Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  Eleanor looked at him with speculation. She didn’t trust him after what had happened at the ball but his attitude right now with her and her family seemed very genuine. There was absolutely no way that he was faking it; it was definitely his own true self. But there was still what she had heard him say about her family at the ball in London. He had been rather rude and blunt about them to the extent of great insult. But seeing him right now made her doubt her own ears over what she had heard back then.

  She couldn’t help but think that perhaps he had said what he had said just for the sake of Lady Spencer in order to avoid conflict. He did seem like one to detest mindless quarrels and baseless arguments. And yet, he had said what he had said with so much conviction—as if he truly believed what he had been saying. Watching him talk, she suddenly realized that after everything that had happened, she still felt a certain affinity towards him. Sighing to herself, she focused on the goose and potatoes on her plate. She knew that he would be gone soon, probably within three to four days and then it would be as if he had never been here. Till then, she would just have to keep a hold on her emotions and thoughts.

  As supper ended, the family stood up to exchange pleasantries with their guest and escort him out the door. As Beaufort stood in the hallway, adjusting his gloves as he said his good bye to her aunt and uncle, she thought of how truly refined and well-mannered he was. Someone who thought lowly of people like her and her family wouldn’t care to be this courteous towards people he considered his inferior. She curtseyed towards him as he looked at her and muttered a quick good bye. As he walked out the door, he turned around and addressed her.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon here?” asked Beaufort.

  “What ever do you mean?” she asked, blinking quickly in her confusion at what he had said, “For what?”

  “Oh I forgot to tell you!” exclaimed her aunt, “Just this morning, His grace was talking about how he needed someone to show him around the place so I suggested that you take him into the orchards.”

  “What?” she asked, feeling rather incredulous at the proposal.

  “Aye!” replied her aunt with a smile, “So you don’t have to clean out the coop like we planned to, eh? You’ll spend your evening with the duke.”

  “So, see you at one, my Lady?” asked Beaufort with a smile and a tip of his hat towards her.

  “Surely, your grace,” she replied before curtseying quickly and rushing up the stairs to her chambers.

  As she heard her uncle exchange the last of the pleasantries and the sound of the front door being locked, she walked to the window and peered out, down the road. She saw Beaufort strolling towards the center of the town like a man without a single worry or care in the world. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner before she turned around to see her aunt smiling smugly at her from the doorway to her chambers.

  “Quite charming, ain’t he?” she asked before walking off with the same smile plastered on her face.

  She sighed as her shoulders slumped. She felt no need to protest against her aunt’s assumptions since she wouldn’t believe her either way. Feeling exceptionally intrigued by the man’s behavior, she turned to her book of Shakespearean plays and started reading from where she had left off in the hopes to distract herself from Beaufort and what she was beginning to feel for him. As she opened the book, her eyes fell on a single line that made her groan and chuck the book away. It read:

  The course of true love never did run smooth.

  Chapter 8

  Unexplored

  Beauty

  A s Beaufort rode down the road in North Yorkshire towards Eleanor’s house, he couldn’t help but think how the rather simple girl wouldn’t leave his mind. It was as if he couldn’t think of anyone but her. Even in London, when he hadn’t seen her around for a few days, he had decided to talk to her sisters at a gala, inquiring about her absence. It was then that he had learned about her departure to North Yorkshire on the next morning of the ball because she didn’t like it in London.

  He had felt extremely guilt-ridden when he had heard of the development. He had felt as if it was his fault that the girl had decided to leave. They had had quite a confrontation the night before and he had been waiting around for her to apologize for what he had said, but he never got the opportunity to. For the sake of an unburdened mind, he had ridden for North Yorkshire the next day under the pretext of exploring new opportunities for investment.

  As he had arrived in the small town, it had hit him that how hard it would be to find Eleanor in such a place. He felt like an outsider in his well stitched, London clothes while the surrounding people wore simple tunics. They looked at him in his highborn clothes, atop a town horse and with a pistol hanging at his waist and seemed to feel great distrust. Beaufort could see in their eyes that they considered him an outsider and an anomaly. It was not often that a duke would travel to such a place alone, even if he were seeking possibilities of investment.

  Despite the setback, he located Eleanor very easily. He had just wandered into a local tavern and had asked the bartender about a family that went by the name of Bryant. He had immediately pointed him towards Eleanor’s aunt’s house; who wasn’t technically a Bryant but was renowned because of her sister. In fact, he was surprised to know that the Bryant family’s success story had made them famous in the area. After that, it had been easy to track her down, and now he was going to explore her family’s orchard with the girl. For the first time in a long while, ever since his childhood, he felt nervous about the outcome of the day.

  For some unknown reason, he truly wished for the girl to like him and think well of him. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone for a long time, this inexplicable desire to impress. In fact, it went even farther than that; he was happier when he was around her and he wished to be around her whenever they were apart. All his thoughts lead him back to Eleanor Bryant. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was falling for the girl. As much as he cringed from the thought of it, the feeling was irresistible. As he approached the small cottage, he saw Eleanor standing outside the door, wearing a simple sundress and a hat.

  “Running late, your grace?” she asked in a rather taunting manner as she curtseyed slightly.

  “Perhaps,” he replied, smiling, “Haven’t really checked my watch all morning.”

  “What’s the point of having a watch, then?” she asked as he approached her and dismounted from his steed.

  “Just for the sake of having a watch,” he replied to which she rolled her eyes and walked off towards a large cluster of trees in the distance. After a few steps, she turned around and ushered him forward.

  “Come on, then,” she said, waving an arm at him, “I thought you wanted to see the orchard with me.”

  “I was under the impression we would be taking my horse?” he asked as he followed her after looping his horse’s reigns around a stump outside the house.

  “Nay,” she replied, shaking her head, “Horses and orchards don’t mix. He’ll be reaching out for every apple in the trees.”

  “Of course,” he replied as he caught up to her.

  Silently, they walked together towards the orchard in the distance. Beaufort looked towards her to find her staring straight ahead as if she was in some deep thought. She truly looked beautiful even though her physical appearance was nothing more than ordinary. But there was something about her, something that attracted him to her. He sighed and then looked ahead too. They walked in silence until they reached a fence which Eleanor unlocked with a small key. She held the wooden door open for him as he walked into the orchard.

  “Shouldn’t the fence be higher?” he asked her as she locked the door behind her.

  “It be tall enough to keep out all them animals,” she replied with a shrug, “What more does one need?”

  “Protection from possible thieves in the town?” he asked her as he raised an eyebrow at her naivety, “I’m surprised this orchard hasn’t been stripped clean to the bark.”
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  “There are no thieves in the town,” she replied with a laugh as she walked ahead again, “We all know each other.”

  “But there are wicked people everywhere,” he protested, “Surely you need to be more careful.”

  “Aye, there be wicked people,” she replied with a shrug, “But the people of this town are like a family. Not even the worst person in the world would steal from his own family, would they? Besides, why steal when you can ask?”

  “Of course,” he replied, awed at her reply.

  They walked on for a while in silence until Eleanor started talking. She told him of her family’s history and how her father had built up so much from absolutely nothing. She spoke of her father with a certain pride, with her head held high. It was obvious that she truly valued her father’s hard work beyond anything else. Beaufort loved how she spoke with pride but wasn’t boastful at all. Neither was she trying to impress him as most women would. Instead, she was expressing how she felt in the purest and truest of forms. Beaufort suddenly felt a very strong wave of affection towards her as she talked. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around to face him.

  “Want to see something truly beautiful?” she asked him excitedly, “I just remembered that it should be almost time.”

  “Never one to shy away from beauty,” he replied, nodding his head.

  “There’s a bit of a struggle to get there, though,” she said with a smile.

  “Never one to shy away from a challenge, either,” he replied with a laugh, “What kind of struggle?”

  “You’ll have to climb a tree,” she stated with a chuckle, “Come on!”

  And with that, she skipped off towards their left. Shrugging, he hurried off after her, afraid that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. The last time he had climbed a tree was when he was ten and even then, he had fallen off. But he was glad that Eleanor was finally opening up to him and he wanted to do nothing to disrupt that. Deep in the orchard, Eleanor stopped at an extremely tall looking tree that seemed to rise to the canopy.

  “Eleanor, I don’t think any scenery is worth climbing to the top of the tree,” he muttered, knowing well enough that he would never be able to climb it.

  “Who said anything about the top of the tree or scenery?” asked Eleanor, turning towards him. She pointed to a small groove in the tree about twelve feet up and said, “We need to get there.”

  “That seems rather easy,” he replied with a frown, “But what’s so beautiful up there?”

  “You’ll see,” she replied before leaping upwards and grabbing a strong stem.

  As she struggled to pull herself up the stem, Beaufort walked to the other side of the tree and did the same. As they climbed the tree among grunts and groans, they soon found themselves hanging on the same groove that Eleanor had pointed out from the ground. He rested his feet on a stem as he stood on the tree and looked towards her, raising an eyebrow.

  She shushed him before reaching out slowly and gently pulling away a cluster of leaves to reveal a well-hidden nest. In the nest, there were five small eggs, about the size of the first joint of his thumb. As Beaufort looked at them, the eggs wobbled and small cracks started to appear on the greyish shells. Right before their eyes, the eggs hatched and small, featherless birds appeared in their place, calling for their mother.

  “Let’s go,” whispered Eleanor, an odd sort of smile on her face, “Before we scare them.”

  Feeling extremely blessed to have been witness to such a phenomenon; Beaufort was at a loss for words as he descended the tree. Jumping the last few inches down to the ground, he turned to Eleanor who was beaming at him enthusiastically. Beaufort smiled back, unsure of what to say.

  “Don’t see that in London, do you?” she asked him cheerfully.

  “Surely not,” he replied, looking directly into her eyes as he took a step towards her.

  “Unexplored beauty,” she muttered, looking up at the tree.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied, his eyes fixed on hers. She looked at him, mimicking the intensity of his gaze.

  “Makes you never want to leave from here,” she whispered, looking straight at him as they inched closer.

  “Never,” he whispered back. They were inches apart now when suddenly Eleanor jumped back a step.

  “We should head back,” she muttered, looking away from him.

  “Yes, we should,” he replied, nodding as he turned away from her.

  They walked out the way they had come in silence, an awkward sort of net around them. Beaufort felt hurt and confused as he walked, unsure of what had happened and what to do about it. He had never been in such a situation before. As they exited the orchard, they saw that Eleanor’s aunt stood at the fence, pacing around the pathway. Seeing them emerge, she rushed over immediately, looking extremely worried.

  “Is something the matter?” asked Eleanor, “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Letter from London,” she replied, breathing heavily, “I’m afraid it’s grave news. Your sisters are on the way here.”

  Chapter 9

  Little Miss

  Royalty

  T he same day that Eleanor saw Duke Beaufort ride for London, she stood outside her aunt’s door, waiting to welcome her sisters. Their mother had fallen tremendously ill and had been bedridden for a while before she started bleeding from the mouth and was taken to the hospital in the city. Since then, her father had been at his wife’s side through all of it. Feeling as if leaving the house to his three daughters in the vast city of London would be inappropriate, he had decreed that they return to North Yorkshire immediately.

  When she had heard the news, Beaufort had been with her. She expected him to stand by her and to help her through it but he left the minute he heard. First, he rushed to the mills and then he rode straight towards the London, without even a proper good bye. His departure had left her in an even worse state that she already had been after hearing the news. Now, she stood waiting anxiously for her sisters’ arrival.

  After a few hours, she saw a carriage approaching, much like the one that had brought her to North Yorkshire from London. The carriage stopped right in front of her and the door popped open. Looking extremely gloomy and sullen, Anne stepped out of the carriage and gave her a tight hug. She looked as if she had been crying. Next came Laura whose eyes were an angry shade of red and puffy around the edges. She gave Eleanor a rather quick hug before darting into the cottage. Henrietta, however, looked as if she hadn’t shed a single tear. She looked angry beyond measure.

  “Don’t say anything to Henrietta,” whispered Anne into her ear, “She’s going to snap at you worse than she ever has.”

  Eleanor stayed quiet out of fear as Henrietta walked by her, refusing to even acknowledge her presence. Feeling teary eyed, she ran off towards the orchard without looking back. Anne called at her but she paid no heed and went straight to the tree with the new born baby birds. Sitting at its base, she wept into her hands, unsure of whether it was her sister’s attitude that had her in tears or the longing for someone to hold her hand; someone who had been with her what seemed like moments ago under the same tree.

  Darkness fell around her as she sat there. It was only when she heard the owls start to hoot did she get up, brush the dust and dirt off her dress and headed back towards the cottage. Ducking behind the outside wall, she hastily darted into the house and up the stairs, not wanting to run into her aunt or uncle. Breathing heavily, she entered the chamber that she would now be sharing with Anne and found all three of her sisters in the same room. She paused before turning around and making to leave immediately.

  “Stop,” called Henrietta making her pause and turn around, “What were you crying about? Your dying romance with Romeo?”

  Eleanor blinked thrice, quickly, confused about what Henrietta had just said. Only after looking closely did she see that her sister held her collection of Shakespearean plays open in front of her. From the print, she recognized one of her favorite passages of when
Romeo declares his love for Juliet. She had book marked the page so it would have been very easy for Henrietta to find it. She looked towards her other sisters, hoping to get some answers but Laura refused to look at her and Anne had nothing but apology and regret on her face.

  “What do you mean?” she mustered up the courage to ask. She then gestured to the book and said, “And that’s mine so put it back.”

  “I mean that I have heard all about your blooming romance with Duke Beaufort,” she replied snidely, “So you think he loves you, you talentless little girl?”

  “It’s none of your business,” she retorted, feeling herself going red in the face.

  “It is my business,” she replied in a dangerously calm tone, “It’s all of our business. Father’s and mother’s too, because as we struggled in London due to the lack of money, you were here enjoying long walks and dinners with your own Romeo, were you not?”

  “What do you mean, ‘lack of money’?” she asked, confused more than ever. She took a deep breath before turning to her favorite sister, “What is she talking about Anne?”

  “Stop, Henrietta,” muttered Anne without looking at Eleanor, “Da did not want her to know. Not yet.”

  “I think that’s because Da doesn’t know of what she’s up to here,” retorted Henrietta, fury burning white in her eyes, “How she’s boasting around her wealth to get men like Duke Beaufort to go on walks with her!”

  “I never!” exclaimed Eleanor.

  “Yes you did! Why else would a duke even look at you?” shouted Henrietta, “It’s about time that little miss royalty here knew the hard truth!”

  “Shut up, Henrietta!” screamed Anne.

  “The truth that we’re poor again!” shouted Henrietta, “That Da lost his Spanish investor because of their war with Britain! And that the reason we are here and that mother is sick is because we had to empty our new house because Da couldn’t make the payments!”