Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  “I can do no such thing, I fear.” Huntingdon said. “My lady, if I may in turn be as frank with you: I am enchanted by you. I find myself compelled to be by your side. I have never felt this before with any other woman. I am to know who you are. If your family is agreeable to me, and I promise you they will be once we have been introduced, I aim to court you. If you fear me because I took the liberty of kissing you I would ask again that you forgive me. I assure you I will not repeat my actions.”

  The curve of her lip tilted upwards, and a flash of naughtiness sparked in her eyes.

  She said, “Since I will not meet you again, sir, I believe I should set your mind at rest on that action. I am a modest woman, sir, but that kiss was wholly reciprocated. I enjoyed it, and I will think of it again, but I pray to you now to let me go. If you are any gentleman, do not find me, and do not think of me again.”

  In his time as a rake with London’s fairest, Huntingdon had often been accused of being callous, when he had only meant to be frank. Women seemed to swoon over him the ruder he was, and he had often thought that it was only because of his title that they pursued him. He wondered now if his rudeness had awakened in them the same feelings that this blue-eyed girl did to him. Wanting to uncover the mystery that lurked at the center of her being, and to convince her that he was her equal. He was not a man to be so easily tossed away.

  A thought struck him then, that perhaps her reluctance stemmed from a different man, who could not be tossed away.

  “Are you married?” asked Huntingdon. “Has a Gulliver already reached Lydia?”

  “Yes,” She said, unhesitatingly. “That’s why I do not wish to see you again. I’m married.”

  He would have felt a stab of disappointment, but given the way she grabbed onto his suggestion, he found himself disinclined to believe her.

  She saw him looking and knew her lie had been caught. Sighing, she said. “Very well, forgive my lie. I am not married. But, good sir, I entreat you now to let me go.”

  “I am not so cruel as to block your way if you wish to leave me,” He said. “Nor do I flatter myself that you feel so early the love that I hope to inspire in you, and that you have awakened in me. But I beg you to forgive me, my dear lady, for I shall spend the rest of my days attempting to find you. You cannot ask me to leave the page of this book unturned.”

  “I do not believe in your protestations of love, my good sir,” she said. “I think it far more likely that rescuing me relieved the boredom you felt today, and you have mistaken that emotion for love.” She sighed and curtsied to seek his leave. “I also give you fair warning sir that I shall make sure that you are never able to seek me out.”

  He bowed, closed his eyes and turned away to give her a chance to escape, almost feeling like a child playing hide and seek. When he opened his eyes, she had gone, and he was alone in the still forest. A few hours ago, he had run away from his friends to be alone and would have welcomed the sight as a welcome sign of solitude. Now it only made him feel empty.

  Chapter 3

  Sir James To Be Married

  “T here you are.” Sir James Walpole exclaimed. “Huntingdon my man, what parallel universe do you vanish to? My valets have been searching high and low for you. Come at once. We must be off to Gillingham Manor to see to the arrangements for my wedding.”

  “Beg your pardon for my impudence, my lord, but perhaps a change of dress would be advisable before we venture to Gillingham Manor.” Topsley, Sir James’ footman commented.

  Sir James took a proper look at Huntingdon and exclaimed. “Good god, did you have a thousand and one adventures, man? You look like you’ve thrown yourself through every thorn bush and puddle between here and London.”

  “I’ve had a busy afternoon James.” Huntingdon commented. “I’ve lost my copy of Gulliver’s travels, I’ve rescued a woman from drowning and I do believe I’ve met the love of my life.”

  “Pshaw man, you’re always too easily convinced you’ve met the love of your life. I don’t believe a word you say. But what’s all this about losing a book?”

  “I thought you’d be a little more interested in hearing about my rescue of the drowning woman.” Huntingdon said.

  “My good man, knowing your gallantry and bravery in battle, I have no doubt that rescuing drowning women or men or goblins is all in a day’s work for you. But knowing your eternal love for books, I’m greatly surprised how you lost it. At any rate, we must discuss this in the carriage. I can wait no longer to go to Gillingham Manor.”

  “Of course.” Huntingdon smiled. “Your beautiful betrothed awaits you. A minute, James, and I will be back.”

  It took a little longer, but soon he was back, wearing a green velvet coat, tan riding breeches, and a solitaire pinning his cravat in place. His hair was still a little damp, but the rest of him looked as proper as a mannequin in a Paris boutique. In the carriage on the way to the Manor, Huntingdon told his oldest and best friend the entire story of his afternoon, which James listened to with patience.

  “I must say,” James said. “I’ll retract my earlier statement. You seem to have genuinely strong feelings about this woman though if they stem from love or a fancy for adventure I cannot tell.”

  “I thought of that myself.” Huntingdon said. “But I am still convinced it is love, James. There was something about her, an ethereal quality, and a sort of haunted look that makes me want to take her in my arms and protect her from whatever or whoever she fears.”

  James pondered this. “Well, my own beloved Julia has no haunted look about her, but I do know that I feel the same way. But honestly Huntingdon, you’ve broken a few too many hearts with your rapid passions that fizzle into nothing. For your sake I hope this is one of them.”

  “Enough about my passions, man.” Huntingdon said. “Tell me, how goes it with you? You are to be married on the day after the morrow! Good god man, are you not shivering with fear at being bound for life?”

  “Fear? I fear that time has slowed down and the morrow will never appear.” Sir James laughed. “I cannot wait to claim my bride, Huntingdon. Oh, I cannot wait to introduce you to her. She is unlike any woman you have ever met before. She is the best woman in the world, I declare.”

  “To be a fit bride for the best man I know, she had better be.” Huntingdon bowed.

  “Well, I have to warn you, you’re going to meet a few of your classmates from Eton here. Her brother Hugh Montacute and her cousin Felton Montacute. I don’t know them because I was much older, but I’ve heard tales.”

  Huntingdon wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Felton was a right character, wasn’t he? Did you hear about the time when the master had to cane him good for running a gambling ring in an empty classroom?”

  “He was in his cups every week too though no one knew how he smuggled in the booze.” Sir James laughed, remembering.

  “As for Hugh, I can’t say I have much fonder memories of him. Was he not the boy who dove from the roof with a cord attached to his leg?”

  “That’s the one. He smashed two windows and was sent to the infirmary for a week. But Hugh’s a different man now, Huntingdon.” Sir James lowered his voice. “A terrible tragedy befell Julia’s family two years ago.”

  Huntingdon leaned forward, interested.

  “Hugh, like his cousin Felton, had become involved in too many vices, drinking, gambling, opera girls. His father, abjectly sick of the whole thing, decided to take the entire family to France for a few months. My darling Julia, his youngest sister, stayed behind with her Aunt. However, Hugh, his mother, his father and his twin sister Caroline all went to the French Riviera. They decided to sail by themselves on a private boat, as his father was an expert sailor and a decorated commander in the Navy. Apparently, Hugh was in his cups and managed to sink the whole boat one night. The mother, the father, and the sister all drowned. Ever since, he’s been a near recluse. He never talks to Felton anymore. No more drinks or gambling for him. Hugh stays shut up in that ghastly Manor, and bar
ely even speaks to Julia. I believe he regrets what he has done deeply.”

  “The poor lad,” Huntingdon said. “But how does Julia fare? It must have been a horrible shock to her.”

  Sir James looked unhappy. “Julia does not talk to me about their death, even though I have tried to draw it out of her. I believe it affected her deeply, but she seems to think that I only want her when she is cheerful, for a guarded look comes upon her when I attempt to discuss her family. Sometimes, Huntingdon, I wonder if she loves me as much as I do her.”

  Where another man might have protested that this could not be so, Huntingdon only replied, “I believe, my friend, that I shall be the judge of that, for here is Gillingham Manor.”

  Chapter 4

  Meeting Hugh

  U pon entering the manor, the carriage first passed by large iron gates. Beyond these lay a marble fountain of a dragon that was breathing water, and a lion roaring above it. Finally, in the distance, between two large orchards of plum and apple, lay Gillingham Manor. It was so named for the stairs that led up to it; marble steps that contained within them amethyst inserts of the moon in all its stages. It was a large grey mansion; a mirror image twice repeated. It featured double-barreled windows on each side, a bell tower at its very center, and spiked towers towards each end. From the front, through large doors of oak, you would view chandeliers of crystal. Despite the splendor, Huntingdon was surprised that it did not have that incessant bustle and noise one would expect in a place where a wedding was soon to take place. Instead, as they stepped out of their carriage, Huntingdon and James were greeted with a thick silence.

  “James!” from the upper balcony, a girl waved to them, and the melancholy air seemed to vanish at her appearance. Julia, James’ fiancé, was a tall girl, very slim, with thick braided black hair that fell almost to her ankles. Her eyes were a deep grey, and they seemed to dance with joy on beholding James. Huntingdon wondered how his friend could ever doubt that a girl who looked at him this way could be anything but fully in love.

  A butler appeared to receive them, and two footmen to lead the carriage away to the stables. As they climbed the stairs up to the mansion, Huntingdon gave a start. A slender boy had appeared on the balcony beside Julia. He was only a little taller than Julia though a large beard and shaggy eyebrows marred his features. A shaggy powdered wig of the French style lay on his head.

  “Who was that with Julia just now?” he asked James, as they waited alone in the parlor for Julia to come join them.

  James looked surprised. “Her brother Hugh. I thought the two of you were classmates?”

  “I dare say he has changed after all. I barely recognize him now.” Huntingdon said.

  “Is it the beard?”

  “Well, yes and no. I suppose his features are the same, but there’s more to a person than just their features. The Hugh I remember had an air about him, absolutely cocky, completely at ease with the world. This poor boy looks anxious and unhappy.”

  James nodded. “As I said, the tragedy changed him.”

  Julia entered the parlor now, with her brother, and both Huntingdon and James made their bows. Introductions were done shortly, and Julia soon suggested that they should be shown around Gillingham Manor. The tour began well enough, with Hugh leading them through the gardens, the plum orchards, and the pond. By the time they had wandered back to the manor, Julia and James had somehow managed to vanish into the gardens together, leaving Hugh and Huntingdon alone.

  For an old classmate, Hugh had said not one word directly to Huntingdon. He had been a reluctant guide, only very rarely saying a sentence or two. Pointing things out and letting Julia tell them about the history or background of the manor. Now that they were alone, Hugh seemed even more ill-at-ease. Huntingdon tried to begin the conversation by recalling a few old classmates, but Hugh only answered with a nod or a shrug, his eyes never meeting Huntingdon’s.

  A little irritated now, Huntingdon wandered over to the paintings that lined the great banisters, examining the Montacute family that had lived for generations in the manor.

  “Ah, Archibald Montacute. You have some resemblance to the first lord.” Huntingdon smiled, looking from Hugh to the painting of a slender man with thick eyebrows and a bushy beard.

  Hugh coughed, and edged a finger between his neck and collar, twirling it nervously. He tapped his feet a few times and nodded his head.

  Huntingdon, recalling him as a lad who had been banished from class more than once for his incessant chatter, felt bad for the poor fellow. Tragedy had indeed changed him. He gave up trying to make conversation and resolved to move to the library to borrow a book. His eyes fell on a painting and he stood frozen in shock.

  It was her! The girl from this afternoon! He blinked, trying to be sure, but the portrait was unmistakable. The same blue eyes, the gypsy air, the dark curls. The painter had done a fine job, for he had not only stayed true to her features but also managed to bring out her personality. The portrait gave off a hint of the mischief and mystery that was wrapped up in her.

  “Is this your cousin?” Huntingdon asked in excitement. “I wonder, good man if you could tell me?”

  Sir Hugh went pale, and for the first time, Huntingdon noticed how similar his eyes were to the girl in the portrait. The cheekbones, the shape of his face, the tilt of his lips. Could it be…?

  “My sister.” Sir Hugh said, in a thick, cracking voice. “That is my twin sister Caroline.”

  “No, it cannot be. Caroline was…” Huntingdon stopped, horrified at himself. Caroline had been killed, Huntingdon had been about to say. But who knew that better than the man responsible for her death, Sir Hugh himself?

  Chapter 5

  Nocturnal Visit

  “I s she a ghost then, your mysterious woman?” asked James, later that day.

  Huntingdon had unburdened his tale to his best friend, now that they were back in the inn. He paced around the fire in his room while his friend sat sipping a brandy.

  “No. The woman in the portrait was the woman I met today. But the woman I met today was no ghost or illusion. She was as real as you and me.”

  “Perhaps this is a cousin then? A family member who looks like Caroline?” James suggested.

  “I tell you, the woman in the portrait is the woman I met. There cannot possibly be two like her. As I said, a person is much more than their features. The artist captured her personality too, and I would know her anywhere. James my man, I’m sorry to say this, but I fear something untoward is happening in that castle.”

  “I fear for your sanity, Huntingdon.” Sir James said. “Perhaps these novels you read have affected your mind. Are you sure it was not all a dream?”

  Huntingdon shook his head. “You have known me all your life, James. Have I ever seemed to you like I would confuse reality with a dream?”

  “Well, you were always imaginative and fond of wild stories…” Sir James said. Then, seeing the anger on his friend’s face, he added. “No. I suppose I’m only wishing it were so. The truth is, Huntingdon, that I too fear something is wrong at Gillingham Manor.”

  Sensing a hurt behind his friend’s word, Huntingdon immediately sat next to him. “Is all well between you and Julia? You expressed doubts about whether she loves you earlier, but from what I saw today she is undoubtedly devoted to you.”

  “Devoted she may be, and yet sometimes I feel as though she is hiding something from me. I feel as though she does not truly wish to marry me.”

  “Rubbish. Why would she not? You are well matched in rank, beauty and breeding. Plus, you both clearly adore each other.”

  “That may be so, yet she has this look in her eyes sometimes. This guarded look that makes me feel I do not know her at all.”

  Huntingdon flung a stick into the fire and watched the flames snap as they consumed it. “Enough,” He said. “James, you are to be married on the morrow. You cannot have doubts like these in your mind. As for me, I am quite convinced that Sir Hugh is hiding something, and I k
now that something has to do with Caroline. James, I say we act now. Let us storm into Gillingham Manor and demand answers.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, man. We shall do no such thing.” Said James. “It would be highly improper.”

  “Have I ever given a care about what is proper?” asked Huntingdon. “Come with me. Now. Your bride will give you the answers you wish.”

  “Huntingdon, you talk as though you have consumed a bottle though I have not seen you touch a drop today.” James laughed. “Man, even if we did storm the

  castle and create a row, it would only spoil my wedding. Sir Hugh would not permit me to meet his sister at this ungodly hour, and quite rightly so.”

  “Then let us go quietly.” Huntingdon said. “I suggest we sneak in. You will go to your lady’s house and I shall go to the library.”

  Any lover is only a few inches away from being an adventurer, and James, even though he had been with his beloved all day, ached to see her again. So, jumping at his friend’s suggestion, he acquiesced. In an hour’s time, the two were riding into the night, and two hours hence, they had reached the edge of Gillingham Manor’s orchards. They tied their horses to a tree and with some skill, managed to open one of the lower windows of the house and gain entry into the manor.

  “We will meet again in a few hours by the horses,” James said, taking his friend’s leave.

  Huntingdon, determined to look for a clue, decided to visit the library, his instincts telling him he would find an answer there. Cupping a candle in his hands, he slowly edged his way through the rows of books.

  The library was immaculate. A huge collection from around the world, with texts translated from Sanskrit, German, Latin, and Greek. Each tome had been meticulously arranged alphabetically according to the title. But in the section marked “G”, Huntingdon paused in triumph. One book was missing from its spot. Where this book should have been, instead was an empty hollow where no dust had collected, indicating that it had only been recently removed.