Hurst Takes Charge (Take Charge #12)
Prologue
The Hursts lived in a new townhouse just north of Tottenham Court Road in one of the newer areas of houses for those deemed not tradesmen but also not part of the gentry.
Harold’s mother, Leticia, was very happy in their new home, which was rather spacious compared to the one they had before.
That house had been closer to Tower Hill, where the Board used to be.
As a youth, Harold had tutors who would come to the house to teach him.
Although he did not partake in too much physical activity, the young Hurst enjoyed learning, and he seemed to excel with art.
He could draw a face with a very good likeness after seeing it once or twice.
Even though drawing was considered a female accomplishment, Father encouraged Harold to hone his skills.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Ignatius Hurst was part of a group of men assigned to assess internal threats against the King, Queen, their family, and the kingdom. They worked out of the offices of the Navy Board and not one of the palaces, so they would not be seen by one who was watching the royals.
In November 1795, the Hurst patriarch uncovered a plot to kidnap the Prince of Wales and ransom him to his family.
According to the information gleaned, if his Highness saw the faces of any of his captors, they would send him back dead so they could not be traced.
The commander of those investigating potential issues, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, did not believe the threat was credible, so he refused to pursue the matter and ordered Hurst to stop wasting his time and cease investigating.
Something did not sit well with Hurst. He did not doubt Sir Lewis’s loyalty to the crown, but he suspected that, due to the fact the knight was hoping to be elevated—something his wife was demanding of him—he would not pursue anything he had not personally discovered.
Hence, Hurst kept looking into the information.
He discovered the date and time that the attempt would be made, so he bypassed Sir Lewis and went to see the general in charge of the Royal Guard at St James’s Palace.
General Hamish was well aware that Hurst would not raise this kind of alarm unless he was certain.
They arrested one of Prince George’s private secretaries who was in league with the criminals.
Once they had the man in custody—so he could not send information to the kidnappers—Hurst and four heavily armed soldiers rode in the coach, while the Prince of Wales was at Carlton House with two companies of Royal Guard, far from harm’s way.
Safe to say, the miscreants were either killed or captured, as were all of the co-conspirators.
At first, King George III wanted to charge Sir Lewis de Bourgh with treason, but Hurst had convinced the monarch that it had been a poor decision based on blind ambition rather than malice.
De Bourgh had been dismissed, his knighthood stripped, and he was sent back to his estate of Rosings Park in disgrace.
He had been lucky the Crown had not seized his land.
The King had wanted to elevate Hurst more than he ended up doing.
The latter had respectfully explained that if he was elevated to the peerage like His Majesty wanted, it would be harder to be of service.
As such, Ignatius Hurst was awarded a hereditary baronetcy, the estate of Winsdale—a relatively large estate with an income of six thousand pounds per annum—in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and a house on Curzon Street, just outside of Mayfair.
If all of that was not enough, Hurst was appointed to replace the disgraced de Bourgh as the head of the group of men.
Another thing the King agreed to was that the elevation would not be published, and it would not be spoken of until Sir Ignatius retired from the protection service. The new baronet was grateful His Majesty had agreed to his suggestion that his title was not to be publicly known.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Even though the nickname had, thanks to William Shakespeare, been used for Henry, Harold had been named Harry by his friends at Eton. He did not object to the name; in fact, he quite liked it.
Towards the end of November, an epistle arrived from his mother, which he thought rather strange given that it was less than a fortnight until the Christmastide term break.
In her previous missive, received about ten days past, Mother had written that she would not be posting another, as she would be able to tell all the news in person when he arrived home.
He broke the seal and began to read.
27 November 1795
My dear son, Harold,
I know you prefer Harry now, and I will become sanguine about calling you that soon, but for the first 14 years of your life, you have been Harold.
I am sure you are asking why there is no return direction scribed on this letter. That is because we are moving to an estate in the West Riding of Yorkshire—about 12 miles west of York—called Winsdale.
You must have, I am certain, many questions, but my son, they can only be answered in person. Your father will explain much to you.
A coach will arrive to collect you, as by the time you receive this, your father and I will be arriving in Yorkshire (I posted this at an inn along the way), and we will attempt to have the house ordered before you arrive.
This way, when you are collected by men you do not know and travel north, you will not think it is for a nefarious reason.
I am impressed that a noble, who is one year ahead of you, stepped in to assist you with some boys who tried to disdain you because (at that time) your father was not a landed gentleman.
You will, I am sure, tell me all about your new friend when you see me.
I look very much forward to your arrival at Winsdale.
With all my motherly love,
Mother
He scratched his head. They had an estate! How did this come about? Harry knew he needed to wait until he arrived at Winsdale to have his questions answered. He hoped that Father would think him mature enough to confide in him.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
On the fourth day of travel, the conveyance arrived at Winsdale. The coachman guided his team of four as they turned onto a gravel drive. This far north, there was already a dusting of snow on the ground, and the weak sun was powerless to melt it.
When he alighted, Harry could not but feel the bite of the cold. His parents were waiting for him just inside of the door, where his mother pulled him into a hug.
“Mother, I am pleased to see you too, but I am no longer a young lad,” Harry protested half-heartedly. He loved his mother very much, but that was at war with his attempt to be a man and no longer a boy.
“Fiddlesticks! You are my son, and even when you are much older than this, I will still hug you this way in greeting, so you had better become sanguine with that,” Leticia Hurst responded playfully.
She knew that Harold had to be educated, but she greatly missed not having her boy at home any longer.
“Enough, Lettie. Allow me to shake our son’s hand,” Hurst boomed.
Leticia reluctantly relinquished her son and stood back as the two men in her life shook hands. “Now, Harold, these are Mr and Mrs Adams, the butler and housekeeper. You will become familiar with them soon enough.” She turned to her housekeeper. “Mrs Adams, is Master Hurst’s suite prepared?”
“Aye, Mistress, it is,” Mrs Adams responded.
“In that case, I will show you up to your chambers, and, Ignatius, would an hour be enough before our son meets with us in the family sitting room?” Leticia asked.
“More than enough time. Go wash and change, Son. Your mother will point the sitting room out to you on the family floor,” Hurst agreed.
Even though he was sure he had only seen a fraction of the house, Harry was certain that the manor house was many times larger than their former London house. The stairs they took were wide and were a beige marble.
They did not stop on the first floor. “This is where some of the drawing rooms and parlours are, as well as my and your father’s studies. At the end of this hallway,” Leticia pointed down a passageway to her left, “you will find the library.”
Up one more flight they went to the second floor, where the stairs terminated. “Mother, are there not floors above us?” Harry enquired.
“Indeed, two more and then the attics. There is a separate staircase for guests which reaches those floors. Harold, as you can tell, this house is at least ten times larger than our old house. Additionally, the house in London we were given is about three times bigger than our former home,” Leticia related.
“Mother, I am astounded! An estate, a house in a much more fashionable area than where we lived. How did this come about?”
“Dear, you will learn it all soon. Here is your suite, and that door,” Leticia pointed diagonally across the hall, three doors down, “is the sitting room where your father and I will meet with you in a little under an hour.”
The Hurst heir’s breath was taken away when his mother opened the door.
The bedchamber was the largest he had ever beheld, and the bed was enormous.
But that was not all; he was shown his dressing room, a bathing room, and a sitting room next to his chamber.
On the other side of the sitting room was a second set of chambers to the one he would inhabit, only they were unoccupied.
One more surprise awaited young Harry when there was a knock on his door. His mother opened it, and she had a wide smile. A man stood without and entered when his mother nodded.
“This is Mr Lendell Holcomb, your valet,” Leticia stated.
More than anything else which had shocked him since his journey from Eton had begun, this one was the biggest. Boys like Hilldale had valets, even sons of wealthy landed gentlemen, but not him!