Wishing For Rainbows (Historical Romance)

by Rebecca King

  WISHING FOR RAINBOWS

  By

  Rebecca King

  © Rebecca King 2015

  The moral right of Rebecca King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any informational storage and retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, either living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Further books will be published shortly.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE STAR ELITE ARE BACK……..

  OTHER BOOKS BY REBECCA KING

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ursula perched on the edge of the seat and stared at her father. He had one of those looks on his face; the ones that warned her that the news he was about to impart was not good. As if to confirm her suspicions he studied her over the top of his half-rimmed glasses and braced his elbows on the desk. He then stared at his hands for several long moments and allowed the somewhat disapproving silence to thicken.

  She tensed and waited. She wondered what she had done to upset him this time. He always behaved like this when he was about to be a pompous bore so she must have done something to bring that dark frown to his face. As far as she was aware everything had been fine, right up until this moment.

  As she waited she wondered what the time was and how long he was going to take. She longed to go for a walk while the weather was nice. Right now, she would much prefer to be outside than in his rather stuffy library waiting to be scolded. Unfortunately, she knew that when her father got a bee in his bonnet like this he could ramble on for hours, and the possibility of taking a walk was looking less and less likely.

  “Now then, Ursula, I have been a little concerned of late as to your comings and goings in this house,” her father warned. He peered over the top of his glasses at her as though he expected her to know what he was talking about.

  Ursula’s brows rose in surprise. “Comings and goings, Papa?”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah Proctor repeated. “Comings and goings.”

  “What comings and goings?” she asked. Her brows lowered. She didn’t understand.

  “What comings and goings?” He glared. “That’s my point. There are none. You have not left this house for any other purpose than going for a walk into the village for an entire month.”

  Oh-ho Ursula mentally winced. Wait for it; another lecture on attending the forthcoming balls is about to begin.

  Her father stared at her for a moment then pushed out of his chair and began to march up and down the room like a sentry guarding his post.

  “A young lady like you should be attending all the social engagements she is invited to.” He stomped over to the desk, picked up a thick wad of decorated cards and waved them at her. “Why haven’t you accepted these invitations? There are many of them, Ursula. Many. But I understand from Mrs Canterbury, that you have declined the invitation to her soiree next Friday. Why?”

  Ursula opened her mouth to speak but her father whirled on her and pierced her with a dark look that rendered her silent.

  “I found at least four invitations hidden behind the plant on the table in the hallway. If Edwina hadn’t polished the table in there, those invitations might never have been found.”

  Again, Ursula opened her mouth to speak but closed it again when her father threw her another dark glare. It was clear he hadn’t finished his rant yet and didn’t expect her to speak until he had.

  “Don’t tell me they got there all by themselves because you and I know better. Two of them are for engagements in the next few days. I am shocked at you, Ursula. Shocked, I say.”

  Ursula wished she could relax her spine and wait out the tirade whilst slumped against the cushions on the chaise, but manners dictated that she must remain as she was and appear to be listening with interest. With this in mind, she left her father to ramble on about how important good connections were and turned her attention the view outside the study window.

  The rolling green landscape stretched on for miles and looked simply beautiful in the autumn. She so longed to be out there now, enjoying the crisp, clean air and bracing winds. She sighed deeply as a wave of inevitability swept through her as she continued to study the view.

  Although she tried to avoid it, her gaze was drawn toward the huge Jacobean mansion that lay to the right of the window. Even from half a mile away, Hoghampton Hall was massive and screamed of wealth and status that was in a different world to the old rectory she resided in. Hoghampton was the largest country estate for miles around, and belonged to Lord Blomsbury, their nearest neighbour. It was a familiar sight to her. Not least because over the years, she had sat on many occasions in this exact spot in her father’s rather claustrophobic study whilst listening to his tirades. Normally, like today, her time was spent mostly dreaming about the lives of the people who lived in the grand hall in the distance. In particular, one rather intriguing resident who had ensnared her imagination, and her heart as a young girl and refused to relinquish them.

  When her thoughts began to stray toward him, she turned her attention back to her father. Unfortunately, as though drawn by an invisible hand, she resumed her study of the familiar solidarity of Hoghampton’s gleaming structure nestled amongst immaculate lawns and, of course, the moors. With a sigh, she purposely forced her attention to the rug beneath her feet however, remained conscious that the building sat in the periphery of her vision – teasingly waiting for her to look at it again.

  She knew that it was time to move on with her life and leave certain matters to the past; in particular, her youthful infatuation with the third son of Lord Blomsbury, Trenton Calderhill. However, actually doing so was harder than she had ever imagined it to be. The more she tried not to think about him, the more she found herself actually thinking about him. It didn’t help that her father had a penchant for calling her into his study to lecture her on her future, and insisted she sat in the one chair that overlooked the place she was trying to ignore.

  “Do you hear me, Ursula?”

  She jumped when her father’s voice boomed at her from across the room. She wanted to say ‘yes, Papa’, but had no idea what he had just said and so merely looked at him blankly. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to expect a reply because he turned to stare out of the window. The silence that fell between them gave her a few moments to try to remember what he had said. When she failed to recall a single word, she knew she would get another lecture on paying attention to one’s elders and minding her manners; or something like it.

  “You haven’t heard I word I have said, have you?” Jeremiah accused quietly, taking her silence for guilt.

  She sheepishly studied her hands while she waited for further chastisement. Jeremiah returned to his desk, and slumped almost wearily in his chair. Their eyes met and held for a moment. It unnerved her when he steepled his fingers and studied her o
ver the top of them like that. It felt as though he was seeing things she would rather keep to herself. It made her want to poke at her hair to make sure all of the ringlets were still in place. As it was, she remained quiet and waited for him to tell her what she had missed.

  “I told you that it is time you found yourself a husband, Ursula. You are four and twenty now. It’s far beyond the age when you should be married.”

  Before she could argue that she didn’t want to be married, he continued.

  “I will not send you for yet another coming out. You have had so many of those blasted things even I don’t know whether I am coming or going. It’s ridiculous. The last time you had Lord Attermire offer for your hand but, oh no, he wasn’t good enough for you. You said he was too foppish, whatever that means. Then there was Lord Smethurst. He was too old.”

  “He was fifty,” Ursula burst out.

  Jeremiah wasn’t about to be thwarted. “Then there was Stephen Heggerton.”

  Ursula rolled her eyes.

  “He was too dull. Hugo Montgomery – too cross eyed. Bertram Templeton – too stuffy. Harrold Walters – too shy.” He continued to tap his fingers as he rattled off the names and criticisms of her suitors over the past few years. If she was honest, she knew she was being rather too picky but had found all of them to be as dull as dishwater; as dull as her life in fact. The prospect of being married to any of them made her want to do something drastically offensive to put them off.

  Unsure how she should argue with her father’s tirade, Ursula remained quiet. She knew he was going to inform her of the benefits of being a married lady again. What he didn’t realise yet was that she wasn’t going to budge on the issue, no matter how much he scolded her. The last thing she wanted was to get married, and that was the end of the matter as far as she was concerned. All she had to do was wait for her father to get his grievance off his chest. Then, hopefully, if they were still speaking to each other they could put the matter to one side, move on and forget about it – for the time being at least.

  “Well, I am afraid that the time has now come for me to do something about the matter myself seeing as you don’t seem so inclined.”

  Ursula went cold. “Do something about it yourself?” she repeated. Another frown marred her perfect brow. “Do you intend to marry one of them then?”

  “Don’t be so impertinent,” Jeremiah snapped. “If you don’t go out, you won’t find a husband, and he won’t find you. I have therefore decided that you should go and live with your aunt in London for a month. In that time, I suggest you choose someone yourself, or I shall select a husband for you upon your return.”

  She stared at him. The wild urge to laugh almost escaped her until she realised he was being serious. Her alarm grew at the determined look in his eye. Not least because this time there was something different in that steady regard; something colder and more calculating that she had never seen before. It worried her, because it left her feeling a little unsteady; like something had changed permanently, and she would never be able to change it back again.

  “Have I displeased you somehow, papa?” Ursula asked cautiously.

  “Other than refuse to find a husband at four and twenty years old, you mean?” Jeremiah snapped.

  “When do I leave?” she sighed expecting her father to tell her that the arrangements had yet to be made. If she had two weeks at home still she could wait for her father to calm down and then talk him out of his determination to get rid of her. To her consternation, he picked up a piece of parchment from his desk and looked at it. The heavy scent of roses that wafted through the air told her who it was from before she even read the scrawling writing; Aunt Adelaide.

  “Tomorrow morning,” her father declared, ignoring her shocked gasp. “I will increase your stipend so that you might purchase everything you need. As I have said, I am giving you one month to find yourself a husband. I expect to receive an offer from an eligible suitor by then, or I shall accept the offer I have already received for you. One month, Ursula. That’s my final decision on the matter.”

  “You have already received an offer for me?” The urge to rant and rave at the unfairness of his draconian order was so strong that she trembled against the need to remain still.

  “Yes,” Jeremiah nodded. “It is from a perfectly eligible gentleman. You will do well with him, I don’t doubt.”

  She stared at her father in horror. The only thought that ran through her mind was that there was no time to wait for him to calm down. She had never seen him like this; so determined; so forthright; so immovable. Frozen, she stared at him in stunned disbelief, unable to absorb this change in her future. It felt as though the rug had been yanked out from beneath her and she was stumbling around trying to regain her balance. What was she to say? To do? What could she say or do? When she couldn’t get her whirling thoughts to settle enough to think clearly, she realised that she had to get out of there. Once she had cleared her head, she could decide how best to handle the situation given the little time she had left.

  Sucking in a deep breath she turned a dark glare on her father.

  “Is that all?” she asked in a voice that was stiff and formal, and so very unlike her usual tone that it made Jeremiah look at her closely.

  “Yes.” Her father stared at her a little hesitantly, as though he now wasn’t entirely sure he had made the right decision.

  Unsure what she should say, she rose and stumbled toward the door, determined not to let her panic show. Aware of the thickening silence behind her she straightened her shoulders and yanked the door open.

  “Ursula?”

  She paused in the doorway to hear what else he had to say. In that moment she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. His dictates felt like a smack across the face and it smarted. To urge her to go out and about and experience life was one thing. To force her into marriage, even if she had the choice of whom she married, was something she had never expected from her father. She hadn’t realised just how much her failure to accept the thought of matrimony had bothered him before. Now, the determined look on his face told her that it was already too late to discuss it with him. His mind had been made up, and there was little she could do to get him to change it.

  “Don’t you want to know who the suitor is?” His voice was reconciliatory, but had little impact on Ursula.

  “No.” For the first time in her entire life she glared at her sire in defiance. “I don’t care who he is because I won’t be marrying him.” She closed the door behind her before he could say anything else.

  By the time she reached her bedroom she wanted to scream. When she saw Edwina, the maid, already packing her belongings, she wanted to rant and rave at the unfairness of it all, but she didn’t. Blinking away the salty sting of tears, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the rising panic that settled heavily over her shoulders. Rather than help, she moved to the window and stared blankly across the valley. She had spent many hours in her bedroom staring at the huge mansion, daydreaming about that certain somebody who had, even without knowing, put her life on hold. She would rather have her teeth pulled out than admit to anyone that no man she had met at any of the social occasions she had attended had ever come close to attracting her like Trenton Calderhill did.

  He was the very epitome of everything she could ever want in a husband. As the third son of the local Lord, Trenton was gentry. He was now Viscount Atherbury, and had his own modest estate twenty miles away. Although he was now four and thirty, to Ursula, he would always be the handsome young man whose affable good humour was charm personified. Even though she had only spent short periods of time in his company, she knew, she just knew that if he got to know her he too would feel the attraction between them she found impossible to ignore.

  “You are wishing for rainbows, Ursula. It’s time to get over him,” she whispered quietly as she turned away from the window.

  “What’s that?” Edwina asked absently as she hurried to the dresser for another armful o
f clothing.

  Ursula sighed and threw one last look at Hoghampton. She knew her pipe dreams had been nothing but girlish fantasies. The stark reality was that someone as debonair, wealthy, and handsome as Trenton, wouldn’t look twice at a mousy country miss like Ursula. Besides, she had heard he was engaged to a beautiful young woman called Barbarella somebody or other in London. According to the locals, the wedding was scheduled to take place at Christmas at Hoghampton.

  “Maybe Adelaide’s is a good idea after all,” she mused thoughtfully as she studied the half-packed trunks. Christmas was only a few weeks away. With Adelaide’s support, she could hopefully remain in London until the New Year, and wouldn’t be around to have to watch Trenton marry someone else right on her own doorstep.

  “Do you want to go?” Edwina asked cautiously.

  Ursula looked at her and thought about that for a moment. Maybe it was a good idea to get away from the area for a while. If she didn’t have to see Hoghampton then she didn’t have to think about Trenton, or his forthcoming marriage. She could get on with her life and decide what she wanted to do with it.

  One thing was for certain; her life would never include marriage.

  “Would you like me to pack these, Miss Ursula?” Edwina asked as she tucked a handful of undergarments into a trunk and held up two of Ursula’s newest shawls.

  “Yes. Let’s pack all of it,” Ursula replied making a spur of the moment decision. She ignored Edwina’s surprised start and hurried over to the bedside table to fetch her reading book and sewing. “I am not sure what I will need while I am there, so I will take it all. That way, I won’t have to buy as much while I am there.”

  She watched Edwina shrug and smiled to herself as she helped pack her belongings into the trunks.

  Two weeks later

  Ursula struggled not to squirm in her seat. Her back ached from sitting in the hard and uncomfortable chairs for the last two hours and now, to cap it all, she had a headache. It was expected, she supposed, given the hideous cacophony Mildred Simpson was plodding out on the piano. If it wasn’t for the fact that Lady Moldover was one of Aunt Adelaide’s best friends, Ursula would have made her excuses and left by now.