The Earl’s Intended Wife

by Louise Allen

  Thank goodness for Anna’s quick wits, Hebe thought as she struggled out of her clothes and looked down at her body. The bruises, fading into green and mauve stains, were graphic on her thighs and upper arms. She touched the finger marks with tentative fingers, wincing.

  ‘He would not have hurt you, of purpose, ever,’ Anna said gently. ‘It is just that he is a very strong man.’

  ‘I know,’ Hebe said, sleepily struggling into the nightgown. ‘You will stay, Anna?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Anna agreed, pulling the covers up around Hebe’s shoulders. ‘I will stay: I think you may need me,’ she added, almost to herself as she watched Hebe’s eyes close.

  The next morning Sara bustled in, her complexion restored, her clothing once more in pretty light colours, ribbons streaming. ‘How are you, my darling?’ She noticed Anna and smiled. ‘Mrs Wilkins, I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have you here! Are you sure you will be able to stay a while? Will your brother manage without you?’

  Anna smiled back. ‘Why, yes, my lady. I think my brother will do very well without me for a while. There is a certain widow in our village who would make him a very good wife, but while I am there making him comfortable he is too lazy to—oh, what is the word?—to bestir himself to make court to her.’

  ‘Good, now you must promise me that you will say if there is anything you need.’ She hesitated. ‘I have no wish to offend you, but I am sure you set out without much money on you, given the nature of your journey. Would you consider acting as my daughter’s companion while you are with us and accepting the salary I would pay a gentlewoman in such a position in England?’

  ‘Why, yes, my lady, if Hebe is happy.’ Anna received a glowing look of agreement and said, ‘In that case, I accept for as long as Hebe needs me.’

  ‘Excellent. Then if I were to pay you a month in advance, would that suit?’ Terms agreed, Sara got up. ‘Now, Hebe, you are to stay in bed. I am going out to talk to the excellent modiste that has been recommended to me—she made my blacks in next to no time. I will arrange for her to call here tomorrow and we will order clothes for you, and for Mrs Wilkins. And a hairdresser for you, Hebe dear. Then the day after that we will see if you are strong enough to go out shopping yourself. Now rest, dearest.’

  As soon as the door closed behind her Hebe was out of bed and hugging Anna. ‘Oh, thank you! Now, I am not going to stay in bed: I do not want to lie there with nothing to think about but…I mean, I do not want to brood…’

  ‘No,’ Anna agreed sympathetically. ‘I am sure your mama will not mind if you sit quietly in the salon, at least you can look out of the window.’

  They found a shady balcony overlooking the garden, screened from prying eyes with vine-clad trellis and with comfortable wicker chairs and footstools. Anna settled Hebe in one of the chairs and went out to fetch lemonade. No sooner had she gone than a footman came in.

  ‘Beg pardon, Miss Carlton, but there is a gentleman below asking to see you. I said I did not think you were at home.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Major Beresford, miss.’

  Hebe hesitated, not knowing what she wanted to do. The man added, ‘But as your companion isn’t here, miss…’

  Contrarily Hebe made up her mind. ‘Mrs Wilkins will be back in a moment. Please show the Major up.’

  She lay back in the chair, schooling her features into calm. The door opened, Major Beresford was announced and then there was silence as it closed behind the footman.

  ‘Hebe?’

  ‘Out here, on the balcony,’ she called.

  Alex came out, unfamiliar in immaculate uniform. ‘Good morning,’ she said with a smile. ‘I see you have found your baggage from the ship. Please sit down.’ There, she told herself, that was in your best social manner. No one would guess your heart was thudding and you were having to hold on to the arms of the chair so as not to reach out for him.

  Alex dropped into the chair opposite, long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘How are you, Circe?’

  ‘I am very well thank you, but you should not call me that.’

  ‘No, I suppose I should not,’ he agreed. ‘But I think I will not have another opportunity.’

  ‘Why?’ Hebe sat up sharply. ‘Surely you will visit us? It would present a very odd appearance if you did not.’

  ‘I sail for England tomorrow. I have come to say goodbye.’

  How could he say it like that, as if he was saying he would be away for a day or two?

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Hebe said lightly. I am not going to cry, I will not cry. ‘My goodness, that is fast! Surely there is much you have to report?’

  ‘I have been keeping a log in cipher and I have been up half the night reporting.’ He looked at her, unsmiling. ‘There were orders awaiting me, and a ship bound for Portsmouth is in the harbour. We sail with the morning tide.’

  ‘You must be pleased. How long is it since you were in England?’ She pressed on without waiting for an answer. ‘How happy your father and brother will be—and Lady Clarissa, of course.’

  ‘Yes, it is a long time since I saw any of them,’ he agreed. She could feel his eyes on her face, but she did not look at him. He was retreating behind the taciturn front he had used when she first met him. Hebe was determined she was not going to betray her feelings.

  ‘I expect there will be an early announcement of your wedding in the newspapers,’ she said brightly, making herself look at him. A stranger would have seen nothing there, but she knew him too well. ‘You seem surprised?’

  ‘No, of course not, only there will be all the planning to do.’

  ‘Lady Clarissa will have been planning ever since she made her decision,’ Hebe said with a light laugh. ‘What woman would not? Why, she and her mama will have every detail all fixed. What flowers for the church, what menu for the wedding breakfast, exactly how many of the more remote or difficult relatives to invite. You are just the husband-to-be, you will have nothing to say in the matter.’

  Across the salon, the door opened and shut quietly. Anna tiptoed to a chair in the furthest corner. If she stood up and peered round the screen she could see the balcony: that was chaperonage enough, she decided.

  Hebe, feeling she had established a suitably light tone to the conversation, allowed herself to look directly at Alex. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time. She had grown accustomed very rapidly to Alex’s extraordinary good looks: for her that was a minor detail in how she felt about him.

  Now, knowing she was losing him, knowing she was perhaps seeing him for the last time, her eyes hungrily recorded every detail. The way his hair grew at his temples, the depth of colour of his eyes, the exact curve of his ear. She remembered the incredible softness of the skin behind his ears, the tautness of the tendons of his neck under her spread fingers.

  Her body recalled the strength of his as it lay against her own, the heat of him, the scent of him and she longed for his touch. He ran his hand though his hair and immediately she knew how the spring of it would feel against her own palm.

  Her whole body ached for him. She closed her eyes and could see the rangy, naked form, the patches of light and dark where tan met protected skin, the long, strong muscles that had kept him going despite a raging fever, past the point of exhaustion, to protect her. She could trace in her mind the dark hair on his chest, the narrowing trail of it going lower, lower…

  Hebe’s eyes snapped open and she realised that only a few moments had passed since she had last spoken.

  ‘You are doubtless right,’ he said drily, getting to his feet.

  Right? What about? Hebe had no recollection of what she had said and now he was going out of her life. She had to say something, she had to touch him, kiss him one last time.

  A chair moved in the salon behind them, its legs grating on the tiled floor as its occupant shifted slightly. It was enough warning. Hebe got to her feet, holding out her hand. ‘Goodbye then, Alex. You know how I feel about what you did for me, I can nev
er repay that. I wish you very happy.’

  He took her hand and reached for the other, carrying them both to his lips in an unconventional salutation. ‘Goodbye, my Circe. Be careful who you enchant next: I do not think you have any idea of your own power.’

  And then Alex Beresford was gone out of her life forever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hebe expected to find herself on a ship bound for England within a week or two, but in the end it was six weeks before she left Gibraltar.

  Lady Latham had expected it would be an easy matter to find a respectable lady to entrust her stepdaughter to, but by ill chance no one she considered suitable was embarking for home. And Hebe’s health and spirits were giving her cause for concern as well. Hebe, despite doing her best to look lively and interested in the diversions offered her, spent most of her time inside, growing paler and thinner.

  Try as she might, she could not feel quite well: her back ached, she felt slightly light-headed and her appetite had vanished. She rebuked herself for moping, but in fact she managed quite successfully not to brood about Alex every moment of the day. It was difficult at night not to lie awake, staring open-eyed into the darkness and wondering where he was and what he was doing, but Hebe had a strong vein of common sense and even more courage, and she knew she could not fall into a decline over this. He was gone, and somehow she had the rest of her life to get on with.

  Then the news came that Sir Richard had been promoted to Rear Admiral and was being posted back to Malta and Sara was faced with the decision of taking Hebe back with her or sending her on the voyage to England and her aunt.

  ‘I do not know what to do for the best, dearest,’ she said, looking anxiously at her stepdaughter. ‘I worry about you spending another summer in all that heat when you are so pale and tired, but I cannot send you back to England by yourself.’

  ‘If you will excuse me, my lady,’ Anna interjected. ‘Would you consider me accompanying Hebe? I would like to go to England, if you permit it.’

  ‘Hebe?’ Sara regarded her pale face. ‘Would you like that?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Hebe smiled gratefully. ‘I would like that very much.’

  Somehow she had grown to dislike Gibraltar intensely. She could not settle, she felt completely rootless there. And the thought of going back to Malta, where she had been so happy, felt like returning to a hollow dream. England was different, England held no memories, she had left there when she was very young. And somewhere there, although she would never see him, was Alex.

  ‘I do not want to leave you, Mama, only…’

  ‘I know, dearest. You deserve your come-out and your holiday. And I will feel happier about your health with all those good London doctors at hand.’

  The voyage, once the tearful farewells had been made, was calm and uneventful, marred only by Hebe suddenly becoming seasick. ‘I do not understand it,’ she puzzled to Anna. ‘I had no trouble at all before, even in that dreadful storm when Maria and Mama were so poorly, and here I am, in the gentlest of swells, unable to stomach my breakfast.’

  Anna said little, concentrating on keeping Hebe warm, making sure she got some exercise and persuading tempting morsels out of the ship’s cook to coax Hebe into eating.

  Despite the light winds, they made good time and within two weeks had reached Portsmouth. Sir Richard had sent a message ahead to reserve them rooms at a respectable widow’s lodging house, for Hebe’s aunt would not know when to expect her and they would have to spend several days in the port before arrangements could be made.

  Anna inspected the accommodation with a critical eye, but expressed herself satisfied with the two bedchambers and little private parlour. Hebe, swaying somewhat and unable to get her land-legs again, was sent firmly off to bed with the promise that she should write to her aunt the next morning.

  But the next day when she ventured into the parlour she found Anna sitting at the table, an almanac open before her and a serious expression on her face.

  ‘Anna? Is something wrong?’

  ‘I hope not, ducky.’ Anna had shed almost all her Spanish phrases after several weeks of talking nothing but English and even her cockney accent was beginning to disappear. ‘Come and sit down.’ She bit her lip and seemed, uncharacteristically, lost for words. Eventually she said, ‘How long is it since you crossed the border into Spain?’

  Hebe blinked in surprise, but obediently began to work it out. ‘A week, just over, before we reached Gibraltar, then six weeks there, and two weeks at sea, and a few days here and there. Nine weeks I suppose.’

  ‘And your monthly courses, have they come?’

  Too surprised to feel embarrassed at the question Hebe said, ‘Well, no, they have not. I suppose it is because I had such a shock and I am not feeling well. It happened once before when I had a bad fall from a horse, and one month missed.’

  ‘But two? And you feel queasy and dizzy.’

  A horrible cold feeling was creeping over Hebe. ‘Anna, what are you saying?’

  ‘I think you are with child, my dear.’

  ‘Pregnant! No, I cannot be!’

  ‘No?’ Anna said gently. ‘Why should you not be?’

  ‘No! I won’t believe it!’ Hebe was on her feet, pacing the room, her hands pressed to her cheeks. ‘I will not believe it!’

  ‘You must see a doctor, Hebe,’ Anna persisted. ‘And see one soon. Better here where no one knows you than in London.’

  But all Hebe would do was shake her head and pace, repeating, ‘No, I am not! I cannot be.’

  Anna slipped from the room and returned after a few minutes. She took Hebe by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. ‘Now, listen to me. If you are not with child, then you are very unwell in some way and must have medical attention. And if you are, then we must know as soon as possible so we can plan what to do.’

  Hebe just stared at her blankly, so Anna kept talking. ‘I have spoken to Mrs Green, our admirable landlady. I tell her I have a woman’s problem and I need to see a doctor and can she recommend a nice one, because I am shy of seeing a doctor in a strange country. And she tells me of this Dr Adams, who looks after her sister and her daughters who have all got children and have had problems and she says he is a very good doctor and nice and fatherly and will not make me shy.

  ‘So, we will go and see him and you will wear my wedding ring and we will tell him your husband is a soldier on Malta and you have come home to be with your mama because the hot weather does not agree with you. But now you think you are expecting a baby and you are not feeling well and are very upset because neither your husband nor your mama are with you.’

  And so Hebe allowed herself to be walked to Dr Adams’s surgery that afternoon. He was, just as Mrs Green had said, a kind and fatherly man and quite understood how ill and frightened young Mrs Smith was feeling. Yes, she was indeed two months pregnant, and she must not cry any more because soon she would feel much better and would be with her own mama. And in the meantime she must rest and eat—even if she did not feel like it—for the sake of the baby.

  When they returned to their little parlour Hebe said virtually the first thing she had uttered since they had left the consulting rooms. ‘Anna, what should I be eating?’

  ‘You are hungry?’ Anna said with relief. ‘You do not feel so sick?’

  ‘No, I do feel sick and I am not hungry. But the doctor said I must eat for the baby, so I will.’ She stared out of the window as if seeing something beyond the roof tops and the circling gulls and the grey clouds.

  Anna bit her lip and went down to order their dinner, much to the relief of Mrs Green, who had been getting anxious that the poor young lady was so pale and had so little appetite.

  Hebe doggedly ate her way through a chicken wing, some vegetables, a slice of bread and butter and a glass of milk with the air of someone who had to finish a hard, but essential task. She put down her knife and fork on her empty plate and smiled at her companion. ‘Thank you very much, Anna. I am sorry I have been so…fooli
sh. You have been so kind, I do not know what I would do without you. You have been fearing this from the start, have you not?’

  Anna, who was feeling quite sick herself with mingled anxiety and relief that at least Hebe was at last talking rationally and eating, managed to smile back. ‘It is a common consequence of lying with a man, my dear. I could not help but worry.’

  ‘And that is why you came with me? Oh, Anna, I am so sorry. I have dragged you hundreds of miles from home.’

  ‘But not at all! I wanted to come to England. I told you, I want to find another handsome English husband like my ’arry.’

  Hebe smiled weakly at her. ‘Harry, not ’arry! All your other “aitches” are perfect now.’

  ‘He called himself ’arry, so I do too,’ Anna said. She suddenly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Now, you go to bed, Hebe. You must sleep for this baby as well as eat.’

  Hebe took herself off to bed as she was told, but instead of sleeping she sat up against the pillows and forced herself to think. It was as though she had been frozen in a block of ice since Alex had gone and the shock of this discovery had shattered the icy cage open. Now every bit of her was melting into awareness again: slowly, painfully.

  ‘I am carrying Alex’s child,’ she whispered into the gathering gloom. ‘And he is probably married by now. Even if he is not, he does not love me, and soon will be married. So I am going to have to have this baby by myself.’

  She thought for a while, trying to come to terms with it. She did not feel pregnant—however that was supposed to feel. The idea of a child as an individual did not yet seem real, although the idea of Alex’s child as something she was responsible for, something she must cherish for his sake, did.

  What to do? Tell her aunt? Impossible. Hebe lay there, wondering why she did not feel more frightened. Shock, perhaps: well, she must take advantage of it and plan while she could.