Mary Brendan - Regency High Society Vol 1 - A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

‘There is just one thing I must ask of you, Harriet,’ said his lordship with a very serious expression on his face.

‘Anything you wish, sir,’ she replied, uncomfortably aware of what his request was likely to be.

‘Please do not leave the house without a manservant—one that Lady Caroline has chosen personally. I do not wish to curtail your movements, but you must know that your safety is our prime concern. Quite apart from the fact that we have all grown to love you dearly, you must not forget that we have undertaken to deliver you to your grandfather undamaged!

Harriet nodded glumly, unable to dismiss from her mind the irritating thought that had she obeyed Sandford’s identical request she would not have found herself in this unenviable position.

Young Rothman waited outside Meggy Watts’s cottage, immensely proud that he had been chosen to accompany Miss Harriet on the visit. Being only third footman in the Beldale hierarchy, he knew that this was a singular gesture on his employer’s part and due entirely to the fact of his being the butler’s son.

The elder Rothman had served the Hurst family since his youth and had worked his way up from under-footman to the full prestigious office of butler. He had married one of the ladies’ maids and produced three sons, the older two of whom had secured positions in other large houses elsewhere. The strapping young Davy had elected to remain at Beldale, thus gaining the benefit of his father’s expert tuition.

He was aware that there was some sort of mystery surrounding Miss Harriet and had heard that she had somehow got herself lost in the copse the other day. Since then he had been appointed to attend her on all of her outings from Beldale, including those from which he derived the greatest pleasure, riding behind her just like a groom! The stable lads had been properly miffed at that, he thought cheerfully, but then her ladyship had wanted someone who could be presentable in both occupations and stable lads just weren’t cut out to be footmen.

He peered through the small window, satisfying himself that his charge had not been spirited away, and seated himself once more on the bench outside the cottage, casually wondering as to the purpose of Miss Harriet’s visit to the villager’s cottage.

Harriet herself was seated on the best chair in the little used parlour, Meggy having dashed around in a flurry after the young lady had requested a few words with her father, flinging open curtains and removing dust-covers from her few precious pieces. The cottager had dismissed Harriet’s request to remain in the kitchen, seldom having had such an opportunity to hold court in her own little palace. She had brought her unexpected visitor tea in a china cup and now sat gazing fondly at the sight of Harriet in deep conversation with her father.

Harriet had brought old Potter a gift. In the form of a small, opening booklet, such as was used for needles and pins, it held within its covers the withered rose petal she had rescued from the ruin of his old home. Protected from further ravages by the transparent veil of fine gauze she had stitched over it, the relic was bordered by intricate stitchery that proclaimed the legend ‘Joshua and Millicent, 10th August 1769'. On the front cover, depicted in delicate watercolours, was as faithful a representation of number 7, Bottom Meadow Cottages, as Harriet had been able to conjure up from her visits to the site and her further consultations with Rose, the old man’s granddaughter.

Josh held the little case reverently in the palms of his calloused and blistered hands and stared down at it with tears in his rheumy old eyes.

‘How did ‘ee find it, lass?’ he whispered, with a catch in his throat. I never thought to see it again. ‘I went up there the once but her …’ he jerked his head towards his daughter ‘ …her wouldn’t let me back.’

Meggy Watts came and stood by her father and lovingly stroked his shaggy head.

‘It were dangerous up there, Dad,’ she said. ‘The roof timbers is falling all along the row and some of them kitchen flagstones have dropped right down into the cellars. You’ve had one very lucky escape—we don’t want no more such accidents, now do we?’

She was studying Harriet’s workmanship with admiration.

‘It’s such a true likeness. But how did you know all this, Miss Cordell?’

‘Reverend Taylor furnished me with the details of your parents’ wedding day from his parish records,’ said Harriet, enormously gratified that her efforts had been awarded such a reception. ‘And your own daughter Rose corrected some errors I had made in the painting.’

Turning to Joshua, she laid her hand on his arm. ‘I know what it’s like to lose treasured possessions, Mr Potter,’ she told him. ‘My family travelled across Spain in the war years and we had to leave our chattels behind on many occasions—and other times they were destroyed almost in front of our eyes. Your sweetest memories—the ones you keep inside your heart—will never die, I am certain, but sometimes a more tangible memento is needed and I hope that this little token might, in some small way, help you to recover from your dreadful loss.’

‘You couldn’t have brought me anything in the world that would have pleased me more, miss,’ said Josh, slipping the little case into the breast pocket of his shabby old jacket and patting it gently. ‘It’ll be like having my own dear Milly with me again and I can take it out and look at it whenever I choose! ‘Twere part of her bridal nosegay, you see.’

His faded blue eyes twinkled at Harriet from under his bushy brows and he patted the hand that was still holding his own.

‘You’m going to make a fine countess when your time comes, miss,’ he said, nodding his head at her. ‘We should’ve known that when his lordship finally made his choice his lady would be worth the wait—and, begging your pardon, miss, we all think he’s struck gold!’

‘Dad! Really!’ Meggy was shocked. ‘Excuse him, Miss Cordell—he goes too far, sometimes. Honestly, Dad—what will the lady think of us all!’

Shaking her head, Harriet rose to her feet. ‘It’s to be hoped that a good many years pass before that day dawns, sir,’ she said, picking up her reticule. ‘And if I could grow to be only half as good as Lady Caroline I should think myself perfect!’

Meggy showed her to the door and Davy Rothman sprang to attention at their appearance, fingering the neck of his smart, new livery nervously.

‘Well, hello, Davy,’ Meggy greeted him cheerfully. ‘My, aren’t you the swell, these days?’

Davy inclined his head gravely towards her, feeling slightly awkward at having to address Rose’s mother in such a formal way but, at the same time, anxious to impress Miss Harriet with his impeccable manners.

Meggy, too, knew her place and expected no more from him. She bobbed respectfully to Harriet and, on behalf of her father, thanked her once again for her generosity and time.

Walking through the village, with Davy the requisite two steps behind her, Harriet found, to her great discomfort, that she was having to acknowledge bobs and curtsies from all sides as she passed. This entire charade is getting completely out of hand, she thought crossly, but managed to smile as yet another tradesman tipped his hat to her. All of these good people actually thought that she would, one day, be their ‘Lady of the Manor’ and it was all terribly embarrassing and, she had to admit, inexplicably quite painful to her.