Beached with a Baronet
Emily E K Murdoch
To Joshua, the best, brightest, and bravest supporter of my writing that I have ever known.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Catastrophe with a Count
HISTORICAL NOTE
About the Author
Acknowledgments
This was the series that I never thought I could publish, so first thanks must go to my amazing Kickstarter supporters! Thank you for your faith in me, and I hope you love this book as much as I do!
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Julia Underwood, who has given me unparalleled advice – any mistakes left are completely my own!
Thank you to my glorious cover designer, Samantha Holt, a true artist whose patience with me is much appreciated.
Thank you to my ingenious formatter, Falcon Storm, whose willingness to format whenever I drop an unexpected email is fantastic!
And to my family. Thank you.
1
With one eye closed, Chloe Vaughn could almost see the highest branch – but without knowing whether it was the highest, how could the correct height be calculated?
Sun was streaming down through the leaves and she tried her best to ignore it, and the mindless chatter around her. Assuming that the trunk’s perspective altered every ten feet, therefore, and taking into account the slope where she stood –
“Keep up Miss Vaughn, or you will be left behind!”
Chloe sighed. The berating yet kind voice of Lady Kathryn echoed throughout the trees, and her concentration immediately disappeared. Giving the tall oak one last look, she rolled her eyes, gathered the skirts of her gown in her hands, and took several large strides to draw level to the only other young lady in the group.
Miss Rebecca Callaghan took her arm, and squeezed it. “Tree dimensions again?”
Chloe sighed. “We are told ‘tis not an exact science from the ground, but why? It should be possible to not just estimate, but to calculate the – ”
“Will you not let it be?” Miss Callaghan smiled, and her eyes darted towards the two gentlemen at the front of the group, walking with her mother. “I had depended on you to be enough of a distraction to enable me to spend a little time conversing with Sir Kyle, but – ”
“Less chatter there,” came the gentle tone of Lady Kathryn. “Claude, go and see what the young ladies are talking about.”
Chloe’s heart sank as quickly as the gangling young man hurriedly came towards them. He was a good natured soul, as far as she could tell. Her visit to the Callaghans always brought her in contact with some of the finer people in society, and her friendship with Rebecca was sincere, even now that she had engaged herself to Sir Kyle, forcing her association with his irritating friends.
Her mother had told her repeatedly that she was fortunate that hers and Rebecca’s father had been such good friends in London, to give her the opportunity to meet so many fine and eligible young gentleman.
Chloe had responded that she would rather hunt for grass snakes, but she was shouted down, and her month long stay at The Beeches had featured far more suitors than serpents.
“Miss Vaughn, of what do you speak?” Claude Ramsbottom asked with a grin that looked a little more licentious than her mother would have ever approved – but then, she had never met Sir Kyle’s friends. “Here, will you not take my arm?”
“I will not,” said Chloe decidedly, and then smoothed it over with, “for you see, I have Miss Callaghan’s arm and that is more than sufficient.”
His face fell, and she was struck with a pang of pity for him. But really, was it his fault that he was so disorientated on his feet? She knew that Lady Kathryn had only invited Mr Ramsbottom to act as companion for herself, now that Rebecca and Sir Kyle were betrothed, and it was a kind gesture. Their outing would have been socially reprehensible with just Sir Kyle to accompany them, after all. Perhaps she should –
“Keep up, you three!” Lady Katheryn scolded over her shoulder. “I did not bring you to the Wandorne estate for nothing!”
Chloe bristled. “My lady, the Head Gardener was more than happy to permit us to wander around for a shilling after our picnic, and so we have all the time in the world!”
Lady Kathryn stopped short, turned around to face the three of them, and raised an eyebrow.
Chloe’s mouth went slightly dry. Her mother had warned her against speaking her mind – she was forever getting into trouble for it. Her fiery temper and quick tongue reflected her red hair, and it was always a fight to keep from spitting out every thought that entered her head.
“Well, ‘tis true,” she said, a little defiantly. She could feel the slight tug on her arm as Rebecca attempted to quieten her, but she spoke only the truth – why should she be silent? “‘Tis but four o’clock, and we have plenty of time to see the gardens after the parkland. And after all, the owner of Wandorne has not been seen for months, has he? No one has seen him, and that man in the village said that the house was empty. Gone to the continent, if I recall. He is hardly going to complain that we took a little longer to walk around his park.”
The raised eyebrow had not lowered, but Chloe saw Sir Kyle smiling broadly. At least her friend’s betrothed could see the funny side.
“Ah, the lake!” Rebecca’s free hand pointed and all eyes turned towards it. “Chloe, shall we take a closer look?”
If Chloe had expected to be able to give a reply, she was sorely mistaken; Rebecca strode forward with her friend’s arm in her own. Almost stumbling over the long skirts of her gown – the one that her mother had described as the height of today’s fashion, and Chloe had described as a waste of good muslin – her eyes widened when she saw a small shape flicker in the water.
“A newt!”
“A smooth newt, I think,” Rebecca said, peering as closely as she could to the shadow without falling in. “Although it could be a Palmate newt, of course.”
“And fish,” said Chloe, her societal concerns completely ignored as much as her hostess. “Freshwater, no doubt – though what is the likelihood that saltwater fish could survive in a place like this?”
“It would be a matter of timing,” replied Rebecca seriously. “Any fish will fight to survive, surely, in any given water state, but over time – ”
“What are you girls talking about? That is impossible!”
Chloe closed her eyes for a moment, regained control of her spark of ire that threatened to flash through her, and plastered a smile on her face. Turning to Mr Ramsbottom, she said nothing but waited for the idiot – mental correction, the gentleman – to continue.
Rebecca was more controlled. A brilliant smile asked, “Why is it impossible?”
Lady Kathryn and Sir Kyle were still following the path, but Mr Ramsbottom had followed the two ladies towards the edge of the lake, and there was a mocking smile on his face.
“Everyone knows that saltwater fish live in the ocean,” he said with what he clearly thought was a charming smile on his face, speaking slowly as though to a child.
“Everyone knew that our sun went around this orb,” countered Chloe quietly. “Until they did not.”
“And gravity was discovered but a few hundred years ago,” Rebecca pointed out. “Do you think that it did not exist before then?”
Now Mr Ramsbottom was laughing, and that irritated Chloe more than any of his words had done. What did this fop think was so funny, with his carefully shined boots and his overly com
plex cravat?
“Your interest in history is commendable,” he said with a smirk. “Do you like reading, Miss Vaughn?”
“I like the sciences, Mr Ramsbottom,” she replied cuttingly. “For that is what we are, Miss Callaghan and myself. Natural philosophers.”
Even from several feet away, Chloe could not miss the look Lady Kathryn gave to the heavens in despair, and it rankled with her in a way that nothing else could.
“Miss Vaughn,” Sir Kyle said quietly. “You know full well that the universities will not allow two young ladies like yourselves – any young ladies, for that matter – to matriculate into their colleges. ‘Tis unjust, and foolhardy to lose the skills of yourself and Miss Callaghan, and yet that is the sad truth of our nation today.”
Before Chloe could open her mouth to agree with Sir Kyle in the injustice of it, a noise startled her to silence.
It was laughter. Mr Ramsbottom was laughing at her.
“A woman – natural philosopher? A female natural philosopher? My, that is good, Miss Vaughn, you almost had me there!” And as if to add insult to injury, he pulled out a large kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the corners of his eyes.
“And why exactly should such a thing, such a person, be a laughing matter to you?” Chloe had barely noticed that she had taken several steps forward and was now peering fiercely into Mr Ramsbottom’s face, who now looked alarmed. “I see no reason why a woman could not be equally good as a man at discussing the secrets of nature – better, perhaps!”
“Now, Chloe,” came Rebecca’s placating voice, “I do think that Mr Ramsbottom – ”
“That is exactly what he meant,” Chloe interrupted, not taking her eyes from the now slightly concerned Mr Ramsbottom. “He does not believe that a woman could attend university, do you Mr Ramsbottom?”
The scrawny face and slightly overlarge Adam’s apple quivered in her gaze, but he stared back at her resolutely. “I…I simply do not believe that a woman could be intelligent enough to – ”
“Now then, let us not speak on this matter,” said Sir Kyle, moving away from Lady Kathryn and taking his friend’s arm, hissing into his ear. “If you know what is good for you Claude, you will quiet your – ”
“There looks to be a lovely piece of woodland round the corner,” Rebecca said elegantly, and Chloe smiled despite herself at the heart of peacekeeping in her friend. “Miss Vaughn, why do not we explore it together?”
“ – not possible, they simply have not the wit nor drive to pursue science,” Mr Ramsbottom’s whisper broke into the silence, and he looked up at Chloe instantly to see if she had heard.
It had been impossible not to. “You are an insufferable man,” she said in as calm a voice as possible, “and I loathe you.”
No more needed to be said; for Lady Kathryn, it had been quite enough. “Now see here, young lady!”
But she would not. Without another word, Chloe swept away and followed the path along the lake, seething with anger, her irritation fuelling her footsteps. All she wanted to do was get as far away from Claude Ramsbottom as possible, and the rest of them for that matter. It was so unfair – this man’s world that she lived in was becoming impossible to accept.
A gentle hand took hers, and Chloe relaxed slightly to feel her friend’s comforting presence.
“But how,” she said bitterly, as though continuing an earlier conversation, “can you even consider marriage to a man who has friends like Ramsbottom!”
Rebecca’s dark eyes twinkled as she said in a mock serious tone, “Well, you know, I do love him. That has something to do with it.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Men that arrogant are disgusting – they should be repellent to all who meet them!”
“Your temper will one day get the better of you,” Rebecca warned.
Chloe sighed, stopped in her tracks, and nodded. “I know. But I just cannot seem to help it. It is so unfair that our dreams must make way for men of lesser brains simply due to an accident of birth.”
Her eyes looked over the lake once more. It was broad, with just a hint of green trees on the other side. Explorers and natural philosophers through the ages had asked the questions how, and why, and why not another way – and those men had searched for answers. Why not her?
“Take some time on your own,” Rebecca said quietly. “Why not meet us back at the house in an hour?”
Despite herself, Chloe grinned. “Do I look that angry?”
“Furious,” smiled her friend. “And I know you. There is nothing more you like to do when all riled up, than to be alone.”
Chloe watched her friend return to her mother and fiancé, and she sighed. At twenty two, she had hoped – and her mother had certainly hoped – that she would have her emotions under control by now. And yet it seemed to get more and more difficult, not easier, as she got older. The injustices of the world seemed to mount up rather than fall away.
But a few minutes on her own walking around the lake lessened the pressure on her heart. A boathouse, slightly uncared for with peeling paint on its walls, came into view, and Chloe was filled with a sense of irritation once more. It had been her brother who was allowed in a boat on his own when they had been children; their father had not believed that she could manage a boat alone. It hadn’t stopped her stealing one on a regular basis, though…
A swell of mischief broke over her, and Chloe smiled. Walking off the path, she quickly found the door to the boathouse and discovered that it was unlocked – barely shut, in fact, with rust stretching down the side.
Inside was a small rowing boat, perfectly designed for one. Any other day, it would have taken her three minutes of indecision to eventually conclude that it was better for her not to take the risk – but not today. In those three minutes she was out sculling across the water, watching the way the water moved in waves.
Another small dark shape darted to her left, and the sense of injustice that she would never be able to study the effects of freshwater on saltwater fish at a college welled up in her again. The sunshine was beating down on her, and she lay back in the boat to stare at the clouds scudding past in the sky.
Hot from anger, tired from rebellion, unable to fight it, Chloe was asleep within five minutes.
It was a jolt that woke her, but in those frantic first moments of waking, Chloe was unsure what kind of jolt. It was then that she realised that she was freezing, and then the darkness of the day overwhelmed her.
The sun had gone down, the lake was a mass of swirling dark waters, and she was cold because rain was lashing down.
She sat up, shivering, and it was then that she noticed what had awoken her: the boat had hit the edge of the lake beaching itself onto the side – which was a mercy when she noticed that one oar must have fallen into the lake while she had been sleeping.
Gown plastered to her body and teeth now chattering, Chloe looked around. Lady Kathryn, Rebecca, Sir Kyle, Mr Ramsbottom: none were to be seen. They must have left hours ago, assumed that she had walked to the village perhaps and taken a coach back to The Beeches.
She was alone, soaking wet, in the dark. But not quite dark; there was a light coming from the Wandorne house. Swallowing and finding herself both hungry and thirsty, Chloe rose unsteadily in the boat, and almost toppled into a few inches of muddy water.
This was not a pleasant situation to be in, and Chloe could only imagine what her mother would say if she knew that she had managed to put herself in such a position. With no other recourse but to go up to the house, Chloe wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep what little warmth she had, and wondered whether the light had come from a servant there, perhaps airing the house while their master was away.
Her pale blue gown was dripping, and she could feel the water seeping down her hair and into her corset. Stumbling slightly on her long skirts, now heavy with water, Chloe found the bell pull and tugged hard at the impressively large front door.
Nothing happened.
With a slight moan, the wind
whipped her hair. Chloe pulled at the bell again, and this time she could hear the deep jangle that echoed deep within the house, but after waiting another minute, nothing at all happened.
The rain was coming down harder now, and the wind was rising. If someone did not come soon, she realised, the best place for her to be was back in the boathouse; it would not be warm, to be sure, but it would at least protect her from the rain.
The large door was made of oak, and it had darkened over what must have been decades, if not centuries. It barred her way to warmth and perhaps food, and Chloe’s chilly irritation broke as she banged on the door.
“Anyone there?” She cried out, against all the evidence before her. “Hie there, is anyone there?”
Just as before, nothing happened. Her hands dropped sadly to her side, water pooling around her now. There was nothing for it.
Chloe turned to face the storm, and shivered in the expectation of the freezing wind that would soon be blowing her about as soon as she left the comfort of the doorway. There was nothing for it; no amount of bracing would keep her warmer in the wind. She would have to look elsewhere for shelter.
It was only after several steps into the gale that she realised what the thin line of light that had appeared just to her left actually meant.
Spinning around, she saw that the front door of Wandorne had opened slightly. There in the gap stood a man – a butler, by the looks of him. Running forward, Chloe pushed past him and into a large echoing hall.
“But – but what are you…who are you?” The man stood aghast, staring at her as though she were an evil spirit come to claim his soul – and Chloe had to admit, as she caught sight of herself in a looking glass hanging on the wall, that she was indeed rather frightening to behold. Long white dripping dress, hair hanging loose and sodden, with wide startled dark eyes.
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