Anne Herries - Regency - Mischief & Marriage - Secret Heiress / Bartered Bride

‘Yes, I dare say it may be,’ Betty said and smiled at her pleasure. ‘It is time something good happened for you, my love.’

‘I consider myself fortunate to have such friends as you and Ted,’ Eliza said and went through to the parlour to write her letter. When she had finished it, she put on her pelisse and bonnet and set out for the earl’s estate office.

***

The Marquis of Cheadle frowned over Lady Sarah’s letter. He had recognised the handwriting instantly and for a few heart-catching moments he had thought she wanted him to visit her again—that she might have changed her mind and be ready to take the first step towards going away with him. It was a ridiculous notion, but one that had taken root in his mind since he visited her. The idea was impossible, of course, for he had his daughter’s future to think of and that must take precedence over his own desires.

Cheadle had lived by his own rules. He was capable of being ruthless, though not actually the rogue some believed. For many years he had suppressed the ache that had never quite gone away, filled his empty life with gambling and high living, but recently the need for something more had overtaken him. He glanced at the letter again before slipping it into the top drawer of his desk as the door opened and his wife entered.

‘Yes, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘Was there something I may do for you?’

‘I wanted to make sure you would accompany us to Bath next week,’ Lady Cheadle replied, her mouth twisted sourly. ‘Accrington hasn’t come up to scratch and I think Marianne is moping. As you know, I had hopes that he would follow us from London, but he has not obliged. I have arranged to visit Bath; we may meet with better fortune there—but I wish you to come with us, at least for the first few days.’

‘Bath…’ The marquis frowned. ‘I had thought to return to London. I am not sure you should rush off to Bath in a hurry, Lady Cheadle. We are in no hurry to push Marianne off. If Accrington needs more time to consider, he must have it. I think he was sufficiently struck to make an offer, but his is an old name and family. He will want to discuss things with his family and his lawyers.’

He reached for the ring he habitually wore and felt its absence as he remembered it was lost, at least for now, given as promise of payment to Daniel Seaton. He would not wear another one, for the ring held memories that could not be replaced by another bauble. He frowned as he thought of the man, of whom he had seen nothing since that evening in town. Seaton might well sell the ring for he was entitled to and he could bear no love for a man who had won ten thousand from his father. Lord Seaton had been drunk. Cheadle had warned him to give up, but he had haughtily refused and the result was predictable. Yet Cheadle had a nagging conscience over it, for he had known the older man was too far gone to realise what he was about.

It was with an effort that he brought his mind back to what his wife was saying.

‘I am determined to go. If Accrington thinks he may lose her, it should bring him to the point sooner rather than later. Have I your assurance that you will accompany us?’

Cheadle narrowed his gaze. ‘Very well, madam. Have it your way. A few days here or there is nothing to me.’

‘I shall miss you,’ the earl said and sighed heavily. ‘Having you here has been a comfort to me, Daniel.’

‘I shall be sorry to leave you,’ Daniel replied. ‘However, there is estate business that takes me home.’

He also had the business of an agent to employ, and had arranged to meet the man in Norwich. He had decided to take up his uncle’s cause to find out the truth about Marcus’s death, and so had decided to stay with the earl whilst he put things in motion. It had taken a few days for the exchange of letters, because the man he had chosen was a Bow Street Runner and well recommended. Daniel knew that if his chosen investigator got a scent of something he would go for it like a terrier after a rat and he was eager for the man to begin his work.

After leaving his uncle, Daniel rode through the village. He saw the young woman who had been in his thoughts too often of late. She was standing outside the haberdashers, looking into the window, and an older woman was with her. They seemed to be intent on looking at some materials on display.

Daniel tipped his hat to her and slowed his horse to a standstill.

‘Good morning, Miss Bancroft. How are you?’

‘I am well, sir,’ she said. ‘I have had good news—I have been offered employment with a lady.’

‘Most generous terms they are, too,’ her companion said. ‘I wouldn’t part with my Eliza for the world, but she may get the chance to mix with quality, and that must be good for her.’

‘Good day to you both,’ Daniel said. ‘I must get on, for I have an appointment.’

He rode on by, conscious of the fact that something tugged at him and made him want to turn his head. Yet he conquered the need. He admired the young lady but at the moment he had more weighty matters on his mind than dalliance.

‘Are you sure you have all you need? Enough money to come back if the carriage isn’t there to meet you?’ Betty asked, looking at Eliza anxiously. ‘I’ve packed you some food for the journey, love.’

‘Thank you. I have all I need,’ Eliza said and hugged her again. She felt very emotional now the time to part had arrived, and her throat was tight. ‘You will answer my letters?’

‘You know I can’t write much,’ Betty replied. ‘My Ted will read yours to me and he’ll write what I want to say—but you are to write as soon as you get there and let us know you are safe and happy. If there is anything you need… anything you don’t like… you are to come back to us on the next mail coach. You have a home with us for as long as you like.’

‘Thank you, my dearest friend,’ Eliza said, tears springing to her eyes. She held them back because if she cried Betty would, too. ‘I have been so blessed in my friends. I shall write to you as soon as I can, but I am sure I shall do perfectly well. Lady Sarah sent me a guinea by special post for the journey after she got my letter. Was that not kind of her?’

‘I’m glad we made you that new travelling gown and pelisse,’ Betty said. ‘You look a proper young lady and that is only right for you will be mixing in company, I dare say.’

‘I think we may live very quietly. Lady Sarah said that she is a widow and her health is sometimes poor. I do not expect to go anywhere much, except perhaps to the Pump Room.’

‘The waters are supposed to be good for anyone sickly,’ Betty said. ‘Well, always remember you can come home if you’re unhappy, my love.’

‘Yes, I shall. I had better go, Betty. Ted is ready with the dogcart. I must not keep him waiting; I think he has business in Norwich.’

‘Off you go then, Eliza. Have a good time and be as happy as you can.’

Eliza went out to where her friend’s husband sat patiently waiting for them to say their goodbyes. The young groom came to help her in, grinned at her and stood back as Ted whipped up his horse.

‘She looks a proper treat,’ he remarked to Betty as they drove off. ‘Anyone would think she were quality.’

‘Well, she is and better than most,’ Betty said. ‘Thanks for your help with the trunk but you had better get off now or they will be looking for you at the stables.’

‘Yeah. Ain’t got a piece of yer gingerbread, ‘ave yer?’

‘I might have,’ Betty said and smiled. ‘Come into the kitchen and I’ll see what I can find.’

She cast one last regretful glance at the dogcart and went back into the cottage.

‘Well, here we are then, Eliza,’ Ted Wright said as he pulled the cart to a halt in the busy market square. He glanced round and nodded as he saw the carriage waiting close by the clock tower. The driver seemed to be looking about, as if expecting someone. ‘I’ll just go and ask if that’s the transport for Miss Eliza Bancroft.’