An Earl’s Unexpected Courtship (Preview)

Chapter One

Jacob gazed out the window, feeling the rhythmic movement of the carriage as it jolted its way along the road towards Putton. Soon, the track would emerge from the forest they were travelling through, and the pine trees lining the road would begin to thin out, with dwellings and shops taking their place as they entered the town. Before long, they would be arriving at their destination, and he knew it was time to drag his attention away from his daydreams and back towards the job at hand. 

He turned to face his mother, sitting opposite him in the carriage. “Tell me again about the situation with the leases on the cottages by the church?”

His mother, Margaret, scarcely managed to suppress her sigh. “Jacob, my dear, I have told you already, at least twice!”

Jacob gave her a wry smile, running a hand through his light brown hair as he did so. “Forgive me, Mother. I have had many more interesting things to think about lately. But I promise I will concentrate this time.”

She huffed, smoothed her skirts with her soft, pale hands, and looked at him with piercing green eyes. “You must listen properly this time. You need to take this seriously.”

Jacob nodded, feeling chastened. He knew she was right. It was now a whole year since his father had died – he could scarcely believe that so much time had passed since that momentous day when life had irrevocably changed for him and his mother and sisters. He was the Earl of Chesterfield now, whether he liked it or not, and although he had never shirked from his responsibilities, he knew it was time to take a proper grip on things now. No more travelling, no more fun with his friends. All these things had served as perfect distractions from the rawness of his grief following his father’s unexpected and sudden death. His father had left this world far too soon when he had so much life left in him. But Jacob knew it was time for him to fully accept his new responsibilities now, even though he wished his father was still there to guide him. 

But there was no use dwelling on his grief. His mother was far more knowledgeable than he was on the details of the many properties on the estate and their various leases; his father had treated her almost as an equal when it came to managing things. 

He sensed, though, that these responsibilities were becoming onerous to her now as she struggled with her own grief and sorrow, and he was keen to relieve her of the burden. But first, he needed her to inform him of everything he had to know, so that he could relieve her of the responsibilities she had carried alone. “Tell me all about it,” he urged his mother. “I promise to pay attention this time.”

“Well, it is not terribly complicated, really,” Margaret began. “The tenants of the cottages have all been in their houses for a long time. I have known them all for many years. I know their children, even their grandchildren, in some cases. Many of them work on the land outside the village, on your father’s estate.” She stopped and blinked. “Forgive me, on your estate. Of course, it is all yours now, Jacob, and rightly so.” 

Jacob gave his mother a sad smile. “I wish it were not so. I still forget, sometimes, that he is gone,” he said softly. 

Margaret glanced out the window for a moment, a faraway look on her face. Jacob wondered what she was imagining. But then she sat up a little straighter and turned her attention back to her son. “Yes,” she said shortly. “But he is gone, and we must carry on. It is a privilege, you know, to be in a position to help those less fortunate than ourselves, and you must carry on his work and my own as well. I will not live forever, after all, and I must confess that I feel my energy waning somewhat.”

Jacob reflected on his mother’s rather grave words as the carriage continued to bump along the road. 

After a few moments of silence, his mother spoke again. “There will come a time, and I hope it will be soon, that you will have your own family, a wife, and children, and then it will be even more important that everything is stable and well-managed to provide you with the security you will need.”

Jacob scoffed a little. “Mother, you make it all sound so prosaic! Am I not allowed to think there might be something more than stability to look forward to?” Something like love, he added to himself, although he did not want to say the words out loud to his mother. She would only get over-excited, and he was not quite ready to share his plans with her just yet.

“Stability is better than nothing,” she replied shortly, but their conversation was cut short when the carriage suddenly gave a violent jolt. “These roads!” he exclaimed. “I am sure they are getting worse!” 

Margaret shrugged. “The journey will get smoother as we get closer to the town. This road through the forest has always been terribly rutted. Now, the Smiths are the only tenants who have ever given us any trouble. The rest of them are all good as gold, always pay their rent on time, and look after their cottages. But the Smiths … well. They need careful management.” She paused and frowned. “Did you hear something?”

Jacob held his breath. He had a strange feeling that something was wrong, although he could not put it into words. But his skin prickled with a sense of danger all the same. He told himself he was being ridiculous; his mother was just being over-anxious, as usual, and if he looked worried, it would make her feel all the more unsettled. “I did not hear a thing, Mother,” he said, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “So what’s to be done about the Smiths?”

Suddenly, a loud bang hit the air, and Jacob’s blood ran cold. “Mother, get down!” he shouted. 

Margaret went white with fear, but she managed to obey him, ducking her head between her knees and placing her hands over her head. 

There was another bang – a gunshot, surely? Jacob had to fight every instinct to copy his mother and throw himself down onto the floor of the carriage. But he knew he must remain alert and try to find out what was happening. He had to protect his mother at all costs. 

The carriage lurched to a halt, and he heard shouts and the loud whinnying of the horses. Without thinking, he threw open the door and jumped onto the road, his boots landing on the dusty track with a thud. The acrid smell of gunpowder assaulted his nostrils, and his heart thumped in his chest as adrenalin flooded through him. 

He looked around, and his worst fears were realized. Highwaymen. They must have been waiting for them amongst the trees, on the last stretch of road before the town, where they could lurk unnoticed in the undergrowth for hours until a suitably smart carriage passed by. The Morton family carriage was not especially opulent, but on seeing it, it would be clear to any bystanders that it contained passengers of noble birth, likely to have at least some valuables with them on their travels. Jacob swore under his breath as he counted the masked men surrounding the carriage, all dressed in black. There were three of them – no, four – two on horseback and two on the ground, their horses standing at a distance. His heart sank. 

The coachman jumped down from his seat at the front of the carriage and looked around, quickly assessing the situation. Then, he glanced at Jacob. There was fear in the man’s dark eyes but a hint of something else, too – determination and defiance. 

“Do you think we can take ’em on, My Lord,” he murmured.

Jacob swallowed. He was not a man to shy away from confrontation – heavens, although his mother would swoon at the thought, he had not led an entirely blameless life as a schoolboy or even in the years that had passed since his schooldays. But he also knew that more bandits could be hiding in the forest, waiting to jump out at the first sign of resistance. And, of course, these men had guns. He and the gutsy coachman had only their fists. Much as he wanted to fight back, he knew it would not end well. They had no hope of overpowering the bandits.

The horses stomped next to them, neighing in fear and confusion, and Jacob knew he had to act quickly. If the horses spooked and ran off with the carriage, that would present a whole new disastrous situation, especially with his mother still inside. 

He took a step forward, his heart pounding. 

One of the highwaymen strode towards him, brandishing his pistol. “You’ll give us your money!” he yelled. “And anything else you have!”

Jacob yearned to resist, but he knew it was futile. He nodded to the coachman, hoping he understood. They would have to admit defeat and hand over their very limited valuables. All they could do was hope that it would be enough to satisfy these men’s criminal greed. A surge of anger started to rise within him at the injustice of it all. Not to mention the shame of it. He was not looking forward to having to tell his companions at the club about this incident – assuming that he came out of it in one piece, of course. But now was not the time for heroics, especially when he had his mother’s safety to think of. He knew that he would have to submit and then pray to all that was heavenly that the highwaymen would allow them to go on their way without doing them any harm.  

Then, suddenly, he heard a whizzing sound, and a shout, followed by a thud. He whirled around, to see one of the bandits who had been standing on the other side of the carriage, crumpling to the ground. 

“Oy! What?” the bandit nearest to Jacob shouted, frantically looking around in confusion. 

Jacob, too, was baffled. Were they under attack from another gang of thieves? He could not comprehend what was happening. 

Again, there was the same series of noises, and this time, Jacob was sure he felt the air moving right next to his face as if some object had flown past him, very fast, too fast to see. 

Another bandit fell from his horse to the ground. They were dropping like flies, and Jacob could not figure out what was going on. 

The ringleader swore out loud. Clearly, this was not part of his plan, and he was not sure what to do next. Only one of his companions remained standing. The situation was changing by the second, and Jacob wondered for a moment if he should rush at the man and try to overpower him while he was distracted. 

Jacob watched in amazement as the man in front of him, too, fell to the ground, his pistol dropping from his hand and clattering onto the road. Everything was happening so fast, but Jacob knew he had to figure out what was going on so that he could protect his mother and their property, too, if at all possible. 

He whirled around, but before he could make sense of what was happening, he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head, like an explosion. Then he felt his legs giving way underneath him as he fell to the ground. He felt the sensation of his face hitting the dirt of the road, and his last thought was of his mother and how he could get her to safety. Then everything went black. 

 

Chapter Two

“Marie, what has got into you this morning?”

Marie shifted uncomfortably in her seat in the chaise and looked at her father. “I am quite alright, Father.” Her fingers tapped the polished wood, reflecting her suppressed annoyance. 

Edward Stanhope frowned and shook his head. “I know you better than that, Marie,” he said softly. “I can tell that something has upset you. You do not have to tell me, of course, but it might help to talk it through, you know.”

Marie smiled. Her father was not like other fathers, and she knew she was lucky to have him. He would always listen to her troubles, even the most inconsequential ones, and give her his wise advice. But this time, she was not sure she could speak to him about what was on her mind. 

“It is nothing, Father,” she said.

Edward shrugged, then turned to look out of the window. 

Marie let out a soft sigh. It wasn’t nothing, but talking to her father about it wouldn’t help – and might only worry him. 

A moment of silence passed between them before her father spoke again. 

“I know what the problem is,” he declared. “And you know me, Marie. I cannot sit in silence for long. Your aunt has upset you.”

Marie pushed a stray lock of dark hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Father, I cannot keep anything from you, it seems.” She smiled at him. “And nor would I want to. But I do not want to trouble you with my trifling worries. I know you have much more important things to worry about.”

He shook his head. “Not at all, my dear. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness.” 

Marie glanced out the carriage window at the densely wooded forest outside. She wished for a moment that she was walking through the trees rather than cooped up in this carriage. If she could only feel the fresh air on her skin and breathe in the sweet scent of the pine trees, perhaps she would feel a little calmer,

“I confess that Aunt Lucille’s words have troubled me,” she said. “It seemed to me that at every opportunity, she spoke to me about the need to get married. She kept on telling me about various young gentlemen of her acquaintance who might be a suitable match for me, and really, I just do not want to hear about it!”

She remembered, too, her aunt’s quiet whispering to her at breakfast the day before. 

“Marie, dear, you’re not getting any younger,” Aunt Lucille had said with a knowing smile. As if age were reason enough to commit herself to a man forevermore! She knew that everyone thought she should settle down – her older cousins, too, had started nudging her about it. Every time it was mentioned, Marie had clenched her jaw and forced a smile; while she loved her family dearly, she found this new and seemingly constant topic of conversation rather trying. 

Edward chuckled. “But Marie, my dear girl, you are twenty-one now! Of course people will think of you getting married! It is the path for most young women of your age and position, after all.”

“But Father, I am not ready!” Marie insisted. “I do not want to get married. I can imagine nothing worse than having to be at the beck and call of some man I hardly know!”

“It would not have to be like that, you know,” Edward mused. “And I would never allow you to marry someone you hardly knew. You know that, surely?”

Marie nodded. She knew her father would never push her to marry. “Even so, though,” she went on. “I do not want to leave you.”

Edward sighed. “And I do not want to do without you, either,” he replied. “But you are young, vivacious, and beautiful, and before long, I am sure that some young man will fall wildly in love with you, and you with him, and then you will change your tune.”

“Papa, that will never happen,” Marie said. “I cannot imagine ever loving anyone as much as I love you!”

“It is a different kind of love!” Edward replied with a smile. “And I would not want you to live without it. When I think of your mother and how happy we were together …” His voice trailed off.

Marie felt a twist in her stomach at the mention of her mother. She barely remembered her, only those vague and misty memories of early childhood: her soft hands, the sweet French lullabies she used to sing to Marie as she dropped off to sleep in her little bed in the nursery. But there was nothing more, although she had searched her consciousness for it many times. But her mother had died when she was only four years old, during childbirth – giving birth to a brother, who had also died shortly after his arrival into the world. And her father still carried his grief with him to this day. 

“I know you loved her very much,” Marie said softly. “I do not believe I shall ever find that kind of love. And certainly not with any of the young men who Aunt Lucille would throw me in front of!”

“Well,” Edward said. “There is no hurry. We will not rush into anything. But I think that before the year is out, you may well have changed your mind.”

Marie shrugged. She knew she would not change her mind. Why could she not simply stay with her father in their comfortable home and share intimate meals with him, talking about books, politics, and all the other things that young ladies were not supposed to have opinions on? And when he was gone… well. She did not want to think about that. All she knew was that she did not want anything to change about their lives. 

“Papa, please, can we have a few weeks at home, at least, before we venture off to visit anyone else again?” she asked. 

“I am not sure about that,” Edward replied. “You know that we must pay calls and participate in society as best we can. And your aunt said that she is thinking of throwing a ball soon. We cannot miss such an event. Surely you know that.”

Marie fought the urge to roll her eyes. A ball! She could hardly imagine a worse way to spend an evening! All those insipid young ladies making eyes at any gentleman who came anywhere near them and all the society mamas thrusting their daughters in front of eligible suitors. All the noise and the hubbub. No, it was not for her. Well, nearer the time, she would think of an excuse. It was no use worrying about it now. 

Marie and her father settled into a comfortable silence as the carriage trundled along the road. Marie thought how glad she would be to get home and how pleased she would be to see Sylvie, her maid. Next time, she thought, she would insist that Sylvie accompanied them, even if they were only going to visit family. She simply could not do without her as a companion as much as a servant, even for a few days. 

As they travelled along the winding road, the sun dipped lower in the sky, 

casting a golden hue over the landscape. Marie’s thoughts wandered; she was looking forward to getting home, back to their quiet routine. She wondered how the new roses she had recently planted were getting on. First thing in the morning, she resolved to take a walk in the garden and check on their progress. 

Suddenly, a raucous noise broke her reverie. Her heart raced as she leaned forward, peering through the carriage window. 

Up ahead, a scene of chaos unfolded. A group of highwaymen, wild-eyed and shouting, were charging towards a very smart-looking carriage that appeared to be stuck in the mud. The horses were stomping in fear and kicking up dust from the road with their hooves. Two bandits were on foot, while two remained on their horses. She knew that there could be many more hiding in the trees to the side of the road. 

The sight sent a jolt of adrenaline through her veins. She couldn’t just sit back and do nothing; that was not in her nature.  

“Stop the carriage!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the hubbub. 

The carriage suddenly halted with a jolt, causing Marie to bang her head on its low ceiling. 

“Mon Dieu,” she murmured, rubbing her head. But the pain quickly dissipated, and her focus returned. She glanced out the window again. The driver had safely brought the horses to a halt from the unfolding drama. He probably imagined that her intention was for them to stay out of the way while the carriage in front was attacked and that perhaps they could, therefore, escape the notice of the highwaymen, but that was not Marie’s plan at all. 

Her father stared at her as if sensing her intention. “Marie, you must stay in the carriage!” he instructed. “Please, do not do anything rash. It is not safe out there.”

Ignoring her father’s words, Marie reached beneath her seat, retrieving her trusty slingshot—an item she never left home without. 

“What are you doing?” Edward shouted at her, his face drawn with panic. He reached out to grab the slingshot from her, but she evaded him. “You cannot be thinking of trying to intervene? It would be madness!”

Marie glanced at the slingshot in her hand. It had been a gift from her late grandfather, who had taught her how to use it. He was her only connection with her mother, and she had been devoted to him as a child. Since his death, she had honed her skills through countless hours spent practicing in the fields, and now it was time to put them to use. In a split second, she wondered for a moment if he would be proud of her now, of the woman she had become. Then, ignoring her father’s shouts of protest, she threw open the carriage door and jumped out, landing on the ground with a thud. 

She moved quietly, gathering a handful of smooth stones from the ground, feeling their cool weight in her palm. The most important thing was that no one saw her. She must do nothing to alert anyone to her presence. 

With determination, she aimed her slingshot at the nearest bandit, a burly man brandishing a pistol. He had his back to her, and he would have no idea what was about to happen to him. She released the first stone, a sense of satisfaction flowing through her as she watched it soar. 

The stone struck him squarely on the back of his head. He stumbled forward, then collapsed to the ground. 

She turned back to the carriage. “Get down!” she yelled to her father. He was looking out the window, trying to see what was going on, but she did not want him to get out and put himself in the line of fire. 

Fear in his eyes, he held her gaze for a moment, then withdrew inside the carriage, ducking out of sight. 

Marie continued to fire stones precisely and deliberately. Another highwayman fell victim to her unexpected assault. Then she aimed at a third man, one of those who was still on his horse. She did not want to hit the horse, so she concentrated hard on her aim. She felt a surge of satisfaction as she watched him fall from his horse and land on the ground. The horse remained unscathed. The poor animal was confused by the commotion around him, but at least he was unharmed. 

The ringleader looked around in desperation. She fired again and again, trying to hit him, but he was in a panic now, rushing around trying to find his horse, and all the while searching for the person firing at them. But all he could see was an empty carriage and the frightened horses. 

The remaining highwaymen seemed convinced that some supernatural force was thwarting their efforts, and they began to retreat. They ran into the trees, shouting to one another in a frenzy, leaving the carriage and its occupants behind. Marie could not help feeling a hint of pride at the sight of them fleeing, their confidence shattered by her quick thinking and skill. Perhaps, she thought, they would think twice about making another such attack on innocent travellers in the future. 

As the dust settled, she cautiously approached the abandoned carriage, her heart pounding with fear about what she might find there. How quickly the day had transformed! One moment, she was musing on her family’s obsession with her marital prospects, and the next, she was in the middle of a rescue mission. 

Inside the carriage, she discovered a woman slumped on the seats in a faint. Her face was pale, and her eyes were closed, but Marie could tell from the rise and fall of her chest that she did not seem to be injured. 

She jumped out of the carriage and walked around it. Much to her astonishment, she discovered an unconscious man lying on the ground, his eyes closed and blood seeping from a wound on the back of his head. She could not help noticing that he was extremely handsome as she looked at him but pushed the thought from her head as best she could – now was not the time for such inappropriate musings. She looked upwards to the driver’s seat and noticed him slumped against the side of the carriage. He appeared to have suffered injuries as well. 

“Father!” Marie called, her voice tinged with urgency. 

Edward emerged from the carriage, taking in the scene. “Marie! Are you alright?”

She nodded. “I am unhurt, but these people have not been so lucky.” She paused and glanced down at the man on the ground. The blood was congealing in his brown hair, and she was worried that he might be on the brink of death. How had this happened? She did not remember aiming at him. Perhaps one of her shots had ricocheted from the carriage and hit him by mistake. In all the confusion of the events that had taken place, she could not remember every detail of the last few minutes. 

“We need to get them home,” Edward said, his expression serious. “We will talk about your wild actions later, but for now, they need medical attention.”

Marie nodded, her determination returning. It would not do for her to fall into a faint at the sight of blood when there were people who needed her help. 

With the help of their own carriage driver, they carefully lifted the woman and the man, placing them gently in the carriage. The driver was almost too heavy for them to move, but he began to regain consciousness slowly, and they helped him into their carriage, hoisting him onto the back seat with great effort. Once everyone was safely ensconced in the carriage, Marie climbed in herself, her heart racing with fear and exhilaration. Edward climbed in after her, having instructed the coachman to take them home, going as slowly as possible to avoid jolts but also being mindful of the need to get away from the crime scene as quickly as they could in case the highwaymen decided to stage another attack. 

The coachman guided the horses back onto the road, and they set off. As they travelled, Marie couldn’t help glancing back at the injured strangers, wondering who they were and how they had come to be in such peril. 

It wasn’t long before they arrived at their home, a cosy dwelling surrounded by lush gardens and towering trees. 

“Mon Dieu, what has happened!” Sylvie exclaimed, rushing down the stairs to meet them in the hallway. “You look like you have been in a war!”

“Sylvie, do not worry, I am quite unharmed,” Marie said reassuringly. “But my father is in shock, I think. Perhaps you can call the others to come and help us? There are three people in the carriage who need medical help, and we need to get them inside.”

The household sprang into action, with all the servants coming to help move the young man, the older lady, and the coachman. 

Soon, they were all settled in beds upstairs, and the physician had been called. 

“Marie, there is nothing more we can do now. We will just have to wait and see what the physician says,” her father said. 

She nodded. “Come and sit down; let me get you a drink.”

They went into the drawing room, and she poured her father a glass of whisky from the decanter on the sideboard, then went to sit down next to him.

He took the glass from her with a smile. “I do not know what to say to you, Marie,” he murmured after a sip. “You should have obeyed my instructions when I told you not to get out of the carriage. Anything could have happened to you, and I cannot imagine living without you.”

“I could not sit there and do nothing, Father!” Marie said. She wondered for a moment if her father would be disapproving if she poured herself a drink. Bravado aside, her nerves were jangled by what had happened. She got up and poured herself a small glass of whisky, her father watching with a raised eyebrow, then returned to her seat.

She took a sip of the amber liquid, feeling it burn as it went down her throat. “I wonder who they are,” she mused. “I thought we knew everyone who lived around here, but I did not recognize the lady or the gentlemen.”

“Nor I,” Edward replied. “We must simply pray to God that they and their coachman all come out of this unscathed.” 

As they waited, Marie felt a mixture of worry and anticipation. She had never been in a situation quite like this, and the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on her shoulders. These strangers were in their home injured, possibly fatally. And she had no idea who they were. 

After what felt like an eternity, there was a soft knock on the door, and a footman entered, bringing the physician with him.

Her father stood up. “What news?” he asked anxiously. 

“You can relax, Mr Stanhope,” the physician replied with a kind smile. “I think they are all out of danger.” 

Marie let out a sigh of relief and sensed her father doing the same. 

“The lady has recovered from her faint. One of the maids will stay with her overnight to check that she does not deteriorate, but I think that once she has had a good night’s sleep, she will be fine,” the physician explained. 

“And the coachman?” Edward asked.

“He is down in the kitchen now, having something to eat. He has a slight cut on his arm, and he did bang his head quite hard, but he will be fully recovered soon, I am sure of it.”

“What of the gentleman?” Marie enquired. She hardly dared to ask, and the memory came back to her of his pale face on the ground and the blood seeping from the wound on his head. It was all her fault that he had been injured, and she was not sure she could bear it if he were permanently damaged or, worse, dead. 

“He’s still unconscious,” the physician answered, his brow furrowed. But the wound is no longer bleeding, so I think we can relax a little, and we’ll need to see how deep that wound is in the morning.”

“So you think he will live?” Marie said.

The physician nodded. “Miss Stanhope, I promise you that he will live.”

She exhaled sharply – she had not even realized that she had been holding her breath, waiting for the physician to tell her the man’s fate. “Thank goodness for that.”

“Indeed,” the physician nodded. “Now, Mr Stanhope, I will leave you to inform the authorities what has happened. These highwaymen are a scourge in our society, and perhaps they can be caught if you and your daughter can provide enough information about them.”

“Indeed,” Edward said. “I shall send a man out now with a message to fetch the constable.”

The physician took his leave, promising to return early in the morning to check on his patients or sooner if word was sent to him that there had been any deterioration. 

“Marie, you must go to bed,” Edward said, glancing at the clock in the hall. “It is late, and tomorrow we will have much to do to look after our unexpected guests.”

“But Father, I should stay with you and speak to the constable,” Marie protested, although she felt herself almost dropping with tiredness. 

“No, you must go to bed. I will tell them what happened, and in the morning, you can give them your version of events.” Her father paused and looked at her with a wry smile. “I am not sure quite how you are going to explain your insistence on bringing that slingshot with you everywhere you go, though. It is not the most ladylike of things to carry with you!”

“But aren’t you glad I had it with me?” Marie replied archly.

“I am glad you are safe, my dear,” Edward said. “That is all that matters to me.” He drew her into his arms, and she relaxed into his embrace and then drew away. 

“I will do as you say and go to bed,” she replied, “but please, Father, you must make sure that you get some rest too.”

“Do not worry about me,” Edward said. “Now, ring for Sylvie and get yourself upstairs!”

Marie obeyed her father, and soon, she was in her chamber with her maid, telling her the whole story of what had happened that day. 

“I cannot imagine who he is!” she said as Sylvie stood behind her, brushing out her long, dark hair with smooth, rhythmic strokes.

“Well, Mademoiselle, I suppose we shall find out in the morning!” Sylvie replied, catching her eye in the mirror and grinning.

Marie frowned. “Do not look at me like that, Sylvie. I know what you are thinking. I simply want to know who he is and to be sure that he is fully recovered, that is all.”

Sylvie giggled. “Whatever you say, Mademoiselle!”