“That’s only because I’m a good listener.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.”
“I’ll order us some tea. On second thought, sherry would be better. Come into the sitting room and I’ll pour us a couple or three.”
Harry sipped her wine and sighed with appreciation. “Where do I start? With a confession, I suppose. I came to escape attending a musical evening being given by the Earl and Countess of Mount Edgcumbe, because D’Arcy Lambton will be there.”
“Why do you want to avoid D’Arcy?”
“Because he will ask me to marry him, and I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Are you certain he will propose?”
“Absolutely. I found out that he bet Will Montagu two hundred guineas that I will accept his proposal of marriage. The fools registered the wager in White’s betting book.”
“What the devil is the matter with men? That’s like the story I’m writing . . . a lady forced to marry because of a gambling debt!”
“Well, unlike your story, I’m not being forced. But I honestly don’t know whether to accept D’Arcy’s proposal or postpone giving him an answer. That’s why I’m avoiding him, until I make a decision. That, and the fact that I would make a scene when I kick his bloody shins for making wagers about me.”
“You did right to come and visit me. It will give your temper time to cool, so that you can come to a rational decision.”
Harry ran her finger around the rim of her sherry glass. “If only it were as simple as getting over my temper. It’s far more complicated than that.”
Rachel lifted the decanter. “Drink up, and I’ll pour you another. I’m all ears.”
Harry took a deep breath and plunged into the tragic story of the mine explosion. She described the scene at Langham Place and then she recounted her visit to D’Arcy.
“Hearing about such disasters scalds the heart. But it sounds to me like the Earl of Durham is in sore need of a countess.”
“Oh, absolutely, Rachel. As Countess of Durham, I would take on the cause of improving the lives of the miners and their families, as well as crusading for safety measures down the pits.”
“Then why do you hesitate?”
“Because I’m not sure that’s what D’Arcy would want his countess to do. I fear we would be constantly at odds. He hates that I associate with the women at Langham Place. He says the suffragists will never have the authority or power to change things, and I should leave it to men to right the wrongs.”
“That’s laughable. My brother has dedicated his life to righting wrongs, but men like Lord John Russell are few and far between.”
“That’s another reason I came. I need to talk to Uncle Johnny tomorrow.”
“Harry, you don’t give yourself enough credit. D’Arcy is in love with you. If you became his wife, he would be putty in your hands. Remember what the tarot cards say: It is the woman who leads, and the man who follows. A clever wife, who knows how to be subtle, makes most of the decisions in a marriage. You need look no further than your mother, or my mother, for proof of that.”
“Father loves my mother deeply. He would do anything for her.” Harry sighed. “That’s the kind of marriage I hope to have.”
“Marriage does give a woman power, and as Countess of Durham, you would have even greater power. And only think of the wealth that marriage to D’Arcy would bring.”
“D’Arcy makes it plain that he is in love with me, and I am very fond of him. I can’t put it off much longer. Next time he proposes, I will have to give him his answer.”
“Harry, you know that most marriages are not love matches. And from my observation, even if they are, one partner always loves more than the other,” Rachel said shrewdly. “It is far more preferable to be the one who is loved.”
“You are a wise woman, Mademoiselle Rachelle. Just make sure that Lord Butler worships the ground you walk on before you agree to marry him.”
“You’ll be able to observe that for yourself. I invited him to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, Rachel, I will be intruding on your privacy.”
“Not at all. If you hadn’t arrived, I would have had to ask my brother John and his wife to act as chaperones. Even though I’m a bit long in the tooth, it would be scandalous of me to entertain a gentleman if I were alone.”
“Society’s rules are utterly preposterous. I am often tempted to do something scandalous, and I warrant you are too. The closest we ever came was showing our legs at the queen’s masquerade ball. How excessively daring of us!”
“What about your tattoo? That was certainly throwing caution to the wind.”
“I’ve worn long sleeves ever since because I don’t have the courage to reveal it.”
“But at least you had the audacity to act on an impulse. I tend to live vicariously through the characters I write about, who often invite scandal. On paper, I am fearless.”
“Tonight, as soon as dinner is over, I shall withdraw to the library so that you may spend the evening alone with the dashing Irish captain.” Harry drained her glass. “Amour toujours!”
“Harriet has a passionate interest in great houses and castles, and never tires of hearing about them,” Rachel told James Butler.
“Your family deserves a great deal of credit for restoring Kilkenny Castle to its original medieval appearance. Ireland has far too many ruins,” Harry declared.
“So many deserted Ireland during the years of the famine, and numerous tenanted estates fell into rack and ruin. Kilkenny has over twenty thousand acres, but we managed to keep our tenants,” he said proudly.
“What did you do differently from the other Irish landowners?” Harry asked.
“We didn’t collect rents from our tenants for a period of five years.”
“Oh, James, that is so commendable.” Rachel reached out to touch his hand.
They have eyes only for each other. Harry pushed back her chair. “I promised Father I’d search for some books he thinks might be in Campden Hill’s library. I’m sure you’ll both excuse me.”
Lord Butler jumped up immediately. “Good night, Lady Harriet.” His warm brown eyes told her how much he appreciated her thoughtful gesture of withdrawing. Now he and Rachel could enjoy a few hours of privacy.
Harry made her way to the library and lit the lamps. There are so many fascinating books here, I could be occupied for weeks. Her maternal grandfather, John Russell, the Duke of Bedford, had been a bibliophile and his favorite collection of botany books, with their colorful illustrations of magical herbs and plants, took up an entire library shelf—some were more than two hundred years old.
Out of curiosity, she searched for the books that her parents had bought at the Shugborough auction more than a decade ago. They had bought the entire library from William Anson, Earl of Lichfield, and quite a few of the books had found a home in Campden Hill’s library.
Harry spied a book by Rousseau and took it from the shelf. It was a novel entitled Julie, or the New Heloise, written in 1761. A folded note fell from the book, which she opened and read.
This explains why Rousseau’s books were in Shugborough’s library. The author sent his hero on a fictitious voyage around the world with Admiral Anson, and when Rousseau came to England, he visited Shugborough Hall.
Harry speculated that Admiral George Anson had written the note a century ago. It said that Rousseau was delighted that Shugborough Hall Park was a place where wild animals were free from shooting and hunting. The knowledge warmed her heart.
A few lines of a Rousseau poem had been translated into English:
Oft let me wander, when the morning ray
First gilds thy groves and streams, and glittering towers,
And meditate my uncouth Doric lay . . .
Harry’s memory flew back to Shugborough. She recalled the eight soaring Doric columns that graced the front of the enchanting house. Her fingers stroked the little green snake coiled about her wrist, as she smelled the jasmine and hone
ysuckle in the walled garden. Again she heard the music in the Tower of Winds and saw the magnificent sculpted centaurs. Harry shuddered. I mustn’t think of Thomas.
She put the book back on the shelf and knew she must find something to read that would occupy her thoughts. She needed a novel that would divert her from the sadness of the Durham disaster, which still haunted her.
Harry glanced at the desk and noticed a book lying open. She picked it up and read the title: The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, by Henry Fielding.
I can’t believe my luck. I’ve heard about this ribald novel, but never dreamed I would ever get my hands on a copy. She turned to the first chapter and realized with glee that Rachel had underlined all the naughty bits. She sank down in a comfortable chair and began to read avidly. “In a very few minutes they were both naked. . . .”
At midnight, Rachel made her way to the library and found Harry engrossed in a book. “James just left. Thank you for giving us privacy. It was so generous of you.”
Harry saw that Rachel’s face was delightfully flushed, and guessed that her aunt was in love. “I have been thoroughly entertained reading about the wicked adventures of Tom Jones. Just reading the passages you underlined has enlightened me about the relationships between males and females. I intend to read it from cover to cover. I expect it will give me an invaluable education about human nature.”
“The first time I read it, I was shocked to the core. But it is so titillating, I soon began to enjoy his adventures vicariously.”
“I think it’s rather sad that we can only enjoy them vicariously. Aren’t you tempted to indulge in some of these naughty escapades with your virile captain?”
“Tempted beyond belief.”
“Then why didn’t you, Rachel? Tonight you had every opportunity.”
“I held back because I hope that Lord Butler will ask me to marry him. However, if he has no intention of making me his wife, I would gladly become his mistress.”
“Bravo! Henry Fielding would be proud of you.”
Rachel shook her head. “Whatever would he have thought of Victorians?”
“He would have laughed till he peed himself. Fielding would have pointed out that virtue is its own punishment!”
“I was under the impression that when a bill is passed in Parliament, it becomes the law of the land. Why aren’t laws obeyed?” Harry was sitting on the verandah of Holland House with her uncle.
“People do not change when we tell them they should; they change when their circumstances tell them they must. To which bill are you referring?” Lord John Russell asked his niece.
“The Mine Workers Bill that made it illegal for women and children to work down the pit. I’ve heard you mention how long it took to get it passed.”
“You would think that women and children working in coal mines would be an abomination in any civilized society. But do you know what finally got enough votes to pass the bill and make the practice illegal?”
Harry shook her head.
“Puritanical outrage—not outrage over the heavy drudgery, or the danger, or the brutalizing environment for children, but outrage that some of the miners worked naked.
“Public decency was concerned that the result of the sexes working together underground would increase the rate of illegitimacy.”
“Society has peculiar ideas about what is moral and what is immoral, I’m afraid. When classical Roman sculptures must be draped for fear that they offend sensibilities, it shows how shallow our values have become.”
“The government makes the laws, but they are often impossible to fully enforce. The colliery owners are greedy for profits. Inspectors are few and far between, and who is to know if they take bribes? The owners swear they obey the law and that no male younger than twelve is employed, but they continually pass ten-year-olds off as being older.”
“How naive of me to think you could stride onto the floor of Parliament and demand that the law be enforced. I am only just learning about the County of Durham and how important coal is to England.
A few days ago, there was a mine disaster. I learned about it from the women at Langham Place. I was horrified when they told me of all the dangers the miners face down the pit. I immediately confronted D’Arcy Lambton, fully expecting he would rush up there and do something for the workers.”
“The Earl of Durham is caught between the devil and the deep.”
“Yes, Father explained his position to me. D’Arcy hopes to be appointed lord lieutenant of Durham, which would give him greater authority . If he were so inclined to use it,” Harry added uncertainly.
“Lambton is one of the wealthiest nobles in England. As lord lieutenant, he would be in a position to promote better safety standards in the mines, and raise the standard of living for the workers of Durham County.”
“D’Arcy wants me to marry him.”
He searched her face. “Will you accept his proposal, Harry?”
“I am persuaded that I should.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Just think of all the good I shall be able to do as the Countess of Durham, and I’ll have even more influence as wife of the lord lieutenant. It is such a worthy cause—how can I even consider saying no to D’Arcy?”
“You are not asking my advice, so I hesitate to give it. But if you are in love, you must let nothing stop you, Harry.”
“I am packing tonight so that we can go riding in the morning. Riley won’t be here until after lunch.” Harry pointed to the book beside her bed. “May I borrow Tom Jones? I promise to take good care of him.”
“Of course you may borrow the book. It will make you laugh out loud.”
“I have so enjoyed my visit, Rachel. It has given me a muchneeded respite from the social pressures of the Season. You have provided me with the peace and quiet I needed to come to a definite decision about marrying D’Arcy.”
“Will you accept his proposal?”
Harry smiled. “Yes. You see before you the future Countess of Durham.”
Rachel embraced her. “Darling, I wish you every happiness.”
Harry set out her riding habit for morning and finished her packing. She undressed, got into bed, and reached for The History of Tom Jones.
Just before dawn, Harry began to dream.
She was standing on a pedestal being fitted for her wedding dress. Over a tight steel corset and lace-trimmed white muslin drawers, she was wearing three starched petticoats reinforced with whalebone. When her sisters helped her don the cream satin wedding gown, it had so many flounces and ruffles that it measured ten yards around.
“I would like something simpler.”
“That’s out of the question, Harry,” her mother declared. “You must have a magnificent wedding gown that befits the Countess of Durham. Your bridegroom is one of the wealthiest nobles in the realm. He expects us to spare no expense in providing you with an elaborate trousseau that will make you the envy of every lady in England.”
The large chamber overflowed with dozens of ball gowns, and scores of day dresses. As Harry counted more than thirty pairs of shoes, a wave of guilt swept over her. “Such extravagance is immoral,” she protested.
“Nonsense! You will be living in a castle. As Countess of Durham, you will be expected to entertain the nobility—perhaps even royalty. Your first event will be to act as hostess for the annual Lambton pheasant shoot. You and D’Arcy will preside over the banquet in the high-ceilinged great hall. This golden velvet gown, trimmed with sable fur, will be perfect for the occasion.”
Harry recoiled. “I want Lambton Castle to be a place where wild creatures are free from hunting and shooting.”
“When you become a wife, you must learn to be amenable to your husband’s wishes. If you please him, he will shower you with jewels.” Her mother opened a black velvet box that had arrived from her bridegroom an hour ago. “These diamonds are only the first of many priceless baubles he will gift you with.”
Harry threw her mother and sisters a pleading glance. “W
ould you mind leaving me alone for a few minutes? This is all so overwhelming.”
The minute she was alone, the window flew open, and there stood Tom Jones. The wickedly seductive devil beckoned to her. He had an animal attraction that she couldn’t resist, and without hesitation she gave in to the temptation. She tore off the wedding gown and petticoats, and climbed through the window in her muslin drawers.
When the rakish devil lifted her before him on his black horse, she cried, “Thomas, let’s ride hell for leather!”
“Have you ever ridden hell for leather?” Harry asked Rachel as they led their mounts from Campden Hill’s stables. The July morning had brought heavy dew that turned the cobwebs to brilliant diamonds. I think I dreamed about diamonds.
“No, I don’t believe I have,” Rachel replied, “but there is nothing to stop us.”
“It is exhilarating beyond belief. Let’s have a race!”
“I’m game. You set the course.”
“Let’s ride in a huge circle that encompasses Campden Hill and Holland House, and also the lake. The finish line can be the courtyard.”
They both mounted and lined up their horses side by side. “Ready . . . set ... go!” Harry cried, and they took off as if they were riding the wind. Each time she glanced across at Rachel, she saw that her young aunt was laughing, as her hair streamed behind her like a red banner. Harry knew that she could easily win the race, but she realized how much pleasure Rachel would feel if she reaped this small victory.
When they arrived back at the courtyard, they reined in and slowed the pace. Then they decided to ride around again, but this time at a canter so they could converse.
“The countryside is lovely around here. Riding in Ireland is one of the things I miss most. I suppose we are lucky that our London house overlooks Hyde Park, but for a good gallop, it cannot compare with Barons Court.”
“Oh, I had the most marvelous dream about Ireland last night. Barons Court was so vivid. Mother was there and it was just like the last time we visited, except James Butler was with me. Georgina was quite taken with him.”
The Dark Earl Page 15