Lady of a Recluse Earl

by Mirella Tinley

  “You are a foolish little girl, Miss Nightingale,” he spat. “You know nothing of this world, or the value of a man’s possessions. I see your little guard-dog jumping to your defence. I see your sister scurrying into the woods each morning, either taking a letter or receiving a letter. I see the nature of this absurdity before me,” he hissed, gesturing between Emmy and Mr Smith.

  “And now, it seems, you have forced my hand. I shall have to make your sordid little secret known to the rest of your family. Surely, then, I shall find myself in a better position for negotiation, for who could wish to have a tainted wife by their side? Your father will undoubtedly just give you to me, should I lay out such terms.” A cold smile crept onto his face, his words evidently bringing his dark soul delight.

  “There is no secret to tell, Lord Fitzroy,” Emmy returned, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “I have not tainted myself. I am as pure as the day I was born. This man you see before you is a kind friend who has come to my aid in a moment of peril where I feared for my own life as well as that of my sister. He has done nothing wrong, and nor have I. The only one in the wrong here is you.”

  Another cruel smiled turned up the thin lips of James. “And who shall your father believe, when I tell him of your repugnant misdeeds?”

  “I would not care to presume, Lord Fitzroy. Perhaps my father would believe you. However, speaking of the value of a man’s possessions, I am almost entirely certain that Lord Hodge would have something to say about what you attempted to do to his wife,” Emmy said, holding the viscount’s gaze fiercely.

  “I mean, who is to say that you were simply trying to wrest something from her hands? I myself am a witness, and I could not be sure of what I saw. I have heard that there are men in this world who would seek to take something from a woman that does not belong to them, regardless of their marital status. Are you such a man, Lord Fitzroy? More importantly, do you think my sister and I could persuade Lord Hodge of you being such a man?”

  James’ face turned a bright shade of red, to the point where Emmy thought his head might explode.

  For a long while, he said nothing, the silence stretching between the tense quartet. It was evident there was much he would have liked to have said, but even in his rage there was some scrap of propriety left within the man.

  “I think matters have all become a little heated. Wouldn’t you say so, Miss Nightingale?” he said at last, taking a deep breath in.

  He was rattled, Emmy could tell. “Perhaps we should all retire to bed and forget this evening ever happened. I know I should like to.”

  “I think that would be a wise idea, Lord Fitzroy,” Emmy replied, holding her ground whilst James turned and walked away from the walled gardens, his hands balled into fists. Everything about his body language screamed fury, but Emmy knew she would not have to confront such anger head-on. Not tonight, anyway.

  “Would you like any assistance, Miss Emmeline?” Mr Smith asked, his voice calming her wrought nerves.

  She smiled kindly. “No thank you, Mr Smith. I should see my sister to her chambers,” she said softly, aware that Nora was listening. “I am eternally grateful for the assistance you have already given this evening, Mr Smith. It shall not be forgotten,” she promised, hoping he could sense the intent in her eyes as she said those words.

  “It was my duty and my honour, Miss Emmeline,” Mr Smith replied. “Lady Hodge, rest well. I wish you a swift recovery.”

  With a low bow, he turned and headed for the woods, his figure disappearing into the shadows.

  With all the chaos that would likely ensue the following day, Emmy didn’t know when she might see him again. She felt her heart wrench as he walked away, knowing her gratitude would have to wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Heated pursuit

  Chapter 19

  Emmy rose early the next morning and hurried to her sister’s room, knocking gently before entering. She wanted to check on Nora before they went down to breakfast, to prevent the rest of their family being suspicious of the previous night’s activities.

  Nora was already awake, sitting at the window seat, gazing out at the golden horizon, the sun still rising. She turned, tears glittering in her dark eyes, as Emmy entered.

  The sight surprised Emmy, prompting her to run to her elder sister and sink to her knees, clutching Nora’s hands tightly.

  “Dear sister, whatever is the matter?” she asked, looking up at Nora.

  “It is a sorry state I have found myself in, Emmy,” she whispered in response, squeezing Emmy’s hands.

  Emmy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “To find that violence no longer surprises me, Emmy,” she explained, her words drowning in heartbroken sorrow.

  “For a moment, last night, I felt the world go black… and I was glad of it,” she gasped, choking down a sob. “I did not want to wake again.”

  Emmy stared in abject horror at her elder sister’s words, unable to bear the sound of them. They were so utterly despondent and impossibly sad that they overwhelmed Emmy’s senses, prompting tears to prickle in her own eyes.

  “You must never say that. Without you, this entire world means so very little,” Emmy insisted, kissing her sister’s hands. “I would be a lost soul without you to steer me through this life. I hate what these men have done to you! I hate it! You are the sweetest of all beings and ought to be treated like the most precious of treasures. Mama gave you to an unworthy soul, and I shall never forgive her for it!”

  Tears rolled freely down Emmy’s cheeks as she smothered her sister’s palms in tender kisses, wanting each one to forge a tiny fibre that would bind Nora to the living world, to keep her from slipping away into the darkness of despair.

  Nora wept quietly, her shoulders shaking, her chin pressed to her chest, her dark eyes closed. “I do not know that I shall, either, dearest sister. I promised myself I would make the best of it, but the thought of my husband returning brings such fear to my heart,” she admitted softly through wracking sobs.

  “The viscount’s hands on my throat last night… it reminded me of all I have to look forward to. I have lived a fantasy in his absence, imagining myself to be free. I see, once more, that I am on borrowed time until he returns to claim what is his,” she murmured desperately.

  “Allow me to speak with Mama and Papa,” Emmy urged. “Allow me to tell them of your troubles. Surely, they would not permit you to return to such a demon?”

  Nora shook her head slowly. “Mama knows,” she whispered.

  “What?” Emmy gasped.

  “Mama saw Hugh’s hand around my throat shortly before his return to Fallow Manor, his hand raised to strike me. She said nothing… She turned her face away and walked back the way she had come. In the drawing room the following day, finding me alone, she warned me of igniting the darker side of men’s passions and insisted I endure—that I be meek and docile so I do not rile him again. She has said nothing more since.” Nora’s face seemed to crumple as she brought Emmy’s hands to her own lips and kissed them softly.

  Emmy was horrified. She knew her mother had certain ideas about things and was painfully old-fashioned, in a sense, but she had never expected Lady Nightingale to simply stand by and do nothing whilst her eldest daughter was brutalised in such an abhorrent manner.

  Knowing that, Emmy suddenly realised that a streak of violence would do nothing to prevent Lady Nightingale from continuing to arrange a match between Emmy and James.

  “I will not let you return with him, Nora,” Emmy insisted.

  Nora smiled, visibly gathering the pieces of herself back together. “There is nothing you can do to stop it, Emmy,” she said gently, stroking the side of Emmy’s face.

  “However, I can see to it that you are happy in your life. It shall be my one joy until the day I am blessed with children. I swear to you, Emmy, I shall not rest until you are wed to a man you truly love. I will not see Mama ruin another life,” she continued, a bitter determination resona
ting in her words.

  “Then I shall wish Hugh Hodge an extraordinarily short life,” said Emmy darkly.

  “I already do,” Nora admitted, her expression hardening.

  It was not like Emmy to have such macabre and disturbing thoughts, but she could not stand the idea of Nora remaining married to a brute like Hugh a moment longer than she had to.

  Divorce was possible, but Emmy knew that Hugh would never agree to it. Nora was his prize. As far as he was concerned, he could do with her as he pleased, so long as he trod a delicate line.

  If Nora herself strove for divorce, she would be left with nothing.

  No, there was nothing she could do but leave it up to fate.

  Brushing away the remains of sorrowful tears, and rallying their hearts to the trials of the day, Emmy took her sister’s hand and drew her out of the chambers, down towards the dining room, where breakfast was already arranged.

  Lord and Lady Nightingale were sitting at the table, as was James, who mustered a wide smile as the two sisters entered. Somehow, he had managed to clear up his bloody nose and cover the bruise that had been blossoming beneath his right eye.

  Peering closer, Emmy could see the faint hint of a powder covering the spot where the shiner ought to have been.

  Jasper and Francis were nowhere to be seen, but they had taken to rising late since James had been at the house, undoubtedly wishing to avoid him as much as they could.

  Emmy braced herself for a tirade of insults and upset from her mother and father, who would no doubt have spoken with the viscount and believe her to have brought disgrace upon the family name. However, the slurs and anger never came.

  “Good morning, my darlings,” said Lord Nightingale kindly, flashing Emmy and Nora a warm, genuine smile. “I trust you both slept well after retiring so early last night? Nothing quite like an early night, is there, to refresh the spirits and the mind?”

  Emmy glanced discreetly at Nora, who looked just as confused as Emmy felt.

  “Very refreshed, Papa,” said Emmy swiftly, thinking fast.

  “Excellent! You know, I might do the same this evening. I have been staying up much too late these days, and I feel it is playing havoc with my constitution,” Lord Nightingale remarked before returning to his plate of eggs and bacon.

  “Lord Fitzroy was just saying how pleasant the flowers are in the walled garden,” Lady Nightingale chimed in, partway through buttering a slice of toast. “Why, I was just saying to Mr Noakes yesterday what a superb job he had done with the flowers there. Glorious blooms—certainly the finest in Cheshire, I should say,” she ventured proudly, biting into the crisp toast.

  James smiled like a cat who had just got its paws on the cream. He was taunting Emmy, trying to get a reaction from her. Well, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Beside her, Nora had gone quite pale, her eyes fixed on James’.

  “They are exceptional this year, Mama. Indeed, I was just admiring them myself only yesterday,” Emmy returned brazenly, daring James to say something.

  Instead, he raised an eyebrow, evidently surprised by Emmy’s defiance. There was a hint of amusement there too, though it was clear that the pair of them had reached an impasse.

  For James to say a word about it would put him in a sticky situation with the Nightingales, given the violence he had shown toward Nora, and for Emmy to say anything would cause untold trouble for herself, Nora, and Mr Smith, where the letters were concerned. Indeed, they were at quite the stalemate.

  “Perhaps, Miss Nightingale, you might do me the honour of taking a turn about the walled gardens after breakfast? I should be delighted to accompany you, if you would permit me,” James said, smirking ever-so slightly. He knew she couldn’t say no in front of her mother.

  Delightedly, Lady Nightingale clapped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful! It is glorious weather for it, Lord Fitzroy—the heavenly aromas should be in full force by the time the pair of you find yourselves out there, wandering amongst the blooms,” she cried.

  “Honora, you shall provide a chaperone, yes?” she asked, though it was evidently not a question.

  Nora nodded gently. “I should be delighted to, Mama.”

  “How splendid!” Lady Nightingale sighed happily.

  Emmy could see the additional thought running across her mother’s features: Soon I shall have two daughters married!

  Emmy swore to herself then and there that it would not be James. It would never be him.

  After a breakfast through which Lady Nightingale did most of the talking, with cold glances passing between Emmy and James, the former stood to leave the table, only for the latter to follow close behind.

  “It is time for our walk, is it not, Miss Nightingale?” he asked, loud enough for Lady Nightingale to notice, reminding Emmy of her promise.

  Emmy smiled tightly. “But of course, Lord Fitzroy; I would not have forgotten such a thing.”

  Nora stood sharply and came to Emmy’s side, slipping her arm through her sister’s. Unified, there was nothing James could do to intimidate her, and Emmy could tell he knew it.

  With a cold smile, they walked together through the house and out into the gardens.

  Emmy felt the warm sun on her face, allowing it to bolster her spirits. With her eyes turning absently towards the woods, she thought of Mr Smith and the way he had swooped in to help her.

  She thought of his strength and the skill with which he had taken down James and wondered where it came from.

  The mysteries that surrounded Mr Smith still intrigued her, though she did not know if she would ever be able to scratch the surface of the man beneath.

  In their letters, he had always avoided personal details about himself, leaving her to constantly guess at what had brought him to Davenham Park and what had left the haunted expression in his strange, blue eyes.

  It was something big; she knew that much.

  Nora held back as they came to the entrance to the walled gardens, though she was never far from Emmy’s sight as the younger sister took the viscount’s proffered hand and began to stroll around the beautiful flower beds, smelling the heady perfume they gave off.

  She did not like the cold, unpleasant smoothness of his hand beneath hers, but she endured it in case her mother was watching from somewhere in the house.

  After a short length of silence, James began to speak. “I should still like you to be my wife, Miss… Miss Emmeline if I may, despite the unfortunate proceedings that have gone on between us. There is much I have to offer a woman such as yourself, especially given your less-than-proper actions.”

  “I am not certain what you mean, Lord Fitzroy,” said Emmy, her tone blasé.

  “Let us not kid one another, Miss Emmeline,” James replied tersely. “I know your affections lie elsewhere, but it is something I am willing to overlook. I have seen that vulgar little creature loitering about the place in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you. Perhaps your affections are not as strong as his, but I know when a man has fallen for a woman, and I can see that expression on his pathetic features.”

  Emmy was disgusted and delighted in equal measure to hear James speaking in such a way about Mr Smith.

  It lifted her hopes that Mr Smith adored her as much as she adored him, though she resented the viscount speaking about him in such base terms. Mr Smith was ten times the man that James was.

  In truth, Emmy did not think he even had the right to utter Mr Smith’s name.

  “Again, Lord Fitzroy, you have me at a complete loss. I do not understand what you are referring to,” she returned casually, refusing to look into his steely eyes.

  “Be that as at it may, I do not hold any ill will towards you for feeling such things, Miss Emmeline,” he said.

  “You are young, and infatuations are rife amongst women such as yourself. Your generation read too many novels; you get flights of fancy in your minds and think the world a kinder place than it is. Should you be willing to conclude your current infatuation, I would certai
nly entertain the idea of making you Lady Fitzroy,” he explained, though there was no warmth in his voice.

  “I have an excellent income, a beautiful house, and I should like to see you on my arm and call you mine.”

  There was a worrying note in his words, making her feel like a piece of meat to be bartered and sold to the highest bidder.

  “That is most kind of you, Lord Fitzroy, but I do not share your enthusiasm,” she countered brazenly. “I should not like to see myself as Lady Fitzroy.”

  “Your mother is keen to see such a thing, Miss Emmeline, and I trust she has more sway over the matter than you do,” James warned.

  Emmy turned to look him square in the face. “Even so, I should not deign to accept any proposal you are willing to offer, Lord Fitzroy.”