One Wicked Winter

by Emma V. Leech

  “That’s the butcher’s son, I think,” she said, keeping her tone light and conversational and giving a little tug on Edward’s hand, drawing him closer to the ring. The boys noted their arrival, now, and the noise subsided a little as they touched their forelocks respectfully, and a sense of reserve fell over the gathering. Belle was relieved it was quieter, but saddened that Edward’s forbidding presence as the marquess was enough to make them all lose their enthusiasm.

  Charlie was indefatigable, though, still balling instructions, though he gave Belle a sly wink.

  Edward was watching Charlie and the young man with an intense expression, and Belle could tell he was getting increasingly edgy. Certain that he would storm out of the place at any moment and disappear into the woods, she nearly jumped out of her skin when he exploded beside her.

  “For the love of God, Charlie, sort his stance out. He’ll go down like a bloody ninepin with little more than a tap.”

  Belle caught her breath and restrained the urge to jump up and down and cheer like the hoyden Edward had once accused her of being. The boys around the ring scattered in awe as her imposing husband ducked under the roped-off area and began to demonstrate to the butcher’s lad exactly where he was going wrong.

  She watched with growing pride as Edward stripped off his jacket and shirt and began to show the group as a whole exactly what it was they were aiming to emulate. Belle listened in amusement as whispers circulated the barn, all uttered in reverent tones as it emerged that Edward had trained with Mr John Jackson himself in Bond Street.

  Meeting Charlie’s eye as Edward picked the next eager-eyed lad to come and have a go, Belle couldn’t help but beam at the man. Charlie grinned, clearly as thrilled as she was at their success.

  She shouldn’t read too much into it, she knew that. There would be other days when he wasn’t so ready to be involved, perhaps, but it was a greater success than she could have hoped, and Edward was clearly in his element. It was more than enough.

  Chapter 28

  “Wherein hope burns as bright as a flaming plum pudding.”

  Belle thought she might actually burst from pride as she watched her husband at the far end of the groaning dinner table. He was quiet, but she had noticed him stir himself to offer a word or two to whatever conversation was taking place at his end of the table. It wasn’t much, perhaps, and anyone who didn’t know him would likely think him proud and disagreeable, but Belle knew the effort he was making by simply being in company after everything that had happened today, and that he did it for her.

  Edward looked up then, catching her eyes, and she could do nothing less but give him a ridiculously happy smile that must surely tell him how very proud she was. He looked back at her, clearly a little bemused, but then a returning smile dawned on his face.

  He looked happy.

  The expression was so rare and hard won that Belle knew this would be something she remembered all her days.

  Puddy had outdone herself, so overcome with pleasure at having Lord Winterbourne returned to the fold and a family gathering to cook for at Christmas, that Belle wondered how they could possibly scratch the surface. They would have to make a heroic effort, however, lest they upset their devoted cook and have to live on bread and jam until she recovered.

  Belle looked around the gathering with deep satisfaction. Last Christmas had been such a depressing time for her and Crecy that this seemed the most wonderful gift, though she found her sister did not look as happy as she might have hoped. Oh, she was laughing and talking with everyone, but Belle noticed the moments when she withdrew a little, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Probably worrying about her rescued magpie, Belle thought with chagrin, but a niggle of concern remained, insisting that it was something more than that.

  The arrival of the plum pudding was greeted with cheers as Garrett held the flaming pudding with its sprig of holly aloft with obvious pleasure. Rich and delicious, everyone moaned, and slightly ribald jokes were made by the men about the loosening of corsets.

  Everyone exclaimed as they found who had received which charm. Aubrey received the tiny horseshoe for luck, though from everything Belle had heard of his growing venture, he hardly needed it. Violette compounded their good fortune by getting the coin for wealth. Aubrey’s maiden aunt, Lady Sinclair, received a ring, which suggested she’d be the next married. This set her into a fit of the giggles so severe that she had to be patted on the back with some force before she choked. To Edward’s quiet delight, he received an anchor, for safe harbour, and sent Belle such an eloquent look that she had to swallow hard and look away before she was accused of being the most dreadful watering pot.

  “What did you get, Crecy?” Belle asked, as her sister looked rather intrigued by hers.

  “I got two,” she exclaimed. “A shoe for travel, and a thimble, for another year single.”

  To Belle’s dismay, she didn’t look the least bit perturbed by either of these fortunes. Belle reminded herself severely that it was just superstitious nonsense, after all, and squashed the concern that there was anything for her to worry about. Crecy was safe at Longwold with them and not going anywhere. When the time was right, she would have a dazzling come-out in London. Lady Russell had already suggested that she have a hand in this, along with Violette, as they all knew Edward would not fare well in the city. This had been a great weight from Belle’s shoulders, knowing that Lady Russell would open doors everywhere for her sister, as well as keep a sharp eye on her. So, everything would work out perfectly, and, in Belle’s opinion, it was all to the good that her eccentric sister had at least another year to wait before marrying, in any case. It gave her time to make the match Belle had always dreamed of for her, and find a good and loving man who would appreciate her quirks and fancies. Belle sighed with pleasure at the idea. Yes, all would be well.

  ***

  Edward lay in bed, his head a jumble of thoughts, yet for once they were not all unpleasant. The boxing club had, at first glance, seemed a ridiculous idea. Good Lord, he was a marquess; his father would spin in his grave. But then, on reflection, it had been many years since Edward had given a damn what his father thought, even when the old buzzard had been alive.

  He’d enjoyed being in the ring again, and Belle was right, there were some who showed a natural talent. He’d noted an older fellow standing at the back of the barn, too proud to step forward and take part yet, but he’d been built like an ox. Edward was informed by a more loquacious younger boy that Ned Callow worked the fields, and could fell any man who stood up with him with a single blow. Looking at the size of his fists, Edward could well believe it, and wondered how long it would take to knock the fellow into shape. It would be good to have a decent opponent again.

  He felt his mouth curve into a grin as he remembered Belle standing on the side lines, watching him with such obvious admiration that it had been hard to concentrate at all. Despite everything he’d said about women and boxing, he had to admit that he enjoyed her watching him immensely, more than he would likely ever admit. That she had bought a book on boxing, and then gone out to create this new venture for him ... A strange sensation wrapped around his heart and held it tight.

  Belle seemed to know him better than he knew himself. When he got caught in the past and frozen up as his surroundings overwhelmed him, she seemed to know just what to do. She knew how to help him hold on to the moment and not give into the panic, not drown under the weight of memories.

  Edward turned his head as Belle stirred in her sleep beside him. He moved onto his side, watching her in the light of the fire as a new and unfamiliar sensation stole over him. He felt possessive, he realised, and he was in grave danger of falling head over heels for his wife. In all honesty, he knew that it had begun long since, and whilst he might have fought against it and denied it, he knew that he could do so no longer. Not without hurting her, and that he could not do. Not now. She had given him too much.

  He loved her, he realised, and he wanted to love her, but h
e also truly didn’t want to, at the same time. The more that terrifying emotion took a hold of him, the more the fear of losing her increased. What if he drove her away, what if he did or said something unforgivable in one of his damnable fits of temper? What if something happened to her? She could be hurt, she could die having his child ... Panic began to claw at his throat and his breath came faster.

  “Hush, love,” murmured a sleepy voice beside him as Belle’s hand reached and slid over his chest, covering his heart. “Come here.”

  Edward went willingly, relishing the warmth and the comfort of her embrace, and suddenly his fears diminished. They were still there, lingering at the edge of his mind, but they were no longer overwhelming.

  He pressed his mouth to hers and smiled as she huffed against his lips. “Sleepy ...” she mumbled.

  “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice low and urgent as he kissed her again, his hands exploring the lush curves hidden beneath the covers, and he realised he was happy. It was unlikely and extraordinary, but it was true. “You’re not the least bit sleepy,” he chuckled, kissing a path down her neck as she sighed and wound her arms around him, her hands in his hair tugging until he raised his head and gave her the kiss she was searching for.

  “No,” she said, smiling against his mouth. “You’re quite right, of course. I’m not sleepy at all.”

  ***

  Belle sighed as she looked out of the bedroom window to see Crecy galloping off into the distance, the horse blowing clouds on the frosty morning air. Sipping at her chocolate, she wondered what it was that was making her so anxious.

  “She certainly loves to ride.”

  Turning and finding Edward standing close behind her, she leaned her head back for a kiss.

  “Mmm, you taste of chocolate,” he murmured, making her shiver.

  “Stop that, Edward,” she scolded, though she was smiling, which rather spoiled the effect. “We have work to do.”

  As it was Boxing Day, the servants had the day off, and would gather downstairs shortly to receive their gifts and Christmas boxes. Belle had already reduced her maid Mary to a blubbering wreck by giving her all of her old garments, and throwing in a few things that were not old at all but that she wanted to give. She would also receive a generous Christmas box. Mary had proven herself loyal, and had gone a long way to making Belle feel at home when she had been adrift. She wouldn’t forget that.

  Her eyes, however, were drawn back to the horizon as Crecy disappeared into the woodland.

  “You worry for her.”

  Belle nodded. “She’s been my responsibility since she was three,” she said, her tone wistful. “I know I’m only six years older, but sometimes I feel more like her mother than her sister. She’s never really known any other but me, you see. Even when her mother lived, the woman wasn’t interested in Crecy.”

  Edward wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest and resting his head atop hers. “You did all of this for her, didn’t you?” he said, his voice low. “Trying to marry poor old Percy - you wouldn’t have been happy with him, you know,” he added, and, with delight, she thought she detected just a trace of jealousy behind the words. “He could never have handled you and that dreadful temper of yours.”

  Belle snorted as he gave her a rueful grin, and then his face grew serious. “But you weren’t thinking of your own happiness at all, were you?”

  Moving so that she could look up at him, Belle turned in his arms, her hands smoothing over the silk of his waistcoat, feeling the heat of him beneath her palms. “I thought about being safe,” she admitted. “About not worrying if we would have a roof over our heads or money to buy the basic necessities. Aunt Grimble never made any secret of the fact that she intended to throw me out, and ...” Her stomach clenched in revulsion as she remembered once more the plans the awful woman had for Crecy. “I dread to think how Crecy would have ended. Sold to the highest bidder, I imagine.”

  She shuddered and leaned her head on Edward’s chest. “You saved us.”

  Edward snorted, his tone amused. “I did no such thing, and you know it.” He lifted her head with his fingers, looking down into her face with a grave expression. “Violette saved you, and then ... then you saved me.”

  Belle smiled, quite dazed by the sincerity of his words. “A compromise, then.” The words were a whisper as she reached out to lay a hand against his cheek. “Let us say that we saved each other,” she whispered, and reached up for another kiss.

  Chapter 29

  “Wherein time passes, Edward’s temper burns, Belle has a secret, and a fire blazes out of control.”

  Spring

  15th April, 1818

  “Where are you going?” Belle called out, setting her basket down and squinting against the sun as Crecy turned and waved at her.

  “Just a walk into the village,” she called back, moving away before Belle could ask about the parcel tucked under her arm. No doubt something for a friend she’d met in London. Belle watched her go, a jaunty feather dancing in her bonnet as she disappeared along the lane that led to the village. Enjoying the feel of the spring sunshine on her face, Belle picked up her basket once more and carried on in the opposite direction to complete her own errand.

  She had been dismayed but unsurprised by Crecy’s heartfelt plea to return to Longwold. She had gone to London under Lady Russell’s watchful eye in January, and had submitted to almost three weeks of shopping and preparation until Lady Russell was satisfied she was ready. She had caused a sensation, as Belle had known she would. According to Violette’s letters, Lady Russell had an ever-increasing queue of young men at her door, bearing flowers and gifts and, God help them, poetry. A little over three months later, Belle had received an imploring and tear stained letter from her sister, who was utterly wretched and begging to be allowed to come home.

  What could Belle do but agree? She hated the idea of Crecy languishing alone at Longwold where no one could see how extraordinary she was, and not just simply for her beauty. But she could not bear the idea of Crecy being so dreadfully miserable, and knew her sister well enough to know that if she didn’t comply, Crecy would simply do something so outrageous that they would be forced to take her from the limelight.

  So, Crecy was home again, and seemed to be restored to high spirits, but Belle still worried for her.

  Her thoughts were stalled, however, by her own affairs as a wave of nausea overcame her and she had to sit on the stone wall until it passed. Mary, who had seven younger siblings, one just a few weeks old, had simply given her a smile and a knowing look, and had dashed off the first time it had happened. She’d returned with mint tea and dry toast to find Belle retching into the wash basin. It hadn’t been so bad since, though she often felt as limp as a damp wash cloth before noon.

  Belle took a breath and covered her perfectly flat stomach with a slight frown between her eyes. Spring had come, and the world was fecund and lush. Fat buds burst forth, and the hills were an emerald green, dotted with lambs and swathes of daffodils, bobbing their joyfully sunny faces in the still, chill breeze. It was time for birth and new life, and yet Belle still found it hard to believe that anything of that nature was happening to her. She stared down at her stomach, concentrating on trying to feel or sense anything. What if she were wrong, and it wasn’t a child? What if she were sick?

  She looked up and hauled in a deep breath, feeling better now that the nausea had passed. It was a child, of course it was a child. Stop being so bird-witted, you silly creature. Yet it was too enormous, too wonderful and terrifying, all at the same time. She had never felt so powerful and yet so terribly fragile, so filled with joy and weighed down with terror. Mary had clucked at her and told her not to fret so when she’d admitted as much.

  “My mam said she lost her marbles in the first three months with her first babe, frettin’ bout this, that, and Lawd knows what else. It’ll pass, m’lady,” she said, with the knowing air of a country girl who had lived in close confines w
ith a very large family for all of her life. She’d helped birth her last three siblings, by all accounts, so Belle took her advice and believed her.

  She’d told no one else yet, partly because she was still having trouble believing it and didn’t want to be thought a fraud when she was wrong, and partly because she had no idea how Edward would react.

  Edward.

  She sighed, a stupid smile creeping over her mouth. He hadn’t changed overnight, by any means. He still wasn’t enamoured of company but he seemed to rather enjoy small family gatherings, when the mood took him.

  The boxing club was a great success.

  Once Edward had decided to continue with it, he had thrown himself into it with gusto. He’d declared the old barn unfit for the purpose, and was in the process of having plans drawn up for a new building. It would be closer to the village, and so easier for the young men to get to. Equipment had been ordered from London, and a correspondence with Mr Jackson himself had garnered a promise from the great man to visit early next year. By that time, they hoped the new building would be well established, and some of Edward’s protégé’s ready to show their colours. The news had brought a sense of excitement to the young men that had even infected her husband, and when speaking of his plans for them, he could become almost loquacious.

  The nightmares persisted, though Belle thought perhaps they were less frequent than they had been. But now, she resisted the urge to shake him awake, simply speaking to him, keeping her voice even and calm, telling him where he was, that he was safe, that she was there. Sometimes he woke, sometimes the nightmare faded and he slept again.

  Belle got to her feet again and carried on her way. She was visiting an elderly neighbour, a Mrs Thompson, who was widowed and rather poorly. Puddy had made up a basket of all manner of temptations for the invalid, and Belle hoped that she could coax the proud old lady into accepting it.