Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

H ester drew back a step as the driver leaned down from his seat to open the door. Within the coach, she saw an elderly man lean forward and recognized him immediately.

Percival Fairchild, Duke of Middleton was a distinctive figure.

In his late middle years, his long face was that of a kindly grandfather. His smile caused wrinkles to appear around his eyes and seemed kind. She remembered being introduced to him at her debut ball.

Reassured that it was, in fact, him, she stepped forward and accepted the hand of the driver to ascend to the interior of the coach. She saw that his left leg rested on the seat opposite him and was swathed in bandages. He saw the direction of her gaze and smiled sadly.

"Alas, a touch of gout. The bane of my family. My doctor says I must forgo port, rich sauce, and cigars. I say that life without such things is scarcely worth living," then he fixed her with a direct stare, "and what brings you to this desolate spot, my dear?"

At first, Hester was unsure how much she should reveal. Would the Duke feel inclined to report back to her uncle if he heard something he did not like? Yet, at the same time, he may be able to help her find Arthur, and that was a risk she needed to take. Waiting any longer would undoubtedly alert her relatives of her absence. "I… I had arranged to meet a gentleman here," Hester replied with a waver.

"Yes, I know. Sir Arthur Binkley of Marsh Gibbon, was it not?" Middleton replied gently.

"Why, yes! But how could you know that?" Hester asked, narrowing her gaze.

"Because I am acquainted with Sir Arthur. I consider myself fortunate to count him as a friend. Now, my dear, this is not going to be easy for you to hear but hear it you must."

Hester swallowed, suddenly feeling as though the rug were being pulled from beneath her feet and she was falling. Despite that, she lifted her chin and firmed her mouth, resolved to face whatever fate was about to deal for her.

"Sir Arthur came to me about four days ago in a terrible state of remorse. He told me that he had indulged his emotions for a young lady of great beauty, intelligence, and sophistication, and entered into correspondence with her after a meeting at Goddington. That young lady was, of course, yourself."

Hester found herself smiling at the description. Middleton raised a finger as though to forestall her initial feelings.

"But, he is already engaged to be married."

The words fell from his lips like lead weights to thud against the floor. Hester felt her heart join those heavy words. She clutched her hands to her stomach. When she realized that she was sitting with her mouth open, she closed it hurriedly. She would not appear in such distress in front of a man who was almost a perfect stranger.

"Arthur is already engaged to be married," she repeated.

"An arranged marriage and not one of the heart, I must add," Middleton continued agonizingly slowly, "but an engagement that he cannot break. Because he does not wish to marry the lady he is engaged to, he committed the sin of indulging his daydreams with you. Of allowing himself to believe that he could have true love and a happy ever after. But, alas, when the time came, he knew that he could not do it. And he asked me how he should proceed, not wishing to hurt you further and not able to renege on the commitment he has already entered into, personally."

Hester blinked away the first treacherous tears, turning her head so that Middleton would not see. But, it seems, he missed nothing.

"Now, now. Here, take my handkerchief," he offered her a square of white linen embroidered with his coat of arms in the corners, "all is not lost. The reason I am here to deliver this upsetting news is that I have a proposition for you. It is highly unusual but one which would mean that you do not have to suffer the indignity of returning to the home of your aunt and uncle. A home in which I believe you are not at all happy."

Hester looked back at him. "How, pray tell, do you know of my life at Goddington?"

"From Sir Arthur," Middleton said kindly, "he was most insistent that I help you if I can. And, I believe that I can."

"How?" Hester's voice almost broke.

"Before I begin, please may I ask that you hear my entire story to the end. Listen to my proposal and give it serious thought. You will wish to dismiss it out of hand but I ask that you promise to listen first, then decide."

This was most perplexing.

Hester frowned, wiped her eyes and nodded, seeing no harm in listening to the mysterious proposal.

"I have a son. My only son, Dorian. He is Marquis of Langley which lies to the west of here near Cottington in Oxfordshire. He was married to a beautiful young woman named Sophia Bennett. The Kent Bennetts, are you familiar with the family?"

Hester shook her head.

"Well, my dear. You bear a striking resemblance to Sophia, who, sadly, is no longer with us. She passed away from the influenza after being married for less than a year. I understand that your parents were taken by the same illness?"

Hester nodded. It made her feel an affinity for Middleton and her son, knowing that they had lost a loved one in the same way that she had lost her parents.

"Dorian suffered greatly from her loss. It led him to purchase a commission in the Buckinghamshire Rifle Regiment and go to war in Spain, fighting the French. There, he suffered a terrible injury, and he spent many months recuperating at a monastery near Ciudad Rodrigo, in the west of Spain. I believed, as did the army, that he had been killed in battle. For a year, I believed that I had lost my only son."

At this, the kindly old man seemed to struggle with his own equilibrium. He put the knuckles of one hand to his mouth and turned to look out of the coach's window for a long moment.

Presently, he spoke again.

"Oh dear, where was I? Ah, yes, I remember. Dorian was found by a British Catholic priest visiting the monastery and the church arranged for his return to me. We are and always have been one of England's most prominent Catholic families and, I am proud to say, openly Catholic. However, I digress. I thanked God for Dorian's return, but he… came back to me a very changed man. He had lost his memory of everything that had happened from the point of Sophia's death. He did not remember joining the army or fighting. Crucially, he did not remember losing Sophia. I have for many months now pondered how to break the news to him. You see, he believes her to be still alive. I fear that his fragile mind will be utterly destroyed if he ever learns of the truth. Do you perhaps begin to see why I am so keen to meet you?"

Hester remembered his comment about her resemblance to Sophia and had jumped to a conclusion, but it seemed too ridiculous, too far-fetched to be real.

"You are surely not saying…" she began.

"That I wish you to impersonate Sophia. Yes, that is precisely what I ask of you," Middleton intoned solemnly.

"But, Your Grace, that is… why it's…"

"Ridiculous? Farcical? Mad? I agree. It is all of those things, but a father once bereaved will resort to the ridiculous, farcical, and mad, to save the life of his child once again."

"I cannot spend the rest of my life pretending to be Sophia Bennett!" Hester exclaimed, "Not least because the Bennett family themselves would surely get wind of it. They too have lost a child. It would seem a ghastly, macabre joke to them that the Fairchilds are pretending that she is still alive. I am sorry, Your Grace, to be so blunt, but I cannot see how it could work."

"Do not mistake me, Miss Haddington. I do not propose this as a long-term role. Merely until his mind has healed enough that his true memories return. His doctor says that this will happen over time but only if he is given a peaceful, calm, and safe place in which to recover. I can think of no place more peaceful and safe than his home with his wife. Now, as the healing takes place, you and I will need to be in close contact to discuss how we gradually remove you from your role, how we re-introduce Dorian to the truth. But, that is a conversation for a few weeks' time. In the immediate, my concern is for my son's recovery. I cannot break his heart by telling him the truth. I beg you, Miss Haddington. Do this for me. For us."

He squeezed her hand and water was eked out of the fabric to drip onto her skirts. Hester didn't notice. She looked into his imploring eyes, seeing all the pain of a desperate father. But one who has had his prayers answered once, had his son delivered to him from the dead.

"In return, I am prepared to offer you a new life."

"That is very generous, Your Grace. But my life is dependent on my aunt and uncle. There was nothing left of my father's estates and when I am once more Hester Haddington instead of Sophia Bennett, I will have nothing to my name once more. Except, I will have earned the eternal enmity of the Hasketts for running away. I will have nothing."

"Why, you will have your father's fortune, of course, Miss Haddington. I do not know why you believe there was nothing left. I must assume this is yet another aspect of the Haskett's villainy. The fortune of the Earl of Audley was renowned and cannot have been consumed by death duties. Nor can such a fortune have been consumed by the avarice of your father's sister and her husband. It surely exists, and I will use my considerable influence, wealth, and standing in court to ensure that you receive it. Then you will be free."

Hester found herself gaping once again, but this time could not stop herself. Her world had shifted, turned on its head. First, Arthur, and now her entire concept of her circumstances. Her aunt and uncle had lied to her for all these years. Keeping her inheritance from her while they enjoyed the fruits of it. Astonishment turned to anger and resolve.

"Very well, Your Grace. I accept."

"Thank you, my dear. But remember, you must never tell him the truth. Many a physician have strictly forbade me from it. For if he learns of it before his mind is ready to accept it, it may make him lose whatever remaining sanity he had left after the war."