The Reluctant Heir
Jennifer Conner
The Reluctant Heir
Copyright 2011- Books to Go Now
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First eBook Edition –August 2011
Printed in the United States of America
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
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Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Chapter 1
England, 1855
Clarke Garrison watched Adeline walk across the vast lawn of the estate. He wasn't exactly sure why he was compelled to watch her every move. They’d known each other since childhood.
Adeline wasn’t a child any longer.
Her dark hair hung to her waist in curls that only accentuated her deep blue eyes and porcelain skin. Womanly curves filled her white and blue flowered cotton dress nicely making his mouth dry. She was hands down one of the most beautiful women in this part of the shire, but there was something about her that set her apart from all others. She’d proved to him she was strong and resilient, not a shy maiden like many he’d met. He hated those giggling, silly girls his mother kept introducing him to. Even after the tragedy she’d endured, she’d held her head high and looked others in the eye when they spoke to her.
He didn't know why he chose to put himself through this torture day after day. He’d avoided Adeline at every turn possible since his return from the Crimea war. If she knew the truth, he was the last person she would ever want to talk to.
He was responsible for her brother’s death.
Turning from the large paned windows, he moved away, but came to a stop as his best friend Spencer swung the door open.
“There you are. Amelia and I have looked all over for you,” Spencer said as he pulled his new bride by the hand through the door.
Amelia smiled and said, “We're going on a picnic. It's such a lovely day the cook is packing lunch now.”
She was such a sweet girl. Spencer was lucky to find a wife that he was able to marry for love and not money. Spencer was the Duke, and through Clarke was not a Duke, he was from noble lineage and an Earl. His mother pushed possible matches for marriage and hung his entitlement over his head. What he couldn’t make her understand was that he didn’t want any of it; he just wanted things to be set right. Something money couldn’t buy.
“No, I'll be staying here,” he said in an even tone. He strode over to the bookshelf and pulled out a fine bound leather volume. “I have been meaning to read this all week, and now with the house quiet, I'll finally have the chance."
“The King’s American Dispensatory?” Spencer asked with a raised brow.
He hadn't even looked to see what he pulled off the shelf. He glanced down and scanned the title. “Herbal medicinal healing, important for everyone to know, don’t you agree?”
“Clarke,” Spencer began, but then stopped and turned to Amelia. “Can you give us a moment alone, dear?"
The last thing Clarke wanted to do was stand there and be lectured to.
"What," he said tersely.
“You are not the only one who carries scars and horror filled nights from those battlefields we endured. We fought. We survived. We were the lucky ones who returned home."
Clarke let out a snort of disgust. “So, I'm one of the lucky ones?"
“Yes, we both are. You were not solely responsible for Adeline’s brother’s death. We both gave orders that day. You didn’t just sit in the tent while the brigade was cut down."
“I do not feel like skipping across some bloody meadow for a bloody picnic.” Clarke pinched the bridge of his nose where the beginnings of a headache grew. “Your wife is waiting. I suggest you go and find her and be on your way.” He turned his back.
He didn't turn around for a good five minutes. He didn't want to be angry, he was a good-natured man. But there were just some things Spencer needed to understand.
Life would never be as it once had.
Adeline was happy to finally have a few moments to herself. She'd been introduced to the Duke of this such, and the Earl of that such over the past weeks. With her father having one foot out of debtor’s prison and their estate close to bankruptcy, she was more a laughing stock than a catch.
She’d had plans of spending the summer at home, but when brokers took most of her home’s furnishings she was lost. When Spencer and his sister, Felicity, invited her to stay at Warringham Estate for the summer, it was a Godsend. They had huge hearts and she would always be thankful for their generosity and the fact that not once had they mentioned her family’s financial woes.
Spencer and Felicity were like a brother and sister to her. Felicity dropped hints on a possible match between her and Spencer, but she never had any feeling beyond ‘brotherly’ affection. Now he’d fallen in love and married Amelia. She acquired another sister, and she was desperately happy for both of them. Would love ever be in the cards for her? It seemed to be such a foreign thing… like Russia.
Men spoke of her beauty, but she found most of them were empty headed dandies. She feigned interest while they talked on about some poor fox run to ground and set upon by hounds.
A stroll through the gardens would clear her mind.
Adeline turned her face to the sun and breathed in the warm air. The smell of grass and wild roses cascaded in the breeze. Watching the interesting cobblestone path in front of her, she came around the corner, and stopped dead.
“Captain Garrison.” She looked around. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
He looked abashed as if he’d seen an apparition. Her hair was slightly mussed, but she couldn’t look that bad.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Barlow.” He still looked rather ill. “Why aren’t you at the picnic?”
“I could ask the same question of you.”
“I can make my own sandwich. I don’t need crust-less monstrosities.”
“I am sure you can. Would you care to walk with me?” She knew she should not be out here with a man, unescorted, but her father was no longer healthy enough to bark judgment. “Captain Garrison…”
“Adeline? Formalities?” he asked, though he still looked uneasy with her presence. “We’ve practically known each other since birth.”
She smiled. “Do you wish for me to call you Clarke Park, as I used to?”
“Clarke will be fine. I said we were to drop formalities, and that goes for childish nicknames too.” He had a brutish quality since he’d returned. Adeline wasn’t sure if it made him handsome or frightening. His dark hair was combed back from his angular face and he’d lost all boyhood roundness from when he was a lad. He was all muscle and strong lines now. His eyes matured into such a deep sh
ade of brown. When he’d first returned she’d mistaken them for black. Unlike most of the polished young men around the estate, Clarke’s beard stubble darkened his chin and accentuated his full mouth.
She had the strangest thought. How would his lips taste?
Adeline pulled her gaze up to meet his eyes. He still wasn’t smiling.
“If you have other duties to attend to, I will be fine. I will be on my way.” She turned to walk away, but felt a hand grasp her upper arm, his finger warm against her skin.
“Wait. I…”
Most men she could read like an open old volume of the dictionary. She had no idea what Clarke was thinking. When they were young she could, but not now. “Yes?”
“I would be happy to walk you back.” He stiffly crooked an elbow and she wound her hand through the opening.
They walked for a few minutes in silence until she finally said, “I have not seen much of you these past few months. Since you came to tell me…”
The muscles in his arm tightened.
“Death is never easy,” she said after a sigh. “Bearing the news of David’s, especially someone so young, must be extremely difficult. I cannot imagine being burdened with the task of informing the families on the loss of a loved one.”
“I was the Captain of his unit. It was my duty.”
“A duty? I thought it was because of your acquaintance with my family.”
“It was both.” They stopped by a wooden garden bench. He motioned for her to sit and then joined her.
Clarke rubbed hands over his knees and then straightened his back. “How has your family coped with your brother’s loss?”
“My father continues to be ill. His cough is worse by the week and I fear he will not be with us too much longer. With my brother gone, there are no male heirs. I will not inherit-so I am not sure where that leaves the estate. If he’s declared a bankrupt, his name will appear in the London Gazette. I only hope my father passes before then. He is a proud man, and deserves to die with his dignity.” Adeline forced a smile. “What does your father have in mind for your future?”
“My brother, Ellis, assists my father the best he is able with the estate. I am sure you know we fought together and he was injured.”
“I heard of the wound to his leg. I am sorry.” They walked a little farther before she asked, “Your family is fortunate. With two sons and you the eldest, there will always be someone to inherit.”
“I’m not interested in the estate. Money is not what I seek.”
A reluctant heir? She had never heard of this, young men were usually anxious to take their place running the family estate. “What do you seek, Clarke?”
“Peace of mind.” He stood and walked to the arbor. He leaned a hand against the wood post and looked out at the pond filled with quacking ducks.
Adeline wasn’t sure what to do. He seemed angry, but more than that, he seemed lost.
When she moved to stand next to him, she laid a hand on his arm. “I have wondered all these months, tell me your last memories of my brother. I miss him so dearly.”
Clarke looked into her eyes. “He was with me,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Her heart broke from the look in his eyes. “It was his choice to join. My father knew he was too young, but approved, because he wasn’t of age to join the ranks. David was so proud to be the bugler for you and Spencer’s regiment.”
“He was only a child.” He turned to her.
“It is hard not to be bitter. I want someone I can blame for his death. He was taken too young.”
“You have to know the truth. If you need to blame someone, blame me.”
“What?”
“You heard what I said.” Clarke said something else but the words were blurred.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she choked out.
He grabbed her arms, desperation etched on his face. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I am the one responsible for his death. Blame me!”
How could this be? She pulled away. He reached for her but Adeline yanked her arms free and ran. She ran back to the house until she thought her lungs would explode from lack of air.
She opened the door and stumbled inside, then ran the distance to her room. Adeline fell face down on the comforter and cried.
She wasn’t sure how many hours passed. There were so many unanswered questions running through her head. There must be some mistake, but with the look on Clarke’s face. He wanted her to believe him. To blame him.
She had.
There was a knock on the door. Adeline swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. “Yes?”
“It’s Amelia. Can Spencer and I come in?”
She wiped her eyes clear and opened the door.
“Clarke came and got us. He was worried about you.” Amelia said and shut the door behind them.
“Please, sit.” Spencer motioned to the chair by the window and lit a lamp for light. “This has gone much too far and I will not allow these untruths to be spread one day longer. Adeline, we have known each other since we were children. Do you trust my word?”
“Of course, Spencer.”
“I want you to speak the truth now, what did Clarke say to you in the garden? He would not tell me.”
Adeline felt a tear slide down her cheek. “He said he was responsible for my brother’s death.”
Spencer sat and dropped his head into his hands. When he looked up, he let out a sigh. Amelia placed a hand over his shoulder and squeezed, her love for her husband evident on her face. “I was afraid that may be what he said. If that is the case, then I am just as responsible as all the men of Warringham who left to fight. We were young and anxious to have our chance at battle. But, with that came decisions and responsibilities. None of us were ready for the brutality of war. I have barely just begun to allow myself to speak of it with others.
Clarke’s brother took a saber blow to the leg, but Ellis’ may be an easier wound to heal than Clarke’s. He blames himself for so much, starting with the death of your brother.”
“Tell me what happened.” Adeline braced herself for the story.
Chapter 2
Clarke made sure the hooks and eyes at the neck of his jacket were fastened to stave off the biting October wind. Lord Raglan gave the command as Clarke’s Calvary Brigade Seventeenth Lancers were pressed to defend the Ottoman redoubts against the Russian attack. Adrenaline, combined with the roar of cannon fire made his heart beat heavy in his chest.
He clasped his thighs against the saddle, and waited. He wished all his men had horses, the advantages over an opponent on foot was great. A soldier on horseback had in his favor height, speed, and inertial mass, not to mention the element of fear.
The Scottish Regiment was holding back the attack and the cavalry was ready to advance. Clarke squared his shoulders and looked around. He saw Spencer, but where was his brother, Ellis? He’d seen him only a few minutes back. It was a mass of blue jackets and caps; he could not make him out.
“Wait men,” he yelled to be heard over the din. With swords and lances raised, they waited until the first attack broke through. He lowered his saber and moved forward. The smell of gun powder hung in the air like death waiting to swoop down and claim another victim.
The order to confront the Russian guns at a trot was madness. They were sitting targets and already under fire.
“Charge!” The cry of his erupted around him as they moved into battle. He swung his sword almost decapitating the first man. Everything slowed. One after the other, he concentrated on killing the enemy in front of him.
Clarke swiveled on his mount and caught the colors of a boy’s coat. He saw David, Adeline’s younger brother. What was he doing out here? He wasn’t ready to fight. Damn him. David went against his explicit orders to stay behind. He was only the bugler, not a trained soldier. He’d never wielded a saber. David was in his unit, his care, just like all the other men, but the boy didn’t even own a saber, instead he held a short blad
e in his hand as he squared off against an enemy.
There were too many men between them to maneuver his horse. Clarke jumped off his mount, and ran towards the boy. Just as the enemy soldier raised his sword, Clarke ran him through. The man looked surprised and crumpled.
He had reached David in time. Clarke pulled his sword free and tried to think of some place to take the boy to safety. He reached for his hand.
Blood sprayed across the front of his coat. At first David only stood there, his hand still in his.
“No!” Clarke cried. He drew his Pepperbox pistol from his coat and fired a ball into the chest of the man behind David. Frantic, he grabbed his gold sash from his waist and tried to staunch the bleeding.
His efforts were lost. David’s heart continued to pump blood through the gaping wound across the boy’s throat.
“Tell my father I died with honor,” David said through a mouth full of blood, before his body went limp.
“No… No, you will not die!” he cried. He only had a moment to grieve before he had to push the body from his lap and continue fighting. His hands slipped in the boy’s blood as he struggled to hold the grip of the saber.
David wasn’t supposed to die… how could he possibly tell Adeline?
“Clarke,” a woman’s voice cried.
There were no women on the battlefield.
“Clarke!” the voice stopped the battle replaying in his nightmare.
He shook his head to clear it and slowly opened his eyes. “Adeline. How… why are you here?” His brain was fogged with sleep and the shots of whiskey he’d downed a few hours earlier.
“Spencer told me what happened. How David died.”
His jaw muscles tightened. “I’m sure he did.”
“Spencer was there, he saw what happened and that you were not responsible in any way. David disobeyed orders to stay behind the lines, only wanting to fight. It was foolish, but he was young. He was already in the fray fighting when you tried to save him.”
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