Counterfeit Earl. Anne Herries
now. She had jilted a man, an important man, and she did not expect to be given a second chance, since gentlemen did not like to be made fools of, and most would not care to risk a repeat of her disgraceful behaviour. Besides, she would only marry if she found a man she could love, who also loved her—as much as Harry Ravensden loved Beatrice.
So if she was not to marry, what was she to do with herself instead? She was an intelligent girl, and she knew her education was lacking. She did not know many things Beatrice had been taught, but then her sister had been educated at home by their father, who was an unusual man.
Olivia could study at home, of course, and indeed she had begun to borrow books from her father’s library, books she would not have considered opening in the past. Although she was determined to improve her education through reading, she could not help feeling restless. She was in fact a very passionate girl and she needed an outlet for all the love that was inside her.
Olivia was very grateful to Harry Ravensden for settling ten thousand pounds on her. It meant that there was no hurry for her to make up her mind to do anything…and yet she longed for something to happen. If she had been born a man she might have taken up some sort of a profession, but very little was open to her as a female. She knew well that the life of a governess or a companion was a soulless existence, far less pleasant than her own at the moment.
“You are being missish,” Olivia scolded herself aloud. “You lack for nothing…except perhaps a little excitement, a little romance.”
If only she were a man! She would instantly enlist in the army and go to fight with their brave men in the Peninsula.
The Regent’s address to Parliament at the beginning of the year had mainly concerned Wellington’s brilliant victories in Spain. One of his most recent at Badajoz had excited even Papa when he read of it in his newspapers.
“The siege of Badajoz has been attempted several times,” he had told Olivia, “but our men did not have the besieging tools and battering rams necessary. However, this time, Wellington put his men out to sea from Lisbon and then went in secretly in small boats up the river to Alcácer do Sal, and after some fierce fighting the walls of Badajoz were breached. And Lord Wellington will not be content to stop there, believe me. He will sweep the French from Portugal and Spain before he is finished.”
Olivia had been impressed by the heroics of the men who had fought and won such victories. In her heart, she longed for adventure. How wonderful it must be to fight and win for the sake of glory and of England!
She sighed as she reached Roade House, knowing there was little likelihood of her ever leaving the shores of her homeland. The best she could hope for was to visit her sister and Lord Ravensden occasionally, and spend the rest of her time as usefully as she could at home with Papa and Nan.
“It seems unfair of us both to go and leave you here alone,” Olivia said as she kissed Nan’s cheek just over a week later. “Are you sure you will not change your mind and come with us? You know that Beatrice would be happy to see you.”
“I stayed with Beatrice for a few days at Easter,” Nan said. “I am quite content here, Olivia. I shall begin preserving the soft fruits as soon as you and Bertram have gone.”
“And I shall be home within a week,” said Mr Roade, “unless Ravensden wishes me to begin work on our project, of course—but I shall write and let you know. You will be comfortable here, sister. Besides, Olivia could not be expected to travel alone, even though Ravensden has sent his carriage and servants to fetch her.”
Olivia smiled at her father’s thoughtfulness. After Lord Burton had thrown her out, she had travelled from London to Northampton by public coach, and from Northampton to Abbot Giles on a carter’s wagon. No harm had come to her then, though she had been shaken until her body was aching all over, and her heart had felt as though it were breaking. However, her sister’s kindness had soon restored her, and she was grateful now for her family’s care of her.
“You spoil me, Papa,” she said, allowing Lord Ravensden’s groom to hand her into the carriage. “Perhaps we should go? Coachman will not want to keep his horses standing.”
“Yes, yes, no sense in waiting.” Mr Roade beamed at her. “Au revoir, Nan. I dare say I shall be back before you have had time to miss me.” He climbed inside the carriage to sit opposite his daughter. “I must admit I am looking forward to seeing Beatrice and Ravensden. He tells me he has found the diagrams relating to the flying machine of which he wrote some months back. Yes, indeed. It should prove a most interesting visit!”
Olivia waved to her aunt from the carriage window. She found her father’s preoccupation with his rather odd inventions a little disturbing. He had not yet installed another of his stoves at Roade House, though he had told her he was certain that the local blacksmith had not followed his instructions in making the previous design.
“It was the fault of inferior workmanship,” he said now. “I told Ravensden I suspected it, and he agreed. If he thinks it worth his while to let me experiment with my new designs, which I believe he must think exciting…we shall have the stoves for Camberwell forged at one of the new iron foundries. Then perhaps the workmanship will not let my designs down. I am sure that the principle is entirely sound.”
“Yes, Papa, I am sure you are right,” said Olivia, though she really did not comprehend more than a few words when he described his theories to her. “For myself, I am simply looking forward to seeing Beatrice. It seems an age since we were together.”
“At last!” Beatrice cried as Olivia and Papa were shown into the parlour where she was sitting at a small writing-desk. She got up at once and came towards them, arms outstretched to embrace them both in turn. “How glad I am to see you, Papa and my dear sister.”
“You look well, m’dear,” Mr Roade said. “Blooming, I may say. Where is Ravensden? I am eager to see the drawings he wrote of.”
“He was called out on some business…” Beatrice began, but the sound of footsteps in the hall announced Harry’s arrival. “Ah, he is here now…”
There was another flurry of greetings, during which Harry kissed Olivia’s cheek and shook hands with his father-in-law. After a few moments’ brief conversation, the two men withdrew to Harry’s library to study their papers, leaving Olivia and Beatrice together.
“Papa is right,” Olivia said. “You do look very well, dearest.”
“I am,” Beatrice replied and embraced her again. “Come and sit down with me, Olivia, and tell me all the news from home.”
“I told you in my last letter that Lady Sophia is engaged to be married, did I not? And about the terrible goings-on at the Abbey.”
“Yes.” Beatrice looked thoughtful. “I cannot pretend to feel sorry that Lord Sywell met such an unpleasant end; one cannot but think he must have had many enemies…if all the stories about his disgraceful behaviour with the wives of tradesmen were true. I imagine there must have been quite a few husbands and sweethearts who would have liked to see him dead.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Olivia said. “People are suggesting that Lady Sywell might have done it herself, but I cannot believe it.”
“No, indeed,” Beatrice agreed at once. “If she had wished to kill him, she would surely have done so when she ran away…if she did actually run away, that is.” She wrinkled her brow. “I have always regretted that we were not able to finish our search of the grounds.”
“That was impossible after Lord Sywell threatened to shoot first you and then Harry.”
“Yes…” Beatrice shook her head. “Enough of all this gloom and doom. It was really news of you I wanted to hear, Olivia. Have you made lots of new friends in the village? Are you happy and settled?”
“I have made friends,” Olivia said. “I visited Annabel Lett a few days ago, and I went to see Amy Rushmere only yesterday morning. They both sent their regards to you. I think you are much missed in the villages, Beatrice.”
“I