Benedict's Bride

by Janet Woods

  Caustically, she said, ‘And I’d prefer death by natural causes, preferably in old age with my children and grandchildren all around me.’

  ‘Quite. You’re a woman, after all.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Is there anything else you wish to tell me, Miss Hartford?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The part that your cousin, Lord Hartford took in this affair.’

  ‘I’ve already stated that have no knowledge that he did. In fact, my cousin was very brave,’ she said fiercely, even though she’d felt like killing him herself, earlier. ‘He faced Stephen Gould with no weapons and tried to talk him out of what he was doing.’

  ‘A foolhardy act.’

  ‘But a brave one nevertheless, and one that must be taken into account.’

  ‘Will you be swearing out charges against him?’

  ‘Certainly not, and I absolutely forbid Lord Costain to do so.’

  ‘Ah well, as for that, Lord Costain must decide for himself. As things stand I imagine the protagonists’ actions tomorrow will settle the issue one way or the other.’

  To stop herself from stamping her foot or committing other unseemly displays of temper, like breaking a pot over the magistrate’s head, she said, ‘Will that be all, sir? I’m suffering from the onset of an unpredictable headache.’

  ‘Certainly, Miss Hartford. Your statement will need to be signed and witnessed. In half an hour perhaps, when my clerk had finished it.’

  ‘How can you face this so calmly when your son and heir might be lying dead in the meadow tomorrow,’ she demanded to know of the earl when they were outside.

  ‘My dear, would you rather your cousin went to prison. I could have him charged, since he entered my home in company with Gould, and stole a document. Also a snuff box and a purse was stolen, of which only the snuff box has been recovered.’

  She hung her head. ‘I’m truly sorry, My Lord. I was thinking only of myself, and had hopes for his rehabilitation. To that purpose I would offer you compensation.’

  A kiss landed on her cheek. ‘My dear, sweet, girl, you cannot change the nature of a man, only he can. To take your cousin’s burden on your shoulders would weaken him. Lord Hartford has yet to prove his worth as a man to himself. If it’s any consolation to you I will not bring charges, for I have no wish to lose your friendship.’

  ‘And if by some chance Benedict is killed? What then, My Lord. Will you still wish to retain our friendship?’

  Contemplative eyes settled on her. ‘I have the utmost faith in my son, since I know the man he is. We’ll see what the morrow brings.’

  But Amber knew what it would bring - instant death for someone. And having now been only an inch away from death herself, life had become very precious to her.

  * * * *

  After a night of fitful tossing and turning Amber was hollow-eyed when the sound of horses brought her awake. It was still dark, with just a brushstroke of pale yellow light on the horizon to signal the coming dawn.

  At the same time Annie came in with a candle and a jug of warm water in which to wash.

  Mrs. Phelps came after with a tray of tea, and a bowl of fruit, which she placed on a side table. ‘I thought it might help you wake up, Miss Hartford,’ she said. ‘Word has got around and there’s a right goodly crowd in the meadow. The district has never seen the like of two gentlemen dueling before.’

  And she couldn’t have them all charged with trespass. No wonder the magistrate had laughed, she thought miserably as the woman left.

  The hall clock struck six. Suddenly she remembered a John Donne meditation, learned at her grandfather’s knee. Never send to know for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee.

  She shivered, and scrambled out of bed in a panic. Quickly washing, she donned the blue gown Annie held out for her. A shawl was placed about her shoulders, for the morning had an autumn chill to it.

  With no time to arrange an elaborate style, her hair was quickly tied at the nape of her neck with a blue ribbon. The short ends curled naturally against her skin, but Amber didn’t care how she looked as she drank the tea offered to her.

  What if Benedict should die? How could she live without him now? But how could she live with him knowing he’d killed her cousin? Patrick was no match for Benedict. Her heart lifted when she remembered it would be in Patrick’s nature to have fled.

  Her stomach suddenly roiled and she headed for the bowl with the washing water in and lost the tea she’d just consumed. ‘Goodness, what brought that on?’

  ‘It’s nerves I expect Miss Hartford,’ Annie wiped her lips with a flannel. ‘Do you feel all right now?’

  ‘My stomach is a bit unsettled. I expect it’s because I didn’t have any sustenance except wine for two days.’

  Annie picked up a small apple from the bowl. This will settle your stomach. My mother used to swear by it when she was with child. Reckoned she always knew because of the sickness in the mornings. Fourteen live ones she gave birth to, too.’

  The sharp juice freshened Amber’s mouth and settled her stomach. Fourteen children, what endurance, she thought as she headed of downstairs and out into the morning. She couldn’t see the meadow grass for the mist rising from the ground. But then the sun came up beyond a row of beech trees and the morning lit up like a flaming torch.

  Amber blinked. Women were huddled together in one group. Mrs. Winter’s glance fell on her. She nudged the woman next to her and whispered something in her ear. Immediately all heads turned her way. The group of men included Reverend Winter, whose glance was surprisingly sympathetic. Her presence caused an animated buzz of whispers.

  Patrick had a stubborn look on his face and was standing with Kitt, who was talking earnestly to him.

  ‘God, please allow Kitt to talk some sense into him,’ she whispered, and she wondered which candidate the reverend would be saying his prayers over afterwards.

  Her heart lurched when she saw Benedict standing with Archie. He must have sensed her presence for he turned and gazed at her, his eyes as blue and as deep as bluebells.

  How imposing a figure he was, broad-shouldered and dressed all in black except for a silver grey waistcoat. Those eyes drew her into him and she felt her heart beat with the strength of his. If he took a bullet that silver waistcoat would be splashed with red as his life drained from him. If his heart stopped, hers would break and she’d die with him.

  She shrugged off her melancholy. He couldn’t die. He was too alive. Clearly she recalled the ecstasy as they’d abandoned their outer skin of clothing and revelled in each touch on their naked bodies. She knew him well now, as he knew her. She blushed and grinned at the same time.

  Benedict blew her a kiss and his mouth twisted into a faint smile, as if he was remembering it too.

  ‘Don’t die, I love you,’ she murmured, not caring who overheard.

  Immediately the woman began to give each other knowing looks and whisper amongst themselves.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, my dear,’ the earl said.

  ‘Yesterday I said things I shouldn’t have. I was harsh and I wanted Benedict to know that I love him.’

  ‘Believe me, he does know it.’ The earl tucked her hand into his. ‘Come, I’ll take you inside until this is over.’

  ‘No. I won’t blame Benedict if he kills Patrick, but I’m hoping my presence will prevent it from happening.’

  The doctor had arrived now, giving a cheery smile to everyone. He placed his bag on the ground. Things progressed quickly. There was a short conversation with all concerned. The seconds loaded the pistols in the presence of each other while the duelists removed their coats.

  Patrick was offered his choice of pistols. He took one without looking and Amber’s heart went out to him when she observed the beads of perspiration on his ashen face. God protect you, she whispered.

  Pistols held at their sides the protagonists walked away from each other then turned. Pistols came up. Two puffs of smoke were followed by two reports, one immediately after the oth
er.

  Startled, the rooks circled up from the trees in the copse, cawing harshly.

  Eyes wide, Amber stared from one man to the other. Patrick staggered a bit when a red stain appeared on his sleeve. The gun dropped from his hand.

  Kitt moved towards him with the doctor and inspected the wound. After a moment or two he looked over to where Benedict still stood. ‘Lord Hartford has been disabled and begs your pardon.’

  Handing Archie the pistol Benedict advanced towards Patrick and the pair shook hands while the doctor attended to Patrick’s wound.

  ‘Ah, yes ... that’s what I thought they’d do,’ the earl murmured almost to himself.

  The relief was so palpable that Amber began to shake with it.

  ‘Hussy,’ one of the women hissed at her as the women filed by.

  The men stayed around, talking amongst themselves. Benedict was having a conversation with the reverend as the earl led her back to the house.

  She thought Benedict might come back to the house, but he didn’t, and neither did Patrick. The earl and countess prepared for their journey home. Kitt and Archie intended to accompany them, but there was no sign of Benedict.

  ‘Where’s Benedict?’ she asked Archie.

  The pair gazed at each other. Archie shrugged, then Kitt mumbled evasively, ‘I haven’t seen him for a while. Don’t worry about him.’

  Patrick came by later in the day.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked him.

  ‘It was just a scratch, the bullet grazed the skin. I’ve come to offer my apologies, then I’ll be on my way. I was such a fool.’

  ‘Thank you for not killing Benedict.’

  ‘I’m a lousy shot. I didn’t have a chance in hell of hitting Costain. My shot went wide. He could easily have killed me, but he spared me, and without making a fool of me. I won’t forget that.’

  She drew in a deep breath and offered him what she thought was right, considering that he was their grandfather’s heir. ‘If you’d like I’ll give you the house back and some money. If the land is farmed properly it will support you, and there is an income from the rents.’

  He smiled wryly as he gazed around him. ‘I’ve never wanted the responsibility of this house. I still intend to go abroad, and I know your viscount would prefer it if I did. Kitt Foster knows a few people. He thinks he can find me employment with the British East India Company, abroad.’

  ‘And will you take it up?’

  ‘Since I’ve been offered a chance to redeem myself I’d be a fool not to. Don’t worry Amber, I won’t let him down. But first I’m going to take the girl who helped Stephen back to her father at the inn, and make sure Jonas is returned safely to his uncle. As for your money, I can’t accept it. I’m already beholden to you for my life, something that became extremely valuable to me when I was gazing down the barrel of your viscount’s gun. There, I never thought I’d say that.’

  Amber tried not to smile at the sight of Patrick bristling with his newly found pride, but she couldn’t send him away penniless. ‘The farmer still owes for the wheat crop he harvested when the house was yours? You’re entitled to have that.’

  ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘Go and ask him. He’s probably hoping I’ve forgotten it. By the way, although I negotiated I couldn’t push him up past a quarter of the sale price. But that’s because I’m a woman. Fifty percent would have been fairer. You might like to push him a little.’

  He smiled at that. ‘Thanks, Amber, I’ll make sure I’ll collect it.’ When he awkwardly stooped to kiss her cheek she pulled him into a hug.

  He gave an odd huff of laughter when she released him. ‘I’ve never been hugged before.’

  ‘I hope you don’t die from it. Sometimes it’s infectious.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad.’ Awkwardly, he hugged her back, then laughed. ‘Goodbye Amber. It’s unlikely that we’ll meet again.’

  ‘Good luck.’ There were tears in her eyes when she watched him ride off down the drive without looking back.

  Chapter Twenty

  Amber didn’t set eyes on Benedict during the next week and thought he might have decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.

  The house had been staffed in that time from an agency in Poole. The new servants were working under the authority of Mrs. Phelps, who’d turned out to be efficient as well as pleasant. As a result the woodwork and furniture glowed with polish, the windows gleamed and every corner was free of dust.

  The belongings Amber had left at Emma’s house had been delivered, along with Jake. Now her house was in order she felt cut off from Benedict and his sociable family. Even Jake’s arrival didn’t assuage her loneliness.

  ‘Have you seen, Lord Costain?’ was the first thing she asked.

  He shook his head.

  They sat at her grandfather’s desk and wrote their thank you letters, then sent them off with a messenger. Dearest, Benedict, I love you so much and I miss you, she wrote.

  A few days later Jake went with Annie on Samuel’s cart into Bridport. They returned with huge smiles on their faces. From then on the pair exchanged secretive smiles or indulged in whispered conversations, which were cut off abruptly if she walked in on them.

  On the second Sunday Annie was unusually fussy with her gown and hair. ‘The cream one with the matching pelisse is so becoming, Miss.’

  It was the gown Emma and Caroline had intended her to wed Benedict in.

  ‘You should wear that, and the emerald set Lord Costain gave you with it. So becoming.’

  And her hair arranged just so, with small curls and ringlets. To top it off was a straw bonnet trimmed with pink silk roses and ribbons.

  ‘Wear this white silk shawl with the gown, Miss Hartford. ‘And the white kid boots, I think.’

  It was getting late. Jake wandered in, wondering whether his boots needed polishing. There was a secretive look in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know why everyone is being so fussy today,’ she said, pulling on white silk gloves. Your boots are fine, Jake. Come on, we’ll be late for the service.’

  Jake gave a wide smile. ‘Lord Costain wishes to see you. He’s in the morning room.’

  Her heart nearly stopped beating. ‘Lord Costain?’

  Her head was full of humming birds, her stomach filled with butterflies.

  ‘Tell him I’ll be ready to see him in ten minutes. You may go on to church with Annie.’

  She couldn’t wait longer than three. He stood when she slid through the door. Dressed in dark blue cutaway jacket with a silver waistcoat, he looked splendid.

  She found herself short of breath when he smiled, and looked into her eyes. ‘We have things to say to each other. Would you like me to go first?’

  When she nodded her crossed to where she stood and cleared his throat. ‘I love you, Amber Rose. Will you become my wife?’

  ‘I want to apol –’

  He placed a finger over her lips and growled, ‘Never mind apologies. Yes, or no.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come on then.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the church, of course.’ He drew her into his arms to gazed into her eyes, then his lips gently touched against hers.

  ‘I’ve missed you, my love,’ she whispered.

  They walked off through the lane towards the church. Autumn was approaching fast. Leaves fluttered about them and were crunched underfoot. The chestnut trees were aflame, their nuts falling ripe from their husks to lie like glossy brown balls. She must collect a basket or two to roast.

  They were in good time, for the service hadn’t started. The church was filled with flowers. Benedict’s family took up the two front pews. Jake offered her a cheeky grin.

  As Amber knelt to pray, Benedict whispered in her ear, ‘Whose soul are you praying so hard for. . . yours or mine?’

  She inhaled him with one deep breath, soap, leather and musk all in one swoop. Love for him swept through her and she experienced such exultation she wanted to shout with the joy
of it. Her eyes met his and a smile curved her mouth up at the corners.

  Her hero. Her love! She had an urge to lean forward and kiss the smiling contours of his mouth. Happiness burst through her veins and filled every space in her body with sunshine. ‘Where have you been for the past week, you renegade?’

  ‘At the inn.’ His chuckle lifted the hairs at the nape of her neck. ‘I thought a short time apart might give you the time you needed to think about the promises made between us, and to be sure in your heart that marriage to me was what you wanted.’

  ‘Are you sure, Benedict?’

  ‘From the first moment I met you.’ He took her hand in his and gently traced the lines on the palm. ‘I’ve missed you, Amber Rose.’

  She closed her eyes, feeling complete now he was with her again. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’

  ‘Shush. You should be ashamed, disrupting the service like this,’ Mrs. Winter whispered crossly from the pew behind them.

  Benedict quelled her with one look. ‘I’m ashamed of nothing. Cease your tattling. A man should be able to declare his profound love for a young lady in the house of the Lord without being eavesdropped on and uncharitably censured for it.’

  She should stop him, she thought, but then laughter bubbled up inside her at the thought that he’d risk making a fool of himself by displaying his feelings in public. And if he could do so, then so could she!

  Amber placed a finger against his mouth, though when he tickled it with the tip his tongue it proved to be most distracting. ‘You know I love you, Benedict.

  When she glanced round at the congregation, she saw his entire family was wearing encouraging smiles. Love for them all, and admiration for the way this family cared and supported each other touched her heart, for it was something she’d never known.

  The reverend stepped forward, a smile on his face. ‘Shall we begin the ceremony?’

  The public declaration was a romantic gesture, one worthy of Benedict. Amber adored him for his thoughtfulness. She wanted to marry him because she loved him, but although she was not certain yet, she’d also begun to suspect there was another reason that they should wed. She remembered Caroline telling her about a gypsy foretelling that three sons would be born on the same day into the Costain family, and she smiled.