An Enchanted Beginning

by Alyssa Dean Copeland

  Jonathan tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”

  “I did.” If she had been Seanna, she would have already made it into the cottage, bolted the door, and found her rooms.

  Jonathan stopped at the doorway and kissed Bethany’s hand. “Good day, my lady.”

  Bethany blushed, swayed from one foot to the other. She felt torn–-she yearned to enjoy this last moment with Jonathan, but the thought of one of the bandits roaming around Bristol made her want to get inside as quickly as possible.

  The moment Jonathan turned to leave, Bethany hastened up the stairs.

  * * *

  The Bell was roundly filled with patrons. Jonathan weaved his way to the back, near the gaming room. He wasn’t interested in quenching thirst or in playing a hand, but in the gossip. More specifically, he wanted to know if his actions had created the stir he intended.

  Bethany seemed to have enjoyed herself that afternoon. At least until they had arrived at the cottage when, suddenly, she appeared anxious, unsure of herself. Perhaps she was no longer comfortable with her father’s decision. He knew he wasn’t comfortable with her father’s decision or with the decisions his own mother had tried to impress upon him. With luck, Bethany would entertain the idea of marriage. There wasn’t any specific thing she had said or done which gave him the impression that she would be happy in a convent.

  The barmaid set a tankard of ale in front of him. His gaze swept over the customers. He’d spent time with Bethany on two occasions, and now felt somewhat protective of her. When her fate reached his ears, he wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. A convent? In France? If word of this reached London, her father would have had a more difficult time explaining his actions to the Queen. Thankfully, her sister intervened. There wasn’t much time, and the match needed to be proper, one of protection and security. Someone with whom she would find solace. He would hold her secret with care.

  It still weighed heavily on his mind why James and Nic had asked him to keep a watchful eye out for the girls. There was no threat with so many people about. He began to wonder, again, if there was more to the request. He looked around for Nic and James. They hadn’t made an appearance. If they needed further assistance, surely they would have contacted him. But for now, he’d listen to see if there was any gossip.

  Across the room, he noticed Gil speaking with Lord Severs. Jonathan shook his head. It seemed as if each time he turned around, Gil was present.

  Before he could bow his head or turn around, Gil caught his eye and waved him over. As much as he wanted to speak further about Gil’s proposal, this was not the time. Jonathan sighed, picked up his ale, and made his way over to their table.

  “Lord Butler,” Gil blurted out. It was obvious he’d had much to drink. “What brings you here this eve? Not the tables, I hope, for Lord Severs here has already lightened most of the purses in this room.”

  Severs laughed and held up a fat purse. Apparently, he knew when to stop. Did he also know when to stop when women were concerned?

  Gil continued. “On my way here, I noticed your carriage pass by. Was that not Lady Maycott accompanying you?”

  Severs leaned forward, holding his ale with both hands. “Aye, I believe it was. So I heard, anyway.”

  Jonathan tried to keep a smile from spreading across his face. It worked. People were beginning to speak about it.

  “Lord Butler.” Severs glanced up at him with eyes glossed over from the alcohol. “Pray tell, will she come with a good dowry?”

  A tightness filled his chest. “I do not know, my lord. I have not inquired.”

  Severs took a long drink. “I am certain her father would pay good coin to marry her off. I may need to call upon the girl.”

  Gil leaned back in his chair. “Or I.”

  Jonathan didn’t like the look that crossed Gil’s face. Was that all they cared about? How much they could profit off the girl? She was not a piece of property. Bethany deserved more.

  “I fear I will be late for an appointment. If you would excuse me.” Jonathan nodded to the men and darted off before they could say another word.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A lone rider approached an encampment hidden in the thick forest, south of Bath. Dominic and Loys unsheathed their weapons the moment they heard the hooves.

  Pompey, a trusted mercenary, jumped from his mount. “At long last I have found you.”

  Dominic lowered his sword. “What have you discovered?”

  Pompey glanced at Loys, then at the weapon. Loys lowered his sword. “The woman we search for is not at the estate as we thought, but in Bristol. I saw her with my own eyes. They have secure passage on a ship in under four weeks’ time.”

  Loys crossed himself. “My prayers have been answered. We have time.”

  Pompey slid from his horse. “There is more. I have heard rumor the woman seeks a suitor before they depart.”

  Dominic crossed his arms. “A suitor?”

  “Aye. I have heard, if a suitor is not found, she will leave for France.”

  Loys’ eyes widened. “France?”

  “Aye.”

  “’Tis good news, is it not Dominic? We need only return to my home, await her arrival, then deliver her to the Bishop.”

  Dominic held up his hand. “No. To wait would not be advisable. We must find her before she finds a suitor. We do not need her new husband to gather his own armies to search for her. We must devise a plan.”

  Loys grumbled under his breath. “In France, I could gather my own men. Unlike these half-witted men you refer to as mercenaries.”

  Dominic lifted his sword to Loys. “Be careful of your words, my friend.”

  Loys deflected the weapon with his own. The metal sang. His eyes narrowed. “Do not forget Windham, it was I who gained your freedom.”

  “Thus, the reason you are not bleeding on the ground this very moment. But remember, this is my country, my soldiers, and my commission.”

  “Then if we fail, my friend, the failure will be yours.”

  Chapter EIGHT

  Other than a few servants roaming about, the cottage was eerily quiet. Bethany had no idea where her family went off to. It mattered not; the calmness of the cottage was most welcome. She picked up an invitation from the neat pile Seanna left on a small table and scanned its contents.

  But her thoughts weren’t on future engagements. They were on Jonathan. Yesterday was the first time since her abduction that she truly enjoyed herself. He was easy to speak with and appeared to be genuinely concerned for her future. She hoped he wasn’t offended by her behavior when they returned to the cottage. She looked forward to seeing him again.

  His words lingered in her mind. He was right; she’d be a bride either way. Before they’d arrived in Bristol, she’d come to terms with her father’s decision. Now, there was a small chance of staying in England, but she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being courted. She couldn’t fathom who would want to take her hand in marriage, especially with her circumstance.

  A servant entered the room interrupting her thoughts. “Master Gilbert Arden.”

  She looked up. Master Arden stood at the doorway with a smirk upon his face.

  “My apologies, Master Arden: neither my father nor Master Bryant are present at the moment. I would be happy to let them know you called.”

  “I am not here to see them, but to see you.”

  She felt her face flush. It was rather rude of him to assume she was prepared to receive anyone. Other than the servants, she was alone.

  She rolled her hands. “This may not be the most convenient time.”

  He walked into the room and sat down on the sofa. He spread his arm across the back and made himself most comfortable. “You are here. I am here. What better time could there be?”

  From the corner of her eye, Bethany noticed Ruth peek into the room.

  Gil called out to her. “You there, bring refreshment.” He glanced back at Bethany. “It is ho
t and my throat is simply parched.” He patted the sofa. “Come sit. Entertain me.”

  A knot formed in her stomach. Her heart raced, muscles tensed. She gave a tight smile and gently replaced the invitation on the table. Slowly, she made her way across the room and sat down on the edge of the chair across from him. Moments ago, she was enjoying the peace and quiet. Now, all she wanted was for Seanna and her father to return. Even Seanna’s fiancé’s presence would be most welcome. At least then she could politely remove herself and hide in her chambers.

  “It appears we share a similar plight. You are in need of a husband and I, a wife.”

  She squeezed her hands tighter. “It appears so.”

  Ruth brought in a tray with a pitcher and two pewter goblets. She poured the small ale, her eyes continuously flickering to Bethany.

  “Thank you, Ruth. That will be all.”

  With a wave of her hand, Bethany offered Gil the first cup. He reached for it and continued. “You are a lady of status. I am a soon-to-be wealthy merchant. I am in need of a woman who is competent enough to manage a household, entertain guests, and, of course, provide me heirs.”

  Bethany could only nod. Movement from the doorway caught her eye. Ruth had positioned herself in a way where she could watch from a distance and not be noticed by their guest. There was not much Ruth could do to assist her, but her mere presence was comforting.

  Gil leaned forward. “I believe you would be a most adequate wife.”

  Her eyes went wide. Slowly, she inhaled, then exhaled.

  Before she could respond, he continued. “Your circumstance matters not. Though, before I speak with your father, I wish to know if there is any cause for concern.”

  She slightly creased her brow. “Concern?”

  “Regarding your condition. Naturally, terms of our agreement will remain open until you are certain. If I am to raise a bastard child as my own, I would expect to be compensated appropriately.”

  Her body tensed. She clenched her jaw. No man had ever spoken to her in such a way. Life in a convent would be more agreeable than a life with this man. She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. A polite response was not forthcoming. She didn’t want to say something she would later regret.

  Voices echoed in the hallway. Bethany closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Seanna and James had returned.

  Seanna whirled into the parlor, laughing. Suddenly, she stopped. “I did not realize we had a guest.”

  Gil stood up and gave a curt bow. “Lady Seanna. Master Bryant. I only just arrived. Lady Bethany has proved to be a most gracious host.”

  Seanna gave Bethany a knowing look. “Will you share a meal with us this afternoon, Master Arden?”

  “I am afraid I will have to decline your invitation. I came only to speak with your father.”

  James lifted a brow. “Regarding your proposition?”

  “I received word a man in Wessex has expressed interest. Of course, I have made my initial offers to Lord Maycott, among others. I am a man of my word.”

  James nodded his head. “I am certain he will return within a few hours, if you care to wait.”

  “No. I have other business which I need to tend to. I bid you good day.” Gil bowed again and walked out of the parlor.

  Ruth still stood in the hallway until the door closed.

  Seanna rushed over and grasped her hands. “He was not here to see Father, he was here to see you. We may yet find you a suitable husband.”

  Bethany cast her eyes toward the floor. Gil told lies all too easily. He was rude, arrogant. Her voice sounded barely above a whisper. “It is my wish I will have a say in whom I marry.”

  Seanna squeezed her hands tighter. “Of course you will.”

  She lifted her eyes to her sister and pressed her lips into a smile. “I believe I would like to rest before dinner. If you will excuse me.”

  “Of course.” Seanna let go of her hands. “Rest a while, and in a few hours we will dress for supper with the Wilmott family.”

  Bethany walked slowly from the parlor. As thankful as she was for their arrival, Gil’s words affected her. They all must think she had been touched, taken in a vial manner. Maybe it would be best if she were to enter a convent. She hated to think of the ridicule her family must be enduring.

  * * *

  It was a long, hot, ride to Wilmott Manor. The wheels rumbled down the dirt road, gently rocking the carriage. A bead of sweat rolled down Bethany’s neck. She reached to wipe it from her skin before it trailed down her chest. Her father didn’t appear to notice; he was preoccupied with James.

  Seanna leaned over and whispered in her ear: “Are you not looking forward to this evening?”

  Bethany gave a timid smile. Supper with the Wilmotts didn’t sound as appealing as Seanna had tried to make it. She vaguely remembered the sisters from Mistress Thayer’s nuncheon and the Butler ball. They appeared to be the most pleasant of women—when they weren’t whispering amongst themselves, bestowing vile stares at those they disapproved of.

  She picked up a fan of peacock feathers from her lap and waved it, wishing they would arrive soon, if only to remove themselves from the heat. At long last, the carriage began to slow. From the window, the Wilmott Manor was an impressive site, with its gray Cotswold stone and tall, vaulted roofs. Though the home was quite remarkable, Bethany doubted their visit would be as such.

  They entered a grand parlor with high ceilings and large windows letting in the last of the light of the day. A servant announced their arrival and more than a dozen guests in the room glanced toward the threshold. Bethany lowered her eyes at the announcement.

  Lord Wilmott took hold of her father’s hand, then James’s. “It is good of you to appear. Are these your lovely daughters?”

  “This is Seanna and Bethany.”

  Lord Wilmott extended his hand. “Welcome. It is my hope you will enjoy yourselves this eve.” The sisters stepped forward. “My lovely daughters, Blythe and Cicely. They will be most happy to see to your every need.”

  Blythe tipped her chin. “Follow me. We shall introduce you.” She gave her father a sweet smile, then turned and walked away.

  Bethany gave a quick nod to her father and followed the sisters across the room and Seanna followed behind.

  Blythe and Cicely stopped next to Phoebe Goodwynn. “I believe you have met the Maycott Sisters.”

  Phoebe’s smile was as sweet as it could be. She looked the sisters up and down without moving her head. “It is good of you to arrive. What a beautiful gown you are wearing.” She tipped her head. “Is that not the French style a few years past? It is so good of you to make it fashionable again.”

  The women next to her giggled. Bethany felt her face go red, her mouth opened a bit at the shock.

  “Oh look.” Phoebe pointed. “My future mother-in-law has arrived. If you will excuse me.” She took a few steps forward and called out, “Lady Butler.”

  Bethany jerked her head and her eyes darted around the room. Lord and Lady Butler were speaking with Lord Wilmott, but Jonathan wasn’t with them.

  She felt Seanna grab her wrist. “Come, Bethany. I believe the air has become a bit stale. Shall we move toward the window?”

  She pressed her lips together and let her sister lead her across the room. Jonathan hadn’t mentioned he’d found a bride. It was only a couple of days ago that he spoke of marrying only for love, not for wealth or status.

  Seanna spoke quietly though her teeth. “She is a most undesirable woman, a natural coward. She could no more capture Jonathan’s heart than she could engage in a genuine conversation.”

  “It is all right, Seanna. Her words do not affect me.”

  They did, however. She glanced back at the doorway, half expecting to see Jonathan enter at any moment.

  Jonathan still hadn’t arrived when the guests were summoned into the dining room. James and her father came to collect them and escort them into the large dining hall. A white damask cloth covered a long table, a sm
all loaf of bread set between every two guests.

  James settled Seanna into her seat; Bethany sat across from her. She watched as James found his way to the end of the table. A twinge of sorrow swept through her. James, by all rights, should be at the head of the table, due to his station. Of course, other than those closest to him, no one knew of his birthright. She shook the feeling away; and grinned as she imagined Phoebe’s reaction upon discovering that James held a higher title than anyone in the room, save her own father. And Seanna was to marry the man.

  “It is good to see you smile. Pray tell, what amuses you so?”

  She glanced up. Lord Severs sat next to her, his body close, whispering in her ear. His nearness made her uncomfortable.

  Two servants stepped up and offered her an ewer and a basin to rinse her hands. Another followed close behind with a drying cloth. She let out a breath, thankful for the distraction.

  He leaned over again. “Lady Bethany, do you prefer Spanish horses or do you believe Arabians are a better choice?”

  She lifted her eyes and gave a gracious grin. Her sister would know more about horses than she did. If only they’d been seated across from each other. Then, Seanna could converse with him rather than her.

  For the next hour, Severs spoke about why Spanish horses were superior. Bethany learned that they were the loveliest and most gentle of horses, possessing courage, bravery, expressive movements, and were the most prized by gentlemen and kings. Severs had her convinced, though he needn’t have taken an hour to persuade her. She assured him, if she were ever to purchase a steed, it would be of the Spanish variety.

  At long last, it was time for the women to retire to the parlor. Bethany wasn’t sure what would be worse: spend another hour speaking with Severs, or be trapped in a room with the most unpleasant of women.

  With a slow step, she found her way to the window, stared out into the darkness, and sighed; of the men who had courted her, Jonathan was the only one she felt comfortable with, and his attentions were a ruse. Maybe marriage would not be the best choice. She couldn’t imagine spending her life with someone like Master Arden or Lord Severs.