“Be kind to your sister,” their father interjected.
Eliza rolled her eyes, but continued on. “It is insulting because they think themselves my equal, when most of them don’t have a penny to their name.”
“What about Lord Gavin? I thought that he was rather wealthy.”
This exasperated Eliza even more so. “You really have no idea, do you?”
Marianne didn’t answer. She looked down at her food and started pushing it around with her fork.
“You had something you wanted to ask, my dear?” Her father said. He was looking across the table at her, with a soft and encouraging look on his face.
Had she forgotten so easily?
Marianne swallowed and put her fork down. “Yes,” she said quickly, surprised by her ability to speak. “Yes, well you see I was wondering if you might allow me to visit Bath for a few days.”
She heard a clatter. Her mother had dropped her knife and fork and was staring at her, hard, across the table. “Now, of all times? You can’t be serious, Marianne. We are in the heat of the London season. An integral time for your sister.”
“Yes, but-”
Her mother cut her off. “And by yourself? Do you truly have no idea of the dangers out there?”
“Well I-”
“Besides, what could you possibly want to do in Bath? An atrocious request. I won’t hear any more of it.”
With that, she picked up her cutlery and resumed eating. Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne could see Eliza smiling. And for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. But it gave her an idea.
She turned to face Eliza. “But Eliza thinks it’s a grand idea, don’t you Eliza?”
Eliza had a mouthful so she couldn’t speak at first, but her countenance made it quite clear that she thought it was an awful idea that didn’t benefit her in the slightest.
Marianne put her hand on hers against the table and squeezed. “Because of course if I’m not around, you can focus your attentions fully on Eliza and the London season. I won’t be around to get in the way.”
Marianne saw a light flicker on in Eliza’s mind. She swallowed her mouthful and looked at their mother, nodding quickly. “Oh yes, a splendid idea!”
Marianne watched their mother blink in surprise. Her mouth hung open for a moment like a dead fish.
“Well if both the girls are keen on the idea, my love, why shouldn’t we let her go?” Their father said between slow chews. He looked between Marianne and Eliza. When he looked at Marianne again, he flashed her a subtle wink.
It made her smile. Her father always did his best to back her endeavors. In a household with her mother and sister, it was difficult to hold onto any shred of agency or liberty. So they stuck together.
“Splendid then,” her father resolved, before her mother could quite gather her words. “Don’t you think, my dear?”
Her mother looked at him, before nodding at last. “Well, I suppose it would be useful to have a house free of distraction.”
Marianne tried not to let that sting. She had gotten her wish and the happiness of that outweighed all else.
She beamed throughout dinner. And thought of Bath.
* * *
Their departure for Bath could not come soon enough. They decided that Marianne’s father would escort her and Becky to the country cottage.
He would stay the night and leave them to their own devices the following morning. There was something exciting about that notion.
Marianne had never been left to her own devices. Not ever. It was always Eliza making the decisions, or their mother. As the youngest, her wishes meant very little.
Except for her father.
Her father, Lord Norman Purcell, Baron of Westlake was an extremely gentle man. He was easy-going and needed very little to nurture his happiness, besides the happiness of the three women in his life.
But that was tricky to navigate. His wife and eldest daughter could be demanding at the best of times.
So being the easy woman in the household was Marianne’s duty. She wouldn’t be another problem for her father to manage. And for that reason, she knew that he had an especially soft spot for her.
He would often smile at her like she’d just thrown him a lifeline. Usually when she took a hit to please her mother and sister.
They were in this together, her father and her. And she liked it that way. Marianne was much too joyful a character to feel downtrodden for long.
When they bid their family goodbye, her father kissed her mother and Eliza on their cheeks and told them that he would be back in the morning.
Her mother wasn’t happy. Marianne could see it in her stiff posture. She looked like a slab of slate stood upright. “Goodbye mother,” she said, with a hopeful intonation.
“Goodbye,” she answered.
Marianne hesitated, but turned towards the door. She stopped there and looked back at her mother. “Are you quite sure you are alright with me leaving, mother?”
“Quite sure,” she answered, quickly, but in an equally tight voice. “It will be a great deal easier to manage the season without you here. I only hope that you will use your sense.”
“What little you have,” Eliza muttered into her hand, but Marianne heard it.
Their mother pretended she didn’t.
“What trouble could I find?” Marianne said, with a smile. But her mother didn’t smile back. She only shook her head, as though she was disappointed.
“Plenty,” she said, in a bleak voice.
Marianne lost her smile.
“Come, my dear,” her father said and touched her elbow. As he led her through the door, with Marianne still looking back over her shoulder, he murmured into her ear, “Don’t let them frighten you, my darling. You will have a grand adventure.”
“I think that is what concerns them,” Marianne mumbled as she turned her face away. But as she looked towards the carriage, some of her enthusiasm was revived. “They do not want me to have an adventure. Adventures involve risk.”
“Do you want to have an adventure?” Her father asked, as they stepped up into the carriage. Becky was waiting for them beside it and stepped in after them, taking her seat.
She smiled to herself as she settled, looking out the window at the trees and the thousands of shades of green on the grounds. “I think I do. Gentlemen have adventures all the time, don’t they?”
She saw that her father was smiling. “They do indeed.”
“And are they not happy?”
He thought for a moment. “Some are.”
Marianne would have pressed the subject further had the carriage not rolled into motion. Her heart gave a wild thump of excitement.
She leapt in her seat and leaned against the door with her arms crossed over the edge of the window. She rested her chin on them and watched the world roll by.
If Eliza had the London season and gentleman hunting to keep her entertained, then Marianne had her daydreams. Sometimes she would smile dazedly, looking a bit drunk, forgetting that her father and Becky were sat opposite her. No doubt watching her face closely.
How she loved long carriage rides. It gave her time to think. To indulge in all her hopes and dreams. That was something Eliza and Marianne shared in common, but it seemed to manifest differently in Eliza.
While Marianne enjoyed the experience of hoping and wanting, Eliza seemed to hate it. It embittered her. For Eliza, gratification was the only reprieve.
And once the want was gratified, she moved onto the next thing. It kept her in an endless state of bitter wanting.
Marianne enjoyed the experience of wanting. It made her life a living dream. As though she were asleep, but choosing what she wanted to see.
Sometimes she thought that her imagination was so powerful that she could live entirely in the world her mind created. Any world she wanted.
In her mind’s eye, as the trees and roads rolled by, she saw a gentleman.
He was tall with a strong build.
&n
bsp; And he was looking at her.
She imagined that they’d met at a ball. He’d asked her to dance.
Oh, how she wanted to be kissed by him.
“Marianne,” he would say. His voice was like syrup. “Marianne. Are you asleep?”
Her brows furrowed a little. It was a queer thing for him to say. Perhaps she was falling asleep and she was losing her conscious grip on the dream. “Wake up,” the gentleman said.
At that, she opened her eyes. Her father was standing in front of her, touching her shoulder. “Wake up,” he said again. Marianne blinked her eyes quickly.
The carriage had stopped moving.
“You seemed to be having a good dream,” he remarked.
Marianne blushed. “It was okay,” she remarked, her voice croaky from sleep and from the influence of the gentleman in her dream.
“Why have we stopped?”
“We’re here,” he answered.
That snapped the sleepiness from her. She bolted upright, her spine like a whip, and launched herself at the carriage door.
She pushed it open and stepped outside. The sun was so bright it made her squint. For a moment, she couldn’t see through the sunlight.
But then the cottage came into focus.
“Oh father, it’s perfect! Becky, isn’t it perfect?”
Becky stepped out of the carriage and stood beside Marianne. “Quite perfect, my Lady.”
“Shall we go inside?” Her father said. He was smiling. He enjoyed nothing more than pleasing his youngest daughter.
A fact that Marianne did her utmost not to take advantage of. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d asked her father for anything.
But she’d wanted this more than anything. Being in that house with Eliza and her mother for another London season had been torture. The more seasons that passed, the more insufferable they became.
As they stepped into the cottage, she gazed up at the dark beams and the stone brick. She looked at her father, who was standing beside her, still smiling.
He would have to go back to them. To that insufferable household.
“Perhaps you could stay here?” She suggested. “Until the end of the London season?”
His smile turned softer, but he shook his head. “I do not think your mother would cope well with that.”
“But, father you seem under such strain.” She didn’t say what she wished she could. That mother and Eliza sometimes treated him like a bottomless bank.
They could be impatient with him too. Marianne had seen him treated poorly more often than she’d seen him treated with love.
But she knew that her sister and mother must love him. And her too. They only didn’t know how to show it.
He touched her hand and squeezed it. “You mustn’t worry for me, my dear. Just enjoy your time here. What do you think of the cottage?”
She squeezed his hand back and took the bait. “I am delighted by it.”
Marianne spent the rest of the evening exploring every nook and cranny of the cottage. It was bigger than she’d expected and the grounds around it were stunning. So many wild flowers that she couldn’t have counted them even if she’d tried.
When she went to bed that night, she felt this queer, wonderful feeling in the lower part of her belly.
This would be an adventure, she thought to herself. The grandest adventure.
Chapter 3
Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale
It wasn’t as he’d expected. Julius had led him to believe that they’d be staying in a tiny family cottage out in the most barren part of Bath. That wasn’t the case at all.
Upon arriving, Alexander quickly realized that he’d been deceived. The cottage was so grand that it verged on an estate. Certainly not a place designed for a cozy getaway.
This was a location built for entertaining. There was even stables and the grounds were so extensive that Alexander thought it would take him a week just to walk it all.
“You have deceived me,” he remarked as they dismounted.
“Deceived is a strong word,” Julius answered. He was beaming.
“This is not a country getaway.”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“Do you mean to entertain here?”
Julius shrugged and walked ahead of Alexander towards the house. “Who knows?”
Alexander trotted a few paces so that he could catch up with Julius and walk alongside him. “I told you that I will not be sowing any wild oats.”
“You may do what you want, my friend. And I will do what I want. Now,” he clapped him on the back, hard. “Shall we go inside?”
Alexander grimaced, but followed his friend inside.
He knew Julius very well indeed. They’d been best friends during their time studying at Oxford. And they would be best friends for the rest of their lives, as far as Alexander was concerned.
But he could certainly be a handful. A party animal who didn’t know when to quit.
Alexander, on the other hand, was more of a recluse. He didn’t like being around people, as a general rule. He much preferred to hide away with a book.
A party or a ball was his living nightmare. In other words, where Julius thrived, Alexander withered.
And when it came to women, that was another of their major differences. While Julius was an open and flagrant womanizer, Alexander had little to no interest in women.
He had no idea what to say to them. And when he did find something to talk about, he felt bored and quickly realized that he had nothing in common with them.
Besides, he didn’t have any time for women, because he had too much on his mind.
Like his father, Who he’d been trying to impress his entire life, he tended to focus on duty above all else. For the first time in his life, he was going to succeed and surpass his father’s expectations. He’d just graduated from Oxford, top of his class, which was an incredible achievement.
And he was coming home, at last, to take up his position as the Marquess of Riversdale. He’d marry a woman of his father’s choice. He’d execute every responsibility perfectly. He’d be dutiful. He’d produce an heir.
He’d be everything his father wanted him to be.
Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t care much for pursuing women. No woman could ever bring him the joy or gratification that pleasing his father would.
That night, Alexander and Julius had a few drinks before retiring. Julius had wanted to stay up later, but Alexander had insisted that if they were going to make the most of the day, they’d need to rise early.
Julius had rolled his eyes, but conceded.
As Alexander lay in bed, he thought about the fair. He looked forward to seeing the hustle and bustle of happy faces. Faces of men and women and children who didn’t have responsibilities like his own. They could live their lives as they pleased.
He almost envied them.
When he fell asleep, he was smiling a little, promising himself that he would make the most of his time here. A time of repose, before commencing a lifetime of duty
* * *
Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of Baron Westlake
Her father left early in the morning. She bid him farewell at the door and wished again that he would stay.
But as she watched the carriage roll away, she realized that she needed this. Perhaps her father knew that too.
She turned to face the cottage.
Through the open door, she could see the old stairs. The paintings mounted in the hallway. The chinaware on the sideboard table.
It was the perfect picture. A picture she imagined Eliza and her mother occupying. But they weren’t there.
They weren’t there.
Marianne didn’t go inside.
She kicked off her shoes, lifted her skirts and ran. She bounded to the grass and felt the blades of the grass between her toes. She was smiling, brighter than she had since she was a child, wriggling her toes wildly.
“My Lady?�
� She heard Becky call from the cottage, but she didn’t answer. With a squeal of delight, she fell back onto the grass and spread her arms out around her.
She felt for daisies and plucked one. She brought it to her face and smelt the petals. The pollen made her nose tickle. Eliza would have hated it.
Her mother would have hated this too. She would have been going red in the face, about ready to screech at Marianne for such unladylike behavior.
Regency Diaries of Seduction Collection: A Regency Historical Romance Box Set Page 28