Indecently Daring by Emma V Leech
Chapter 3
My Lord Marquess,
By some stroke of misfortune, your last letter to me only came to my attention this morning, though it is dated the 22 December. It seems it was discovered down the back of a sideboard in the hallway, where it has languished all this time. I hope you have not thought too ill of me for not having replied until now, for I would have done so at once, if I had known.
Since reading it this morning, I am all anxiety, for your words disturbed me greatly. I tell myself that you must be in earnest when you say you are at your wit’s end, for I do not believe the estimable Humboldt would allow you to say such things to me if they were not true. He is obviously in your confidence, and of a mind to agree that there is something to fear.
To answer the question you posed and with all haste, for I wish to return this belated reply to you at once—yes. Yes, you may trust me, Wrexham. I swear it.
―Excerpt of a letter to Miss Emmeline Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) from The Most Hon’ble Leander Steyning, The Marquess of Wrexham.
6th January 1845, Holbrook House, Sussex.
“Do you miss him?” Alana turned to look at Cat as they walked through the frozen gardens around Holbrook.
“Yes,” she said simply, not needing Cat to say Ollie’s name to know of whom she spoke.
They stared down at the lake, admiring the way the sun glinted on the water like diamonds. The sky above was blue, and Alana blew out a breath that clouded about her face in a great white plume.
“But you did the right thing?” Cat pressed, and Alana could feel the weight of her gaze.
“Yes,” she said again, and with the knowledge came a sense of peace.
Ollie would be fine, he would be happy again, and so would she. They both knew it, though Ollie had taken longer to admit she was right, but that did not mean her heart did not ache for the dream she had lost.
Oliver had fallen head over ears in love with her back when they were both fifteen. The romance of it had swept her up too, the notion of being childhood sweethearts, and living a future together that they meticulously planned year by year. They spoke endlessly about the home they would create, the farm they would have, how it would work between them. They had been so certain, so convinced of everything to come, until Alana had realised with a blinding and unwelcome flash of clarity—they were not in love.
“You really didn’t love him?”
Alana laughed softly. “Yes, I did. Of course I did. We loved each other, but not in the way Elspeth loves Dare, or how Greer loves Raphe. We were just children when it began so we didn’t see, didn’t notice the difference. If we hadn’t so many examples of what a real love match looks like, we might have carried blithely on, might have married, and perhaps we would have been content… or perhaps we would have both lived to regret it.”
She shrugged, the bittersweet sense of loss stirring in her chest as it always did when she spoke of Ollie.
“It wouldn’t have been enough.”
“No.”
Cat nodded, her expression grave. “So, you must face the marriage mart after all.”
Alana groaned and threw up her hands. “Yes! And entirely unprepared. Cat, can I tell you a secret?”
Cat squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I should be offended if you didn’t.”
“I’m scared to death.”
Cat gave a little laugh and leaned into her, resting her head on Alana’s shoulder. “Oh, you silly goose. We all are.”
Alana frowned, turning to regard Cat with surprise. She found it hard to believe Cat was afraid of anything. Her friend looked up and snorted.
“Of course I am! Good heavens, Alana, I have such plans, but I do not know for certain if I am choosing the right path, if I will get what I want in the end, or make a great muck of it all. But what else is there to do but try?”
Alana nodded, somewhat comforted to know even Cat, with her beauty and all her advantages, was feeling out of her depth as this pivotal moment in their lives loomed before them. Mama had guessed at the depths of Alana’s anxiety and had taken pity, suggesting she spend some time with her Aunt Harriet and Uncle Jasper. Aunt Harriet loved to entertain and often gave lavish parties. She had become a powerful figure in society, and though most people would soon leave the country for the London season, there was still a little time left for Harriet to help Alana find her feet in a safer environment before she was thrust into the cutthroat world of London society. Maybe she could even teach her some manners before the ton inevitably labelled her a hoyden. But then the Cadogan girls had always borne that title, courtesy of their irreverent mother, who still caused a stir wherever she went, even now.
“I don’t want to go to London, Cat. I know it’s foolish, but I can’t bear it. I so wish I were more like Mama,” Alana said with a sigh. “She simply loves life, and people, and she doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss what those people think of her. She says other people’s opinions are none of our business and we ought not regard them.”
“She’s very wise, your mama,” said Cat with a grin.
Alana laughed, nodding. “As she is the happiest person I know, I can only agree, for surely it is wisest to be happy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. So, let’s do that, Lana. Let’s be happy.”
Alana’s lips quirked into a smile, and she held out her hand to Cat. “I will if you will.”
“A deal,” Cat replied decisively, and they shook upon it.
“Good morning, my lady,” Harry said with a smile, opening the door to the village hall to let in Lady St Clair. “You’re early.”
“The early bird catches the worm, Reverend,” the countess said with a bright smile.
Harry laughed, charmed as always by the lady’s boundless energy. “Well, I have set up the tables and chairs. Just how many worms are you expecting?”
“I’m uncertain. A dozen, perhaps, but the appeal of a charity auction appears to be working upon the community. It was a good idea of Alana’s. She’s a bright girl.”
“I’m certain she is,” Harry replied politely, though he did not enjoy the girl’s presence. He did not feel easy when she was nearby and had avoided speaking to her directly ever since she’d arrived. Inevitably in such a tight-knit community their paths crossed often, but she seemed aware of his discomfort and kept her distance too. Harry knew he was being ridiculous, but her strangely piercing eyes disturbed him. They were not the startling turquoise of her uncle’s, the earl, but she had inherited something of that blue tinted sea-green hue, and a way of looking at one as though she knew all your secrets. It was an uncomfortable sensation and one he was keen to avoid.
As if he had summoned her with the thought, Harry turned at that moment to see Miss Cadogan and Lady Catherine enter the hall. By rights, he ought to have been dazzled by Lady Catherine, who was surely Aphrodite in the flesh, the most stunning creature he had ever seen, but it was Artemis that drew his attention, and kept it. A shaft of sunlight pierced the early morning gloom of the hall and suddenly there she was, the goddess of the hunt, of the wilderness and the great outdoors, standing in a puddle of golden sunlight. The hall seemed suddenly all wrong, too small to contain her lively spirit, and he sensed her impatience with the dark, musty interior, her desire to be outside under the blue sky. She was dressed all in green and she turned then, those too-bright eyes meeting his. Harry’s breath caught, and he forced himself to look away, to drag his attention from her and back to the work he was supposed to do here today. He did not have the time or the energy for such nonsense. He had committed himself to serve God, to serve his community to the best of his ability, and he did not need distractions of that nature to tempt him from his purpose. He had a job to do, and do it he would.
Once everyone was gathered, Lady St Clair greeted the assembled company. As well as the countess and her four guests, there was the countess’ sister-in-law, Mrs Florence Stanhope; Mrs Grace Oak; Mr and Mrs Bishop who ran The Lamb, the pub in the village; Mrs Stevens from the general store; the elderly Dr Haysom; Miss Dudley, a kindly spinster who looked at Harry as if she stood in the presence of a divine being; and, inevitably, Miss Hatchet. Harry forced his mind away from the uncharitable thoughts that stirred there at the sight of the aptly named woman. Miss Hatchet was a mean-spirited gossip and troublemaker, and the only person who tolerated her company was Miss Dudley. Everyone found this entirely incomprehensible, for Miss Dudley was a sweet-natured if fussy creature who never had a bad word for anyone.
“Thank you all for coming,” Harry said, greeting them all with a smile. “As I believe you know, Lady St Clair has kindly offered to host a charity auction to raise funds for the boys’ school. This would enable us to employ a full-time teacher, to bolster my sorry efforts, and so we might create a canteen that provides hot meals and employ a cook to work in it. A most worthy albeit ambitious undertaking, I know, but with the support of such an enthusiastic committee, I feel confident we can achieve our aim. I understand you have already made a contribution, Mrs Bishop?”
“Aye, that’s right,” Mrs Bishop said proudly. “Four vouchers for a roast dinner at the Lamb, and a full dinner mind, with dessert and cheese. Wine, too, so it’s a decent sum to give away.”
“Indeed, it is most generous. You are an example to us all,” Harry said warmly, for he knew Mrs Bishop still viewed him with deep suspicion, offended that in the nearly five years he’d been in this parish, he’d never set foot in her comfortable inn, despite the reputation it had for good ale and excellent food. “I’m certain it will attract an enthusiastic response.”
“Bloomin’ well ought to,” Mr Bishop muttered glumly.
Harry ignored this and turned his attention to Miss Dudley, who had given a nervous little cough.
“I’m knitting scarves and mittens,” she offered with a shy smile, lifting her knitting needles, which had been clicking away incessantly as they spoke.
“An excellent effort, Miss Dudley, thank you,” Harry said, clearing his throat as she flushed pink with pleasure.
“I have some rather magnificent cauliflowers,” Dr Haysom offered. “I would be happy to donate some to the cause, and my wife has offered a fruit cake. She makes a marvellous fruitcake,” he added, looking a little wistful.
“I always find it rather dry,” Miss Hatchet murmured to Miss Dudley, who shot a panicked glance towards Harry.
“That’s excellent, Dr Haysom,” Harry replied enthusiastically, relieved that Haysom had become rather deaf of late, and feigning ignorance of Miss Hatchet’s words. “Mrs Oak? I believe you have a donation too?”
Mrs Oak nodded, and Harry smiled. She was a lovely woman, delicate and gently spoken and Harry very much liked her husband, Sterling, who was a decent, hardworking fellow.
“A spring lamb, and a cask of ale.”
“You’d best put a warning on that ale,” Mrs Stanhope said with a laugh. “It’s dangerous stuff. I still remember Lord Bainbridge face down in your lavender bush after having sampled it.”
Mrs Oak grinned mischievously. “Sterling says it kicks like a mule.”
Harry turned as he felt eyes upon him to discover Miss Cadogan watching him curiously. It was only then that he realised he was scowling and hastily rearranged his face. No doubt the young woman thought him a dreadful killjoy. The thought irritated him more than it ought, and he forced his attention back to the meeting.
By the time everyone had made their donations, including some very fine wood carvings by Lady St Clair’s husband, and a beautifully bound set of Dickens novels from the lady herself, they had a very respectable start to the auction. Lady Catherine and Miss Cadogan were to be escorted by Dr Haysom to all the wealthiest houses in the parish in order to wheedle out as generous a donation to the proceedings as they could, and Mrs Stanhope had offered her services to paint signs that would be placed around the village to inform people of the upcoming event. Miss Cadogan had also suggested a tombola might be a good idea, so that even those who could not afford to bid at the auction could have a chance of winning something, which Harry had to admit was an excellent notion. They were just about to wrap things up for the morning when there was a knock on the door, which opened to reveal three young women.
“Oh, we’re so sorry. We didn’t know there was a meeting going on.”
“Miss Steadman, what can we do for you?” Harry asked, fighting to keep the impatience from his voice.
The girl was only sixteen, and had taken to ambushing Harry at every opportunity, lying in wait for him, and even coming to his home unescorted. Despite remonstrating with her mother, the visits continued. Today, it seemed she had gathered reinforcements.
“I brought you some jam tarts,” she said, taking his question as an invitation to enter the hall. “I made them myself,” she added, looking up at him from under her lashes.
Harry experienced a rush of frustration. He had no desire to hurt the poor girl’s feelings, but he had no desire to encourage her efforts either, which could only end in disaster for them both.
“Well, that’s very good of you. I’m not one for sweets, I’m afraid, but I don’t doubt the committee here will appreciate your efforts.”
“Oh,” Miss Steadman replied, obviously dismayed to see her efforts squandered on the rest of the company. “Oh, well, of course.”
Harry squashed down the niggle of guilt at giving away the gift she’d brought him and set about tidying the hall as everyone else gathered around Miss Steadman and her friends and took a jam tart.
“Isn’t lying a sin?”
Harry looked up from the stack of notes he’d compiled to see Miss Cadogan watching him curiously. She took a bite from the tart she held and chewed thoughtfully.
Strawberry, Harry noticed with regret. His favourite.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” he said, his gaze dropping to the young woman’s mouth as her tongue darted out to chase an errant crumb. Something hot and sharp spiked in his blood and he forced his gaze back to his notes.
“You told that young woman you don’t like sweets, but at my aunt’s house, you ate a half dozen sugar biscuits with obvious enjoyment.”
Harry bristled, irritated that she’d noticed such a thing and not a little mortified. “I beg your pardon, I shall be less indulgent the next time I visit.”
Miss Cadogan shook her head. “I don’t care if you eat the entire plate, I just wondered why you’d lie about it. The poor girl looked crushed. I thought vicars were supposed to be kindly?”
“And I’m not kindly?” he said, glaring at her. How outrageous! In the space of a minute she’d accused him of lying, gluttony, and of being unkind.
The girl shrugged, apparently unperturbed by his tone. “I’ve no idea. I don’t know you at all, but you lied about not liking sweet things in order to be unkind. It seemed odd to me. I just wondered why, not that you need tell me. I know it’s none of my business, but I’m notoriously curious. I’m told it will be my undoing one day, which I don’t doubt is entirely true.”
Harry stared at her, so startled by her candour he hardly knew how to reply. Miss Cadogan waited for a moment, and when he did not answer, turned away.
“If you must have it, Miss Cadogan,” Harry said, unable to keep the impatience from his voice. “Miss Steadman has me in her sights as a romantic prospect. I don’t have the least desire to encourage her and so, if I seemed rather harsh, that is the reason. It is for her own good, and mine. She is a mere child, an innocent creature who has no notion of what she is doing, and I do not wish for anyone to speak ill of her.”
Miss Cadogan’s expression cleared. “Oh, I see. Well, yes, of course I can understand your difficulty. I don’t doubt there are plenty of those eager to spread mischievous gossip about the unmarried vicar. Miss Hatchet would be as happy as a pig in—”
“Miss Cadogan!” Harry said in shock.
“—a puddle,” she finished, eyes wide, and far too innocent. The wretch. She had been baiting him. Her lips twitched. “I beg your pardon, vicar. I ought not to tease you. I quite understand. No doubt you are plagued on all sides by young women setting their caps at you. It must be very trying.”
Though her words were sincere, there was laughter dancing in her eyes and Harry frowned, thoroughly unsettled and uncertain if she was still mocking him.
“Lana, do come along,” Cat said, gesturing to her to hurry. “Dr Haysom is going to walk to the manor with us. I am determined to get three hams from Mr Davies at the very least. Your aunt says he’s a dreadful nip cheese, so we must employ our most dazzling smiles and bamboozle the old curmudgeon.”
“All in a good cause, vicar,” Miss Cadogan said to him, though her lips quivered with amusement as she took in his sceptical expression.
Harry watched them go, and despite knowing they were quite right, Mr Davies was stingy and could very well afford to donate four hams without blinking, he could not help but pity the man.
