Pride in Regency Society

When Eve joined Sir Benjamin in the morning room some time later, he held out his hand to her. ‘Rooney told me Nick has been called away, my love. That is a great pity. But it means I have you to myself again.’

She smiled as she grasped his outstretched fingers. ‘Indeed you do, Grandpapa.’

‘And are you happy with the husband I have found for you, my love?’

She smiled down at him. ‘Can you doubt it, sir?’

‘No, love. You have been glowing with happiness these past few weeks.’ Sir Benjamin sighed. ‘But we shall miss him. He is a very lively fellow, Nick Wylder—Wyldfire, they called him, when he was at sea.’ He chuckled. ‘He certainly sets the house alight with his energy! And he has entertained us royally, has he not, my dear?’

‘Yes, sir, and while he is gone we must entertain each other,’ said Eve bracingly. ‘It is a beautiful day, Grandpapa, will you not take a stroll with me through the garden? I should like you to see the flowerbeds; the roses are particularly fragrant just now. Rooney will give you his arm…’

‘I think not, my love. My legs do not feel so very strong today.’

‘Then let me bring the backgammon board into the morning room. I know Nick’s skill is superior to mine, but I can acquit myself creditably, I think.’

Sir Benjamin patted her hand. ‘Not just now, Evelina. I am very tired. I think I should like to rest here quietly in the sunshine for a little while.’

‘Of course, Grandpapa.’ She bent to kiss his cheek. ‘There is plenty for me to do. I fear I have neglected my household duties recently.’

Poor Grandpapa, she thought as she went out. He will miss Nick almost as much as I do.

Evelina kept herself busy. She threw herself back into the life of Makerham, for she was still its mistress, and would remain so until Nick came back and carried her away to run his own houses in the north. During the long, lonely nights in the big tester bed she stifled her longings with thoughts of her new life so far from the only home she had ever known. She would be sad to leave Grandpapa, of course, but the thought of moving away did not frighten her: with Nick at her side she knew she need not fear anything.

A week had gone by and there was no letter from Nick, only a hastily scribbled note, telling her that if she had need of him she could leave word at the Ship in Hastings. Eve was philosophical about this; her grandfather had been a very poor correspondent when she had been at school, sometimes a month would pass without a letter and then when it came it would be little more than a few lines dashed off in haste. She folded Nick’s note and placed it under her pillow; she would not worry. Besides, she had a much more pressing concern. Sir Benjamin’s health was failing rapidly. She sent for the doctor, and came hurrying downstairs to meet him as soon as he arrived.

‘Thank you for coming so promptly, Dr Scott.’

‘It is no trouble at all, Miss Eve—I mean, Mrs Wylder,’ responded the doctor, a twinkle in his kind eyes. ‘Now tell me, what is the matter with my patient? Is it his legs again?’

Eve nodded. ‘He is complaining of pains in his chest, too. Since the wedding he has not been out of the house,’ she said as she escorted him up to her grandfather’s room. ‘I thought at first he was a little tired from all the celebrations, but this past week he has kept to his bed. And he is eating so little.’

‘Well, take me to him, Mrs Wylder, and I’ll see what I can do.’

Eve was busy arranging a bowl of roses in the great hall when the doctor came in search of her.

‘I thought I would take these up to Grandpapa,’ she said, as he descended the stairs. ‘He is so fond of flowers and the perfume from these is delightful.’ Her smile faltered as she looked at him. ‘It is not good news, I fear, Dr Scott.’

‘You must remember he is an old man,’ said the doctor gently. ‘And a very sick one.’

‘I do,’ she murmured. ‘I am very grateful that he has been with me for so long…’

‘I have often thought that he was determined to keep going for your sake. Now that you are married—’

‘Oh, pray do not say that!’ cried Eve, distressed.

‘No, well, perhaps not.’ Dr Scott patted her shoulder. ‘Go to him, my dear. Take him your flowers. I will call again tomorrow.’

‘Grandpapa, I have brought you some roses. Since you cannot go to the garden, the garden must come to you. I shall put them here, near the window where you can see them. There, are they not beautiful?’

Sir Benjamin smiled a little. He was propped up on a bank of plump pillows, but his eyes were shut. He looked gaunt and grey and very frail in his nightcap and gown.

Eve went over to the bed and took his hand. ‘Will you not look at the roses, Grandfather?’

His eyes opened a fraction. ‘Very pretty,’ he murmured. ‘You must excuse me, my love. I cannot seem to get my breath.’

‘Then do not waste it on words,’ she whispered. ‘I shall sit here beside you: we need not talk.’

By the time Dr Scott returned the next morning it was all over. Evelina met him with a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes, she knew, were red and swollen from crying, but she made no excuses.

‘Oh, my dear.’ He took her hands.

Evelina lifted her head a little higher. ‘It was very peaceful,’ she said. ‘Rooney and I were with him.’

‘I’m glad, the two people who loved him most in the world. He would like that. But what will you do now? You should not be here alone.’

‘Why not? I am accustomed to that.’

‘But not in these circumstances. There are arrangements to be made,’ said Dr Scott. ‘The funeral, for instance…’

‘I shall instruct Grandpapa’s lawyers today; they will know what is to be done. And I shall write to my husband.’ A new burst of sadness clogged her throat making it difficult to speak. She missed Nick so badly. ‘He is away for the moment.’

‘Then I wish him God speed to return to you, Mrs Wylder.’

Evelina wished it, too, but she could not allow Nick’s continued absence to fill her thoughts, there was too much to do. Letters had to be written, lawyers consulted and funeral arrangements to be put in place. Evelina left the running of Makerham to Mrs Harding while she busied herself with the rituals of bereavement. She sent off her note express to Hastings and wondered how soon she could expect a reply.

Two days later she was in one of the attic rooms, searching through trunks of her mother’s clothes for anything that might be altered and used as a mourning gown when from the open window she heard the sounds of a carriage on the drive. Her heart began to thud painfully at the thought that Nick had returned. She hurtled down the stairs, arriving in the great hall just as the door opened.

‘Oh I knew you would come! I—’

She broke off, fighting back a wave of anger and disappointment when she saw Bernard Shawcross stepping through the doorway.

‘I am delighted to think I have not disappointed you, Cousin,’ he said smoothly. As he straightened from his bow he put his hand to his neck. ‘You see, I have adopted a black cravat. Thought it fitting.’

‘Y-yes, thank you,’ she stammered. ‘You received my letter.’

He inclined his head. ‘I came immediately. I thought you would need me. This is a very distressing time for you. You have my deepest sympathy, dear Cousin. Such a shock for you.’

‘Shock? No…no. Grandpapa’s health has been of concern for some time. That is why we did not remove to my husband’s home in the north country. But you must think me very rag-mannered. Pray sit down, Bernard; you must be wondering why Captain Wylder is not here to greet you. He is away, you see. On business.’

‘Ah.’ His close-set eyes under their heavy brows were fixed upon her. ‘So you have not heard from him?’

‘N-no, not yet. It is my hope that he is even now on his way to Makerham.’

Bernard’s mouth stretched into a smile. ‘Let us hope so, indeed. But in the meantime I am here to support you. If you would ask Mrs Harding to prepare a room for me…’ He waved one hand. ‘I know, by rights it should be the master’s room, but perhaps it is a little soon.’

She knew a little spurt of anger at his presumption. ‘Far too soon,’ she retorted. ‘Grandfather’s bedchamber is still as he left it—’ She broke off, gathered herself and said more calmly, ‘One of the guest rooms shall be prepared for you.’

Eve was glad of the excuse to leave her cousin and she hurried away to consult the housekeeper. Mrs Harding’s reaction to his arrival was typically forthright.

‘So he’s turned up, has he? Like a bad penny, that one.’

‘He is the master here now, Mrs Harding,’ Eve reminded her gently. She ignored the housekeeper’s scornful look. ‘I must clear Grandpapa’s room for him, but not yet.’

‘No of course not yet, Miss Eve! Why, the master ain’t even in his grave. We’ll strip the room out completely after the funeral, miss, and we’ll do it together. It’s not a job for a young lady to take on alone.’

‘And…’ Eve bit her lip ‘…and will you join us for dinner, Mrs Harding?’ She could not explain her uneasiness, but the older woman nodded immediately.

‘Of course, miss, and I’ll be in the drawing room of an evening, too. You shouldn’t be left alone with that man.’

‘Oh, I am sure there is nothing…’

‘You cannot be sure of anything with that one,’ retorted Mrs Harding grimly. ‘He’s trouble, you mark my words. I just wish the captain was here, he would know how to look after you.’

Eve forced a smile. How easily the staff had taken to Nick.

‘Perhaps we shall have news of him tomorrow.’

Chapter Six

It was not until the day of Sir Benjamin’s funeral that they received word of Nick and when it came, the news was shattering. Evelina was in the morning room with her cousin, waiting for the carriage to take them to Makerham church when Green announced that Captain Wylder’s valet had arrived and wished to speak to her.

‘At last!’ She gave a brief look of apology to her cousin as she hurried away to the great hall where Richard Granby was waiting for her.

‘Well,’ she greeted him, ‘what news have you from your master?’ She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and knew a moment’s irritation that her cousin should follow her, but it was forgotten as she observed the grave look upon Granby’s face. ‘What is it?’ she said sharply. ‘Tell me.’

‘There has been an…accident, ma’am.’

Evelina stared at him. Bernard put his arm about her and guided her to a chair.

‘You had best sit down, Cousin,’ he murmured.

She kept her eyes fixed upon the valet. ‘An accident? Is he badly hurt?’

Granby shifted uncomfortably and Eve put her hands to her cheeks as a shocking idea forced its way into her head.

‘Not—?’

Bernard’s hand clenched on her shoulder. ‘Is he dead?’ he said harshly. ‘Out with it, man.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Eve could only stare at him. The world was shifting, unbalanced. She was having difficulty thinking. She heard Bernard asking what had happened and tried to concentrate upon Granby’s answer.

‘Drowned. Fell overboard from the yacht. On Saturday last.’

‘Perhaps he survived,’ suggested Bernard. ‘Might there not be some hope?’

Granby shook his head. ‘No sir. They were somewhere beyond the Rocks of Nore, too far out for an injured man to swim. But we did check the beaches…’

‘Yacht?’ Eve frowned. ‘But he went to Hastings on business. What was he doing on a yacht?’

Granby looked even more uncomfortable.

Bernard patted Eve’s shoulder. ‘There will be time for such questions later, my dear. For now I think you should lie down.’ His calm assumption of authority put new spirit into Eve.

Impatiently she shook off his hand. ‘I have no intention of lying down. I am not ill, Cousin, and I shall not fall into hysterics because my husband is—’ She could not bring herself to say the word. She knew her composure could shatter at any moment and she would not let that happen. She must stay strong. Eve took a deep, steadying breath. ‘You must have ridden half the night to reach here so early, Mr Granby. Thank you for that. I suggest you rest now.’

‘Yes, ma’am. I am very sorry, Mrs Wylder.’

‘Mrs Wylder,’ she murmured. ‘No one calls me that here.’ She looked up. ‘One more thing, Mr Granby. My husband’s body…?’

The valet hesitated. He avoided her eyes as he murmured, ‘Lost, ma’am.’

‘It might still be recovered,’ put in Bernard.

‘The news was spread along the coast.’ Granby nodded. ‘They have promised to send word if he is…found.’

‘They?’ said Bernard. ‘Who would that be?’

‘The master’s business acquaintances.’

In spite of the numbness that had settled over her, Eve almost smiled. The valet’s haughty tone and the look that accompanied his words said very clearly that Nick Wylder’s business was his own affair, certainly not to be shared with Bernard Shawcross. She rose.

‘We will talk later, Mr Granby.’ She turned to her cousin, ‘Perhaps you would escort me to the carriage, Bernard.’

‘My dear cousin, it is not necessary—indeed, it is not usual—for females to attend a funeral.’ Eve stared at him and he continued gently, ‘I have no doubt you would prefer to go to your room. Shall I send your maid to you?’

‘No, Cousin. I will go to the church. I need to be active.’

‘But surely—’

She put up a hand. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely under control. ‘I wish, Cousin, you would stop trying to order my life. I shall go on much better if I am allowed to keep busy. Please let me have my way in this.’

‘My dear Evelina, I am head of the family now—’

Granby coughed. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but Mrs Wylder is part of Lord Darrington’s family now.’

Eve felt a flicker of gratitude for Richard Granby. Bernard scowled, but as he opened his mouth to retort she forestalled him.

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Granby. That is all for now. You may go.’ She reached up to her bonnet and pulled the veil down over her face. ‘Cousin, our carriage is at the door.’

Sir Benjamin had been an important figure in Makerham and the little village church was packed with those wishing to pay their last respects. The sight of Evelina in her flowing black robes and leaning heavily on her cousin’s arm caused more than one stolid parishioner to blink away a tear. When the coffin was carried out of the church and Miss Shawcross fainted clean away, there were many that said it was a blessing she should be spared the sight of her beloved grandfather’s body being consigned to the earth.

Martha accompanied her mistress back to the house and half-carried her up to her room, but it was not until her maid had tucked her up in her bed and departed that Eve allowed her pent-up grief to spill over. Tears burned her eyes and huge, gasping sobs racked her body as she mourned for the loss of her grandfather and her husband. She curled herself into a ball and sank her teeth into her fist to prevent herself screaming with rage and grief and pain. Sir Benjamin’s death had long been anticipated, but Nick’s loss was unbearable; she was not prepared for the agony and in some strange way she felt betrayed. He had ridden into her life and she had tumbled headlong into love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and now he was gone, as quickly as he had come. She dragged the covers over her head and allowed the tears to fall, crying for her grandfather, for Nick, for herself. Finally, as exhaustion set in, she buried her face in her damp pillow, praying that the expensive feather-and-down filling would deprive her lungs of air and suffocate her.

When Eve awoke to the grey dawn, her first conscious thought was disappointment. Disappointment that she was still alive. The silence in the house told her it was very early. She threw back the covers and crawled out of bed; there was a heaviness to her limbs that made every movement a struggle. She dragged herself over to the window and looked out. The garden was grey and colourless in the half-light. Very fitting, she thought. A house in mourning. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to make sense of her grief. She had been prepared to lose her grandfather; they had said their goodbyes and she was comforted by the thought that he was no longer suffering from pain or ill-health. She was saddened by his death, but not bereft. But Nick—Nick with his dazzling smile and laughing blue eyes. He had ridden into her sheltered world and given her a glimpse of a much more exciting one. She had known him for such a short time, but now she missed him so much it was a physical pain inside her.

She gazed out at the horizon, where a watery sun was climbing through the clouds. Soon the house would be awake and Martha would come in with her hot chocolate. Life would go on and she was expected to do her duty. With a sigh she turned away from the window. The day stretched interminably before her. She had no idea how she would bear this misery.

Her fairy-tale had turned to a nightmare.

‘Ah, Cousin, here you are.’

Evelina schooled her features as Bernard Shawcross came into the morning room. To smile at him was impossible, but she must not glower.

‘So I have found you alone at last.’ He laughed gently. ‘I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’

And with good reason, thought Eve. Aloud, she said, ‘I have been very busy. Since the funeral there have been so many visitors wishing to offer their condolences, then there are all the legal matters to attend to as well as the household duties to be done…’

‘At least with that I may assist you,’ he said, sitting down near her. ‘After all, Makerham is my home now, so I can remove that worry from your pretty shoulders.’

She repressed a shudder. ‘Makerham was never a worry, Cousin,’ she replied coolly.

‘Green tells me that you have been closeted with your lawyer this morning. Is there any news of your husband?’

She shook her head. ‘Mr Didcot urges caution. Without a—’ she swallowed hard ‘—without a b-body he is loathe to pronounce me a widow. Both he and Granby advise me to go to Yorkshire and place myself under the protection of my husband’s family.’

‘Yorkshire is a wild, uncivilised country, Cousin. You would not like it.’

She raised her brows. ‘You cannot call York and Harrogate uncivilised. Really, Bernard, you are quite Gothic at times.’

‘Perhaps, but you have always lived in the south, always at Makerham. We are the last of the Shawcross family, Cousin. It is only right that I should want to take care of you.’

He reached out as he spoke and put his hand on her knee. Eve froze.

‘Please, Cousin. I am a married woman.’

‘You are a widow, my dear.’

‘You are very certain of that.’

‘I would not have you keep false hopes alive.’ The hand on her knee tightened. ‘And now that you have experienced a man’s touch—’

She jumped up. ‘Pray stop. It is far too soon for such a conversation, Bernard! Please, excuse me!’

She turned away but his hand shot out and caught her arm.

‘Think, Evelina. What do you know of Wylder’s family? You must not go north. You would be far from everything you have ever known, ever loved. Consider what I can offer you.’ He was standing behind her now, his breath hot on her neck. ‘He was a hellraiser, that husband of yours. Did you know that? Did you think you could reform him? Impossible, madam: you cannot tame a tiger, only cage him. If he was truly changed, how could he leave you so soon after your marriage?’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she protested. ‘I shall not listen to you!’

‘But you must! He tricked you, Eve. He never really loved you. Had he done so, he could not have left you. How could any man leave you?’ He pulled her back against him and murmured in her ear, ‘You love Makerham, and you need never leave it. You can stay here, run it as you have always done. We will marry, of course, as soon as that is possible, but until then, we can be…discreet.’

Eve fought down her growing panic. His grip on her arms was like iron, biting into her flesh. She knew she could not free herself by force. She must stay calm if she was to escape. She said in a low voice, ‘Please, Cousin. This is all so, so unexpected. My thoughts are in turmoil.’

‘Of course. I should not have spoken yet.’ She felt his lips on the back of her neck. ‘Off you go, my dear. We will talk more of this later.’

Eve forced herself to walk slowly out of the room, her back rigid with fear, as though there were some wild animal behind her, ready to pounce. As soon as she reached the hall she picked up her skirts and fled to her room, trying to blot out the memory of Bernard’s mouth upon her skin.

Eve changed her gown and at the dinner hour she made her way down to the drawing room with some trepidation. She was relieved to find only the housekeeper awaiting her. ‘Mrs Harding, I must get away from Makerham.’

‘Away from the new master, you mean.’

The blunt statement made Eve smile.

‘His intentions ar

e—ultimately—honourable.’

Mrs Harding gave a scornful laugh. ‘Aye. He’ll have to marry you if he is to get Monkhurst.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I heard him talking to Lawyer Didcot when he came to read the will.’ The housekeeper flushed slightly. ‘I needed to pick some rosemary from the bush outside the study window, so I couldn’t help but overhear, mistress. He questioned Mr Didcot very closely, he did, about who would get Monkhurst now you was married. Mr Didcot said of course he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the marriage settlement, but he could tell him that Monkhurst was secured on you and your heirs. Unless you died without issue,’ she continued, her brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Then of course it would go directly to your husband. It seems Bernard was hoping it might revert to the family, but as Lawyer Didcot explained to him, it belonged to your mama’s family, the Winghams, and was never part of the entail.’

‘But why should he want Monkhurst? The house has been shut up for years, since Mama died, in fact.’

Mrs Harding spread her hands. ‘Mayhap ’tis greed, Miss Eve. He wants everything.’

‘Well he shall not have it,’ declared Eve. ‘Any more than he shall have me!’

Mrs Harding put up her hand. ‘Hush now, dearie, I hear his step in the hall. And you need not look so anxious, I am not about to leave you alone with that man.’

The housekeeper was as good as her word, and after an uncomfortable dinner Eve made her excuses to retire to her room. There she was careful to make sure her door was locked securely. She crept into her bed and lay rigidly beneath the covers.

It was little more than a week since she had tried to cheat sleep and stay awake each night to think about Nick Wylder, to go over their conversations, relive their moments together. Since the news of Nick’s death, when her whole being ached for the oblivion of sleep, it would not come. But at least now, following Bernard’s sudden declaration, she could spend the long, sleepless night making her plans.

Early the next day she summoned Granby to the morning room, and when he came in she began without preamble. ‘Granby, I am leaving Makerham.’

‘Ah. We go to Yorkshire, ma’am?’

‘No. I plan to go to Monkhurst.’

‘Monkhurst! But, that’s impossible!’

‘It is very possible,’ she replied crisply. ‘The marriage settlement is quite clear; Monkhurst remains my own.’

‘But surely it would be better for you to be under the protection of the master’s family.’

‘No, why should it? My grandfather provided for me very well in his will, and Mr Didcot assures me that it will not be affected by my—my widowhood. I am dependent upon no one, Mr Granby.’

‘Of course, ma’am. But—’

‘My mind is made up.’

The valet stared at her, his usually impassive countenance betraying his consternation. ‘I pray you, mistress, reconsider. You said yourself Monkhurst has not been lived in for the past ten years! It—it could be derelict. Allow me to escort you to Yorkshire. You will be made very welcome, and—’