Beyond the Perished Woods

Chapter 1

Amaidservant was arranging the tea service as Charlotte Fairfax was led into the luxurious drawing room at Edenbridge Hall. It had been many years since Charlotte had visited the grounds of this particular estate, but at the moment, she was in desperate need of sympathy from the master of this wealthy house.

Lord Reginald Harrington awaited his guest’s arrival, his back to the room as he stared contemplatively through expansive French doors. The room was grand, with rich oak floors, imported rugs, thick, velvety curtains, and portraits of the Harrington family—most of whom were long since dead. Lord Reginald was one of the very last Harringtons, and he was surrounded by the vestiges of a family line that had been wealthy for generations. That is not to say Lord Reginald did nothing to secure and steward the family’s wealth. This was a shrewd man. All the same, he had no reputation for lacking in generosity. He was a clever businessman and an even more clever scientist and local politician. These aspects of Lord Reginald’s interest were perhaps the reasons he had never had an heir nor wed. Charlotte remembered him as a man whose focus had been consumed solely by his work.

Today, he looked much as he had for the past 50 years. The clothes he wore were tidy and well-pressed. They were tailored but not extravagant in their nature. His hair was inherently a wild tangle of grey, but, as a gentleman, he took care in its styling. All these things were trifles to him, unimportant save for the fact that he cared to present himself as a serious man.

Even now, his thoughts were not on entertaining. He was gazing out those doors—deep in contemplation about some old novel perhaps, or even an experiment left simmering in his lab. Had Lord Reginald been attending to his guest, he’d have seen Charlotte’s practiced composure and grace as she crossed the room. It was the start of a beautiful performance. Every aspect of which had been rehearsed a hundred times over—right down to the costume.

Charlotte’s dress was expensive and well-cut, even if it happened to be two seasons out of date. Though well into her forties, or perhaps even her fifties—by some accounts (though not Charlotte’s herself), she was lovely. Her beauty endured, as did her charm. Her hair was done up in the most modern style—dark curls elaborately piled and pinned atop her head, decorated by a gold and emerald comb placed at an artful angle. Her makeup was applied with the proficiency of a woman who knew that beauty was one of her greatest assets. Gliding into the drawing room, she was the picture of society—homage to the most polished class.

Charlotte’s voice sang out, calling Lord Reginald’s attention away from his view of the outdoors. “Lord Reginald! I was delighted to receive your reply to my letter! I can’t tell you what joy it brings me to be back at Edenbridge after all these years.”

Lord Reginald turned, revealing a man well into his 80s. Aged as he was, Lord Reginald stood tall and strong. He was a pillar of a man, possessing strength of character and mind. Though he always was an aloof sort of fellow, he was well-loved by the people of Winstonshire—one of the largest villages to lie on the northern border of the Perished Woods.

A soft smile came to the old man’s lips. “Charlotte. The last time you were here—” He searched his mind, but Charlotte was quick with her reply.

“I was a girl of 15 and about as willowy as the trees out on the lawn.”

“You have been a beauty at any age, Charlotte. That I am sure of.” He took the woman’s hands and held them warmly. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

“I’m sure that you were, Lord Reg?—”

“Please, no titles, dear. Call me Reginald.”

Charlotte smiled and allowed herself to be led to one of the exotic, embroidered chairs by the fire. The maid set a porcelain cup and saucer by her side as Lord Reginald took a seat across from her.

“Did you wish for spirits, Charlotte? I can have Mary fix you a drink if you would prefer it.”

“Tea is fine.”

“I don’t drink these days,” he told her.

“I don’t recall you ever drinking,” Charlotte replied, her eyes teasing.

He smiled as if they were sharing a secret. “Yes, I forget who knows that about me. It is such a popular custom to drink. There is an annoying reaction of surprise when one says they don’t. Makes me feel as if I have the plague—that’s the reaction I tend to get. Though I must admit, it is not so bad now that I’m older.

“Is that so?”

“I think there is a tendency to assume the elderly have feeble constitutions and don’t get so many questions about why I haven’t got a whiskey in hand anymore.”

“The benefits of aging,” Charlotte replied, raising her teacup to Lord Reginald.

“Don’t age yourself, my girl. You are still a young woman.”

“I suppose that depends on who you ask.” She grinned, but the smile faded. “I am not as young as I used to be.”

“To Hell with being young. Youth is for the emotionally unstable.”

This was not the direction Charlotte wished for Lord Reginald to take. “Don’t you think the young are so wonderfully vibrant?” she asked. “Beautiful and fresh, representing vigor and new beginnings.”

“The young are foolish, angry, and short-sighted.” He stared at Charlotte for a long while, his face kind and amused. “But you didn’t come back to Edenbridge Hall just so you could hear the musings of an old man?”

“If I did?”

“Offering me a captive audience, are you?”

“And why not? Perhaps I am tired of the superficial leanings of society.”

“Well, if that is the case…I would tell you about the state of politics in this region. Speaking of youth! You wouldn’t believe the disorganization among the younger generation of politicians,” he lamented, relaxing into his seat.

Damn, Charlotte thought. What if he is one of those old men who hate the young? She kept on her most charming smile. “And I wonder what the younger generations have to say about our particular age demographics.”

He snorted. “Stop it right now. You and I are not in the same demographic, and you know it. As for the men I speak of, they are an oblivious lot. I hardly think they have an opinion about me one way or the other. The problem is that their focus is so damned narrow, they don’t see the larger picture—and they certainly don’t see how the smaller pieces of the machine move a greater whole.”

“From what I hear, the majority of the council work falls on your shoulders.”

Reginald grunted, giving a shrug. “I’ll give them this: they don’t mind defaulting to authority. But I tell you, Charlotte, it leaves a man filled with concern. What will become of the council once I am dead? Who will step up to take my place?”

“I venture that no one could take your place. It will take many men to fill the role you took on by yourself.”

“I see.” He raised his brows. “You came here to flatter me.”

“In the name of transparency, I admit that I did.”

“In the name of transparency, I am glad. A man needs a little flattery now and again. But let’s get down to it, Charlotte, dear. Why have you come to Edenbridge?”

The shift in her seat was nearly imperceptible. In all her practicing, Charlotte had assumed that Lord Reginald would play his part. She should have known better. This was not a man who conformed to society’s rules. Still, Charlotte had work to do.

“You were never one to dance around the point.”

“A fact that is even truer in my old age. I’ve neither the time nor the knees for dancing. Tell me, why have you absconded from your lavish life in the capital?”

“I wished for my daughter to see Edenbridge.” Charlotte shrugged. “This house reminds me of my youth, and now that Victoria has finally returned home, I think it is better for her to be in a place like this. It suits her temperament.”

Lord Reginald rubbed his fingers across his stubbled jaw, reaching back into his mind. “Your daughter…she had gone abroad years ago with her father?”

“That’s right.”

“The man’s name was George, wasn’t it? He was a merchant. A self-made man.”

“Your memory is infallible, Reginald. Yes. My George was a self-made man.” Her sigh was heavy. “Such men come with…complications.”

“How so?”

“The adventure, the ambition, it never left my George. He itched to be out on the ships with his men, traveling to new lands, brokering all the deals himself. It was a successful operation. It could have run without him; it could have run better without him, as a matter of fact.”

Charlotte was bitter still that her husband had loved his work more than their life together. In that way, they had never been compatible. George loved his wife and his daughter very much. But he was not satisfied with a luxurious and pampered lifestyle. He needed adventure as much as Charlotte needed the capital, her friends and their parties, access to her favorite dress shops, rich food, and servants. She was particular in that way. As was George. As was their daughter.

“Devon Ainsworth told me the news,” Lord Reginald said. “Lost in a storm?”

Charlotte let out her breath, but her back remained stiff. “I was lucky. Victoria was on that ship with her father. The whole thing could have been lost, but the Gods granted my daughter life. They brought her back to me.”

“She’d been traveling with George then?”

“Victoria had been traveling with her father since she was 10. As a child, she had her father’s spirit—longing for adventure. George didn’t see anything wrong with bringing his little girl along for the ride. She had her tutor, of course, and a lady attendant.”

“What a unique upbringing for a child.”

“Perhaps I should have been stronger and demanded she remain in the capital. But they were so similar, you see. And Victoria and I…we never…”

“Mothers and daughters tend to clash,” Lord Reginald said matter-of-factly.

“We clashed,” Victoria agreed, allowing some of her true remorse to show through. She recovered her smile. “It has been better since she’s been home. My daughter has grown into a woman.”

“How long has she been back?”

“Near to eight months now. Her journey home was long. It took two years.”

“That must have been a terrible wait.”

“It has been a trying time for us both.”

“And George’s business?” Lord Reginald was direct in a way that most people wouldn’t be. He was asking about their financial situation.

“George’s business was lost when George was. The moment news of his death came to the capital, stocks plummeted. All the ships had to be sold off. Poor Victoria, she only made it back thanks to the loyalty of George’s men. They saw her home, even though she didn’t have a coin in her purse.” She did not mention that their home was in foreclosure and their furniture, all their nice things—taken by debt collectors.

“Where is Victoria now?”

There was strain on the mother’s face. “Victoria is exploring the grounds.”

Reginald laughed. “That is quite adventurous indeed. You know, most young women fear this estate—as it edges right up to the woods.”

“The cursed woods,” Charlotte said playfully.

“They don’t frighten you either?”

“I don’t believe in fairy stories anymore, Reginald. Perhaps at 15, but not now. Not when real life has shown me what horror truly is.”

“Indeed,” was all the man said. His eyes were scrutinous, and they studied Charlotte’s face.

“Victoria and I have been getting to know one another again. The capital bores her. She is still very much like her father. I thought perhaps I could offer the girl a bit of an adventure by bringing her down to Edenbridge. I certainly had all my best adventures here.”

“I am glad you have such fond memories of the place. But I’m afraid it isn’t as interesting as it was in the old days. The house is quiet now. We never have guests anymore.”

“That suits Victoria.”

“It does not suit you, however.”

Charlotte laughed. “You know me well, Reginald. My social life is everything to me—it has been my lifeline through many difficult years.”

Silence stretched. The old man was thinking. “How well does Edenbridge truly serve your daughter, Charlotte?” He wore a skeptical expression.

“Very well. She was delighted when I told her we would be traveling. Respite, she called it…now that the season’s parties have concluded.”

Lord Reginald nodded knowingly. “She didn’t make a match then?”

Charlotte tried to sound bright and cheery, but there was obvious tension in her body if not her words. “Victoria has particular tastes.”

“And no dowry.”

“And no dowry,” Charlotte agreed flatly.

“How old is the girl?”

“She’s 24.”

Lord Reginald grunted in disapproval. “So young.” He did not care for the young.

“Not so very young in terms of marriageability.”

Society holds such foolish opinions on age and marriage, Reginald thought from his advanced vantage point. In his opinion, a woman of 24 was hardly more than a child. Still, he knew the importance of a good pairing, particularly in the case of the woman. A man might have his own fortune or, at the very least, ample opportunities to secure one. But a young lady, she was entirely dependent on the care and protection of a gentleman. “Get on with it, Charlotte. Tell me what you really want, won’t you? Why have you come to Edenbridge? Why share your trials in matchmaking with a dull country gentleman like myself?”

“You are so very blunt, Reginald.” She shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep her smile in place. “Fine. If this is the way you would like to do it. I have come to Edenbridge to ask if you will marry my daughter.”

Lord Reginald’s brows rose very high on his wrinkled forehead, and they remained so as the old man shifted from genuine surprise to a deep belly laugh. “Of all the suggestions!”

Charlotte huffed. “There was a proper way to go about this, but seeing as you have circumvented custom, I will tell you this about Victoria: she is a beauty—the best of her mother and father combined. She’s smart too. She is not one of these young girls whose head is filled with drivel. She’s got sense about her. She hates the city and anything superficial. It was a relief to her when I told her I’d written you. The country suits her. Solitude and silence suit her. You would suit her.”

“I most certainly would not! Charlotte, I am an old man. A stubborn old man at that. All my life, I have been set in my ways—I care nothing for romantic companionship. I care for politics and science. I’ve neither the time nor concern for anything else.”

That wasn’t completely true, however. In Lord Reginald Harrington’s advanced years, he had begun to care about more than intellectual prowess. He had begun to care very deeply about family. Perhaps it was the fact that his line was quickly diminishing. There were few Harringtons left. Had he paid greater attention to this fact as a young man, he might have been a better steward of the family. Alas, it came to his attention too late, and in recent years, he found himself immersed in correcting the errors of his youth.

“The relationship wouldn’t have to be romantic in nature,” Charlotte offered. “I am not asking that you babysit her.”

“I cannot fathom a young woman condoning this.”

With an unwavering gaze, Charlotte went on, “Whether my daughter wants a husband or not, she needs one. We are on the verge of complete ruin.”

Reginald pushed out of his seat and strode to the fire. “This is a cruel thing you do to the child—disgusting even.” He scrubbed his hand across his forehead. “I can understand making attempts to avoid financial devastation, but why force a child of 24 to marry an elderly brute like myself? It’s immoral!”

“Twenty-and-four is hardly a child, Reginald!”

“Compared to eighty-and-five, it is indeed! And anyway, I cannot see why you force this upon her. As the mother, one would think…”

Charlotte rose now, and she found herself drawn by the French doors. Somewhere out there on the grounds of Edenbridge was her daughter—a virtual stranger to herself. Their temperaments were so very different, and the girl’s upbringing so…uncommon. And yet, she loved Victoria fiercely and knew in her heart that there was not a single person in the world she would rather face this hardship with. She was grateful, really, for the strength of her daughter’s spirit. Another girl would grow melancholy and despair over her circumstances. Then again, another girl would have tried harder to find a husband during the capital’s social season.

“Of course I have thought of that! If not for George. His body was lost. According to law, without a burial…” Charlotte huffed. “I cannot marry for ten years. Believe me, if I were eligible, I would seduce you myself.”

Lord Reginald gave a disbelieving laugh. He was not a man to be persuaded by seduction.

“We haven’t the resources to wait.”

“Surely there must be a better-suited match somewhere.”

“Victoria…doesn’t wish to have a husband.”

Lord Reginald turned suddenly; he was beginning to comprehend. “That is why you came to me?”

Charlotte nodded. “You are a bachelor at heart. You have been all your life. I know you have no desire for a wife. But do you have the resources to take on a couple of destitute women? Are you sympathetic by nature? I think so.”

Lord Reginald was rubbing his forehead again. This was a troubling development. He had not been prepared for it.

“Come now. We are practically family as it is. Would you really turn your cousins out onto the street?”

He lifted his gaze, amused. “Your mother’s sister married a second cousin of mine. I don’t know if that makes us cousins.”

Charlotte lifted her chin. “I’m sure that it does.”

Reginald laughed and joined her by the doors. Amongst the faraway trees, there was a young woman moving solemnly, in and out of sight.

“You have always been easy to talk to,” Charlotte told him. “I knew if I came here, there would be no games, no pretense, nor coercion.”

“I never have given a damn about conforming to society’s standards. Be blunt and hurry along with it, is my motto.”

“Then this is the gist of it: We’re broke, Reginald. At worst, we require a little over six years of support. It needn’t be much. A room here at Edenbridge Hall would suffice. I can stay out of the way, with friends in the capital.

“Once the six years have passed, I can marry again, and your union to Victoria can dissolve.”

“If I am around that long.”

“I’ve no doubt that you will be around for a long time to come.”

Lord Reginald sighed, his eyes searching for the girl among the trees. “Six years is an eternity for a young woman. Victoria will grow discontent. She will regret not marrying a man her own age.”

“If she does, it will be a great shock to me. She’s shown no signs of desiring romance.”

“That’s abnormal, don’t you think?”

“She’s an abnormal sort. I blame George for that. The girl was raised on the sea with sailors as her best friends and playmates. They doted on her, that’s for sure. But it didn’t do the girl any favors. She’s strong-willed and single-minded.”

“The truth comes out,” Reginald teased.

“The truth is, she had half a dozen offers for marriage, and she declined them all. Some of them were very good matches, too. Wealthy, intelligent, handsome young men from good families.”

“What reason did she give?”

“They were boring. Dull. Their hands were too soft. She claimed that some of them were more beautiful than she and that they spent more time on their hair. I told her she couldn’t marry a sailor.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She laughed and claimed she’d rather marry the sea.”

“Ah! Young Victoria would rather be self-possessed than possessed by another.”

Charlotte gave him a sideways glance. “Not so different from someone I know.”

“Indeed, I can relate.”

“And that is why you are the perfect match.”

The words soured Lord Reginald’s expression. “I know what Victoria thinks she wants. But the opinions of the young are mercurial. It seems so very cruel to bind her to a man of eighty.”

“It would be crueler still to turn her out onto the streets. Help us, Reginald. Victoria may be an adult woman, but she is lacking in so many ways. Her father is dead—and when he was alive, he did her no favors. Without a sensible father figure, she has developed no understanding of the real world. She thinks everything should be lofty adventures, void of consequences. That girl needs you for more reasons than one.”

“She will be lonely here. There is only myself, a few servants, and…my nephew, Elias.”

“A nephew? I don’t recall any nephew of yours.”

“No, you wouldn’t. He was never introduced to society as he was the illegitimate son of my youngest sister, Arabella.”

“I do remember Arabella…” Charlotte said thoughtfully, and upon that remembrance, she then understood why the parties at Edenbridge Hall had come to an end.

“How old is he now?”

“He is thirty, but don’t get any ideas. All of us here are poor company—Elias in particular.”

“Neither of us need to worry about Elias in that sense. Recall that Victoria has no desire for a husband. She won’t look twice at the young man.”

Lord Reginald muttered, “I’m not so sure as to that… The point of the matter is this: When I am home, I spend the majority of my time in my laboratory, and days go by without Elias gracing us with his sour disposition. Your poor daughter would be virtually alone much of the day.”

“Victoria entertains herself with books, and Edenbridge Hall has quite the extensive library, if my memory serves me.”

“Indeed, it does.”

Charlotte gave a sly smile. “That was one of the main selling points in getting Victoria down here. That and the countryside. The girl likes to wander.”

“Wandering can be dangerous, so close to the cursed wood.”

Charlotte’s smile slipped. “Fortunately, Victoria has learned to fend for herself. For a young lady, she is uncharacteristically good with a rapier.” Charlotte was also aware that her daughter could throw a punch as well as any man, but she kept that to herself—hating to recall the embarrassment of the culmination of a dance they had attended at the Devonport family’s great house in the capital. Further, Charlotte refused to acknowledge the short blade Victoria kept strapped to her boot at all times. It was almost too much to have a daughter raised as a common sailor. Luckily, her beauty helped her pass as a young lady.

Lord Reginald’s eyes widened in appreciation when Victoria’s skill with the sword was mentioned.

“What do you say, Reginald? Sacrifice your long-standing bachelorhood to rescue a couple of destitute women? We are a sad, strange little party, but we would forever be in your debt.”

Reginald consulted the fire, losing himself in his thoughts. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to have a young lady about the house. A darkness had descended after Arabella’s death, and that darkness had never lifted in all the years hence. Lord Reginald knew that it was women, and young women in particular, who seemed to possess that magical ability to bring light where there is only gloom. Elias would be furious, of course. But it would be good for him. The young man was dangerously set in his ways—and monstrous in his manners. Could the introduction of Charlotte and Victoria to the house impart some sort of change?

Often, Lord Reginald worried about what would become of his nephew after he left this world for the next. Truthfully, much of the lord’s worry centered around his nephew—and consequently, so did his work.

Elias would be furious. Still, he gave Lord Reginald reason enough to agree to this fantastic arrangement.

He turned to Charlotte. “It would be a falsehood to have you believe this agreement would not be of mutual benefit to myself—to this household as a whole.”

“Then you do agree?”

“Indeed. I would be honored to offer my protection to you and Victoria both—if you would grant Edenbridge Hall the pleasure of your company for these next six years.”

“Reginald, you have saved us!” Charlotte declared, taking his hands in hers—pressing them warmly.

“In truth, you save me from a labor I have been avoiding—even blind to. A man such as myself should never be left on his own to run a household.”

“What an unfair assertion! You speak as if you have allowed Edenbridge Hall to fall into disrepair, but it is as beautiful and well-tended now as it was in my youth. Perhaps some of the windows need opening, but that is a trifle of a thing.”

“It will take more than sunlight to brighten Edenbridge. This house has been wanting a feminine influence for many years.” He considered this deeply, feeling more and more certain of the path forward. “Ours is a strange arrangement, to be sure, but our needs have aligned in the most fortuitous of ways. It can be described in no other way than to call it fate.”

“Victoria will be overjoyed to hear the news,” Charlotte said, and it was only somewhat of a lie. “And all that is left to do is plan the ceremony.”

“Over dinner then. We will celebrate the union of our families and discuss the most sensible way to proceed.”

“Wonderful.”