Page 29 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

CORLAND CASTLE, NORTH RIDING: SEPTEMBER

M iss Olivia Atherton sat at the elegant escritoire in her bedroom and read the newspaper report avidly. It was the fourth time she had read it, and she still enjoyed the same little thrill as the first time, as if her very blood were fizzing with excitement. Every such report was glorious, of course, but this one was unusually long and detailed.

‘An event of the greatest interest to students of the Latin language recently took place in the magnificent medieval setting of Landerby Manor in the county of Lincolnshire.’

Then a great deal about the house and its owners, the Duke and Duchess of Wedhampton, which was of little interest to Olivia. She jumped ahead to the important part.

‘Among the many distinguished guests, most notable of them was the Most Honourable, the Marquess of Embleton, heir to His Grace, the Duke of Bridgeworth. Lord Embleton graciously attended the entire event, and delighted all present by his contribution to the scholarly recitals, being a number of poems in classical Latin form, written by his lordship’s own hand and agreed by all to be of the highest calibre, and comparable to the works of the great poets of the Roman era themselves. Lord Embleton being too modest to read his own works to the assembled company, this pleasant task was undertaken by Mr Bertram Atherton, nephew to the Right Honourable the Earl of Rennington. Mr Atherton performed this office with the greatest eloquence, ensuring that the true beauty of the verses could be fully appreciated by the rapt audience.’

Too modest! He suffered from a stammer, that much she knew, so naturally public recitals would be a great trial to him. Well done, Cousin Bertram, for stepping forward to help his friend. Then there was a great deal more about the other guests and the Latin readings, which she cared nothing about. There was a brief mention of the Franklyns, and Lady Esther’s father, the Duke of Camberley, was mentioned. How the newspapers loved the nobility! But how frustrating that Bea Franklyn should be there and actually meeting all these illustrious people, when it was Olivia who had studied them obsessively for so many years and knew all about them. And especially one of them in particular.

He had another mention later, for the gentlemen had held a fencing contest one day, which Mr Franklyn, astonishingly, had won, but the marquess had done almost as well.

‘The match between Lord Embleton and Lord Grayling was of especial note for the skill exhibited by both gentlemen, Lord Embleton’s performance being much admired for his graceful movements and Lord Grayling’s for his strength and determination. The match was long and evenly balanced, but in the end Lord Grayling prevailed.’

Lord Grayling! That a mere baron should defeat a marquess and future duke was not how the world should be run, according to Olivia. And that a nobody like Mr Franklyn should defeat all the assembled nobles seemed unconscionable. Not that she had anything against Mr Franklyn, who was an amiable gentleman, and allowed Lady Esther to hold the most magnificent entertainments at Highwood Place, and he had not himself defeated her marquess, so she could not object to him on that score.

Not that he was her marquess, or ever likely to be, for she had never met him. Ever since she was thirteen and her older sister Izzy had come back from her first London season glowing with success, with a viscount on her arm and eleven other offers to boast about, Olivia had been determined to outdo her. A duke — nothing would do for her but a duke, and so she had assiduously studied the peerage to make her selection.

It was a depressing business. Twenty-seven dukes, that was all there were in the entire kingdom, and who wanted to live in Scotland or Ireland? A warmer, flatter southern county would be ideal, and preferably close to London. That narrowed her options, and a distressing number of those remaining were married already or too old or too young. Gradually, she had come to realise that there was just one man who encompassed all her requirements. The Marquess of Embleton. Ralph, for that was his Christian name, was heir to a dukedom in Buckinghamshire, of suitable age and unmarried.

She had watched for the reports of his activities in the newspapers, carefully cutting out each one, the important points to be transcribed into a book she kept for the purpose. For three years now she had tracked every ball he attended, every country house where he was a guest, every shooting party in which he participated, every horse race he watched. Three years, ever since she was fifteen, and he was now thirty and still unmarried. If she had gone up to town for her first season last spring, she would have met him there, and could have dazzled him with her knowledge of racehorses, and the Latin verses she had memorised.

But Grandmama had been so very ill that the season had been postponed and thus Olivia had not met the man who was to make her a duchess. Nor was it ever likely to happen, not now, not when everything in her life had gone so horribly wrong. Six months ago, she could have gone up to town as the Lady Olivia Atherton, legitimate daughter of an earl, and a catch worthy even of a future duke.

But in June their chaplain — her uncle by marriage! — had been murdered, which was dreadful enough, but the worst part was that he had never been ordained as a clergyman, and therefore her parents’ marriage, at which he had officiated, was not legal. Her mother was no longer the Countess of Rennington, her eldest brother was no longer Viscount Birtwell and heir to the earldom, and all six of the earl’s children were rendered illegitimate.

Now she was merely Miss Olivia Atherton, still an earl’s daughter, still with the same dowry, but cast out of all good society, for surely no one would want to know her. It was depressing, but despite her reduced prospects, she still kept up her careful watch on Lord Embleton.

A knock on the door heralded the maid. “Beg pardon, milady, but Lady Alice says to tell you there’s a caller.”

Company! Olivia jumped up excitedly. As usual, she forbore to remind the maid that she was no longer Lady Olivia. The servants all kept to the same form of address and although it was incorrect, it soothed her a little to still be ‘milady’.

“Who is it, Patsy?”

“Lady Esther, milady.”

Now that was interesting. Olivia had not seen her since her return from Landerby Manor, so she could ask about that and perhaps have the felicity of hearing a mention of Lord Embleton. Ralph.

“Tell Aunt Alice that I shall be down soon.”

A quick look in the mirror reassured her that there was nothing amiss with her appearance, but since it was Lady Esther, the daughter of a duke, she added a necklace to her attire — the amber cross elegantly combined demure piety and wealth.

Olivia skipped down the stairs, past Eustace’s ridiculous display of armoury on the half-landing, flanked by the Chinese urns, which she rather liked, and into the great hall, the upper walls lined with a vast array of weapons. Corland Castle was not an ancient building, the scene of many battles, but the earl liked to pretend it was.

Her slippers making no sound on the tiled floor, she moved down the great hall into the passage beside the stairs and thence to the drawing room. She arrived just behind another group of callers.

“Lady Strong, Miss Strong, Miss Lily Strong, my lady,” intoned Simpson. Then, seeing Olivia coming up behind them, he added, “The Lady Olivia, my lady.”

At Corland, even the family had to be announced, so that Aunt Alice, who had been blind since a childhood illness, might know precisely who was in the room. Her own daughter, Olivia’s cousin, Tess Nicholson, was inclined to creep into a room unnoticed and take her mother by surprise when she spoke, but Olivia was not so ill-mannered.

Crossing the room quickly, she gave Aunt Alice a hasty kiss, then moved aside for the Strongs to make their greetings. Lady Esther, who had been sitting beside Aunt Alice, now rose and moved across to the earl, who was looking a little bemused.

“Ah, Olivia!” he called out. “Come and sit beside your papa, and tell me all that you have been doing.”

She was happy to comply. Poor Papa! He looked so lost these days, for Mama had gone away now that she was not his wife any more, telling him to marry someone younger who would be able to give him legitimate sons. He was dutifully searching for a new wife, but he missed her dreadfully. Olivia would not have minded running away, too, but how could she leave poor Papa with no one to see to his comfort? Her brothers were useless and her older sisters were married. As for Aunt Alice, she was so sunk in grief for her murdered husband that she barely knew what day it was, and had only emerged from seclusion now that a man had confessed to killing poor Uncle Nicholson.

So Olivia sat on one side of the earl, and Lady Esther the other, although it was mostly Olivia who kept the conversation going, for Lady Esther seemed sunk in gloom.

Olivia could not wait to get to the important point, however, so as soon as the earl was drawn away to talk to the Strongs, she said, “How did you enjoy your stay at Landerby Manor, Lady Esther?”

“It was very pleasant. The Duke and Duchess of Wedhampton were most gracious. I felt quite at home there.”

“And Mr Franklyn was a great success in the fencing tournament, I understand.”

Lady Esther made a little moue of distaste. “Well… he enjoys the sport. For myself, I find it deeply unpleasant to watch men fighting, but it is more respectable than some hobbies, so I make no objection.”

“And how did Miss Franklyn enjoy her stay? I am sure she was a great success amongst the gentlemen.”

Olivia had heard certain rumours about Miss Franklyn’s enjoyment, for Bea was not noted for shyness or even for good manners, if truth were told, but she expected a bland response from Lady Franklyn. After all, although she was not Bea’s mother, as her stepmother, she had always put a good face on Bea’s little transgressions.

Much to Olivia’s surprise, Lady Esther’s face hardened. “Oh, do not talk to me of Beatrice! I can barely speak her name. I intended to bring her with me today, and we set out just as planned, but then Mr Bertram Atherton came galloping after us, jumping hedges and I know not what to catch up with us, and behaving in the most appalling fashion to me.”

“Bertram?” Olivia said, astonished. “Jumping hedges? He never jumps!”

“Well, he did today, forcing the coach to stop. Then he shouted at me, positively shouted, in the most uncouth fashion, dragged Beatrice out forcibly, and now he has ridden off with her. Such intemperance!”

“Bertram?” Olivia said again, trying to reconcile this passionate young man with her studious, bespectacled cousin, who never lifted his head from his ancient books and was unfailingly polite to everyone. The same Bertram who had sworn never to marry Bea Franklyn and had now apparently ridden off with her.

“You might well look astonished, Miss Atherton,” Lady Esther said.

Oh. How lowering. She was Miss Atherton to her ladyship, of course. A duke’s daughter would never get that wrong, or be kind enough to forget that she was no longer Lady Olivia.

“You will be even more astonished to hear that Beatrice turned down the possibility of being a duchess in order to ally herself with a man who might, or more likely might not, be an earl one day.”

“Turn down a duke? Ohhh…” Olivia breathed. “I should never do that. I should love to marry a duke. I want to be a duchess above all things.”

Lady Esther’s face softened, and she turned fully to face Olivia. “A worthy ambition indeed. Every woman should aim as high as she can when looking for a husband. Beatrice’s offer was not from a duke, but from the heir to a dukedom, which to my mind is even better. So many of the unmarried dukes are in their dotage.”

“The Duke of Argyll is only thirty-nine.”

“A Scottish peerage!” she said with a grimace. “Inveraray Castle is so far to the north, and think of the weather!”

“Oh, I know. I thought Buckinghamshire would be better situated for weather, and nearer to town, as well.”

“Buckinghamshire? Then… you have a particular duke in mind? The Buckingham line is extinct, so you refer, I collect, to the Duke of Bridgeworth, or his heir, the Marquess of Embleton.”

“The Marquess. He is thirty years of age and single.”

“I was not aware that you were acquainted with Lord Embleton.”

Olivia should, perhaps, have been more discreet in her disclosures, for not everyone would approve of her ambition, but Lady Esther was one person who surely would. “I have never met him, but I should very much like to. What is he like?”

“Not a distinguished man in appearance. Rather the opposite, but gentlemanly in his manner and style of dress. Very quiet.”

“He stammers.”

“Ah. You know about that.”

“Izzy told me. I also know that he is a keen sportsman. He fences, rides to hounds, shoots, and keeps race horses.”

“You are very well informed.”

“I keep all the newspaper cuttings that mention him. I have been following him for several years now.”

Lady Esther smiled. This was such a rare event that Olivia barely recognised her. She looked almost approachable. “Ah, if only you were my daughter! But I suppose with your mother away and your aunt confined to the castle by her unfortunate condition, there would be no objection if I were to… take you under my wing, so to speak. After all, Beatrice seems to have settled her own future, so now I am at a loose end. Should you like that? I believe I can help you achieve your ambition, Miss Atherton.”

“Even though I am not legitimate?”

“You are still the daughter of an earl with a respectable dowry, no doubt, and Olivia — may I call you by your name? — Olivia, you are as pretty as paint, you know. You have all your sister Isabel’s beauty and lively spirit, without her wayward turns, and you have a much, much better figure.”

“I am very fond of cake,” Olivia murmured, lowering her eyes.

Lady Esther laughed, an event so rare that Olivia wondered momentarily if she were about to have an apoplexy. But no, it was merely laughter. Leaning forward a little, she whispered into Olivia’s ear, “Gentlemen are attracted to a lady who is fond of cake.” Then, in a more normal voice, she went on, “Of course, it would not do to become positively fat, but you are very far from that state. Yes, you have a much better figure. There is a drawing on the wall over there that I should like to examine more closely, if you will be so good as to accompany me.”

Surprised but willing, Olivia crossed the room in Lady Esther’s wake.

“There! Now we cannot be overheard,” she murmured, her voice so low that Olivia had to strain to hear it. “I shall tell you something in the strictest confidence, Olivia. The ducal heir that Beatrice turned down was none other than Lord Embleton.”

“Then it is no use!” Olivia cried, before remembering to whisper. “If he is in love with Bea, he will not so much as look at me.”

“No, it is very much to the point, for a man who is already thinking of matrimony is ripe to fall into willing hands. He is not so very much in love with Beatrice, I fancy, but he believed her to be in love with him, that was what drove him to offer for her, and I know precisely what gave him the idea — she kissed him.”

“Oh! How very—”

“Forward of her? Yes, but that is Beatrice for you, and even though it was inadvertent in this case, it did the trick, for it brought him straight to the point. So that is what you must do when you meet him.”

“But how am I ever to meet him?” Olivia said in crushed tones. “He is about to begin his autumn round of visits to relations for the sporting season, and I am confined to the castle.”

Lady Esther smiled again. “Then we shall just have to bring him here, shall we not? I happen to know that he is staying with his sister, Lady Harraby, at Harraby Hall, which is three miles this side of Thirsk. If I pen a brief note, just to express my regret that matters with Beatrice did not work out as we had hoped, I could perhaps mention that Lord Rennington is in low spirits just now after his recent difficulties and would undoubtedly be cheered by a visit from a fellow peer… that should do the trick.”

“But if he calls to see Papa, he will spend half an hour in Papa’s study and then go away again.”

“Now, now, where is your ingenuity? Naturally, you will ensure that your butler apprises you of such a distinguished visitor, and you can find an excuse to join them. Then you invite him to dinner. He will be too polite to refuse.”

“He could come to our big party on Friday.”

Lady Esther winced. “With the entire neighbourhood ogling him? And Beatrice will be there, who has just refused to marry him. No, a quiet family dinner, that is what is needed so you have his full attention, and you will have an entire evening to get to know him.”

“And to kiss him?” Olivia said doubtfully.

“If the opportunity should arise,” Lady Esther said firmly. “A kiss is so definitive, is it not? A man cannot mistake one’s intent if one kisses him. It is better if the will to kiss should come from him, but one cannot wait for a man to realise what is needed or one might never get a husband. A lady must go out and seize her destiny in her own hands, Olivia, and I shall help you do precisely that.”

Seize her destiny! How glorious that sounded! And perhaps, with Lady Esther’s guidance, Olivia would one day be a duchess.

END OF SAMPLE CHAPTER