Two hours was a long time in a coach. Matthew was bored and his travel companions weren't helping. Simon was admiring the countryside, his gaze unfalteringly trailing the trees they passed. His fingers absently stroked the head that was resting in his lap; Phil had fallen asleep around an hour ago and remained curled up on the bench beside him. Every so often she sighed heavily, not even feigning youth in her sleep.
Matt supposed he could have turned to his other sister for entertainment, but he wasn't that cruel. Beth looked awful. She was pale and clammy, her pink dress failing to bring out colour in her cheeks and only serving to make her look more unwell. Her hands worried in her lap, picking at the nails on one hand, then the other, and then switching back to the first.
She needed a distraction, Matt decided abruptly. And he was more than happy to provide.
"Do you think the Namby estate will be as charming-" he fluttered his eyelashes "- as David himself?"
Beside him, Beth startled, her head jerking towards him as if she hadn't realised he'd been there the whole journey. "Forgive me, what..." She cast a quick look around the cabin, taking stock of where they were and who was present, as her fidgeting shifted to the second hand. "What did you say?"
"I said-" He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind." Irritation flared, and he decided that his brother did not deserve to be left in peace. "Remind me what the point of this journey is?"
Beth fidgeted to the first hand again. "We go to check on our friend." The statement was so quiet it was nearly inaudible over the sound of gravel crunched between the carriage wheels.
Simon dragged his eyes away from the countryside and nodded. "And to see if he has remembered anything pertinent."
Their brother leaned forward, genuinely interested despite himself. "So, you have not given up on the mystery of what happened between David and the Thornes?" With a wiggled brow, he sunk down further in the seat and folded his arms across his chest in challenge. "I would have thought you and Bart would have dismissed it once David left us."
Beth's picking returned to the second hand as Simon frowned at Matt. To the younger's disappointment, he seemed to have detected the goading tone and decided not to rise further to the bait. He only shook his head slightly.
"Not that we would change a thing, but I think it is clear to the Thornes that we have aligned ourselves with David – and with Thomas. I do not think we have a choice in whether we continue this. And more importantly, David has become a friend to us all. We care-" his eyes darted quickly to Beth, with only the tiniest stumble in his speech, "- for him."
Simon had clearly not had enough practice as the trickster sibling, Matt realised with a wince; his subterfuge skills were not up to scratch.
"We will at least stay the night?" he asked quickly.
The question drew a predictable response from Beth. "Of course not!" she all but shrieked, her hands stilling for the first time as they clenched in her skirts. "We will not impose, and we will not overstay our welcome. We will stop for tea, check on- check that he's alright, and then we will return home."
Matt vowed to himself there and then that he would not be making a return trip that day; another two hours trapped with his despondent sister was completely unconscionable.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Beth change again to pick at the second hand.
"Oh, for the love of-" Matt reached out suddenly and laid his hands atop hers, pressing them into stillness. "Will you stop doing that!"
His raised voice not only served to draw Beth's ire, colour clawing its way back into her face, but to wake Phil. The girl sat up slowly, stifling a yawn with the back of one hand and looking around the carriage with bleary eyes.
"Have we reached David yet?" she asked.
A snippy response on his tongue, Matt was interrupted by Simon. "Indeed, we have."
The siblings all looked out the windows with varying amounts of excitement, watching as they rattled up the drive to the front of the Namby estate. There was no doubt that it had once been a beautiful building. The stonework was all sharp angles and tall square pillars, matching the fountain that was settled before it, but where once it might have been a dark, imposing mark on the landscape, now it was in disrepair. The colour was impossible to decipher beneath the layers of dirt, dust and mud, any intricacies long hidden. The vegetation was either overgrown or hanging dead against the walls, and most windows were boarded up.
It looked thoroughly unwelcoming.
"So... Directly home?" Matt asked in the now still carriage. None of them made a move for the door.
In the end it was Phil, glancing up at her siblings with what might have been called exasperation on someone older, who exited first. The driver had already dismounted, opening the door, and she grabbed her skirts and jumped down. She landed unexpectedly in a puddle – they'd seen no rain on the drive – and let out a giggle.
Beth leant forward in her seat, glancing hopelessly between her sister's soaked shoes and the mud-stained hem of her dress. She made to scold her, but the girl had already taken off running towards the house.
And the two figures who were gathered on the front steps.
Beth recognised David instantly. He was still tall, still broad, and still handsome – all his bruises now healed and the only evidence of his injuries the crutch still balanced under one arm – but there was something different in the way he held himself. His posture was straighter, less forgiving... perhaps it came with the weight of his new title.
Whatever the change was, it disappeared the moment he recognised Phil. As her small feet hit the steps, his name leaving her tongue in a giddy yelp, he squatted down and welcomed her with open arms and a grin. He twirled her with a laugh, her feet almost kicking the woman beside him. No sooner did they swing to a halt than Phil changed from giggles to chatter.
The lady beside them with a thundering frown bore enough resemblance to the woman from two nights prior for Beth to assume it was David's mother. Without that, she would not have assumed any relationship. She was short and sturdy, pale in comparison to the light tan David had earned from hobbling through the Humphrey gardens. And there was an obvious difference in attitude, even from Beth's distance; where David watched and listened to Phil with attentive delight, his mother scanned the girl with a mixture of horror and disdain.
Which was probably the reason Simon was already closing the gap between the carriage and the house.
Beth knew she should follow. She had to follow; she could hardly sit in the carriage all afternoon, after all! As she looked at the step, the driver's hand hovering awkwardly in her peripheries as he waited to assist her, she could hear her heart racing in her ears. It was all she could hear. And every thrum reminded her of one crushing fact.
Not yours. Not yours. Not yours.
A hand on her shoulder pulled her out of the spiral, and she turned her head slightly in the carriage doorway to catch Matt's comforting smile.
"The longer you wait, the more difficult it gets," he cautioned, his smile light.
Beth nodded, forcing her mouth to return the gesture. "I don't know what to say to you when you're being kind; it's so unusual."
If there was any sting in the joke, it did not show in the twinkle of Matt's eyes. Instead, he offered a solemn, "You're right."
And pushed her out of the carriage.
Beth's squark of surprise was muffled somewhat as she tumbled out, inaudible – she hoped – over the introductions being made at the house. Thankfully, she caught the equally surprised driver's hand, one slippered foot miraculously hitting the step and the other the ground without ankles being rolled or hems being dirtied. It was a premature, ungraceful descent, but not entirely humiliating.
She would undoubtedly have scolded her whelp of a brother anyway, if she didn't look up and notice that her squeak had drawn at least a little attention; David was staring directly at her.
Heat filled Beth's cheeks, and she briefly considered dragging herself back into the carriage. Matthew stepped forward however, and looped her arm through his, forcefully 'escorting' her forward.
"Remember to smile," he whispered through clenched teeth.
Simon glanced back at their approach, Phil now standing at his feet with his arm resting on her shoulder. Her glee had faded, and her usual too-adult calculation had returned to her face as her gaze shifted between the three adults that towered over her.
"Lady Richards, please allow me to introduce my youngest brother, Lord Matthew Humphrey, and our other sister, Lady Elizabeth Humphrey."
The dowager did not look impressed. In fact, she looked thoroughly unimpressed. Her gaze scanned them each in turn as Simon introduced them, without a hint of a smile on her face. Beth wondered what she saw.
Phil had probably not been the best first introduction to their family. Perhaps the countess had seen a loud, uncouth little girl who was bearing the burden of growing up without parents. Simon, surely, would have restored some of her good opinion of the Humphrey family; he looked every part of his role and title. He was well-groomed and cordial and surely if the woman had a female acquaintance of marrying age she was already contriving an introduction.
Matthew was a different story. His deliberately unkempt – as opposed to Vincent's accidentally unkempt – hair, his sardonic smile, and his eyebrow that was always twitching to challenge people... well, these were probably not appealing factors to the dowager.
And lastly Beth. She wondered what the older woman saw. A calm, respectable young lady with great... affection... for her son? Or an ungainly, desperate spinster who posed no threat to her or her son because how could a man in David's position possibly be wooed by a woman like Beth.
She blinked.
That supposition had perhaps been a little darker than she'd intended.
The dowager had offered no reply to the introductions other than a tilt of her head – which meant Beth hadn't missed anything during her ruminations – and it was now the moment Beth had been dreading.
She looked to David.
He was already looking at her.
Whatever else was said around them melted away for a long moment, leaving Beth staring into his soft, grey-green eyes. He was unchanged. Except he had a fiancé now.
Beth looked away quickly.
David's mother was still cold and silent; she was ignoring them and being ignored in turn. Simon clapped David on the shoulder, drawing his attention.
"How are you, David? Are your memories returning?"
He assured them he was well and then swallowed. "My past returns in fragments. I can recall much of my childhood now, but my last few years remain..." he shrugged, "blurry." He grinned down at Phil, tousling her hair. "You don't know of any remedies for that, do you Doctor?"
She squirmed out from under his hand, smiling but thinking. "I might have to consult some texts."
No one laughed, for it was not a joke.
David smiled though and gestured towards the open doors behind him. "Please come in then. We can have some tea and I'll show you to the library. It might even have some books you've not yet read."
Again, not a joke.
As he made to move, the dowager latched onto his arm. "No!" She battened down her ferocious expression quickly, and pinned them with cold politeness. "It was nice of you all to come and check on my son," she said in a way that made it clear she did not think it was nice, "but we are expecting guests. You may call another day, I'm sure."
Matt's eyes raised towards the heavens; so help him if this unlikeable old woman made him get back in that carriage!
David was not about to let that happen though. "Mother," he said sternly, gently removing her grip on him. "The Humphreys are dear friends of mine, and they have travelled a long way to visit me. They will be staying for tea. What's a few more guests when we have more than enough tea to go around."
Matt saw his chance. "That's kind of you David," he said, grinning brightly and gradually letting it fade to remorse. "It was a long trip. In fact, I do not know how long we might stay. We should need to leave soon if we want to return home by nightfall."
The dowager's victorious smile was short-lived. "Well then, you must stay the night! Please, I insist," David added when it looked like Simon might protest. "You shared your home with me for so long, you must allow me to return the favour."
Simon glanced from Matt's victorious grin, to Phil's eager smile, and chose to ignore the look of panic Beth had fixed on the steps. He nodded. "Thank you, David. We would love to stay."
Again, David indicated the house, but their progression was interrupted once more. This time by the rattle of carriage wheels on the drive.
Out of the corner of her eye, Beth watched David transform again; his posture straightened, his smile evaporated, and his nostrils flared. With a brief flare of curiosity, she wondered who could upset him so.
The coach stopped a little too abruptly where their's had been not moments before, and the door was flung open. It hit the body of the carriage and swung back, only to be caught by the overweight man attempting to squeeze through the opening. The feat was made more difficult by his height. He unfolded himself to stand nearly as tall as Simon, but twice the width, with short cropped grey hair and a beard that brushed his collar. His breeches were tan, fastened below his bulging stomach, and he wore an elaborate green waistcoat.
Perhaps the most redeeming feature about him, however, was his grin. He strode forward quickly, smile pinned on David, and the Humphrey siblings split to the sides to avoid being trampled.
"Ah, David m'boy, or I mean 'Count Namby' – Ho, it's still strange to say that title and mean you and not your father, bless his soul!" The words were fast flowing, heavily accented, and said so cheerfully that the listener could not help but smile.
David accepted his extended hand with a shake, ignoring the sharp inhale from his mother. "Mister Holt, I assume. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
The man pulled back sharply, confusion written on his face which cleared almost as quickly as I had arrived. "Ah, now I recall. Your dear Mama wrote us and said you were having some difficulty remembering things. I had a cousin once who..."
Beth abruptly stopped listening.
Mister Holt.
Holt.
Her head whipped back towards the carriage just in time to see the coachman helping down a vision. Her dress was a deep red satin, sitting slightly off the shoulder to reveal elegant collarbones and the barest suggestion curves. It hugged her tiny waist, flaring slightly, and then cascading to the ground. It looked like it belonged better in a ballroom than coming to tea. Together with silky blond hair that was somehow piled high on her head and falling across her shoulders, she was beautiful.
Beside Beth, Matt let out a small whistle under his breath. She reached out, intending to whack him, and instead fisted her hand in his sleeve. He patted it gently, and she felt even worse.
"... and she also said you wanted to see a copy of this, so I brought it along for you to peruse. I'll be wanting it back mind you – no way you'll be slipping out of this arrangement!" Mister Holt belted out a laugh, unaffected by the tight-lipped frown edging onto David's face as he accepted the scroll of parchment he was passed. Instead, he attributed the silence around him to his daughter, and turned to see how she fared. "Come along, Clarissa, dear. It's time you meet your betrothed."
.
Beth had never known that tea could be so uncomfortable. For starters, the settee that she, Phil and Matt were seated on was lumpy and uneven, and it took everything in her not to wriggle around. The same restraint was not present in her siblings. So whilst Simon, Mister Holt, David and his mother sat across the room, she was stuck with two squirming children and Miss Clarissa Holt who looked down her nose at Beth every time she sipped her tea.
"Have you been acquainted with Lord Richards long?" the young woman asked her, her words sweet even as she denied the biscuits offered to her by the servant.
Distracted momentarily, Beth hurriedly stopped Phil laying claim to the entire tray, pinning Matt with a look that said that nineteen-year-olds should not be filling their napkins with sweets either, and then turned her flustered gaze back to Clarissa.
"Lord Rich- oh, D-" She paused and hoped it would help her. "Not long at all. Only this past month or two."
There was no follow-up question, only a short sip of tea and another superior look. "And are you married?"
Beth tried not to frown. They'd been introduced. She knew she was Matt and Simon's sister, and that they shared a last name. Why would she ask?
"No, I'm not."
Another sip of tea and a triumphant quirk of her lips answered the 'why'.
"Oh, betrothed then."
Beth's smile froze in place. She'd spent enough time in ballrooms with coquettish, competitive misses to understand this behaviour. She only wished she had some ferocious rebuttal other than, "No."
Fake surprise, wide eyes, no tea this time. "Oh? Well surely you must be courting someone! A pretty young thing like you."
The condescension was so palpable that it drew Matt's attention. "She was," he called from the other end of the settee, pausing to lick a skerrick of icing from his thumb. "But she punched him, so-"
"No, not currently!" Beth almost shouted over him.
Clarissa's well-sculpted eyebrows raised along with her teacup. "Pity." She sipped. "Well, I must thank you for taking such good care of my dear David. I was just beside myself with worry when I stopped hearing from him. I couldn't help but think that he'd been tricked into matrimony by some common strumpet, but to learn he's been safe in your care, well..." she smiled her dazzling smile that made Beth's insides turn to dust. "You cannot imagine how relieved I am."
Matt leant over suddenly, pushing Phil forward off the seat so he could enter the conversation. Their sister huffed, but he flicked his fingers towards Simon, David and Mister Holt, and she made her way over to them with only a scowl and a poked out tongue. Taking advantage of the space, Matt slipped closer to Beth. He crossed one knee over the other and propped his head on his hand.
"I am curious, Miss Holt, how you recognised dear David the other night. From what I've gathered, this is in fact your first meeting?"
Her dainty smile didn't falter. "Indeed it is," she said, reaching for her reticule where it rested on the chaise lounge beside her. She fished out a delicate silver chain. "But he sent me his miniature, you see. We were very well acquainted through our letters, you see."
The barb did not land on Beth, however, as she could only stare at the small portrait of David that hung from the chain. There was no denying it was him – the artist was talented – but somehow it didn't resemble the man she knew. He was tight-lipped, frowning, uncomfortable.
For the first time, she wondered if the David she'd met was the same man he'd been before his injury.
"You wrote many letters, did you? Whilst you were away at school?"
Beth wished Matt would drop the issue. Every moment she spent in this conversation felt as if it took a year from her life.
The young girl brushed a silky wisp of hair out of her face. "Indeed. I was besotted with him. And his plans for our future."
"Plans?"
If Beth split her tea on Matt perhaps he'd stop his inquisition. Perhaps if she spilt it on herself she'd be allowed to leave the room altogether.
Clarissa nodded, setting aside her cup. Her smile was demur and fixed in place, her eyes bright as she met Matt's gaze.
"For marriage?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And children?"
"Yes."
"Many?"
"An heir and a spare. Perhaps a daughter to keep me company."
"Plans for the estate?"
For the first time, her careful expression faltered, and what looked like genuine surprise and mirth broke through. "Of course not," she said with a quaint, ladylike giggle. "Why would he discuss anything of the sort with me?"
The dowager set her teacup down forcefully, drawing the attention of the room. It was the first time Beth was grateful to the woman.
"You know," she tapped a plump finger against her lips, the very picture of thoughtful consideration. If you ignored the gleam in her eye. "I've just had a splendid idea. Why don't you both stay the night? It will be lovely to entertain so many for supper." She turned her smile to David. "After all, my son, what's a few more guests?"
.
It was late by the time Beth excused herself to bed. The men had not re-joined them after the uncomfortable dinner, and she'd been trapped in a room with the dowager and Miss Holt for hours. Thankfully, they'd ignored her for most of it, preferring to make wedding plans between themselves. Every so often a louder comment deliberately reached her; fears of title-hunters preying on David's lapse in memory, or what they'd tell their mutual friends about how he'd 'suffered' these last few weeks.
Beth did her best to focus on the book she'd picked up and not let their goading hurt her. Or at least, not let the hurt show.
Finally, the clock chimed a respectable hour to retire and Beth begged off. Neither of her companions spared her much more than a nod of dismissal. As she closed the door gently behind her, Beth leant against it and let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes. Her soul was weary; it had been an extraordinarily trying day. It was hard enough missing David's company for the last days, but then to be in his home and feel so profoundly uncomfortable... It was exhausting.
Raucous laughter suddenly erupted from the room behind her, and Beth jerked away. Perhaps it was ego talking, but she was all but certain they were laughing at her. Tears welled as she blushed, but she did her best to straighten her spine and took off at pace towards the room she'd been shown to earlier. If she could close the door behind her before the tears spilled, she would count the day as a win.
There was a noise, a growl, as Beth passed a room, and she stopped suddenly. A quick glance along the landing found no one else in sight, and so after a moment with her eyes pressed shut, she moved towards the ajar doorway. The hallway was not dark enough for her to think of ghouls or ghosts, and she was sure the sound had not come from one of her brothers. She knocked tentatively on the doorframe, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Is everything alrigh-" Even though she knew – hoped – that she might find David inside, the sight of him still took her breath away. He was hunched over a desk, crutch resting against the edge, forgotten, with shaggy curls falling like a curtain between them. His head jerked up at her words, clearly startled, but the irritation softened immediately.
He straightened, and with his shoulders down, his back straight, and his smile returning, he looked less like the ferocious Count Namby and more like the man she knew.
"Beth." Her name escaped on his breath unwittingly.
"What are you-" she asked at the same time that he said, "I'm sorry we did not-"
David grinned at her as they both broke off, raking his hair out of his face. Some of the awkwardness Beth felt faded, and she moved further into the room, gesturing at him to continue.
He rounded the desk to join her as he did so. "I only meant to say that I'm sorry we did not return to you and-" a short pause "- the other ladies. Mister Holt went to bed, Simon wanted to see to Phil, Matt to my liquor cabinet, and I, well..." he shrugged, limping to a stop and leaning against the desk. In this position, their eyes were nearly at the same level. "I needed a break from my mother and ..." he swallowed heavily, breaking eye contact with her for the first time. "Miss Holt."
Two different emotions warred in Beth, swirling in her stomach until she had no choice but to lay a hand across her abdomen. The first was fury at the injustice; her brothers, even David, had cried off from the uncomfortable evening without putting even a dint in social decorum. She, on the other hand, had been forced to sit through hours of discomfort and silent, hurtful judgement without so much as a second thought from either of them.
It was expected of her.
But they expected too much. Sitting through tea and then dinner and then retiring to the sitting room with one woman who obviously detested her, and another who would soon marry the man she...
And that brought her – more abruptly than she would have liked – to the second emotion; gnawing heartache.
Without attempting to find his gaze, Beth stepped around David in search of a distraction. "What were you examining when I entered? You sounded very-"
Just as David made a noise of protest, his hand darting out to wrap gently around her upper arm, Beth drew close enough to read the title of the parchment resting atop the desk. It was nestled amongst books, ledgers, notes and letters that were all probably innocuous and would have started a delightful conversation between them. Instead, she stared down at a document entitled ' Marriage Contract'.
David pulled her away as the tiniest whimper left her mouth. She was tugged back to face him, her body limp, and he grasped each of her hands in his. He shook them fiercely until she looked at him with glassy eyes.
"I had to know if it was true," he whispered urgently, his own eyes glistening, with what Beth couldn't tell. "If it was binding or if there was an honourable way out of the arrangement. I couldn't believe it until I saw the contract with my own two eyes, but now..."
He didn't need to say it aloud for Beth to know it to be true. The contract was binding.
Through the roaring in her ears, Beth just heard him say, "I could break it off. I could walk away-"
She squeezed his hands to stop him, and swallowed the emotion welling in her throat. "You are not that kind of man."
"Oh hello." The interruption from the doorway startled them both, and they jerked apart, each knocking a few books off the desk as they did so. Clarissa was standing in the doorway, looking stunning in the flickering candlelight, with a ferociously placid smile on her face. "I thought you were off to bed?" What her tone lacked in curiosity, it made up for in accusation.
To hide her tears, forced from her eyes by the appearance of the very woman she dreaded, Beth bent quickly to retrieve the ledgers. "I am on my way," she said, "I only stopped in to say goodnight to D- Lord Richards."
She reached for the final book, and it was edged closer to her by the toe of a delicate red slipper. Beth glanced up to find Clarissa towering over her, her eyes burning. After a long moment she ran her tongue across the edge of her teeth and stepped away, a genial smile falling easily into place as she turned to David and slipped her arm through his.
"How accommodating of my betrothed."
Beth closed her eyes at the reminder, righting herself and settling the books back on the desk. Whatever Clarissa's faults, she was telling the truth; David belonged to her and Beth was only hurting herself by being here. Hurting them all.
The other woman tossed her hair back over her shoulder, her gaze scanning Beth's form. There was no concern in her eyes when they met Beth's again.
"You really should hurry to bed, though. You look awful-ly exhausted." There was just enough pause for her true meaning to be apparent.
David was not unaware of all of this. Clarissa's attitude nauseated him, but he had not interjected. It would only make things worse for Beth if his fiancé – he was unused and not a little disgusted by the word – felt she had to lay further claim. Her latest barb however was a step too far.
"Miss Holt," he snapped, carefully extricating himself from her snake-like arm. "I'll thank you to watch your tone with my guest."
The smirk on her face faded, but it was not replaced by remorse like he might have supposed. Instead, her mouth fell into a neutral line, her eyebrow rising slightly as she surveyed him.
Beth was not of a mind to hear her reply, and interrupted quickly. "No, she's right. I am promised to my bed. Good night to you both."
She bobbed the quickest of curtsies and darted out the door, her head carefully bent to hide the tears that had welled again.
David made to follow her, stepped towards the door, but a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm, nails curving around to carve indents into his skin even through his coat. His head whipped to look down at the woman who remained instead. Without Beth in the room, her ire had faded. There was no malice on her face, no anger, only determination as she held him in place – in his place – beside her.
He tugged himself free again but only to put distance between them. He did not attempt to follow Beth again. "We were not a love match, were we?" It was barely a question.
Clarissa scoffed, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling as she turned to saunter away from him. "Of course not," she said as she perched on the edge of his desk, one ankle swinging to cross the other.
Her flippancy was an insult, to his pride and to Beth. His arms folded across his chest unbidden. "Then why create the union?"
"Your family needs money and mine legitimacy." She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "This is an excellent match to be made."
Money? Between the social engagements and trying to recall names of staff and rooms in the house, David had only managed a cursory look at the estate finances. With her off the cuff remark, analysing the ledgers rose to the top of his priorities.
"You are very young to be so jaded," was all he said aloud.
She tossed her radiant hair, adjusting her head to better look down her nose at him. "I am not 'jaded', merely realistic. And if one is not realistic in their youth, then one will be jaded in their old age."
He couldn't help but scoff. "What do you know of old age? You must have still been at finishing school when this was signed."
The insult did not land as it had intended, and she merely batted her eyes at him. "Indeed I was. But do not fear, I will not marry by proxy as I signed the contract. I'm thinking an autumn wedding – a full year is too long from signing to making our vows."
With that said, she dismounted the table, sauntering from the room without another look at David. What she did leave, however, was the grim realisation that he would be married within the month.
To the wrong woman.