by Jenny Hambly
It did not sound like a compliment so Rosalind merely nodded by way of reply.
“Well, you are at least a well-looking girl, which is how I suppose, you have had the good fortune to contract such an eligible connection.”
As she did not know how to answer that either, she was glad when Lady Atherton stepped in.
“We are very fond of Rosalind and are extremely happy to welcome her into our family,” she said graciously.
“You do know, I take it, of her circumstances? That her father came to the bad end we all had predicted and disgraced the name of Marlowe before taking his own life?” she snapped. “It is just as well he had no heir, there was bad blood in his family. It is at least a name you won’t have to bear with much longer,” she said to Rosalind.
Rosalind felt a slow burning anger seep through her veins. This was meant to be her relation, who should have been pleased for her and yet was prepared to perhaps put her position in jeopardy if she could by dragging up the sordid past.
“I was very fond of my father,” she said quietly.
“As was my late husband,” interjected Lady Atherton. “I presume you have come to wish Rosalind well in her upcoming nuptials?”
“Yes, well, I happened to be on a rare visit to town when I saw the notice. Thought you might like to know you had some relatives, I have two girls about your age, one of which will be making her come out next season.”
“Oh, really?” said Lady Atherton, raising her eyebrows haughtily. “And do you have a house in town?”
Lady Brentwood coloured slightly. “No, we don’t often come to town. The hectic life doesn’t really suit me or my lord. But as we seem to be Rosalind’s closest relations, she might perhaps consider getting acquainted with her cousin, Cecily.”
Those eyebrows rose even higher. “No doubt you think she might be able to take her about a little, introduce her to the right people and so on?” she suggested.
“Well, and why not?” Lady Brentwood blustered.
“Perhaps because,” said Rosalind softly, “there is bad blood in us Marlowes. We wouldn’t want to taint Cecily now would we? In addition, you speak of family, but you have until now shown no interest in my existence or well-being. This is now my family and I find I have no need or desire to further my acquaintance with you or yours.”
She watched with some satisfaction as Lady Brentwood turned an interesting shade of puce. Getting decisively to her feet, she rang the bell. “Now, if you will excuse us, we are really very busy today, we have a wedding to plan after all.”
“Why you impertinent little baggage. I should have known better than to expect anything better from a Marlowe but I thought I’d give you a chance. If I had thought for one moment I would be treated in such a scandalously rude fashion, I would never have come.”
With perfect timing Radcliffe entered the room.
“Good day to you, ma’am,” said Rosalind with quiet dignity and swept out of the door, closely followed by Lady Atherton. By the time she had reached her own chamber her shoulders had begun to shake.
Following her in, Lady Atherton said in a soothing voice, “There now, don’t be upset by that old dragon.”
But when she turned around she was laughing. Collapsing onto her bed, she gasped out, “She was such a fright! Can you imagine a more vulgar creature?”
Lady Atherton too began to laugh. “No, a country squire’s wife with no taste or delicacy if I am not much mistaken. She probably cannot afford a season in town and thought you might do the thing for her.”
Rosalind’s smile wavered for an instant; it wasn’t Cecily’s fault that she had such a mother after all. “You don’t think...”
“No!” said Lady Atherton firmly. “Now, hurry up and take that bath before it goes cold.”
As she lay back in the water’s warm embrace, she floated off into a half sleep, letting her mind wander over the turn of recent events. Lucy would be amazed! She suddenly opened her eyes wide. Lucy! She should have already sent her a note, no, gone to see her, to share the wonderful news. Tomorrow, she would do it tomorrow, she decided, drifting off into a pleasant daydream once more. This time the one where she replayed the experience of being held in a very passionate embrace by her future husband.
“My lady, wake up!”
Rosalind reluctantly opened her eyes to find Mary waiting with a large towel.
“The mistress is waiting for you in the drawing room, miss,” she explained.
Realising her bathwater was now tepid, she did not demur but took the towel and wound it around herself.
“What is the hurry?” she said. “The guests aren’t expected for a couple of hours yet.”
“I don’t know nothing about that, my lady, I’m just doing as I’m told,” she said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Mary helped her into her undergarments before removing the screen that had shielded her modesty. Turning, Rosalind’s eyes widened in surprise. There, laid out on her bed, was an almost exact replica of the dress Lady Atherton had claimed to despise. Walking slowly forward, she couldn’t take her eyes from it. Reaching out a slightly unsteady hand, she gently touched its soft folds.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it miss?” chirped Mary merrily. “It was one of Lady Belle’s but she didn’t think it flattered her, it came back from the dressmaker’s this morning, Lady Atherton had them make a few alterations and add all that gold embroidery to it.”
“But we are in mourning,” Rosalind murmured regretfully.
“You’re all having an evening off from mourning on account of your engagement,” Mary explained.
At that moment Farrow entered, bringing her a pair of long gold gloves; the very expensive gloves Lady Atherton had purchased on their shopping trip yesterday.
“I have been sent to help you get ready, Lady Rosalind,” she explained, smiling, “and may I offer you my congratulations on your engagement.”
Half an hour later she was ready; in addition to her other gifts Lady Atherton had sent her a present of a simple pearl necklace. Farrow stood back and surveyed her handiwork. The gold tambour work in the dress brought out the golden tones in Rosalind’s arresting eyes. Her hair had been swept up onto her head except for a long strand of curls that fell over one shoulder, a single white rose placed above one ear creating a striking contrast to her ebony locks. The dress fitted her tall, slender form to perfection and as well as the elegant gloves, one satin-tipped slipper, also in gold peeped out from beneath its hem.
Farrow sighed and gave something suspiciously like a sniff. “Never have I achieved such results with so little effort,” she said, her eyes shining. “You could almost be a Grecian Goddess come to life.”
Rosalind laughed feeling quite giddy all of sudden. “Be careful, Farrow, all these compliments will go to my head.”
Farrow became brisk to cover her emotions. “Now don’t talk nonsense, I’ve never met such a modest young lady, nor one who deserved a bit of luck more than you.”
“And I’ve never seen one as looks as beautiful as you do!” breathed her faithful Mary. “Just wait ‘til His Lordships sets his eyes on you, he’ll bust a gut!”
“Mary!” Farrow admonished all business again.
“You’d be better tidying up here than using language which no lady of quality can wish to hear!”
Rosalind hid a smile, she wondered if Farrow had realised that Mary’s status would rise considerably once she was married.
Just then there was a knock on the door and she found Radcliffe on the other side.
“I’ve come to escort you to the drawing room,” he said formally.
“Escort me?” said Rosalind, surprised. “I believe I know the way.”
“Even so,” he said. “And if I may be so bold as to speak, being an old retainer of this family you know, you look charmingly, my lady.”
Somewhat bewildered she accepted his escort. The surprises that had gone before were nothing compared to what awaited her there. Lucy, attired in what R
osalind recognised as her best gown and cap, was sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair. She stood as if to address her but was beaten to it by Lord Atherton. He looked extremely elegant, wearing white pantaloons and a black swallow-tailed coat. His black waistcoat had no ornament but a white rose to match the one in her hair.
Grasping her hands, he raised them one after the other to his lips, murmuring, “If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces.”
Touched as she was by his words, a slow, wide grin crossed her face on hearing the small sob that came from behind him. Never taking her eyes off Lord Atherton’s face, she said, “Lucy, I believe you have been outdone in the quotation stakes!”
As she had hoped, he shared her amusement and they both turned to her.
“Your turn, I believe, Mrs Prowett,” Lord Atherton gently challenged.
Blinking back the tears his beautiful words had brought to her eyes she rose to the challenge. “She is more than just a pretty face, my lord,” she said. “She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are the ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that can retaineth her.”
A slow clapping from the fireplace followed this short speech and for the first time since entering the room, Rosalind saw the small, rather rotund vicar who was standing by the fire.
“Excellent, Mrs Prowett, most excellent. From proverbs, I believe.”
“Indeed it is,” she confirmed, “verses fifteen to eighteen.”
Lord Atherton bowed low in her direction. “She is all the things that I desire, Mrs Prowett,” he said boldly, “although I am not sure about the ‘all her paths are peace’ bit.”
Lady Atherton chose that moment to come forward. “Darling Rosalind, you look divine. Let me introduce you to the Reverend James Philips, he is an old friend of mine.”
Rosalind duly curtsied.
“He has come to marry you.”
And so she found herself the Countess of Atherton before the dinner guests arrived.
Lord and Lady Hayward were the first to put in an appearance. Belle was glowing, pregnancy obviously suited her. She hugged Rosalind fiercely. “I am so glad to have you as my sister!”
Lord Preeve and Sir Philip arrived shortly afterwards, the former walking with the aid of a very elegant walking stick. He shook Lord Atherton’s hand warmly and turned a beaming smile upon the new Lady Atherton. “By j-jove you are a s-sight for sore eyes, n-never saw you l-looking lovelier! C-can’t s-say I’m that s-surprised,” he declared. “M-might not b-be up to every r-rig in town but it s-suddenly s-struck me when you were r-reading me that b-book, y-you two were c-carrying o-on just l-like that Miss Bennett and that W-Wickham fellow.”
Rosalind laughed. “I think you mean Mr Darcy.”
“I-if y-you s-say so, anyway G-George was t-turning into j-just such a r-rum f-fellow before you came on the scene. B-best thing that c-could have h- happened to him!” he declared, then cast a wary eye at his friend. “N-no offence m-meant, George.”
“None taken,” he grinned.
Sir Philip smiled at him. “I find you are able to manage your affairs very well after all, George.”
Turning to Rosalind, he bowed low over her hand.
“My congratulations.”
“We will all dance at your wedding, next,” teased Belle.
Slowly releasing Rosalind’s hand he gave a lopsided grin. “Don’t wager any money on the chance,” he said, “I fear the prizes most worth winning have already been claimed.”
THE END
Also by Jenny Hambly
Thank you for reading Rosalind!
Thank you for your support! I do hope you have enjoyed reading Rosalind. If you would consider leaving a short review on Amazon, I would be very grateful. It really helps readers know what to expect, and helps raise my profile, which as a relatively new author is so very helpful.
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Other books in the series
Belle – Bachelor Brides 0
Sophie – Bachelor Brides 2
Katherine – Bachelor Brides 3
Belle is available, free, to anyone who joins my mailing list at: https://jennyhambly.com/book/belle-2/
About the Author
I love history and the Regency period in particular. I grew up on a diet of Jane Austen, Charlotte and Emile Bronte, and Georgette Heyer. Later I put my love of reading to good use and gained a 1st class honours degree in literature.
I now write traditional Regency romance novels. I like to think my characters, though flawed, are likeable, strong, and true to the period. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing my Bachelor Brides series. Writing has always been my dream and I am fortunate enough to have been able to realise that dream.
I live by the sea in Plymouth, England, with my partner, Dave. I like reading, sailing, wine, getting up early to watch the sunrise in summer, and long quiet evenings by the wood burner in our cabin on the cliffs in Cornwall in winter.