Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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A feeling of great warmth and concern threatened to overwhelm Theo, but he had to hold himself back. For while he wanted to envelop Lizzy in his arms and tell her he’d protect her forever, he knew he had no right. Theo had done no harm to Lizzy for which he had to atone. He might love her, but honour dictated that he right the wrongs of the past for which he was responsible. And that meant protecting Amelia from the clutches of Lord Leighton.
“Oh Lizzy...I am so sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. For the moment, they were alone. It was only a couple of discreet steps to draw her into the shadows. He held her against him for a moment and put his lips to her brow. “More than anything, I wish…” He stopped himself in time, holding her away from him while she gazed into his face with an expression he couldn’t read. There was no point in giving her hope. “You will be happy,” he promised, though he had no right to do so. “You are young and lovely. You will find a man who deserves you for…I do not.” He took a breath then hesitated. He nearly added that at least he’d saved her from the clutches of Dalgleish. But her experiences were too raw. “Now go and enjoy yourself.” Lightly, he pushed her away from him just as the doors opened to the saloon, and the crowd of sumptuously dressed revellers was revealed for a moment.
That was where she belonged. Not shackled to him—penniless, shunned Theodore McAlister, who had not a feather to fly with and whose reputation was blackened beyond redemption.
Fanny stood just inside the door of the saloon, pretending to take an active interest in the shopping peccadilloes of Miss Norton, the middle-aged daughter of the vicar, while the reception rooms pulsed with the excitement of the pinnacle of the year’s entertainment for the local neighbourhood.
A little distance away, Antoinette and Quamby greeted their guests as they arrived.
The earl had entrusted his wife with keeping a close eye on Miss Amelia Harcourt, while Fanny had elected to keep Lizzy and Mr McAlister in her sights. All were determined that neither heiress would be heading to the chaise-and-four that night.
Or any other night they might be a guest at Quamby House.
Fanny felt it safe to keep her gaze focused just over Miss Norton’s shoulder since the cross-eyed vicar’s daughter would likely not notice, but she was assiduous in her gasps of sympathy and admiration as Miss Norton described the set-down she’d given the haberdasher for cutting her an inch less of the sprigged muslin she’d ordered.
Poor Lizzy. Fanny’s heart went out to her. The girl looked wan and tired, reminding Fanny of the terrible days only five years ago when she, herself, was railing against her mother’s determination to marry her off to loathesome Lord Slyther in order to save the family fortunes.
Lizzy might come with a fortune, but that was hardly hers to enjoy. And while her heart might belong to another, it, too, was not hers to do with what she chose.
Fanny wasn’t entirely certain of what Lizzy’s wishes truly were; but she did know Lizzy was the victim of a dastardly plot between Mrs Hodge and Mr Dalgleish.
Noticing that Miss Norton was looking expectantly at Fanny for some response to what she’d just said, Fanny blinked and said quickly, “No doubt you would have given the impudent gentleman a clip over the ear if you’d only been a foot higher, Miss Norton!” while her thoughts returned to Lizzy.
If Susan was right, and Lizzy was no longer as keen to marry Mr Dalgleish as Mrs Hodge was that she do so, Fanny hoped she had the courage to say so.
Miss Norton was now commenting on her height advantage in respect to picking up dropped items, when a passing dowager said something in Fanny’s ear which gave Fanny the welcome excuse to break off her conversation.
Having clarified that the dowager was complimenting her on her white and mauve ballgown, Fanny became conscious of a ripple of interest amidst the throng. Guiltily she looked about for Lizzy, who’d stepped out of her line of vision, relieved to locate her a few yards away, seemingly alone.
But then Fanny realised this was because the crowd had drawn back, and Lizzy was obviously the centre of attention.
And that she stood at Mr Dalgleish’s side. The young man was speaking, elaborating on something he’d just announced to those in the vicinity. Several ladies were dabbing at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs.
But most alarming was the satisfied smile on Mrs Hodge’s face as Mr Dalgleish said in raised tones, “...and I have no doubt that my bride and I will enjoy many years of future happiness. I thank you all for your felicitations.”
Fanny nearly dropped her fan. Ignoring both the dowager and Miss Norton, who had returned with a nonsensical question about heels on walking boots, Fanny dashed off in search of Fenton whom she could see a short distance away talking to Antoinette and Lord Quamby.
“Did you hear what has happened? Lizzy is marrying Harry Dalgleish!”
“If that’s what she’s agreed to, congratulations to her,” Lord Quamby said equitably. “It is what has been expected for the past four days.”
Fanny turned to her husband. “But Fenton, you heard what Susan said?”
Fenton looked uncomfortable as he glanced at the revellers surrounding them. He lowered his voice. “I don’t really see what can be done,” he said, “if Lizzy has accepted him. We can’t assume that she’s being coerced into something she doesn’t wish to do. She could simply have said no to him.”
Fanny shook her head, shocked her own dear husband could think such a thing. “She could not! You don’t understand the terrible pressure a young girl is under when her elders wish her to marry one way or the other. Have you forgotten what I went through five years ago?”
He touched her nose fondly. “Miss Lizzy reminds me of you, my dear: a young woman who knows how to get what she wants. No doubt she’s weighed up her decision in view of the fact that she couldn’t get Theo McAlister to marry her. Like you, she’s not the kind to be subjugated. You knew how to get what you wanted—and you got it.” He cleared his throat. “And haven’t I been worth it?”
Fanny gripped his lapel as she shook her head in distress. “Fenton, you don’t understand. I was so easily cowed and subjugated. I was so nearly forced to marry Lord Slyther, and it was only because good fortune stepped in. Lord Quamby asked me to marry him and that made you jealous.” She felt close to tears as she tried to make him see the urgency of the situation. “Lizzy is just like I was five years ago. She has no one to help her at least avoid a marriage she doesn’t want, even if she has no one to help her get the marriage she does want. We can’t let her marry Harry Dalgleish. Believe me, I’m sure he did something dreadful to her this afternoon. And he’s using Lizzy as a pawn in his blackmail attempt on Mrs Hodge. Poor Lizzy is like a…a fly in a spider’s web. She’s helpless! We’ve got to help her!”
Fenton appeared to ponder this a moment and was about to speak when Quamby made his awkward way over and demanded, “Where’s Amelia? I’ve just received word that Lord Leighton is less than half an hour away!”
Fanny scanned the room, fixing her gaze on the corner where she’d last spied Amelia.
She wasn’t there.
Carefully she studied every guest she could lay her eyes on.
Amelia was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 26
Where was Amelia?
Fanny didn’t have time to put on more than a shawl and change into walking boots in order to make her way outside with more haste than she could remember.
She had already checked Amelia’s bedchamber where she’d come upon a very grumpy Miss Lemmings whining that she’d better not light the candle and disturb her as her megrim was no better.
The woman had mistaken her for Amelia, and it would be best, Fanny decided, not to disabuse her of this.
Fenton, meanwhile, was searching for Mr McAlister, who had also disappeared. Fanny suspected he’d have as much luck finding him in his bedchamber as Fanny had had finding Amelia in hers.
Now there was nothing left but to rush outdoors and hope she reached the coach-and-four be
fore the eloping couple, though she’d given strict instructions for one of the stable lads to stand guard duty by the park gates and prevent any coach-and-four from leaving or departing. However, a persuasive young lady, she realised, might succeed in overriding her ladyship’s demands.
The pathway that cut across the gardens was newly swept, but a dusting of snow made it easy for Fanny to distinguish the imprint of small footsteps as she reached the perimeter that led towards the woods.
Clutching her shawl about her with one hand, she picked up her skirts with the other and hurried as fast as she could towards the park gates. The moon had made progress easy where the trees were sparse. Indeed, the sky had been well lit as she’d exited by the kitchen door.
But it was dark now in the midst of the woods, and having no lantern, Fanny thought she was at a disadvantage before she rounded a twist in the path and saw a lantern bobbing along the path just up ahead. A little beyond that were the lanterns belonging to the coach; the restless horses and jingling of harness making it clear she was nearly upon her quarry.
That’s if she apprehended the person bearing the single lantern in time. In only seconds they could be leaping into the equipage and urging on the horses.
Fanny put on a spurt of speed, which was a great risk in the darkness given her unsuitable clothing. Clearly, whoever was carrying the lantern had no idea they were being pursued, for when Fanny thrust out a hand and seized an arm, she heard a cry and Miss Amelia Harcourt swung round with a terrified look upon her face.
The young woman began to struggle but, when she recognised Fanny, she obviously considered a different approach for her expression hardened as she said crisply, “You have no authority over me, Lady Fenton.”
“But your uncle does, and he has entrusted your care to Lord Quamby for these few days. I am here on his authority.”
“So he can send me into the clutches of the man who defiled my sister and now wants to marry me solely for my fortune?” Amelia’s voice was harsh and her anger so palpable that Fanny took a step back, snapping a small tree branch and causing the horses to stir.
Time was short, but she hadn’t considered a response like this. She hesitated, saying cautiously, “Take care, Amelia; this is not the way to do it. No one can force a bride to wed against her wishes. It’s enshrined in the law.”
The young woman gave a harsh laugh. “Do you really believe that, Lady Fenton? Do you suppose Miss Scott wishes to marry Mr Dalgleish? I think you know she does not. Yet you saw her meekly acquiesce just a few minutes ago to his marriage proposal.” She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Lady Fenton, before a girl is twenty-five, she is at the mercy of those who use the misnomer ‘their protector’. More often than not, their protector is protecting the young woman’s fortune for their own interests. If you had seen how our uncle protected Catherine and me, you’d understand why I am running away.”
“Running away?” Fanny tried again. “Don’t you mean eloping? Why, you’re eloping with Mr McAlister who is after your fortune just as much as Lord Leighton is.” Collecting herself, Fanny managed to replace the urgency in her tone with something more soothing as she gently gripped Amelia’s upper arms. “Granted, Mr McAlister is very charming, but he is not in love with you, Amelia. I can’t bear to think of you throwing your life away to be with a penniless fortune hunter.”
Amelia looked at her strangely. “Is that what you really think? Do you imagine I am so foolish as to run away on account of love?”
Fanny blinked. “That’s why couples elope.”
“I’m escaping.” Amelia drew in a sharp breath. “I’m escaping because I begged Theo to run away with me. To save me. At first, I thought it would be in his interests as much as mine. After all, he sacrificed his good name and all but lost his fortune on account of what his sister, Jane—my friend!—and I begged him to do when he went in pursuit of Catherine last year.” She was growing angry now, her breath clouding in the air illuminated by the lantern. “No one would believe what really happened because Catherine and Theo were young, and because my uncle is rich and powerful with friends in all the right places—including Lord Quamby.” She gave a bitter laugh. “No doubt Lord Quamby thinks my uncle and,” she swallowed, “my husband-to-be the most genial of gentlemen. It’s not the case.”
Fanny dropped her hands and regarded the angry young woman in front of her. She didn’t know what to say.
Soft footfalls in the snow made her turn, huffing out a surprised breath when she saw Mabel struggling with a small carpetbag.
“I tried ter find the right things, Miss ʼArcourt,” said Mabel, before glancing up, wide-eyed, to behold Fanny. She stopped and dropped the heavy bag at her feet, looking first at Amelia and then at Fanny as if she didn’t know who to trust. Raising her lantern, she asked warily, “Are yer ʼelping wiv the escape, m’lady? ‘Cos if yer are, I can’t find me mistress anywhere an’ there ain’t much time.” She sent an urgent look towards Amelia. “I ʼeard Lord Leighton is not far away. The weather’s bin better than expected. I ʼeard it in the servants’ hall that ʼe’s on ʼis way.”
Amelia nodded. “Then we must hurry! Where is Mr McAlister?”
“‘E’s on ‘is way. I saw ʼe was ʼeld up by someone, but when I turned back I saw ’im comin’.”
Fanny threw up her hands. “What is going on? Isn’t your mistress Miss Scott? Lizzy?” she asked Mabel, before turning back to Amelia. “I thought Mr McAlister was eloping with you.”
“He is.” Amelia glanced over her shoulder at the carriage, and then back towards the house. Lights shone from every window, lending it a magical air. “I must get these into the coach and I’ll explain,” she said, bending down to pick up the small trunk she’d dropped. “Yes, Theo is eloping with me, but he’s in love with Miss Scott.”
Twigs crackled as they made their way towards the carriage and the voice of the stable lad carried across to them, young and concerned.
“Don’t worry, Tom! It’s Lady Fenton. I have the matter in hand,” Fanny reassured him before muttering to the young woman at her side, “I hardly think Mr McAlister will succeed in eloping with both of you.”
“He’s rescuing both of us, Lady Fenton. Or, he will agree to do so, gladly, when he arrives and I tell him of the alteration to our plans I believe to be in all our best interests.”
One of the postilions leapt forward to open the door and help Amelia deposit her trunk on the floor of the carriage while Fanny protested, “This is madness, Miss Harcourt! Are you now telling me Mr McAlister doesn’t know of this?”
Miss Harcourt glanced up at Fanny with a small frown. “I’m sure he’ll be very amenable. Right now, he thinks he’s running away with me, but he’ll hardly be doing me a favour if I have to live with the knowledge he’s left his heart with Miss Scott for all the years I am his lawful wife.” She stepped aside to let Mabel toss in her mistress’s carpetbag, saying with greater urgency, “Please Mabel, run back to the house and find your mistress. I think the lantern I see up ahead is Theo. We don’t have much time. Now, go!”
Amelia hoisted herself onto the small step of the carriage and hesitated, looking down at Fanny. “Would you care to step inside and get warm so I can further explain our situation? If you take the trouble to hear it, it may stop you from running back to the house to raise the alarm.”
There seemed little choice. A return to the house would see the horses whipped up the moment Fanny’s back was turned. She allowed the postilion to help her into the dim space, settling onto the cold leather seat to face Amelia and leaning forward to warn her, “Eloping carries a great stigma, Miss Harcourt. I’m sure there are better ways of making your elders see reason.”
“And did you take the calm, considered approach, and meekly obey your elders when faced with an unwelcome marriage, Lady Fenton?”
The question silenced her, and Amelia went on, “Sometimes it is as burdensome having a fortune as it is being penniless. In the former case, an heiress is desired for the wr
ong reasons; in the latter, a young woman is desired by no one.”
“And you find it a burden having a fortune, Amelia?” Fanny asked as the postilion tucked hot bricks beneath their feet. “I believe you will come into your inheritance on your twenty-first birthday. That is not very long to wait.”
“Three months. No, it is not.” Amelia nodded. “But Lord Leighton is arriving tonight to take me to my uncle. Lord Quamby is his friend. I do not wish to go, but my wishes will count for as much—or little—as Catherine’s did when Lord Leighton forced himself on her in order to make her his bride. Theo knows what happened.” Amelia shuddered.
Fanny struggled to answer. Amelia’s shocking story sounded credible, but she couldn’t rid herself of Quamby’s scepticism should she not be able to furnish him with more than hearsay.
“I’m sorry, Amelia! That’s truly terrible. It sounds like you’ve known Mr McAlister a long time.”
“For more than ten years. His sister, Jane, was Catherine’s and my best friend. Theo was a little older than us, but like a brother, so, last year, when I received a frantic letter from Catherine telling us that our uncle had tricked her and was forcing her to marry Lord Leighton, he lost no time in bringing her back, but…he was too late.”
She stopped abruptly, and Fanny saw that emotion had overcome her and she’d covered her face with her hands.
“I’m so sorry.” Fanny reached out, then drew back as she heard the tread of Mr McAlister’s footsteps nearly upon them. “Believe me, Miss Harcourt, I am a champion of the love match but…what about your heart? You tell me you don’t love Mr McAlister, but—”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be in love with anyone or anything—except my independence.” She raised her head. “But I value loyalty above my heart’s desire. If Theo wants my fortune, he can have it for what he’s doing for me.” She cleared her throat. “But if he wants to marry Miss Scott, I’ve decided that I shall loan them what they need until she comes into her inheritance—if he’ll only rescue me from Lord Leighton.”