by Allie Borne
“Watch over her, Aunt Lindsay,” she sighed, turning from the window and making her way out to the stables, to see if Harry might take her for the ride he’d promised. The sun shone beautifully and she couldn’t help but turn her face up to it, soaking in its loving caresses. It was there, in front of the stable door, lost in pleasant ecstasy, that she over heard the conversation between Aiden and Charles.
“It seems, then that you are well and truly hooked. You could not have planned this scenario any better, had you tried.”
Laughing, Charles agreed. “Yes. I cannot wait to see the look upon that bastard, Sir Richard’s face when I lay claim to his daughter and demand a hefty dowry for the inconvenience.”
Aiden, too, laughed, full of mirth. “To think he has gone out of his way to rid his daughter of your presence, and now he will pay to give you power over her. Quite ironic, I say. What does Lindsay think of this?”
“Lindsay will have to come to terms with the truth. I am in need of a dowry and a biddable wife. I may have my hands full dealing with Lindsay, but because of her father’s betrayal, I can demand a sizable dowry up front. It is a convenient and satisfying conclusion.”
“And Lindsay is aware of all of this?”
“Which part? My scheming to force the match, or my lack of funds? She is aware of none of it. She will discover our arrangement soon enough.”
Sickened by the unsought revelations, Lindsay grasped her stomach. The emotional pain of Charles’ words swept through her and she felt as if her abdomen would split open, unable to contain the venomous deceit. Silently, she turned and ran back down the path, noiseless tiptoes in slippered feet.
~ ~ ~
After lying in bed, wide awake for more than an hour, Lindsay rang for her maid, Whitney. “Whitney, please try to do something with this hair, and is there anything you can do for these circles under my eyes? I look like a raccoon!” As the abigail brushed Lindsay’s thick mane of hair, working out the worst of the tangles, she babbled on about this and that gossip, not noting that Lindsay clasped her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from shaking.
“So I says to Thomas, I says, you best not be thinking of touching me, you over grown lad, or I will tell the Miss, I says.” When she received no outraged response from the Miss in question, Whitney’s eyes sought her employer’s visage in the vanity mirror. Puffy and red, Lindsay had evidently been sobbing before Whitney’s entrance into the room.
Shaking the dazed Lindsay lightly by the shoulder, she questioned, “Are you all right, Miss? Have you and your Sir Charles had a row? I do so hate it when my James and I quarrel.”
“No, and he is not my Sir Charles, Whitney...but I am afraid I am most unhappy at the moment.”
“I feel for you, Miss, I do. With James away at Mrs. Penchant’s estate, I barely have seen him once a sennight. I have no idea how we will keep on, with no prospects for him here, and I just cannot bear to leave you, my bonny lass, to tend to an elderly widow. It t’would break my heart to go.”
“And yet, it seems your heart is breaking whilst you stay, Whitney.”
“I know,” she nodded, dabbing at a tear with her shirt sleeve. “I am a woman torn in two.”
“Well, I had planned to visit Aunt Bessie this summer. Maybe, maybe we could throw caution aside and go! Would you like to Whitney?”
“Oh, Miss, how I would love it!” Whitney’s chubby cheeks flushed crimson and her brown eyes sparkled.
“What if we were to stay for a while with Aunt Bess, so recently widowed? She might wish for some female companionship.”
Whitney’s face darkened. “Sir Charles and Sir Richard would never allow that, Miss Lindsay, I am quite certain they would want you near them now, with your first season under your belt, they’ll be focusing on a wedding, I’d wager.”
“I have no wish to wed, Whitney. I’d much rather serve as Aunt Bessie’s companion. If they will not let me, I will simply leave before any announcements might be made that would require me to marry. This fiasco with Charles will die away soon enough.”
“And what if he loves you?”
“He does not wish to marry me, Whitney. Why on earth would he? Charles still sees me as a petulant child. I am doing him a favor by leaving.”
“But, my mother always told me, I thought-I thought you loved Sir Charles.”
“I thought I did, Whitney. In some ways I suppose I still do, but he is not the boy he once was. He is now a treacherous man. He thinks my father somehow betrayed him and seeks revenge. He’ll make us both miserable, Whitney.”
“Now, please, I shall perish of angst if I can not get underway soon. Let us pack my things and then you can ready yourself. We must pretend to go for a ride. I have already told Harry that I wanted to ride Doc again today. I will simply ask him to saddle Gus, telling him that I wish for female companionship. He’ll think nothing of it. I can make my excuses at dinner and you can meet me at the stable entrance.”
“If I go, I know that I shall certainly lose my employment through your father. I hope that Mrs. Penchant will not withdraw her offer for my services!”
“I know this is an impetuous and fool hardy, but I cannot just stay and let life happen to me. You know that I must take my fate in my own hands. Your mother was my nanny. She certainly must have told you that I have a tendency to run off when I am provoked. Please believe me when I tell you that I have only ever left to prevent myself or others from doing something, in the heat of the moment, that they might regret.”
“Losing Charles and then my mother has been hard for me, Whitney; you must know that. I just want to find a place where I am wanted-needed. Perhaps Aunt Bess will provide such a place. What do you say?”
“We will go, Miss., but I go with you only because I have always longed for a grand adventure and the end of this journey will bring me to my James. I think it’s the devil’s own choice ye’ make for yerself, Miss Lindsay. How can ye’ say ye’ve lost Sir Charles when he is right there, offering his hand?”
“Marriage must be based in trust, Whitney. I would rather never marry than to marry someone I will grow to detest. Thank you, Whitney, for risking so much for me. You are a true friend!”
~ ~ ~
Even with Whitney’s careful ministrations to Lindsay’s toilette, and their fastidious packing, Lindsay had been down to dinner early. She arrived under the guise of checking over the seating arrangement, in the hopes of catching Leah alone.
Leah wandered into the sitting room with a chattering companion and Lindsay wasted no time joining them. The room grew quiet as Doctor Evers began to recite an Alexander Pope poem:
“Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well?
To bear too tender or too firm a heart,
To act a lover's or a Roman's part?
Is there no bright reversion in the sky
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?”
Beneath the quiet applause, Lindsay grasped Leah’s elbow and whispered in her ear, “Leah, dear, do give everyone my regrets at dinner tonight. I fear I have a terrible megrim and will be lying down in our room to sooth my head.”
Leah squeezed Lindsay’s wrist affectionately, then gave it a soft pat. “It has been a trying day for you,” Leah consoled. “Go, rest. All will be well, you will see.”
Lindsay nodded then quietly quitted the salon. After trudging half way up the first flight of stairs, Lindsay stopped and descended. Peering around the edge of the entry way, she watched Charles enter the sitting room. Lindsay dashed up the stairs, entered her shared bed chamber and quickly scratched out a note to Leah. Not bothering to seal the missive, she quickly folded the letter and laid it on her pillow. Grabbing her small travel bag, she slipped from the room.
Lindsay tiptoed down the narrow servants’ stair and into the vegetable garden. Jogging around the corner, and across the side yard, she approached the stables.
“Harry! Tommy!” she called, as she entered the shadowed interior of the building.
“Why you’re like to give an old man half a fright,” Harold returned, approaching Lindsay. I thought when you didn’t come this afternoon that you had stood me up, lass.”
“Unfortunately, Harold, I cannot ride with you tonight. Something has come up and I need to speak with Thomas.”
“Alright, I’ll fetch the young man. Tommy!”
Lindsay’s time-proven patsy from her youth climbed down from his perch in the hay loft and approached, cocking his head warily. “What be the trouble, Miss?”
“Oh, Tommy do not look at me as if I were up to no good! It has been at least six months since my scheming has caused trouble for you. Besides, I see that your hair has returned to its naturally light hue. Might we let bygones be bygones? I must speak with you about a pressing matter.”
“I am sorry, Miss,” interjected Harry, “but your grandfather, Sir Stewart has given me clear direction that you are not to speak alone with Thomas anymore. You run rough shod over him, Miss. Since he was a tiny lad, your antics have caused him constant taunting. Ever since you stole his clothes from the creek and went gallivanting about the country side, not that we told the master about that, no Miss! But the servants know. Sir Charles sure read Tommy the riot act over that one, he did.”
Thomas stood straighter and looked expectantly at Lindsay.
“Very well, I will have to say my piece in front of Harry, then, Thomas. I have been feeling much out of sorts with the male sex this evening, and I have decided that I will ride out with Whitney instead of you, Harold. Whitney, it seems is also of a like mind, as a certain someone, who shall remain nameless, has been giving her unwanted advances. I hope to use this ride to calm her nerves, as well as my own.
“It would be most unfortunate if the lady were engaged in any conversation during her approach or leave taking at the stables, as I have promised her that she shall have to listen to no more poppycock. Do I make myself clear, Thomas?”
“Aye, Miss.” Tommy hesitated as he looked back at Harry, but continued. “Please, Miss, can you tell Whitney, I meant nothing by it. I only grabbed her hand is all, wanting her to stay and listen to what I had to say. I want to marry her, Miss. She is a right bonny lass, and clever. I know she is above me, having a better position and all, I just thought, it couldn’t hurt to try. She has her heart set on that James, the Mrs. Penchant’s butler. I know it, Miss, but I couldn’t help but hope she’d take me when she saw she couldn’t have the likes o’ him.”
“Thomas, you are a fine man, with a giving heart. You have never let a lady down, even at your own peril. You deserve a lass who will love you first and only. Don’t settle for being second best. I swear I never shall!”
“I know that is true, Miss,” Harry interjected, “but, not all of us have the gall to risk having nothing, in the hope of gaining everything our heart desires.”
“For me, it is everything, or nothing. I cannot bear a sliver of happiness. To be shown the wonder of love but have to look at it from the doorway, to not be welcomed in, it can destroy a person, Harry.”
“Aye, Miss. But who is it that does the welcoming, then? Someone must take the risk, it seems to me.”
“Someone stronger than me, I suppose, dear Harold. Now, I must be off, I see Whitney coming down the path and she’ll want to mount at the fence, no doubt. Don’t expect us back anytime soon. We plan to ride along the periphery of the farm lands. I promised Whitney we would see the new calves.”
“Your father will have my head if he knows I am allowing you out without a male escort. Allow me to follow you, at a decent distance, Miss. I’ll not listen in on your women’s talk, I assure you.”
“No, Harry. Much as I adore you, I cannot abide another male breathing down my neck for one more instant. I will snap, I tell you!”
“Then be careful, Miss. If you are not back by dark, I’ll be out to the cow pasture to check on ya’.”
“Thank you, Harry, we shall be most careful.”
Chapter Five- Pursuit
"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend."
~ William Blake, 18th Century Poet
Charles was disappointed, but not surprised, when Lindsay did not make an appearance at dinner. Her embarrassment and angst was to be expected. Lindsay had a tendency to pout when she did not get her way. This afternoon, Charles recalled, smiling, had most certainly gone his way.
After dinner, Lady Elizabeth Beaumont wasted no time excusing herself and the other women, so that Sir Richard might withdraw with Charles to the study. When Sir Stuart stood to join them, Charles looked at Aiden, who also rose to join the ensemble.
The four gentleman made there way into the small study and stood, facing one another. Sir Richard moved behind his desk but did not take his seat. “How is it that, after four years, you are back at the first opportunity for more punishment? Did I not make myself clear the first time ‘round? My daughter is not for the likes of you.”
Charles took two strides toward Sir Richard before Aiden caught his arm, holding him back. “You are an evil, sadistic man, Beaumont. You have your wife committed and then have me impressed into the navy to cover up your misdoings. Well, your wife may not have survived your maltreatment, but, unlucky for you, I have.
“This time,” Charles raised his voice as he warmed to his subject, “there are witnesses and you will act as I demand, or suffer the consequences. Lindsay and her dowry are mine. I claim them by rights of a man wronged by you these four years hence, and by the evidence of her own willingness to accept my attentions.”
“I do not concede. You have taken advantage of my daughter’s trust in you not once, but twice now, and I will not reward your villainous behavior by handing her over to your mishandling.”
“How have I ever wronged your daughter? I told you afore and I tell you again, Sir Richard, that I have never before today laid a lustful hand upon your daughter.”
“You told me no such thing. You admitted your impropriety when last we met.”
“I admitted only the impropriety of meeting with her at night, without a chaperone. That impropriety was of a necessity, seeing as how you had planned to ship her mother off to the sanitarium the very next day! She came only to beg for my assistance, which I offered by coming to speak with you on Lindsay’s behalf.”
“I was rewarded by being knocked out and deposited at the nearest navy vessel. You owe me four years of my life back. You will pay recompense by giving me Lindsay, and two thousand pounds.”
“What? Why that’s highway robbery! I had planned to settle half that much and be gracious in doing so.”
“Two thousand pounds or I go to the London newspapers and tell them what you did to me and to your wife.”
“You press your luck, Charles,” Sir Richard ground out, his hands shaking in impotent rage. “I had every right as a husband and a father to act in the best interest of my family. You have no right to make private affairs public.”
“Then we are agreed. I will wed Lindsay in three weeks time, once the banns have been read and the money transferred.”
“And what guarantee have I that you will not then share your tale with others?”
“You have my word of honor. I, for one, have not sacrificed mine for political success and convenience.”
“And I have not achieved my success by leaving my circumstances to chance. Let me warn you, Sir Charles, that I make it my business to know many unsightly things about as many of the gentry as possible. This trait has served me well. It just so happens that I have evidence you are not your father’s get, and therefore, not the true heir and Baronet.”
“Lies!” Charles bellowed, stepping forward and punching Sir Richard with a right hook to the jaw.”
Sir Richard swayed, then rallied, pulling his handkerchief from his vest pocket and dabbing at his bleeding nose. “Tis true enough. Your mother was betrothed to a Mister Randolph, a wealthy wine merchant and friend of mine. He personally regaled me with stories of your mother’s talents in the bedroom.
Unfortunately for her, the man died two weeks before the wedding date. Seeing as how she had anticipated the nuptials, she was forced to marry quickly, and to a far less prosperous man of genteel but lesser means.”
“You were born just seven months later. Check my story if you do not believe me. Others will, I warrant. Especially those that stand to benefit from inheriting your title.”
“I will marry your daughter, whether you blacken my name or not. Lindsay and the dowry are mine.”
“I will concede them to you, with the clear warning that even a hint of scandal from your godforsaken corner of the country and I will personally request an inquisition into the legitimacy of your birthright.”
Charles was stunned. Sir Richard seemed to be in ernest. “That includes,” Sir Richard smiled devilishly, “telling Lindsay about what has transpired between us.”
Charles sputtered. “You expect me to wed Lindsay, without telling her that I did not leave of my own accord; that I did not betray her for my own personal gain?”
“That is precisely what I expect. It would really be ungentlemanly of you to portray her father in a bad light, when I only acted in her best interest. How was she to make an advantageous match with you and her mother hovering on the periphery, compromising her reputation?”
“With her looks and sophistication, she could have easily married above her station, to a man active in the House of Lords.”
“That is what this all boils down to? Your political aspirations?! You sicken me! Sir Stuart, have your man of business draw up the contract immediately. I will have this signed and done with within the hour, and forget reading the banns. I want Lindsay out of this house tonight. Lindsay and I will be married immediately, by special license. I procured one the moment I learned of my new title and will now put it to good use.”
“Sir Charles, please do not be so hasty. While my son’s acts have been misguided, my wife and I have given Lindsay nothing but our love and protection. Do not pull her so suddenly from the only home she has ever known-”
