Beth and the Mistaken Identity

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘How could I bear to be decked in satins and silk while others starve?’

  ‘I shall have you decked in silks, my Beth. Think of it as the garments for your new position. We two cannot change the world. And in truth, before I met you, I would not even have wished to. I wished to be fair, but not generous. But you have alerted me to many things, even before this day. And together we can change many things.’ She shook her head and looked down, trying to stop herself from dreaming it possible. He gave her hands a squeeze to make her look up again. ‘I went to a lecture the week before we met, and I heard a young fellow named Elfoy talk of the managements of estates. The Earl of Grandiston is his friend and mine, and Grandiston insisted I attend, and that I would hear an amazing story. I did, Beth. His wife had inherited a rundown estate, and with no money to help her, she and he have made improvements to the land and begun to make it a great estate once more. They employed returned soldiers, many of whom were injured, and had fallen on hard times.’

  ‘It is an affront that men who fought for us should fall so low,’ she found herself saying hotly, for her brother had almost joined Wellington’s Army, perhaps as a boy-drummer, had not their father suddenly died.

  ‘Yes, and many such were my own men, and of course I have given to relief funds. But what the Elfoys have achieved is far in advance of this. He said, and I was moved by it, that you only have to offer a man food, shelter and hope, and he will give you his all.’

  ‘Ah, that is quite beautiful.’

  ‘It is. And I have many estates in which I could employ his methods. If you marry me, Beth, we could do it together.’

  Beth glowed at him and her fingers were burning with his touch. ‘Oh, Wrexham, if only — I do not deserve—’

  ‘I have bribed and cajoled you Beth, and let me tell you that many young ladies would have accepted me with the merest request,’ he was smiling and teasing her as usual, and she smiled a little, too. Then his expression changed. 'But that is all.’ His cleft chin was set, and he looked dangerous and breath-taking. He pulled her to him, and kissed her roughly. Then he pulled away, laughing, but adding in a instructive tone, ‘It is clear that for the sake of many starving families, you have no choice but to marry me.’

  Beth was trembling now, and smiling her broadest smile. ‘I do not think I will marry you for that reason, my lord.’ She kissed him again, this time tender and giving. ‘I think I will marry you because I love you very much.’ Then she had a thought. ‘And, of course for the sake of the future Agamemnon.’

  He laughed, and held her closer, making her tremble anew.

  They continued in this happy way until interrupted by Sophy Ludgate and the princess barging in without knocking. Beth pulled away, flushed.

  ‘I could not stop her!’ apologised Emmi.

  ‘Beth,’ Sophy began, ‘I have just been saying to Lady Ernestine that it would be much more suitable, besides cheaper, if you were to accompany us to Europe instead of the Misses Fosdyke. You know we will have such fun.’

  Beth visibly shuddered at the thought. ‘And deprive Miss Wilhelmina of her chance at travel? I could not.’ Sophy began to look familiarly mulish at her will being thwarted. ‘In any case, I shall be at home, busy being a marchioness.’ She took Wrexham’s hand, and looked at him lovingly.

  Emmi squealed, ‘I knew it!’ she ran over and dragged both of them to their feet, and hugged them both at once, in a less than regal fashion.

  ‘Let us leave, Beth. We are going home.’

  ‘Well,’ said Sophy Ludgate, disgusted, ‘When we might have been merry together!’ And she tossed her curls and left the room.

  ‘Do you know, I am quite glad we got the wrong Sophy Ludgate, for I do not at all care for that girl,’ said Wrexham, tucking both ladies’ hands into his bent elbows in a joyous and gallant fashion. ‘Thank goodness for the Mistaken Identity.’

  Beth smiled at him, and at her friend on his arm, and joined them in going back to the great house that would soon, amazingly, serve as her home. How she loved him now, and how she would strive to make him never regret his decision. She looked at Emmi, so very pleased with herself and all her Culpepper plots. But Beth knew that both she and her blue-eyed Marquis of Wrexham would have strode to keep her whatever her name had been. Just because of who they were. The dearest friends of her life. She would never have allowed it of course, but as she looked at the set of Wrexham's chin, she knew he would have pursued her, wherever she had run to.

  'Well, I shall have no shopping to speak of at dinner tonight,' said Emmi merrily, 'Whatever shall we have to talk of?'

  'Should I go to sleep at my club?' asked Wrexham, frowning.

  'Oh, no! We've had guests refused entry since Beth arrived. No one need know she is there 'til Miss Culpepper arrives.' The princess smiled. 'We shall just have another dinner together as usual. And tomorrow after you have seen old Culpepper, I can go and spread the word of my brother's sudden romance!'

  All three left the house, choosing — shockingly — to send a message by a footman that they would make their farewells at another time. They walked towards Grosvenor Square, eschewing the carriage, and Lady Ernestine, watching them from the window, thought them a happy group. She did not approve of marrying out of one’s class, as this departure together suggested, but seeing them walk joyously off, she felt that all three had some magical connection that could not be denied.

  Everyone else joined her at the window, watching them.

  ‘Well,’ huffed Lord Horescombe. I hope Wrexham knows what he’s about.’

  ‘I think it is like a fairy tale,’ said Miss Wilhelmina, wiping a tear away with a wisp of a handkerchief.

  ‘You would,’ said Miss Florencia flatly. ‘I cannot approve of such an unequal match.’ In the distance, she saw Wrexham look down on the little maid, and almost felt his loving gaze even from this distance. A tear rose in her eyes. ‘But Beth is a good girl.’ Her calm was shaken a little, and she grasped her sister’s hand.

  Sophy was looking too, still disgruntled at the thwarting of her will. ‘Well,’ she said a trifle sulkily, ‘I suppose I shall have to curtsy deeply to the new Marchioness of Wrexham, when I meet her.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Lady Ernestine with relish, ‘that you will indeed.’

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  Also by Alicia Cameron:

  The Inspirational Edwardian Romance with an ‘Unforgettable heroine…’ getBook.at/FrancineT

  The Regency Romances:

  Bestselling Clarissa: GetBook.at/Clarissa (over 100 Amazon.com reviews)

  The Fentons Book 1 and 2:

  GetBook.at/Honoria GetBook.at/Felicity

  GetBook.at/Delphine

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  Clarissa: Here

  Delphine: Here

  Felicity: Here

  Honoria: Here

  Francine: Here

  Author’s Note:

  Dear Lovely Readers,

  I can say that now not just in hope, but in the knowledge that I now possess of some of you. I must truly have some of the loveliest readers around. If you have just found this book and like it, please explore my world on https://aliciacameron.co.uk. You can also email me at alicia@aliciacameron.co.uk

  Twitter: @aliciaclarissa2

  Instagram: aliciaclarissa2

  And on Facebook: aliciiacameron.100

  I recommend my audiobooks. The majority (including the audio of this book in production at the moment) are read by talented actress Helen Taylor, though I have had Clarissa read by the Heath Miller, a Regency hero in look and gentlemanliness, and a wonderfully fruity reading of Delphine by Rafe Buckley.

  I’m entwined in my next world now, an old castle that my reclusive heroine has to makeover for a house party where one of her younger sisters’ swains might offer for her.

  But the reason th
at Evangeline did not accept the offers for her hand made to her during her two seasons also arrives. Lord Onslow is deeply in love with another, and he hardly recognises the girl who thinks he was made for her, our heroine Evangeline. She fell in love in a moment, but unfortunately, his attention is still elsewhere.

  So far, it is lots of fun. What do you think? Sound promising?

  As usual, might I ask you, if you’ve enjoyed this book, to LEAVE A REVIEW ON AMAZON? In order to stop fraud, Amazon has forbidden many fan reviews, and cut down some of my readers' reviews, usually because they've reviewed before. I'm sure it is a glip, but it is frustrating for authors and their fans.

  As you are wonderful, take a second to leave a review.

  All the very best from my Scottish home to your home,

  Alicia

  P.S. I’ll add a chapter of Book 1 of The Fentons: Honoria and the Family Obligation, just to tempt you.

  Honoria and the Family Obligation

  The Fentons: Book1

  Chapter 1

  Blue Slippers

  ‘He has arrived!’ said Serena, kneeling on the window seat of their bedchamber. She made a pretty picture there with her sprigged muslin dress foaming around her and one silk stockinged foot still on the floor, but her sister Honoria was too frozen with fear to notice.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Honoria, moving forward in a dull fashion to join her. Her elder brother Benedict had been sitting with one leg draped negligently over the arm of the only comfortable chair in the room and now rose languidly to join his younger sisters. After the season in London, Dickie had begun to ape the manners of Beau Brummel and his cronies, polite, but slightly bored with the world. At one and twenty, it seemed a trifle contrived, even allowing that his long limbs and handsome face put many a town beau to shame.

  Serena’s dark eyes danced wickedly, ‘Here comes the conquest of your triumphant season, your soon-to-be-fiancé.’

  Dickie grinned, rather more like their childhood companion, ‘Your knight in shining armour. If only you could remember him.’

  ‘It isn’t funny.’

  Serena laughed and turned back to the window as she heard the door of the carriage open and the steps let down by Timothy, the one and only footman that Fenton Manor could boast.

  ‘Oh, how did it happen?’ Honoria said for the fifteenth time that morning.

  Someone in the crowd had said, ‘Mr Allison is approaching. But he never dances!’ In confusion, she had looked around, and saw the throng around her grow still and part as her hostess approached with a tall gentleman. With all eyes turned to her she stiffened in every sinew. She remembered the voice of Lady Carlisle introducing Mr Allison as a desirable partner, she remembered her mother thrusting her forward as she was frozen with timidity. She remembered his hand lead her to her first waltz of the season. She had turned to her mother for protection as his hand snaked around her waist and had seen that matron grip her hands together and glow with pride. This was Lady Fenton’s shining moment, if not her daughter’s. Word had it that Mr Allison had danced only thrice this season, each time with his married friends. Lost in the whirl of the dance, she had answered his remarks with single syllables, looking no higher than his chin. A dimpled chin, strong, she remembered vaguely. And though she had previously seen Mr Allison at a distance, the very rich and therefore very interesting Mr Allison, with an estate grander than many a nobleman, she could not remember more than that he was held to be handsome. (As she told Serena this later, her sister remarked that rich men were very often held to be handsome, strangely related to the size of their purse.)

  There was the waltz; there had been a visit to her father in the London house; her mother had informed her of Mr Allison’s wishes and that she was to receive his addresses the next afternoon. He certainly visited the next afternoon, and Honoria had been suffered to serve him his tea and her hand had shaken so much that she had kept her eyes on the cup for the rest of the time. He had not proposed, which her mother thought of as a pity, but here she had been saved by Papa, who had thought that Mr Allison should visit them in the country where his daughter and he might be more at their leisure to know each other. ‘For she is a little shy with new company and I should wish her perfectly comfortable before she receives your addresses,’ Sir Ranalph had told him, as Honoria’s mama had explained.

  Serena, when told, had thought it a wonderful joke. To be practically engaged to someone you could not remember! She laughed because she trusted to good-natured Papa to save Honoria from the match if it should prove unwanted; her sister had only to say “no”.

  ‘Why on earth do you make such a tragedian of yourself, Orry,’ had said Serena once Honoria had poured her story out, ‘After poor Henrietta Madeley’s sad marriage, Papa has always said that to marry with such parental compulsion is scandalously cruel.’

  And Honoria had mopped up her tears and felt a good deal better, buoyed by Serena’s strength of mind. To be sure, there was the embarrassment to be endured of giving disappointment, but she resolved to do it if Mr Allison’s aura of grandeur continued to terrify her.

  ‘And then,’ her sister had continued merrily, ‘the rich Mr Allison may just turn out to be as handsome as his purse and as good natured as Papa - and you will fall head over heels with him after all.’

  The morning after, Honoria had gone for a walk before breakfast, in much better spirits. As she came up the steps to re-enter by the breakfast room, she carelessly caught her new French muslin (fifteen and sixpence the yard, Mama had told her) on the roses that grew on a column. If she took her time and did not pull, she may be able to rescue herself without damage to the dress. She could hear Mama and Papa chatting and gave it no mind until Mama’s voice became serious.

  ‘My dear Ranalph, will you not tell me?’

  ‘Shall there be muffins this morning, my dear?’ said Papa cheerfully.

  ‘You did not finish your mutton last night and you are falsely cheerful this morning. Tell me, my love.’

  ‘You should apply for a position at Bow Street, my dear. Nothing escapes you.’ She heard the sound of an embrace.

  ‘Diversionary tactics, sir, are futile.’

  Honoria knew she should not be privy to this, but she was still detaching her dress, thorn by thorn. It was incumbent on her to make a noise, so that they might know she was there, but as she decided to do so, she was frozen by Papa’s next words.

  ‘Mr Allison’s visit will resolve all, I’m sure.’

  Honoria closed her mouth, automatically continuing to silently pluck her dress from the rose bush, anxious to be away.

  ‘Resolve what, dearest?’ Honoria could picture her mama on Papa’s knee.

  ‘Well, there have been extra expenses – from the Brighton property.’ Honoria knew that this was where her uncle Wilbert lived, her father’s younger brother. (Dickie had explained that he was a friend of the Prince Regent, which sounded so well to the girls, but Dickie had shaken his head loftily. ‘You girls know nothing. Unless you are as rich as a Maharajah, it’s ruinous to be part of that set.’)

  Her father continued, ‘Now, now. All is well. If things do not take with Mr Allison, we shall just have to cut our cloth a little, Madame.’ He breathed. ‘But, Cynthia, I’m afraid another London Season is not to be thought of.’

  Honoria felt instant guilt. Her own season had been at a rather later age than that of her more prosperous friends, and she had not been able to understand why Serena and she could not have had it together, for they borrowed each other’s clothes all the time. Serena’s intrepid spirit would have buoyed hers too and made her laugh, and would have surely helped with her crippling timidity. But when she had seen how many dresses had been required - one day alone she had changed from morning gown to carriage dress to luncheon half dress, then riding habit and finally evening dress. And with so many of the same people at balls, one could not make do - Mama had insisted on twenty evening gowns as the bare minimum. However doughty with a needle the sisters might be, this was
beyond their scope, and London dressmakers did not come cheap. Two such wardrobes were not to be paid for by the estate’s income in one year. Honoria had accidentally seen the milliner’s bill for her season and shuddered to think of it - her bonnets alone had been ruinously expensive. She had looked forward to her second season, where her wardrobe could be adapted at very little cost to give it a new look and Serena would also have her fill of new walking dresses and riding habits, bonnets and stockings. If she were in London with her sister, she might actually enjoy it.

  ‘Poor Serena. What are her chances of a suitable match in this restricted neighbourhood?’ Mama continued, ‘And indeed, Honoria, if she does not like this match. Though how she could fail to like a charming, handsome man like Mr Allison is beyond me,’ she finished.

  ‘Do not forget rich,’ teased her husband.

  ‘When I think of the girls who tried to catch him all season! And then he came to us – specifically asked to be presented to her as a partner for the waltz, as dear Lady Carlisle informed me later - but she showed no triumph at all. And now, she will not give an opinion. She is strangely reticent about the subject.’

  ‘Well, well, it is no doubt her shyness. She will be more relaxed when she sees Allison among the family.’