A Midsummer Bride (22 page)

The next morning, Thornton was awake even earlier than normal. Sleep, and the blissful escape from consciousness, had evaded him. He planned a hard ride to match his mood. A glow emanating from the library caught his attention.

“Miss Redgrave?” Thornton’s heart stilled upon finding her in the library.

Harriet jumped. “What are you doing here? I thought everyone would be in their beds.”

“I thought ye would be too. ’Tis the middle o’ the night.”

Harriet shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep. Besides, it is almost morning.”

“Are ye doing experiments here again?” It was a pointless question given the scientific equipment sprawled over the table.

“No! I, well, yes, but you see I couldn’t do it in the castle because I needed pure darkness for some of the experiments.”

“And why would ye need that, lass? Or a better question, why here?”

“The castle has so many open windows, there is no way to prevent some light from getting through. Even now the moon is so bright I can see my own shadow. Here, you have those.” Harriet pointed to thick burgundy drapes. “No light gets through.”

“I see.” What he saw was Harriet focusing on her experiments and ignoring anything that may have occurred between them.

“Truly?”

“Nay. I would only caution ye that this is my library. I dinna wish to see it go up in smoke.” He could ignore his feelings too.

“Oh, I am not doing any experiment that requires open flame. Well… right now at least. This desk is all the surface I need.” She kept her eyes on her powders and glass tubes. “Why are you awake so early?”

Because
I
cannot
stop
thinking
of
you.
“Need to run the horses,” Thornton said instead. “Saw the light, so I came in. Which begs the question, if ye need to have complete darkness, why the lantern?”

“I am setting up the experiment now. I will turn off the light when I am ready. Would you like to see it? I am trying to make light.”

“Light?”

“Yes. I am trying to find a chemical compound or reaction that can produce light. I have been experimenting with phosphorous.” She busied herself with the experiment and Thornton drew nearer. She was in her element. He remained quiet, watching her, not wishing to disturb her concentration. She may appear awkward in society, but here, she was the sophisticate, and he the country bumpkin.

All the criticism of her rang in his ears; he wondered if it rang in hers too. She had chosen another game to play, one of science, not flirtation. But he knew there was more to her—a vast desire to love and be loved. It would be a waste to throw it away.

“I wish the others could see how skilled ye are,” he murmured his thoughts out loud.

She shrugged but did not look up. “I thought, especially when I first started, if only I could show people how fascinating chemistry was, they would join me in my pursuit of science. It never worked. First, no one wanted to see. And second, they never appreciated it when they did. I would do a brilliant experiment and they would talk of how I had stained my gloves. It was a pointless exercise.”

“So you stopped trying.”

“Naturally. I believe in using scientific principles in my approach to life. If the experiment does not work, change a variable, try it again, but at a certain point, one must give up even cherished hypotheses and make new ones in the pursuit of truth.”

“So what have ye given up?” He was almost afraid to ask.

Harriet slowly looked up at him. “Some elements do not mix, and if they do, a disastrous explosion can occur.”

“Some explosions can be good.” He rather liked her explosions.

“Explosions can cause damage and pain.” She focused back on her work, refusing to even glance at him. Her tone was matter of fact. “In science, we make no value judgments regarding the outcome of experiments. Facts are facts. Some elements do not belong together and there is nothing more to be said.”

He wanted to refute her findings, but he could not. What could he say? Harriet wished to return to America. It would be easy to promise her he would leave everything behind and live there too, but he could not. Goodness only knew what would happen to his people, his tenants, his own mother if he left. He must stay. She must leave.

“All of yer experiments may not have worked out the way ye wish, but ye have used yer time wisely. Ye have invested in the pursuit of knowledge.”

Harriet met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This is what I will focus on for the rest of my life. I will dedicate my life to science.” The resignation in her voice was unmistakable.

“Do not give up on finding happiness in marriage entirely,” blurted Thornton, not wishing her to be susceptible to the lures of d’Argon.

“All I need is a husband to gain access to the scientific community. If I had been born a man, it would have been different. I could have joined a scientific society and learned from colleagues, and my scientific pursuits would have been met with interest, not derision. Unfortunately, I am in need of a husband to continue my work.”

Thornton struggled with how to respond. He felt her slipping away and yet knew he could not pull her back. “Show me yer experiment, for though I can hardly excuse the misogynistic tendencies of my entire gender, I can make it up to you by being an appreciative audience now.”

Harriet nodded, did a few more preparations, and doused the light, casting them into complete darkness. In the inky blackness he could not see what she did, but all of a sudden an eerie green light began to glow on the desk.

“It’s working!” she exclaimed.

“Good heavens,” he said. It was working. In the green glow, he could see her wide smile. At least something had made her happy, and it certainly wasn’t him. “It is amazing.” And it was.

“What a find! I replicated some results, but changed a few things and it works even better. I would love to present this at the academy.”

She was back to talking about a marriage of convenience again and it made Thornton cringe. “Do not rush into a union unadvisedly.”

“If two people have a clear understanding of the arrangement, what does it matter?” She threw him a hardened look in the unearthly green glow.

“I do not trust d’Argon.”

“He told me you would say that.” She dismissed his concern.

“I warrant he would,” muttered Thornton. He heard noises from outside in the hall. “The servants are awake earlier than usual to prepare for St. John’s Eve.”

“Is that tonight?”

“Aye, and we will have a bonfire and a feast to celebrate.”

“I shall be on my guard for faeries.” In the green glow with her hair down, she could easily be mistaken for one of the fair folk herself.

More noises came from outside and he knew it would be dangerous to be caught with her alone. “I should go. Will ye be all right?”

“I shall be fine. I will simply clean up a bit. I wonder how long this will glow.”

He could not wait to find out and slipped out the door.

***

“I believe the proposal from d’Argon is sincere. He shall marry her, his financial difficulties will be over, and so also will ours,” said Antonia.

“She is prepared to enter a marriage of convenience, but has some doubts as to his sincerity,” said Penelope. “And, truth be told, so do I.”

Antonia frowned. “Whyever so?”

“Something Thornton said to her. She thinks him interested in her money.”

“Well of course he is interested in her money. It would be an odd thing if he was ambivalent. And if Thornton isn’t interested in making an offer, he should clear the field.”

“Harriet says she will marry for science. I have no idea what that means.”

“Always an odd girl.”

“A trifle unusual perhaps.” At the dowager’s raised eyebrow Penelope was forced to concede the point. “Quite unusual I grant you. But I fear she is not marrying for the right reasons.”

“Right reasons? Bah!” The dowager stood and shook out her skirts as if rejecting the offensive notion. “I suppose you are going to start talking to me about romance and love and other nonsense like Langley. I blame novels. Too many romantic notions being bandied about. Dangerous I say.”

“No doubt,” said Penelope. “But we must find some way to prove to her and to ourselves that the Duc d’Argon is interested in more than just her inheritance.”

“How would you do this?”

“I have an idea…”

***

It was time for her performance. Penelope took a deep breath, grasped the folded piece of paper in her hand, and walked into the parlor where Miss Crawley and many young ladies were spending a respectable afternoon with their diligent chaperones. Penelope chose a chair in the middle of the room, within sight of many of the young ladies. She opened her missive and pretended to read.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed, staring at the paper. “Her entire fortune gone?” She stood for effect.

“What is the matter, Miss Rose?” asked Miss Crawley.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” Penelope clutched the paper to her chest, as if hiding it from prying eyes. “Forgive me, but I must speak with Miss Redgrave immediately.”

Well
now
, thought Penelope as she walked back to her room,
that
bit
of
gossip
should
be
spread
like
wildfire
.

“Is it done?” asked Harriet, who was waiting for Penelope’s return.

“Yes. The rumors will be flying.”

“What should I say if anyone asks?”

“I doubt anyone would. It would be highly impertinent. If anyone broaches the subject, you should give them a setdown.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to begin.” Harriet shook her head.

“Ignore them and walk away.”

“Would that not be rude?”

“Of course it would be rude; that is the point.”

“Oh, of course.” Harriet slumped back in a chair and Penelope didn’t have the energy to correct her.

“If the Duc d’Argon passes this test, are you sure you would like to marry him?”

“A marriage with him makes a good deal of sense. There are things I cannot do, doors to scientific societies that are permanently barred because I am unmarried. I could never publish a paper or attend a scientific meeting without being escorted by my husband. The duc is charming and personable, all the things I am not. He can take care of our position in society while I can be free to focus on my work. Beyond that, he is willing to live in America so I can be near my parents.”

“Very sensible.”

“Thank you.”

“But do you love him?” asked Penelope.

“No,” said Harriet simply.

“Harriet, I don’t mean to pry, and please do not answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but is there anyone else for whom you have feelings?”

Harriet stood and smoothed her dress. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“You appear to me to have developed a friendship with Lord Thornton.”

“Yes, the rumors of that are endless. However, Lord Thornton has sworn never to get married, especially not to somebody with a fortune. He is a very nice sort of man, but he has not misled me in his intentions. In addition, I wish to return to America. Thus, I have no cause to be unhappy about him.” Harriet raised her chin and looked away.

“Very sensible,” said Penelope again, this time with sympathy.

“Yes. Thank you. If the Duc d’Argon is who he claims to be, I think we shall be quite happy together,” said Harriet without conviction.

“I am sure you will,” Penelope agreed with the same lack of confidence. She was not sure now whether she hoped the duc would prove worthy or not. Either way, it was certain to get interesting at Thornton Hall.

***

The spy slipped into the room of Lord Thornton while everyone was at tea. He gave the room a contemptuous cast of his eye then went directly to the bed. Underneath the mattress, he found the documents he expected. After a quick perusal, he placed the plans in a satchel and slipped unseen from the room. He needed to get those papers posted to London before sundown.

It was Midsummer’s Eve and the house was alive with excitement. The wood for the bonfire had been carried up to the base of the castle, since the fire had to be lit on a high place, at least so the legend went. The populace had to be protected from faeries. But of course the tradition was little more than an excuse for a party to be held late at night and outdoors. The possibility for mischief put a spring in the step of many of the young people, and put a note of caution and extra resolve on the faces of their parents and chaperons.

Most of the guests were in the holiday spirit. The weather was fair, the wine was flowing, and the musicians were tuned and ready to play. After a meal of several courses, the guests retired back to their respective bedrooms to change into their costumes. To add to the amusements, the Midsummer’s Night Eve celebration would be a masque. Perhaps this way the faeries would pass unrecognized among the guests.

“I heard ye give my mother the idea for a masque,” Thornton accused Marchford as they walked down the steps from the men’s wing.

“Yes, I did. This way no one will know it is me, which will be helpful for our little trap and also allow me to pass this evening unmolested,” said Marchford.

“Ye fear for yer virtue?”

“Thornton, you have no idea the lengths these women will go to ruin me. I live in fear that I will be discovered alone with one and she will cry that I have made violent love to her. I have found women in my bed, under my bed, in my wardrobe, hiding in the billiard room, even stashed in the liquor closet, which is not an easy feat. I fear females may jump out at me at night or drop upon me from the trees. I am glad to be avoiding the celebrations tonight, for I suspect I would be no match for their cunning.”

“So ye are going through with yer plan?”

“Yes. This is the perfect night to do so. You understand what to do?”

“Aye, ’tis simple enough. I will walk up to the bonfire wi’ yer valet so everyone believes it is ye.”

“I only feel sorry for my valet.”

“I shall try to keep an eye out for him.” Despite his words, Thornton appeared distracted.

Marchford paused on the stair, concerned for his friend. “How goes it with you? You have been in a strange humor all day.”

Thornton shrugged. “I will manage.”

“If there was something wrong, you would tell me.”

Thornton shook his head, leaving Marchford to wonder. “It is my problem. I shall solve it somehow. Trouble is, I dinna ken how right now. But I will. I must.”

“If you are in need of some money—”

“Nay!” Thornton shouted. “Sorry, old friend. But nay, I shall no’ be borrowing money from my friends. I’d rather buy a set of colors and see the world.”

“Before you join the Regulars, please do talk to me first. I am certain you would be an asset to the army, but I need friends I can trust more than you can imagine.”

“Thank ye, but some problems are my own to solve.”

Marchford could only watch as his friend walked away.

***

Despite her unequivocal success with her phosphorous experiment, Harriet was restless and disappointed, though she could hardly say why. Everything was going as planned. She should be thrilled. Instead, she felt sadly flat.

There was a knock on the door and Penelope stuck in her head. “Why, Harriet, you are not even dressed.”

“I do not have anything suitable for such an occasion,” said Harriet. She honestly could not care less, but she grabbed on to the first excuse that came to mind.

“Well, why didn’t you say something earlier? I’m sure I have something that will do nicely.” Penelope took her by the hand and led her to her dressing room, where the duchess was waiting. “Her Grace took it upon herself to buy me new clothes, and despite the fact that I did not wish for them, I must say she has good taste.”

“Oh no,” said Harriet. “I am much bigger than you. Your gowns would not fit.”

“Leclair may be able to fix it. It might be a trifle short.”

They found Leclair and asked if there was any hope.

Leclair sniffed the air, her head held high. “I once dressed the Comtesse de Chauvé to perfection with nothing more than draperies and the bed clothes.”

“Did she not die at the hands of the revolutionaries?” asked Penelope.

“
Oui
,” said Leclair with a shrug. “But she looked divine.”

It was not long before Leclair was able to lengthen the skirt and Harriet found herself tied into an emerald silk gown that was sheer perfection. It was a trifle snug, and as a result the gown hugged her curves and her décolletage spilled out the top.

“I don’t think my father would approve,” said Harriet, looking at herself in the glass.

“You look lovely,” declared the duchess. “My, but I do have good taste.”

“I look like a harlot,” complained Harriet.

“An expensive one at least,” said Penelope, grabbing a shawl to conceal her own cleavage.

“Wait now. For what purpose do you wrap up in a shawl? I would like one too!”

“No, you look very well,” appeased Penelope. “I merely look silly.”

Harriet put her hands on her hips and the dowager crossed her arms.

“Fine,” muttered Penelope and removed the shawl.

At the duchess’s request, Leclair condescended to do the young ladies’ hair. The result was stunning. With cascading curls, skintight gowns, and salacious curves, Harriet and Penelope hardly resembled their former selves.

The duchess grinned with delight. “I am sure the men will be throwing themselves at your feet.”

“Sounds like a lot of bother,” said Penelope.

“We might trip over them,” finished Harriet.

“Hopeless, the lot of you,” muttered the dowager. “Put on your half-masks, we shall see what this evening brings.”

They donned their masks and walked down the grand staircase together, receiving more than a second look from the guests assembled in the marble entryway.

“They must think we are someone else,” whispered Harriet.

“That is all the fun of a masque,” replied Penelope. “Oh no, he would not do that!”

Harriet was surprised by Penelope’s sudden change in topic and watched as Penelope marched up to a tall man holding a copy of Debrett’s
Peerage
of
England
. Penelope pointed to the book and seemed quite unhappy, though why the book would cause distress was beyond Harriet.

Harriet felt a momentary discomfort at being abandoned by Penelope, until she realized that with the mask, no one knew who she was. With her emerald silk gown and styled hair, no one would likely guess either. She could be anyone—except she was six inches taller than most women.

The happy revelers were encouraged in their appreciation of St. John’s Eve by a round of hot toddies, which were passed out on trays in order to facilitate the walk up the path to the bonfire at the castle. Some of the elder members of the party, the dowager and Langley among them, decided to forgo the walk and have their own celebrations in a more moderate, although hardly temperate, manner. They played cards and drank wine until midnight, when they all switched to whiskey, neat.

The younger members, or those still interested in adventure, took to climbing the hill. Not wishing anyone to feel the least uncomfortable from the short hike, way stations were arranged along the path offering more hot drinks, such as rum punch or wassail, and a nibble of biscuit or sandwich was offered as well. Once revelers reached the courtyard of the old castle, they were greeted by more generous libations and musicians playing all the country-dances. In the middle of the courtyard, a large bonfire raged, casting everything in an orange hue. The seasoned wood cracked and sparked, shooting fiery bursts high in the air, giving the arrangement a dangerous tone.

It was Midsummer’s Night Eve, and mischief was in the air.

“
Bonsoir, mademoiselle
,” said d’Argon with an accent that could only be his. “Such celebrations, they are quite amusing, no?”

“Good evening,
monsieur
,” replied Harriet, adjusting her mask. She could hide her face but not her height.

“I must say you look stunning tonight. So different from your usual self I would not have known you. Would you care to dance?” He swept her a bow so polished there would not have been a lady in all of Britain who would have denied him. Of course, she was an American.

“I would be delighted.” Apparently some things worked just as well on Americans as on the English. Despite the barb about her “usual” appearance, she followed him to where the other dancers were assembling. She did wish to know his reaction to the rumor of her poverty if he had heard it yet. Apparently, he had taken a ride that afternoon.

He led her to the dance area, which in this case was the grass of the courtyard. They joined a line of couples for a country-dance. It was familiar to Harriet, yet outside in the dark with the bonfire, the dance had never seemed so vibrant and alive.

After the set, Harriet was breathless, and the mask was uncomfortable. “I need to catch my breath,” declared Harriet.

“Allow me the pleasure of escorting you,” said d’Argon. He led her away from the others to a dark corner on the side of the castle. They were perhaps not as alone as one might think, since many couples were engaged in a private
tête-à-tête
in the dark recesses of the castle courtyard.

Harriet removed her mask and was relieved by the coolness of the night air on her face.

“You are very beautiful tonight,” said d’Argon in a low voice.

“I borrowed the gown from Miss Rose.”

“You should do so more often. With the masque, you look quite the picture.”

Did he mean she looked better with her face hidden? She decided to change the subject. “It is a beautiful night.”

“
Oui
. Perhaps we should walk behind the castle. I believe there are some hidden treats for the guests there, or so I have heard a few say.”

“That sounds amusing.” Harriet was always interested in fun diversions.

They walked around the back of the castle until the sounds of music were muted and the darkness surrounded them. In the corners, out of sight, Harriet noted the soft sounds of people together, whispering… kissing. When they reached the far side of the castle, they were greeted only with darkness. She suspected there would be no surprise other than what may be found on the arm of the duc d’Argon.

“I do not believe there is any secret here to be found,” said Harriet.

“Do you not think so?” His voice was low and seductive.

“But I can show you something remarkable.” Harriet grabbed his hand and dragged him to the old kitchens where her laboratory was. She knew this area well from climbing in the dark, so the lack of light did not alarm her. “Wait here,” she said and left him at the door. She did not want him bungling about making a mess of things.

“Miss Redgrave, what is this you wish to show me?” His tone could not hide his annoyance.

“See, look. I was doing some experiments with luminescence and, well, see for yourself.” She held up the bottle of the strange powder and it glowed in her hand. “It is very odd. I cannot wait to complete more experiments on this.”

“Interesting,” said the duc in the manner of people who did not find it interesting in the least.

“’Tis verra interesting,” said a voice that could only be Thornton’s.