The Dark Earl (21 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: The Dark Earl
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“What do you mean?”
“First, let me explain a few things about the County of Durham. You are aware that it provides England with coal. There are scores of mines, and as a result, there is a great deal of
subsidence.
That is when the earth’s surface collapses downward from being undermined. Many of the mines were opened long ago when careful planning and preventative measures were unheard of. When D’Arcy’s father was created Earl of Durham, he inherited the land, and wherever large coalfields were discovered, he leased it to various colliery owners who put down shafts and opened up the mines.”
Harry pictured miles of lovely green fields and rows of houses sinking and collapsing into deep, black holes.
“D’Arcy inherited all this when he was a boy, but had no say in anything until he came of age a few years ago. He cannot afford to antagonize the colliery owners, whose mines provide Durham and England with so much wealth. When he proposes measures that will improve the miners’ working conditions, he must be diplomatic. He has to walk a fine line, and cannot be seen to take the side of the miners against the owners.”
“I don’t really see why not,” Harry said stubbornly.
“He cannot go barging in there and throw his weight around simply because he is the Earl of Durham. The colliery owners would complain to the Crown. Moreover, if he angered these owners, they could shut down the mines—hundreds of men would be thrown out of work and their families would starve. There would be riots, Harry. As Earl of Durham it is his responsibility to ensure that things run smoothly.”
“I see. Perhaps that’s why D’Arcy wants to be appointed lord lieutenant, so he can have a greater influence on the coal industry.”
“Being the queen’s representative would certainly add to his power.”
“Thank you for explaining, Father. Things are always far more complicated than they seem.” Harry managed to smile. “D’Arcy promised me faithfully that he would send money to help with the disaster once he got the reports.”
“You are tenderhearted, Harriet. Championing the downtrodden is a heavy burden for one so young. If you let it consume you, it will destroy your happiness.”
When Harry left the library, she felt extremely restless. She wandered into the empty ballroom and stopped to gaze out a window. The gas lamps on the street below cast small circles of illumination, but their light did not reach across the road into Hyde Park, where the tall trees shrouded it in darkness.
Her heart was heavy. She could not shake off the thought of all the children who would be crying themselves to sleep tonight. As she left the ballroom, her feet carried her in the direction of the nursery. The events of the day inexorably drew her to check on her little sister and brother.
“They are asleep, Lady Harriet,” the children’s nursemaid informed her.
“I’m glad they’re asleep, Mary. Thank you for watching over them so vigilantly. I won’t disturb them. I’ll just stand at the door and look at them for a few moments.”
The nursery was shadowed, but she could see that the children were sleeping. Five-year-old Ronald was clutching a stuffed rabbit, and four-year-old Maud’s dark curls against the white pillowcase brought a lump to Harry’s throat. She remembered a prayer for hopeless causes that Mary, the Irish Catholic nursemaid, had taught her when she was a little girl, and she began to silently recite it:
Oh Holy Saint Jude, Apostle and Martyr,
Great in Virtue, and Rich in Miracles,
Near kinsman of Jesus Christ,
The faithful intercessor of all who invoke your special
patronage in times of need,
To you, I have recourse from the depths of my heart,
And humbly beg you, to whom God has given such great
power,
To come to the aid of the people in Murton, Durham,
And in return I promise to make your name known.
 
As she gazed at the well-cared-for children who were surrounded by love, the lump in her throat eased, and the heaviness of her heart lifted. She knew she had so much to be thankful for, she should be rejoicing.
Harry returned to the library to select a book. She needed something to distract her thoughts from again sinking into dark despair. She chose a book on architecture by Robert Adam and sat down in one of the brass-mounted library chairs. She began to read about Harewood House and studied a sketch of the gardens that had been designed by Lancelot “Capability” Brown. She could not help comparing the stately home to another that always lingered in her memory.
Her thoughts were interrupted when someone walked past the library door. She raised her eyes from her book as her brother backtracked and came in to join her.
“Harry, I heard something outrageous tonight that I think you should know.”
“Hello, James. From whom did you hear this shocking news?”
“From John Montagu. He told me that his brother Will and D’Arcy Lambton have a high-stakes wager about you.”
She closed the heavy book with a thud. “About me?”
He lowered his voice confidentially. “It seems that D’Arcy bet Will two hundred guineas that Lady Harriet Hamilton would accept his proposal of marriage. They registered the wager in White’s betting book.”
Harry was stunned. “Insufferable swines!”
“I knew you would be livid. Not about D’Arcy making you the Countess of Durham—we all expect that—but to put your name in the betting book is unconscionable.”
She shook her head wearily. This was all she needed to hear to finish off a day that had drained her emotions to the last drop. “Thank you for telling me, James.”
Harry sat alone in the library. The last thing she wanted to do was go up to the bedchamber she shared with Beatrix and Jane. Her brother’s words echoed in her head, intensifying her anger until she became incensed. Putting her name in White’s betting book was a trifling offense when measured against the greater sin that D’Arcy Lambton and Will Montagu had committed. She was devastated that young nobles could be so immature and irresponsible as to wager two hundred guineas to amuse themselves. She rocked back and forth in anguish.
Only think what those poor wretches in Murton could do with that money.
A thought of Thomas Anson came unbidden.
He is right to condemn gambling. It is truly the scourge of the upper classes. How many fortunes have been lost because of gaming addictions? Anson knows firsthand what it is like to have his family’s happiness destroyed by it.
It was long past midnight when she went upstairs, quietly undressed, and slipped into bed. She lay there hour after hour, tossing and turning as sleep eluded her. Just before dawn, she finally fell asleep and began to dream. She awoke with a start and tried to recall the details of the dream as it began to fade. All she remembered was D’Arcy’s laughing countenance and money chests filled with gold coins.
The end of her Season was rapidly approaching and she wished she could hold back time. From what James had said, she wasn’t the only one who was expecting D’Arcy to propose and make her his countess.
I thought I was ready to say yes, but after yesterday’s events, I need more time before I commit myself.
Rose tapped on the bedchamber door before she entered. Then she came in, opened the drapes, and turned out the lamp.
Beatrix and Jane awoke and sat up in bed.
“Good morning, ladies. Would you like breakfast trays, or will you eat downstairs?”
“Nothing for me, thank you, Rose.” Harry threw back the covers.
“We’ll have breakfast downstairs,” Trixy told Rose.
“I’ve decided to go and visit Rachel for the weekend.”
“Harry, you can’t! It’s Saturday. Have you forgotten that we are invited to a musical evening at the Edgcumbes’ tonight? It will likely be one of the last parties of the Season and everyone will be there.”
“Yes, I had forgotten. But I want to see Rachel and I need to talk to Uncle Johnny about something important before Parliament recesses. Please offer my regrets to Lady Caroline.”
“Harry, I wish you’d come. You can go and see Rachel tomorrow.”
“No, my mind is made up. You will have Henry Edgcumbe all to yourself.”
“But what about D’Arcy?”
“He will simply have to manage without me for once,” Harry said firmly.
Chapter Eleven
 
“T
hank you for letting me sit up on the box with you, Riley. The exhilarating ride was just what I needed this morning.” Harry climbed down, not caring that her windblown hair looked like a wild blackberry bush.
“Harry, how lovely to see you.” Rachel picked up her niece’s luggage. “Riley, go to the kitchen and have some ale before you drive back to London.”
“Thank ye very much, m’ lady. Shall I come back for ye on Monday, Lady Harry?”
“Oh, no. Why don’t you stay until at least Tuesday?” Rachel suggested.
“Yes, come back for me on Tuesday. Mother may need the coach in the morning, so come after lunch, Riley.”
The trio went into Campden Hill and Riley made his way through to the kitchen.
Rachel’s eyes were alight with curiosity. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, may I ask?”
“My visit is more likely to depress you than give you pleasure, I’m sorry to say, but you are so easy to talk to.”
“That’s only because I’m a good listener.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.”
“I’ll order us some tea. On second thought, sherry would be better. Come into the sitting room and I’ll pour us a couple or three.”
Harry sipped her wine and sighed with appreciation. “Where do I start? With a confession, I suppose. I came to escape attending a musical evening being given by the Earl and Countess of Mount Edgcumbe, because D’Arcy Lambton will be there.”
“Why do you want to avoid D’Arcy?”
“Because he will ask me to marry him, and I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Are you certain he will propose?”
“Absolutely. I found out that he bet Will Montagu two hundred guineas that I will accept his proposal of marriage. The fools registered the wager in White’s betting book.”
“What the devil is the matter with men? That’s like the story I’m writing . . . a lady forced to marry because of a gambling debt!”
“Well, unlike your story, I’m not being forced. But I honestly don’t know whether to accept D’Arcy’s proposal or postpone giving him an answer. That’s why I’m avoiding him, until I make a decision. That, and the fact that I would make a scene when I kick his bloody shins for making wagers about me.”
“You did right to come and visit me. It will give your temper time to cool, so that you can come to a rational decision.”
Harry ran her finger around the rim of her sherry glass. “If only it were as simple as getting over my temper. It’s far more complicated than that.”
Rachel lifted the decanter. “Drink up, and I’ll pour you another. I’m all ears.”
Harry took a deep breath and plunged into the tragic story of the mine explosion. She described the scene at Langham Place and then she recounted her visit to D’Arcy.
“Hearing about such disasters scalds the heart. But it sounds to me like the Earl of Durham is in sore need of a countess.”
“Oh, absolutely, Rachel. As Countess of Durham, I would take on the cause of improving the lives of the miners and their families, as well as crusading for safety measures down the pits.”
“Then why do you hesitate?”
“Because I’m not sure that’s what D’Arcy would want his countess to do. I fear we would be constantly at odds. He hates that I associate with the women at Langham Place. He says the suffragists will never have the authority or power to change things, and I should leave it to men to right the wrongs.”
“That’s laughable. My brother has dedicated his life to righting wrongs, but men like Lord John Russell are few and far between.”
“That’s another reason I came. I need to talk to Uncle Johnny tomorrow.”
“Harry, you don’t give yourself enough credit. D’Arcy is in love with you. If you became his wife, he would be putty in your hands. Remember what the tarot cards say:
It is the woman who leads, and the man who follows.
A clever wife, who knows how to be subtle, makes most of the decisions in a marriage. You need look no further than your mother, or my mother, for proof of that.”
“Father loves my mother deeply. He would do anything for her.” Harry sighed. “That’s the kind of marriage I hope to have.”
“Marriage does give a woman power, and as Countess of Durham, you would have even greater power. And only think of the wealth that marriage to D’Arcy would bring.”
“D’Arcy makes it plain that he is in love with me, and I am very fond of him. I can’t put it off much longer. Next time he proposes, I will have to give him his answer.”
“Harry, you know that most marriages are not love matches. And from my observation, even if they are, one partner always loves more than the other,” Rachel said shrewdly. “It is far more preferable to be the one who is loved.”

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