Scandal's Heiress

by Amelia Smith

  #

  Hyacinth awoke some time later to the sound of a distant bird. Along the southeastern horizon, the stars were winking out in the pre-dawn sky. Thomas slept beside her, looking oddly innocent and childlike in his repose. She considered stealing back to her own room – this time without any creeping in secret passages – but then decided against it. She roused him.

  “I hope I don't wear you out before your ride,” she said.

  “Minx.” He rolled her over so that she lay on top of him. “Just try. I don't mind at all.”

  Some time later, she heard a clatter from the kitchen.

  “I'd better go back to my own room,” she said.

  “Until our wedding night?” he asked.

  “Surely not that long?”

  “I'll hurry back from London.”

  “Do. Do hurry.” She tore herself away and reached her own chambers unobserved, so far as she could tell. Inside her own bedroom, the dawn light streamed in through the curtains. She pushed them aside to look out at the orchards, the bare-branched winter trees lacy in the blush of the rising sun. Turning back to her bed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, stealthy, disheveled, and, though she might not have thought it before, beautiful. She felt sure that the whole night's misadventures would be written large in every step she made, floating, as she felt, inches off the floor, and longing for him to be inside her, again and again.

  #

  Thomas rode, impatient with the roads, the weather, even with Polaris, who trotted gamely on, swallowing the miles. Four days after leaving Lindley Hall, he trotted into London and straight to the East India Company offices, where he bullied his way into talking with a superior officer, a man who'd spent most of his career in the Subcontinent.

  “Frank Churchill, you say?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Thomas answered. “I met him in Calcutta, then again in London, recently.”

  “And you say he married a Sikkimese princess?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “What, does he intend to bring this jewel back to his bride?”

  “Only if it will secure him an advantageous private agreement with the king, I believe.”

  The man leaned back in his chair, scanning the papers on his desk as if they might tell him something of importance.

  “And you want to return it to your own fiancée, I presume.”

  Thomas cleared his throat. “To be honest, I don't give a damn. We are well enough off without it, but I don't want that man to profit by it, by posing as a highwayman and frightening her.”

  There was a long pause. “We had always wondered what became of it.”

  “My fiancée inherited it from her grandmother, who was known as Mrs. Miller.”

  The man chuckled. “Mrs. Miller? The very beautiful Mrs. Miller?” He pulled a bell-string by his desk.

  “There are several ships sailing in the coming fortnight. Mr. Churchill may be aboard one of them. We'll have him searched, if we can.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “And if this all turns out satisfactorily, we can see about revising your record.”

  “I don't think it would make much difference to me at this point.”

  “All the same, there's no need to be a martyr about it, and we must compensate you somehow.”

  Thomas shrugged. “And what will you do with the jewel?”

  “I suppose we'll inform the Sikkimese consul, and work from there. We can see that it's returned to its rightful owners.”

  “I would like you to do that, as would my fiancée.”

  “Very well,” the man said. A clerk appeared at the door. “See that you get the passenger lists for all our ships departing in the coming fortnight,” he instructed. “Look for a Mr. Frank Churchill, and if he's still in London, have him detained and contact me immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the clerk said.

  “And show this man to the door,” he added, indicating Thomas.

  “Good day, then,” Thomas said. He walked out and rode back to Windcastle house, where he slept for two days straight, then rode again for home.

  #

  Epilogue: A Wedding

  The morning of the wedding dawned clear and warm. Daffodils blanketed the hillsides and robins were building their nests.

  Thomas woke in his mother's house. His father had died a week after his return from London, and just after his mother had arrived. She'd come in the carriage, to say a last farewell, and had begun to take the reins again on the estate. With most of the staff back in place, and a few extra men hired to repair the crumbling buildings, the place was coming back to life.

  “It's a pity that Georgiana wouldn't come,” his mother said, as they prepared to set out for the village.

  “Well, someone has to stay with Lady Caroline,” Thomas said.

  His mother sniffed. “I don't see what good she'll do, though. She'll only terrify herself. She's not a married woman. She hasn't borne children. I ought to be there.”

  “You can go as soon as the priest says, 'man and wife,' if you like,” Thomas said. “The carriage will be right there.”

  “Nonsense,” his mother said. “You will need it to go to your wedding breakfast.”

  “We can walk, or you can leave us there on the way,” Thomas said.

  In the end, though, he knew that she would stay. Her affection for her childhood home had come back to life as she assumed control of the house once more. That included sacking the cook, but Thomas had quietly penned her a reference before she left in a flurry of the Baroness's long-suppressed rage.

  #

  Hyacinth walked down from Lindley Hall with half the staff, while the others prepared the wedding breakfast. She'd sent word to Aunt Celia, but had not been entirely surprised when she did not arrive for the wedding. They had nearly reached the bridge when a carriage rattled down the road behind them.

  Maria recognized it first. “Harold!” she called, and ran to meet him.

  Harold drew back on the reins and the horses pushed back against the onrushing weight of the carriage, snorting. Before it had even come to a complete halt, the carriage door opened and George sprang out, followed by Sophie. Hyacinth ran to them and hugged them. She had her face tucked into the side of George's head when a once-familiar throat-clearing made her look up.

  Captain Grey descended from the carriage, holding a pair of crutches in one hand.

  “Father!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “What happened?”

  He brushed off Aunt Celia and limped towards his daughter. “I caught a bit of shot in the foot, and they transferred me home. I only heard of all this,” he said, gesturing at the crowd gathering in front of the church, “because I overheard your esteemed aunt bemoaning your fate to one of her cronies. She only told me that you'd gone into the country.”

  Aunt Celia bristled. “And so she had.”

  “Well, I'm glad you're all here.” Hyacinth beamed at her father. “You may walk me to the altar.”

  “We'll see about that,” he replied. He watched the Pently's carriage approach through narrowed eyes. “I don't like this business.”

  “You don't know him,” Hyacinth said.

  “I don't. And I don't like him forcing my hand like this, either.”

  The Pently carriage drew to a halt in front of the church. Hyacinth and her father, trailed by the rest of her party, walked towards it.

  Thomas's mother descended first, looking every inch the Baroness. Thomas followed, seeking Hyacinth in the crowd. Their eyes met for a moment before Captain Grey stepped between them.

  “A word, if you please,” Captain Grey said.

  Thomas nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  They walked towards each other like two men pacing the distance for pistols at dawn. A chilly breeze wafted in from the hills. Hyacinth looked for Maria, but she had disappeared with Harold, while Matt the gardener led the carriage horses to the stables at the village inn. Sophie and Aunt Celia stood
looking somewhat lost while George scaled the village's best climbing tree.

  “Don't rip your breeches!” Hyacinth chided.

  “I don't know how you endured that boy,” Aunt Celia said.

  “Quite happily, most of the time,” Hyacinth said. She took her cousin's arm, and coaxed her aunt along. “Shall we go into the church?”

  #

  Thomas and Captain Grey walked into the graveyard beside the church until they were far enough from the others to talk privately.

  “I don't know what you're about,” Captain Grey said.

  “Marrying your daughter, I hope,” Thomas said.

  “But why?”

  “Because I love her.”

  “Hmph.” Captain Grey leaned against a tree. “Not to spite your family?”

  Thomas smiled. “That is only a convenient coincidence.”

  “And you'll make her a Duchess?”

  Thomas looked back towards the road, where the rest of the wedding party had been moments before. “I rather hope not.”

  Captain Grey raised his eyebrow skeptically.

  “I preferred being Mr. Smithson, and I apologize for trying to buy your influence with the Pently name.”

  “A singularly bad strategic choice,” Captain Grey commented.

  “And why is that, exactly?”

  Captain Grey looked away. “It was my sister. Your uncle compromised her, and of course paid none of the price, while she paid it all. Oh, I tried to make him pay, but I was a boy, and he was heir to a duchy.”

  “Was there a child?”

  Captain Grey shook his head. “I don't know. I wasn't told.”

  “I see.” Thomas walked away from the captain, from his future father-in-law, looking at the rows of untidy graves, the etched names and lichen-covered inscriptions. “Well, I can't say I have much to offer for that. I'm not fond of my uncle. I don't think anyone is.”

  Captain Grey grunted.

  Thomas took a deep breath. “But today, I don't want to think of him. I just want to marry your daughter, and go to live with her at her house. She has plans to turn it into a school for impoverished girls, to save them from the streets.”

  “She has always wanted to help those less fortunate.”

  “I'll help her if I can, and someday, we might leave the school to others, and settle our family at Lawton, or at Windcastle, if need be. I am beyond glad that we met first as shipmates, and not as neighbors, though I'm glad now that our houses are so close to one another.”

  Captain Grey said nothing.

  “May I have your daughter's hand in marriage?”

  Captain Grey nodded. “If that's what she's chosen, you may. With my halfhearted blessing.”

  “I hope to turn that into a whole-hearted blessing by the time our first child is born.”

  Captain Grey's face fell. “Will that be soon?” he asked.

  Thomas shuffled his feet. “Not too soon, no.”

  “Good. Because otherwise I might have to call you out, as I did your uncle.”

  “Very well. Shall we go back to the church?”

  “Yes, let's get this all over with.”

  Although Captain Grey grumbled, he looked distinctly more cheerful, even joyful, by the time he reached the altar rail with his daughter on his arm.

  #

  That night, Thomas and Hyacinth dined with Hyacinth's father, brother, aunt, and cousin, as well as Thomas's mother and a few distant cousins she'd summoned for the occasion. They were just rising from the table when a messenger arrived: Lady Caroline was recovering from childbirth, tired but well. She'd borne twins. Twin boys, small but hearty.

  “One last toast!” Thomas said. “To an heir and a spare, and to Lady Caroline.”

  He turned to Hyacinth and kissed her right there, in front of everyone. “And to the life we want to live,” he whispered.

  “To our lives together,” Hyacinth said.

  “For a very long time.” Thomas added.

  They drank, then joined hands, turning to embrace their future.

  ###

  Author's Note

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