Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Marcus, Earl of Hatfield, slowed his horse, Hector, from a canter to a walk as he rode down the track from the Folly on the hillside toward the lake. He always stopped to look at the view. That morning, the lake glimmered in the early sunshine as the last tendrils of late summer mist drifted away.

Beyond the lake, was his ancestral home of Belvedere Abbey, with its turreted tower joined to the remains of a medieval wing. His grandfather had modernized the Abbey, adding the new wing, but Marcus loved the ancient part of the building, and the great hall with its minstrel's gallery.

There really is nowhere more beautiful than Belvedere Abbey in the autumn. I hadn't realized I missed the place till now.

Whoever had called the estate Belvedere had chosen well, as the views across the Chiltern Hills stretched for miles in the distance. On a clear day, a white horse, carved into the hillside way back in the mists of time, was visible from the folly.

There was a crispness to the air. This was the transition between summer and autumn, when the leaves were beginning to change color, but the sun's warmth still made a difference on days with a clear blue sky.

For a moment his thoughts wandered to his home in Italy, where he'd spent much of the last two years. After Napoleon was sent to the Island of St. Helena, he had left his regiment and settled in the rolling hills of Tuscany. He loved the heat of the Mediterranean sun, and the landscapes covered with tall cypress trees.

He had made a home in a villa there and when he had been summoned home he had expected to miss that life. The widowed Contessa Lucretzia Fiorella, who had shared many of his days, and given pleasure during many starlit nights, had spoken to him six months ago. He remembered her words and wondered if she had been able to see into the future.

"Caro, I am not for you. You are thirty-one years old, and it is time for you to take a bride and settle down. You are the son of a duke, and all great families need an heir."

"Lucretzia, I have no interest in the life of London society or farming a country estate in the gray mists of England. My life is here, in the heat of the Italian sun. I need you in my life. If it makes a difference, we could marry."

Lucretzia had tossed her long, blonde hair and laughed in her low sultry voice. "My dear boy, what would the Duke and Duchess of Hargrove say if you arrived at Belvedere Abbey with a wife who was ten years your senior and with a history of scandal in her past. No, I have enjoyed my time with you, but it is time for me to return home to my palazzo in Rome."

However hard he had tried to persuade the Contessa, she was adamant that their liaison was at an end. He had been desolate for several weeks, only roused from lethargy when a letter arrived from his mother, Elizabeth, Duchess of Hargrove, informing him that his father was ill.

The duke had suffered a seizure, and although he was recovering well, she felt it advisable for Marcus to return home immediately. So, he had closed the shutters on the Villa Montefalconi, and begun the journey back to the family estate in Buckinghamshire.

He waited on the brow of the hill for Colin, his cousin, to catch up with him. Even riding Hector at a canter, he had left Colin far behind.

"Come on," Marcus called. "We need to be back at the Abbey before tomorrow. I've an appointment with my tailor in the morning and at this rate I'll miss it."

"You know you've always been the best rider in the county, and nothing has changed there. Hera and I had no hope at all of keeping up with you."

Marcus looked down at Hera, his Italian spaniel, who was panting and clearly in need of refreshment. "Let's stop at the lake. Hera needs a drink and the horses could do with one too," he suggested.

Colin nodded agreement. "You're glad to be home?" he asked "I thought you'd never return from Tuscany. Aunt Elizabeth had quite given up on you."

"It's strange. When I read the letter from Mama, asking me to return post haste I didn't want to return. I had a life of ease and pleasure in Italy, but now I am back here it feels as if I'd never left. Belvedere Abbey is my home. I've even enjoyed overseeing the estate business; though I think Papa is itching to take that back, now his health has improved."

"You're right Marcus. I came looking for you this morning and found your father looking through a pile of papers that you'd left in the library," said Colin, smiling.

"I'll speak with Mama. It might help his recovery to take back some of the estate business again."

"She'll agree," said Colin and this time he couldn't stop laughing. "Aunt Elizabeth is very keen for you to put all your time and energy into finding a bride. She would rather you were dancing the cotillion at the assembly rooms than dealing with crop rotation at the Home Farm."

"Stop that now, Viscount Ludlow. If I have to endure a season of balls and recitals in town, then you can join me. I noticed that Mama has been spending a lot of time at Granville Hall visiting with your mother. There will be no escape."

"Unlike you Marcus, I rather enjoy a ball and dancing with a young lady of quality in my arms. It will be no trouble at all to join you in your ordeal." And with that Colin urged his horse forward toward the lake.

The early morning mist had cleared, giving a spectacular view of the shimmering waters of the lake. They entered Hargrove Woods and took the winding path down the valley side to the shore The gushing sound of the stream feeding the lake always surprised Marcus.

As he jumped off his horse and guided Hector to the stream, Marcus turned his head up toward the sky and felt drawn into a green canopy of fir trees, mixed with the ancient oak, ash and willow trees.

He heard a splash and saw that Hera had jumped in, her head just visible above the water. "Colin, how about a swim?" he called.

"Why not?" came the reply. The water is still warm enough." And with that Marcus jumped in the lake.

As his body met the water, he felt the coldness reviving every part of his body. He pushed through the cool, fresh water, enjoying the early morning swim. He heard a splash as Colin followed him, exclaiming about the cold.

"Nonsense Colin," he called. "It's lukewarm. Swim, it will help your body get used to it."

After that they relaxed into a pattern of swimming, then treading water, both enjoying the sensation with the contrast of the warm sun and chill from the lake in the early morning sunlight.

When they finally arrived back at the stables, they were intercepted by Mr. Pevensey, the Butler, who informed Marcus that his mother was waiting for him in the drawing room. Colin held his hands up, "No, Marcus. Aunt Elizabeth wants to see you and not me. I need to get back to Granville for estate business. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Very well cousin. Wish me luck," replied Marcus as he set off toward the drawing room.

He found his mother working at her tapestry frame in a room adjoining the drawing room. The door was open, and a blazing fire roared in the hearth. The sun shone brightly through the mullioned windows.

"Marcus. Where have you been? You're dripping wet. Stand away from the Aubusson rug," she implored him. "And why have you brought Hera into the drawing room when she is wet through?"

"I've been for a swim with Colin, and Hera is pretty much dry. Your rug is safe."

"A swim? The lake must be freezing cold this early in the morning. You can easily take a bath. I will never understand this desire to swim in cold water for pleasure. Now, let me think, what did I want to speak to you about?"

"Papa?" he queried.

"Ah, yes. Your father is clearly champing at the bit and feels ready to take back some of the less arduous estate duties. It was so encouraging to see him at the harvest dance in the big barn last week. He really does seem to have made a full recovery."

"All due to you Mama and your herbal potions and tisanes," said Marcus and he kissed her on the cheek.

"I remember, it was something your father said to me. He's worried about there being no heir."

"Mama. You know very well that I'm the heir to the dukedom."

"Well your father thinks it is time you married," she said, looking at Marcus with her almost luminous green eyes. Her blonde hair, pinned into a simple chignon, showed no signs of gray. "He has a point," she added.

"Oh Mama, he's already tried speaking to me about this matter, and I told him I have no desire to settle down in the immediate future."

"But …" interjected his mother.

"I will marry, Mama, but there is plenty of time for me to find a wife and produce an heir."

"I think it would help your father's recovery if you showed a willingness now to try to find a young lady, to bring home to the Abbey, as future duchess," his mother added. "Lady Cressida Lantham would seem a perfect choice."

"Mama, you are verging on blackmail by bringing Papa's health into this," exclaimed Marcus. "And as for Lady Cressida, I do not warm to her."

"But it is quite true," persisted his mother. "Your father would be delighted if you married. It would give his health a boost. Promise me that you'll spend some time in town in the spring and attend a few balls. You may find a young lady who would make a suitable bride."

"Very well Mama. If I am still in England in the spring, then I will attend at least 2 balls and 3 recitals. But beware, I will probably just offer for the first young lady who likes dogs and horses and has heard of the Greek gods."

"You and your classical civilizations. It's the future of this estate we need to think about. Ah, here is your father."

His father, no longer looking as gray and drawn as he had at the height of his illness, smiled brightly at his wife and son. His brown eyes twinkled, and it was difficult to believe that he had been so ill.

"Marcus, I was wondering about repairing that old boat which we used to have on the lake? What do you think?" his father asked.

"An excellent plan. I believe it is the best way of fishing for trout. Let's walk down there and take a look later."

"And did your mother tell you that it's time you found a wife?" his father added in his usual direct, blunt fashion.

"Indeed. I disagreed, but you were very persistent, weren't you Mother?" said Marcus, grinning.

"As always," said his mother, laughing.

Marcus went over to admire the tapestry his mother had been working on and compared the stitches with other quilts. He could see it was a work of beauty.

"This is exquisite, those colors go together perfectly," Marcus said.

His mother laughed again. "Many years' experience, sitting next to your grandmother. This is one of her patterns. Look here is a unicorn, in the forest, searching for a maiden."

"Grandmother was a wise woman," Marcus said quietly. "We're all searching for something."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with the cook about the menus for the rest of the week," his mother said, and she left the room with a scent of violets wafting around her.

"If you find a bride like your mother, then you'll be doing well my boy," said his father.

Marcus nodded his agreement, "One in a million. However, that doesn't mean I agree to find a bride, just that I am prepared to look."

"That's a start. That's all that's needed. I have every confidence that you will find someone when you least expect it," his father said, full of confidence.