The Beast and the Baron's Daughter

  The Beast and the Baron’s Daughter

  Regency Fairy Tales

  Charlotte Darcy

  Fair Havens Books

  Copyright © 2019 by Indiana Wake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Love or Title a Lady’s Choice Preview

  Also by Charlotte Darcy

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Sweet Regency Romance

  Charlotte Darcy writes sweet Regency romance that will take you back to a time when life was a little more magical.

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  1

  “Now then, we really must start packing. I know we shall not be leaving until Friday, but one can never be too well prepared,” Lady Ariadne Milford said as she heaved herself to her feet with her customary noisy groan. “Goodness, old age is catching up with me.”

  “Shall I ask the housekeeper to have your wooden trunk laid out in your room, My Lady?” Jane asked and hoped that she was being helpful. “And then, perhaps, you could tell me what you need, and I could help you pack.”

  “Not at all, my dear. The housekeeper has everything under control and my lady’s maid will pack for me. She is well versed on my traveling needs, Jane.” Lady Ariadne gave Jane a reassuring smile. “No, I think you and I shall take tea instead and discuss this nephew of mine. I daresay it will be of some use to you to know a little something of him before we arrive at Sotheby Hall.” She looked across the drawing room to the bell rope hanging neatly by the side of the chimney breast. “I know it is early, my dear, but what-say you ring for tea anyway?”

  “Of course, Lady Ariadne,” Jane said and dutifully rose from her perch on the couch and silently hurried across the room.

  “My dear, you are always so keen to help with everything.” Lady Ariadne was studying Jane as she made her way back across the room. “But you really are only my companion, Jane. You must try not to be one of my servants, for you are not. I know the circumstances of your father’s passing have made you nervous, but you are still a well-bred young woman. None of us know in our youth how the world is going to treat us, but we always have our breeding to fall back upon.”

  “You are very kind, Lady Ariadne.” Jane settled back on the very edge of the couch opposite her mistress.

  “Oh, do sit comfortably, Jane. You make me feel as if there is some emergency that I am not yet aware of.” Lady Ariadne waved her companion back into her seat. “That’s it, lean back a little at least. Is that not more comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Jane said and wished she could find some way to feel at her ease.

  But her life had been turned upside down with the passing of her father and she felt like a fish out of water.

  Her father, Lord Briars, a baron, had struggled for most of his life with a failing estate, doing everything in his power to see it continue for generations to come, even if his heir was to be his nephew. Jane had been his only child and his only relief had been to know that his nephew would have happily kept Jane safe on the estate when the time came. But when the time did come, there was nothing left for Jane’s cousin to inherit and no way for that fine young man to add her to his already great responsibilities. In the end, Jane had taken matters into her own hands and struck out into the world in search of a job. Thinking first to try for a position as a governess, she had found luck at last when the very first post she had been offered had been as a companion to Lady Ariadne Milford. It was better paid and kept her status at least a bit better elevated than if she had become a governess.

  “Now then, about my nephew,” Lady Ariadne began, bringing Jane back into the here and now. “I have not yet told you much about him. The truth is that I did not think he would agree to see me and so I thought there was little point in giving you any of the details before now.”

  “I see,” Jane said, not really seeing but feeling she ought to add to the conversation in some way.

  It wouldn’t do for her to simply smile benignly and stare out of one of Brockett Hall’s ceiling-height windows or to admire the largest fireplace she had ever seen. Lady Ariadne liked her companion to be just that; a companion. She was expected to participate, to give opinions, even offer advice on occasion. But with a woman of such a forceful character as Lady Ariadne, such confidence was not easily found.

  “Oh, but he was such a dear boy to me, Jane. Such a handsome little lad.” Lady Ariadne looked suddenly upset and Jane, unused to dealing with such things, began to fear she had no means by which to manage. “And when he set off for Spain, his father and me pleading with him to reconsider, he was so full of enthusiasm for life and everything in it.” Quite out of the blue, Lady Ariadne dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Lady Ariadne, what is it? What is upsetting you?” Jane, feeling certain that her mistress would not want her to dash across the room and comfort her physically, decided to get to the heart of the matter.

  After all, it was Lady Ariadne’s way of doing things and Jane could only hope that she would appreciate a little forthrightness.

  “Oh, I am upset my dear. Very upset. I am always this way when I think of my poor dear Nathaniel.”

  “Your nephew? But why?”

  “He was so terribly wounded out there in Spain. Oh, how I wish he would never have gone.”

  “Lady Ariadne, forgive me, but is your nephew an invalid on account of his wounds? Is that why you are so upset?” Jane spoke gently.

  “No, he is not an invalid, except that he makes himself so.” Lady Ariadne, just as her character dictated, sniffed in a loud and unladylike manner without apology, forcing Jane to stifle an inappropriate laugh.

  “I do not understand.”

  “He has made himself a recluse. That handsome boy who left home at just twenty is now a man of thirty who might just as well live in a cave for all the people he sees. He has made himself a hermit.”

  “And that is why you did not think he would agree to your visit?”

  “Yes.” Lady Ariadne blew her nose with all the grace of a farmhand. “But he has, and so I must be pleased. And I am, although I suppose it is true to say I am more relieved than anything. I have not seen him for two years. Before that it was three.” She shrugged. “I just hope that he will let me help him this time. Let us help him,” she said and looked meaningfully at Jane.

  As Jane smiled kindly, she wondered just what was going to be expected of her.

  2

  “I suppose you must prepare a room for my aunt, Mrs. Marlow. It seems that she will not be denied this time.” Nathaniel Alexander, the Earl of Sotheby, gave his housekeeper a defeated sigh.

  “Very good, My Lord. And I shall have servants’ rooms aired and ready for the lady’s maid and the driver.” The middle-aged housekeeper nodded slowly. “Is Lady Milford to bring anyone further, My Lord?”

  “Not that I am aware of. Was that the extent of her entourage on her last visit?
I can hardly remember, Mrs. Marlow.”

  “Yes, My Lord. Just the two servants.”

  “Then I suppose that is all we can prepare for.” She shrugged. “My aunt is a creature of habit; I daresay she will bring the same two servants with her.”

  “Very well, My Lord. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you. I will not be needing anything else this evening,” he smiled at Mrs. Marlow, letting her know she was free to get on with whatever she chose to do for the rest of the evening.

  For his part, Nathaniel had already decided that a few glasses of brandy in front of the fire would serve him very nicely. He had picked out a book which he had already laid out on the side table next to his fireside armchair, although he knew he was unlikely to read a word of it.

  As was common when he had something on his mind, Nathaniel would simply sit and drink by the fire with the open book on his lap and no idea of the story contained within its pages.

  No sooner was the door closed than Nathaniel was on his feet approaching the drinks trolley. Even as he poured his first large serving of brandy, he could still hear the departing footsteps of Mrs. Marlow.

  With a sigh, he took his glass back to the fireside and settled heavily down in the armchair, its thick blue brocade upholstery rough and pleasingly unyielding as he tried to make himself comfortable. He smiled; he liked that. Life was not easy, not even making oneself comfortable, and he did not want it to be either.

  Nathaniel wanted to remind himself every day of the foolishness he had once been so guilty of. The foolishness which had made him such a bright and optimistic young man and sent him off to war all those years ago as if it was nothing more than a boy’s adventure. He wanted to be reminded of his mistake every day. Not so that he never made it again, for he knew that the young man he had once been would never return. No, it was so that he could remind himself exactly who was to blame for his current life; the life which would be his until he was finally tipped into the grave.

  The scars which covered his right upper body and part of his face had been his doing. His self-imposed exile from the world had been his doing. His loneliness had been his doing.

  It seemed to Nathaniel that even his loneliness was not enough to make him truly want the company of his aunt, nor anybody else. The only people he could bear to see were his staff, and only because they were so used to his appearance that they never gave any indication that something was amiss.

  They had at first, of course, but how could they not have? He had left Sotheby Hall as a handsome man of twenty with all the arrogance of youth. He had returned a very different man just two years later, a man who would bear the scars of his foolhardy youth for the rest of his life.

  The staff at Sotheby had, by nothing more than familiarity, grown used to their master as he was now, and it had been a relief to him that his beloved father had passed before he had returned from the war.

  It had broken his heart, for Nathaniel had loved his father, but he loved him so much that he could not have suffered to see the effect his altered appearance would have had on him. His aunt’s devastation had been more than enough.

  Still, Lady Ariadne was a tough old soul and she was much better able to hide her sadness these days, even if she could not hide it completely. It was not as if she was going to be seeing him afresh; she would not gape at him the way strangers or even acquaintances did whenever he chanced to leave the walls and grounds of Sotheby.

  “Oh, perhaps I will enjoy the company,” he said to himself rather loudly before gulping down every drop of brandy in the glass. “Perhaps this visit will be a good thing.”

  He leaned back in his armchair, feeling the rough brocade beneath his flattened palm, and stared into the flames.

  Nathaniel knew, of course, that his beloved aunt could not help but try to find some way to help him. He knew she could not bear the idea of his self-determined seclusion and would try everything in her power to drag him out into the world again.

  She was a strong old thing and she certainly took some fending off. Nathaniel shook his head and realized he was smiling; not a thing he did very often.

  Perhaps it was time to let her in just a little, she loved him dearly after all.

  “Perhaps,” he said to himself again as he rose to pour himself another brandy. “Perhaps.”

  3

  The journey to Sotheby Hall was somewhat longer than Jane had been expecting and was serving to strain her already-strained nerves to almost breaking point.

  Although Lady Ariadne had told her that her nephew was scarred, she had not said quite how and to what extent. Jane had thought it indelicate to ask and so had kept her questions to herself. The problem was that the lack of knowledge was serving only to feed her imagination and, just an hour into their journey, Jane was on the verge of being truly terrified.

  “Are you quite all right, Jane?” Her mistress, clearly able to read her disquiet in her face, peered at her intently.

  “Yes, perfectly.” Jane gave a brief smile. “I am afraid I am just not very good at sitting backward in the carriage. Or traveling backward, I ought to say. It has always made me feel a little nauseous.”

  It was not entirely a lie, but the effects of traveling backward were not anywhere near as pronounced as her countenance might have suggested.

  “Then sit at my side, Jane. Really, you must tell me these things, otherwise I do not know.” Lady Ariadne sounded a little exasperated and Jane could hardly blame her.

  She wondered if she would ever truly get used to her role at Brocket Hall or if she would forever see herself as some sort of servant. Jane had always known her place in the world and been sure of it until now and she began to wonder if she would ever truly have a place in the world again.

  Jane moved across the carriage to sit at Lady Ariadne’s side and peered out of the window, somewhat relieved that the landscape was coming toward her instead of racing away from her.

  The truth was, however, that she felt little better and their somewhat sudden arrival on the outskirts of the grand Sotheby estate did nothing to improve her nerves.

  “Goodness, it is so overgrown,” Lady Ariadne said with yet more exasperation. “And I do so dislike hawthorn trees,” she went on, peering out of the same window that Jane was looking out of.

  Jane realized immediately that they must have arrived and could see for herself that the tangled and overgrown hawthorns mixed in with the most unruly and tall box hedging she had ever seen had seemed to form some manner of an impenetrable barrier.

  The imposing iron gates with their spear-like finials added to the general sense of seclusion and, as the carriage slowed up, Jane could hear the tooth-grating squeal of the hinges as a man on the other side began to open them inward.

  Jane heard the driver call down his thanks to the man before driving the carriage on through the open gateway. She was certain that she could hear that dreadful squeal again and had no doubt that the gates were being closed behind them. For a moment, it gave her the most dreadful sense of panic, the idea that she was a prisoner in a place she could not get out of.

  She already had a picture in her head of a ruined husk of a building with a dreadful, deformed monster standing amongst its fallen stones. So, when the carriage continued along the driveway to reveal immaculate grounds, beautiful woodlands, a large lake, and well-tended lawns, nobody was more surprised than Jane.

  The hall itself was the largest mansion she had ever seen. Forming part of the lower echelons of aristocracy, Jane and her father had been guests in many a fine home, but it was true to say that they had never enjoyed acquaintanceship with a man who held so grand title as the Earl.

  “At least the grounds look well,” Lady Ariadne said to herself. “But I suppose he would keep his prison as comfortable as he can manage.”

  “Prison?” Jane said, the word escaping her before she had had a chance to stop it.

  “I must not get maudlin again, my dear, or he will know it. My poor Nathaniel has a gr
eat sense for such things and he will know my mood immediately if I am so ready to give it away.” Lady Ariadne took in a deep breath and sat up straight and tall, her robust frame seeming mightier than ever.

  The carriage finally drew up on the gravel outside the great entrance to Sotheby Hall. Jane found she could not move and instead peered out of the window, craning her neck to look up at the truly enormous building in front of her. She could not see it all now since she was too close and could do no more than stare at the windows and wonder if the monster she had imagined was peering back at her secretly.

  “Come along, my dear, we have been in this carriage for quite long enough,” Lady Ariadne said, fidgeting dreadfully.

  The driver was down in no time and he opened the door, ready to reach in and help Jane down first. The cool air of the late summer day hit her, snapping her out of her little daydream. Jane took the driver’s hand and allowed him to help her out.

  Jane looked towards the steps and could see that the Earl’s butler was waiting to greet them, a warm smile on his face as he regarded Lady Ariadne.

  “Oh, Mr. Watson, what a very fine day it is today.” Lady Ariadne called up to the butler before they had even reached the bottom step.

  “Indeed, it is, My Lady. I hope your journey went as well as could be expected?” The butler smiled, and it was clear that he and Lady Ariadne were far from strangers.

  “Well enough, but I am most certainly glad to be standing upright again. One gets so concertinaed in a carriage, I always find.” Lady Ariadne took Jane’s arm without a second thought and allowed the younger woman to lead her up the wide stone steps.