He was holding a letter and he passed it to her. “This arrived, my lady. It’s addressed to you. From Orley House.”
“Thank you!” Bernadette took the letter, hurrying to the window where the light was better so she could read it. She slipped her finger under the simple seal of a flower and openedit. Her eyes moved swiftly over the small, flowing lines of text.
“My dear niece,” she read as Mr. Hadley hurried out. “I was grateful to receive your letter. It finds me in good health. I was pleased with your offer and of course would be delighted to accept. I will have a room made ready for you. I look forward to your arrival. Please inform me of your day of departure so that I can have matters in order when you reach Orley Manor. With anticipation, Rachel.”
Bernadette shut her eyes. Relief flooded her. She had to admit living with Aunt Rachel wasn’t exactly a diverting prospect—Orley Manor was old, drafty, and isolated on its property in the Yorkshire Dales. Yet it was also a safe place, somewhere to hide and a chance to make her own way in life without her parents’ unreasonable expectations.
She took a deep breath. This was the deciding moment of her life. She went to the writing desk at the window and settled down to write. She’d have to find a way of explaining her choice to her parents. Her stomach twisted painfully. She needed to do this, to find the boldness somewhere within her to do it.
She lifted the pen. As she wrote, footsteps echoed. She looked up to see Mr. Hadley with her father.
“Daughter! There you are. Could you come to the study for a moment? I have something to tell you.”
Chapter 4
Bernadette looked up at her father in confusion. He stood in the doorway to his study, the light from the lamps casting him almost in shadow. She frowned up at him, heart thumping in alarm and consternation.
“Father?” she inquired. “I need to tell you some news. I...”
“Not now,” he interrupted, and his voice was oddly tense—not angry, but as if he had some important information to express. “Can you step into the study for a moment? I have something to tell you. Something important.”
Bernadette felt her frown tighten. “Yes, Father,” she murmured. Her hands damp, suddenly, with nervous perspiration, she walked into the study and stood by the big desk by the back wall. Her father shut the door.
“Bernadette, daughter,” he began. “I received some excellent news from Lord Lockwood. He has...he has arranged with me that you are to wed Viscount Blackburne, his grandson.”
“What?” she cried out, alarmed.
“No need to shout,” her father said, wincing. “It is exciting news, of course, but I expect you to receive it decorously, asbefits...”
“No! Father! It’s not excitement,” Bernadette interrupted swiftly. “It’s...it’s not possible. I can’t. I can’t do it.” She gulped. She couldn’t marry someone she’d never met. It wasn’t imaginable. It was awful. What if he was some unruly gambler and drinker like Ambrose? Or, worse, some lecherous horror who might be cruel, too? The room went dark around her, and she leaned back, reaching for the wall to steady herself.
“It’s not optional,” her father said tightly. “It’s settled.”
“No!” Bernadette caught herself on the mantel, about to pass out. She swayed on her feet, her world suddenly distant and strange. It felt like she was seeing the scene through a haze, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton wadding, and she could hear nothing. Nothing made sense.
“It’s going to happen in a week,” her father continued, as mildly as if he discussed a ball or some trivial event. “His lordship the earl has taken it upon himself to organise the ceremony and to obtain the license for us. So there is no need for any form of delay. Soon, you will be in line to be a countess.” He smiled thinly, as though this was the ultimate in good news.
“No, Father,” she whispered. “No. You’re not...you didn’t...” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She sat down heavily on a chair by the desk, unable to stand up anymore. Her heart fluttered dangerously.
“I did. Well, I must admit, the earl approached me. He’s known to me through my interest in the East India Company. We are both heavily invested there.” He ran a hand down his facethoughtfully. “An intelligent man.”
“I can’t do this,” Bernadette said softly. She gazed up at him, straining to see some vestige of kindness in his eyes. But all she could see there was a sort of fatuous contentment. He was pleased. He thought this was a good option. He clearly thought she’d be glad.
“Father...” she whispered. She looked up at him desperately. A thought came to her. “The Earl of Lockwood?” She frowned. At very least, she could expect her father to tell her more about this man. How old was he? What did he look like? Could she meet him, perhaps, before they decided? There had to be some way out of this.
“Yes. Your betrothal to his grandson is arranged. His grandson will inherit the earldom after Rowell, the current earl, passes away. Rowell’s son was in line to inherit, but he was involved in a fatal riding accident. Now his grandson is the heir. He is currently known by his courtesy title, Viscount Blackburne.”
“Blackburne...” Bernadette repeated it softly. She frowned. She felt sure she’d met almost every eligible man in high society—her mother insisted—but that name was one she was certain she’d never heard.
“Yes. Viscount Blackburne,” her father repeated.
“Can I meet him?” Bernadette asked hopefully. At the very least, he had to agree to that.
“Of course, you’ll meet him. Rowell and his grandson arecoming to dinner tomorrow. You’ll meet him then.”
“Tomorrow!” Bernadette gaped.
“Yes, tomorrow. Thursday,” her father explained, as though she’d suddenly lost her wits.
