Jane Lark - The Reckless Love of an Heir - An epic historical romance perfect for fans of period drama Victoria

Alethea stood in the hall below, already wearing her bonnet, but she was not looking up to chase Susan into hurrying, but looking down at a letter.

“What is it?” Susan called.

“It is from Sarah,” Alethea looked up and met Susan’s gaze. “We cannot go. She says Henry intends to remain in his rooms and so he said it would be a waste of time for me to come.”

“Why?”

“He is feeling too ill, he does not wish to dress, but merely lay abed and rest his shoulder.”

“He did look pale yesterday.”

“I know. I felt so sorry for him. I would sit by his bed and keep him company but I suppose it is not the thing is it?”

“And if he has taken laudanum he will probably wish to sleep.”

“I suppose.”

But Susan had been looking forward to going over to Farnborough to continue her painting and the carriage had already been called.

“Mama!” Alethea called across the hall when their mother appeared from the drawing room. “We cannot go. Henry is feeling too unwell.”

“But I would like to go to paint, Mama.” Susan said as she stepped from the bottom stair. “Do you think I might? I was looking forward to painting again today and Uncle Robert said he did not mind my using the library at all for a whole fortnight.”

Her mother smiled. “If you wish to go, Susan, there will be no harm in it I am sure.”

Susan looked at Alethea, awaiting an offer to accompany her… There was still Sarah and Christine to visit, and after all Susan had only begun her painting project to accompany Alethea.

Alethea turned away and walked towards the drawing room, with Sarah’s letter held tightly in her hand.

Susan looked at her mother. Her mother was very like Alethea in temperament and she always gravitated towards her most exuberant daughter. She turned to Alethea, lifting a comforting arm to offer reassurance. “Alethea. Dear. I am sure he will be well enough to see you again soon.”

Susan loved her mother dearly but they had never understood one another particularly. Susan was more like her father in nature.

She turned to their butler. “Dodds, do not send the carriage away, I will be going but will you call for a maid.”

Dodds bowed slightly. “Shall I help you with your cloak, Miss.” He held out a hand.

She passed it over as her mother’s and Alethea’s conversation grew more distant.

She put on her bonnet and tied the ribbons, then turned so that he could set her cloak across her shoulders. She secured it herself while Dodds opened the door for her.

“Susan…” Her father entered the hall from a door leading out to the rear of the house and the stables. “Where is Alethea, is she not ready? I would have thought she’d be galloping with excitement to call on Henry.”

“He is too unwell for callers. I am going so I may continue to paint.”

His bushy white, eyebrows lifted, and the ends of his waxed moustache twitched. “Alone?”

“It is only to Uncle Robert’s. It is only a couple of miles and I am taking a maid.”

His forehead furrowed while he considered the idea.

Susan held her breath.

“And Susan is responsible enough to manage herself, Casper, let her go it will do no harm.” Susan looked at her mother who had come back out of the drawing room and stood just before the open door.

Only days before her mother had been afraid of highway men, obviously Susan’s responsible nature would frighten them away. Or perhaps it was the ridiculous anomaly she presented. She heard the words in Henry’s voice.

Her hand lifted and her fingers slid her spectacles farther up her nose.

Her father looked at her. “Very well, you may go.”

“Thank you, Papa.” She walked over and wrapped her arms about his neck.

His arms came about her, knocking her bonnet loose, so it tumbled off her head and rolled down to hang from the ribbons about her neck.

“Enjoy your day,” he said into her ear.

“I shall immensely.” They let each other go. “And at the end of the fortnight I shall show you my endeavours. I am quite pleased with myself.”

“Bless you.” His fingertips touched her cheek.

She turned away, without putting her bonnet back on, and walked out through the open door. Dodds was standing outside, speaking with one of the footmen. She had a sense that he had bestowed a warning for the men escorting her to take greater care as she travelled alone with only a maid to guard her reputation. The maid had already taken her place on the seat beside the coachman.

She smiled at Dodds when he opened the door of the carriage, accepted his hand and climbed up.

Within the carriage she righted her bonnet as Dodds shut the door. Then they were away.

She had not travelled in the carriage alone before.

Her heart pulsed quickly as she stared out of the window watching the passing view around the brim of her bonnet.

The tall remains of the walls of the ruined abbey in Farnborough’s grounds peaked above the trees in the distance. The Abbey marked the border of Uncle Robert’s land and Henry’s cousin’s, Rob’s, property. She had known Rob since her childhood too, his father was also a friend of her father’s.

She had always liked Rob. He was quieter than Henry and he’d never been self-obsessed. She liked Rob’s wife too. Caro was also quiet, and friendly, though, she shied away from crowds and strangers. They therefore never attended the local balls but Susan saw them frequently at her parents’ and Aunt Jane’s dinner parties.

The road followed a wall which surrounded Uncle Robert’s estate. The wall stretched for miles, but they were not following it all. It broke at the main gateway and the carriage turned to pass between the open iron gates and the giant lion statues guarding the entrance.

The carriage slowed when the gatekeeper came out of his lodge, but he looked at her father’s emblem on the side and waved them on.

The drive to the house from the gate seemed nearly as long as the journey had been from her home. But it was pretty this time of year, with the huge horse chestnut trees covered in white flowers.

Excitement gathered inside her when she neared the house.

Her new project was stimulating, she had never been very good at idleness, and embroidery and sewing were really not her calling. As the carriage passed beneath the arch into the courtyard, she smiled at herself when her reflection appeared in the glass for a moment. Perhaps she was like Alethea in some ways; she had just admitted she was no good at being idle. Perhaps in her, her mother’s and Alethea’s enthusiasm and constant hurrying and need for activity, was exposed in a desire for an active mind.

Uncle Robert walked out of the house surrounded by three of the dogs. Not Samson.

He stopped and stood still as the carriage turned and drew to a halt then he came forward and opened the door. “I thought Henry had sent word to say do not come.” He looked beyond Susan, clearly seeking Alethea, but then he held out his hand to Susan to aid her descent as the dogs barked their greeting. Once he’d let go of Susan, Uncle Robert silenced them with a lifted hand. They continued to wave their tails.