Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

OUTSKIRTS OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

H ow a simple thing like a piece of paper, a letter, could bring such happiness.

Rain lashed the small window of Hester Haddington's room. Outside, the sky was leaden with the promise of unending downpours. But as she read on, the sun shone in her heart.

She sat in the window seat, its upholstery faded and split. The window did not fit its casement properly and admitted a chill breeze. But Hester liked to sit there, regardless of the draught. She liked to look out at the world beyond Goddington Hall. The distant woods beyond the park and the town of Buckingham visible on the horizon, its peaceful spires of chimney smoke mimicking the slender grace of the church steeple at the heart of the town.

That world was largely unknown to her.

Since the death of her parents ten years before, she had seen little of it. Goddington, the home of her aunt and uncle, had become her home and her prison.

She flicked her long, golden hair back and absently rubbed at the small white scar that marred the porcelain skin of her right shoulder. Sometimes she fancied she could still feel the stab of pain made by the willow switch that had caused it, wielded by Aunt Phoebe. She began to re-read the letter that had been smuggled to her by Cousin Selina, her only ally at Goddington. The words set a warm glow within her.

My dearest Hester, I hope this letter finds you well. Words on paper are such a poor substitute for the sight of you, for holding your hand in mine, for holding your body close to me. I still think of that night at your debut when we danced. Then when we walked the halls of Goddington together and I had my first taste of what it must be like for you to be mine, to be shared with no-one else. The letters we have exchanged since that night have sustained me for a time, have made me feel close to you. But they are a poor substitute. Under normal circumstances, I should call on you at Goddington, we would take walks in the park, perhaps chaperoned by your cousin. I yearn for it but know that it is impossible. I should like to call out your uncle for holding you a prisoner, making you into a slave. I want to take you away from them. I cannot marry you without the permission of your uncle, as your legal guardian, as you are not yet one and twenty years old. But, we can run away together. I know that what I am suggesting is scandalous but it will enable us to be together and married in Gretna. I hope that I have not misjudged your heart. Based on your letters to me, I do not believe so.

If you are agreeable, then meet me at noon five days from the date of this letter. I shall meet you with my carriage. The location shall be the crossroads to the west of the Tingewick Woods outside the village of Barton Hartshorn. It is but six miles from Goddington. I trust this will not be too far for you to walk. I would suggest a closer location but fear that you may be seen by your uncle or one of his men. If another location is preferable, then write to me at once. If I do not hear from you, then I will be waiting at the crossroads at noon.

Your ever loving

Arthur

There was a gentle tap at her door. Hester knew that she didn't need to conceal the letter because only Selina would knock so diffidently.

"Come in, Selina!" she called.

The door opened and a slender girl of sixteen entered the room. Her hair was fiery red, the color of which she inherited from her father. She smiled hesitantly, then broader when she saw Hester's face. Hurriedly, she closed the door and ran to her cousin. Hester hugged her and made room for her on the window seat.

"I trust your lover has good things to say?" Selina whispered excitedly.

"He does. As always. In fact…"

Hester hesitated, unsure if she should disclose all to Selina. It was not that she did not trust the girl, but that it might put her into a difficult position when Selina's father, Baron Goddington, eventually found out.

"In fact?" Selina coaxed, seizing Hester's hand.

Her blue eyes were bright with excitement and Hester knew that she could not keep this a secret.

She did not want to.

Speaking the words aloud would make them somehow more real than being written on a page.

"He wishes to marry me!" Hester exclaimed.

Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. They were tears of happiness. Selina hugged her again, her own eyes wet.

"Oh, cousin! That is so wonderful. I am so happy for you! Will Papa give his blessing, do you think? Do you wish me to speak to him?"

Hester shook her head hastily. "He would not. I am sure of it."

That darkened Selina's expression. She knew the cruelty that her father and mother were capable of, though it was rarely directed at her. But she didn't like to be reminded of it, or how helpless she was to prevent it.

"Then how will you marry him? Unless…"

Hester was mildly shocked that her innocent cousin had realized what Arthur and Hester were planning. If permission to marry was withheld, then there was only one option remaining.

"We will elope," Hester whispered.

A thrill ran through her at the very idea. Selina's eyes went almost comically wide, as did her mouth. Hester laughed.

"It is the only way I fear. We will be married over the blacksmith's anvil at Gretna Green and once that is done, Uncle Timothy will be able to do nothing about it. Other than accept me as Mrs. Arthur Binkley."

"Oh my, Hester! What a scandal you will cause!" Selina exclaimed.

But there was a smile on her face as she did so. The idea of a scandal to her was one of excitement and drama. It was something that did not often reach into the parochial Buckinghamshire world of Goddington. She associated scandal with cities such as London, where all manner of sin was perpetrated.

"How may I help? We could pretend to Papa to be taking the trap into town and instead meet your beau! Where are you to meet him?"

Hester shook her head emphatically. "We shall do nothing of the sort. That would implicate you and I will not have that."

Selina opened her mouth to protest but Hester put a hand to her cousin's lips. "No, Selina. Absolutely not. Remember what I said to you all those years ago when first I arrived here? I was ten years of age and you were but seven?"

"You said that we must keep our friendship a secret. That Mama and Papa dislike you and would take pains to keep us apart if they suspected that I did not share their opinion," Selina said sullenly, "it is simply so unjust! I must smuggle your letters in and out of this house because of my beastly mother and father. I wish to tell them to their faces that treating their niece like a servant is wrong!"

"But your father is master of this house and neither of us has the power to challenge him. But, when I am wife to Sir Arthur Binkley of Marsh Gibbon, there will be no more mistreatment. Then we can be friends openly. I merely need you to be patient for just a few days longer. Maintain the facade that we are enemies since childhood."

Selina put her head on her older cousin's shoulder and Hester put her arms around her.

"It is so beastly," Selina complained.

"But almost over," Hester soothed.

So many times, growing up at Goddington Hall, Hester had soothed the younger girl after suffering the cruelty of Timothy and his wife Phoebe. She didn't understand its source. She had not asked to be their ward. That had been forced on them after the death of her parents from influenza. Timothy and Phoebe Haskett had resented her from the start, placing her in the smallest room of their Buckinghamshire home and making her carry out chores in place of a servant. The only concession she had been given was a debut at the age of eighteen. But that was for appearance's sake only. They had no intention of letting her take her place in county society or the London ton, both of which they were active members of. It did not help that her father had been practically bankrupt when he died. What little inheritance was left had to be given over in death duties, leaving Hester beholden to her wealthy aunt and uncle.

Until now.

"All will be well," she murmured, "the sun is breaking through the clouds at last, and life will be warm and sunny from today forth. You'll see."

Hester huddled within the shelter of a beech tree, an outlier of Tingewick Wood. It stood near the crossroads which signposted Preston Bassett to the south-east, Barton Hartshorn to the south-west, Tingewick to the north-east and Finmere to the north-west. It was the furthest she had ever been from Goddington Hall. It had been a wet and blustery walk which had taken her the better part of three hours. Fortunately, Goddington Hall was situated on hills above the village of Barton-Hartshorn, so it had been a downhill walk all the way, following the Padbury stream as it meandered along the valley. The Buckingham road was relatively straight and well maintained or her journey might have taken all day, had she been forced to fight through mud and waterlogged lanes. As it was, her dress was spattered and her cloak sodden. Her face was wet and cold, and she suspected bearing one or two drops of mud from the road also.

But none of it mattered. Arthur was on his way and soon she would be safe and warm in his arms. The branches above her swayed, the leaves making a hushed roar in the wind. She moved closer to the fissured trunk as rain was gusted under the protective canopy in a frigid spray. It must be nearly noon, she had timed her walk most carefully. The sun was obscured by a blanket of clouds but she could not be too far from the allotted time.

She waited.

And waited.

The rain ceased and the wind began to tear the cloud cover to tatters. It was with a small shock that she noted how far the sun had fallen from its noon zenith.

It must be between two and three o'clock by now! Where could Arthur be? Has he had an accident?

At that moment, as worry was knotting her insides, she saw a carriage pulled by a team of four horses, making its way out of the Tingewick Woods. Hope flared within her and she stepped away from the tree to the roadside. It was a fine coach, colored black and silver and driven by a man in the uniform of a footman. He slowed his team and brought the coach to a halt beside her. Hester looked up at the driver hopefully.

"Would you be driving Sir Arthur Binkley by any chance?" she asked.

The driver touched the brim of his hat to her. "I'm afraid not, Miss Haddington. His Grace, the Duke of Middleton, is within, and requests your audience."