Chapter Twenty-Three
Corbyn had laughed nearly all the way to Town. It was so rare that a man came out of anything entirely victorious. And yet, he had. He had secured Lady Beatrix and Monroe and Chester had been entirely defeated.
Never in his life had he enjoyed watching a villain get his comeuppance more than that moment. When Monroe understood that the jewels that were in his travel case were only paste, he’d almost collapsed over it. Corbyn only wished he’d been able to see Chester’s expression when he got the news.
He’d since returned to Portland Place. He could see Lord Chester’s mother and father, and the dowager too, were still in residence, but he did not see any sign of Lord Chester. Of course, Corbyn was not at home very often so perhaps he was there.
Corbyn spent most of his time in the house on Grosvenor Square or in his barouche with Beatrix, which had been sanctioned as long as he kept the collapsible hood down. Sometimes Lady Caroline came too, though Miss Sprite frowned on those outings.
Of course, Miss Sprite frowned on most things so he supposed it was no matter.
He had his solicitor act quickly to move things along with the earl.
He understood what a father would be concerned with and acted accordingly.
Beatrix was to have unlimited pin money.
Corbyn felt that was a nod of respect to the lady, as he did not believe she would ever be overly frivolous and take them to ruin.
He also ensured that her jointure was far more than was strictly required.
With those two matters resolved satisfactorily, the earl was agreeable to a special license and the arrangement of speedy nuptials.
They were to wed in the Grosvenor Square House in the late afternoon, have a merry dinner, and then he and Beatrix would set off for Portland Place to spend their first night together.
After that, they would proceed on to Sussex.
Beatrix was determined that they ought to repair to the small house his father had built by the sea.
If anything gave him pause, it was that first night together. Beatrix and Caroline really were exceedingly sheltered. He’d known it from her own words, but seeing Miss Sprite in action had really driven home the point.
Did Beatrix even know what was involved? For all he knew, Miss Sprite might have told her two charges some story about faeries arranging for a lady to become with child.
Farber straightened his neckcloth until he was satisfied with the results. “The carriage will be outside. Do not be late for your own wedding.”
He certainly would not be. As for the rest of it, he supposed nature would take its course.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix had felt fluttery and as if she could not settle anywhere all day long. She picked at her breakfast, then roamed from room to room. She hardly knew what to do with herself. She was getting married.
The time inched closer and now she was in her dress. Her marvelous dress. It was a cream-colored velvet with tiny red silk rosettes along the neckline and bottom of the sleeves. It was such a happy dress.
Lydia had done her hair marvelously and the countess had lent her one of her less showy tiaras.
There was a quick knock on the door and Miss Sprite came in. “Lydia, leave us alone. This will be my last time advising Lady Beatrix before she is wed.”
Lydia rolled her eyes at Beatrix but did as she was asked.
Miss Sprite pulled over a chair to be next to her at her dressing table, which was very odd. “The time has come to face what must be faced,” she said.
“Do you mean,” Beatrix said slowly, “being alone with Lord Harrelston? After we are married?”
“It will be ghastly,” Miss Sprite said, patting her hand.
“Ghastly?”
“I cannot pretty up the facts for you. It would do you a disservice to imagine all was well and then to be horrified later. You would not thank me for it.”
“But Miss Sprite, you have never been married…you will have never…” Gracious, she did not know how to say what Miss Sprite had never done.
“Praise be to God for that. My poor sister has told me all. Men are base creatures, when it comes to it. They’re forever clawing at you with their oversized paws. Except for the vicar and your father, naturally.”
“But Lord Harrelston does not seem base…or to have oversized paws.”
“My sister tells me that when you get up close, they smell, also. Very badly, I’m told. They breathe on you and it’s enough to slay a dragon.”
Beatrix was horrified. “But he doesn’t, what I mean is, Lord Harrelston smells rather good,” she said. “I have been up close. He smells like bergamot and orange.”
Miss Sprite looked a bit thrown off by that.
Then she said, “I imagine that is what lords do, they cover up their barnyard scent with expensive bought scent. I have all this on good account from my sister and I’ve had it confirmed myself.
Mr. Lechter, that awful little grocer, is always attempting to stand too close to me when I pause to speak to the vicar after church.
I will swear not one drop of water has touched that man since his baptism, never mind soap.
It’s revolting. His clothes probably stand up on their own without him being in them. ”
“Lord Harrelston is nothing like that, though.”
“They’re all the same, when you come down to it. Except for your father and the vicar. I only say, you’ve got to put up with it. It’s the only way to get a child.” Miss Sprite paused. “Though I’d be interested to know what our Lord was thinking when he made that arrangement.”
Beatrix could not be certain if Miss Sprite was totally right, a little right, totally wrong, or only a little wrong. The countess had told her nothing at all.
Of course she understood the basic idea of what was to occur, she had just never considered that it might be ghastly. What if it was?
“I do not like to advise overindulgence in spirits, as a general rule. But you might try it. Drink a bit more champagne than is strictly right. I’ll give you some laudanum too.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?”
“I do not see how else you are to get through it. But do not fret too much, that pawing at you will not go on forever. My sister tells me that after producing three children, she got fat. Then, a hair began to grow on her chin and she did not pluck it out, she just let it grow. That, in the end, was the answer. She goes on quite pleasantly these days.”
Beatrix was not certain what to do. She thought Miss Sprite’s sister must exaggerate.
Things could not be that bad. So many people got married.
Certainly, she would have heard about this before now.
On the other hand, what did she really know?
All she could the sure about at this moment was that she was nervous.
Miss Sprite took a vial from her pocket. “Not too much at one time. My sister says the lady must be awake throughout.”
Beatrix took it and took a sip. She put the cork back in and put it in her reticule. Hopefully, it would settle her.
“Well now, time to descend. The vicar will be here soon if he is not already. I’m glad we had the opportunity to talk.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As the sun set over Grosvenor Square, Corbyn wed Lady Beatrix. The drawing room was aglow in soft orange light, and he thought it was a good harbinger of things to come.
The earl had put on a fine dinner and they had enjoyed themselves. The white Bordeaux from Chateau Margaux and fine champagne had flowed.
He did notice that Lady Beatrix drank more than he would have expected her to be able to hold, but he imagined it was the excitement of the day. She was a newly married lady and it was to be expected that she might be nervous.
They finally set off for Portland Place and Beatrix was rather quiet. “You have nothing to fear, you know,” he said.
“Oh I know,” she said.
He was not too sure he believed that answer. They arrived to his house and he led her in. Farber was at the door, having sent the rest of the staff away. “Everything has been arranged, Lord Harrelston.”
“Oh my God,” Beatrix muttered. “Which room? Which room is yours,” she said, staring at the stairs.
“The last on the right, but I hardly think we need to go up—”
And she was gone.
He and Farber stared at one another. Farber shrugged. Corbyn thought he better follow her up the stairs. He wondered if she’d been suddenly taken ill.
He found Lady Beatrix standing next to his bed. “Do your worst!” she cried.
Then she promptly fell back on the bed, out cold like a boxer who had taken a hard hit on the jaw.
What in the world had she thought was his worst?
He sighed. Corbyn got Lady Beatrix out of her dress and underneath the blankets, which was no easy operation. He loosened his neckcloth and took off his coat. He took a seat by the window and drank a brandy. He supposed one never really knew what a wedding night would be like.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix woke slowly, by degrees. At first, she had snuggled under the blankets thinking how nice it was to sleep late. But then she noticed the blanket was not her own.
Yesterday’s events flooded back to her. She’d started with the laudanum, then added wine and champagne, then more laudanum. Miss Sprite was right, it had been very efficacious. She did not remember a thing.
She did notice she was alone in the bed. She peeked around the room and saw Lord Harrelston asleep in a chair. Still in the clothes he’d worn the night before. How could that be?
Beatrix sat up, and Lord Harrelston stirred. “Ah, there you are,” he said, “back in the land of the living.”
“Did you do it?” she asked. “You know…”
“Good God, no,” he said.
“Are you saying…we are to have a loveless marriage?” Beatrix asked, mightily confused. Where was all the pawing Miss Sprite spoke of?
“No, I am saying I would never have taken advantage of you in such a condition. A condition I am fairly certain I owe to Miss Sprite as there was some mumbling about that lady’s sister and her husband’s pawing at her.”