His Candlemas Hope

by Marly Mathews

  “He cannot. Mama is the only one that can tell me what to do.”

  “Not this time around, dearest sister. Uncle Christian is paying for everything, and Mama has agreed that he has final say about our comings and goings. You are going to be surprised, Desi. I think he might keep a tighter rein on you. He doesn’t look as if he shall fall prey to your manipulations, and we all know you cannot affect him with your impish ways.”

  “I won’t let him. I will charm him. Just you watch me. I will talk him into doing whatever I want him to do.”

  “I don’t think that will work. Seeing as you have to rely on your natural charm with Uncle Christian, no, you are definitely at a loss. In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t exactly fond of you. I think he loves you, but he doesn’t like you. You will have to work on that. You won’t win this time around, dearie. Uncle Christian isn’t like Mama, he won’t say yes just to get you to shut your bone box.”

  “Hag,” Desi hissed, her eyes sparkling.

  “Imp,” Hope replied.

  “I hate you,” Desi seethed, her body shaking with her pent up fury.

  “I know,” Hope muttered. They had reached the carriage, and the footman lowered the steps so they could climb up inside of it. “I hate riding in carriages for any length of time,” she said softly. She didn’t like being cooped up in a small space. Perhaps it was her fay blood.

  “Me too,” Desi muttered.

  “Why don’t we strike a truce until we reach London?”

  “I suppose so,” Desi muttered. “Anyway, I cannot abide Lord Chorley, and if Uncle Christian won’t let me have my way, well, I don’t think I shall be having much fun. Once we get to London, the peace treaty we have made won’t do you a bit of good.”

  “Jolly good. I don’t think London would be half as entertaining with you and me not at odds. Think of how boring it would be.”

  “By the by, I don’t think you will be able to land Lord Langford. He is far too good looking for you.”

  “And you think you have a chance with him, Desi?” she asked tiredly. Desi was still trying to poke her, and she was growing weary of it.

  “I don’t want him. He might be an earl, but he wasn’t born with that title, was he? I want a duke or a marquess, in command of a fabulous fortune, and I want someone with the cachet of a fine family name behind him. What does he have? Plain old Jones. Where is the prestige in that? Of course, he could double barrel his name with Fortescue…Fortescue-Jones would go nicely…but still… Lord Langford is nobody as far as I am concerned. He can dress up like a nobleman, he can try to talk like one, and act like one, but take that away, and he is just a lowborn uneducated blackguard. Scum of the Earth. I read about how Wellington called his sort that in his Army. Besides, given the circumstances of his birth, I doubt he shall find a suitable miss to marry him. Our cousin might have taken her lowborn giant, but we are not our cousin, are we? No. We are much more special than her.” Hope was entertained by Desi’s royal use of ‘we’. “He…well, he shan’t find anyone but you willing to marry him. And, you know, I don’t even think he is good enough for you. After all, you aren’t that plain. You should be able to land yourself someone of the old blood. You could have tried for Lord Chorley…Miss Duffy doesn’t have a hope with him. She is nothing compared to us. Besides, she is only Irish. With my beauty, there is no question that I shall take the marriage mart by storm. I will have all of the lords born into their stations, attending me. They will be awed by my beauty and grace, and by my witty tongue.”

  “Don’t aim too high, Desi. The higher you aim, the bigger the fall. I wouldn’t want you to hurt that little arse of yours when you tumble down upon it,” she muttered, leaning back against the satin squabs. She closed her eyes, and waited for Lord Chorley and her uncle to arrive.

  Ariel and her uncle’s little dog, Felicity, would be their only other companions inside of the carriage. Once they were all happily settled with straw and heated bricks on the floor to keep them warm, and some cozy carriage rugs, they were rattling over the roads on the way to London. She prayed they wouldn’t have to make too many overnight stops. The posthouses and inns they had to stay at weren’t the nicest accommodations, despite her uncle’s vast wealth and willingness to pay for the best.

  It was funny how time could wear on one when they were cooped up.

  The motion of the carriage was making Hope feel ill, and listening to Desi wasn’t helping much either. She had tried to read a book, only to have to put that back away as the light was too dim, and the motion of the carriage made the words move and her head ache.

  Desi had been gabbling for well over two hours. How her throat wasn’t parched, Hope would never know. Her uncle’s color was up, and Lord Chorley looked as if he was at his breaking point. If anyone looked sorely tested, it was he. He kept clenching his hands, and he had that desperate look in his eyes, almost as if he was contemplating her sister’s demise, and how the best way would be for her to go.

  Hope looked between them, trying to determine which one might break their silence first. Her uncle, for his own part, looked as if he might be dreaming about the same thing.

  Both were attempting to ignore Desi, but they looked at the end of their rope. One of them was going to break soon, she just didn’t know which one. If she had to lay money on it, she would bet on Lord Chorley, as he had been known as Lord Cutting during his Eton days, and her uncle had had more years to amass the ability to remain patient.

  “Miss Desi, could you please pretend to be mute for the rest of the journey?” Lord Chorley asked crossly. “I grow tired of your endless prattling. You are a bit of a rattle, you know that? You gabble like a bloody popinjay. On and on and on. Good God, girl. You have a lot to say, and yet you say nothing at all. It is most vexing.”

  Hope stifled a giggle, and her uncle almost did as well. Alas, he failed, and his laughter boomed throughout the carriage.

  “Ah, Desi, don’t be too cross. Your mouth was rather like a runaway horse,” Christian said softly. “You didn’t seem to know when to stop. Lord Chorley has my gratitude for taking you in hand.”

  If it had been anyone else, Desi would have erupted. As it was, she couldn’t say or do anything. Lord Chorley was an earl, and even Desi deferred to those who outranked her socially. Having her uncle comment on her poor behavior only sealed it for her. She wouldn’t dream of talking back to him, he was the head of the family—and in her own way, Desi was terribly fond of him. Thinking she had disappointed him, was a hard cross for her sister to bear. She was seething at Lord Chorley, furious that he had caused such a scene with her beloved uncle. Oh, was she ever angry. Hope winced.

  Desi’s left eyeball was twitching, and she was wringing her hands. If there was ever a time when she might have a magical meltdown, it was now. Hope braced herself for it. She summoned all of her strength, in the event that everything went horribly awry. Instead, Desi tossed her an annoyed glare, as if she was the one responsible for what came of out of Lord Chorley’s mouth, and then, without saying one word, she turned to look sullenly out the carriage window.

  Desi was obstinate to an annoying degree.

  She wouldn’t say anything else. It looked as if she was settling in for a good lengthy sulk.

  It was going to be a long tense trip.

  Chapter Fourteen

  London was a whole different world from the Cotswolds.

  Hope awoke to the beauty of Berkeley Square. They had been in London for four days now. She had had a restless night, and she still felt a little rattled.

  Exhaustion clawed at her. She didn’t know how she could possibly meet the day. During the night, her own dreams had quickly faded away. Out of the mists of her mind, arrived the nightmares she had grown to expect.

  Lord Langford’s nightmares.

  They had become more pronounced, and she had slowly started to unravel them. His nightmares were plagued with soul suffocating guilt.

  Guilt that he had survived and many others hadn�
�t. There was one person that he grieved in particular, and she couldn’t for the life of her, figure out who the mysterious person was. It wasn’t a former member of the Angels of Death, or at least she didn’t think it was. Gilbert certainly grieved those that had died that had been part of that elite group, but he didn’t blame himself for their death. This person that haunted him—that tortured his dreams—he held himself responsible for his death. She had a feeling the person who had died was a young boy. Younger than what Lord Langford had been at the time. Until he came to terms with that boy’s death, and realized that there was nothing he could have done to stop it, the boy would continue to haunt him.

  Ariel sat at the end of her bed, staring steadily at her, as Hope sat up.

  “Did you sense my unease during the night, Ariel? The nightmares are getting quite intense, aren’t they? I don’t know how Lord Langford deals with them. Fortunately, they don’t come to him every night, or if they do, his need isn’t great enough, and he doesn’t pull me into them, thank heavens. If I had to endure that every night,” she let out a shattering breath, “I think I would be more tired than I am right now.” She needed some good strong coffee to see her through the day. “Don’t worry, Ariel, you will have your breakfast soon,” her words were accented by the rumbling of Hope’s own stomach. She would have to call for one of the three maids her sisters shared, and dress so she could go down for breakfast.

  She could have sworn Ariel smiled at her, and then jumped off the bed. They planned to spend part of the day shopping. Their first stop would be the fashionable Burlington Arcade, and then later tonight, they would attend a ball at Lady Grafton’s townhouse on Hill Street.

  Hesitation plagued her about going out tonight. She suspected that there would be someone in attendance at Lady Grafton’s that she wouldn’t want to see. Considering what had happened between Hope and her former betrothed, she didn’t know if she had the strength to face him. If she remained home, she would miss out on a jolly good time, and Desi would attend, no matter what Hope decided to do.

  The little imp simply couldn’t be left to her own devices. If she was, there was no telling what sort of mischief she would get up to. Not in a place like London. Having her do something foolish in London would definitely bring unwanted attention to their family. If Desi acted out, her other sisters wouldn’t be able to handle her on their own. That meant that no matter how much Hope railed against it, she was stuck going.

  Lord Langford hadn’t muttered one word to her during their trip, and he had managed to keep their interaction to a bare minimum once they had arrived in London. He wasn’t staying with them. Instead, he had taken up residence at Evesham House at the invitation of Lord Evesham.

  Clarence had returned to London in time for his father’s grand Valentine Masquerade. The Duke of Alton held the bal masque every year as he had been born on St. Valentine’s Day, and anyone who was anyone in the ton attended. She was looking forward to it, as they had not been able to attend in years past.

  Gilbert was such a close friend of Clarence’s that he was welcomed at Evesham House. She had overheard Felix saying that Gilbert was planning on buying his own place in London shortly, and that he would take this time in London to search out a suitable residence.

  The ball tonight would be the first time since that fateful night where she would have an opportunity to speak to Gilbert—and she could only hope that she would be able to have a few minutes alone with him. He couldn’t possibly avoid her forever.

  “Come in, Faith,” she said, without waiting for her sister to knock. Her sister cautiously crept into the room, looking over at Hope who still hadn’t mustered enough strength to get out of bed. If she could have her own way, she would have gone back to sleep for a few hours, alas, she couldn’t have her own way. Not until she was her own independent woman, and right now the only way to claim her independence was to marry, and even then, even then, she wouldn’t be completely independent. Her husband would still have dominion over her.

  “I didn’t know if you would be awake. Apparently, my gift of foresight isn’t as developed as yours. Did you manage to get any sleep that wasn’t filled with Lord Langford’s nightmares?” Faith asked softly, concern shimmering in her eyes.

  “A bit,” Hope said, yawning and stretching. “Were they that loud?”

  “Two nights ago they were bloody deafening. They startled me awake. I thought we were under siege. It took me a moment to gather my bearings, and even when I did, I was still unsettled. After I woke up, I could hear the echoes of them for hours. It was rather unnerving. Fortunately, I don’t experience them the way you do. I was about to come and wake you, as I was afraid they were more than you could possibly deal with. I do not think our other sisters have noticed, and if they have, they haven’t bothered to bring it to your attention. I know that Charity, Grace and Amy shall feel the same way about it that I do. They will want to help, but they like me, haven’t the foggiest on how to do it. I wish I knew more, I really do. Papa really didn’t teach us to deal with some of the things we have encountered. Oh, how I wish he was still around to help us. He used to say that most of our lives would be peppered with magical mysteries we would have to use our own wits to solve. Too bad our abilities couldn’t solve the overwhelming debt Papa’s estate suffered. It is truly unfair that we cannot use our powers to fill our coffers up.”

  “If Desi notices my bad dreams, she will use it against me. She pounces on anything that troubles me.”

  “She might. She might not,” Faith said, settling on the other side of the bed. “She isn’t that much of a beast. She knows that we all have our own crosses to bear. She won’t go near Lord Langford now if she has picked up on your nightmares. It will serve as a sign to her that your relationship with the handsome earl cannot be broken.”

  “I suppose you are right. That in its own way is a blessing,” she said, rattling out an exhausted sigh.

  Faith smiled. “You mustn’t allow your thoughts to linger on what you have no control over, dearest. At least, not until tomorrow. I shall aid you in your quest to have a few private words with Lord Langford tonight. Maybe…maybe you can ask him about the boy who haunts him. If he opens up to you—if he knows who it is, you might be able to put an end to these horrid nightmares of his.”

  “You picked up on the boy’s presence, too?”

  “Indeed, I did. The poor boy, he is a boy on the cusp of adulthood, and he is cloaked in white mist…I wish I could see his face.”

  “I do, too,” Hope sighed. “He doesn’t even show himself in the dreams. He makes quite certain that I cannot talk to him, as well. I think…I think he is aware of my presence, and I don’t think he likes it. I only pray he isn’t a ghost with a mean streak. Lord Langford’s dreams are starting to take their toll on me.”

  “I wouldn’t call them dreams, Hope.”

  “Bad dreams, then,” she relented.

  “Nightmares, dear,” Faith corrected.

  “Aye, nightmares. The thing is, the boy doesn’t seem to wish Lord Langford ill will. I just wish he would let his guard down long enough to tell us who he is.”

  “Have you confessed the truth to Lord Langford, yet? You know, the truth about who we are and what we can do? It is a talk we are all going to have to have someday, and I don’t envy you being the first one of us to have it. I fear that when my time comes, my beloved shall run screaming from me.”

  Hope sighed heavily. “Papa told us not to have that talk until we were married.”

  “Aye, but once we are married, we have no power over it, if our husband turns out to be revolted by what we were. I always thought it was something we would have to broach before we married our intended, because if they run away screaming their guts out, we aren’t leg-shackled to them at least.”

  Hope snorted. “I shan’t have to worry about that. Lord Langford doesn’t run screaming from anything. As for having that talk with him, I don’t know if I can. He is already pretty certain I am a fairy, based
on what his friend Lord Cary told him. Of course, should he marry me…it is a talk that will have to happen.”

  “Well, you knew it was only a matter of time. Besides, we are not exactly fairies. Papa said we are something in between, as our fay blood is a bit diluted. He said we don’t have enough of the magic in our blood to call ourselves fairies. Once Lord Cary showed up at the ball, I knew something might come of it. He isn’t blind. Unfortunately, he uses his magical gifts,” Faith sighed heavily. “And what about Lord Langford? Does he know anything about what runs through his own blood?”

  “No, and it isn’t our place to tell him, Faith. I think…I think at this stage, he is better off remaining ignorant. But there is something else you need to know. Lord Langford wanted to know why we didn’t save Uncle Christian.”

  “And did you tell him?” Faith asked.

  “I told him that destiny played a part in it. I don’t think he would understand that we couldn’t intervene, knowing that it wasn’t our place to do so. I don’t think he would understand that our uncle wasn’t meant to die and so our magic could shield him to a certain extent and heal him enough to keep him alive, until Lewis came along and broke the curse. Still…if Fanny’s future hadn’t unfolded the way it was supposed to—I was prepared to stop that wretchedly wicked woman, and risk lighting the beacons,” Hope sighed.

  “So was I,” Faith said softly. “Sometimes, the hardest thing for us to do is to do nothing. Being powerless. Holding ourselves back—it is incredibly hard, and I wish somedays that we could just live our lives and use the full breadth of our powers. I wish…I wish we could play with fate—but we cannot. Doing something like that would certainly earn us unwanted attention. I don’t know if I would have had the same finesse that the good doctor had, even though he did strike terror into her heart. I might have taken it one step further. I feel for the poor woman, but I also have this urge to make her suffer a bit more for all of the pain she caused Uncle Christian.”