Authors: Stella White
Emily sighed with relief. ''I have just one more question,'' she said. ''You didn't know about my
father
's plight until I told you, is that correct?'' Edward nodded. ''Then in effect, you did this for me.''
''I suppose so. But don't tell your father,'' he said with a grin.
''I love you, Edward
Dirksen.
'' Emily said.
*****
THE END
A Rake’s Revenge – A Regency Romance
''Andrew, I am sick and tired of your lies,'' Oscar Hammond said as his son listened to him for the umpteenth time. ''Your mother and I have discussed your behavior, and we have come to the conclusion that the constant stream of women, who seem to enter and leave your life with alarming regularity, is having
a negative influence on
your children's behavior.'' One of Oscar’s beloved Springer Spaniels jumped up and tried to sit on Andrew's lap.
The two gentlemen were sitting in Oscar's study in Thorpe Hall, which had been in the Hammond family for seven hundred years since King John had bestowed it on
Angred
Hammond for slaughtering a group of men who had robbed his mail coach.
Oscar, at sixty-three, was a man of considerable wealth. He owned three thousand acres and had more than two thousand tenants in various villages scattered around the area. Tall and gray haired, he was a solemn man
totally
devoid of humor.
His son, Andrew, was twenty-nine and the proud father of three children. Agnes, John, and Sarah. Nine, six and four respectively.
Oscar and his wife had tried for many years to have
children,
and
when Andrew was born, they'd been thrilled that, at last, they had an heir to the family fortune. Femke Hammond, the third daughter of a Dutch aristocrat, had pleased her husband by having two more children, Maurice, and Jacqueline.
''Our family has a
reputation,
and you seem to be doing you best to destroy it,'' Oscar added.
I'm only trying to find a wife, you despicable man, Andrew thought. Georgina, his lovely wife, had died while giving birth to Sarah and her loss had
utterly
destroyed him. Left to bring up three young children he had been out of his depth. After two years,
he
'd decided to look for a new wife, but he'd found it impossible to find someone as beautiful and talented as Georgina. In his quest, he'd invited many women to his house, all of whom proved to be less than suitable. Unable to find a wife to match Georgina, the process had turned Andrew into something of a sexual predator, with little regard for women and their feelings. Now he'd abandoned all hope of finding a new bride and was playing the field unashamedly.
Andrew had no trouble in attracting women. Georgina had always worried that he was far too handsome and that
he would be seduced by some wanton woman
. He was tall and had dark brown hair. Women were attracted by his eyes, which were an unusual color of turquoise blue. They also loved his sense of humor and his gentle and relaxed nature.
''Father, I am looking for a wife, as I have told you on so many occasions. As I haven't found anyone suitable, my search will go on.'' Andrew sat back in the armchair and crossed his lean legs.
''If you carry on like this, I will disinherit you. You are a disgrace. How is the search for a new governess coming along?''
''I am interviewing candidates at the moment,'' Andrews replied.
''Indeed,'' Oscar said sarcastically. ''Is that what you call it. Well, you'd better find one and fast.''
Andrew got up and left the small study. As he walked down the corridor filled with paintings of his ancestors he bumped into a maid called Susan. As quick as a flash, he pulled her through the drawing room door and closed it behind him. ''Susan, when will you give yourself to me? I cannot wait to make love to you,'' he said taking her in his arms.
Susan liked Andrew and was perfectly willing to let him have his way with her. But she
was terrified
of Oscar and his wife finding out, and banishing her from the house with no reference. ''Mr. Andrew, you know I like you, give me some more time,'' she said as his hands wandered over her buttocks.
''Alright, but I want you very soon, don't forget.''
Andrew went on his way again down the long corridor and into the entrance hall where he put on his coat. It was April and still bitterly cold. The Hammonds had a tradition. The heir to the family fortune always lived in the Lodge. The Lodge was a smaller house than Thorpe Hall but nonetheless contained sixteen bedrooms. It
was located
at
the other side of the garden. Andrew took the flagstone path, which was slippery after a shower, and looked up at the Lodge house. It was painted white with a navy blue front
door,
and white
painted windows
. There were two stone lions on either side of the front
door,
and the door-knocker was a brass eagle.
''Daddy,'' Sarah shouted as she toddled across the black and white tiled floor to meet her father.
He lifted her up. ''And what have you been up to while I have been talking to grandfather?''
''Playing with Benji.''
Benji was the family Golden Retriever, and Sarah had learned that if you threw a ball, he would run after it and bring it back time after time.
''Don't go tiring him out Sarah. Benji doesn't know when he should stop.''
''Where is Mrs. Patterson?'' he asked his youngest daughter.
''She's in the kitchen with Agnes and John.''
Andrew went into the large family kitchen and saw Agnes and John sitting at the pine table rolling dough. Mrs.
Patterson,
the cook and housekeeper, was patiently watching over them. She was in her mid-forties and married to the gardener, a huge man who after years of bending to remove weeds from the
immaculate
flower beds had developed a terrible stoop.
She
was a superb cook and not one of the family complained about anything she put in front of them. She looked like a cook, she was rotund and wore her hair up in a large bun.
''Mrs. Patterson, would you please prepare the guest bedroom, I have a visitor from tomorrow.''
Mrs. Patterson nodded. How many was that this year?
she
asked herself.
*****
Julia glanced at her parents grave and wiped away a tear. It had been two years since the accident and Julia had been to see them every day since. Her father had told the coach driver that he thought one of the horses was lame, but he hadn't listened and in excruciating pain the
horse
had tried to free itself. The coach was off the road and into a deep gorge. There were no survivors. As she always did, she kissed her hand and put it top the stone before she began the walk back to her Aunt’s house.
Aunt Isabella lived in a cute little manor house in the village of
Tunberry
, West Sussex. It was a typical English village. It had a green with a maypole, two inns, and a fourteenth-century church. It was the kind of place where everybody knew each other. When Julia arrived back at her
aunt's,
she walked up the garden path and entered the house via the front door. There was a smell of fresh bread and tea. She took off her coat and bonnet and hung them up. She was about to go into the kitchen when she heard her aunt talking. When she heard the other
person,
she cringed. It was Mrs. Mallinson, the village gossip.
''She's such a beautiful girl, it's quite perplexing,'' Mrs. Mallinson said.
''Julia is indeed a real beauty, but she has no ambition, no drive or enthusiasm. All she seems to do is hang around in the graveyard and read books.''
''But she wasn't like that as a child,'' Mrs. Mallinson observed. ''She was quite a character. I remember scolding her for stealing apples from my garden.''
''No, as a child she was outgoing, almost boisterous. I'm sure it has something to do with the loss of her parents. A shock like that is bound to drive someone back into their shell.''
''But she's been in her shell for a long time now. What are you going to do with her?''
Aunt Isabella picked up her tea and took a sip while
she
thought. ''She's
very intelligent,
so I suppose she could become a governess.'
''That's a splendid idea.'' Mrs. Mallinson said as she bit into a piece of hot bread and butter.
Julia tiptoed up the stairs and into her bedroom. The room had a low ceiling and a small fireplace. She slept in a single bed next to a crammed bookcase. She lay on her bed and thought about what her aunt and Mrs. Mallinson had been
talking about
. They were right, before the death of her parents she'd been outgoing. But back then
she
'd been happy, and now her heart was
broken,
and she didn't feel like doing much at all. In fact, it was all she could do to get out of bed in the morning. Her parents had made her feel loved and provided a protected environment for her to grow
up in
. Now all she had was her aunt, and Julia knew that her aunt didn't much like her.
After an hour, she heard her aunt shouting her name. She rose from the bed and looked in the mirror to fix her blonde hair.
''Julia, have you given any thought to your future?'' her aunt asked when they were having dinner. They didn't have any
servants;
Aunt Isabella didn't have the
money,
and if she had had, no servant would have lasted very long in her employ. She was a know-all and never satisfied with anything.
''Not really,'' Julia said as she stared into space.
''I am going to send you to a place called Thorpe Hall in Surrey. Mr. Andrew Hammond lives there and has been looking for a governess
from
some time. You will educate his three children.''
''If you wish,'' she said without giving the idea a moment's thought.
*****
When Andrew collected Julia from the railway station, Julia was pleased to see how handsome he was. She'd had nightmares about working for a
very ugly
man who would pester her for sex, but now she could lay that fear to rest. Julia was tall, slender, and blonde and Andrew,
by
now an expert, found the curves of her breasts and hips very appealing. She's here to educate the children, he reminded himself, as he put her bags into the trap.
''Jump up,'' he said. She sat down next to
him,
and Andrew touched the pony with the long whip. The
black
animal set off at a leisurely pace and Julia was relieved. Since her parents death in a coach, she was very fearful of anything pulled by a horse.
''Normally I send one of the footmen to pick people up from the station, but I wanted some fresh air today,'' he said as they left the town of
Rotherford
and entered the countryside.
''I am most grateful to you for collecting me,'' she replied.
''Your aunt told me you are eighteen and that you are an orphan. How did that happen?''
''An accident sir,''
''Please call me Mr. Andrew. Sir makes me feel so old.
What kind of an accident?''
''My parents were traveling to London when their stagecoach left the road. They
were killed
.''
Andrew looked at her. He could see she was still
grieving;
he recognized the look on her face. For so long he had also worn the same expression. ''My wife died four years ago.''
''How
awful,
'' she said it as if she
really
meant it, unlike so many people Andrew knew. ''How did the children react?''
''John was just two, and my wife died
having
Sarah, so they were not affected, but Agnes was beside herself. She hasn't
really
been the same since.''
I know the feeling, Julia thought. Out of the town, Andrew gave the signal for the pony to increase the tempo. When it broke into a trot, Julia gasped and held onto Andrew's arm.
''Does speed scare you?'' Andrew said as the wind whistled past Julia's bonnet.
''Yes, Mr. Andrew it does. On account of the accident.''
''Of course, how careless of me,'' he slowed the horse down to a walk and felt Julia relax again.
“That's it there,'' he said after another twenty minutes. Julia looked across the field and saw two large houses, one
very large
indeed. ''The small one's ours. It's called the Lodge. The large house next to it is my father's house.''
Right in the middle of the countryside, I'm going to love it, Julia thought.
When Andrew turned between two giant sandstone pillars that formed part of the intricate gateway to the estate, Julia began to feel at home. She didn't know why, but the location gave her a feeling of serenity. The house had
been built
in the middle of the
estate,
and it was, therefore, a long way from the gate, and as they drove through the grounds, Julia looked across green fields full of sheep. It was a beautiful day without a cloud in the
sky,
and the place was looking its magnificent best.