittering clutched her hand with a grip that belied her fragile appearance. “Do you see my dear? Do you really see? Was it Fate or Destiny or God’s hand that took us to the theatre that night you found your aunt?”

  “It was actually Mr. Clarkson,” Roxanne reminded her. “It was his idea to treat us to the performance.”

  Miss Skittering almost screeched in her excitement. “Yes! But he was only an instrument for a higher power, a greater force than us mere mortals.”

  “So you believe that by reading about Marco Polo in China we will somehow find my…er…missing husband?”

  Miss Skittering pressed the book to her chest, closed her eyes, and nodded while a blissful smile spread across her face. “Yes!”

  She tried to expound further on the subject of divine intervention in Roxanne’s affairs, but Aunt Cecily entered the room and gently persuaded Miss Skittering to join them the following day on a carriage drive into the country. Elated, Miss Skittering took her leave, amidst promises to read as much as she could on the subject of China and modern-day pirates.

  “I think, my dear,” said Aunt Cecily, “that your friend is completely bird-witted and should never be told anything in confidence.”

  Roxanne gave a rueful laugh. “I know, but she has been the kindest person to me. When I fainted in the street on the day I arrived in Bath, she somehow got help and we have been friends ever since.”

  Aunt Cecily sat down on the sofa next to Roxanne. “Your pregnancy need not become news for a while. You should think about what I have said regarding Julian. He needs to know he has a child.”

  Roxanne said nothing, but pulled at a loose thread on her sleeve.

  “I know that look by now!” Her aunt tapped her gently on the cheek. “I think we should leave the subject for a while so you have a chance to rest, relax, and regain your joie de vivre.”

  Roxanne looked up into her aunt’s kindly face. She indicated her stomach. “What will we say when . . .?”

  “You are not very far in your pregnancy, just a few weeks, Dr. Evans said. We’ll stick to your story, which is actually the truth. You are my niece, visiting while your husband is away on various pressing matters of business.” She winked. “Husbands are notoriously peculiar, my dear, so him being absent will not excite too much comment. There are many widows here so your lack of a husband will not be remarked upon.” Her lips twitched. “For goodness sake, Roxanne, why China?”

  Roxanne giggled. “I have no idea. It seemed far enough away to be no trouble to me.”

  Aunt Cecily began to giggle “And pirates?”

  Roxanne burst out laughing. “They seemed to be a convenient way of killing Julian off if I needed to do so!”

  The two women clung together and shrieked with mirth until tears ran down their cheeks.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Life changed for Roxanne in the twinkling of an eye. Being Lady Derwent’s niece was a far cry from being an impoverished nobody living in a hotel room. As a respected and established member of Bath society, what Lady Derwent said was accepted. No one would dream of questioning her word. Roxanne entered Bath society under the aegis of her aunt and, while people expressed a mild interest in Roxanne, no one sought to dig further for the truth behind her mysteriously absent husband. Aunt Cecily continued with her customary round of social events as she had always done, introducing Roxanne in the most natural way possible, as if she were a relative paying an extended visit to Bath.

  “For you see, my dear, if I were to become excessively excited about having found my long-lost niece, people would become curious and ask for details as to why you were long-lost in the first place. We must behave as if everything in our lives is quite n
ormal.”

  Roxanne did not argue. Living with her aunt was extremely comfortable. Lady Derwent owned a charming, beautifully furnished house in the best part of the town with a number of servants, her own carriage and horses, and a more than luxurious income.

  Lady Derwent confessed to her niece that finding her was the best thing in the world. “I’m also looking forward to becoming a great-aunt,” she said. “Great-Aunt Cecily sounds very well indeed.”

  Roxanne looked around at the numerous delicate ornaments, elegant furniture, pretty cushions, and beautiful curtains. The house was quiet, with only the canary tweeting to itself in a gilded cage in the corner. It was hard to imagine a grubby little mite rampaging through this orderly existence. Master Francis, although deemed the best-behaved child in England by his doting mama and his besotted nurse, had managed to destroy a few items in just one day while playing a rowdy game of “horsey” with Julian during their sojourn in London.

  “I have no wish to disrupt your cosy life, Aunt Cecily.”

  Aunt Cecily’s eyebrows rose. “Disrupt? What a thing to say.” She picked up her embroidery and untangled a knot in her thread. “You won’t disrupt it at all. I have no doubt that everything will be resolved sooner than you think and you will be reunited with your Julian in no time at all.”

  Roxanne said nothing. She did not doubt her aunt was overjoyed to have her as a companion, but wondered why Aunt Cecily kept on with the delusion she would go back to Julian.

  Several weeks passed and pleasant days they were, too. Roxanne found herself freshly outfitted by Aunt Cecily’s own dressmaker. Her new clothes were made a little roomier than before; Roxanne suspected her aunt had had a quiet word with the woman. Her friends gathered round with numerous invitations for social activities and, while Roxanne suspected she was mainly required as chaperone to Miss Skittering and Mr. Clarkson, she was grateful for the distractions.

  Going out and being busy kept her mind off Julian, the baby, and the decision she would have to make before long. During quiet moments late at night, she wondered about Julian and found herself unable to think of what to say to him. She was ashamed of her cowardice in running away. She felt more keenly, however, the shame of breaking her contract with him. She wondered what he would do. He had married her to secure his inheritance. Even if the marriage could be declared null and void, she would have to communicate with him, face him, and confess all.

  The idea of dissolving their marriage took root in her brain. What if she could somehow let him know he should have the marriage annulled in order for him to marry someone else? Roxanne no longer needed the money Julian would have paid her to maintain her part of the bargain because Aunt Cecily had made it quite clear that as her only heir, Roxanne and her child would want for nothing. Despite her aunt’s beliefs that she and Julian would be reunited, Roxanne knew she could make her home in Bath if she wished. Roxanne fell asleep for the first time believing she might just have solved Julian’s problems.

  When Miss Skittering proposed that several of her friends attend a masquerade in Sydney Gardens that weekend, Lady Derwent encouraged Roxanne to accept.

  “You cannot hide away forever, my dear,” she admonished her niece. “I notice how many social engagements you turn down because you prefer to sit moping about what you should or should not have done.”

  “Aunt, that’s not true,” Roxanne protested. “I do accept invitations. Only last week I went out three times to engagements.”

  “Yes, but you refused three as well,” was her aunt’s rejoinder. “I insist you attend what promises to be a spectacular evening.”

  Miss Skittering announced it was to be a fireworks evening, with all the visitors removing their masks and dominos once the last blaze of sparks descended from the sky. Roxanne had never been to Sydney Gardens, and when Miss Skittering went into a rapturous enumeration of the many charms and sights still awaiting her, Roxanne gave in and agreed to attend. Indeed, she felt rather excited at the idea of such novel entertainment, and when their group grew larger as Mr. Clarkson and Daniel added some guests of their own acquaintance, for some reason she felt more secure. By the time the evening arrived, their party stood at eleven with five ladies, including Roxanne, Miss Skittering and Miss Clarissa Gifford, and six gentlemen including Mr. Clarkson and Daniel. Roxanne was on nodding terms with everyone in their party and felt comfortable she would be able to converse with each person on a topic of interest to them.

  “Of course, we are not going to talk as much as explore and watch the fireworks,” whispered Miss Skittering, “so do not put yourself out unnecessarily, dear Roxanne. You just enjoy yourself.”

  The ladies had all decided not to wear loo masks, which covered only the upper half of their faces, but chose the full-length domino, a Venetian cloak in a variety of colours or designed to match their dresses. Roxanne still felt nervous out in public after her encounter with Edgar at Sophia’s ball, so she decided to take up her aunt’s offer of a beautiful green domino, which just happened to match perfectly with an evening gown of rose and pale green silk trimmed with lace. Miss Skittering, whose wardrobe had expanded in conjunction with the deepening of Mr. Clarkson’s affections, was magnificent in a kingfisher blue satin domino with an alluring hint of a matching evening dress beneath, trimmed with festoons of silk.

  After a light supper with Lady Derwent (who insisted she was far too old to go jaunting outdoors in the evening), the group set out for the gardens with every intention of enjoying themselves to the full. Miss Skittering, having informed the party that the gardens had been planned and laid out by the architect Harcourt Masters in 1795, enumerated the variety of famous attractions that lay before them. Apart from the beautiful verdant scenery, visitors had a choice of Merlin’s Grotto, the Hermit’s Cot, the replica of a ruined castle, waterfalls, and the famous Labyrinth, which apparently was nearly twice as large as that in the gardens of Hampton Court.

  The gardens were situated at the end of Great Pultney Street, with the entrance via the Sydney Hotel, in Sydney Place. It was just as Miss Skittering had described it: a variety of picturesque walkways leading off into the shrubberies with seating for the weary visitor or those who just wished to relax and enjoy the gardens. The hungry guests could partake of food and drink from stalls and refreshment boxes on either side of the Sydney Hotel. Orchestral music played the whole evening, lending an aura of magic to the place.

  Roxanne was enchanted and, for the first time in a long while, forgot her preoccupation with her predicament. She had an ally in Miss Clarissa Gifford, looking particularly enchanting in a peach domino, who also insisted on visiting all the attractions. Daniel proved a willing escort while the rest of the group decided to walk up to the pavilion in order to secure good places to watch the fireworks.

  Roxanne was not sure how she became separated from Daniel and Miss Gifford, but one minute they were next to her and the next they were not. They had been admiring Merlin’s Grotto, a grotto of “marvellous antique appearance,” said Miss Skittering, when Miss Gifford and Daniel went a short way along the path to admire a small waterfall. Roxanne, thinking the pair would appreciate a few moments alone to enjoy each other’s company, sat down on a nearby stone bench and stared, unseeing, at the grotto. A twig cracked behind her and then an arm whipped across her chest, dragging her off the bench and into the bushes.

  “Gotcha, me beauty!”

  Miss Gifford and Daniel returned to where they had left Roxanne, but when they did not see her, assumed she had already made her way to the pavilion. They hurried to catch up with the others and encountered Miss Skittering and Mr. Clarkson on their way to meet them. No one had seen Roxanne. Mr. Clarkson suggested to Daniel that in order to spare Roxanne any unwanted attention, he should escort Miss Gifford and Miss Skittering to rejoin the remainder of the party in the pavilion. Mr. Clarkson said he would look for Roxanne. The spinster refused to budge, declaring that it was her duty as a friend to assist in the search. Reluctantly, Daniel and Mis
s Gifford left Miss Skittering and Mr. Clarkson to search for Roxanne by themselves. Miss Skittering, for once correct in her premonitions, insisted they return to where the couple had last seen Roxanne. They arrived at the stone bench, but there was no sign of Roxanne. Miss Skittering knelt down next to the bench.

  “Wait!” she cried. “Here’s something.” She picked up a rose pink satin bow, one of several attached to the sleeves of Roxanne’s evening gown. Miss Skittering lifted her head and cried out, “They’ve got her!”

  “Sybi—I mean, Miss Skittering,” said Mr. Clarkson as he helped her to her feet. “Who has got her?”

  “The Chinese pirates!” hissed the distraught spinster.

  Mr. Clarkson suggested they return to Lady Derwent’s house and try to get to the bottom of Roxanne’s mysterious disappearance.

  When they arrived at Lady Derwent’s house, Cummings let them in, announcing the pair to her ladyship. Upon entering the drawing room, Miss Skittering and Mr. Clarkson saw two gentlemen in the room. One was a mousy-haired man with a pasty complexion and who, although dressed as a gentleman, somehow wore his clothes with an ill-fitting air, as if he did not belong in them. The other person was a fair-haired handsome man, dressed in the height of fashion. Dispensing with protocol, Miss Skittering made straight for him.

  “You must be Mr. Wilkins,” she cried, holding out her hand as she scurried up to him. “I feel certain you are my dear Roxanne’s husband. Thank heavens you have escaped the wicked Chinese pirates!”

  The fair-haired man took her hand and bowed over it correctly. “Er…yes,” he replied in a low voice, shooting a glance at Lady Derwent. “Yes…it was difficult, but I managed to evade my captors.”

  “Alas,” she said in a loud whisper, “those Oriental scoundrels must have snatched dear Roxanne in your place. What are we to do?”