Earl of Bergen: Wicked Regency Romace (Wicked Earls' Club Book 15) Page 4

  “We practice every other day until the pageant—starting tomorrow. “That will give us four rehearsals,” Elizabeth responded, smiling sweetly.

  Bergen and the two women made their way into the hall, where the butler had his coat, gloves and hat ready. “I should make arrangements.” He sketched a bow and the butler opened the door. “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

  Elizabeth smiled with genuine amusement. “It appears that way, my lord. We will have dinner at five o’clock and then leave for the church afterwards. You are more than welcome to join us for dinner.”

  When Bergen returned to the inn, he found his room was still available. Before he settled down for the night, he wrote his aunt a quick missive and gave it to Perry to post for him in the morning. He decided to have a night-cap and took a glass of ale upstairs. As he turned from closing the door, he noticed the glow of a camp-fire behind the hotel. How likely would it be that the same people were still camped behind his room? He pulled up the window and blew out his light. I should be ashamed of myself, he thought, but I am starving for entertainment. He sipped the ale he had brought up with him and waited. After a few moments, he heard a familiar voice engaged in conversation, an argument in the starlight which brought his attention.

  “I don’t know what happened to the donkey. I tied him up and he was gone when I went back to look for the amulet.” The familiar voice sounded angry.

  “You should have taken the amulet before you dumped the beast. It could have brought luck. You need to find it. It could bring good fortune.” The second man’s voice was deep. The two men—dark figures in the flickering gloom—kicked at the already waning camp-fire to put it out and then walked into two separate tents.

  Bergen closed his window. “That did not last long.” He scratched his head. “I wonder what they want with the little donkey’s collar amulet. It is just a blue stone.” Maybe it was something he should look at more closely. It had been a long day, one that was surely leading to an even more fascinating day tomorrow. He at once felt guilty for putting off Aunt Faith. He had promised to be there by now.

  Elizabeth shut the door behind Lord Bergen and leaned her head against it. Life was exhausting and she did not need this complication. Lord Bergen had surprised her, though. He had not seemed at all discouraged or annoyed with the children. Perhaps she had wronged him. However, he was too handsome and charming—could he truly mean to stay for the pageant? It did not seem real.

  Her husband had been handsome and charming in the beginning, too, and she had learned her lesson well. Now she was left to bring up his bastard children, he and their mother having been killed in a fire. There really had been no other choice but to take the children to raise as her own. They were precious, and it was no fault of theirs that their father had been living a double life. Mistresses were accepted amongst the ton—their bastards were not.

  Slowly, she climbed the stairs to the nursery to kiss the children good night. Ruthie and Marie were already asleep, snuggled together. Josiah was sitting on his bed, fingering something blue.

  “What have you there?” she asked as she sat on the edge of his mattress and placed an arm around him. At first, he covered the item, as though to hide it; then he held it out to her.

  “I found it around the donkey’s neck.”

  “Oh. May I see?” She turned over the blue stone and examined the pinkish purple star-shower in the centre. There was a glimmer which seemed to come from behind the star. It was pretty, although probably the most unusual design she had ever seen.

  “Do you think it is beautiful?” Josiah asked. “I wonder why he was wearing it.”

  “That is a good question. I believe amulets are thought by the gypsies to hold special powers. Perhaps they placed it on him.”

  “I would not have left it—or him. I bet Clarence is really sad. It does not feel good to be left behind.”

  Elizabeth hugged Josiah close. “No, it does not; but he has a good home now, as you do. I know I cannot replace your real mama, but you will always be safe and cared for here.”

  “I know. I did not mean to say you are not a good mama. I am grateful to you.”

  “I know I will never replace your real parents. I understand that.”

  Elizabeth handed the amulet back to the boy and he fingered it while she hugged him and wished him good night.

  “Lizzie?” he asked as she walked away. She turned back at the query in his tone.

  “The fancy lord likes you.”

  “I would not worry about him. He will be gone after the pageant.”

  “I liked him. He treated me as a real person.”

  “I am glad. He was very kind. You must not think yourself anything other than a real person, though, my dear.” She smiled and closed the door behind her yet could not help worrying as she hurried to her room. What was that confounded man up to?

  “Stop it, Lizzie!” she chastised herself. “You are reading far too much into this,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her.

  “What was that, my lady?” Hannah asked.

  “I fear I’m talking to myself, Hannah.” She allowed the maid to unlace her, and then sat at the dressing table to take her hair down.

  “The word downstairs is that the London Lord is downright handsome. I wish I’d had a chance to see him.”

  “I suppose he is, but handsome is as handsome does,” she replied, though she immediately felt guilty for being so harsh. In truth, Lord Bergen had done nothing wrong.

  “Well, they say he was very kind to his horse and not at all high and mighty with the grooms or footmen,” Hannah added as she brushed Elizabeth’s hair. Elizabeth closed her eyes and relaxed at the soothing motion.

  “That only means he gave them handsome vails,” she retorted.

  Chapter 4

  “What is this?” The short woman with greying hair swatted her mahogany writing desk and huffed her displeasure, speaking to anyone within earshot of the room. The slap on her desk upset a small, open bottle of ink, causing it to rock and then, fall from the desk to the rug below, spilling. “My nephew is known for his good humour and his good times, the rogue, but I will not allow him to be taken in by her.” The old woman laid her nephew’s letter down and rang for her butler. Unable to sit still, she paced across the room to her new acquisition, a blue and gold linen-covered settee, and straightened the rolled side pillows. Snatching the note up from the desk, she gripped the brass dog’s head handle on her cane and sat down on the small couch, softly thumping the cane on the floor in an effort to contain her displeasure.

  A few moments later, a tall, thin man appeared. He had a balding pate and thick patches of slightly greying hair on the sides of his head.

  “Winston. I find myself having to rescue my nephew, Lord Bergen, and I may not have a moment to lose.” She slapped the missive against the mahogany frame of the sofa in a pique of irritation and opened it up again to read it. Muttering, she looked at the name of the town her nephew had mentioned. “I do not recognize that town. However, there cannot be two with the same name. I will not allow my brother’s child to have that woman sink her claws into him. When did she move there? I thought she was in London. Well, no matter. She has had two husbands already and led countless decent men into financial ruin. My nephew will not be her newest conquest.” She huffed again. “Winston, have Alice attend me.”

  “Very good, my lady.” With a bow, the wizened man left the room.

  Leaning on her cane, Lady Faith Bergen stood up, unable to continue sitting, and fidgeted around the parlour, fuming, until her maid arrived.

  “Alice, pack my trunks, if you please,” she ordered the girl. “I find that I need to rescue my nephew.”

  “Lord Bergen, my lady? Are you not expecting him for the Christmastide season?”

  “Drat! He was supposed to be here two days hence, but along the way he met a widow, and not just any widow. His letter says he met a… I think it says Mrs. Newton. The ink blurred next to her name. Anyway, someh
ow, he has allowed this widow to convince him to stay…in Stony Stratford, of all places.” Lady Faith declared her displeasure with her voice raised so high, she squeaked as she finished her account.

  “My lady…your voice. You know what the doctor has told you about getting so excited.”

  “Yes, yes, you are right, Alice.” She shook her head and gently caressed her neck. “I must not lose my voice. I have a lot to say when I see that lad!”

  “I have never been to Stony Stratford, my lady. Is it a big town? Will we be staying, my lady?”

  “I confess I have not been there either. I have heard of it, of course.” She drew herself up and pursed her lips. “I am afraid we will have to stay for at least a day or so. It falls upon me to rescue my nephew from this unscrupulous woman. Please dispatch a groom to make arrangements for us at a posting inn. Let me see what the letter says.” She shook open the half-beaten missive.

  “Bergen mentions an inn called The Cock. It must be one of the places where he regularly stays…but no matter, that helps. Let the groom know I expect the very best accommodations and we may be there for one or two nights. And please find someone to clean up the spill I just made in my fit of displeasure.” She nodded at the spilled ink.

  “Yes, my lady.” Alice curtsied and left to do her mistress’s bidding.

  Meanwhile, Lady Bergen sat down at her desk and took out a piece of vellum.

  “He has friends also expecting him. I suppose it would not hurt to enlist their aid,” she muttered to herself. Although in a hurry, she decided to pen a quick note to his friend, the Earl of Shefford and let him know of Bergen’s delay and her determination to rescue him.

  Bergen thought Lady Newton had seemed somewhat introspective towards the end of play practice this evening. Maybe it was a signal he was making some headway. Her children were delightful, especially little Marie. Ah, but she was a caring one. Laughing aloud, he considered what was keeping him here. A Christmas pageant, of all things; it was quite ridiculous. He wished he could turn back time, just to see again Lady Newton’s face when Marie suggested her mother be Mary and he be Joseph. He was certain he had heard her gasp, and each time he gave thought to it, he laughed. Nonetheless, staying for the play was significantly delaying his journey to London, and his friends would be looking for him.

  The warm sun had traded places with a full moon and a frigid wind when he and Merry were approaching the same turn where, earlier in the day, he could have sworn he heard voices. He recalled hearing both a male and female voice behind the mulberry bush Clarence had been tied to only yesterday, but now could see no one on the road from his vantage point. On this return trip to Stony Stratford, he stilled to listen. There was nothing. He and his horse rode quietly on, without voices or interruptions, until he pulled up at The Cock.

  “You are back, my lord!” Perry was excited and clearly happy to see him, nearly running forward to help him with Merry. “Welcome back! It is beef pie tonight. It be my favourite meal. I hope there will be some worthy scraps.”

  “Do you get the scraps?” Bergen asked.

  “Not every night, my lord. If we are busy, we only get the uneaten bread. But that satisfies.” The young lad smiled and pocketed the three shillings Bergen gave him before leading Merry to the stables. “I will take good care of her, my lord,” he said, turning around.

  “Thank you, Perry. It appears I will be here for a few more days.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The boy nodded as he spoke. “We have just received word of important visitors coming from London. “’Tis a mighty important lady who be coming to our small town. Everyone is having to clean the inn from top to bottom.”

  “That is interesting news, Perry. I shall be curious to see who arrives.”

  Bergen tried to think of a lady he could know who would be making a trip to this country town at this time of year. No one came to mind. Dismissing it, he let himself inside. The inn was busy with its normal rowdy customers, but Bergen saw that a huge door he had not previously noticed, which gave access to the tap-room, had been closed in an effort to control some of the noise. The innkeeper and his wife were scurrying about issuing orders to their minions. The advanced notice of the expected entourage seemed to have set them by the ears.

  “Good evening, my lord. Welcome back. We had not expected you but are very glad of your return.” The innkeeper was breathing hard from exertion. “Will you be wanting your room again tonight?”

  “Yes. I realize I should have mention this last evening when I returned, but I believe I will be staying for a few more days. I will eat in the dining room tonight, if the kitchen is still serving.” Dinner had been extraordinary, and with all of the excitement, he had not eaten much of it. A light repast, he thought, would allow for a better night’s sleep.

  “Very good, my lord.” The innkeeper sent a maid to check the bedchamber had been prepared and directed Bergen to the dining room. “Right this way, my lord.”

  Bergen looked about in amazement. The room was clean. Surfaces were sparkling. Every table had either two opposing chairs, or four neatly placed around it. Mats, utensils, napkins and a small vase of wild flowers graced each table. A fire roared in the huge stone fireplace, which had been cleaned of the usual smut and grime. He wished his friend Edward, the Earl of Weston, could see this room. He would not recognize it as the same inn they had frequented on their trips to London, and where they had raised so much revelry.

  Chuckling to himself, Bergen sat down and ordered a mug of ale and a beef pie—recognizing he was hungrier than he thought. The vicar had seemed to be the only one truly enjoying the dinner they had, once again, all shared at Newton Grange. He thought again of Lady Newton’s children and realized he did not want to disappoint them. Josiah’s face flashed through his mind. I wonder what it is that causes the boy such unrest. He has happy surroundings, so there must be something troubling him from before. Bergen thought of his own childhood and his parents, both now gone. They had always laughed a lot together. He could not remember a time when he had been maudlin while growing up—until he had lost his parents when still young. Boxing Day and Christmastide had always been a joyful time for his family, and yet he now barely celebrated it, except quietly with Aunt Faith. Tomorrow he would go to town and buy gifts for the children, hoping Lady Newton would find it acceptable.

  “Your pie and ale, my lord.” He looked up and had difficulty clamping his mouth shut from the shock of the vision in front of him. The buxom maid who had brought his food was scarce recognizable as the same tavern wench who served ale and behaved loosely with customers. Tonight, her hair was hidden under a tidy mob-cap and she wore a high-collared, brown gown which gave no sneak view of the endowments usually on display. The dress even appeared cleaned and pressed. A pity, he thought, as he sipped his ale and attacked his pie.

  Elizabeth had not seen or heard from Lord Bergen since rehearsal and dinner the day before, and she was beginning to think she had imagined the whole episode. As she dressed for this evening’s pageant rehearsal, she decided she would not put on any more displays to give him a disgust of her. People in the town would begin to talk and wonder why she was behaving so oddly.

  “That’s more like it, my lady,” Hannah remarked when she saw that Elizabeth had chosen a more flattering gown the colour of jade.

  “I decided I could not concern myself with Lord Bergen…should he even return today.”

  “Oh, he is still here, all right and tight.” Elizabeth smiled inwardly at the maid’s use of a phrase more commonly employed in the stables. “So, it seems, is some other fancy London lady. There is a lot of talk downstairs. Sally’s brother works at the Cock and told her all about it.”

  “Why should our quiet town suddenly have all these visitors during Christmastide?”

  “I could not say, my lady, but it is my belief Lord Bergen has his eye on you and he will nay leave afore he’s been told you ain’t having none.” Her voice rose and her careful speech lost its precision with her
excitement.

  “That is quite enough of that, Hannah.”

  The maid looked unrepentant. “Yes, my lady. I do think as he’d be right delicious like your Aunt Jane says.” She hurried from the room before Elizabeth could retort.

  Turning to the looking-glass, Elizabeth let out a deep sigh. She was only six and twenty, but she felt much older. Studying her image in the mirror, she reflected that she was in better looks than at the end, when Horace had treated her so poorly. Much of the strain of that time was beginning to fade and there was some bloom to her cheeks again. She stood and examined her reflection. While she was a little fuller than she had been as a bride of eighteen, when she had married, she thought her figure was not yet to be deplored. Pressing her stomach to settle the butterflies swirling inside, she shook her head and left her chamber.

  “Silly, silly girl,” she chastised herself. “He is only interested in his own amusement.”

  Dinner seemed different without Bergen this night. Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she missed his company at the table and found herself looking forward to pageant practice this evening. The children were waiting for her, already bundled up in warm clothes, to go to the church. She put on her own cape, hat and muff, and followed the little party outside into the cold December night. The groom was holding Clarence ready and the donkey jounced around with obvious glee when he saw them.

  “Are you ready to go, little fellow?” Elizabeth asked. He nodded his head as though he understood her. “Josiah, you lead him,” she instructed.

  They walked up Mill Lane and Elizabeth could not but enjoy the smell of wood-burning in the chimneys and the frost covering the grass.

  “Burr! I think we might have a white Christmas,” Elizabeth said. “We will have to make the church look like a stable instead of holding it outside.”

  “I like snow,” Ruthie said.