Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “I was foiled in my attempt, My Lord. I was watching from afar as the poisoned glass was placed in the Duke’s hands, but he was not allowed to drink; a woman whose face I could not see dashed it from his lips!”

  “What woman?” the Earl demanded.

  “I know not, My Lord, but doubtless she must be one of the courtesans hired for amusement.”

  “No! That was Abigail, you fool!” The Earl hurled a glass at the foreman who dodged it with some difficulty.

  “Be gone! Make haste and search for her in the Duke’s home!” he demanded.

  “I dare not, My Lord. The Duke has forbidden me from coming near his property. I shall be attacked by his watchmen and dogs at sight!”

  “Thou coward!” the Earl exclaimed. “I am an invalid, and therefore cannot go myself!”

  Samuel gently sidestepped towards the door. “My Lord, allow me to make a plan, and we shall find out soon,” he said and left before the Earl could say a word.

  Meanwhile, the Duke of Northumberland had already made preparations to pursue Abigail. He did not know where she had gone, but he thought it would be wise to look in the coal mining village. All that day he wandered through the town and village asking for Abigail. No one had seen her, and he began to despair.

  He cast a look at Tobias Harding who seemed unusually quiet. “It is as if the Earth swallowed her whole. Where could she have gone, Tobias?”

  Receiving no answer, the Duke impatiently turned his horse around to head back home.

  “Tobias Harding, we must go to the Marquess’ place and search for Abigail.”

  “The Marquess is not at home, Your Grace,” Tobias finally noted. “The villagers told me she had left for Liverpool.”

  The Duke stared. “Why would she do that Tobias?”

  “I know not, Your Grace. Perhaps she has been misled, or perhaps she has relatives there.”

  The Duke thought for a while and then said, “It doesn’t matter, but we cannot lose a moment’s time. We have already wasted an entire day.”

  As the sun set that day, the Duke was on his way to Liverpool, and the Earl’s servant Samuel Cooper had determined from the miners in the village that the Duke had been searching for Abigail all that day.

  Chapter 3

  Abigail quietly stepped out of the room where she had been confined and made her way down the stairs to where she heard voices. She had eaten a little of the breakfast that the housekeeper had left for her and dressed as best as she could. She knew that she ought not to leave her room until she was invited to do so by the owners of the house. However, she could not wait any longer to confirm what the housekeeper had told her.

  When she reached the parlour doors, she peered through a crack between them and saw the richly dressed lady and gentleman she had met the previous night. The man she looked at eagerly for signs of resembling her father. Was this really the Marquess Ernest Claremont?

  However, her gaze fell on a portrait that hung above the fireplace in the room. It was the same portrait that she wore in a locket around her neck. It was the portrait of her mother, the Marchioness, who had given her up as an infant.

  At that moment, she felt someone give her a push and she fell through the parlour doors into the room. The couple in the room stopped talking and stared at her.

  “My Lord! Can you believe it? The beggar girl you took in last night has already risen and decided to spy on her benefactors!” the woman exclaimed.

  “Hush, my dear; do not be so hasty!” the gentleman replied. Then smiling at Abigail, he held out a hand and helping her to her feet assisted her to a chair.

  “I trust that you slept well last night?” he asked kindly,

  “Yes, thank you kindly, Sir,” she replied.

  “I am sorry that you had to come downstairs alone. I thought you were asleep else the housekeeper would have assisted you.”

  Abigail thanked him again and sat awkwardly silent.

  The gentleman asked once again, “Who are you and what were you doing on my doorstep?”

  Abigail sat silent for a while and then removing the locket from her neck held it out to the man.

  “I believe the answers to your questions are in that locket,” she answered.

  The gentleman looked at the portrait in the locket and then closing it asked again, “This does not tell me anything. It is the portrait of my mother, the Marchioness, but how did you come by it?”

  “It was given to me by an elderly lady who knew the Marchioness and who swore that I am the true daughter of the Marquess Archibald Claremont.”

  The man laughed incredulously. “Do you know who I am?” he asked,

  “I had heard from the housekeeper that you are the Marquess Ernest Claremont …”

  “Son of the Marquess Archibald Claremont and his heir. Yes, so if what you declare is true that would make you my sister. However, I have not once in my life heard that I had any sibling.” The Marquess smiled at her condescendingly.

  “I beg your pardon, Sir; I am only discovering the truth myself. I was not entirely credulous of this information regarding my birth myself. However, the resemblance I have observed between my features and those of the Marchioness compelled me to …”

  “What resemblance? Do you see any resemblance, my dear?” The Marquess turned towards his wife.

  “Not in the least,” she replied in a bored tone.

  “Yet I am sure you saw that resemblance on the night you discovered me on your doorstep and so kindly took me in,” said Abigail quietly.

  The Marquess was speechless for an instant and then recovering himself spoke again, “How can you be so sure of such a thing?” he asked mockingly. “Are you a reader of minds in addition to being the long lost daughter of a Marquess?”

  “No indeed, still I know I saw recognition in your eyes …”

  “Enough! You grow too bold and forget whose presence you are in! I am the Marquess now, and I will not have beggar girls appearing and claiming to be my relative.”

  “Then allow me to take my leave, Sir, and I shall search for the truth of my identity elsewhere,” said Abigail.

  “No! Do not be so hasty. I am a generous man, and I cannot allow you to leave in this condition. You are weak and tired from travelling, and though you may be an imposter, still I admitted you into my house in an act of charity that I wish to honour.”

  Abigail started to protest, but the Marquess stopped her. He picked up a little bell and rang it. The housekeeper appeared again.

  “Kindly take our guest back to her room and provide her all that she needs to make a change of dress.”

  The housekeeper firmly gripped Abigail’s arm and took her from the room. “How durst thou leave thy room and go gallivanting about the house?” she hissed in Abigail’s ear.

  “I wanted to ask you something and knew not where to find you.”

  “What didst thou imagine I had nought to do but sit there chattering with thee?” asked the woman, frowning terribly. “Stay there and wait till I come again! I shall lock the door so thou dost not try to go wandering about again.”

  Abigail was pushed into her room, and she heard the housekeeper lock the door and leave. Half an hour later, she opened the door and tossed a bundle of clothes onto the bed before leaving and locking the door again. Abigail found a plain brown linen dress and white bonnet which she changed her clothes for gladly because her own dress was torn and needed to be mended.

  She sat down and thought about her situation. It was clear to her that the Marquess was lying. He knew that what she said regarding her identity was true, and it seemed that he did not like this truth. She wondered what he intended to achieve by delaying her from leaving. There were so many questions in her mind. Was the Marquess aware of his own birth as the son of Jeremiah? Had he never wondered who his father was and what he did? Was he behaving so strangely because he was caught unawares and surprised by Abigail’s appearance? Would he gradually become more receptive to the truth when he talked to Abigail and
heard all she had to tell him about herself?

  It was true that she had often thought about the young Marquess as her brother. They were not related by blood, but as the son of Jeremiah, he was surely her brother. There must be something of the old coal miner in him. Jeremiah, her kind, loving, and honest father … how was it possible that his son should be a liar or a fraud? The more she thought, the more upset she felt. She had ventured so far leaving the one person left in this world, who loved her, with the hope that she would at least find a brother. Now she felt that she had been foolish to think that the Marquess would have any empathy for her. She felt that she must at least try to talk to him one more time. Perhaps if she waited long enough, he would come to her room himself.

  That evening as it grew darker, the door opened, and the housekeeper came in with a lamp and a tray of food.

  “I wish to speak with the Marquess. Would you please give him my message?” pleaded Abigail.

  “Aye, eat thy dinner and dinna worry thy fair little head anymore. The Marquess will see thee tomorrow,” said the housekeeper.

  Abigail stared at her astonished. She had not expected her to speak so kindly. However, before she could ask any more questions, the housekeeper left, locking the door again. Abigail tossed and turned all night, wondering what would happen the next day.

  Chapter 4

  Samuel Cooper lurked outside the Marquess’ house in London. He had decided to go there to look for Abigail knowing full well that Abigail would want to meet the Marquess. However, try as he might, he could not get any answers from the house’s servants regarding the inmates.

  First, an errand boy had come out, sent by the cook to bring some fish from the market. Then the housemaid had appeared with a dustpan to empty. He tried to engage them in conversation, but they just looked at him suspiciously and walked off. He was at his wits’ end when a chimney sweep appeared whistling as he walked up to the gate and spoke with the butler about resuming the work he had left that morning. Samuel saw his opportunity, and when the man was asked to wait a moment before entering, he stopped him and said, “I might have a job for thee friend, what do you say?”

  “Where didst thou spring from?” the chimney sweep asked, eyeing him askance.

  “Never mind that. I know a big house not far from here with at least ten chimneys that need to be swept, and thou art just the man for the job! Tell me, hast thee worked in this house before?”

  “What has that to do with the matter?”

  “Well, I wish to know what experience you have. The house I have has just as many chimneys as this one.”

  “I have worked in this house and many that are larger,” replied the chimney sweep proudly.

  “They wouldn’t let thee in the ladies’ rooms wouldst they? They have special men for that who would know how to delicately clean the chimney without filling the room with dust?”

  The chimney sweep laughed out loud. “What art thou blathering about? Dost thou think ladies have different chimney sweeps? Any man worth his salt knows how to clean a chimney without making a mess of any room.”

  “I don’t believe it. Thou hast never been inside the room of the Marchioness?”

  “I have I tell you! I have been inside the room of every woman in that house.”

  “There is only one woman there, what art thou talking about?”

  “No, there are two now. There is a guest that hadst come from some country village!”

  “Aaah, I did not know that. She must have arrived recently.”

  “I have no knowledge of the matter, and anyway, now I must get to work. I have not time to dilly dally with thee here any longer!” The chimney sweep walked off.

  Samuel was thrilled because at last it seemed that his hunch about the whereabouts of Abigail was true. He hurried away to tell the Earl about his discovery.

  Meanwhile, Abigail had risen and dressed, waiting anxiously to be summoned into the Marquess’ presence.

  Shortly after breakfast had been cleared away, the housekeeper appeared and graciously invited Abigail to step out of the room. She led her into the parlour and left her there.

  Abigail was confused to see that the Marquess was not alone. There were two other men and a stout woman, but the Marchioness was nowhere to be seen.

  Ernest Claremont walked up to her smiling. “Do not be alarmed my dear; these are only friends of mine. This is Dr Harry Grover and his apprentice, and that is Nurse Betty who works with them.”

  Abigail curtseyed and tried not to appear flustered under the strangers’ scrutiny.

  “Now, my dear, would you like to repeat what you told me yesterday regarding your parentage? Don’t worry, these are my trusted friends, and I only wish to seek their advice. You can speak freely,” he said.

  “Will you be willing to listen again to what obviously caused you much distress yesterday and that you were not willing to consider as true or possible?”

  “You took me by surprise, my dear, that’s all. I am eager to hear your entire history.”

  “Then I must begin by saying that I was raised as a coal miner’s daughter, and it was only much later, after his death that I discovered he had adopted me. I was born to the Marquess Archibald Claremont and his wife.”

  “So you are in truth my sister?”

  “Yes and no because your birth was also not in the home of the Marquess.”

  Ernest turned and gave the seated observers a significant look. “So I am not really the son of the Marquess Archibald Claremont?”

  “I am not aware whether this is something to be discussed in these surroundings …”

  “Do continue, I wish to hear the truth.”

  “Then, yes, you are actually the miner’s son …”

  Ernest turned and looked again at the two men. “Tell me, Doctor, what exactly is your impression?”

  “Without a doubt! You were right, My Lord, and we shall directly take measures to remove the patient from your premises.” Dr Harry Grover nodded significantly at Nurse Betty who proceeded to rise and approach Abigail.

  “Come, my dear, we were all enchanted by your story and would like to share it with many others that are trapped in similar circumstances. We have just the place for you.” She firmly gripped Abigail and began pulling her towards the door.

  Too late and with a sudden, overwhelming sensation of horror, Abigail realised she had been duped. The Marquess had only been displaying her as a lunatic that needed to be confined in an asylum.

  “Wait! I will accompany you wherever you wish to take me, but at least allow me to get together the few belongings that I have left in my room,” pleaded Abigail.

  Nurse Betty looked at the doctor who hesitated a few moments before nodding at her. The nurse let go of Abigail’s arm and let her go back upstairs.

  Once in her room, Abigail paced up and down wringing her hands. She knew not what to do. It was evident that her desire to gain the assistance of the Marquess was not possible. The only route left to her now was to in some way escape from the custody of the doctor and nurse before she was taken to the asylum. Once she was confined in the asylum, it would be next to impossible to escape the strict surveillance employed there to guard the inmates. She shuddered in horror as she imagined being trapped in such a place. However, how was she to escape? At that moment, she heard a thumping sound coming from the fireplace. She realised that a white sheet had been spread in front of the hearth after sweeping it out that morning. A voice called down the chimney “Sweeep!” and the next instant a young boy appeared on the hearth covered in soot from head to toe, brush in hand.

  “I beg your pardon, Ma’am; I hope I did not startle thee,” the boy said grinning.

  “No, you did not startle me, but please, I need your help!” Abigail whispered desperately. “I must get out of this house without alerting anyone.”

  The boy stared at her an instant and then nodded his head.

  “Right, I can see thou means what thou sayest. No time to lose then …”

>   A few moments later, the nurse pacing outside the room grew impatient and opened the door ajar to see what her patient was doing inside. She was astounded to see the chimney sweep’s boy vigorously thrusting his brush up and down the chimney while he sang lustily, and there was no sign of Abigail.

  “Where did she go?” demanded the nurse.

  The boy stopped and looked at her. “Who art thou talking about? Is it a cat thou hast lost? I saw a black cat up on the roof a minute ago.”

  “No, you buffoon! Where did the girl go? The lunatic?”

  “I saw neither girl nor lunatic here,” replied the boy gravely. “I only came down the chimney a minute ago myself.”