Forbidden
A Regency Collection
with stories from
Kelly Martin, Nadine Millard
Rachel Van Dyken, Kristin Vayden
Published by Blue Tulip Publishing
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN, KRISTIN VAYDEN,
NADINE MILLARD, and RACHEL VAN DYKEN
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
FORBIDDEN: A REGENCY COLLECTION
A WINTER WISH
Copyright © 2014 NADINE MILLARD
FOR THE LOVE OF A LADY
Copyright © 2014 KRISTIN VAYDEN
CLOAKED IN RED
Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN
THE DEVIL DUKE TAKES A BRIDE
Copyright © 2014 RACHEL VAN DYKEN
ISBN: 978-1-942246-17-6
ISBN 10: 194224617X
Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design
A WINTER WISH
by Nadine Millard
CHAPTER ONE
"Yes, Mrs. Callahan, I understand that it hurts but I really do think removing it is a little excessive."
Mariah repressed the urge to bash the older woman with her own reticule and tell her to stop being ridiculous.
Dr. Bolton, Mariah's father, had a packed surgery today as he did every other day and though it was unorthodox he allowed Mariah to help out every so often, like this morning.
As the only surgeon in their small village, as well as the only apothecary, Dr. Bolton was constantly in demand. He was coming to rely on his eldest daughter's head for medicine more and more, though Mrs. Bolton despaired of them both.
But really, it wasn't as though this were London or even one of the big cities of York or Edinburgh. This was a village in Lancashire, where Mariah had lived her whole life.
It wasn't the done thing at all for a young lady to be working in her father's surgery. But everyone here had known Mariah her whole life and trusted her implicitly.
Besides, they would rather be fixed up quickly than hang about waiting for potions and poultices that would take much longer just for the sake of propriety.
Usually Mariah loved helping out. She got to use her talents for herbs and see plenty of her friends and their families at the same time.
Usually it was enjoyable. Today it was nothing short of painful.
"But the pain, Mariah," whined Mrs. Callahan.
Mariah sighed inwardly then tried again. Every week it was some new malady. Every week there was some dramatic ailment or other. This one, however, was amongst the most ridiculous.
"I understand, Mrs. Callahan, really I do. Burns can be very sore indeed. But I promise you, applying this cream will set you to right in mere days. Wouldn't you rather that than lose a finger? How will you bake your delicious pies and cakes without your finger?"
Mrs. Callahan, mercifully, seemed to get momentarily distracted by the compliment and Mariah pressed her advantage.
"The Christmas Fete will be a total disaster without your baked goods as you well know. And our vicar is far too old and fragile to deal with such a disaster, do you not think?"
Mrs. Callahan tried and failed to suppress her gleeful smile.
"Yes, I suppose you are right, my dear. Nobody could deal with the sheer volume of baking. And I am, after all, the only one with the secret recipes. But it is terribly sore," she demanded, making sure Mariah still knew how she suffered.
As if I could forget! "I am sure it is and I can tell you, on behalf of the whole of Wymouth, we appreciate you struggling on to save the Fete."
At this, Mrs. Callahan beamed once again.
Gathering up the cream and her variety of belongings, she bid a valiant farewell and bustled outside, forgetting to clutch her hand as she had been doing on the way in.
Mariah heaved a sigh of relief and went back to her cough remedy. This one was in high demand and Mariah wanted to make sure she had plenty at hand.
A cool wind signalled the arrival of someone else through the door and she looked up with some trepidation.
Even Mrs. Callahan couldn't have injured herself in the past twenty seconds!
Thankfully, it was merely the vicar's wife.
"Good morning, Mrs. Yates," Mariah greeted her with a smile.
"Good morning, Mariah. How pretty you look today."
Mariah smiled at the compliment, the same one she'd been hearing from Mrs. Yates since she had been a small child.
"What can I do for you today? Is the vicar's gout bothering him again?"
"Oh, no, my dear. Your elixir is truly working wonders with him. No, I've come with rather a strange request. I wonder if we might speak privately for a moment?"
Mariah's interest was immediately piqued.
"Yes of course, come through," she said, leading the way to a small sitting room at the back of where she kept her supplies.
Only moments before, she had brewed a pot of tea, and thankfully it was still warm, so she set about pouring some for them both.
Once they'd settled down with their teacups, Mariah looked at Mrs. Yates expectantly, her hazel eyes shining with curiosity.
"I wonder if you've heard that somebody has bought Greywood Manor."
"Oh, really? Why that's wonderful," enthused Mariah.
Greywood Manor had been the seat of the only Peer that had ever lived near their small village. Old Sir Thomas, a baron, had died without ever having an heir of his own and apparently some distant nephew or cousin or other had inherited.
The village gossip was that the nephew, or cousin, was a bit of a gambler and had immediately set about trying to sell the place to fund his habit.
Mariah had been fifteen when Sir Thomas had passed away and in the five years since there'd been no word of a buyer.
"Isn't it? It will be so nice to have the place returned to its former glory."
"Indeed," said Mariah, brushing a chestnut lock from her face. She was still unsure as to why Mrs. Yates wanted to speak to her but she was too polite to hurry the lady along.
"Anyway, the place has been bought by a Mr. Brandon Haverton. Comes from a very well respected family in the south somewhere."
"How odd that he should have bought it then, if his family is in the south."
"Yes, I thought so too. But apparently he has a lot of business interests around Lancashire and Yorkshire. Mills and such things. So he wanted somewhere to stay here rather than frequent inns whilst here on business."
Mariah nodded her understanding.
"Anyway, I am sure you are wondering what this has to do with you."
"A little," she confessed with a smile.
"When Sir Thomas's heir inherited the place, you know he did not even visit. Mr. Haverton has already hired a staff to clean the place out and prepare it for his arrival. However, there are plenty of valuables; books mostly, you remember how fond the old man was of his library. And I fear the local village girls just do not have the knowledge required to sort through such a place. It is a rather monumental task."
Mariah's heart quickened. Everybody who knew her knew how passionate she was about books. And the Greywood Library was something she'd been itching to see since childhood.
"I know how busy you are with hel
ping your father, my dear so please do not feel that there is any pressure to accept. But Mr. Haverton's solicitor had asked if there was a suitable person to go through the library and make note of its value and general condition and, well, Mr. Yates had thought that you would perhaps consider it?"
Mariah almost yelped in her excitement.
"Oh, Mrs. Yates. I would love that."
The older lady smiled indulgently.
"Yes, I thought you might," she said now reaching into her reticule and pulling out a letter. "Here are the instructions from Mr. Smith, Mr. Haverton's solicitor. Apparently the gentleman is hoping to have taken up residence in time for Christmas so ideally he would prefer if matters were settled by then."
Mariah did the calculations in her head.
"Four weeks until Christmas day. When does the gentleman plan to arrive?"
"The week before, if I am not mistaken."
"And what is it that he wants to do with the library?"
"As to that I am not sure. The letter says that he wants it catalogued before he makes any decisions. The furniture in the house will be used. The personal artefacts such as portraits of Greywood family members are to be stowed away, out of sight."
Mariah had begun perusing the letter as Mrs. Yates spoke.
"It says here that they will arrive before Christmas. The gentleman has a family?"
"No, indeed. He is quite unattached. I have no idea who is accompanying him. How strange."
Mariah nodded in agreement but did not feel as though it was any of her concern. She would be gone before the family arrived. It was a lot of work to be sure. But she was more than capable of handling it.
Mrs. Yates stood to take her leave after receiving plenty of assurances that Mariah would be there tomorrow to work through the library and that her father could manage without her for some weeks.
As she reached the door, Mrs. Yates turned to Mariah.
"Mariah, dear. I – that is, well…" The lady hesitated, and Mariah was surprised to see that she looked worried about something.
"Yes, Mrs. Yates? Is anything the matter?"
"Mr. Smyth hinted at a rather, um, cantankerous nature when discussing Mr. Haverton. He is most assuredly a gentleman, albeit a rather sullen one by all accounts. I should not wish you to be at the receiving end of ill manners or a bad spirit."
Mariah thought of the curmudgeonly souls she dealt with daily in assisting her father. Though she supposed she knew them well enough to handle them.
"Please do not worry. I am quite sure I have met more than my fair share of sullen gentlemen in my time. Besides," she continued with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, "if I am accurate and quick in my work, I shall not even set eyes on the man."
Mrs. Yates seemed well pleased as she took her leave and Mariah was finally free to feel excited. How wonderful to take on such a project. Her curiosity was piqued by the new owner, no doubt. But she was far too pleased about the opportunity to worry overly much about bad tempered strangers.
If Mariah was pleased with the events, Mrs. Bolton was certainly not.
"For goodness sake, Mariah, what possessed you to agree? You have no need to take on paid work. What will people think?"
"I do not care a jot what people think, Mother," Mariah answered firmly.
"No, you never have. But will you have no consideration for your poor sister? For this family's good name? Why people are sure to think that we need you to work. Do you not understand? People will think we're—" Mrs. Bolton raised a hand to clutch her string of pearls. "—poor," she finished in a horrified whisper.
Mariah bit her tongue so hard she could taste blood.
Her mother, even now after years of marriage to a respectable surgeon, who was lovely but only a surgeon, still had delusions of grandeur.
Having been the youngest of seven children born to a baronet of little consequence, Mrs. Bolton had rather bizarrely managed to convince herself that she was gentry of great importance. Everyone was used to her, of course. Dr. Bolton indulged her because it was less painful for his ears and head. Mariah constantly butted heads with her but even she was tiring of the tantrums and so usually just said nothing, for the sake of peace.
Lillianne, however, Mariah's younger sister, was unfortunately an almost exact replica of their mother.
She joined in the remonstrations now with ill-concealed relish.
"Mother is quite right, Mariah," she sniffed, her perfectly coifed chestnut curls bouncing with each curt nod. "Why, people already think it bizarre that you help out in Papa's little shop."
It was a testament to how little time Lilly spent in reality that she referred to the surgery and apothecary as a "little shop."
"Nobody seems to mind when I am assisting them."
"Yes, well. Sick people are as uncaring as they are disgusting. But you may rest assured that once they are recovered they are very much aware of how unorthodox this all is."
"Too true," chimed in Mrs. Bolton, not to be outdone in sheer idiocy. "Do you know how much we've had to spend on new gowns and such just to stop the rumours of our financial ruin?"
"If you keep spending so frivolously it won't be a rumour," said Mariah and then immediately regretted it as it set off a bout of wailing and whining that even their dog ran away from.
Mariah's father, who had up to this point remained sensibly silent, cleared his throat then cleared it again louder before finally resorting to a near coughing fit to get the ladies to listen to him.
"My dear," he began in a soothing tone, "I appreciate your concerns and they are valid."
He shot a warning look at Mariah's very unladylike snort.
"However, consider if Mariah had said no. The whole village would be aware that she had refused to help the new arrivals, the very wealthy new arrivals I might add. And, that she had embarrassed the vicar of all people, for not adhering to his recommendation."
The tears abruptly stopped, not that they were real to begin with.
"Oh, my dear you're right. Oh, how wonderful."
This was a quick turnaround, even for her mother.
Mariah glanced at Lilly and saw that she was just as confused.
"Lillianne, you must go with your sister."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You must go with your sister to Greywood Manor. If what I hear about Mr. Greywood is true, he is not only rich but single."
"Ah, I see," said Lillianne with a smile.
"Well I don't," said Mariah.
"Mariah, dear, I have long given up hope of you using your natural beauty to your advantage. No doubt you will have your head buried in books and other nonsense for the entire time that you are there. Thankfully," she went on loudly to drown out Maria's sudden objections, "your sister was not only graced with beauty but with a healthy desire for a good match. Something you are sadly lacking."
"I fail to see what this has to do with my working in the library, Mother. I can't just–"
"It has everything to do with it. Lilly will go to assist you."
"What?" shouted Lilly, horrified at the mere thought.
"Calm down, dearest. You're not going to actually work for Heaven's sake. But you will be there to keep the gentleman company whilst Mariah breaks her neck trying to heft books about the place."
Mariah thought that her mother didn't have to sound quite so happy at the idea of her breaking her neck.
"A wonderful plan, Mother. Except for one thing. Mr. Haverton won't be at the house whilst I am there."
The atmosphere changed immediately from one of scheming joy to fury.
"What do you mean?" her mother asked through clenched teeth.
"I mean, he won't be there. I am to prepare the library and be gone before the family's arrival."
"Well you must wait longer to do it, is all," said Lilly, but Mariah could see that her mother, whose ears were razor sharp when she thought she was either getting gossip or information she could use to her advantage, had heard "the family."
&
nbsp; "Family?" she questioned.
"Family," confirmed Mariah.
"He has a family?"
"Oh yes, a huge one," Mariah lied gaily. "Children coming out of his ears and no doubt his wife is as beautiful as she is – er, fertile."
"Mariah!" her mother admonished but Mariah could see her heart wasn't in it. Her dreams had just been shattered. The fact that they were only about two minutes long wouldn't matter a jot to her mother.
"Ah, well. Try not to be too disappointed, Lil, I'm sure you'll manage just fine with the suitors you're already in possession of."
"You're not going."
Now it was Mariah's turn to stare in astonishment at her mother.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You are not going," her mother enunciated each word carefully.
"Of course I'm going. You heard Papa just now about the vicar and the gossip."
"Yes, I did. And he makes a good point. But if there are no opportunities for you or your sister, I fail to see the benefit."
Mariah could not believe what she was hearing but she knew that this was a delicate situation and one which required careful handling.
"The benefit, mother, is that I will do such a good job with the library that Mr. Haverton is sure to be pleased and call on me to thank me."
Mariah saw no sense in informing her mother that it sounded like the man wouldn't know manners if they ran over him with a chaise and four.
"Then, not only will you be the first acquaintance of his in the entire village, excluding Mr. Yates and Mr. Thompson but—"
"Who is Mr. Thompson?" enquired Lilly suddenly, possibly sensing fresh meat.
"The solicitor who has lived in the village since before you were born," said Mariah. "Honestly Lilly, how can you not know him?"
Lilly shrugged and went back to her dinner, once again uninterested in the conversation.
"As I was saying Mama, we would be the first family to know him. And from what Mrs. Yates said about his desire to be sociable, we will quite possibly be the only family to know him."
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