by Ruby Hill
Amos held his breath as he saw Esther walk down the aisle towards him, stunned at her beauty. She looked like a floating angel, practically glowing as she walked towards him, a gentle smile on her lips. Letting it out in a rush, he gazed into her eyes as she took his hand, marveling at how his wife-to-be had managed to fill the empty place in his heart.
For so long, he had searched for love, refusing to take a mistress even though his search had lasted for years and his patience had often worn thin. It had been worth it, he thought to himself, turning towards the vicar. She had been worth it.
The bishop had, of course, granted him a Special License as soon as he heard the details both from Amos and Bernard. Amos was now ready to make his vows before God and his witnesses—Bernard and Agnes.
Esther felt a lightness of heart as she held onto Amos's warm hand. It was a joyful ending to what had been a terrible time in her life. The man she had admired from afar had now become her protector, savior, and husband, and she thanked God for His blessing.
Amos smiled into her eyes as he made his vows. “I, Amos Graybury, Duke of Hawdon, take thee, Lady Esther Mary Bertram, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto, I pledge thee my troth.”
In a soft voice, Esther repeated the same words to Amos, her breath hitching as he placed a ring on the third finger of her left hand. She could hardly believe it, seeing it catch the light as it sparkled on her finger. She was now the Duchess of Hawdon.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the vicar intoned. “You may kiss the bride.”
Instead of the customary kiss on the cheek, Amos wrapped his arms around his new wife and kissed her thoroughly, speaking to her of passion, of desire, and of love. A little abashed, she smiled at him as both Bernard and Agnes clapped and cheered, giving their congratulations to them both.
“I love you, Esther,” Amos whispered in her ear.
She turned to him, lifting her hand to his cheek. “I love you, Amos,” she replied, a beautiful sheen of tears in her eyes. “And I promise to love you forever.”
“I will love you forever and a day,” he replied, holding her close and kissing her once more.
* * *
THE END
Part II
A Heart’s Rescue
1
England, 1843
Eliza smiled and held out her dance card, bestowing a gracious smile on the gentleman in front of her. She curtsied, nodded, and smiled some more, grateful that her card was almost full. At least then he could not hound her as he had done these last few days. Letting out a breath, she turned her eyes to the dancing.
"Ah, Miss Williams," a voice said in her ear. "I see your dance card is not quite full. Let me rectify that."
Numb, Eliza allowed the odious man to grasp her wrist before writing his name on her dance card in one of the few remaining spaces. A waltz, no less. He looked at her, all charm and smiles, dropping a short bow before walking away, glancing back at her with a look of triumph.
“Oh no,” Eliza whispered to herself, dropping into a nearby chair. “Oh no…”
“Are you quite all right, my dear?”
It was her mother.
“Yes, Mama, yes of course. I just felt a trifle warm; that is all.” She smiled brightly, attempting to push aside her fear and trepidation. She knew she could not share her burden with Mama.
Her sister danced past her, looking overjoyed at her partner’s attentions, but Eliza knew it was nothing more than flirtation. At least she’s enjoying herself, Eliza thought grimly. Sophie had no idea about the horrific situation Eliza was in – not that she would be of much help.
“Miss Williams, shall we take to the floor?”
It was Lord Stockton. He had signed up for the quadrille, and Eliza was relieved to see him. He has been showing me particular attentions lately, Eliza thought, seeing her mother's beaming smile as she watched Lord Stockton escort Eliza to dance floor.
“Are you quite well, Miss Williams?” Lord Stockton asked as they prepared for the dance. “You seem a little distracted this evening.”
“Do I?” Eliza asked, gazing to the left of his shoulder. "I feel a little fatigued, that is all. I am sure."
Lord Stockton said nothing, dancing the quadrille in silence. Once it was over, he tucked her hand under his arm and escorted her to an empty chair.
“Would you like some ratafia, Miss Williams?” he asked, his face clearly concerned. She smiled in response, trying to ignore the sight of Lord Penn approaching her.
"Indeed, Lord Stockton. Still, I should much rather come with you, if you please?"
Surprised, Lord Stockton did as she requested, allowing her to place her hand on his arm as he escorted her towards the refreshments. However, she was not to make her escape; the firm hand of Lord Penn grasped her arm.
“Miss Williams! Surely you cannot have forgotten that this is to be my dance?”
Lord Stockton, dropping his arm, turned about to face Lord Penn.
“Ah, Lord Penn, how do you do?” He executed a short bow. “Indeed, I would not deny you your chance to dance with Miss Williams, but only on the promise that you will return her to my side once the dance is over!" He chuckled, turning to Eliza. "Miss Williams, I will have refreshments waiting for you upon your return."
Bowing again to Lord Penn, he left her alone. Eliza closed her eyes briefly. Lord Stockton was not to know, but she desperately wished he had not been so much of a gentleman. Had he demanded that she take some refreshment, she might have been spared this dance with Lord Penn.
“Shall we?” he smirked, his eyes triumphant as he took her hand. Resisting the urge to tug it away from him, Eliza allowed him to lead her onto the floor. Odious man! He had chosen the waltz specifically, she was sure. The feelings of his arm around her waist made her shiver as she determined to remain silent, no matter what he said.
“Have you considered my proposal, Eliza?”
Her eyes flashed. She had not given him permission to use her given name. He laughed.
“I can tell that you have. You will see that there is no way out, my dear. You must acquiesce, despite how much it may pain you. You will let me know when I am to take collection of the item? I cannot wait to hold it in my hands!”
Eliza bit her lip, refusing to speak a single word, despite the retort that pressed against her lips. She stared straight ahead, willing the dance to come to an end.
“I will hear from you soon, Eliza. Very soon, I imagine.” He bowed, escorting her from the floor and back to the waiting arm of Stockton, bidding them both farewell. Eliza was not surprised. He had fulfilled his purpose of coming here tonight; there was no need for him to stay.
“Did you enjoy your dance, Miss Williams?” Lord Stockton asked, handing her a glass of ratafia.
“I did,” she replied shortly, wishing she could tell Stockton the truth, but knowing she could not. Lord Penn had made it very clear that she would be forever ruined in the eyes of the ton, should she breathe a word to anyone. She did not know how he would achieve such a thing, but she had no doubt that he would.
Lord Stockton cleared his throat.
“I was wondering, Miss Williams, if I would be permitted to call on you tomorrow? Perhaps a drive through Hyde Park?"
Eliza looked up at him quickly, realizing with a smile that he was blushing slightly. The poor man. She needed to put him out of his misery.
“Of course, Lord Stockton. I should like that very much.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Lord Stockton replied, a smile crossing his face. “I shall call for you at precisely three o’clock.” Seeing Eliza’s mother approaching, he bowed and took his leave, leaving Eliza feeling both excited and happy, Lord Penn’s words completely forgotten.
"My dear!" her mama called, sailing over and taking both of her hands in her own. "I see Lord Stockto
n has been at your side on several occasions this evening."
“Yes, Mama,” Eliza replied, in a quieter tone. “He is coming to call on me tomorrow at three o’clock. We are to go driving in Hyde Park.”
“Oh, my dear! How delightful.” her mama gushed. “Lord Stockton is a wonderful man, and I am sure would make an excellent husband. Rich too! You shall be set for life.”
“Slow down a little, Mama,” Eliza laughed, patting her mother’s hand. “It is merely a drive in the park, not a proposal of marriage.” She bore her mother away to the refreshments, trying not to wonder what it would be like to be Lady Stockton.
2
Anthony Russell, the Earl of Bessington, relished the cool mornings. He could be himself, with no one around to spot him, to enquire after his health or to debase themselves in order to earn his favor. Ever since his father's death a few months earlier, Anthony had found his new responsibilities both wearying and frustrating. There was so much to do that he barely had time to go for a ride; there was always a tenant to take care of, accounts to go through, or debts to pay. He had barely known his father, but was not in the least bit surprised to find that he had left mountains of unpaid debts that had almost critically wounded the estate. It had proved to be much harder work than he had anticipated, but it seemed the estate was finally beginning to turn a profit. And, of course, his mother had organized a house party to celebrate, as if they needed to fritter away money on such frivolities.
She had not taken his criticism well, promising, at least, that he would not have to make much more than one or two appearances. At least that was a relief. He wandered through the woods that surrounded the estate, appreciating the little things, such as the dewdrops on a spider’s web and the colorful toadstools that littered the path. His valet would have a fit when he returned to the house, but Anthony didn't care. His loose shirt, trousers, and old boots were all he required for an early morning walk, the sense of freedom overwhelming his senses. This was what he needed. This was his relief.
* * *
Eliza only half-listened to her mother and sister's eager chatter, her wish that it would not last for the entire journey going unanswered. They would be pulling into the Bessington estate in a few moments, and Eliza could not wait to escape the confines of the closed carriage. Her mother, who was old friends with the Dowager Countess of Bessington, had been vastly excited to receive her friend's invitation to the house party, and, having been asked to arrive one day early before the other guests, instantly made all the preparations—much to her husband's amusement. Eliza's father had opted to remain at home, citing business affairs that required his attention. Lord Stockton would also attend the house party, much to Eliza's delight. Their carriage drives had become a regular occurrence, and Eliza was sure there was a proposal of marriage in their future. To her utmost dismay, she had also been told that Lord Penn would be attending, shuddering as she remembered the letter he had sent.
“My dear Miss Williams," it had read. "I am delighted to inform you that I, too, shall be attending the Bessington house party. What a pleasure it shall be to spend such a prolonged length of time with you. By now, I am certain that you have seen the sense in my proposal. I shall expect you to bring the Williams necklace to the house party and, at the end of the week, it shall be given to me and remain in my possession. If you do not, you know what the consequences will be. Speak to anyone of this matter, and you shall find yourself ruined in society’s eyes, and what will Lord Stockton think of you then?”
Eliza stared out of the carriage window, focusing on preventing any tears from falling—not that Sophie or Mama would notice. Lord Penn had her firmly in his grip, and she could see no way out. He wanted the Williams necklace, the family heirloom that was only worn by Mama on very special occasions, and would, one day, be passed to her. It was made up of jade, diamonds, and rubies and was the family's safety net. Lord Penn had courted her a long time ago, but both Eliza and Sophie spurned his advances, much to his displeasure. It now became clear that Lord Penn was determined to have the Williams necklace, and unless she could find a way out, he would get it. If she did not give it to him, he would call in her father's debts, which would ruin the family entirely. They would lose everything: their home, their social standing, and their chances to make an eligible match. However, Eliza knew that if she did give him the necklace, Mama would be heartbroken and her father furious.
She thought back to the night her father had come home, blazing drunk and shouting about Lord Penn. He had accused him of cheating at cards, one of the most dangerous and dishonoring accusations against a gentleman. Of course, there was no evidence of Lord Penn’s cheating, so the family had tried to quieten him immediately, knowing the scandal that would ensue should Lord Penn hear of their father's remarks. However, Eliza began to think that her father had been correct in his statements, for she was sure Lord Penn would stop at nothing to possess the Williams necklace.
Since that night, her father had never returned to his clubs, not once stayed to gamble or play piquet, never reached for a glass of port or whiskey. He was quiet and unsociable, waiting for Lord Penn to call in his debts whilst saying nothing to his family. Eliza's soft heart ached for him, whilst wishing desperately that there was an easy way out. The Williams necklace was packed carefully in her trunk, taken from her mother’s bedroom without her knowledge. Eliza hoped she could find a solution before the week’s end.
“Violet, my dear,” said Lady Bessington with her arms outstretched as she welcomed Eliza’s mother to her home. “How good it is to see you once more.”
“Catherine, it is as though you have not aged a single day since I saw you last,” Eliza’s mother replied. “Let me introduce you to my daughters. This is Eliza, my eldest, and Sophie.” Eliza and Sophie both gave elegant curtsies to the dowager countess, who studied them both with an appraising eye.
“Both beautiful, I see.” She smiled at them warmly, a handsome woman still, in spite of her years. “You are both very welcome. I do hope that you enjoy your stay here.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Eliza said.
Lady Bessington laughed.
“None of that nonsense, I beg you. You are daughters of my dear friend, Violet, so you must refer to me as Catherine. I insist.”
Surprised at being granted such an intimacy, both girls smiled and nodded, immediately feeling at home with Lady Bessington.
“You have a beautiful home,” Sophie remarked, aware of the magnificent paintings on the wall as well as the plush carpet.
"Thank you, my dear," Catherine replied. "My son has no time for such ‘frivolities,' as he calls them, so he has left the decorating of the house to me. It is something I greatly enjoy." Smiling, Lady Bessington rose to ring for refreshments.
“Girls,” their mother began. “Please go to your rooms and refresh yourselves. I shall be along momentarily.”
Realizing that their mama wanted a long, comfortable coze with her dear friend, Eliza and Sophie nodded, making their way from the drawing room up the grand staircase to their private rooms above.
* * *
The following day, Eliza and Sophie sat at the dining table with all the other guests, who had arrived earlier that day. Eliza was extremely thankful that she was sitting next to Lord Stockton and nowhere near Lord Penn, who was sandwiched between the buxom Lady Durness and the extremely large Lord Hutton.
"Are we to see much of Lord Bessington?"
Eliza's turned to her host, listening carefully for the answer to her mother's question. She had never met the earl who was, by all accounts, a fairly unpleasant individual. The rumors were that he was both extremely boring and incredibly serious, rarely smiling or finding amusement in anything. She would be interested to find out if it was indeed the case.
“I’m afraid my son is extremely busy with estate business,” Lady Bessington replied, a trifle hastily. “We shall see him on occasion, I am sure. He intends to greet you all tonight, although I cannot say exactly when.�
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Eliza thought to herself for a moment, ignoring the rest of the conversation. Was Lord Bessington truly busy, or was he simply avoiding his guests? She imagined him for a moment – a serious, dull man, maybe with spectacles and a constant frown. Smiling to herself, she was thrown back into the present by the sound of her sister’s laughter. Glancing around, she was relieved to find that no one had noticed her lack of interest, although she was slightly perturbed to find that her sister was deep in conversation with Lord Stockton, leaving her out entirely. At the same time, she caught Lord Penn staring at her with a smirk on his face, aware he had her firmly in his clutches. Feeling a little unsteady, she rose gracefully and excused herself from the table for a few moments, choosing to visit the powder room to regain her poise.
* * *
“Ah, Anthony, so good of you to join us!”
Anthony bowed to the seated guests, waving away any attempt from the ladies to rise to their feet. He glanced around the table, noting the empty seat, before returning his gaze to his mother.
“Thank you, Mother, but I cannot stay for long.”
“Not even for a glass of port?” his mother queried, wishing her son were not so dismissive of her guests.
“Perhaps later,” Anthony replied, his interest already waning. “I am afraid I have much work to do on the estate, but I shall endeavor to return later this evening."
Slightly mollified, his mother nodded, accepting his excuses with grace.
“Thank you, Anthony, we look forward to seeing you later this evening.”
Nodding to his guests, Anthony left the room, hurrying back to his study. Whilst it was true that he had much estate business to catch up on, he also did not want to fritter away his time on such things as cards, port, and cheroots. He found such things dull and uninspiring, much preferring a good gallop on his horse or a walk in the woods in the early mornings. Hastening his steps around the corner, he walked straight into a young woman, knocking her back onto the floor.