Christmas at Harcourt House

  By

  Fenella J Miller

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of The Author - Fenella J. Miller

  Christmas at Harcourt House © Copyright Fenella J. Miller, 2022

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author's imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

  Cover design J D Smith

  Chapter One

  December 1812, Harcourt House, Suffolk.

  Lord Benedict Harcourt, seventh Earl of Stonham, tossed aside the pile of bills that had recently arrived knowing he hadn’t a hope in hell of paying them. He leaned back in his chair, put his booted feet on the desktop and closed his eyes. Sometimes inspiration struck when he was sitting quietly and by God, he certainly needed it to happen now.

  He had been enjoying a carefree existence trawling the hellholes of London, indulging in a series of scandalous liaisons with willing ladies with not a care in the world. His father had been hale and hearty, his mother happy with her lot and his two younger siblings, Oriel and Benjamin, were being tutored at home.

  Then catastrophe struck and his pater broke his neck when out riding. That was shocking enough, but to discover from the black crows, the family’s lawyers, that his father had made several foolhardy investments and the coffers were empty was a devastating blow. His mother already inconsolable, as were his brother and sister, had yet to be told this grievous news.

  He could see only one way out of this disaster and this was for him to marry money. At five and twenty he'd not expected to fall into parson’s mousetrap for several more years but needs must. There was no alternative, however unpalatable that might be, otherwise Harcourt land and his ancestral home would have to be sold and the family move.

  There was a slight tug on his coat-tails. 'Ellie, what do you want, sweetheart?' He didn't open his eyes and with an inward sigh of resignation knew he would have to put his worries aside and attend to his ten-year-old sister.

  'Mama wants you in the drawing room. She's not crying now. Ben's being difficult.'

  He removed his feet from the desk and put his arm around her. 'It's hard for all of us, little one, but especially so for your brother. He and Papa were close and his loss has hit him the hardest.'

  Benjamin, almost fifteen years of age, addressed as Ben to avoid confusion with himself. He was always addressed as Benedict. All the males in the family were called either Benjamin or Benedict. A ridiculous tradition that he intended to abandon when he had his first son.

  The little girl ran off, her golden pigtails bouncing on her shoulders. All the Harcourts had fair hair, light complexions and blue eyes of various shades. His were more mauve than blue and he found this unusual colour had been no hindrance to his success with the fairer sex.

  'Come along, Ellie, let's not keep our mother waiting. What's our brother been up to that's so upset her today?'

  'He refused to go to the schoolroom for his lessons and was last seen galloping across the park on your stallion.'

  'Good grief! He appears determined to come to the same end as our father. Don't worry, I'll speak to Mama and then go in search of him.'

  The only positive about the sudden demise of his parent so close to Christmas was that those that he owed money to had given him until January to come up with a solution. It was the festive season and they wished to be benevolent.

  On his command no fires were lit anywhere apart from the drawing room so walking through the vast house was a challenge – especially for the ladies who were not as warmly dressed as the gentlemen.

  'At last, I sent for you an age ago. Can you not at least pay attention to your poor bereaved mama?'

  ‘I beg your pardon, ma'am, I was dealing with urgent business matters. I gather that my brother has gone astray – I'll get after him immediately.'

  He turned to leave but she called him back. 'That's not why I wanted to see you.' She waved at his sister. 'Go to the schoolroom, young lady, and get on with your studies.' The girl curtsied politely and ran off without argument. 'I know how we stand financially. You might think me a pea-goose, but I've known for some time that your father lost all our money in unwise investments.'

  This was indeed news to him. He flicked aside his coat-tails and sat opposite her in a comfortable, but somewhat shabby, armchair. 'I'm glad that you know, ma'am, because I need your help for us to come about. I want you to organise a house party over Christmas. I've been devising a list of suitable guests – there are half a dozen cits with daughters who are desperate to marry them to an aristocrat. I might be all but destitute, but I'm an earl with hundreds of acres and all my teeth.'

  His mother smiled. 'I think the latter will be as much an asset to your search for a rich bride as the former. I too have been drawing up a list – but unlike you I have been looking at the gentlemen available. You are by far the youngest and quite definitely the most attractive.'

  'Thank you for your glowing recommendation. I'm fortunate in that there are no dukes of any age on the marriage mart this year. Even a toothless octogenarian would be snapped up if he was available.'

  'I think there might be one disadvantage where you're concerned, my dear, and that's the fact that you have an unfortunate reputation in Town. Not quite a rake – but…'

  This was the second time she'd surprised him as he'd no idea that his rackety lifestyle was known to her. He grinned and shrugged, not at all embarrassed by her comment.

  'I don't go to gambling dens, don't imbibe too much alcohol and my liaisons have all been with women – I hesitate to call them ladies – who had no complaints.'

  'A young man must sow his wild oats – that's only to be expected. However, I'm sure that any future father-in-law will wish you to vow that you've given up that way of life and will be a steady and sensible husband to his daughter.'

  'I'm shocked that you think I'd be anything else. Now, it's already December and I'm wondering if we've left it too late to send out invitations. I imagine most people will have made their arrangements for the festive period some time ago.'

  'Believe me, my dear, the kind of people we wish to have here will cancel any other plans when they receive my invitation. What I'm wondering is if we've got the wherewithal to finance this operation as I'm certain our credit is running rather thin.'

  'Leave that to me, Mama, I shall speak to the bank and tell them that I intend to be married to an heiress very shortly. I can assure you that they'll be only too happy to advance me whatever I need as by doing so I'll be able to repay them what is owed.'

  'I've already written out the invitations in the hope that you'd agree. Do you wish to see who I've invited? Compare it to your names?'

  He shook his head. 'I don't – this isn't how I intended to be wed but I must make the best of it. How many suitable candidates have you?'

  'Six, and all of them will be in Town for the next Season so you'll need to make your choice speedily.'

  'Do you know anything at all about the families you intend to invite here?'

  'All you need to know is that they'll bring with them hundreds of thousands of pounds. They are all between seventeen and twenty-four, healthy and reasonably well-educated. I cannot tell you anything about their appearance.'

  'It would be preferable to marry someone who isn't bracket-faced, but for me a lively wit and an intelligent mind is of more importance.'

  'But if you marry an ugly girl then you might well have ugly children.'

  He chuckled. 'That can't be helped. I'll be a good father to any progeny we have and the best husband I can be. I won't keep a mistress in Ipswich and will do my damnedest to make sure that whoever I marry doesn't regret her decision.'

  He stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, I must go in search of my missing brother and, more importantly, my prize stallion.'

  *

  Tiverton Hall, Hertfordshire.

  Miss Theodora Watson bit her lip as for the third time the modiste who was pinning her new gown poked the pin into her side instead of the material. If it happened again, she wouldn't remain silent. Ma had insisted on employing this Madame Ducray as she was the woman who made the gowns for all the top families.

  A pin stabbed her. She reacted without conscious thought and slapped the hand holding the pincushion hard, making Madame Ducray yelp.

  'You're no more French than I am. You're here under sufferance as am I. I don't want your gowns. Take yourself, your minions and your patterns out of my room and out of this house. Don't expect to be paid for your ineptitude and unpleasantness.'

  'I promise you that you'll regret your behaviour, miss, I'll make very sure that no seamstress of any note will dare to replace me and you won't be accepted anywhere.'

  'I told you to go away. If you don't wish me to set my dogs on you then I should do as I ask immediately.' At the mention of the word dogs her two wolfhounds started to snarl. Dogs of this size would normally be restricted to outdoors but Pa had sided with her and overruled Ma on the subject.

  The obnoxious seamstress and her terrified assistants scuttled off; Thea jumped off the footstool and laughed. Her maid, Annie, wasn't so sure the incident was am
using.

  'I don't think your mother will be best pleased, miss, she went to a great deal of trouble and expense to get that horrible person here to make your gowns for the coming Season.'

  'Fiddlesticks to that! You know my mother, once she sets things in motion she loses interest. Please fetch Mary and then the two of you can make these gowns the way I wished them to be in the first place. Remove all the frills and fussiness and I think they might do. I like the cut and the colours, it's just the appalling extras I don't like.'

  'They won't be the same as gowns made by Madame Ducray. Surely your mother will notice?'

  'By the time she sees them it will be too late for her to do anything about it. I'll leave you and Mary to work your magic – after all you've been making my gowns very satisfactorily these past few years and I've had nothing but compliments when I've appeared in public.'

  'Thank you, miss, you know I love to sew.'

  Thea hated the name Theodora and insisted on it being shortened. Her mother addressed her as Dora which she hated equally. She stripped off her petticoats and corset and pulled on her men's breeches, shirt, waistcoat and topcoat. Then she bundled her hair under a flat cap and was ready to ride her spirited stallion around the extensive grounds.

  'In the unlikely event that my mother sends for me just tell her I've retired to bed with a megrim. We both know she'll not visit as she cannot abide even the faintest hint of sickness.'

  'One of these days she'll discover the way you dress when you ride, miss, and then there'll be trouble for both of us.'

  'My father will smooth things over as he always does.' She snapped her fingers at her dogs, Shadow and Smoke, and slipped out through the servants' door sure she wouldn't be seen by anyone who'd tittle-tattle to her mother.

  Jones, the housekeeper, wouldn't dream of doing so but the butler, Thomas, was a toady and ingratiated himself with her parents at every opportunity. The fact that he'd come from the household of a titled gentleman gave him an undeserved status and Ma believed every word he said.

  Brutus, her huge bay, was saddled and waiting for her. She turned and the head groom, Billy, hoisted her into the saddle. 'Young Fred's coming with you. He's riding your other horse, Sinbad, he could do with the exercise.'

  'Thank you, Billy. I'll be about two hours if anyone comes looking for me.'

  The horse was dancing from side to side so eager was he to get off. She relaxed her tight hold on the reins, squeezed gently, and he moved into a smooth, long-strided walk. She wouldn't dream of riding astride in men's attire anywhere but on their own land and was as proficient on a side-saddle as she was this way.

  She twisted in the saddle to speak to Fred. Sinbad, who wasn't quite as tall as Brutus, a stunning dappled grey, just five years old and already much in demand as a sire. He'd proved fertile and there were already a dozen fillies and colts in the neighbourhood.

  Brutus was younger and only recently backed, and she wouldn't put him to stud for another year or two. Her mother would have a conniption fit if she knew that her only child, her precious daughter, who she intended to use as her entry into the ton, was involved in such a shocking pastime.

  'We'll take the usual route and then through the woods, over the home pastures and return the same way.' She couldn't risk being seen from the house so never rode in the park which would be far more enjoyable. Even her besotted father might draw the line at her riding astride.

  She galloped, hurdled enormous fences, ditches and hedges and returned exhilarated and happy to find her world had been turned upside down in her absence.

  As they walked into the stable yard, she saw Annie hopping from foot to foot watching for her. For her maid to be here, and so agitated, meant something catastrophic had occurred.

  She swung her leg over the saddle and dropped to the floor, tossed the reins to the waiting stable boy, and ran across to speak to her. 'What's wrong? What's happened?'

  'Oh miss, I think that weaselly Thomas must have seen you somehow and then went to the mistress. You're to go at once to the drawing room. Both the master and mistress are waiting to speak to you.'

  'I'm not going smelling of the stable. I won't have time to bathe, but I'll wash and change. We can do that in less than ten minutes. I can't see that waiting a few minutes longer can make things any worse.'

  In the allotted time she was fragrant, her hair neatly pinned as it should be, her gown, a pretty yellow muslin, complemented her auburn curls. She fled through the house, only slowing her steps as she reached the open doors of the drawing room.

  She took a few steadying breaths, stiffened her spine, and glided as gracefully as she could – which wasn't something that came naturally – to face the reckoning.

  It was to be expected that Ma would look prune-faced and disapproving but for her beloved Pa to look even angrier was a very bad sign indeed.

  'Well, Theodora, what do you have to say for yourself after this appalling breach of manners and etiquette?' Her mother spoke first and said nothing Thea hadn't been expecting.

  'I've been riding astride in men's clothes for years. I'm believe that both of you were aware of this even though you never mentioned it to me. I only ride within the grounds and I've never met anyone, apart from our own people, so I can't see why you're both so upset.'

  Her father was a tall man, she inherited her height from him, also her green eyes and red hair. For a horrible moment she watched his fists clench and thought he might be going to strike her.

  'Good God, child, I don't give a damn about your riding. Don't you understand the damage you've done by sending that modiste away so rudely?'

  'She was horrible, the gowns she was making were horrible, I don't see why you're…'

  'Silence.' His voice thundered around the room and she flinched. She'd never seen him so angry and couldn't comprehend why this should be so. 'That woman will spread the most malicious gossip about you, make it impossible for us to find you the husband we were hoping for. Do you think that any member of the ton would want to be associated with this family after what you've done?'

  Despite the fact that he'd told her to remain quiet she spoke out anyway. 'I've no wish to marry into the aristocracy as I've told you many times. Therefore, I don't give a fig what that woman says about me. She was deliberately stabbing me with the pins even though I'd asked her to be more careful. Did you expect me to stand there and be assaulted by her?'

  Her mother was unimpressed by this but her father, thankfully, softened his expression. 'No, my love, that was unconscionable of her. You did the right thing to send her away.'

  'Sydney, how can you say that? I explained to you that she'll not be given vouchers for Almack's…'

  'You have bats in your attic, Beth, if you think our daughter would ever be admitted to the hallowed halls reserved exclusively for the gentility. Those assembly rooms were never going to be available.'

  Thea was tempted to slip away and leave them to discuss this without her but her vigilant father saw her move. 'Remain here, child, there's something we need to tell you. We've been invited to a Christmas house party at Harcourt House. The Earl of Stonham is up to his eyebrows in debt and looking for an heiress to solve his problems.'

  She collapsed in an ungainly heap on the nearest chair at this dreadful news. 'I thought I was to have a free choice in who I married.'

  'That was before. In this I agree with your mother – alienating that seamstress will make it all but impossible for you to be invited to any of the prestigious events. It doesn't matter that I'm as rich as Croesus – I made my fortune in trade, don't have the right pedigree, and that makes you ineligible.'

  'You intend to sell me to this Earl of Stonham?'

  'We intend to accept the invitation. If you give me your word that you'll behave yourself, not do anything to offend him, then if he does offer for you it will be your decision if you accept.'

  Chapter Two

  Benedict left the arrangement of the house party to his mother and efficient staff and hid away in his study where he could be certain no one would disturb him. The bank had been only too willing to lend him sufficient blunt to hold this event as they had no wish to see him evicted.