Love in Jeopardy

   PROLOGUE

   Pain. A dark quality lurking always on the edges of his mind, a constant companion, acknowledged and accepted but partitioned and separated from other sensory perceptions. Thus, was it conquered, every aspect known, thoroughly explored and so deprived of the power to render him unconscious.

   Like the main road in any busy city where constant traffic etches deep grooves in the road surface, graven pathways for pain were etched along his nerve ways and at the slightest accident even now to his leg, great screaming signals flooded his brain. But he was sitting in peace now, his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the chair. Croft looked in and smiled, relieved to see his master relax. He had worked too hard recently.

   John Daverley was not relaxing, though. He was consc-iously releasing tension from his muscles, systematically acknowledging the agony, and banishing it to in a corner of his mind where he could live with it. Slowly the pain became just a presence, a dark familiar shadow in his awareness.

   Some while later, the door opened again, and bright light burst in upon the darkened room. The sufferer opened his eyes and levered himself up out of his chair. A smile of welcome transformed the haggard lines of his face into something warm and alive.

   “Stay where you are, fool,” a bantering voice chid him. “We don’t mean to disturb you. We’re leaving now. Have you any last-minute instructions?”

   He eased back into the chair again. “Take good care of her, James. She’s young, only eighteen. She will suffer a great shock when she meets me.”

●♥●

CHAPTER ONE

“They’re here Frances, I can see them.”

   A splendid cavalcade had just turned into the drive. The two Cavaliers at its head spurred forward to gallop the final distance to Elizabeth Harper’s home, Morden Manor. Behind them came a luxurious carriage, its green and gold coat of arms glinting in the sun.

Elizabeth leaned forward keenly to study the riders. This was the moment of truth. After years of careful preparation and waiting, her future husband had come for her. A small shiver of nervousness ran through her, making her fingers and toes tingle. The two men reached the steps, swept their cloaks aside, and dismounted.

   They made a dashing sight, but it was the taller of the two who commanded Elizabeth’s attention. This must surely be John FitzHarris, fifth Earl of Daverley. And from her vantage point, he looked just as she remembered him: young, vigorous and tall with flowing thick black hair.

   A wide-brimmed hat shaded his face from her view, its long colourful feather waving jauntily as he paced to ease the stiffness from his limbs.

   “What agony!” she whispered to herself, and her nervousness mutated into a mixture of excitement and deep anxiety. She would have to wait even longer for her first real glimpse of him.

   Below them, servants ran out and escorted the gentlemen into the Manor. Voices could be heard for several minutes before fading as a door closed somewhere downstairs.

   “Oh God,” Frances almost moaned in sympathy. “He’s here! I don’t know how you can remain so calm!”

   Elizabeth laughed. If only Frances could hear how her heart was pounding. She was anything but calm! But heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs and there was a discreet tap on the door.

   “Come in.” She straightened her shoulders and turned to face the door, summoning every scrap of composure.

   Edwards entered, his face expressionless.

   “Miss Elizabeth. Here is a parcel from your Lord Daverley. Lady Hilda says you are to complete the last alterations to your gown, and she will come to speak with you shortly.” Then the old servant’s face broke into a grin. He was incapable of containing the news he was carrying. “Your Lord has sent two real gentlemen to escort you, Miss Elizabeth. The one who entrusted this parcel to me asked me to tell you that it comes with deep regard and respect.”

   Frances gasped.

   Hurt flared in Elizabeth’s fine blue eyes, then her cheeks coloured with anger. But she raised her chin, determined not to betray those emotions to Edwards.

   The fact he had not come in person was immaterial. She was contracted into this marriage and would have to make of it what she could.

   She took the parcel with a smile. “Thank you, Edwards.”

   Once the footman had closed the door and she was again alone with Frances, her closest and most beloved friend, the façade slipped. “He still has not come, Frances! After all this waiting and anticipation.”

   Frances gave her a fierce hug. Then took her firmly by the shoulders. “I’m sure he has many good reasons for sending someone in his stead. As Edwards says, they are splendid gentlemen.”

   “I’m sure they are,” she replied. “He will be busy with the wedding arrangements and a house full of guests.” She glanced at the beautifully wrapped parcel, then flung it on the bed, and the blush in her cheeks burned hotter, sparking into mighty anger.

   “But he could have delegated those duties to someone else. More importantly, he should have visited me at least once since our betrothal. The fact he has not, speaks a great deal about him.”

   Frances’s usually gentle face hardened with unaccustomed determination, “Well! If I find him so thoughtless and uncaring, then I shall give him a piece of my mind!”

   “Will you?” Elizabeth looked at her cousin and laughed in spite of herself. Frances was one of the kindest and most forgiving people she knew. It was hard to imagine her upbraiding anyone in such an assertive manner.

   “I most certainly shall. But you ought not jump to such a conclusion yet, though.”

   “Perhaps you’re right, but it’s hard not to. He’s made no effort to meet me. I could be surly, ugly and the most unsuitable wife...”

   “You will be a perfect countess!” her cousin cajoled. “Nothing confounds you. Why, you have lived your entire life with Aunt Hilda, something I could not do. She reduces me to trembling jelly!”

   Elizabeth could not help but laugh at the truth of that statement, and her anger subsided. A strong and outspoken woman, Aunt Hilda had always disturbed the gentle Frances. But Elizabeth, a determined character in her own right, had thrived in her care and learned a great deal about house and estate management, and was prepared for the role ahead.

   She squeezed Frances’s hands, grateful beyond measure that her cousin was accompanying her to Daverley. In her heart, she knew she would need her kind and sensitive support in the days ahead.

   “Listen Frances,” she said, trying to articulate a doubt that had been preying on her mind for a long while. “Something is troubling me, and I’m too ashamed to mention it to Aunt Hilda.”

   “What on earth is it?” Frances asked anxiously.

   “I remember Lord Daverley very clearly from our first meeting, and everything I’ve imagined about my future is based on that encounter. What if I’ve been an absolute fool and built my hopes on wishful thinking and make-believe? He may be nothing like the man I believe him to be.”

   “You are no fool, Elizabeth Harper!” Frances insisted sternly. She was silent for a moment, then continued. “I know you were betrothed seven years ago and it must seem like for ever, but your memory would not play such an unkind trick on you.”

   “Perhaps not, but you must remember I was only eleven, nothing but a child, and I saw him through a child’s eyes.” Her vision turned inwards upon that oft-visited memory. She spoke slowly as she tried to bring those moments to life.

   “He had just returned from exile with the King. I remember he was dressed in the height of French fashion. He was very tall with dark hair and wonderful brown eyes that warmed with humour when he laughed.” She glanced at Frances and smiled, her natural positive attitude reasserting itself. “At least when I stand at his side, I shan’t appear so uncommonly tall. But I have oft dwelt on that memory and imagined the person he might be. The reality may be very different. He’s a total stranger, and I’m to be his wife in a few days.”

   “Perhaps it would be best to put those memories from your mind,” Frances suggested cautiously, “and travel to Daverley with no expectations and no preconceived ideas.”

   Elizabeth nodded. “You are right. I shall try.”

   It required a considerable effort to seal those memories away. But gradually her smile returned. “Shall we open his gift now? Then we can try the gown and veil together.”

●♥●

   Half an hour later, Elizabeth was gazing critically at her reflection. Her hair was a mass of fiery red curls, a dramatic splash of colour that reflected her personality. Her blue eyes were quiet and thoughtful, though, as she studied every aspect of her wedding attire.

   Fine Venetian point frothed from the low neckline that clung just off her shoulders. The long V shaped bodice was embroidered with gold thread and pearls, while the top skirts were bunched and pinned back with matching pearl and gold clips to reveal a silk petticoat embroidered with small knots of gold.

   Frances was arranging the skirts over the petticoat. “I’m sure he will fall in love with you immediately. He would have to be blind if he didn’t.”

   “You are romantic,” Elizabeth laughed and glanced at her cousin’s rapt face. “How he perceives me will depend upon how I perform as his wife. He has friends coming from all the courts of Europe to witness our marriage, so I shall be on show from the moment we arrive.” She turned to the beautiful gifts that lay on the bed and touched them with the tips of her fingers, longing to sense the personality of the man she was about to wed; a man who had steadfastly avoided her. “Let’s try these on now.”

   Frances lifted a corner of the lace veil, running it through her fingers. “It’s exquisite. It will go very well with your gown.”

   Together, they draped the veil over Elizabeth’s head and pinned it in place with his second gift, a small pearl and gold hair net.

   A wave of anticipation spread through her. She drew herself up tall and looked for Frances’s reaction in the mirror. But a wistful expression had spread across her cousin’s face, and it wiped the joy from her heart. It shocked her to realise how self-centred and cruel her behaviour had been. She was going to an assured, wealthy and fashionable life. There was nothing so certain ahead of Frances.

   Their eyes meet in the mirror, and tears shone in Frances’s eyes. “I shall miss you so much, Lisa. Whatever am I going to do when you are gone?”

   “But you are coming with me.” Elizabeth took her cousin’s hands. “And you must make the most of those weeks. There will be a great gathering of people at Daverley this month and…”

   “Perhaps,” Frances said. “But one month is not enough time to forge even the most basic of relationships. The likelihood is that I shall return here with absolutely no marriage prospects. I will meet no one other than the local gentry and all they want from life is to raise a dozen children and talk about their boring crops.”

   “It need not be like that,” she insisted, and squeezed the hands in hers. “Chris is joining Prince Rupert’s staff next year and has promised that you and Aunt Mary can stay with him at court. You couldn’t ask for a better introduction than that.” She sighed and examined every feature of her cousin’s pretty face with its chestnut hair and limpid blue eyes, and she touched Frances’s cheek. “It would be wonderful if you could find a husband who likes you for the person you are.”

   A tiny blush crept up Frances’s face and she nodded. “That’s what you would have liked too, isn’t it, Lisa?”

   Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “What I would have liked is immaterial…”

There was a tap on the door, and it silenced their conversation. Elizabeth turned and called, “Come in.”

   An austere elderly lady entered the bedchamber and Frances stiffened unconsciously. The family likeness between all three was marked. The strict older woman caught Elizabeth’s eyes, and her face grew hard with anger. “This is not how I had intended this day to be, Elizabeth. I am mortified.”

   Elizabeth’s heart contracted. “I…” But then her voice became husky with a rush of vehement indignation. “It’s as you have always said, Aunt Hilda! We are mere women! Our hopes and expectations account for nothing in this world.”

   “I must admit, I had expected more of him. But it appears he has been unwell in recent months and cannot yet travel.”

   Elizabeth paled. “What has befallen him, Aunt Hilda?”

   The older woman’s eyes flamed with wrath. “Thanks to the two fools downstairs, I cannot give you a considered opinion. They are nothing but empty-headed buffoons who refuse to tell me the truth of the matter! Oh, I wish I was coming with you, child. You should not have to face this alone. But I could never undertake such a journey...”

   “You must not even consider it,” Elizabeth interrupted, knowing the debilitating effect travel had on the older woman. “I shall have Frances for company and support, and Kate is accompanying us as chaperone.”

   “I sincerely hope, Frances, that you will provide Elizabeth with the support she needs.” Aunt Hilda bent her compelling gaze on her other niece, who paled under the weight of it. Then she turned back to Elizabeth and examined her from head to foot. “Is this the gift Lord Daverley sent you?”

   Elizabeth nodded and turned around, gracefully displaying the veil and hair net. “Are they not exquisite?”

   “Yes, indeed.” Lady Hilda smiled and then chuckled. “Don’t move so quickly, child!”

   She grasped her niece by the shoulders and turned her around once more. Although Elizabeth was the taller of the two, it was the older woman who dominated the room. The hawk-like eyes scrutinised her sharply. “Hmm. He is a discriminating man. Now, you had best take the gown off before it gets dirty.”

   Elizabeth smiled, perfectly accustomed to the abrupt organising manner.

   Aunt Hilda’s powerful eyes then settled upon Frances, and the nervous young girl visibly wilted. “And have you finished your packing yet, Frances?”

   “N… not completely, Aunt Hilda,” she stammered. “But I have only the last-minute things to do.”

   “Then I would suggest you complete those tasks now. James will drive you home and bring you back tonight with your baggage. You can sup with us and sleep the night here.”

   Frances dropped a curtsy to her aunt, called goodbye to Elizabeth, then she made her escape.

   Meanwhile, Elizabeth dressed once again in her house clothes and packed her wedding attire with infinite care.

   As she folded down the lid of the box, Aunt Hilda placed a gnarled hand upon Elizabeth’s. “I sincerely hope Lord Daverley recognises the skills and strengths of the wife he has chosen. Come, I have something to give you. They were your mother’s, and she wanted you to have them.”

   Elizabeth was swept along to the old lady’s austere bedchamber, and stood uncertainly in the doorway. She had never known her parents. Her entire family had perished in the terrible civil war that had ravaged the country. Their possessions had been confiscated and records of their existence expunged so that their memory lived only in the hearts of their friends.

   Aunt Hilda beckoned her into the chamber and the habitual hawk-like eyes softened as she studied her niece’s expressive face. “This, Elizabeth, is your heritage.”

   She took the casket, opened the lid, and gasped. The sparkle of fine green gems dazzled her. In awe, she lifted a splendid emerald necklace, a brooch and a pair of earrings from the bed of satin and hurried to the window where she could examine them in the bright sunlight.

   “I recognise these,” she breathed. “Are they not the emeralds my mother was wearing when the portrait downstairs was painted? They’re beautiful!”

   “Yes child. They have passed down through the family for generations. I remember my mother wearing them, and then Anthea, your Mama. You have her colouring, and they will suit you as they did her.”

   Elizabeth cupped the necklace in both hands and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to sense the spirit of her dead mother. Fierce and strong, Anthea Harper had been a courageous woman, protecting her family to the very end of her life and refusing to betray her friends. Her loyalty to Lady Daverley had enabled Lord Daverley and his son to continue fighting until the very moment the Royalist effort had collapsed. And it was the son she was soon to marry.

   “Wear them with pride,” Aunt Hilda was saying. “Women who have worn them have led extraordinary lives.”

   Elizabeth looked at her aunt for a long moment, then broke the custom of a lifetime and hugged her. “I shall treasure them, Aunt Hilda. And I shall miss you more than you will ever know.”

   Her aunt’s eyes sharpened. “Come, come, Elizabeth. You must be strong and firm as you take up the reins at Daverley. It’s a heavy responsibility, and not for the sentimental or faint hearted.”

   “I will do my best.” But it saddened her that Aunt Hilda would not accept her affection. It was as though she saw it as a sign of weakness.

   “Your first objective,” the older women continued relentlessly, “is to obtain the good will of your husband. Your lifelong duty is to care for your estate and people. Now run along, child, finish your packing, then you will have the afternoon free.”

   Elizabeth returned to her bedchamber, but her packing was done, and the chamber was bleakly bare. She hugged her arms, trepidation welling up inside her at the scale of the challenge that lay ahead. Just then, there came a tap on the door. “Come in.”

   A smiling plump maid entered and bobbed a curtsy. “Mr Christopher has called to see you, Miss. He’s downstairs in the hall.”

   “Thank you, Mary,” she said, and her spirits revived at the thought of taking her beautiful mare for a ride in her cousin’s company. “Please tell him I shall join him in a moment.”

●♥●