Compromised Into Marriage (HQR Historical)

by Liz Tyner

  The man stepped beside them and clamped his fingers around Vivian’s arm, causing pain.

  ‘Burton. Burton...’ he shouted. ‘Help us.’

  ‘I have her,’ Mavis said, shaking his grasp loose and holding Vivian. ‘She’s better now. We don’t need help. Just a place for her to rest.’

  Mavis half-lifted her up the stairs, her voice guiding Vivian.

  ‘The light chamber,’ the older man called out.

  Vivian knew she could hardly walk a few steps more, but she didn’t care. At least if she died here, it would be a change of scenery.

  Once they got to the room, Mavis took Vivian’s pelisse and reticule, and helped her get comfortable in a chair. Then, she pinched Vivian.

  Vivian jerked away. ‘Mavis, if you pinch me one more time, I’m going to cut the ties off all your bonnets.’

  ‘Fine, Miss Vivian. You’ve got us shelter in the last place I’d want to shelter. This’ll take some coin to keep the servants quiet to your mother when she returns. If your father discovers this, he will toss me out on my ear and no one will be able to stop him. We should never stay overnight.’ She crossed her arms. ‘You must take a deep breath, gather your last vestiges of strength and we must go.’

  Vivian pulled her arm back. ‘So, I am not even to choose where I am to die.’

  ‘Not unless you choose your family home.’ Mavis tapped her arm. ‘Don’t speak nonsense about dying. I will not hear of it. You heard the Earl—that man must have been the Earl. He said the servants trust the hag’s treatments. But then, so did his wife and she is no longer with us.’

  Vivian drew in a deep breath. ‘I can imagine whispers of this getting about. You know I would not be here if I weren’t ill. Besides, you should be able to convince the other servants to keep silent about this trip. Give them a bottle of Father’s wine. He’ll not notice it because he’ll think he drank it.’

  ‘He’s trying to keep himself from the wine. That is the reason he agreed to go with your mother. To get a fresh start. He knows he tipples too much.’

  Vivian surveyed her reticule. Her father had never been foxed so much until she became ill. Then, the drink seemed to take over.

  Her illness wasn’t just destroying her. It had captured her family.

  She scrambled for the reticule ties, jerking them open, and removed the thorns, unable to feel the pricks on her skin now.

  ‘Vivian...’ Mavis’s voice was hesitant, but when she saw what Vivian was doing, she lurched forward, trying to pull the thorns from Vivian’s grasp. ‘I didn’t realise how tattered Ella Etta would appear. I cannot trust her.’

  Vivian stepped back. ‘She surely felt sorry for my frailty and planned to soothe my mind, trying to give me a pleasant tale to think of before I slept—a handsome man to marry. Hope is a pleasant thing to give someone. Better than a curse.’

  ‘That could be poison.’

  ‘Then I will die quicker and the question of whether I will recover will be solved.’

  ‘That is nonsense.’ Mavis reached for the thorns again, but Vivian kept them from her reach.

  ‘It is my last chance for life. I will take it.’ Vivian retained the bundle.

  Mavis backed away. ‘I am pleased you still wish to live. After the accident, when you were struggling, I feared you didn’t want to get well.’

  Vivian didn’t hide the wistfulness in her voice. ‘I do want to dance a waltz at a ball and wear a silk gown. I do want to live. I am tired of waiting until I am better, or of waiting until I die. I am tired of waiting.’

  Mavis sniffled. ‘You cannot talk of death, Vivian. You are your parents’ life. It will kill us all if anything happens to you.’

  A knock sounded at the door. Vivian called out, ‘Enter.’

  A servant marched in, mob cap crisp on her head while her silver hair hung limp. Her apron covered her dark dress and lingering smells of the kitchen surrounded her. ‘I see to the house for the Earl. Tonight, would you prefer a tray or to eat...’ her voice lowered and she rushed her words ‘...in the dining room?’

  ‘My companion and I would prefer the dining room, of course.’ Vivian knew her chin tilted up as well as any royal’s.

  The housekeeper ignored the movement. ‘I heard the Earl’s voice when you arrived. Be glad he warned you away from that thieving, scrabbling vagrant and her family which scuffles around the countryside like vultures, but without the same goodness in ’em. Rothwilde has the kindness of the saints to let them live on his property.’

  ‘I can’t believe they’re murderous,’ Vivian said. ‘They’d be hanged.’

  ‘Who’s to say a few haven’t been led to the gallows from time to time? You’ll stay far away from ’em if you know what’s good.’ The housekeeper got caught up in her tale. ‘It’s said Ella Etta even gets mixtures from the apothecary and stirs them into something else. I think she plans to poison us all. I know the other servants trust her, but I don’t. Whenever her troop is in the area, half the fruit from the orchard disappears. Sometimes even the root crops go missing and not because of a rabbit.’

  ‘Why isn’t she brought to a Court of Petty Sessions by the Earl, or held for the Assizes?’ Vivian asked.

  The housekeeper nodded. ‘If the Earl runs them vagabonds away or brings one to justice, they’d probably burn the house while we sleep or curse us all. They’re like a nest of bees and we don’t stir ’em up.’

  ‘Makes me long for London and the friendly cutpurses,’ Vivian said.

  The housekeeper nodded. ‘The city’s far safer, I’d expect.’ She moved to the mirror, took out a cloth and wiped the glass as if wiping away the reflection of anyone she might not wish to see.

  Then she went to the door, still holding the cleaning cloth, and put her empty hand on the wood. She paused and with no subservience in her gaze, said, ‘Then it will be the three of you for dinner. The Earl’s estate work will be keeping him busy tonight and he won’t be joining you.’

  ‘Three?’

  ‘The eldest son is here.’ She watched Vivian. ‘I suppose he returned because it gets tiresome being unmarried, happy in that state, and finding oneself the object of pursuit.’

  ‘Goodness...’ Vivian widened her eyes. ‘How fortunate for me to be able to meet an unmarried son of an earl. I am indeed blessed.’

  The housekeeper gave a swift perusal of Vivian, then snapped her cloth before she tucked it back in her apron. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch you when it’s time to eat.’

  The housekeeper walked out and Mavis lowered her voice, muttering to Vivian, ‘She believes you’re in pursuit of a husband, not health.’ She gave a nod to the door after the housekeeper closed it. ‘I don’t like her. She’s above herself. Acts like the lady of the house.’

  ‘She is uppity and not in a nice way as you are.’

  ‘I might have stretched the truth to get my job as your governess. I realised my good fortune at landing such a post and did the best I could to please your mother and do right by you.’

  Mavis absently straightened the tablecloth. ‘It touched my heart when your mother wanted me to stay on as your companion when you’d blossomed into a young woman and I wasn’t needed as a governess. Best home I’ve ever been in and I’m not only referring to the quality of the wall coverings. I don’t want to talk to you about all I’ve seen before I joined your family. Let you stay innocent. Life is hard enough. Those references your mother saw for me... She didn’t check them as close as she should have.’

  Vivian studied her companion.

  ‘That old beggar...there but for the grace of forgery go I.’

  ‘You could be sacked, Mavis.’

  ‘I likely will be by your father—if he finds out about this. I shouldn’t have listened to Mrs Rush.’ She saw Vivian’s expression and Mavis softened her tone. ‘But, it’s said the old drifter is as good as any physician. Mr
s Rush told me the old woman’s fee would be based on what she thought we could afford.’

  ‘Ella Etta didn’t ask for funds...’

  ‘No. Just a marriage to an earl’s son.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘Ella Etta likely has more tricks in her head than she has brains, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know her remedies.’

  Vivian studied the thorns. ‘That potion is my last hope.’

  But if Everleigh kissed her a few more times, she wouldn’t mind so badly if the potion was worthless.

  Chapter Four

  When she walked into the dining room, the first thing Vivian saw was Everleigh. He rose when she and Mavis entered.

  Candles were set on a table which would seat ten people.

  The aroma of baked lamb wafting in the air didn’t dispel the darkness created by the heavy curtains, and the walls were bare except for unlit sconces.

  His lips stopped before he formed his first word of greeting, then he gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘I believe we have met before, ladies,’ he said as Mavis walked in behind Vivian.

  ‘I didn’t realise the travellers might be dear friends.’ He bowed briefly, giving both a kiss of the hand as greeting.

  Mavis laughed. ‘Keep your distance, Lord Everleigh. I’ve just recovered from our first meeting.’

  ‘Please, both of you, my friends call me Everleigh,’ he said. ‘The day we first spoke was too eventful for us to remain formal.’

  Everleigh touched Vivian’s elbow and he guided her to the first chair to the right of the head of the table. ‘My father has asked me to be host tonight. He’s at a meeting with his tenants. They’re discussing agricultural changes to increase crop yields and he wanted to get their views.’

  He helped her sit and she felt the brush of his knuckles as he slid the chair forward. Even if the medicinal didn’t make her better, being close to Everleigh made her feel stronger.

  Then he helped Mavis to her chair, and next he summoned a servant.

  He left the host’s position empty and sat beside Mavis.

  Vivian assessed him and he caught the question in her perusal. He answered, softly. ‘I never sit in his chair, at this house. He is Rothwilde and that is where he sits.’

  Vivian nodded, accepting his words.

  Everleigh’s lips had a tiny bracket on each side.

  ‘To what act of good fortune might I owe your presence?’ His voice, perfect, soft warmness and, underneath, strength.

  ‘Your housekeeper told us about the medicinals of the woman who lives nearby.’ Vivian moved slightly as a footman placed a large, filled platter on the table. ‘I’d hoped her herbs could provide some assistance in my illness.’ She placed her hand at the side of her plate. ‘What trust do you put in her?’

  He lifted his glass, and took a sip before answering. ‘As a child, I used to anticipate her returning to the property with excitement. I have no difficulty with her. The tenants trust her mixtures and stay in her good graces. To me, she has been almost like an aunt, but not an aunt my family would ever accept into the household. It’s not possible for her to keep from speaking her mind.’

  ‘Might she put a curse on someone?’

  A glimmer of humour passed across his face, but fell away. ‘She would claim to.’ He shrugged. ‘She has her own set of rules...like most people I assume. A capable, travelling sort, who would get a young boy to steal fruit for her and enjoy it as an adventure. The servants, for the most part, have no problem with her presence. She provides them with herbals, teas, advice and fortune telling for no charge but a blind eye to the rabbits and birds she and her group take. My father tolerates the clan. They don’t pilfer anything but food. If some extra hands are needed for a short time, the men and women at the camp are quick to accept the work.’

  Then he regarded Mavis and said, ‘In case you are wondering, my driver is careful now not to pull up near anyone on the street.’

  Mavis laughed and they began to discuss the confusion they’d experienced after the vehicle door crashed open.

  While the conversation continued around her, Vivian’s thoughts kept returning to the kiss. He hardly seemed the same person, but he still drew her contemplation.

  She’d kissed him and all thoughts of any part of him but his lips fled. Just thinking of it caused a warmth in her chest. She examined the food in front of her so he could not observe her face—just in case her feelings showed.

  She’d not known how much she would dwell on the kiss. Yet he seemed unaffected by it and unaware of how much it had touched her. She supposed she should be thankful for that—but she wasn’t.

  Everleigh stood when the meal ended. He offered his arm to Vivian. ‘I should show you the library, although it’s picked over. You might find a book you’d like.’

  * * *

  When they got to the room, she noticed it didn’t have a comforting old book smell, but an aroma of tobacco. An open box sat on a table and several cheroots lay inside it.

  A large portrait of the most arresting beauty Vivian had ever seen hung over the fireplace. She had Everleigh’s blue eyes, although they didn’t seem to fit her somehow. Something about them almost jarred her. His mother had a stare exactly like Everleigh’s and it showed in the painting. On him, the expression blended into who he was and added to his attraction. On her, it overpowered her loveliness.

  ‘My mother,’ he said, almost making two sentences from the words.

  ‘She’s lovely.’ The perfection couldn’t have all been the work of a complimentary brush stroke.

  Everleigh swept his view past Vivian. ‘I believe she was only seventeen—or somewhere around that age—when the portrait was painted. It was finished a week before her wedding.’

  ‘She does appear angelic.’

  ‘I’ve heard several say they’ve never seen anyone before or since who had her beauty. My grandfather adored her. His beloved daughter. She could do nothing wrong as far as he was concerned. He was a broken man when she died. She contracted a cough and, within hours, she was gone. We didn’t have time to find a physician or the herbalist. It was that quick.’

  Everleigh returned to a discussion of the artwork. ‘But to her child—I suppose a mother could be unattractive and still a goddess. She died when she was still young. I’m pleased to have the painting as a reminder. Now, I’m a decade older than she was when she sat for the artist.’

  ‘A tragedy.’ Vivian examined the portrait. ‘When you observe the painting, you almost feel you know her.’

  Everleigh had some similarity in his other features to the painting, but not a great deal. His mother’s were feminine and, if the portrait had been closer, an observer might have reached out to touch it, to see if it were real, or to see if her loveliness could be absorbed from the canvas.

  Then Everleigh changed the subject, asking about the condition of the roads on the way, showing concern that Vivian’s family might worry and offering to send a rider to let them know she was well.

  Vivian shook her head, telling Everleigh that neither her mother nor her father were at home. It would not go well if a servant contacted her father and informed him that she was gone.

  She and Mavis had given the maids their leisure for the evening. Since Vivian had expected to be late, she’d told the servants not to attend to them in the morning unless they were summoned.

  ‘The time has flown,’ Everleigh said. ‘Please let me send someone to the stables to tell your driver that you will be staying the night. In darkness, it’s hard for a carriage driver to see the road as well and the horses will be better for the rest.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful,’ Vivian said.

  Mavis squinted at her. ‘Such a surprising offer. We should hate to impose on you so much.’

  ‘No imposition at all.’

  ‘Vivian is still tired from the trip,’ Mavis said, standing near
one of the large overstuffed chairs.

  ‘Nonsense. I’m refreshed.’ Vivian stood nearer the portrait, but turned her back to it. ‘I want to continue my good fortune of having the most interesting day I’ve had in some time.’

  ‘You’ve not had any days of note recently?’ Everleigh asked and Vivian saw the imp in him as he appraised her, giving a small challenge.

  Mavis spoke quickly, her voice stern, and lips in a straight line. ‘I would say the day of my fall was eventful. You have mused over that more than once.’

  ‘That is exactly the day I was referring to as well.’ Laughter hid behind Everleigh’s words. His brows rose in silent comment and innocence flashed.

  Vivian refused to think of the incident, because she knew if she did, her cheeks would truly ignite. Instead, she nodded. ‘I’m so thankful it was not worse.’

  Everleigh put a hand to his chest and, with the slightest movement, acted as if an arrow had pierced him. ‘Mrs Mavis and Miss Darius, for both of you, I’m certainly pleased it was not...’ he appraised Vivian ‘...worse.’

  ‘I suppose I should stay as your chaperon, but this day has been a thorny one.’ Mavis patted back the strand of hair that had escaped from her bun. ‘I am too old to stay awake much longer, but you two can sit and read.’

  * * *

  ‘Mavis,’ Vivian cautioned.

  Everleigh understood Vivian’s view. Propriety demanded a chaperon.

  Mavis stared at the Earl’s son. ‘You leave the door open, Everleigh.’ She tipped her head back.

  Vivian watched Mavis. ‘If you’re concerned—stay. You are my companion.’

  Mavis gave a long blink. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If I were a sensible companion, I would never have let you stop here on the way home.’ She fixed a glower on Everleigh. ‘You will mind your behaviour with Vivian, Everleigh, or I will put a curse of my own on you.’ She waved a finger. ‘That concept is beyond frightening.’