The newly married couple themselves had no doubt of their being the luckiest creatures in England, and their felicity was plain to see.
The Earl looked tall and handsome in a new coat of his favourite blue superfine, paired with elegant knee breeches and a snowy-white neckcloth tied in a complicated Waterfall. His bride wore an elegant dress of blue and silver, with lace sleeves and fine silver embroidered rosebuds.
The wedding was a traditional, quiet affair, with only close family present. Afterwards, a few select guests had been invited to the wedding breakfast at Chadcombe, there to exclaim at the happiness of the newlyweds and to speculate about the other family members.
Mr and Mrs Hubert Etherington attracted much attention. They had been married recently in London, it was said, though rumours persisted that they had been seen in an inn in Stamford together before they were wed.
The new Mrs Etherington was wearing an unusual gown in purple silk, with a matching turban and three ostrich feathers. Her fashion-conscious husband had declared it all the crack, though in truth the colour did nothing for her complexion, and the style was not really appropriate for a young married lady.
Mr Hubert Etherington, meanwhile, was attired in a vibrant red velvet coat, worn with a pink waistcoat and wine-coloured small-clothes—a combination which drew much attention, not all of it favourable. He and his wife spent the day bickering and being critical of one another, then coming together to criticise others.
Mr Buxted, sitting with Sir Edward in a quiet part of the room, averted his eyes from his flamboyant son-in-law. Instead, he sought out Mr and Mrs Foxley, who were sitting quietly together near the middle window. They were dressed soberly but stylishly—Mr Foxley in a close-fitting Weston coat and his wife in a pretty pink gown. They had recently taken up residence in Monkton Park, and were expected to be frequent visitors at Chadcombe. As Mr Buxted watched the bride moved to sit with them, and she and Mrs Foxley embraced warmly. The Earl soon joined them—he and Charlotte were never apart for long.
Mr Buxted and Sir Edward, while sipping an excellent red wine provided by Merrion, reflected on the nuptials with satisfaction.
‘I approve of my new son-in-law more and more, Freddy,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Yes, and yours too. Young Foxley is a sensible fellow.’
Neither mentioned Mr Etherington, currently battling a confused but persistent wasp who thought he was a hollyhock.
‘You know, despite the title, I think my Faith has got the better deal.’
‘And why is that?’
Mr Buxted delivered the clincher. ‘Well, you see, my son-in-law—unlike yours—likes fishing.’
Adam whispered in Charlotte’s ear and a moment later they slipped away to the rose garden, to enjoy a quiet moment together. They wandered among the late-blooming flowers, hand in hand, until the sounds of the party faded behind them.
‘Oh, Adam, I cannot tell you how happy I am! When I think of how low I felt, with Papa gone and no hope of being with you, it seems like another world.’
‘I will never forget how your aunt belittled you and insulted you,’ he replied, looking grim. ‘I sent Priddy to find you that day.’
‘That was you? Thank you. That was, I think, my lowest point—crying in that attic room.’
‘Yes, why did you go to the attic that day? Was it to find Priddy’s room?’
‘No, mine. My aunt had moved me to a servant’s room.’ She shuddered at the memory.
He looked thunderous. ‘What? How dare she?’ He stopped and drew her into his arms. ‘That woman!’ he said, with loathing.
‘Hush!’ She stood on tiptoes and planted a feather-light kiss on his lips.
‘Charlotte!’ He returned the kiss with fervour.
After a few moments they stopped to look at each other and catch their breath.
‘I had planned to speak to your father on his return, to ask permission to pay my addresses to you. While he was lost I felt...lost. To see you entrapped by your aunt when I was unable to help you—and then you turned down my proposal...’
‘Please don’t remind me! I was so cruel to you that day! I had no idea you wanted to marry me.’
He smiled. ‘We nearly made a complete mull of it, between us, didn’t we?’
They walked on a little further, arms now entwined around each other’s waists.
‘Let’s remember happier times,’ he murmured. ‘I recall the night I kissed you here, during the ball. I had already decided I would marry you even then.’
‘I had no clue about your intentions, Adam. We had just danced the waltz together, and it was such a wonderful moment. I saw everything slipping away, and I believed we would never dance together again. I was so unhappy afterwards.’
‘As was I—you ran away from me that night.’
‘I thought only to spare you from being trapped into marriage!’
‘It is no trap, my love,’ he said, taking her hand and putting his arm around her in a waltz hold. ‘I am happy to be your husband. In fact I suspect I am the luckiest man in the world, for I have you.’
They began to move together, to music unheard.
‘And I am happy to be your wife.’
‘I love you, Charlotte.’
‘And I love you, Adam.’
He bent his head towards hers. ‘And we will waltz together whenever we choose.’
‘Yes, we will,’ she whispered as their lips met.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS MAIL-ORDER BRIDE by Tatiana March.
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His Mail-Order Bride
by Tatiana March
Chapter One
Boston, Massachusetts, May 1889
Charlotte Fairfax stood on the balcony at Merlin’s Leap, her hands clasped around the stone balustrade. Down in the restless ocean, waves crashed against the cliffs with an endless roar. Spray flew up in white columns. A chilly mist hung in the air. In the distance, the lighthouse at Merlin’s Point, not yet lit up for the night, silhouetted against the dark bank of clouds.
Morbid thoughts filled Charlotte’s mind. A hundred years ago her ancestor, Merlin Fairfax, had leaped to his death from this very spot. Had he been pushed, as his widow claimed? Had his younger brother murdered him? Rumors persisted even today, suggesting that he had.
Did cruel nature p
ass down through generations?
Was one branch of the Fairfax family tainted with evil?
How far might Cousin Gareth go to get his hands on her inheritance?
A tap on her shoulder made Charlotte jolt and cry out in alarm. She whirled around, fear throbbing through every muscle. Her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw her sister Miranda.
“You scared me.” Her words came on a nervous sigh. “I didn’t hear you open the door.”
“Come inside,” Miranda said. “We need to talk.”
Charlotte followed her sister into the upstairs parlor that overlooked the ocean. Through the wide bay window, she could see a flock of seagulls dipping and wheeling over the foaming whitecaps, could hear the muffled sounds of their screeching.
Built of gray stone, solid as a fortress, Merlin’s Leap stood on a rocky headland just north of Boston. All three Fairfax sisters had been born in the house, had enjoyed a happy childhood there, and had been looking forward to entering adulthood. And then, everything had changed four years ago, when their parents drowned in a boating accident.
The middle sister, Miranda, was the tallest, and the only one who took after their father. Blonde, blue-eyed, she looked elegant and feminine, but she could outrun, outride and outshoot most of the men on the estate.
At twenty-four, Charlotte was the eldest. Small and slender, with curly dark hair and hazel eyes, she was dreamier than her sisters, and less practical. When circumstances called for it, though, the stubborn streak that usually remained hidden behind her gentle facade came out, turning her into a fighter.
Annabel, the youngest, was only eighteen. She shared the same petite frame and dark coloring as Charlotte, but her hair was straight instead of curly. They were alike in personality, too, quieter, not nearly as bold or feisty as Miranda.
In the parlor, the big stone fireplace had been lit in deference to the cool spring day. Annabel stood by the hearth, a wool shawl wrapped around her threadbare gown. The rigid set of Annabel’s shoulders and her fraught expression filled Charlotte with alarm.
We need to talk, Miranda had said.
Not sisterly gossip.
But the kind of talk that altered lives.
Her pulse accelerating, Charlotte hurried across the room to her youngest sister. She halted beside Annabel in front of the fire and held her hands out to the flames, fortifying herself.
Miranda tiptoed to the entrance and peeked into the corridor to make sure the housemaids were not spying on them. Then, taking care not to make a sound, she closed the door and returned to her sisters.
Turning to Charlotte, Miranda spoke bluntly. “You have to leave today.”
The fear inside Charlotte knotted tighter. “What did you find out?”
“Cousin Gareth has given the servants the day off on Saturday. He has given them money to spend, and offered them the use of the carriage to go into Boston.”
“He is getting everyone out of the way,” Annabel said. “He’ll ravish you, and then you’ll have to marry him, and he’ll get his dirty paws on Papa’s money.”
Charlotte flinched. Annabel was too young for such talk, but she had been the one to walk in on them and rescue her a week ago, the first time Cousin Gareth had tried to force his attentions on her. Gareth had been pursuing her since Mama and Papa died, but only recently had he made it clear that he would use any means to achieve his aim.
“At least the two of you are safe from him,” Charlotte reminded her sisters. “I don’t agree with the old English custom of leaving everything to the firstborn, but Papa did, and that means I’m the only one in danger.”
Miranda’s elegant features puckered into a frown. “Papa was a fool not to trust young women to manage their own fortune. You don’t get the money until you’re twenty-five, but if you marry your husband will get everything at once. Gareth has been gambling. He is in debt and desperately needs funds.”
“And he knows that on my next birthday we’ll be rid of him.” Anger rose in Charlotte. “I’ll throw him out of Merlin’s Leap. He’s been living on Papa’s money and keeping us prisoners here. One more year, and then we’ll be free of him.”
“He knows that,” Miranda said bleakly. “That’s why he is getting desperate. You’ll have to leave at once and find a safe place to hide from him. I stole a gold piece from his pocket this morning. Before the end of the day he’ll notice it’s gone.”
“How can I get away?” Charlotte spread her hands in a futile gesture. “Cousin Gareth has the footmen and the grooms watching every move we make. Even the cook and the housemaids are spying on us.”
Miranda leaned closer to her eldest sister and lowered her voice. “Annabel and I will distract the servants, so you can slip out. You must shelter in the forest and walk all the way to Boston. Once you get to the railroad station, you can blend in with the crowd and take a train to someplace where people don’t know you.”
“But I’ll only have ten dollars!”
“Twenty,” Miranda said. “The gold piece I stole was a double eagle.” She shifted her shoulders in an impatient gesture that brushed aside the obstacle of lack of funds. “You’ll have to find a safe place to hide, and come back to Merlin’s Leap next year, after your birthday, when you can claim your inheritance.”
“You can dress in boy’s clothing and—”
Miranda cut off Annabel’s excited chatter. “No, she can’t. She needs to look like a respectable lady. An educated person who can get a job as a governess or teacher, or a lady’s maid.”
“I can’t...” Charlotte inhaled a deep breath. “I wouldn’t know what to do...where to go...how to find a suitable position...”
“You have to,” Miranda said. “We can’t come with you, as we need to distract the servants so you can escape. If you stay here, Cousin Gareth will force you to marry him. You’ll be tied to him for the rest of your life.” Her tone hardened. “Of course, you can just let him bully you, and take Papa’s money, and anything else he might want.”
Like always, Miranda knew how to stir up courage in her sisters. Charlotte fisted her hands into the worn fabric of her ancient wool gown. One of Gareth’s petty tyrannies had been not to let them have any money, or buy anything new since their parents died. Up to now, they’d had enough to eat, but Charlotte suspected starvation might be his next weapon.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go and pack.”
I’ll go and pack. Just like that. The end of one life and a leap into the unknown—perhaps not as drastic as a leap from the balcony into the churning ocean below, but equally frightening to Charlotte.
“But what about you...” She swallowed the lump of fear that clogged her throat. “What if Cousin Gareth takes out his fury on you? He might suspect you know where I’ve gone to and try to beat the information out of you.”
“Beat the information out of me?” Miranda’s tone held scorn. “I’d like to see him try.” She raised a clenched fist. “I haven’t forgotten those boxing lessons I got from the Irish stable lad when I was small. If Gareth lays a finger on me, I’ll punch him right on the nose.”
“I don’t think he’ll bother us.” Annabel spoke slowly, mulling it over. “He is not a violent man, but a scheming one. He’ll see no benefit in harming us. He’ll leave us alone because he’ll be too busy trying to find you.”
“I think the same,” Miranda said firmly. “He’ll rant and rave and then he’ll take off to the nearest Pinkerton bureau and hire detectives to track you down. And that means you’ll have to be very careful not to leave a trail.”
Charlotte suppressed her misgivings. Most likely, Annabel and Miranda were right. Moreover, as the heiress she was responsible for Papa’s money. The best way to protect her sisters was to stop Cousin Gareth from getting his hands on their fortune, and that meant she had to leave, go into hiding, just as they had a
greed.
Miranda glanced at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room. “You must be ready to slip out exactly at one o’clock. The servants will be sitting down for their lunch. Annabel will create a commotion in the kitchen. I’ll set fire to the papers on Gareth’s desk in the library. I have a bottle of lamp oil put aside for the purpose. You have less than ten minutes to get out of the house and down the gravel drive and into the shelter of the forest.”
Miranda stopped talking. Her arms came around Charlotte in a fierce hug. For a few seconds, they held on to each other. Charlotte inhaled the familiar scent of the lavender soap they all used and drew courage from the feel of her sister’s warmth.
Then Miranda released her grip and stepped back.
“Go,” she said. “We have no time to waste.”
Annabel took her turn to hug Charlotte, clinging tight with trembling arms. The excitement she’d shown only moments ago had dissolved into weeping. The most sensitive of them, Annabel sometimes appeared high-strung, but it might have merely been her youth.
“I’ll write to let you know where I am,” Charlotte said. She saw Miranda scowl and hurried to reassure her. “I know Cousin Gareth will intercept the mail. I’ll find a way to write and let you know I’m safe.”
Miranda gave a quick nod, blinking back tears. Charlotte was surprised to remain dry-eyed, but she suspected her calm was far from natural. The terror of what she was about to do had rendered her too numb to feel anything else.
“Emily Bickerstaff,” Annabel said through her sobs. “When Mama and Papa insisted you try out that horrible boarding school, Emily Bickerstaff was the nearest you had to a friend. If you write to us under that name, we’ll know it’s you, and we can read between the lines.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Miranda said. “Take note of that, Charlotte. Write to us using the name Emily Bickerstaff, or mention her name in the letter.”
“I’ll remember.” Charlotte forced a shaky smile for the benefit of the weeping Annabel. Sometimes they forgot that when their youngest sister managed to control her volatile emotions, she was the cleverest of them all.
Waltzing with the Earl Page 26