To Marry a Marquis

by Melinda Hammond

  'But of course. Once I am working for him I shall not be able to have my maid in attendance.'

  'And does Elliot know?'

  'No,' said Rosamund, 'And I do not mean to tell him, at least until it is all agreed, so I beg you will say nothing of it, Bella.'

  'Very well, if you insist.'

  'I do. This is very important to me, and since your cousin seems to think I cannot manage these things for myself, I shall take great pleasure in proving him wrong.'

  CHAPTER TEN

  At precisely two o'clock the next day Rosamund was on the doorstep of a neat, freshly-painted house in Dover Street. The cold had deepened overnight and a slight fall of snow had left icy patches on roads and flagways. Rosamund huddled into her fur-lined pelisse and buried her hands in her muff to protect them from the raw wind that was biting at her nose and cheeks, despite her veil. She knocked resolutely and shifted impatiently from one cold foot to another. At length, the door opened and she was shown inside. She was heartened when the servant indicated that she was expected, and led her up the stairs to a spacious drawing room.

  'Oh.' She stopped in the doorway. 'I thought Mr Harkstead would want to see me in his office, or study?'

  'I was instructed to show you in here, Miss.' The footman's patent indifference was unnerving.

  Rosamund found her courage seeping away. She squared her shoulders and moved into the room towards the fireplace.

  'Very well,' she responded cheerfully. 'I will warm myself here by the fire while I wait for Mr Harkstead.'

  It was very warm in the room. The fire has obviously been burning all morning, and Rosamund was cheered by this: Mr Harkstead must be a man of easy means to afford such a luxury. In her albeit limited experience, most households only lit fires in a room just before they were used. She heard the door open and turned to see that Mr Harkstead had entered.

  'Good day to you, Miss Beaumarsh. I am delighted you could come.'

  'We made an appointment sir,' she said briskly. 'It would not be very business-like of me to let you down.'

  'No, no, of course not. Let me help you to take off our coat. I am sure you will feel more comfortable. And perhaps your bonnet? You will feel the benefit more when you go back outside. Dear me, what was Perkins thinking, not to help you with them? That's better. Now my dear, come and sit down beside me here, on the settee.'

  Rosamund would have preferred a chair, but the only one near the fire now held her coat and bonnet. She sat on the edge of the settee, suddenly ill at ease. She tried to concentrate.

  'When would you want me to begin, sir?'

  Mr Harkstead smiled at her.

  'I thought we might begin today. No point in wasting time, is there my dear?'

  She ran her tongue over her dry lips.

  'No, I suppose not. But there are things to be discussed first.'

  He moved a little closer.

  'Such as?'

  Rosamund shifted away and found herself pressed against the carved mahogany arm of the settee.

  'S-salaries, sir. And - and contracts.'

  Mr Harkstead waved a hand.

  'Oh I do not think we need to worry about contracts. I have never found it necessary in the past.'

  'H-have you not?'

  'No. My previous ladies have all been very happy with the terms.'

  'Oh.' Rosamund was surprised. 'You have had other ladies working for you, sir?'

  'Why yes, of course. I do not think you will find me ungenerous. Would you like to take off your gloves, my dear?'

  She swallowed and tried to sound briskly efficient as she drew off her kid gloves.

  'You would like me to take some notes for you, perhaps, or, or draft a letter so that you can see how neatly I write? You will surely need some evidence of my abilities.'

  'Yes, yes, we will come to that.'

  'Then perhaps you will show me where you would like me to work, sir. Do you have a desk for me, perhaps?'

  Mr Harkstead's pale eyes widened a little.

  'A desk? Why yes, yes, all in good time. For now we will start in here, I think.' He took the gloves from her and tossed them aside. 'I confess I was a little surprised when you approached me last evening, my dear. I did not realise Ullenwood was quite so liberal about these matters.'

  She frowned. 'What matters, sir?'

  'To keep you in his house, and under his aunt's nose, too.' He took her hands. 'I commend him for that, but then, you are not quite in the common style. One could be mistaken for thinking you were perfectly respectable.'

  She looked down to see that he had pulled her hand on to his thigh. She snatched it away.

  'I am perfectly respectable! I think – oh!'

  Before she could move he had pounced on her, taking her in a surprisingly strong clasp and covering her mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Rosamund struggled, the wooden arm of the settee digging into her back as he pushed against her. Panic shuddered through her. She squirmed, sliding off the seat and on to her knees to escape him.

  'No, no, Mr Harkstead, this is not what I had in mind,' she gasped.

  'Well it is precisely what I had in mind!'

  He reached for her again. With a shriek she tried to get up but he caught her arm and pulled her down on to the floor. She struggled furiously and heard the muslin around her neck tearing. He pinned her to the floor.

  'Now, now my dear,' he panted, his breath hot on her face. 'You cannot promise me so much and then say me nay.' He began to unbutton the fall flap of his knee breeches.

  'Mr Harkstead! I told you I wanted to work for you: as a clerk.'

  'Nonsense. I know exactly what you were asking of me. So, let me try the merchandise, my dear, then we will talk terms.'

  'No!' she turned her head to avoid his mouth, struggling and kicking. Her foot knocked over a little side table, but she could not dislodge his weight pushing down on her. His hands were reaching for her bodice now, ripping away her muslin fichu. She tried to grab his wrists, almost sobbing with frustration.

  'What the devil do you think you are doing?'

  Lord Ullenwood's furious voice thundered around the room. The next moment Harkstead's crushing weight was lifted from her. With a shuddering cry, Rosamund turned on her side and curled up, sobbing. She hardly noticed the sounds of punches and grunts, or the crash of breaking furniture, but then there was silence, and she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  'Ros?' the marquis was kneeling beside her, speaking softly. 'Has he hurt you?'

  She took several deep breaths, trying to recover her senses.

  'N-no, not really. I-'

  'How dare you come into my house and assault me!' Mr Harkstead's voice, quivering with anger, cut across her. I will have you thrown out. Perkins, Perkins!'

  'If you are calling for your man he is lying at the foot of the stairs,' barked the marquis. He turned back to Rosamund. 'Can you stand? Let me help you.'

  'Thank you.' She climbed unsteadily to her feet. 'I am better now,' she said, but her fingers clung to his hand.

  'You scoundrel!' shrieked Harkstead, advancing a little, but still keeping a chair between him and his assailant. 'I will have the law on to you! I have friends in the government'

  Rosamund winced and shrank against Lord Ullenwood, who put his arms about her.

  'I am sure they will be interested to learn how you tried to seduce an innocent lady,' he snarled. 'Now be quiet, Harkstead, or I shall be obliged to knock you senseless.' He removed his arms from around Rosamund and stepped over to pick up her pelisse. 'Come, put this on. I will take you home.'

  She did not move. Shock had given way to remorse and Rosamund felt the tears beginning to sting her eyes. The marquis gripped her shoulder and gave her a little shake.

  'You must be brave a little longer, Ros.'

  Drawing another, shuddering breath she nodded and straightened her torn fichu, then she allowed him to help her into her pelisse. Her hands fumbled with the buttons and he pushed them aside and fastened it for her. When he had
finished she picked up her bonnet and managed to tie a creditable bow.

  'That's better.' The marquis smiled encouragingly. 'Here.' He put the string of her muff over her head and held out her kid gloves. 'You will need these, it has started to snow.' He led her to the door, then stopped and turned back to face Harkstead, who was still standing behind a chair, an angry bruise beginning to darken his cheek. 'For the lady's sake I shall take this no further,' he said, his voice cutting like steel. 'But should I find that any word of this has leaked out, I will hunt you down and destroy you, sir, do you understand?'

  With the marquis standing beside her, Rosamund was able to steal a look at Mr Harkstead. He was glowering at them, but his hunched shoulders and frightened countenance turned her fear to pity. She squeezed Lord Ullenwood's arm.

  'Please, let us go.'

  The winter's day had reached a grey, overcast twilight and as they stepped out onto the street the icy air caught in Rosamund's throat and made her gasp. She clung to Lord Ullenwood. He glanced down at her.

  'Shall I find a cab?'

  'No, I would prefer to walk, I think.'

  'Be careful, then. The path may be slippery.'

  He led her along the street. It was snowing lightly, tiny flakes that swirled across the icy ground. Rosamund screwed up her courage to speak.

  'Why did you come for me?'

  'Arabella told me what you were about. She was uneasy that you had gone out without your maid, and came to me for advice.'

  Rosamund hung her head. 'I think I have been very foolish,' she said in a small voice.

  'Damned foolish,' he said brutally.

  She bit her lip. 'No doubt you will say I should have listened to you.'

  'No. You are such an innocent, I should have made it clearer just what could befall you.'

  They had reached Piccadilly and Rosamund hesitated.

  'I, um, I do not want to go back just yet. They, that is, Bella will be looking out for me, and I am not ready…'

  'Then let us walk in Green Park,' he suggested. 'It is only a little out of our way, and it will give you time to compose yourself.'

  He guided her across the busy thoroughfare and into the park. The icy weather had driven off the crowds and even the hawkers were now hurrying off to find warmth and shelter. Very soon they were alone on the path and the falling snow muted the sounds of the traffic until they seemed to be walking in a silent world of their own. Rosamund knew she had to thank the marquis for coming to her rescue and started haltingly to express her gratitude. He cut her short.

  'If you had told me of your plans I could have warned you against it. Whatever possessed you to go and see that man alone?'

  'I heard that he is very well-respected, and he told me himself how busy he has become with all his charitable works.'

  'And I suppose you offered him your services.'

  'Yes.'

  'Good heavens, girl, surely you must realise what he thought you were offering?'

  'I do now, of course, but last night, it seemed so simple…'

  He gave an exasperated sigh.

  'Harkstead, of all people! The man would have had to be a saint to resist you. Harkstead may be involved in a dozen good works but he is no saint. Damnation, I almost feel sorry for him.'

  'Well I do not,' she retorted with a flash of her old spirit. 'I m-made it very p-plain to him that he had mistaken my meaning and he, he s-still t-tried to –' she broke off, hunting in her reticule for her handkerchief. Lord Ullenwood drew out his own and handed it to her. After giving her a moment to wipe her eyes he said again, 'I still do not understand how you settled upon Harkstead.'

  She blew her nose defiantly.

  'You think I did not listen to your advice, but I did. From what you said I had already decided that a young man would not suit, and then Mr Mellor pointed out that a married man might find that his wife objected.'

  'Undoubtedly.'

  She winced, but carried on.

  'So, so I thought that an older man would be the most suitable.' She drew a deep breath: 'I was wrong and I am very sorry to have put you to so much trouble.'

  'You deserve to be whipped for what you have done,' he retorted. 'I told you from the start that this scheme of yours could not work.'

  'Yes, you did. I should have paid more heed to you.'

  'And it is unnecessary,' he continued as if she had not spoken. 'If you really cannot bring yourself to marry me, then I have already said that I shall make you an allowance.'

  She stopped. 'You would still marry me after, after what has occurred?'

  'Nothing has occurred. Harkstead will keep quiet about today, believe me.'

  'But –'

  'No, it is obvious to me that you need someone to look after you.' He reached out and lifted her veil, gently dropping it back over the crown of her bonnet. 'Well, Miss Beaumarsh: shall we be married and put an end to all this nonsense?'

  She stared up at him, her thoughts in chaos. She did not consider herself romantic, but occasionally she had allowed herself to dream of receiving a proposal of marriage. Never in her wildest imaginings had it been in such a setting, in the fading light of a snowy winter's day with the cold pinching at her toes.

  'Are you sure that it is what you wish?' she asked him.

  'I have already explained to you that I must marry. I think we should rub along together very well, but if you would prefer it, I will settle an allowance upon you and you may have your independence. I will find you a house and a suitable companion, although at this moment I can think of no one who could prevent you from indulging in these mad-cap schemes of yours. Put that rational mind of yours to work for a moment and consider how convenient marriage would be for both of us.' He smiled down at her and she forgot about her icy toes. 'You had as well marry me, my dear and be done with it.'

  She swallowed. Suddenly she was too tired to fight for her independence any longer. What did it matter that they did not love each other? It was time she put aside such childish dreams and considered her future logically.

  'Very well, sir, thank you. I would be happy to be your wife, if you think we should suit.'

  'Good. Then let us go back and tell Bella and my aunt the news. They will both be delighted, I am sure.'

  They began to retrace their steps. It was snowing harder now and by the time they reached Piccadilly the road was turning white with snow settling on top of the ashes that had been thrown down on the icy cobbles. There was not much traffic, but as they approached the turning to Ullenwood House they heard shouts from a little farther along the road. The air was filled with the shrill, frightened neighing of a horse and the noise of scraping metal.

  'There has been an accident,' said Rosamund, peering through the gloom. 'Someone is hurt! Do let us go and see if we can help.'

  As they approached the scene, the nature of the commotion was clear. A wagon was resting at a drunken angle on the remains of a shattered wheel. A young boy was standing in front of the two draught horses, trying to hold them steady and being almost lifted off the ground as they raised their heads and snorted anxiously. A crowd was gathered on the flagway and Rosamund could not see past them, but Lord Ullenwood stepped forward and looked over their heads.

  'By heaven – James! Make way, let me through!'

  Rosamund followed closely as he pushed his way through the crowd and she saw Sir James Ashby lying on the ground, one leg lying beneath him at an unnatural angle.

  'What has happened here?' demanded the marquis.

  A heavily built man in a cap and muffler who was kneeling beside Sir James stood up and touched his forelock.

  'Dray horse fell on 'im, guv'nor. One of the wheels collapsed and all mayhem broke out, see. This gentleman stepped forward to help and the mare slipped on the cobbles.' He gave a little shrug. 'It's my dray, you see, guv'nor. Thankfully, though, the 'orse is as right as rain.'

  Sir James had been lying with his eyes closed, but now he opened them.

  'That you, Elliot? Damme but
I am glad to see you. Can you get me out of here? I hate being gawped at like some freak show.'

  Rosamund had thrown back her veil and dropped to her knees beside the injured man.

  'I think the leg is badly broken,' she said. 'We must get him indoors.'

  'We can carry him home,' offered the drayman eagerly.

  'My house is closer,' muttered the marquis, kneeling to inspect the injured leg.

  'Yes, let us take him there, but quickly, it is too cold for him to be lying here,' said Rosamund urgently. She turned to the drayman. 'We will need something to carry him. Pull out one of those window boards, we can use it as a litter.'

  'But we was just about to shut up,' objected the shopkeeper, who was part of the crowd.

  'Then your assistant can help to carry Sir James to Ullenwood House,' replied Rosamund. 'That way you will be sure of getting your shutter returned to you. And you, boy.' She gestured to a tow-headed youngster who was staring open-mouthed at the proceedings. 'You look like a bright young man: would you like to earn yourself a shilling? Run and fetch the doctor. Bring him to Ullenwood House and you will find a shilling waiting for you – and an extra sixpence if you are especially quick! Can you tell him your doctor's direction, my lord?'

  The marquis had been attending to Sir James, but now he nodded and gave the boy the information. As the boy ran off, he turned back to his friend.

  'I think your leg is broken, James. We will have to move it very carefully.'

  'Aye, do what you must,' gasped Sir James, his face very white. 'Only hurry up about it.'

  Rosamund called to the men to bring the shutter closer.

  'Put it down here, beside the gentleman. Now we will need several of you to lift him – carefully now – my lord, you had best look after his injured leg.'

  It was the work of a few moments to put Sir James on to the shutter, but the pain of the movement rendered him unconscious.

  'And I am glad of it,' remarked Rosamund as she and the marquis led the way to Ullenwood House. 'I hope he will remain senseless until we have him safe in a bed.'

  'Tell me, Miss Beaumarsh, are you always so managing?'