Two of a Kind

by Sasha Cottman

  Once they were married, Guy expected her to be the hostess of many dinner parties and private soirees, all of which would be designed to aid in his efforts to become not only a member of parliament, but at some future point, a member of the Prime Minister’s inner circle. Guy had his sights set on a cabinet post.

  The modiste gave Mrs. Shepherd a questioning look.

  “Should I take the gown in again, madam?”

  Mrs. Shepherd huffed. “No. Leave it as it is. I shall have our cook add more potatoes to my daughter’s evening meal.”

  “You have to eat Leah. Guy will be expecting you to provide him with a child as soon as possible, and for that you will need your health,” said her mother.

  Leah swallowed the lump in her throat. The thought of sharing Guy’s bed made her feel nauseous. She had experienced enough of his hard kisses to know that he was likely to be the only one enjoying sexual activities in their bedroom. Her place was to learn what pleasured a man and then use it in order to seduce other men. All to further her husband’s political ambitions.

  Mrs. Shepherd brushed a hand over the back of Leah’s neck and whispered into her ear. “Just do as he asks, and all will be well. Give him a few children and he will then do as most men do and find his pleasures elsewhere.”

  Leah rallied and gave her mother a soft smile, but the tired eyes and sunken cheeks staring back at her in the mirror betrayed her deep unhappiness. She turned away for a moment, schooling her features into a socially acceptable bland expression.

  Two more weeks of trying to hold her nerves steady would test her resolve to its limit, but she held onto the promise she had made herself at the betrothal party. Amid all the congratulations and warm wishes for the future, she had come to a fateful decision.

  The fittings and shopping for the forthcoming wedding would continue. But she would not be marrying Guy. Her inspections of the decorating work underway at Guy’s house in Noel Street would go on. But she would not be marrying Guy. She would attend all the ‘at homes’ and lady’s mornings as directed by her mother. But she would not be marrying Guy.

  The wedding gown was a stunning piece of elegant artistry. As with their betrothal party, Guy had insisted on his bride wearing a garment which would be the talk of the town. All eyes would be upon her at the wedding; she could just imagine what the guests would think of the opulent statement Guy Dannon was making with his money. Not a penny was being spared on this wedding. And for that Leah was grateful. Some of those pennies were now being directed to another cause. She had saved a coin here and put a farthing away there. Slowly, she was building a secret stash of money. Money she would use to escape.

  And day after day, as the wedding drew closer, she repeated over and over again the same words in her mind: she would not be marrying Guy.

  “How are you today?”

  Leah shrugged. Her moods these days vacillated between despair and numbness. She was visiting Claire Radley at Fulham Palace, relieved to have a rare afternoon’s respite from her mother.

  Mrs. Shepherd had put more planning into her daughter’s wedding and new home than Wellington had done to overthrow Napoleon. Why, only yesterday she had spent the better part of the day going from drapery to drapery across London in order to find the perfect curtain fabric which would match the green dining setting. Leah had followed, forcing herself to show the suitable amount of interest when it was required.

  Today she could at least walk the grounds of the Bishop of London’s home and not have to worry about the minutiae of curtain fabrics and dinner plates. It was a blessed relief.

  “I’m just content to be out in the fresh air and away from the whole wedding palaver. Guy has decided that we are to attend a ball or a party every night, right up to the week of the wedding. Between him and my mother, I am utterly exhausted,” Leah replied.

  Claire gave her a look of sympathy. “I wish there was something I could do to help you. I thought perhaps at the beginning of all this that you were just a little shy of the idea of marrying Guy. But I have come to the realization that you don’t want to marry him.”

  Leah stopped. She turned and looked back toward the main palace building.

  Fulham Palace dated back many centuries, with the main structure having been built during the Tudor period. While Leah loved the grand residence, it was the famous walled garden that had won her heart. Privacy and peace could be found among the stunning collection of trees, shrubs, and flowers. Privacy which she now valued.

  “Tell me, Claire. Are you serious in wishing to help me or was that just a kindness you offered?” she asked. The last thing she wanted was to put her faith in another of the Radley siblings and have them fail her. She caught the scowl on Claire’s face and shook her head. “I should not have asked. Forgive me.”

  “I am serious. This must be such a trial for you. Leah dearest, I cannot remember the last time I saw you smile,” replied Claire.

  Over the past weeks, she had kept her own counsel, not daring to trust anyone with her secret. And while Claire Radley was her friend, and a young woman with a mind of her own, it remained to be seen if she could be trusted to help with her plan. There would be a real risk to Claire’s reputation if things went awry.

  Leah faltered for a moment, unsure of her next step.

  Claire, meanwhile, remained close. “If your heart is not in this marriage, then tell me what I can do to help. It is torture watching you suffer. Whatever you need, you only have to ask.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  Claire offered her hand and Leah took it in hers. She then placed it over her own heart. A solemn vow between friends.

  “If I am discovered, I swear to keep your name out of this. Nothing of my plans will ever be linked to you or your family. I shall take all knowledge of it to my grave. Will you make the same pledge?” she said.

  Claire nodded slowly. There was a wariness on her face which gave Leah hope. Her friend understood that the plan was not without danger. Leah was not just experiencing a case of pre-wedding jitters.

  “My father is forcing me to marry Guy, but I have decided to run away. I am going to seek refuge with my grandfather, Sir Geoffrey Sydell, in Cornwall. He is the only man I know who is brave enough to take a stand against my father. The only one with the willpower to put a stop to this marriage,” confessed Leah.

  Sir Geoffrey had long been an outspoken critic of his son-in-law. Something which had eventually seen the end of visits to Mopus Manor by the Shepherd family. It had been over two years since Leah had last been with her grandfather. Her father had forbidden her to write to him in the intervening period; and only the occasional message relayed through family friends had kept her informed of his life and health.

  “Alright, so what do you need from me? I will do all I can,” said Claire.

  Leah sighed. It was such a relief to finally be able to share her plans with someone else. She could trust Claire. Now it just remained as to whether her friend could actually render her any real form of assistance.

  Leah knew where the greatest risk lay in her attempt to escape. Keeping it secret from her father and Guy was paramount. “I need money to buy a ticket on the mail coach to Truro. I also need to know exactly where the coach leaves from and at what time. My family and Guy are watching me like hawks. Even the coachman who brought me here today will be questioned as to where we travelled, once I return home,” she said.

  Claire nodded.

  “I have some of my allowance set aside for Christmas gifts. And, of course, I was going to buy you a wedding present. So, I have that money as well. Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I must ask, have you thought this through? I mean really thought it through,” replied Claire.

  Had she thought it through? It was all Leah could think of from the time she woke each morning to the moment she blew out the bedside candle at night. Her whole existence consisted of devising ways she could escape from the clutches of her father and Guy Dannon.

  In defying her fathe
r, she was risking everything. If she succeeded, there was every chance that he would never let her set foot in her home again—that she would be forever an outcast from her family. Leah had no illusions as to her likely fate. For refusing to yield to his command, Tobias Shepherd would sever all ties with his youngest daughter.

  She had considered every possible option that had come to her mind, from the unlikely to the insane. Fleeing to her beloved grandfather was the only one with any real merit. “Believe me, if there were another way out of this marriage, I would take it,” replied Leah.

  “First thing tomorrow, I am going to make discreet enquiries about the mail coach. It’s a good thing James is out of town. I can move about without the worry of him wanting to accompany me. Though we shall have to move fast; he is coming back from Derbyshire early next week in time for the wedding,” said Claire.

  It was music to her ears to hear that James was still out of town. The last thing she needed was for him to discover her scheme and offer his assistance. Knowing how well his first attempt at helping her had gone, she was better off him not knowing anything about her arrangements.

  Because if anyone could throw her plans into disarray, it was James.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leah was being careful in whom she placed her trust. For all her kind thoughts and deeds, even Claire was only permitted to know parts of the escape plan. If things did go awry, Leah could not bear the thought of her friend suffering any sort of repercussions that might follow. She was in no doubt that Tobias Shepherd would find a sly way to make even the daughter of the Bishop of London pay for attempting to meddle in his affairs.

  “The coach leaves midmorning from the Gloucester Coffee House in Piccadilly. If you are able to make your way there, you will only have to hide for a short period until the coach leaves. The ticket office assured me that the coach to Salisbury is never full so you should have no problems in securing a seat,” said Claire.

  The two young women were in Leah’s bedroom a few days later, allegedly looking at fabric samples for redecorating Guy’s house, but in truth they were working on Leah’s plans to escape.

  Claire handed Leah a copy of the mail coach timetable for the west country. Leah read it; and after having memorized the pertinent details, handed it back to Claire. She couldn’t risk her parents discovering it if her father decided to search her room.

  The only time she could be certain of making her escape was on the morning of the wedding. While her parents and Guy were inside the vestry at St George’s, attending to the final wedding paperwork, she would make her move. She would have to hope that her precise planning and a healthy dose of luck would see her make good on her getaway.

  “The time between you leaving the church and when the mail coach departs is the most dangerous. You cannot risk being discovered, so you must disguise yourself as soon as you can after making your way out of St George’s. I brought this with me. I thought it would help.”

  After a quick glance toward the door of Leah’s bedroom, Claire looked at the box she had brought with her. She opened the lid.

  Inside were the fabric samples and trims which they were supposedly discussing. Claire rummaged around in the box, then pulled out a piece of folded black cloth. She quickly handed it to Leah.

  “Hide this somewhere,” she said.

  Leah frowned. “What is it?”

  “One of my mother’s old woolen cloaks. I found it in the back of a wardrobe. It has a large hood which you can use to hide your hair and face. People will take less notice of a woman in a black cloak than they will a young woman in a wedding gown,” replied Claire.

  Leah was momentarily lost for words. It was comforting to know that someone else was trying to help cover all contingencies. She crossed to her bed and lifted the mattress, before stuffing the cloak as far toward the middle of the bed as she could. If her luck held, her maid would not discover it while making up the room.

  “Thank you. I shall return it as soon as possible,” said Leah.

  Claire held out her arms, and the two young women embraced. When Claire pulled back and met Leah’s gaze, Leah saw the tight smile which sat on her lips.

  “Don’t worry about getting the cloak back to me. Just you worry about making it in one piece to Cornwall. Until you are safely at your grandfather’s house, you must not take any sort of unavoidable risks. Leah, it is not worth it,” replied Claire.

  Leah nodded. The wedding was mere days away. Between now and when she arrived at St George’s, she had to hold her nerve. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I hope someday I can repay the favor,” she said.

  Claire smiled. “Your happiness will be all the payment I shall ever need.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  James was up just after dawn. As he finished washing and shaving for the day, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. While the man who looked back at him had a smile on his face, inside, he was a just little ashamed of himself.

  Every other day so far during his stay at Newhall Castle, he had been reluctant to drag his often hungover self from bed much before the hour of ten. This morning, with the trip to Burton-on-Trent foremost in his mind, he was up and about well before he heard the early morning footsteps of the castle servants.

  James’s suspicions about Harry’s behavior had been proven right, and he took no pleasure in that bitter fact. Harry Menzies had indeed ventured to Newhall Castle in an effort to force Caroline into accepting his suit. To no one’s surprise, other than Harry’s, she had refused him.

  Within hours, a furious Francis had packed Harry and himself back off to London, leaving James to stay on at Newhall Castle as Caroline’s chaperone.

  Fortunately, Caroline was coping well in the aftermath of Harry’s unwelcome marriage proposal and was still insistent that James go and spend time with his friends and his sketchbook. In a serendipitous but happy coincidence, the two Tims had sent word that they would be in town on market day and were eager to meet up with James. A small buzz of what could only be described as excitement sat in his stomach. When was the last time he had felt cheerful about anything?

  His box of paints and brushes lay on his bed. He had opened it late the previous night, standing and smiling at them as he’d pictured being able to set brush to canvas and create a new piece of work. The sight of them, along with his sketchbook, made him want to take that giant leap and grasp the future that his heart so desperately craved.

  Through the pure luck of having been born into a wealthy family, he had been gifted with the sort of life choices that many others could only dare to dream about. By dithering over making a decision of what he should be doing with his life, he was wasting that gift. It was an insult to all those less fortunate.

  He slipped his jacket on and headed for the bedroom door. A hearty breakfast was in order to ward off the winter chill. He had woken with a determined heart; he would go to the woodlands to sketch. Julian’s aunt, Lady Margaret, could be asked to stand in his place as chaperone for Caroline. Not that she particularly needed one this far from the prying eyes of London society. And he would only be gone for a day or two.

  An hour after breakfast, Julian, Caroline, James, and Lady Margaret set out for the weekly market at Burton-on-Trent. Lady Margaret sat with a happy smile on her face, but both Julian and Caroline appeared more subdued.

  There was little conversation in the carriage for the first part of the journey. Guilt over his earlier, at times, taciturn behavior finally spurred James into making a start. “I hope you don’t mind me going to see my friends while we are at the market. I must confess that it is purely a selfish thing I am doing in making the trip over to Burton.”

  Julian waved his concerns away. “I would be a terrible host if I kept you from seeing your friends. Do they live in Burton?”

  “No. They are undertaking a series of paintings of the local area. They have a patron who is moving overseas and wishes to take some memories of their home county with them. My
friends sent word yesterday informing me that they will be at The Union Inn in the town square this morning,” he replied.

  Caroline turned from the window and nodded at Julian. “James is a skilled painter in his own right. I am certain that if he was not destined to follow my uncle into the senior ranks of the Church of England, he too would be treading the path of the artist.”

  “Caroline, did you know that Francis had been interested in some of the smaller paintings from my friends and that he had expressed a desire to purchase one or two of them? He was going to show them to the prince of Wales,” asked James.

  “Yes.”

  Her single word reply did not fill him with confidence. He had been hoping that Caroline could shed more light on why Francis had suddenly changed his mind about championing the work of the two Tims to the Prince Regent.

  “So, would you know why he changed his mind about buying them? I only ask because he went from being keen on them one day to refusing to discuss anything about them the very next,” said James.

  Caroline’s gaze drifted to him. Her face was not one of happiness. Perhaps she had developed second thoughts about his going off into the wilds to sketch. “I expect Francis has his reasons. He may not appreciate all your friends the same way you do. Just because they are your chums does not mean that they are his, or mine, for that matter,” she replied.

  While her words were a little cryptic, James was perceptive enough to pick up on the underlying meaning of them. Her remark had him wondering about Timothy Walters. Walters was a member of Caroline’s court of admirers. He was another man who appeared to be always at her beck and call at parties. More than once, James had seen him standing close to Harry Menzies as they’d jostled over who was going to present Caroline with her next glass of champagne. If Walters was on the out with Caroline, he had not made mention of it.