A Masked Lady for the Marquess (Preview)

Prologue

The great hall shone brightly, illuminated by soft candlelight, with the scent of damask roses drifting through the ancient manor house. 

Emmeline heard the orchestra beginning to play in the ballroom, interspersed with laughter, as they tuned up in preparation for a musical evening of quadrilles and reels. 

Her mama and papa stood next to Emmeline in the oak-panelled hall, and the three of them laughed together as guests began to arrive for a ball at Manningley Manor. 

“Everything looks perfect,” said her mama. “Your first ball has to be special. You will dance till the early hours of the morning.”

Her dear papa had taken her in his arms and held her close. “You remind me of your mama,” he told her proudly. “We both hope you will find true love this season. It’s been the most important thing in our lives.”

“And it gave us you,” added her mama in her low, gentle voice. “During our very first dance, I knew that I loved your father.”

Emmeline spun around, twirling and whirling as if she danced a frantic waltz until she found herself standing in the middle of a dance floor in a ballroom.  Before she could take a breath, her partner appeared and bowed elegantly. 

His eyes met hers, shining with a curious green glow as if he were a supernatural creature from the land of the fey. Emmeline put her hands to her face and found that she was wearing a mask with the softness of silk. 

Had they met before? She didn’t think so. Yet the power of the connection between them felt so strong as if it had been there always, but she had only recognized it tonight. 

“My dance, I believe,” he told her as he reached for her hand. Emmeline found herself dancing in the arms of a mysterious stranger wearing an elegant dark mask with black feathers, which softened the outline. 

I’m at a masquerade ball, she thought. Her hands trembled, and her heart raced as the dance began gently and then became fast and furious as they twirled around the dance floor. 

I believe I’ve found true love. As the pace quickened, the room around her faded into the mists of memory. Everyone had gone. The ballroom was silent. 

Emmeline looked around, trying to find a trace of the guests and the handsome stranger who had led her through a dance that had changed her life. Her fingers still tingled from the touch of his fingers holding her hand as they danced. 

I stumbled across true love, and now I’ve lost it. Will I ever find it again?

When Emmeline awoke, realizing it had just been a dream, there was a tear on her cheek. 

 

Chapter One

Manningley Manor,

Hertfordshire

1815

Lady Emmeline Warwick’s life had changed when she lost her parents, Geoffrey and Rosamund Warwick, the Viscount and Viscountess Welwyn, in an instant and her world of close, comfortable family love had ended. Their coach had lost its grip on the icy road as they travelled back from an evening with friends, driving through the rolling Chiltern hills.  Emmeline should have been with them but had a slight chill, and her mama had insisted she stay home by the fire.

The drop hadn’t been far, but the road was isolated, and the carriage fell far enough to mean her parents had died in the wreck. She shuddered to think of their last, terrified moment as the carriage hurtled down the hillside before crashing into Garstead Woods. It was followed by the news that her brother had also died, fighting against Napoleon, leaving her without family, alone in Manningley.

Emmeline sat in her father’s library when Mr Howcroft, the butler, announced she had visitors.

“Sir William and Lady Matilda Warwick have arrived, My Lady,” he announced. “Shall I tell them you are in for visitors?”

Emmeline was not in the mood to talk to anyone. It was only a week since the funeral of her parents, but as these were relations, albeit ones she was only aware of by reputation, she thought she should show willing and see them.

 “Yes, Mr Howcroft, show them into the drawing room,” Emmeline replied.

As she walked to the drawing room, she could hear their loud voices, barking instructions to her house staff as if they were in charge of Manningley. When she entered to meet them, she found that their voices had made them seem so much larger than they were.

Emmeline steeled herself and greeted them cordially. “Sir William, Lady Matilda, welcome to Manningley. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

What came next totally shocked her.

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about Manningley and the estate anymore,” came the thin, reedy voice of Sir William, her father’s distant cousin. “I’m here to tell you that the property and title belong to me.”

Emmeline had stared at him in silence, feeling the impact of his words. 

“But, Mr Jenkins, my father’s solicitor, has been through the will and financial paperwork with me, Sir William. You were not mentioned, as I recall.”

“Impertinent girl,” came Lady Matilda’s voice. “How dare you question your uncle this way. Your mama gave you far too much leeway.”

“Forgive me, Sir William, erm, Lady Matilda, but you have arrived at my home and appear to be claiming that it belongs to you and not me. I do not believe that asking questions is impertinent, and I do not believe Sir William is my uncle.”

“You must call us Aunt Matilda and Uncle William, for we are your dear family.”

“But …”

“The legal documentation is all here, if you wish to look through it. If you wish to speak to your Mr Jenkins, then that is understandable, though I do believe you ought to trust your elders. We are your family, in fact. It’s a simple matter of your great grandfather’s will, my dear. After your father’s death, Manningley reverts to my side of the family.”

Emmeline stared at this man, feeling faint and looking around for something to hold onto. She found the edge of a table and clung to it, willing herself to stay calm. 

‘I’ll set out the will in your father’s, or should I say, more correctly, my library.” He looked towards her with an expression of distracted distaste. “You can study it there if you insist. You can ask your solicitor Mr Jenkins to look over it. You’ll find it is all above board and ship shape.”

“Oh, I do love it when you use those naval expressions, my dear,” gushed Lady Matilda. 

Emmeline felt a reaction of complete dislike and a growing fear of this woman. She forced her hand to let go of the oak table, to which she had been clinging for support and stood as tall as she could make herself. 

“That would seem to be a good idea, Sir William,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Uncle William!” came the sharp, shrill reminder from the florid-faced woman, whose face loomed before her. 

I’m not going to faint, she thought. I need to keep my wits about me and work out what is happening here. 

“Ah, a carriage is arriving. It must be the girls. Priscilla and Annabelle are here, my dear. Your daughters have arrived at their new home,” Sir William declared. 

And with that, Sir William and Lady Matilda, now Viscount and Viscountess Welwyn, left the room without giving her a second glance. Emmeline heard voices and laughter from the great hall. The last time there was laughter, it was Mama and Papa, before they left for that fateful dinner party at Camberley Court, from which they would never return. 

***

Two Years later

The older woman looked at Emmeline in disgust. “You are so slow at everything I ask you to do. I expect you to clean all that silverware again.”

Emmeline stared at her aunt. It would be the third time she had to polish the silver cutlery her mother had received as a wedding present. The silver was spotless, and this was vicious. 

“And when you have done that, you can help Annabelle prepare for the ball. The maid is busy with Priscilla’s preparations and then she will attend to me.”

“Very well, Aunt,” she replied, trying not to let her hatred of her aunt show. 

“I can see your reluctance, Emmeline. You need to understand your station in this house. You do what I ask you to do when I ask you, with a glad heart.” She paused and looked at her niece with disdain. “Tomorrow, you can check all the linen sheets and make a start on darning any holes. It’s a job long overdue.”

And with that, Aunt Matilda swept out of the room without glancing at her niece. 

Why can’t I accept my life and stop antagonizing Aunt Matilda? I make it worse for myself by refusing to accept the way she treats me. 

Two years before, there had been a ball in this house that her parents had held for her coming out into society. She had worn a shimmering ivory silk gown and felt so close to her beloved parents as they greeted their guests. 

How she had danced that night. Then, within three months, it was all over. Her parents were gone, and with them, her home and happiness. 

After her uncle and aunt arrived and taken up residence at Manningley Manor with their two daughters, Annabella and Priscilla, hostility had been evident from the first meeting. Her father had been estranged from that side of his family, so they had not met for many years.

Emmeline had asked Mr Jenkins to check her grandfather’s will, and he declared that, although it was highly unusual, it appeared to be in order.

The new family had sidelined their niece over a two-month period. “Don’t bother yourself,” her aunt had told her. “I’ll take care of everything while you are in deep mourning.”

When she emerged from mourning, everything had changed. She remembered asking if she could help her aunt with anything. 

“Well, now that you mention it, Emmeline, I believe that Mrs Farley, could do with some assistance. We have a dinner party this week, and you can assist with arrangements.”

“Of course, Aunt Matilda I’d be glad to be busy.”

“Oh, and I haven’t liked to mention this before, but would you move up to the third floor where you will have more room? There are several rooms in that old wing which would suit you better.”

“But Aunt Matilda, I’ve had that room ever since I can remember. I’d prefer not to change.”

She’d seen the steely look for the first time. “There have been changes, Emmeline. There will be more changes. I require your room for Priscilla. It’s far more suitable for her than for you.”

And so it had continued. Tonight, the ball was to honour her cousin Priscilla. She knew her aunt had the first twinges of concern that her elder daughter might be on the shelf, and holding a ball was part of her plan to get Priscilla settled with an offer of marriage during the next season. 

As she handed the silverware to Martha, the parlour maid, to tidy away, she took a breath and looked out the window. It was a glorious summer day, and she so wanted to take a walk down to the river, take off her shoes, and dip her feet into the fast-flowing waters. She’d often done this secretly in the past. Now, her every move seemed watched. 

As she made her way upstairs to help Annabelle dress and arrange her hair, she felt tiredness seeping into her body. I’m exhausted, she realized. If I don’t make the ball tonight, I really don’t mind. I’m glad I won’t be at the ball tonight. I just need to sleep. 

As soon as her cousins and aunt left for London, she would put her plan into action to leave Manningley, her childhood home. She’d begun to write letters enquiring about positions as a governess or ladies’ companion with a view to being in a post before Christmas. 

Despite the gruelling work she was given every day, she still loved Manningley, and the staff here still looked at her as their mistress. I can endure a few more months, and I don’t feel ready to leave quite yet.

 

Chapter Two

Frederick Ashburton, Marquess of Linslade, woke early. His valet, Jonathan, laid out a selection of clothes for him to choose from. 

“What do you suggest?” Frederick asked Jonathan. “I’m so used to wearing my uniform that it’s hard to decide on clothes. And they are just clothes.”

“Indeed, My Lord,” agreed Jonathon.

“Though to see some of those dandies in town, and even quite sensible men, spending several hours a day sitting while their valet ties a waterfall cravat, it’s like some sort of competition.”

“Would you prefer the Mathematical, the Osbaldeston, the Napoleon, or the Gordion Knot today?” Jonathon enquired with a grin.

Frederick burst into laughter. “The simple knot, I think,” he replied. “I’ll wait till Mother arrives before branching out into Corinthian elegance.”

He selected the simplest breeches and his well-worn leather long coat, the look that he preferred in the country. After years of living the army life, he was fairly self-sufficient with no need for fashionable attire.

Jonathan had been with him throughout the Peninsula wars, and he’d offered him a post as valet when he’d resigned his commission. They were both trying to make sense of civilian life and finding it a challenge. 

Here I am, Frederick  Ashburton, Lord Colonel Linslade, living a civilian life with a mother who seems determined to help me rejoin the life of a gentleman in the ton. It isn’t going to happen. I’m never going to be one for society life, but I’ll go to an occasional ball or concert if it makes Mother happy.  

He thought for a moment of Harry, who had been there alongside him on the Iberian Peninsula until one fateful day when he’d taken a bullet and was gone. Harry had met his last challenge bravely, and for a while they had thought he would pull through. However, then he’d developed a fever and blood poisoning, a sort of rapid septicemia had set in and taken over his body, and he’d lost consciousness and drifted away several days later. 

After Harry’s death, he’d felt the sharp pain of loss. He knew he could have become angrier on the battlefield when leading his men, but the weary-looking French of Bonaparte’s First French Empire looked tired, hungry, and forlorn as they followed orders and threw themselves into battle. 

Frederick had focused on following orders and doing his best to keep his men alive so they could return to their families. As he walked away from Harry’s makeshift grave, the sounds of cannon fire in the distance, he’d made himself a promise that one day he’d return to England to tell Harry’s parents about their son’s last battle. 

He’d been devastated to receive a letter from his mother, telling him that Harry’s parents had died together in an accident within a few weeks of their son, and it was unclear if news of Harry’s death had ever reached them. 

His mother, Harry’s godmother, had taken a keen interest in Harry’s achievements and had told Frederick she had always been grateful that he had a friend beside him in the regiment.   

The Dowager Marchioness Linslade, his mother, lived in the wild uplands of the north of England, closer to the Scottish border than to London, rarely venturing south, instead choosing to devote herself to running their family estate. Bernicia Castle was steeped in history, bearing the ancient name of the province from the Dark Ages before it had become Northumberland.

His mother had continued to correspond with Harry’s mother, and rarely did a month go by without a letter sharing family news since they had spent a season together in London. 

When he’d finally returned to Bernicia Castle three months ago, his company of men disbanded, his mother had been preoccupied with what had happened to her friend Caroline. She showed him several letters, returned from Manningley Manor, with no covering letter, except the first stark words that had told her of her friend’s death. 

“And where is Emmeline? What has happened to her?” she asked him. 

“I don’t know Mama. Maybe she is quietly grieving for her family and doesn’t want contact with the outside world.”

“Balderdash. I’ve never heard such complete baloney. It’s two years since her parents died,” she told him with absolute conviction. “I wrote to Lady Gargrave, an acquaintance in Hertfordshire, and she told me that after the arrival of the new Viscount and Viscountess, no one has seen Emmeline except fleetingly. It’s almost as though they roll her out occasionally to prove that she is still alive.  Lady Gargrave called on the girl when she heard of Harry’s death, but Viscountess Matilda Welwyn told her that Emmeline didn’t wish to receive visitors,” his mother continued.  

Frederick, unsure what to answer, just waited for his mother to come to the point. “It’s despicable, Frederick. I set Mr Dawkins, our solicitor in town, on it to see what he could ascertain, and his letter is here.” She pushed several pieces of heavy vellum into his hands and waited a few minutes while he read the contents.

“It’s unusual, I’ll give you that,” Frederick said after digesting the words. 

“Indeed. No one had any idea about this second will, written by the grandfather apparently, which diverts the property to another branch of the family if there is no male heir.”

She looked at him intently, concern etched across her face.  

“If Caroline and Nathaniel had known about this, then they would have made proper provision for their daughter. Did Harry ever mention this to you?” she asked him.

He shook his head. 

“No one knew anything of this, Frederick. That poor girl is alone and grieving for her whole family when, out of the blue, her father’s cousin arrives and takes over the house and estate.”

“He must have that right, Mama,” suggested Frederick.

“I disagree. Look at the last page of Mr Dawkins’ letter. The will has been accepted as bonafide, but he points out that the heir who had expected to inherit is a young woman under the age of majority. She would have no means of challenging this takeover of the Manningley estate.” 

“Mother, you need to calm yourself. However, I agree it is a strange scenario, and the fact that no one has seen Harry’s sister in society is concerning.”

“Lady Gargrave writes that they see her only in the distance, wearing what appears to be the sort of dress that a housekeeper might wear.” She looked at him, and he began to realize she was very concerned about her god-daughter’s welfare.  “Even if there had been an entail, I know her parents would have provided for her in their will. And what’s more, Harry would have known about it as it would potentially have affected his own children in the future.”

He took a seat and looked at his mother thoughtfully. “Let’s assume you are right, and there is something untoward here. What do you want to do? I can tell there is something you have in mind.”

His mother stopped pacing around the room and came to sit opposite him. 

“You wrote a year ago that you were considering renting an estate nearer London to give you a base in the south.”

He nodded.

“I remember thinking it seemed an excellent idea, as you need to be in society and meeting new people, and like your dear father, you would never be happy living in the London townhouse.”

“I don’t like town. Never have. And yes, I am thinking about renting an estate. Everything is well managed here by you and our estate manager. If I’m honest, I’d like to do something different rather than return here to Bernicia immediately.”

“And you do need to meet, er, people Frederick.”

“You mean eligible young ladies, Mama,” he replied with humour in his voice.

“Well, it is high time that you settled and produced an heir for Bernicia. However, that isn’t what I am thinking about.”

“I’d say you were always thinking about that,” he said with a laugh. 

“Oh, very well, I’ll concede that point. No, I have been thinking about the possibility of you taking a property in Hertfordshire.”

“Ah, I think I’m starting to see your plan.”

“You could become part of local society, find Emmeline, and see if you can locate the original will,” she said in one breath before stopping and looking at him.  

“I think you might need to repeat that …” Frederick said in exasperation. “I am sure that we can make contact with Lady Emmeline, but I don’t see how I can search Manningley Manor and find the real will. If Viscount Welwyn has a grain of sense, then he will have burned it and any copies.”

“Oh, believe me, Lord Welwyn sounds like a total buffoon. I suspect the documents are most likely in a drawer in his study or on a table in the library. I doubt he would even have the sense to keep them under lock and key. Lady Gargrave says he sleeps most of the time.”

“Sleeps?”

“Sleeps and snores loudly, apparently.”

“It’s a long shot. Can’t we just stay in an inn, visit Manningley, and ask to see Emmeline?”

“And she would be watched during every minute of our visit. That’s providing we even get to see the girl. Now, are you, or are you not, planning on renting an estate in the south, within travelling distance of town?

“Well, yes …” Frederick hesitantly acknowledged.

“So, this is a perfect opportunity to investigate what has happened to my god-daughter,” said his mother. 

“Mother, there probably isn’t a suitable property anywhere near Manningley. This seems like a ridiculous plan.” 

“But there is a perfect property, Frederick,” she said.

Frederick sighed loudly. She really seemed serious about this. His mother continued, “If you look on that table over there, you will find details about a property that shares a boundary with Manningley Manor.”

He reached for the document and swiftly scanned the contents. 

“Will it do?” she asked him. 

“You know very well that it is exactly the type of house and estate I want. Bramfield House seems perfect for my needs,” Frederick replied with a note of frustrated exasperation in his voice at how he had been manipulated. 

“Good. You can write and instruct Mr Dawkins to take it for you on lease. Once you are settled, then we will join you within the month.” 

“Mother,” he cried with exasperation. “These things take time.”

“Oh, very well, within two months. It makes little difference. You know exactly what I mean,” his mother said. 

“And you plan to join me there?”

“I do indeed. I shall travel south to Hertfordshire with your sister Phoebe,” his mother told him. “I suspect Philip may choose to join us; that’s up to your brother, but you can certainly ask that rather handsome baronet who often comes to stay with us. I suspect your sister likes him, and it will give Phoebe a chance to get to know him.” 

“You mean Stuart?”

She nodded, “Sir Stuart Mulgrave, Baronet of Wark, with an estate just a day south of Bernicia.”

“Mother, I find it impossible to keep up with the number of schemes in your head,” said Frederick, exasperated. “I’m happy for Stuart to join us if he chooses to. The surprise is you are planning to travel south. You haven’t left Bernicia for ten years.”

She ignored his initial comment. “I feel this is my duty to my dear friend Caroline. I don’t enjoy London society, and I’m happy here, but if I’m honest, then I do regret not visiting Hertfordshire while she was alive.” She paused and stared out the window for a second or two, looking sad. “It will do me good to blow some cobwebs away, and I can set up house for you at Bramfield.”

And so, he reflected, his life had changed as a result of a short conversation. He saw the positives. He had planned on taking a house further south for an extended period, and he’d actually anticipated that his mother might not approve of this plan. As it turned out, she was encouraging it and had even found him the perfect property, saving him days of property hunting. And why not Hertfordshire?

“Very well. I’ll write to Mr Dawkins, asking him to act for me as solicitor, instructing him to take Bramfield House for twelve months,” agreed Frederick. “When I’m in town, I’ll call and see him about Manningley and talk with him about how Lady Emmeline seems to have been disinherited.” 

She nodded. “And imprisoned.” 

“Mother, we don’t know that.” 

“I may have exaggerated,” his mother acknowledged, “but there is something deeply unpleasant here. If the viscount and viscountess are not treating my goddaughter well, then she can come and stay here.” 

“I’m beginning to think you are right, and Emmeline is Harry’s younger sister. I owe it to him to check that all is well,” Frederick said. 

“The poor girl had the death of her parents, then news of Harry’s death in such a short space of time,” his mother said sadly. “There is something fraudulent about this whole business. We shall investigate, and the Ashburtons will uncover the truth.”

“I begin to feel as though we are living in the pages of a Mrs Radcliffe novel,” commented Frederick.

“She has always been my favourite author,” added his mama. “Perhaps I will take up writing when our investigations are completed.”