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The hovel where George was headed was located deep in the forest about two miles from the Earl of Quamby’s estate. George knew exactly where he was going, for he’d called upon Splice on several previous occasions when he needed something doing of a dubious nature. He doubted many would trust the barrel-headed rustic who’d finally answered his summons, but George knew Splice was discreet.
As long as he was paid as agreed.
The light was fading when George stepped over the threshold, so the room in which he was invited to put his proposition was dark and gloomy. Hessian bags covered the windows and the dirt floor exuded a pungent odour that suggested Splice shared his abode with his pig and his goat.
It didn’t take long to explain exactly what he needed doing. Nor was there any indication as to how Splice felt about performing what might be deemed an illegal act, were he to have to use brute force rather than enticement.
“One final thing.” George turned back after he’d taken a couple of steps. “Bathe in the stream before you meet Miss Brightwell, otherwise she’ll smell more than a rat. Those clothes you’ll be wearing were borrowed from a gentleman and cost a pretty penny. I’d rather not have to burn them when you’re done.”
A heavy melancholy weighed on Thea’s shoulders as she sat at her aunt’s feet, holding a skein of thread, dreaming of her last encounter with Mr Grayling.
Her euphoria had drained away once she contemplated the truth of the situation. A gentleman couldn’t conjure up a fortune out of nowhere. Mr Grayling could not suddenly be in a position to ask her to marry him tomorrow when the previous day he’d declared himself just as in love but lacking sufficient fortune in view of his multiple familial obligations.
Of course, it was more than just having a carriage and the funds to enjoy the season once a year which might be major considerations for minor gentry. It was how to make the funds available do what they had to do—and Mr Bramley had more than just himself to consider. It wasn’t simply an ambitious mama he had to satisfy, but rather an estate he was likely to inherit, which required enormous upkeep. Hundreds of tenant farmers and servants would depend upon Mr Grayling being in a secure financial situation and Thea now realised how important it was to so many for Mr Grayling to make an illustrious marriage.
Yet…and this was where a small ray of hope shone through the rest of the gloom and doom. Mr Grayling had said it had been too long since he’d discussed matters with his man of business. He’d given her distinct reason to hope. And why? He’d discovered himself genuinely in love with her. Yes, he’d been duped and he’d been angry, but that anger was not directed at Thea and it had given way to relief that Thea in fact was not at death’s door; that she was a vibrant, healthy
young woman who made him realize life’s possibilities. Those had been his very words, in fact!
A knock on the door provided instant relief to the boredom of listening to her aunt’s heavy nasal breathing, and the rustling and odd muffled explosion muted by Aunt Minerva’s skirts.
Immediately Thea’s heart began to pound and she put her hand to her burning cheeks. Oh dear Lord, he’d come through like the hero he was! Mr Grayling had sent her a note!
“This was just delivered for you, Ma’am.” The little maid held out a silver salver, on which a neatly folded piece of parchment bore an elegant line of script.
Aunt Minerva was quick to pounce on it, slicing off the wax seal like a greedy child before scanning the contents, her hand cupping her breast as she turned it over and read it again. At this, she began to breathe even more heavily, fanning herself with the paper and shifting in her seat before bursting out, “Well, Thea, don’t you have some curiosity as to what might be contained in this missive?”
Thea lowered her eyes. “I was afraid you’d consider my curiosity impertinent but of course I wish nothing more than to know what has caused such agitation, Aunt Minerva.” She felt dead inside. So the note was for her aunt. Soon it would be bedtime and still Mr Grayling had not contacted her.
“I am not agitated, Thea, I am excited.” Aunt Minerva sighed loudly. “Aren’t you a girl forever misreading other people’s moods and intentions? There you were, thinking Mr Grayling was entranced enough with your pretty face to offer marriage even after I warned you a dozen times or more that a gentleman such as he needs a dowry. Well, he’s to marry Miss Huntingdon, if the gossips have their story right, and I’m sorry for it, Thea; that’s the truth, for I don’t know what’s to be done with you when you’re no longer living with me.”
Thea’s dismay at her aunt’s blithe comments regarding Mr Grayling’s marital intentions was superseded—though not eclipsed—by Aunt Minerva’s suggestion that there was a timeline in her offering Thea a roof over her head.
“What are you saying?” she gasped. “I’m no trouble, surely?” Truly, she’d not countenanced Aunt Minerva truly receiving a marriage offer. “You said I was the best nurse you’d had. You need me.” It was a bad tactic but Thea’s devastation at her own marital outlook was suddenly grievously exacerbated by the practicalities of where she might live if Aunt Minerva no longer offered her a roof. A whole day had passed since she’d seen Mr Grayling. Until this very minute, in fact, she’d held high hopes of a glorious outcome but now it appeared that not only was he was not offering her a home after all, Aunt Minerva was threatening to withdraw her support. She tried to breathe deeply as her aunt continued, placidly, “I like you well enough, my girl, but I don’t need you.”
Something died inside Thea. If her aunt no longer needed her, who did? What value was she to anyone? She might be hard working and pliable and, at the moment in her youthful prime, but without a penny to her name, she was not only worthless, but a complete encumbrance.
Her aunt read her message again and a broad grin lit up her face. She turned to Thea, lips pursed as if weighing up whether to divulge a great secret. Finally she leaned back in her chair and gave a great sigh. “So here is how matters stand. Mr Grayling is marrying Miss Huntingdon and you’ve received an offer from Dr Horne which you’ll be obliged to accept since I really can’t see that Mr Granville will wish to start married life with the responsibility of a flighty chit like you under our roof.”
“Mr Granville’s asked you to marry him?!”
Her aunt sent Thea a warning look. “No need to sound so shocked. And no, the offer has not been put in so many words, however he has intimated as much. First there was his enigmatic presence at the masquerade, designed to whip up my pique, and now this, his suggestion of an assignation.” She tapped the piece of parchment and looked smug. “When shall we invite Dr Horne to tea so you may put an end to his waiting? Really, the poor man is getting quite impatient. He was attending to me earlier when you were out and was quite plaintive about his concerns. I told him you were selecting your trousseau, for really, he was quite upset there was a chance you might refuse him.”
“You had no right to tell him a lie!”
“Well, Thea, you can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity. I was doing you a favour. The truth is, I’ve spent the past twenty years regretting the opportunity I turned down through my poor timing in rejecting Mr Granville.” Aunt Minerva folded the parchment and tucked it between her ample breasts. “Perhaps you can give Mr Horne your acceptance just before we go to the celebration for little George tomorrow. I shall request the good doctor come to my apartments to massage my legs, as I fancy I may have a little walking to do.” She clicked her tongue. “Goodness! Your cousin and her propensity for staging events outdoors that require a body to move will be the death of me. And did you know that Lady Quamby has insisted on the novelty of having a hot-air balloon? I can’t imagine a more ridiculous notion than rising above the earth in a basket.” She leaned forward, offering Thea a confronting view of her impressive bosom. “Did you know I once was forced to jump onto a footstool when a mouse ran across the room?” She leaned back with a self satisfied smile. “Well, that’s as high as I’m prepared to go to save my life. Hot-air balloons? That’s for adventurers who care nothing other than making the general public ooh and aah at their daring. Transient celebrity and nothing more! Now, how about a game of chequers?”
Chapter 21
AT last the day had arrived: the moment the child of a lowly Brightwell was officially acknowledged by the rest of the world as the heir to an earl.
Antoinette linked arms with her sister as they stood on the balcony and gazed at the enormous, colourful hot-air balloon that was slowly being inflated at the bottom of the grassy slope.
“Hasn’t it all worked out so well?” She gave a happy sigh and dabbed at her eyes with a piece of lawn. “Who’d have thought I’d give birth to a little chap destined for such greatness? Quamby is over the moon to have the heir he thought he would never have. I overheard him promising his special friend of the moment, Francis Rind, that he’d take him on a journey to the moon to visit his heart’s desire in that horrible looking hot-air balloon.”
“To the moon? Well, I’m glad they’re happy. And I’m glad you’re happy.” On one level she shared Antoinette’s satisfaction that the two of them had done so well in the marriage stakes—she, through cunning and careful orchestration, and Antoinette through pure luck. She sighed. “I’m sorry we failed Thea.”
“Yes, the poor darling. We gave them every opportunity, though, didn’t we?” Antoinette squinted at the busy scene that accompanied the erection of the balloon. Tiny figures seemed to be scurrying everywhere, securing ropes to the basket while the canopy slowly grew, soon becoming enormous. Antoinette’s tone changed from wistful to despairing as she turned back to her sister. “But even when Thea and Mr Grayling were pushed together in the coach and finally declared their true feelings and realised they each loved one another, it appears by his silence that Mr Grayling simply couldn’t accept that they’d be happy without money, and I’m afraid I do agree with him. I just wish Thea didn’t feel she has no option but to marry Dr Horne.”
