A Lord in Disguise
By
Fenella J Miller
Chapter One
The clearing in the forest was deserted, apart from the two horses who stood patiently waiting for the duel to be over. The early morning mist swirled around their feet. Edward knew this was a catastrophic error on his part. He had tried to call it off but his opponent, Lord Jasper Bentley, had refused. His second, Lord Richard Dunwoody, shifted uneasily beside him.
'Let's forget it, Edward, better to be called a coward than arrested for duelling.'
'I should not have let myself be provoked by him. The feud between our families has gone on long enough. I should have walked away.'
'I was there, he insulted your betrothed. He all but called her a light-skirt. He left you no choice.'
Edward stiffened. There was a definite sound of a carriage approaching. Too late to back out now. 'I'm not going to do more than wing him. I doubt he'll hit me, he's notorious for being a poor shot.'
'Can't think why he chose pistols, he would have done better with a rapier.'
The carriage was just visible through the mist. He saw one coachman on the box, and three men descended. Good God! Bentley had brought a sawbones with him.
'I sincerely hope that neither of us will need his services. You had better go and check the weapons he has brought.'
His friend strode across and the murmur of voices carried across the empty space. If the mist didn't clear it would be foolhardy to continue as they would be unable to see each other clearly. Then the sun rose above the treetops and the place was bathed in magical golden light. Hardly appropriate for what was about to take place.
Lady Jemima Babbage, his beloved future wife, knew nothing about this and he hoped she never would. He was the luckiest man in Christendom to have her for his bride. They had been engaged for three months and their nuptials were to take place at the end of June, in two months' time.
Richard walked back with a pistol in his hand. 'Shall we get this over with? We need to be away from here before the constables become aware of what is taking place.'
Edward shrugged off his jacket and handed it over. He took the weapon and checked it was loaded. He was an excellent shot and was confident his bullet would do no more than graze the shoulder of his opponent. The matter would be settled, they could both ride away relatively unscathed.
Papa was aware and he had his full support. The feud between the Bentleys and the Stonhams had begun fifty years ago when his grandfather had eloped with the intended bride of Bentley's grandfather. The fact that the grandsons of the two perpetrators were about to face each other, because of something that happened so long ago, was ludicrous. What had happened was nothing to do with either of them – high time the disagreement was put aside.
The two seconds paced out the required distance and he took his place. He stood sideways making himself the smallest target possible. Bentley did the same. There was the usual count of three and he flinched as the other man fired. The bullet missed.
Edward steadied his breathing. Held his arm still and pulled the trigger. To his horror Bentley staggered back clutching his chest and his white shirt was suddenly a hideous red. His instinct was to run forward and offer his assistance but Richard grabbed his elbow.
'Away, we must go. If he dies you're for the gallows. I can hear someone galloping towards us. The authorities must have discovered us.'
He pulled on his topcoat and raced for his horse. He should have thrown the pistol away but still had it in his hand as he vaulted into the saddle. He shoved the weapon into his pocket, his boots into the stirrup irons, and kicked his stallion into a gallop.
They travelled across country, jumping the hedges and ditches, and arrived in a skid of gravel outside his family home an hour later. He tossed the reins to Richard and hurtled into the house.
There was not a minute to lose. He would have to flee the country, risk being captured by Napoleon's troops if he went to France or take a boat to the colonies. The authorities would be informed and despite the fact that his father was the Earl of Rushmere, and he his sole heir, he would be arrested.
Better to be in exile the rest of his life than bring such ignominy on his family name. The woman he loved was now lost to him and all because of his own stupidity.
He was about to ascend the stairs when his father called him back. 'My study, son, we can talk there.'
When Edward explained what had transpired his father was as shocked as he. 'I can only surmise that the weapon you were given misfired. Too late to repine. We must make the best of things as they are.'
'At least if I am overseas I cannot be hung if the wretched man dies. Forgive me, Father, I must not delay if I am to be away before I am taken.'
'I have another suggestion for you, my boy. When you told me about this duel I prepared for this eventuality. Your dear departed mother inherited a substantial estate in Suffolk, a county somewhere in East Anglia, and it has been occupied by a tenant for years. Recently the old man died and the place is vacant. You will assume a new persona and take over this place. Although we will never be able to meet again in this lifetime, it would be far too risky to do so, at least I shall know you are alive and well.'
'I don't know what to say. I am still reeling from the shock of what happened. Quickly, can you tell me everything I need to know about this place?'
'First I must tell you your new name. In future you will be known as Edward Trevelyan, Esq. You had not expected to inherit this property, had no monetary expectations and are thrilled to find yourself a wealthy landowner.' He pointed to a stack of documents on the desk. 'Take these and read them on your journey. They will tell you everything.'
Edward poured himself a large glass of brandy. His father was, as always, three steps ahead of the game. 'I cannot take my valet, he might be recognised, and neither can I take any of my horses or hounds. Therefore, I shall arrive with meagre belongings and start afresh.' He drained his drink and closed the gap between them. 'I shall miss you, Papa, I hope you can forgive me for ruining our lives.'
His parent embraced him – not something he did often – and cleared his throat noisily. 'I have set up a bank account for you in the local market town, Ipswich, you must travel by stage and take only the barest minimum with you. Godspeed, my boy. I hope that one day you might meet and marry a young lady and provide us with an heir. You cannot inherit, but my grandson will be able to do so.'
The thought of becoming involved with another young lady filled him with horror. He had never thought to fall in love, had thought this a flummery business, but then he had met Jemima and everything was different. He swallowed a lump in his throat. 'Can I ask you to contact my betrothed and explain the situation?'
'Of course, of course. Now, do not delay any longer. I have arranged for one of the grooms who is about your height and build to travel to Dover in our carriage accompanied by your valet. They will take the next ship that sails and hopefully this will be enough to put the constables on the wrong track.'
'I shall slip out through the tradesmen's route. It is no more than a mile or two along the track to the toll road. I'll take the next coach that comes.'
His father had thought of everything. Sending a decoy to France was a master stroke. Bates, his manservant, was a clever man and the two of them would dispense with the disguise at the earliest possible opportunity and then make their way back as common folk.
As he was changing from his elegant ensemble the pistol bumped against his thigh. This might come in useful so he pulled it out of the pocket and dropped it into the bottom of the battered carpetbag that had been put by for him to use. Bates had laid out a set of garments that normally would only be worn in extremis. They would be ideal
in the circumstances.
The sound of the carriage outside on the turning circle made him move to the window. He smiled ruefully as the groom who was to play the part of himself, strode from the house. He was wearing his beaver pulled low over his eyes and the collar of his greatcoat turned up. Bates hurried along behind carrying two large bags. They jumped into the carriage, the door slammed and it thundered off down the drive.
The family crest was emblazoned in gold on the side of this vehicle and at the speed it was travelling it could not fail to be noticed by anyone who saw it.
Bates had already put in his shaving gear, a bag of golden guineas, two shirts that had seen better days, a spare pair of breeches and two pairs of stockings. This would be sufficient until he had established himself as the new owner of this estate and was able to purchase fresh garments.
He looked down at his boots and decided that these he would keep; even a young gentleman with little expectations might have a decent pair of Hessians.
*
'Penelope Bradshaw, I absolutely forbid you to do so.'
'Mama, I cannot see a viable alternative to my applying to the position as housekeeper at Ravenswood Hall.' Penny smiled patiently. Her mother was still living in the past, in the heady days when they had owned and resided at Bradshaw Manor and had lived in the lap of luxury. All that had changed when her younger brother, Benedict, had been lost at sea along with dear papa a year-and-a-half ago. The estate had been entailed and an obnoxious distant cousin had inherited everything. They now lived in straightened means on a small annuity in the village of Nettlested.
'You are a Bradshaw, you do not come from the servant classes. Your poor father would be turning in his grave to hear you say you intend to apply to be a housekeeper.'
'Mama, we can barely manage on the pittance we have. I have two younger sisters who will never find themselves a suitable husband if I don't do something to improve matters. It is too late to complain, I delivered my application yesterday.'
Her mother sniffed noisily and dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief. 'I shall never recover from the shame.' She pursed her lips and added. 'Exactly how much will you be recompensed for giving up your time in this menial manner?'
'I intend to ask for twelve guineas a year, plus being allowed to supplement my income with food from the kitchen garden and larder.'
'That is almost satisfactory, Penelope. I don't suppose you will be able to ask for anything in advance?'
'It shall be one of my stipulations, Mama, do not worry on that account. Charlotte, being the daughter of the rector, has been able to supply me with all the information I need. The new owner of the estate, one Edward Trevelyan, did not expect to inherit and has no knowledge of how such a substantial establishment should be run. The old gentleman who has been living there for the past thirty years had only the barest minimum in staff and the place is sadly run-down. I shall be able to restore it to its former glory. After all, did I not run Bradshaw Manor successfully for you?'
'You did indeed, my love, as you know I have always been in indifferent health and unable to fulfil my responsibilities. Your dear papa understood how fragile I am and never asked me to overtax myself.'
Penny hid her smile behind her hand. Her mother was as robust as any woman of her age might be, she was indolent and not inclined to take responsibility for anything. It had fallen on her shoulders to run the house whilst her father and brother travelled on business to India and other exotic places. It had also been her that had replaced the governess in educating her younger sisters when she had been released and they had moved to this dilapidated house.
From the racket coming from the music room, a misnomer if ever there was one as there were no musical instruments to be seen, she was failing dismally in that role. Her sisters were lively, intelligent young ladies and were running wild. This was why she had thought to apply for the position at Ravenswood. She was hoping that when Matilda, seventeen years of age, found herself in charge she would rise to the occasion and begin to behave with the decorum expected of a young lady.
After all, they were members of the aristocracy, even if they were at the bottom of the pile. Her father had been Sir Bernard Bradshaw, her mother was still Lady Bradshaw, their circumstances had changed but they were still well born. She hoped her pedigree would be an asset rather than a hindrance when it came to her application.
Mr Trevelyan had arrived a week ago. Her application had been delivered two days ago. If he was interested in employing her then she should hear today. The weather was remarkably clement for the beginning of May, more like late summer than late spring. Despite the shabbiness of the house, the grounds were looking their best. They had brought with them four ancient retainers who were too old to continue in employment for the new owners of their ancestral home.
Three of these were outside workers and so they pruned and clipped and planted thus making the gardens attractive and allowing her to fill the house with blooms. The fourth servant had been the butler and he continued in that role although they did not really require his services anymore.
They had no livestock, if you did not count the dozen chickens in the yard at the back, or the two cats and one very large, scruffy mongrel that had been in residence when they arrived. She also employed a widow and her two daughters who had been in a similar position to them – evicted from their tied cottage when the man of the house had died.
She had taken to pulling back her hair in a most unbecoming way in an attempt to make herself look older. She was also wearing her plainest gown, a dull, grey cotton in the old-fashioned style. She had a wardrobe full of pretty dresses with the high waist, but these would not do if she was to work for her living.
An unexpected hush from her sisters gave her pause. Then the two of them erupted into the drawing room. 'Penny, there's a gentleman strolling up our drive. I think he must be Mr Trevelyan come to see you about the job.'
'Then I shall receive him in the library. Kindly keep your mother company until he has gone.' They both knew what she really meant was not allow their parent to intrude on the interview.
There was barely time for her to settle herself behind the desk when she heard a loud knock on the front door. It would take Foster an age to get there, she hoped the visitor would not abandon hope and go away.
A full ten minutes later the decrepit butler staggered into the doorway. 'A Mr Edward Trevelyan to see you, Miss Bradshaw.' The old man was wheezing horribly and Penny forgot she was supposed to be sitting behind a desk looking efficient and ran to his aid.
Before she reached him Mr Trevelyan was there and put his arm around Foster's shoulders. 'Allow me, sir, to assist you to a chair.'
'Thank you, I shall fetch him a brandy. We keep some for medicinal purposes in the bureau.'
The drink seemed to help and the horrible rasping noise stopped. Foster's colour began to return to his ashen cheeks. 'I'm perfectly well, now, thank you, Miss Bradshaw. I apologise for my…'
'You'll do no such thing, Foster. I told you to stay in bed today and take care of yourself. We shall get you there now, and Tilly shall take care of you until you are well again.'
The gentleman she had hoped to work for nodded. 'Come along, Mr Foster, put your arm around my neck and I'll get you to your bedchamber.'
As they emerged from the library Matilda was waiting looking anxious. 'I don't think dear Foster should be upstairs in the attic. I've had Tilly prepare the bedchamber in the apartment downstairs. He'll be far more comfortable there.'
'Thank you, Mattie, I should have thought of that myself. Mr Trevelyan, if you would be so kind as to follow me, it is just at the end of this passageway.'
She left her sister to settle the patient and then led their visitor back to the library. 'I do apologise for inconveniencing you, sir, but the welfare of my staff must always come first.'
He smiled and for the first time she was aware that he was an attractive gentleman. Fair hair and blue eyes did not usually appeal to h
er, but the fact that he was also more than two yards high and had a satisfactory breadth of shoulder, made him very personable.
'There is absolutely no need to apologise, Miss Bradshaw. Might I be seated?'
She flushed painfully at this omission. 'Yes, please do.'
He waited politely until she too had found herself a seat. 'I am assuming that you are living in straitened circumstances because of a family catastrophe?'
It had not been her intention to reveal too much about herself but she could hardly refuse after he had been so helpful. She finished her explanation. 'Therefore, you will see that I am an ideal candidate for the position of housekeeper. At the moment you have no staff; I know everyone in the vicinity and can appoint your household for you.'
'I had come here with the intention of offering you the position, but now I have met you I think it would be unwise. You are an eligible young lady, becoming a servant is not acceptable.'
She jumped to her feet in agitation. 'What is not acceptable, sir, is being unable to put food on the table for my family and dependents. I am unmarriageable but my sisters are not. I'm hoping that once you are entertaining I might find them suitable partners amongst your guests.'
His eyebrows rose and she wished the words unspoken.
Chapter Two
Unmarriageable? Edward was about to correct her on that erroneous assumption but decided it would be unwise in the circumstances. Miss Bradshaw might construe his comments as having an interest in her himself, which was as far from the truth as it could be.
The girl was certainly pretty – not at all in the common way. She was taller and thinner than was considered fashionable in the ton, her hair was an ordinary mid brown but her eyes were quite extraordinary. Huge, lustrous and an amazing mix of green and brown.
Her family might be impecunious, but they were obviously genteel. She was staring at him and he realised he hadn't responded to her last remark.
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